The Journey Ahead （Part 2）
"You want—But why?" Rowena stammered.
"Because judging by its extravagant design and the way you are holding it so tightly, it is obvious that it is an item of great value. Is it not?"
Gareth began, "It is not up for bargaining—"
But Rowena spoke over him, flashing him a desperate glare, silently urging him not to speak. "It is a family heirloom. It is very valuable, indeed."
"Then what is your answer?" He pressed.
"If I give it to you, you must promise to get us into the city unharmed."
Silverfox's smile deepened, "Of course. You have my word."
Rowena drew a deep breath, "Then it is yours."
Silverfox reached excitedly for the weapon.
But Rowena yanked it back, eyeing him sternly. "After we are safely within the walls of Tide Gate."
Silverfox smirked, leaning back on his heels, tapping his finger on his chin as if he were contemplating her offer.
After a long pause, he finally said, "Usually, I prefer to take my payment upfront... However, since you have freed me from the prison... I accept your offer."
Rowena breathed a sigh of relief, but Gareth eyed the elf suspiciously.
That was too easy...
"Now about my crossbows..." Silverfox began, but Gareth laughed dryly, cutting him off.
"Not a chance." He said, pushing past the elf and dragging Rowena along behind him.
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When they stopped to make camp that night, Zephyrah couldn't help but notice the Dissolver's silence.
She had hoped his unusual quietness was simply worry for Rowena, but even after Rowena awoke and rejoined the others, the boy did not return to his usual self.
He tried to make conversation, but it seemed different than before, forced and insincere.
He was also withdrawn, prone to wandering off by himself, or trailing behind the group, seemingly lost in thought.
This night was no different than the last few.
He sat apart from the group, quietly picking at sticks for kindling while the others carried on with their evening routines.
His eyes were glazed over, and his posture was tense, as if something weighed heavily on his mind.
Finally, Zephyrah's curiosity and concern got the better of her.
She approached him quietly, her voice gentle. "Are you alright this evening?"
The Dissolver startled, his eyes growing wide as his hand flew to the handle of the scimitar on his hip. He let out a shaky breath when his wild eyes settled on Zephyrah.
"Oh... it is you," he murmured, glancing down at the pile of kindling at his feet.
She settled beside him on the ground. "Is something the matter?"
"No," he mumbled, not meeting her gaze.
She placed her hand over his and asked softly, "Are you sure?"
He sighed, and looked up at her.
At last, she saw it.
A deep sadness haunted his eyes, a pain that seemed to completely devour any life that had once filled them.
He looked utterly broken,
lost.
"I was just thinking about... Someone." He murmured.
"Who?"
He squirmed uncomfortably, "Someone I have not thought about in a long time."
Noticing his hesitation, she considered her next words carefully. "What has brought them to mind now?"
He winced, as if the thought itself caused him pain. "The doctor... he did something. He reached into my memories. He made me... see things."
"What things?"
The Dissolver shuddered, then looked away, wrapping his arms around himself.
Zephyrah waited, but after a few moments of silence, she knew she would not get an answer.
She sighed softly, ready to give up, when an idea came to her. She removed the pack from her shoulders and took out her flute.
Turning it over in her hand, she asked softly, "Do you know what makes me feel better when I am sad?"
The boy did not answer, he remained still, staring into the distance.
She continued, her tone light, as if sharing a secret.
"In the forest, there is a grove where sunlight breaks through the trees and shines on a pool with a little waterfall and stream.
I used to sneak away there and play this flute whenever I felt down.
At first, I was terrible, and it only made me feel worse.
But with time and patience, the tangled notes became music.
Now, when I play, the melodies are soothing—magical, even.
Sometimes, they are even enough to drown out sorrow. "
The boy looked up at her, regarding her with curiosity, though there was still pain behind his eyes.
Encouraged, Zephyrah went on, "I think you are like me—sensitive to the Power that flows in this world.
Music is an expression of that Power. It can heal, if you let yourself listen.
Unless, of course, I am just a fool thinking myself more talented than I am.
Would you like to hear a tune? Tell me if you find any magic in it? "
The Dissolver hesitated for a moment before nodding, uncertain.
Zephyrah smiled and began to play a slow, beautiful melody.
At first, the boy barely seemed to listen, his thoughts drifting elsewhere. But as the notes wound their way through the quiet evening, his posture slowly relaxed and the anguish in his eyes softened. The pain lingered, not gone completely; but it faded to a distant murmur.
When she finished the song, the boy sat quietly for a moment, but soon the pain returned to his eyes and his face twisted.
He blurted, sounding almost angry. "There is no magic in your music, Zephyrah."
"Oh—I see..." Zephyrah muttered, her face flushing with shock and embarrassment at her failed attempt to comfort him.
"If you want to help me, why do you not use your real magic?" The boy spat.
Zephyrah stared at him, wide-eyed and confused. "What do you mean?"
The Dissolver growled, seized her hand, and pressed it firmly against his temple.
"Heal my mind. Make it all go away." He demanded, his voice breaking.
Her heart broke as she saw tears brimming in his eyes.
Her voice grew quiet, "I am sorry. I cannot...I wish—"
"Then leave me alone," The Dissolver said, tossing her hand aside. He sat quietly again, tearing up more twigs for kindling, refusing to acknowledge her presence.
Zephyrah felt discouraged as she desperately wanted to help him, but she knew there was no magic cure for the wounds that afflicted him.
Whatever he saw in the torcher chamber, whatever happened to him, scarred him more deeply than his flesh.
Even she did not know how to mend a broken heart—or a tortured mind.
She was so distraught that she almost felt relieved to see Rowena approaching, pulling her attention away from the boy.
"Zephyrah, may I speak with you?" She asked, her voice edged with anxiety.
"Of course," Zephyrah replied, leading Rowena to a secluded part of the camp.
Rowena leaned in, her voice a tense whisper. "I know this might not be the best time, but Gareth told me what happened at the prison—the General, the strange power, and... the elf."
"Yes, but I have to ask—why did you tell him you would give him the weapon?" Zephyrah glanced back at Silverfox, who was still arguing with Gareth over his weapons.
Rowena crossed her arms. "Obviously, I did not mean it. I just need him to believe I will—for now. We will figure out what to do once we are inside the city."
"Rowena... He is dangerous. He will be furious when he realizes you deceived him."
"I cannot worry about that now," Rowena murmured. "We do not have a choice. While I was in the fortress, I overheard the General talking about Prince Ladomir. They plan to capture him and imprison him in Tide Gate—they even know where he might be."
Zephyrah's face twisted, and her expression became uneasy.
"What is it? What is wrong?" Rowena questioned urgently.
Zephyrah's gaze dropped. "Rowena... I do not know how to tell you this."
Rowena's heart lurched in her chest, and her stomach twisted in knots. A sickening feeling came over her as she saw the grave look in Zephyrah's eyes.
"Just say it," she demanded.
Zephyrah sighed heavily and murmured, "I made you a promise that if you helped me save my people, I would locate your father and the heir. I have kept my end of the bargain. I have seen them."
Rowena's face lit up as she clasped Zephyrah's hands. "That is wonderful news! Go on—tell me where they are!"
Zephyrah hesitated, then whispered, "I do not know the exact location.
Only that I saw the ocean... and twisting spires—a city made of glistening pearl and sea stone.
I saw who I believe were your father and your prince, both standing in a city unlike any I have ever imagined.
There were creatures—fish people and sea elves—speaking together, breathing air, moving about as if the city were still above water.
I do not know how it is possible—or how we might reach it. "
Rowena stared at her in disbelief. "You... saw Mythralis? The Kingdom of the Sea?"
Zephyrah nodded slowly.
"That is not possible. Mythralis was lost to the waters hundreds of years ago. The sea elves vanished after the city sank. We all thought it was gone."
"Apparently, the city survived. It is still somewhere in the sea," Zephyrah said.
Rowena's mind raced as she recalled the General's words and the fleet of warships being built in Tide Gate. "We are going to need a ship..."
Zephyrah scoffed. "Rowena, we are going to need a miracle. Kingdoms have searched for Mythralis for centuries and never found it—not with fleets of ships, let alone just one. How do you expect to find a city that does not want to be found?"
Rowena clenched her fists. "Someone in Tide Gate knows where it is—we just have to find out who. I will not give up. Not when we are this close."
"So close to saving your people..." Zephyrah trailed off sadly.
A twinge of guilt stabbed at Rowena as she thought of Zephyrah's people in the forest, still unaware of the danger that loomed over them.
The General spoke of taking the forest as if it were the top priority of his master.
For whatever reason, it was likely they would not soon give up, even after the loss of their general and necromancer—especially if there were other students of the dark arts just waiting to take his place.
Rowena placed a gentle hand on Zephyrah's shoulder. "The General and the Doctor are dead. Surely you have time to return to your people and warn them."
"I cannot go back..." Zephyrah whispered.
Rowena recoiled, surprised. "Why not? Why wouldn't you?"
Zephyrah swallowed hard. "This dark magic... it spreads beyond the forest—I can feel it. And that creature... it spoke as if—" She shuddered, her voice breaking.
She drew a ragged breath and continued, "Jhas'tir can defend Nytheris from armies at her borders, but my people no longer have a connection to the Ancient Power.
They cannot defend themselves against this darkness.
If I return now, without answers—without a way to restore their Power—everything will be lost anyway. "
"What are you saying?"
"I want to stay with you and your company. Whatever this darkness is, it is tied to the Ancient Power—the same Power your King Osias once shared with the nations. I believe the fate of my people is linked to your prince. He must know something—about the Ancient Power and this darkness."
Rowena offered an encouraging smile. "Of course you are welcome to stay. Your abilities have been indispensable."
They both glanced over their shoulders at the others who were settling around the fire.
"We should go." Zephyrah murmured, "They will wonder what is keeping us."