"Wait—we could get to the Great Sage!" I exclaimed, louder than I intended.
Their heads snapped toward me in near perfect sync. Both Queen Jeisha and Vareon stared, eyes wide, startled by the sudden surge in my voice.
"What?" they said, almost at the same time.
I reached toward the satchel fastened to my hip, fingers brushing against the soft cloth interior until I felt the cold curve of silver.
"I… I have a compass," I said, my voice steadier now, though my heartbeat was thudding in my throat. "One that was left behind by the Great Sage herself. It tracks her direction… or her presence, I'm not entirely sure. But it moves."
Their expressions shifted instantly—Queen Jeisha's eyes narrowed with sudden interest, while Vareon leaned forward, visibly skeptical but attentive.
"Where did you get that?" Vareon asked, voice edged with disbelief.
I hesitated for a moment. Even saying it out loud felt strange, like admitting something I hadn't truly processed myself.
"It was a thank-you gift," I began, carefully pulling the small compass from the satchel. The silver was worn, edges dulled by time, but it still pulsed faintly with a bluish rune carved at the center. "An elder from a small mountain village gave it to me. I was passing through, desperate, looking for a place to stay—refuge. I helped them from a gang that was extorting them for money… and in return, she gave me this."
Queen Jeisha stepped closer, eyes fixed on the artifact as though it held the weight of an entire age.
"That's… no ordinary compass," she muttered.
I nodded slowly, fingers tightening around the device.
"It's how I ended up in the Elven Forest, Queen," I added, turning toward her. "I followed the compass for weeks. Through ravines, across ruins, even through storms that never touched the valley floor. I thought it was leading me nowhere."
"But it wasn't," Vareon said, voice quieter now.
"No," I replied. "It led me straight to your borders, Queen Jeisha. To where… all of this began."
She took in a breath, long and thoughtful, as if the pieces of a larger puzzle were starting to form behind her eyes.
"You held a piece of fate all this time," she murmured.
I didn't respond. I wasn't sure if it was fate… or just coincidence cloaked in mystery.
But now, it didn't matter.
For the first time in months, the path forward shimmered with possibility—and with it, a sliver of hope.
All three of us looked down at the compass in my palm.
It spun slowly, then clicked into place—its needle now pointing toward the east.
"It's directing us east," I said, glancing between them. "Is there a place in that direction we could go?"
Vareon's brows furrowed, his hand rising to stroke the ends of his beard.
"Hmm… perhaps," he muttered, hesitation creeping into his voice.
"Then we follow the trail," Queen Jeisha declared, folding her arms with quiet determination.
Vareon didn't immediately respond. His gaze lingered on the compass, but there was something else in his eyes now—concern… or maybe fear.
"But I doubt it will be pleasant to go there," he finally said.
I tilted my head slightly. "What's in the east?"
He looked up, voice turning grave.
"It is the region of Distorted Mist and Pilgrimage."
Queen Jeisha inhaled sharply. "So… it's that forest. The one where beings of abomination reside."
Vareon gave a small nod. "It is. A place warped by ancient magic and forgotten rituals. Few who enter return the same. The people who dwell there… their lives revolve around pilgrimage. Faith and fear walk hand in hand."
"And what makes it so dangerous aside from the abominations?" I asked, tightening my grip on the compass.
Vareon paused.
"The unknown, Vanessa," he said quietly. "The unknown is not something we tackle lightly. And for people like us… who have seen much… it is often what lies beyond reason that we fear the most."
A cold stillness settled in the chamber. The compass continued to hum softly in my palm, as if unfazed by the weight of our hesitation.
Yet even in our doubt, it pointed forward—unyielding.
Now at the library....
Queen Jeisha stepped toward the library vault, her expression unreadable.
"We call it the Distorted Mist and Pilgrimage now, but centuries ago, it had another name," she said. "The region was once known as Ravanhyr Vale, a sacred land untouched by war—until something awakened."
Vareon moved toward one of the rune-sealed tomes. "The mist was not always there," he said, brushing his hand across the cover. "The oldest records say it began when a massive underground gate was unearthed by pilgrims. They believed it was a divine calling—an ancient path to salvation."
The Queen's voice turned quiet. "But what they found wasn't salvation. It was distortion."
Vareon set the book down, his hand trembling slightly.
"This place, Vanessa… it doesn't just twist nature. It feeds on the minds of those who carry faith and doubt in equal measure."
Queen Jeisha folded her arms. "And you… holding the compass of the Great Sage, are both the guide and the offering."
I stared at the compass again. It still pointed east, its surface now faintly reflecting something—shifting shadows in the glass like fog behind glass.
The flickering lantern cast trembling shadows along the walls, the distorted mist outside gently pressing against the temple's stained glass.
Vareon finally turned from the ancient tome, his voice level but marked by quiet urgency.
"Then we have no time to waste. If the compass has begun to pulse… then the threads have been pulled tighter."
He stepped to the stone table at the center of the chamber and with a gesture, summoned an ancient star-map etched with glowing constellations and thin winding paths. It looked less like a map and more like a web.
"Listen closely," he said, eyes narrowing. "This is the path we must weave—delicate and grim."
"First," he began, "Vanessa… you and Queen Jeisha will travel eastward from the Temple of Threads. Your next destination is clear: seek out Luna Gadriel."
"She is not merely a warrior. She is a key—a living fulcrum in this world's changing fate. She must be protected, and she must be guided. The Dragonlord will declare war upon the world soon, and when it does, Luna must stand beside you until the veil breaks and silence is replaced by fire."
Queen Jeisha's lips tightened. "And if the kingdoms collapse before we reach her?"
Vareon nodded, expecting the question. "Then we adapt. Find refuge. Hide within the mountain enclaves if you must. There are old sanctuaries beneath the cliffside of Ynnvar's Teeth—abandoned by the Astral Priests long ago. Use them. Or if all fails... retreat to the Elven Forest. Our last bastion."
He paused.
"But know this: if you get entangled in the war between Seremonya and Cindral, delay will be your enemy. The stars tell me the outcome will not be swift. It may take months before the ground stops bleeding."
I glanced at the compass again, its direction unwavering.
"And during this," I asked quietly, "What of Solviel's fragments? What of her stolen pieces?"
Vareon turned toward me. "Three stolen. Three scattered. Three still pulsing faintly across the threads of this realm. You must investigate what happened to them. Without Solviel whole, there can be no peace—no resistance to the Great Shattering."
He tapped three points across the glowing map—each briefly pulsing with eerie blue light.
"One may have been taken into the Rift-Shard Bastion… that place reeks of hollow time. Another lies beneath the caverns of Seremonya, deep beneath the throne of its kings. The last? I suspect it now travels with a cursed procession wandering the Dustroad Wastes, led by a man who has forgotten he is dead."
Jeisha's eyes darkened. "You want us to chase ghosts in a world unraveling at the seams."
Vareon's gaze didn't falter. "Only if you wish to sew it whole again."
He then gestured to the far corner of the map, toward a swirling glyph of fog and tendrils.
"Once the war ends—if it ends—you must head here. Eastward. To Ravanhyr Vale."
"The region is tethered to the Great Sage of the Silent Age. If there's a being alive that understands the language of broken spirits, or how to restore what was lost in Solviel... it is Her."
He exhaled, voice hushed now.
"The Celestial Order will be preoccupied during the war. They'll try to stall the Seremonyan advance… or at least bargain for unity between Cindral and Seremonya before the Dragonlord makes its first move. But they are not enough. You three are not soldiers in this war. You are the thread-keepers."
Silence held us for a long breath.
"And the final goal?" I asked.
Vareon stepped forward, placing his palm over the mist-glowing compass.
"To restore Solviel. To bind her fragments and return the Radiant Soul to her full grace. For only then can the gates of the Abyss be sealed… and the Dragonlord stopped before it speaks the Final Chord."
A gust of wind suddenly howled through the temple's open archways, making the chandeliers rattle. The mists outside pulsed.
It was as if something out there had been listening all along.
The winds had changed.
They whispered before. Soft and distant, like memories slipping through the seams of my dreams. But now… they howled. Not loud, no — not yet. But long, steady, and unnatural, as if the land itself was exhaling a breath it had been holding for centuries. The kind of sound that made you want to turn back even before taking the first step.
I stood by the stone arch of the temple gate, watching the mists slither between the marble columns like curious ghosts. Queen Jeisha was beside me, adjusting her vambrace with silent precision, her face unreadable under the weight of command. There was no sunrise to greet us — just the cold breath of the mountains and the flicker of blue lanterns lining the path ahead.
This was all still the same night.
The same damned night I walked into a council chamber expecting whispers — and instead heard the word dragon.
The same night I thought I would finally rest, only to show a compass pointing east — into the heart of the unknown, into Ravanhyr Vale.
The same night Vareon confessed his plan. A final plan. A desperate one.
To find Luna Gadriel.To prepare for war.To face abominations and the fractured remains of Solviel.And if all else failed… to run back to the Elven forest and hope the trees still remembered my name.
"Do you regret it?" I asked her quietly.
Queen Jeisha looked at me, the moonlight catching the silver filigree of her shoulder plate. Her gaze didn't falter. "No. Regret is a luxury for when we have time. And time is no longer our ally."
I gripped the compass again. Its needle spun once — then stilled, unwavering in its pull toward the east.
"That place," I murmured, "Ravanhyr Vale… it's beyond anything we've seen, isn't it?"
"It is," she answered. "A land older than war and untouched by peace. If the Great Sage is truly there… then we'll find her."
If we're still ourselves by the time we do, I thought, but didn't say it aloud.
Behind us, the Temple of Threads stood tall and silent — a monument to gods who refused to answer. High Seer Vareon watched us from the upper balcony. He didn't wave. He didn't speak. But his eyes said everything.
This wasn't a mission.This was a burial.Of safety, of certainty, of who we used to be.
My steps were heavy, but they moved. One after another, until I could no longer see the gate behind us.
And as the mists began to curl tighter around the road, I whispered to the wind:"Luna… please be safe."
I had no idea how close she will be.But I knew this: the moment we found her, the world would already be falling apart.
All of this happened in one night.A single thread pulled.A thousand fates unraveling.And at the center of it — a princess of a ruined kingdom, a queen eager and desperate to find solutions, and something ancient waiting to wake.