42. Aryn
Aryn
We leave the mountain pass and the world opens up.
The heavy snow choking the high trails thins, and by midday there’s barely more than a light dusting on the ground.
It’s still bitterly cold, but the air no longer feels like it’s trying to kill us.
Jagged peaks and purple mountains loom in the distance, but the land flattens into rolling hills and wide valleys.
Patches of hardy grass push through the snow, and the trees grow in thicker clumps.
Underbrush surrounds the trunks in a carpet of vibrant blue ferns, while deep red vines climb to weave between branches.
It almost feels like an entirely new world—one that’s far more alive and welcoming than the one we left behind.
Before we even stop for breakfast, signs of life appear in the distance, and we pass the first group of travelers at a fork in the road.
Two merchant wagons head south, loaded with wares and surrounded by armed escorts.
They give us cautious but respectful nods as we pass, and as if they granted permission for society to exist once more, people appear in greater numbers.
Groups pass on sylvarenback or in wagons pulled by kravache.
Homesteads dot the landscape, with fenced gardens and smoke curling from chimneys.
As we crest a tall hill, a larger village sits nestled in the valley below.
Dozens of slate-covered roofs reflect the morning sunlight, and even from this distance I can see people working the fields that surround it.
Brihn rides up beside Cato and me. “That’s Lhoris,” he says, pointing toward the cluster of buildings. “One of the bigger trading stops in this region.”
“Lhoris?” I repeat. “Surely not.”
“Are you accusing me of fibs, Father?”
I shake my head, still staring at the village. “The last time I saw it, that place was only a run-down inn with a few rickety market stalls. Half the time, both were falling apart.”
“It used to be much smaller when I was a boy,” Brihn agrees.
“When people started leaving the southern areas, this was one of the first places travelers passed. They’d stop to rest or refill their supplies, and over time, some stayed.
Local farmers set up stalls, and eventually it became a proper trading post. They’ve grown into a thriving community now. ”
I’m trying to reconcile the clean, bustling village with the tiny pit stop I once knew. The landscape of the mountains beyond is the same as it ever was, but everything else has changed.
“That’s incredible. Truly.”
“It is. Lhoris is best known for their shoes.”
“Shoes?” I ask with a disbelieving laugh, glancing at Brihn.
He smiles and nods. “A family of cobblers lives there now. They’re some of the best in the lands, truly. The Vaelor purchases her royal guard’s boots from them.”
We continue along and the road grows wider and better maintained.
Though we never fully relax, the constant stress of being on lookout fades now that we’re back among society.
Farmers and merchants pass with carts, and families travel on foot.
Some stare openly at our mixed group—especially at the humans—but most offer polite greetings or wary nods before continuing on their way.
Later in the afternoon, city walls and taller buildings rise against the horizon. Once again, I’m nearly rendered speechless. “Is that… Tanithil?”
“It is,” Brihn agrees. “One of the more prominent cities south of the capital. Not as grand as some, but booming. The blacksmith guild has taken residence there. You can see their forges even from here.”
A faint layer of smoke hovers over the city, and I listen, fascinated, as Brihn tells me about the weapons and armor they craft. Once again, the Vaelor supports the local artisans by supplying her scouts and armies with their steel.
One of Brihn’s guards calls for his attention, and as he rides off, I lean my chin on Cato’s shoulder and take it all in. “When I was young, we would come to Tanithil to find trouble.”
“You?” he demands, glancing back at me. “Trouble? What did you do, sneak into libraries for a good read? Have a rebellious journaling session under the trees?”
I scoff and dig my fingertips into his side until he squirms, his laughter finally breaking free.
“I’ll have you know I got into plenty of trouble in my day.
When we were old enough to be trusted with the task, a few of my friends and I were sent to the market on occasion.
We’d ride up and scrape together a few extra coins for some thraeva.
The first night we were always high as the Fates.
Wasting money on cakes and ale, then chasing a good time behind closed doors. ”
Cato turns to look at me fully, eyes narrowed as they dart down my frame. “You ran to the city to get high and find someone to fuck?”
“Are you jealous of where I stuck my cock almost two hundred years ago?” I tease, lips brushing the shell of his ear.
Cato lets out a low, flustered laugh, but I feel the way his body reacts under my arms. “Maybe I am,” he mutters, leaning back into my chest a little more. “It’s kind of a mind fuck, you know. You were out here getting high and chasing a piece of ass before my parents were even born.”
My arms tighten around his waist as I press a kiss to the side of his neck. “That just means I have all the experience I need to handle you, kitten.”
He elbows me in the ribs, though there’s no real force behind it. “You’re the worst.”
“You like knowing I was young and reckless once. I used to sneak off with my friends, get completely wrecked, and find someone willing to let me fuck them senseless in the back of a tavern or against a wall in some dark alley.”
Cato groans softly, shifting in the saddle. “You’re evil.”
“Are you picturing it now?”
He shoots another glare over his shoulder. “Your crotch is against my ass, and you’re telling me stories about your slutty youth. Of course I’m picturing it.”
My hand slides lower on his stomach, fingers splaying possessively. “I’m only telling you because you asked. Although… I do enjoy the way you get jealous. It’s cute.”
“I’m not cute,” he grumbles, but his hand comes down to cover mine with a squeeze.
“You’re very cute,” I counter, kissing the side of his neck with a grin. “Especially when you’re pretending not to be turned on by the idea of me being a little wild.”
He huffs but presses back against me, the subtle roll of his hips telling me everything his stubborn words won’t. “Keep talking like that and I’m going to make you pull over so I can show you exactly how not cute I can be.”
“Promises, promises.” I nip his ear once more before straightening up. The wind whips through our hair as Nymir carries us forward, and I cast one last glance at the city that holds so many memories. “One day, I’ll take you there properly. Maybe even recreate a few of them.”
Cato turns his head just enough to look at me, his expression somewhere between amused and turned on. “You going to fuck me in an alley, darlin’?”
I hum noncommittally. “Maybe I will. Something tells me you’d like the possibility of someone overhearing everything I’d be doing to you.”
He grunts and rolls his eyes, but I catch the flush on his cheeks that has nothing to do with the wind.
“Or maybe you’d like the risk of being seen more,” I say as my hand lifts to his chest, holding him against me. “I’d pin you just like this against the wall. Let your head face the crowd so you’d know if we were caught. You’d love it.”
“Think so, do you?” he breathes, still with that bite of challenge in his tone.
My fingers drift lower, brushing over the growing bulge in his pants. “Certainly feels like it to me.”
“Don’t work me up if you’re not willing to finish the job,” he warns.
I laugh quietly, eyes darting toward the rest of our party.
For half a second I consider sliding my hand into his pants and making him eat his words, but the advanced hearing in our group and Cato’s tendency to get loud mean we’d undoubtedly be caught.
While that might add to the fun if we were anonymous, being among friends—and Brihn—puts a damper on the idea.
“Wait until we get to the capital,” I murmur as I slide my hand back to a more respectable spot on his stomach. “We’ll cause some trouble there.”
I hold him a little tighter as his cheeks lift in a grin. “Deal.”
The next morning, something completely new catches my eye. A large, long building sits back from the road, with smoke rising steadily from a line of chimneys. Workers move in and out, carrying bolts of cloth and stacks of cured hides into waiting carriages.
“Is that a factory?” I ask.
Brihn nods. “One of the very first. In the early days, after the veil had just closed, a human visited Lhoris. The way the story is told, she worked in planning factories and assembly lines back in her world. The concept was novel to our people. As you know, we always handled most things within families or villages. One of the tanners took a special interest in the idea and convinced a few of the others they could increase production if they listened to her.”
“It worked, then?” I ask, gesturing at the bustling scene.
“It did. They visited other cities, found the craft workers they needed, and convinced a few of them to join the venture. In the end, a group of weavers, spinners, dye makers, and a few mechanically inclined folk worked together to build this place. Production time for everything was nearly cut in half, and word spread. It’s grown into something incredible. ”
“I’ll be damned,” Cato mutters as he watches them work.
“Not everything from your world was bad,” Brihn says gently, “and not everything from this world is, either. Evil is loud, but the good is there, too. It’s just quieter. Sometimes you have to look for it.”
My chest swells with quiet pride at the way the world has adapted. “I’ve never seen anything like that here before.”
Brihn smiles. “We’re learning. Slowly, sometimes, but learning nonetheless. Not everything can be solved with swords and brute force.”
The further north we travel, the more populated the roads become.
What were once empty, snow-covered trails fill with fellow travelers, merchant caravans, and groups of locals.
By midday we cross paths with one of the Vaelor’s patrols—riders in heavy purple cloaks over well-worn leather armor.
Their presence brings a sense of safety after so many days of constantly looking over our shoulders.
The rest of the journey is almost pleasant, even with our exhaustion. Everyone is sore from the long hours in the saddle and tired from sleeping in short intervals, but the mood has lifted. Spirits are higher than they’ve been since we left Maelithryne.
By the time the sun sets, we’ve made up for lost time. We’re close now. A final, gentle rise waits in the distance. By morning we’ll crest it, and beyond lies the capital city, along with the entire reason we’ve come this far.