The sun was still low enough in the sky to cast long shadows across the forest path as the wagon slowly rolled onward. The two horses snorted quietly, pulling the heavy load with steady steps over the damp earth. The creaking of the wheels had almost become comforting. Samuel had listened to that sound for hours. Now he knew it would soon fall silent.
Walking beside the wagon was Gustov, his arms crossed over his chest. His gaze moved attentively through the forest, as if he could sense every movement between the trees. Vorzak sat once again on the driver's bench, humming a melody to himself whose words Samuel could not understand.
Samuel walked silently beside the wagon. The knife hung from his belt. Every so often, his fingers brushed over the handle. The leather felt rough, already slightly worn, and yet the simple act of touching it gave him a strange sense of security.
He did not know how long they had already been travelling. Time seemed to move more slowly in the forest. Sunlight broke through the dense canopy only in narrow beams, dancing across the ground whenever the wind stirred the treetops.
No one said anything.
And yet the silence did not feel uncomfortable.
Samuel noticed that his gaze kept drifting toward Gustov. The old Orc seemed as calm as ever. Nothing appeared capable of shaking him. Even now, moments before their separation, his face carried the same quiet composure it had shown on every other day.
Why does this come so easily to him?
Samuel knew it did not come easily.
The closer they came to the edge of the forest, the heavier every single step became.
After a while, Gustov slowed his pace.
"This is where our paths separate."
Samuel stopped.
The wagon stopped as well.
For a brief moment, even the forest itself seemed to grow quiet.
Vorzak jumped down from the driver's bench and stretched.
"Further north, the road becomes too dangerous for us. Our journey takes us west."
Samuel slowly nodded.
He had known this moment would come.
And yet a small part of him had hoped they would simply keep walking together.
Maybe for another day.
Or two.
Or until Aeterweite.
Gustov stepped closer.
"You know where you need to go."
"Yes."
"And you know why."
Samuel nodded again.
"Yes."
The old Orc placed a heavy hand on his shoulder.
"Then do not doubt every step you take along the way."
Samuel looked down.
Easier said than done.
Vorzak grinned.
"I am certain we will see each other again."
"How can you know that?"
"Because stories rarely end where people expect them to."
Samuel could not help but smile.
"You and your stories."
"They have been right surprisingly often."
For a moment, all three of them laughed.
A genuine, quiet laugh.
Then it faded.
Samuel swallowed.
"Thank you."
Nothing more came out.
Not for the food.
Not for the protection.
Not for the stories.
Not for everything they had done for him.
One word had to be enough.
Gustov simply nodded.
"Take care of yourself."
"I will try."
"Do not try."
The old Orc looked him firmly in the eyes.
"Do it."
Samuel met his gaze.
"I will take care of myself."
"Good."
Vorzak climbed back onto the wagon.
"And if you ever want to hear more stories…"
He raised a finger with a grin.
"...then find me. I still know at least a hundred."
Samuel let out a quiet snort.
"I believe that immediately."
The horses slowly began moving again.
The creaking of the wheels returned.
Samuel remained standing.
He watched as the wagon grew smaller and smaller.
Gustov did not turn around again.
Vorzak, however, raised a hand one final time.
Samuel returned the gesture.
Then they disappeared between the trees.
And suddenly, it was quiet.
Not the pleasant silence of the forest.
But the kind of silence that remains after people have left.
Samuel stood motionless for several moments.
The forest immediately felt larger.
Emptier.
Come on.
Keep moving.
He forced his legs to move.
Step by step, he left the forest path behind and followed the direction Gustov had shown him.
After some time, the trees began to thin.
Bright sunlight appeared more frequently between the trunks.
The scent of damp earth slowly faded, replaced by dry grass.
Just a few more steps.
Then Samuel left the forest.
Before him stretched the endless plain once again.
A sea of gently swaying grass reached all the way to the horizon. The wind moved through the fields like waves across the land. White flowers swayed between the blades while countless insects hummed from bloom to bloom.
Above him stretched a vast blue sky.
No trees.
No houses.
No roads.
Only endless open space.
Samuel stopped.
He immediately remembered the day he had seen this plain for the first time.
Back then, everything had been unfamiliar.
Now even this strange world felt a little more familiar.
And that thought hurt.
He thought of his village. The small wooden houses. The fires burning between the huts in the evening. The children laughing as they played between the buildings. The voices. The laughter. Vorzak's stories.
Everything was over.
Not destroyed.
But far away.
Maybe he would never see them again.
A gust of wind moved through the grass, and Samuel closed his eyes for a moment.
And yet...
This is not my home.
His thoughts drifted back to Earth. To his room. To the poster above his bed. To the desk where notebooks and papers had always been scattered. To the smell of rain when he opened his window in the morning.
He thought of his mother.
His father.
Even the things that had annoyed him before.
Homework.
The walk to school.
The old neighbours.
The noise of the city.
He never would have imagined that even such small things could one day become something he missed.
His throat tightened.
I want to go home...
Not north.
Not to Aeterweite.
Not to some unfamiliar city.
Home.
Back to where his life had begun.
But he did not even know whether his parents missed him. Or whether any time had passed on Earth at all.
Maybe only seconds had passed there.
Maybe years.
Maybe his home no longer existed.
The thought sent a chill through him.
He lowered his gaze.
The grass moved steadily in the wind. Everything looked peaceful.
Almost too peaceful.
Then suddenly he remembered Gustov's voice.
"You cannot carry everything with you."
Samuel slowly exhaled.
Back then, Gustov had remained silent for a long time before continuing.
"Some things will never disappear. But if you only look behind you, eventually you will miss the path ahead."
Samuel closed his eyes for a moment.
Letting go...
That does not mean forgetting.
He remembered how Gustov had never avoided speaking the names of those who had died.
He spoke of them.
Laughed about old memories.
Mourned them.
And still kept moving forward.
Only now did Samuel begin to understand what the old Orc had meant.
Letting go did not mean abandoning someone.
It meant continuing onward, even when the memories remained.
He opened his eyes.
The north lay before him.
Unknown.
Perhaps dangerous.
But that was exactly where he had to go.
Samuel tightened the straps of his backpack and continued walking.
Every step carried him farther away from everything that had become familiar.
And brought him closer to a future he still could not imagine.
Samuel kept walking.
The sun slowly moved across the sky, causing Samuel's shadow to grow shorter with every passing hour. The wind swept endlessly through the vast fields of grass, carrying the sweet scent of countless wildflowers across the plain. In the distance, individual birds rose into the air, drawing wide circles above the land before eventually disappearing beyond the horizon.
It was beautiful.
And yet, with every step, Samuel felt more alone.
It was a beauty that did not comfort him. Instead, it reminded him of how small he was.
Alone.
A single human in a world far older than anything he had ever known.
He cast a brief glance over his shoulder.
The forest was now far behind him. Only a dark line remained along the horizon.
There is no going back now.
He did not know why that thought affected him so much. After all, he had never planned to turn around.
Maybe because the forest had been the last place that had, for a short time, felt like home.
He thought of the first evening beside the campfire.
Of Vorzak's stories.
Of Gustov silently staring into the flames.
Of the smell of roasted meat.
Of the quiet crackling of branches.
He had felt safe.
Not completely.
But enough to sleep at night.
Now that feeling was gone.
Samuel pulled the collar of his shirt slightly higher, even though the wind was pleasantly warm.
His thoughts wandered back again.
To Earth.
He wondered what his parents were doing right now.
Whether his mother was once again drinking too much coffee while she worked.
Whether his father still woke up early on weekends even though he could have slept longer.
Maybe the glass of water he had never put away was still sitting on his desk.
Maybe they were waiting for him.
Maybe they were searching for him.
Or maybe...
Samuel shook his head.
No.
I cannot think about that now.
He felt his chest growing heavier. It was the same heaviness that often overwhelmed him at night — the feeling that something was missing. Something he could neither grasp nor explain. A hole that simply existed.
He stopped for a moment and took a deep breath. The air was fresh. It smelled of grass, damp earth, and the flowers growing everywhere between the blades.
He closed his eyes.
Then he remembered Gustov.
The old Orc had rarely spoken about his past. And yet Samuel had always sensed that Gustov had lost people too. Not only people — friends, family, his home.
And still, he had never seemed bitter.
Samuel remembered a sentence Gustov had once spoken almost casually:
"If you carry a stone with you the entire way, it will not become lighter. You will only become more tired."
Back then, Samuel had not understood what he meant.
Now he understood at least a little better.
He could not simply throw away his past.
And he did not want to.
He did not want to forget his friends. Not Garok. Not the children. Not the people from his old life.
But perhaps he had to stop carrying the pain like a heavy backpack on his shoulders.
He was allowed to remember.
He was allowed to grieve.
But he did not have to be broken by it forever.
Samuel slowly raised his gaze.
Ahead of him, the enormous mountain range rose once again.
It was just as overwhelming as it had been on the first day.
Grey cliffs reached kilometers into the sky, their peaks disappearing among white clouds. The stone wall stretched endlessly from east to west. It looked less like a mountain range and more like a barrier separating two worlds.
Samuel stopped.
Every time he saw it, the same feeling overcame him.
Awe.
And at the same time, unease.
Who built something like this?
Of course, he knew no one had built these mountains.
And yet they seemed unnatural.
Too straight.
Too enormous.
Almost as if someone had torn open the earth itself.
He continued northward.
As the sun slowly sank lower, the landscape began to change.
The meadows became rougher.
At first, there were only small hills.
Then larger rises.
The ground became rockier.
Grass grew only in scattered patches between grey stones.
Samuel had to pay closer attention to where he stepped.
After several more hours, he finally noticed something strange.
Farther north, the ground seemed almost as if it had been torn apart.
Not individual hills.
Not ordinary mountains.
It looked...
...as if a giant with unimaginable strength had struck the earth.
Sharp-edged rocks rose everywhere from the ground. Some stood at strange angles, while others looked as though they had only recently been forced upward from beneath the surface. Deep cracks split the landscape, while enormous slabs of stone lay scattered and piled upon one another.
Nothing about it seemed natural.
Samuel stopped again.
Slowly, he let his eyes wander across the area.
The farther north he looked, the more chaotic the landscape became.
Almost as if something had once happened there that had changed the world itself.
A shiver ran down his spine.
Even though the sun was still shining, this part of the land felt colder.
Quieter.
The wind whistled between the rocks, creating a deep howl that rolled across the plain.
Samuel could barely tear his eyes away.
"What happened here...?"
Of course, he knew no one could answer that question.
Not today.
Maybe never.
Slowly, he continued walking.
As evening approached, the shadows of the rocks grew longer.
The golden rays of the setting sun painted the stone in warm colours. Between the cracks, small flowers glowed, their vivid violet petals creating a striking contrast against the grey rock.
For a moment, the landscape almost seemed peaceful.
Beautiful, even.
Nature did not seem to care what scars the earth carried.
It allowed flowers to grow.
Grass to sprout.
And the wind moved over everything with the same calmness as it did across any other meadow.
Samuel smiled faintly.
Maybe that was exactly why he still liked this world despite everything.
Even in its wounded places, it could still create beauty.
Slowly, the sun began to disappear behind the mountains.
The sky turned orange.
Then red.
Finally, violet.
Samuel knew he needed to find somewhere to spend the night.
He looked around.
Between the broken rocks was a small depression that offered some protection from the constant wind. A few low bushes clung to the rocky soil, and several dead branches lay scattered between the stones.
"This should do..."
His own voice sounded strangely unfamiliar.
He had spoken barely more than a few words all day. Now that no one was beside him, even speaking felt strange.
Samuel removed his backpack and stretched. Immediately, he felt the exhaustion in his arms. He had carried its weight all day without truly noticing.
He knelt beside one of the bushes and gathered the dry branches.
Some broke apart as soon as he lifted them.
Others were thicker.
He pulled out the knife Gustov had given him.
For a brief moment, the blade reflected the warm light of the setting sun.
Samuel carefully ran his thumb along the wooden handle.
Without meaning to, he smiled.
"Thank you..."
He did not know whether he meant the knife or Gustov.
Perhaps both.
He placed the blade against a thicker branch and began cutting it apart piece by piece. The wood cracked beneath the pressure. Small splinters flew aside as a pile of fine shavings slowly formed.
He worked patiently.
Not particularly skillfully.
But better than he had only a few weeks before.
Back then, he probably would have needed twice as long just to avoid cutting his own finger.
Now he held the knife more steadily.
Not perfectly.
But safely.
When he finally had enough wood, he carefully stacked it together.
Using the flint, he first lit the smaller shavings.
A few sparks.
Then a thin trail of smoke.
Finally, a small flame slowly spread through the dry wood.
Samuel held his hands in front of it.
The warmth immediately spread pleasantly across his skin.
It drove away the chill that had settled over the land with the coming night.
He sat down on a flat stone and stared silently into the fire.
The flames danced.
Just like they had in the village.
For a moment, it almost felt as if Vorzak was sitting across from him again.
With his mischievous smile.
And Gustov beside him.
Silent.
Samuel could almost hear them.
The crackling of the wood.
Vorzak's voice.
The quiet laughter of the other Orcs.
He closed his eyes briefly.
I miss you.
The thought came so suddenly that he barely noticed it.
It was honest.
Simple.
And painful.
Samuel had never imagined that he would one day miss a village he had only known for a few weeks.
And yet that was exactly what had happened.
That village had been the first place where, after everything that had happened, he had felt welcome again.
No one had demanded anything from him.
No one expected him to be strong.
They had simply accepted him.
As if it were the most natural thing in the world.
The wind grew slightly stronger.
It made the flames flicker and carried small sparks into the darkening sky.
Samuel looked upward.
The first stars had already appeared.
They were brighter than the ones on Earth.
Countless small points of light spread across the sky long before the sun had completely disappeared.
He wondered if the same stars were shining above his home.
If his parents were looking up at them too.
If they were even still alive...
Samuel frowned.
No.
Not again.
He did not want to fall into those thoughts again.
He picked up a small stone and tossed it absentmindedly into the fire.
The embers briefly sparked.
Gustov was right.
You could not cling to memories until they crushed you.
But letting go...
That was difficult.
Perhaps the most difficult thing of all.
The sun finally vanished completely behind the enormous mountains.
Suddenly, the world seemed to lose its warmth.
The shadows grew deeper.
The orange of the sky slowly faded into dark blue.
Samuel remained sitting for several more minutes.
Then he remembered something else Gustov had taught him.
"A fire only warms you as long as it remains your friend."
At night, it could just as easily become an enemy.
Even from a great distance, any traveller — or anything else — would be able to see the flames.
Samuel stood.
He picked up a flat stone and slowly pushed earth over the glowing embers.
The fire hissed softly.
Thin trails of smoke rose one final time.
Then only a faint glow remained.
He waited.
Only when even that disappeared did he nod with satisfaction.
Darkness swallowed the small campsite almost immediately.
Only the pale light of the stars remained.
Samuel unfolded his blanket and lay down on his back.
The stone beneath him was hard.
Colder than the forest floor.
But after such a long journey, he hardly cared.
He folded his hands behind his head.
Above him stretched the sky like an endless black ocean.
He had never seen so many stars.
Some shimmered blue.
Others carried a faint golden glow.
Between them stretched a milky band across the sky, as if someone had scattered silver dust over the darkness.
Samuel could not stop looking.
The longer he stared, the smaller he felt.
Almost as if the sky itself might swallow him.
The wind whistled softly between the shattered rocks.
Nothing else could be heard.
No crickets.
No birds.
Not even the rustling of leaves.
Only the wind.
And his own breathing.
Samuel closed his eyes.
But the moment he did, images returned.
Fire.
Screams.
The smell of smoke.
He opened them again immediately.
"Not now..."
His heart began beating slightly faster.
He turned his head to the side.
Tried to think of something else.
Of Gustov's stories.
Of Vorzak's exaggerated gestures.
Of the bread that had always been half-burned.
A small smile crossed his face.
It helped.
At least for a moment.
But sleep still refused to come.
The minutes passed.
Perhaps hours.
Samuel did not know.
He simply continued staring upward.
Until his eyes slowly grew heavy.
His thoughts began to blur together.
The sound of the wind seemed to grow farther away.
As if there were water between him and the world.
And then he heard a voice.
Quiet.
Gentle.
Female.
It was barely more than a whisper. Samuel's eyes opened immediately, and he pushed himself halfway upright. His gaze searched across the dark rocks.
No one.
Only the stars.
The wind.
And yet he had heard it.
He was certain.
His heart began beating faster.
Where do I know that voice from...?
Samuel held his breath.
The voice did not disappear completely. It was neither loud nor demanding. It existed somewhere between the howl of the wind and his own thoughts — so faint that he could not tell whether he was truly hearing it or whether his exhausted mind had created it.
Slowly, he sat up fully. The blanket slipped from his shoulders, and the cold wind made him shiver.
"Is someone there?"
His voice vanished almost instantly into the endless night.
No answer came.
Only the whistle of the wind between the broken rocks.
Samuel listened carefully, but nothing moved.
Just as he was about to lie back down, the presence returned.
This time, it was clearer.
Not the voice itself — something else.
It felt as though someone was suddenly standing directly behind him.
He spun around.
But there was only darkness, stone, and shadows.
Nothing more.
And yet the feeling remained.
He was not alone.
Instinctively, his fingers closed around the handle of the knife at his belt.
The cool leather felt reassuring.
But he did not draw the blade.
Something told him that a knife would be useless here.
What... is this?
The presence felt neither threatening nor kind.
It simply existed — as naturally as the wind, as naturally as the stars.
Samuel felt the fine hairs on his arms rise.
The air seemed heavier.
Even the moonlight appeared dimmer.
He swallowed.
I know this voice...
The longer he thought about it, the more certain he became.
He had heard it before.
Not here.
Not in the village.
Not in the forest.
But where?
He squeezed his eyes shut.
Blurred memories appeared before him.
Fire.
Screams.
The sky.
A light.
Then darkness again.
But before he could grasp the images, they shattered once more.
"Who are you...?"
This time, he whispered, as if afraid of disturbing the silence.
Again, no answer came.
Instead, the presence spread further.
It was not behind him or in front of him.
It seemed to exist everywhere at once.
Samuel felt it in the air.
In the ground.
In the wind.
Almost even in his own heartbeat.
His exhaustion vanished instantly.
He listened carefully.
Then he heard the voice again.
Not with his ears.
It appeared directly inside his mind.
Gentle.
Calm.
And filled with a strange sadness.
It did not speak sentences.
It did not tell a story.
It did not offer a warning.
There were only fragments of sound, barely understandable, like the distant memory of a language he had never learned.
Samuel did not understand a single word.
And yet somehow, he felt their meaning.
A deep pull spread through his chest.
It did not hurt.
It felt familiar.
As if someone was looking at him — someone he had missed for a very long time, someone whose face he had long forgotten.
Suddenly, tears filled his eyes.
He did not know why.
He was neither sad nor happy.
He simply felt something.
Something that could not be explained with words.
The stars above him began to blur slightly.
The wind did not fade away slowly.
It stopped all at once.
An unnatural silence settled over the plain.
Samuel could not even hear his own breathing.
The world seemed to hold its breath.
Then the voice spoke.
This time, clearly.
Softly.
And yet with an authority that nothing inside him could resist.
"Your heart..."
A short pause.
"...it should burn."
Samuel froze.
At the same moment, a burning pain shot through his chest.
"Aaghgghghh!"
He grabbed his chest with both hands.
It felt as if someone had driven a piece of glowing iron directly into his heart.
Not onto his skin.
Not between his ribs.
Deeper.
Much deeper.
Straight into his very core.
Samuel gasped.
He collapsed onto his side, curling in on himself.
His entire body tensed.
Every breath burned.
What is happening to me?!
He clenched his teeth.
It did not help.
The pain grew stronger.
His heart hammered against his chest so violently that he thought his ribs might break.
It burned.
Not like fire against his skin.
But as if every fibre of his heart itself had become a flame.
He wanted to scream.
But barely any air left his lungs.
Bright spots danced before his eyes.
His fingers dug into the cold ground.
Stones pressed painfully into his palms.
He barely noticed.
Everything that existed was this burning.
Seconds.
Maybe only three.
Maybe ten.
To Samuel, they felt endless.
And then...
...the pain vanished.
Not slowly.
It was simply gone.
Samuel fought for breath.
Sweat ran down his forehead and neck.
His heart was still beating far too quickly.
He remained motionless for a moment.
His chest rose and fell rapidly.
Carefully, he placed a hand over his heart.
Nothing.
No wound.
No heat.
Only his pounding heartbeat.
Slowly, he sat up.
The wind returned.
The stars remained unchanged in the sky.
The rocks lay silently around him.
Everything looked exactly as it had before.
As if nothing had happened at all.
Samuel looked into the darkness.
"...Hello?"
No answer came.
The presence was gone.
Completely.
Almost as if it had never been there.
Samuel remained sitting there for a long time.
He did not know what had just happened.
Had he been dreaming?
Or had exhaustion played a trick on his mind?
But the pain had felt too real to be nothing more than imagination.
Slowly, he lay back down on the blanket.
His thoughts continued circling around the few words that had been left behind.
Your heart should burn.
He did not understand what they meant.
And the longer he thought about it, the heavier his eyes became.
Exhaustion returned all at once.
His breathing slowed.
The stars slowly blurred above him.
One final time, he placed a hand against his chest.
His heart was beating normally again.
Slowly, he closed his eyes.
This time, no images from his past appeared.
No screams.
No fire.
Only deep, silent darkness...
Morning arrived quietly.
Samuel opened his eyes before the sun had fully risen.
For a few moments, he did not move.
The unfamiliar ground beneath him.
The cold air.
The strange silence.
Then memory returned.
The mountains.
The journey.
Gustov.
Vorzak.
The voice.
His hand immediately moved toward his chest.
Nothing.
No pain.
No strange warmth.
Only his heartbeat.
Normal.
Samuel sat up slowly and looked around.
The small campsite looked exactly as it had the night before. The extinguished fire. The scattered stones. The broken branches he had collected.
Everything was still there.
And yet something felt different.
He could not explain it.
Not because something had changed around him.
Because something inside him had.
He rubbed his face and let out a quiet breath.
"What was that...?"
No answer came.
Of course not.
The morning wind moved between the rocks, carrying the scent of stone and dry grass.
Samuel stood.
His body was tired, but not as much as he expected.
He packed his blanket and belongings, tightened his backpack, and looked north.
The mountain range waited in the distance.
Closer now.
Still impossible to ignore.
He knew the road ahead would not be easy.
He knew there would be dangers.
Questions.
Things he did not understand.
But standing there, alone beneath the endless sky, Samuel felt something he had not felt yesterday.
Not confidence.
Not certainty.
Something smaller.
But important.
The feeling that he could continue.
He adjusted the straps of his backpack.
Then he started walking.
The broken landscape stretched before him.
Every step carried him closer to the mountains.
Closer to whatever waited beyond them.
And somewhere deep inside, beneath the fear and uncertainty, a quiet thought remained.
Keep going.
So he did.