Chapter 34

After breakfast we took stock of our supplies and agreed that we needed to act before winter truly settled in. I suggested that Ashlara and I return to Northgate - that I’d go into the city, find a job we could finish in a few days, and use the coin to buy what we needed.

Mirri immediately pushed back against the idea. Ashlara didn’t look pleased either, though she conceded it might be our best option. Serah, as ever, said nothing.

I told Mirri that if she needed me, I could return quickly through the demesne. She countered that if something went wrong, she wouldn’t have any way to tell me. I reminded her that Serah would be here, and she couldn’t deny that the greatest dragon I’d ever met was more than capable of protecting them. I also made it clear we didn’t have to leave right away - we had time. Maybe we could go next week. She didn’t argue further, only said she’d think about it.

Thanks to Ashlara and me, we were well stocked on firewood. The two of us would hunt and, with luck, bring back enough to last the couple of weeks we might be gone. In the worst case, Grams was only a few hours away and might be able to help. And, of course, Serah remained as an ever-present safeguard.

I spent the morning practicing magic with Mirri and Lilae. The little goblin had a surprising amount of talent and could manage small spells - sparks, as Nanders had called them - that I still struggled with. We made good study partners, close enough in ability that neither of us felt left behind.

At lunch, Ashlara and I trained again. I’d improved enough that she could start teaching me more advanced techniques, and she was able to gradually push her own strength and speed. I still ended up on my ass more often than not, but it was enjoyable, and Adhaneth felt more natural in my hands with each passing day.

After that, I turned inward once more, sensing my Faith and stepping into my demesne.

This time, I didn’t appear at the crossroads, but at a simple fork in the road. Instead of cobblestone, the surface was macadam, marked with a double yellow line down the center. It was wide - far wider than any road I’d seen here - and felt as though it had been lifted straight from Earth. The scent of fresh tar hung heavy in the air, as if it had only just been laid.

Behind me, the road was solid and clear, free of fog and stretching far into the distance. Ahead, both directions stopped a short distance away and the rest of the landscape was swallowed by a thin, persistent mist.

To my left stood a billboard. One portion showed trees, the vague shape of something white and furry, and the letters “HA” at the bottom, while the rest was bare metal - clean and unfinished, as though someone had begun mounting the image and stopped after securing only a handful of panels.

To my right was the foundation of a building made of red brick and fresh mortar. The walls were incomplete, rising to uneven heights before simply fading away. Inside, a half-finished tile floor spread out. As I walked across it, the tiles solidified beneath my feet, filling in what looked like a planned pattern. The walls, however, remained insubstantial, refusing to form no matter how close I came.

The whispers were still there - not a chorus, but scattered voices, almost polite in their restraint, as if waiting their turn to speak. For a moment, I thought of old stories about fairies luring travelers into the woods with familiar voices. These murmurs felt familiar, but never quite crossed the line of recognition. They were quiet, indistinct, offering only fragments.

“...you…”

“…do…”

“…take…”

I turned back and followed the clear road behind me, hoping to understand where it led. It carried me into a rolling forest of tall evergreens, fog limiting my sight to a few dozen feet. The place felt peaceful, uncannily similar to the woods around our home. Hills rose and fell, shallow valleys dipped, and patches of old snow lingered on the ground - not fresh, but not fully melted either.

What struck me most was the relative silence. There was no wind, no rustle of branches, no birdsong. Only the whispers remained. Looking up, I spotted a crow suspended mid-flight, frozen as though time itself had stopped. A little farther on, a rabbit stood just off the road. It didn’t flee as I approached. I reached out and touched it - it was warm and soft, alive in every way except motion. I could move it, but it could not move itself.

I walked on. After an hour or so, the trees gave way to open plains. Tall golden grasses bent as if under a breeze that no longer existed, perfectly still. The sky remained overcast, the fog refusing to lift. The voices thinned the farther I went, though they never vanished entirely.

Eventually, a great wall rose out of the haze ahead -Northgate. I quickened my pace.

The city was exactly as I remembered it. The road to the gate held travelers frozen mid-step. Guards stood motionless, papers in hand, caught forever in the act of questioning entrants. Inside the walls, the people were the same - locked in place, suspended in their daily lives.

By then I’d been gone a few hours, and I didn’t want to worry the others. I reached out for my Faith and found the same constellation of beacons as before, though they were more spread out now. Instead of moving toward the cluster, I chose a single light - steady, slightly redder than the rest and with golden flecks - and stepped toward it.

The world blurred for an instant, then resolved.

I stood on old flagstones amid the ruins of a building. Only two walls remained, one still bearing the cutout of a window. Beside me was an ancient stone well, and next to it stood Ashlara, filling buckets with water for our home only a short distance away.

She jumped back as I appeared, dropping the bucket with a clatter. “Hells, Seth! You startled me!”

“Sorry,” I said. “I was testing something.”

She shook her head, bent to retrieve the bucket, and I stepped back into my demesne.

* * *

Red with golden flecks was Ashlara. Somehow, that felt right.

When I returned to my demesne, I found myself standing at a hallway intersection. Plain white walls stretched out in every direction, broken at regular intervals by light wooden doors. Narrow windows were set into each door, identical and orderly. The floor was tiled in white speckle, and unlike other places I’d seen here, it didn’t fade after a few dozen steps. It remained solid - clean and intentional. The fog lingered even here, thicker than before, though behind me the hall was clear, leading back to a set of double doors with silver push bars.

This wasn’t why I’d come, but curiosity tugged at me anyway.

I approached the nearest door and peered through its window. Inside, half a dozen school desks were clustered near the entrance in a semi-orderly fashion. I turned the knob and stepped inside.

As I moved farther into the room, more desks formed, as though the classroom were finishing itself in response to my presence. A teacher’s desk solidified at the front, and by the time I reached the first row, the room was nearly whole. Nearly, but not quite. The walls were bare. No posters, no shelves, no hints of what might be taught here. The blackboard was pristine, untouched by chalk or thought.

I sat in one of the front desks and waited, half-expecting someone to enter and begin a lesson. No one did.

With a slow breath, I leaned forward and rested my face in my hands.

“You can…” whispered a voice.

“…take the…” another followed.

“…believe…” breathed a third.

The words were clearer here - still incomplete, but closer. Was it the classroom? The time I’d spent wandering this place? Or were the voices themselves growing stronger? I couldn’t say. I only knew that more of their meaning slipped through the cracks now, even if the whole remained frustratingly out of reach.

I listened for a while longer, but no revelation came.

So I did what I’d come here to do.

I reached for my Faith and found the beacons once more. This time, I chose the blue light threaded with green. I stood and stepped toward it.

The world dissolved into fog and reformed around me in an instant. I was in the kitchen, Mirri standing at the counter with her back to me as she prepared lunch. I smiled and slipped my arms around her. She squeaked in surprise.

“Wha-?” She twisted in my grip. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

I only smiled, kissed the top of her head, and let her go. “Sorry. Just trying some things out.”

Before she could respond, I stepped back into my demesne.

I was getting better at this. It took only a moment now to sense my Faith and return to this place. Leaving still required more effort - finding an anchor, choosing where to go - but even that was becoming familiar. At least now I knew that Mirri was blue and green.

This time, I stood atop a narrow column of stone, suspended high in the air. The fog was thinner here, but it still swallowed everything at distance. Dark shapes loomed far away - too vague to identify as buildings, trees, or rock formation. I had no sense of how distant they truly were.

Directly below me, the fog thinned enough to reveal jagged rock a thousand feet down. All around, the mist drifted and curled like slow-moving clouds. Yet there was no wind. No birds. No insects. The sky remained overcast, a dull brightness that made it feel as though I were standing inside a cloud rather than beneath one. The whispers followed me even here.

“They…”

“…in you.”

“Just…”

With no clear path - and no desire to test gravity - I didn’t linger. I reached out again, found the beacons. Two remained in the little contellation. I chose the purple one that flickered red, like a candle struggling against a draft, and stepped toward it.

The fog thinned into rocky hills and evergreen trees. We were close to home, though I couldn’t say how close. Ahead of me, Serah stood at the edge of a rocky outcrop, her toes just over the ledge, gazing out at the landscape below.

I cleared my throat softly. I’d startled enough people today, and I had no desire to see Serah lose her balance. She tilted her head slightly in acknowledgment but didn’t turn. I moved closer, careful to keep my distance from the edge. I didn’t fear heights exactly, but we’d never been friends.

“Nice view,” I said.

“Yes,” she replied simply.

“It reminds me of my world,” I went on. “If you travel an hour or two from the city, there are mountains. Not sharp like Yveth’s peaks - we have those too, but they’re far to the west. Near where I lived, they were more like this. Big, rocky hills covered in trees. I didn’t visit them often. I was usually too busy.”

Silence stretched between us.

“There are mountains near my home as well,” she said at last. “Tall. Jagged. The nights glow red from lava. It is warm, even in winter.”

“I’d love to see it someday,” I said.

“Impossible,” she answered, final and unyielding. “Your kind are not permitted. It is… dangerous.”

“Do you miss it?” I asked.

She didn’t reply right away. “Sometimes,” she said quietly.

I nodded. “Life can be complicated.”

“Did you need something?” she asked.

“No,” I said. “I was just trying something out. When I saw you here, I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yes,” she replied absently.

“If I can help - with anything - let me know,” I said. “Even if it’s just to listen.”

She nodded, but didn’t speak.

I stepped back into my demesne.