Morning arrived slowly, bleeding pale gold through the treetops. Mist clung to roots and hollowed stones like a living veil reluctant to release the remnants of night. Dew weighed down the broad leaves overhead, and somewhere deeper in the forest something large shifted—unseen, but undeniably present.
Lirien was already awake.
She sat cross-legged atop a fallen trunk, her sword resting across her lap. In the dim light she resembled a statue carved from dusk—still and composed—save for her eyes, which moved constantly. They measured distance, traced the sway of branches, listened to the forest's breath.
"Did you even sleep, Lirien?" Eryndor's voice cut through the fragile quiet of dawn.
"No," she replied flatly, without looking at him.
"Right." He nodded with a dry smile. "Of course not."
Before he could continue, Garruk stirred with a low grumble. He pushed himself upright, rubbing sleep from his eyes before sniffing the damp air.
"Smells like wet roots and bad omens," he muttered. "Typical forest morning."
Eryndor let out a soft chuckle. "Good morning to you as well, old man."
Garruk waved a hand dismissively. "Morning." He paused, squinting toward the dim forest trail they had abandoned days earlier. "Right then. What's the plan? We cannot keep wandering like this."
His gaze sharpened. "Especially with an entire guild hunting us."
Eryndor's eyes drifted toward the lockbox resting beside his pack.
Or rather—toward the place where the relic should have been.
He inhaled slowly.
For a brief moment, he considered lying. Or bending the truth into something easier to swallow. But the thought felt hollow. They had come too far for half-truths.
In the end, he exhaled and chose honesty.
"So," he began lightly, wearing an innocent smile that immediately raised suspicion, "before we discuss the plan, I should probably tell you something."
Garruk squinted. Lirien's gaze sharpened.
"The relic is gone," Eryndor finished. "I think."
Silence followed.
Garruk stared at him. Lirien stared at him. Then the two exchanged a glance, silently confirming they had heard the same absurd statement.
"What," Garruk said slowly, "are you talking about, boy?"
"We took the relic from the guild two days ago," Garruk continued, his voice tightening. "I distinctly remember risking my life for it. Did I imagine that part?"
"We did take it," Eryndor replied calmly.
Lirien's eyes never left his face. "Did you eat it," she asked flatly, "or something?"
"Very funny, Lirien." Eryndor laughed, then paused, his brow furrowing. "Wait. Did I?" he muttered to himself.
He shook his head quickly. "No. No, definitely not."
Garruk groaned. "If this is a joke—"
"It is not," Eryndor said. "I checked the lockbox last night. The relic was still there. This morning, it was gone."
"That is somehow worse," Garruk muttered.
Eryndor lifted his hands slightly in surrender. "First of all, I am sorry. I did not mean to lose it."
"You did not mean to lose it?" Garruk repeated incredulously.
"But I cannot explain it properly," Eryndor continued, ignoring the tone.
"You rarely explain anything properly," Garruk snorted.
Lirien finally spoke, her voice calm but edged. "You are leaving something out."
She stepped closer. "This has something to do with you. With your… condition."
Eryndor winced theatrically. "That is a hurtful way to phrase it."
"But not inaccurate," she replied.
He sighed. "Fair."
"I am fairly certain you have both noticed by now," he continued. "My condition."
Lirien nodded once. "It is obvious."
Garruk grunted. "Painfully so."
"So," Eryndor said, "in short—I'm not sure myself, but there's something inside me. Something old and strange." He hesitated.
"And whatever it is… it reacted to the relic." He gave a faint bitter smile.
"And whatever is inside you," Garruk said bluntly, "ate it."
"Possibly?" Eryndor shrugged. "I genuinely do not know."
Lirien studied him with clinical focus. "You are saying the relic did not simply disappear. It responded to you."
"Yes," Eryndor said. "Or I responded to it. Or both. Hard to tell."
Garruk scratched his beard. "That is deeply unsettling."
"I agree," Eryndor replied. "I am unsettled as well."
Silence fell again, heavier than before.
After a while, Lirien asked the only question that mattered. "What now?"
Eryndor straightened slightly. "For me, I need answers."
"How?" Garruk pressed.
"I know people who might be able to help me," Eryndor replied. "They understand many things. Including things that have been left buried since forever ."
Lirien's eyes narrowed. "Where?"
"My homeland," he said. "Matrabhumi Ayoga. More precisely—the capital. Mataram Prana."
Garruk frowned. "That will not be easy. The Guild and Varric's eyes most likely still crawling around The Dhaurim City."
"Which is why we won't go through Dhaurim City," Eryndor said.
"Garruk blinked. "Then how?"
"The southern routes to Matrabhumi all pass through Dhaurim," Garruk continued, counting them off. "Whether toward Nandavara or Aurash, the city sits in the way."
"We will take the long path," Eryndor replied.
Garruk knitted his brows.
"You said the long way. You don't mean through Karshvar do you?" Lirien lifted her gaze.
Eryndor nodded. "Yes, that is the one."
"By passing through Karshvar," Eryndor explained, "we can reach Mataram Prana through Nandavara, Kael Durn, or even the Tiraveda region. It gives us options. Many choices, with different favour"
"Options," Garruk muttered darkly. "All terrible."
Lirien's voice grew quieter. "Karshvar isn't a place you just walk into. People said It's alive. Literally. Its jungles shift. Rivers change course without warning. Entire plains breathe."
She met his eyes. "It is not a place that welcomes outsiders."
Eryndor smiled faintly. "That sounds like my kind of road."
She studied him for a long moment. "You are certain."
"No," he admitted honestly. "But it's the path that doesn't end with facing Varric and his guild."
Lirien sheathed her sword and stood. "If you are going to Matrabhumi," she said quietly, "then I am coming with you."
Eryndor blinked. "You do not have to."
"I know," she replied. "That is why I am."
"That is a strange answer."
Garruk sighed heavily and hoisted his hammer onto his shoulder. "Hells. I was a blacksmith two weeks ago." he muttered.
"Now I'm apparently following a walking mystery who eats relics,"
Garruk grumbled. "It is embarassing. But I do not have anywhere else to go."
Eryndor's smile softened slightly. "Then it is settled."
He clapped a hand onto Garruk's shoulder. "We are heading toward a land where trees might try to digest us and rivers might drown us for breathing too loudly."
He flashed a crooked grin. "A charming vacation destination, do you not think?"
Lirien rolled her eyes. Garruk gave a dry, reluctant laugh.
Despite everything, Eryndor found himself smiling.
The relic was gone.
The path ahead was uncertain, with someone was hunting them.
Yet something inside him burned steadier than fear.
He turned toward the dense forest stretching eastward—the road that would eventually lead to Karshvar, to Matrabhumi Ayoga, to Mataram Prana, and perhaps to answers older than memory.
"Let us try not to be eaten on the first day," he said lightly.
"No promises," Garruk replied.
Lirien adjusted the strap of her scabbard. "Stay alert," she said simply.
Eryndor inhaled once, feeling the faint echo of the relic somewhere beyond sight, beyond touch, yet undeniably present.
"Let's move," he said.
And together, they stepped into the green unknown.