Gadriel awoke at an indeterminate hour.
For a brief moment, he simply stared ahead, disoriented, half-expecting stone walls or open sky. Instead, he found himself exactly where he had fallen asleep—slumped in the chair within Shalidor's pocket-space, the dim greenish-blue light still leaking through the narrow windows.
"…Wow," he muttered after a second, rubbing his face. "I really hate that staff."
His eyes drifted downward to where the Staff of Shalidor lay on the floor, inert and harmless-looking, as if it hadn't nearly drained him dry only hours before. Gadriel sighed and leaned forward, retrieving it with one hand.
"At least the trip back isn't nearly as bad," he said, more to reassure himself than anything else.
He planted the staff against the floor and focused.
The gem embedded at its head began to glow, pulsing with that same bluish-green light. The air around him shimmered, reality stretching thin like cloth pulled too tight.
And then—
He was gone.
Gadriel reappeared in the real world with a soft displacement of air. Heat washed over him immediately, dry and familiar. He straightened and turned slowly, taking in his surroundings until the jagged ruins of Valyria came into view not far behind him.
"Alright," he said quietly. "I guess I should start moving…"
He paused.
"Oh. Right."
His gaze flicked back toward the ruins. "My horse."
A faint smile tugged at his lips. "I wasn't gone long. She should still be tied up."
Gadriel raised one hand and murmured a short incantation. The ground nearby darkened as skeletal forms clawed their way free—simple constructs, nothing ornate. He pointed toward the ruins.
"Go," he ordered. "Bring her back."
The skeletons moved without hesitation, vanishing into the broken city. Gadriel waited, arms folded, listening to the distant wind. It wasn't long before he heard familiar hoofbeats.
Dust emerged between the ruined stones, eyes wide and ears pinned back as the skeletons guided her forward. She snorted nervously, but the moment she saw Gadriel, she calmed, lowering her head and stepping toward him.
"There you are," Gadriel said softly, reaching out to steady her.
The skeletons released the reins and collapsed into ash at his feet.
Gadriel fed Dust a handful of oats and let her drink from his waterskin, resting a hand against her neck as she ate. Once she was settled, he swung up into the saddle and turned her away from Valyria.
They rode.
The air grew cleaner with every step away from the ruins. The land stretched wide and open—rolling plains of golden grass swaying gently in the heat. The sun dipped low, then vanished entirely, leaving the sky painted in fading reds and deepening blues.
"This is nice," Gadriel said quietly as the wind passed through his silver-blond hair. "I missed this."
They rode for hours.
Gadriel gave Dust regular breaks, dismounting when needed, letting her drink and rest. Once or twice, he slipped a diluted stamina potion into her water—just enough to ease the strain without harming her.
He, on the other hand, kept going.
Though fatigue could still touch him, he no longer truly needed sleep. Not like he once had. So he rode beneath the rising moon until its pale light hung high above the plains.
Only then did he stop.
Gadriel dismounted near a lone tree and tied Dust with enough slack for her to lie down comfortably. He gathered wood, sparked a small fire, and unrolled his bedroll beside it.
For the first time in a while, he reached for his journal.
He opened it carefully and dipped his quill in ink.
This new world, although quite foreign to me, has been surprisingly comfortable as of late.There is not nearly as much action here as there was in Skyrim, but I think I'll be able to manage.
Westeros—at least the North, from what I've gathered—is a harsh land with even harsher people. A place shaped by cold, wind, and necessity. A land of honor and pride.When you think about it, it's really not so different from Skyrim.
As for Essos… I still have much to learn. I haven't seen much but I am eager to learn more.
Gadriel read over the words, nodding slightly. He closed the journal with quiet satisfaction and set it beside him.
The fire crackled softly.
Dust settled nearby, breathing slow and steady.
Gadriel lay back, eyes drifting toward the stars overhead, and let sleep take him once more—this time beneath an open sky, moving steadily away from the ruins behind him.