I cast a final, lingering glance back at the distant, hellish glow of Ansmery. The fire rages, painting the horizon a malevolent orange that seems to set the very sky aflame, its light flickering across the rippling surface of the water. Acrid smoke curls upwards, clawing at the stars and drowning out the moon. The cool night air of the grasslands bites at my skin, a sharp and almost painful contrast to the blistering inferno I left behind. My clothes cling to me, soaked and heavy as I drag myself from the riverbank. Arael, breathing heavily, stumbles beside me—her hair plastered to her face, eyes wild and fierce with adrenaline and anger. We stagger out of the water, our bodies trembling with exhaustion and shock, making our way onto the dew-soaked land, the taste of smoke and ash still thick on our tongues.
I squeeze water from my sleeve, grimacing at the grime streaked across my hands. "Well, I guess we're going to need to get clean at the next city," I mutter, glancing sideways at Arael. "I don't believe they'll let us back into this one, nor do we want to risk that."
Arael lets out a sharp, incredulous laugh as she wrings out her hair. "What in the actual fuck, Leo?" She steps closer, her face a storm of confusion and frustration, shoulders squared. "We're meant to be partners, yet you planned to burn down a city while I scoped out a mansion. YOU, were never even planning on robbing."
I hold up my hands, backing away a step as she advances. The grass squishes beneath my boots. "Look, I had to be sure of your resolve. Can't exactly just believe someone based on their word. I need to see whether or not you'd stand by me when the time comes." I flash her a sly smirk, trying to lighten the mood. "The moment came by my own doing, of course."
She narrows her eyes, arms crossed tight. "Partners, Leo. I am not your lap dog you can boss around." Her voice is low, dangerous.
I kick at a clump of grass, shrugging. "Now I know how far you're willing to go. Partners?" My attempt at reassurance comes out more brittle than intended.
Arael scoffs, scanning the moonlit grassland, then turns her back and starts trudging away, toward a main path. "I'm done with this conversation for now. I don't like sitting around like a lost mutt." She pauses, glancing over her shoulder—her voice softer but edged. "Any idea where to go next?"
The scroll, an ever-vibrating presence, pulls me north, a thread, a small connection, conduit to conduit, it tells me where to go next. "North," I say, "anything close by here that you would know of north from here?"
"One place I know where we can lay somewhat low, just a small farming and mining town closer to the base of the mountains. They don't have much there, just the land of wheat and a main church."
"Perfect! And a church will be good. You look as if you need a healer; you took a pretty hard hit."
"healer? Can you not heal me?"
"Heavens no, healing magic is kept secret by the church, it's a specific profession. The church is a cult that always wants more power. So in school, I never learnt such things. Only methods to kill." And I glance at her ribs where she had been hit. "Do you think you can make it until then?"
"This is nothing." Her lips curl in a defiant, weary smile, but her hand hovers protectively over her abdomen.
We walked in silence following the dirt pathway, our soaked clothes growing colder against our skin as the night deepened. At first, every breath still tasted faintly of smoke and ash, but as we moved farther from Ansmery, the air sharpened and cleared. The orange glow on the horizon faded until it was nothing but a bruise against the sky.
We didn't speak much. Arael kept a few paces ahead, glancing back every so often, her silhouette carved sharp against the silver light. I wondered if she was counting our footsteps, or if she, too, had lost sense of time out here.
My breath puffed out in quick, uneven bursts—half from exhaustion, half from nerves. The night air felt colder the farther we got from Ansmery, or maybe it was just the adrenaline wearing off. Arael stomped ahead, muttering curses under her breath that I pretended not to hear, though a few creative ones made me smirk.
The orange glow of the city was shrinking behind us, pulsing like a dying ember. "Think they'll sing songs about us?" I called, trying to lighten the mood. My voice sounded thin in all that empty space. I grinned, ignoring the ache in my calves. "Hey, we got out alive. That's worth something."
"Barely," she said. She slowed until we walked side by side, our boots swishing in the knee-high grass. Every now and then, she'd kick at a clump, sending a spray of dew into the moonlight.
It felt like we'd been walking for hours. My stomach growled, loud enough for Arael to hear. She snorted. "If you pass out, I'm not carrying you."
"Wasn't asking," I lied, and we both laughed, the sound strange and raw after so much silence.
Flopping down onto the damp ground just off the path. The grass felt almost luxurious after everything—the kind of bed you dream about when you're running for your life.
She hesitated, then sat beside me, knees drawn to her chest. For a moment, neither of us said anything. The world felt wide open and strangely hopeful, like maybe we'd actually made it out.
Arael hugged her knees, eyes scanning the horizon. "So, what's your grand plan now, Leo? Or were you just hoping the universe would hand us a miracle?"
I plucked a blade of grass and twirled it between my fingers, pretending to ponder. "Well, step one: don't die tonight. Step two… honestly, I've never made it this far in the plan before."
She shook her head, lips pressed in a hard line. "You never tell me the whole plan. Or maybe there isn't one. Maybe you just like the chaos."
We collapsed into the grass. For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The silence was filled only by the rush of blood in my ears and the restless whisper of the wind through the blades around us. My pulse hammered, but at last, the panic began to ebb, replaced by a raw, exhausted relief.
Like a sharp blade through the silence. "You're mad Leo. Killed maybe hundreds in that fire."
"And what did they ever do for you? It's like you said—you could watch the city burn."
"And the city did burn. Countless innocents dead. But I'm still here, walking with you."
"What was the other option, Arael? I'll tell you there was none, not a quick one at least. Look, this world is broken. You know it just as much as I do. We can't save the world, we can't be heroes for a system that moulds soldiers, that pushes those down." With a heavy breath. "You know that lord you went to scout, he wouldn't dare give a second glance your way if you were begging and dying on the street for everyone to see."
Arael jabs a finger to my side, her brow furrowing. "This is true, but what do you plan to do about it then, huh?"
"If you can't save the world, then you can rule it."
Arael snorts and rakes her fingers through her tangled hair. "Oh, so you plan to rule it then?"
I shake my head, snapping a twig between my fingers. "No, heavens no. I could never, I don't have the patience for such things—hell, I burned down a city for some coin. But you? I'd destroy the world for you to rule it."
"And what's there to rule, if there is nothing, Leo?"
"ashes, to refertilize life. A framework to build upon, again, Arael, I want to give you the opportunity just as I promised."
She leans closer, her gaze fierce. "So be it. But let me say it again—I am not a follower, not some devoted priestess waiting for her god to gift her the world's riches. I am your partner. When you kill, I kill. If blood stains your hands, it stains mine too. But if we keep burning cities, we'll draw more than city guards. The royal guard will come for us. So let's not burn the next one we visit."
I offer a lopsided salute, a smirk tugging at my lips. "Whatever you say, partner. The next one stays just the way we find it."
We lock eyes. For a heartbeat, neither of us looks away, then I nudge her with my shoulder, and she bumps me back, laughter finally breaking the tension.
I stand from the short pause and stretch my arms overhead, joints popping, and squint down the road. "How many more days before we reach this city?"
Arael studies the dusty horizon. "Following this path may take several days."
"Should we be following this path? Won't any of the city guards be coming down all the paths?"
She shakes her head, watching a small group of refugees trudge past. "No, I doubt it. Most of the city folk will be on the roads too—no homes to go back to. We'll just disappear in the crowd."
A day passed, and the steady rhythm of our footsteps on the dirt path the only sound for hours. The stars, as always, are high and bright, the moon casting long, stretched shadows. Ansmery is now just a distant memory—a malevolent orange eye that winked out over the horizon long ago.
We press on, day after day, the landscape blurring into endless fields and winding roads beneath aching feet and sunburned skin. Nights are spent beneath the open sky, trading stories and silent worries.
On the final night before reaching the farmer's town, we settle beneath a crooked tree by the roadside. Our coin pouches are still heavy, but we look like paupers—no tent, no food. I lie on the grass, eyes drifting shut, but Arael is relentless. She slips off into the darkness, broken dagger in hand, hunting for food. I catch glimpses of her, hunched and determined, coughing into her sleeve with every other step, a dark stain sometimes blooming on the fabric. Her bruise is deepening, but she refuses to rest—says she finds 'solace in the hunt,' whatever that means.
Later, restless, I wander away from our makeshift camp. Out in the vast, star-dusted plain, I extend my skeletal hand, the bone gleaming faintly in the moonlight. My heart thuds with desperate yearning as I call out to the void.
A cold, tingling sensation creeps through my skeletal fingers, crawling up my arm like icy mist. The usual crushing resistance of the void is gone. Instead, the void answers—a silent, all-encompassing hum that vibrates in the core of my soul. For a fleeting moment, the universe cracks open, and I glimpse it again—not the chaos of before, but a tapestry of nascent stars and dying galaxies, all interconnected by threads of raw magic. My skeletal hand throbs, like muscles being torn and rebuilt by ancient power. It tries to flow through me, make me a conduit, but remains just beyond my grasp—planting only a seed. The connection snaps as quickly as it comes, leaving me breathless and chilled to the bone. The stars now seem closer, more knowing.
By morning, the sun is a thin gold coin, painting the eastern sky in soft pastels. The lingering scent of Ansmery's woodsmoke is just a ghost on the wind, but I shake it off and fix my eyes north. With each step, the ache in my legs grows, but the rhythm keeps me moving.
I sidle up beside Arael and nudge her with my elbow. "Do you dream of me, Arael?" I quip, a sly grin tugging at my lips. "No need to be shy. The night is cold, and I have a very warm body to press against."
Arael snorts, rolling her eyes before giving me a quick once-over. "As if, pretty boy. And frankly, the idea of getting cozy with a walking corpse—" she flicks her gaze to my bone hand "—isn't high on my list of nocturnal pleasures." She smacks my shoulder, a little harder than necessary, but her lips twitch with a half-smile. "Keep dreaming, Leo. Desperation suits you."
Arael tosses a pebble ahead of us and arches an eyebrow. "Tell me why north, exactly, Leo?"
I pat the scroll at my hip, its presence buzzing under my fingertips. "The scroll pulls me that way. I don't know where it's taking me—maybe to another conduit, maybe to my death."
Arael steps in front of me, blocking my path. "So… we're blindly following this ancient scroll of yours?"
I flash a grin. "Precisely."
She folds her arms, frowning. "So it could be leading us straight to doom. What if someone else has the other scroll? What if they unlocked its power and don't want to share?"
"We kill them. Simple thing, really."
Arael grins, shoving me lightly. "Feisty little guy, aren't you?" She opens her palm. "Hand over the scroll. I want to see it."
I hand over the scroll and watch as she unrolls it under the sun's weak light. Her brow furrows when she finds nothing written there.
She squints at the parchment, then looks up. "There's nothing here when I look at it. You showed me something before—how'd you do it?"
"Simple. I just gave you a little of my arcane energy. I assume that's how healing magics work too, though I'm not sure. I think it's about connecting two souls—my arcane soul to your... well, whatever you have left."
Arael tilts her head, curiosity sparking in her eyes. "So if you connected us, could you show me 'the void'—for real?"
I rub the back of my neck, thoughtful. "This again. I'm not sure. My soul connects—or maybe just sees—the void. It's like being transported, or like everything peels away and you see what's really there. That's my theory. Maybe if we were linked, I could drag your soul along with mine."
Arael lowers her voice, glancing around warily. "Just remember: that kind of power attracts attention. Maybe someone's already hunting us."
At last—after what feels like an eternity—the rooftops and steeple of Goldenleaf shimmer into view on the horizon, bathed in the golden light of evening.