It's been five days since we started traveling.
All I see through the window of the carriage are trees—endless, dense, swaying gently to the rhythm of the wind. On the way, we pass through several small villages, each with about two to five hundred people. They were simple, isolated and poorly protected communities, but there was something welcoming about the way they lived: united, as if everyone there had known each other forever.
Security was ensured by local guards and the Mercenary Guild. Each village had a governor —not someone strong or influential, but usually a literate person who cared for the needs of the place.
Near the town of Lua Nova, most people lived off farm work. Some took care of sheep, cows, or horses; others were dedicated to the cultivation of corn, wheat and other vegetables essential for daily life.
In the fall, carriages departed from the camps carrying some of what was harvested—a mandatory tax to keep New Moon supplied.
I was sitting in the middle of the camp, on top of a shapeless, white stone, placed near the campfire. He kept his legs crossed and his spine erect. My long hair was damp with sweat, and my heart beat slowly, rhythmic like an ancient drum.
The darkness seemed to naturally accumulate around me, as if the world itself wanted to envelop me. The heat of the fire did not reach me. There was a decadent vibration in the air, something that escaped logic, as if the environment was distorted around me.
Every minute, I exhaled slowly, letting thin threads of black mist escape through my lips. It would rise, snake through the air, and disappear, carrying with it a faint reddish glow—subtle but present. It was this phenomenon that caused this abnormality in the environment. I knew that.
After an hour in this state, I opened my eyes.
At the same time, I noticed the temperature and the surrounding atmosphere return to normal. But inside me... Inside me there was still an intense cold, an ice that seemed to have taken root in my chest. It spread, slow and cruel, through my organs. And I felt it all—I felt it through my light of life.
It took several minutes for that cold to disappear. Until then, all I could do was endure.
Even after I opened my eyes, the fire of my soul still burned. I could feel it there, crackling deep in my being. The twelve runes, engraved in my essence, began to fade one by one. A silent, almost ritualistic process. They all disappeared... except the first. She remained. A little blurry, maybe unstable, but still there—alive. Present.
The heat began to slowly return to my body. I felt my fingers warming up first, then my feet. I took a deep breath and looked up at the night sky. The stars twinkled, indifferent to everything. I yawned. It was time for bed.
During the trip, I opted for loose-fitting linen clothes, lighter and more comfortable. My suit and other belongings were carefully stored; There was no need for formalities in the middle of the forest. Just silence, darkness and the sound of the ember dying.
I got back into the carriage, lay down on the padded seat, and covered myself with a thin blanket. Sleep came easy.
I was awakened at dawn, as always, by my trusty biological clock. It was as if an ancient mechanism, perfect in its precision, called me back to wakefulness. I got up, reorganized the camp quickly and efficiently, and soon we were back on the road—me, Doug, and Rammal.
"I heard that the Golden Galleon is different from the New Moon City," I asked Rammal, keeping my eyes on the road ahead.
He turned his face slightly towards me. He was in his mid-forties, but he looked older now. His skin was more yellow, and only then did I notice clearly his mutilated ear—the left, if my memory serves me correctly. He had lost half of it years ago, but he never commented. In fact... I think it had been a long time since I had watched him closely. Time had been cruelling to him. Much more than with other men.
"Yes, I've been there once," he replied with a faint smile, his voice charged with nostalgia. "And he was accompanied by Miss Benta. It was a great trip"
I remained silent for a few seconds, just listening.
"The port is a very pleasant place to stay," he continued. "Much better than our territory... perhaps even better than the capital itself. The streets are clean. People of all races live there, side by side. You can buy just about anything you want. There are many shops, and ships of all kinds. It's the most beautiful city I've ever seen"
"I'm curious," he said, frowning. "Who governs the place?"
"The royal house" replied, directly. "More precisely, the navy general. He answers directly to the king. It's a good place, but very well guarded. It is not easy to enter or leave without them noticing. It will take about half a year before we get there."
I leaned forward a little.
"Are there any thieves in the way?" I asked, more seriously, frowning.
"Yes. Not many," Doug replied, approaching with a half-smile. Apparently, the conversation attracted him. "The situation is better now"
He leaned against the side of the cart and crossed his arms.
"Last time, we lost half of our men. Traveling has never been easy, especially when you leave from villages as far away as ours"
I nodded, thoughtful.
"I got it. I'll make sure it's different this time," I said, with a faint smile as I tapped my fingers on the handle of my halberd. It was covered by a dark cloth, but it was not difficult to imagine what was underneath. The axe blade and the sharp point were still there, hidden... but not harmless. The handle, made of red wood, drew attention in itself — thick, heavy, solid. It was enough to look to know that this was not a simple hiking pole.
"We can just avoid them this time," Doug continued, in a lighter tone—using his heightened senses.
"It's okay," I murmured, already pulling away.
I got back into the carriage and resumed my routine of studies and revision. But I soon realized... it was still far from reaching the Realm of Connection with Nature. The road was long — and increasingly complex.
The days of travel began to pass in a rhythmic way. Every three or four days, we stopped in some small village to replenish our supplies, especially water. We kept avoiding any strange group on the road, as we agreed. The truth is that few thieves continued with hostile intentions after sensing my presence. The pressure of a master of combat was not something easy to ignore—even for the most foolish.
As the weeks passed, I noticed something subtle but telling: the trees were becoming more sparse. Less dense. The trunks more separated, the sunlight filtering more freely. That could only mean one thing.
We were approaching the periphery of the forest.