The veil of shadows swirled behind me, sealing off the only home I had ever known. The air outside was colder, heavier, and thick with the scent of a thousand different things—sweet bread, scorched metal, damp earth, and something vaguely acrid I couldn't place. The Gloomwood was a silent witness to my departure, its ancient trees closing around the path as if it had never existed. I pulled the Shrouding Cloak tighter, the familiar weight of the Whisper-Edge dagger at my hip, a silent comfort. Grandfather's final words echoed in my mind: You are just like your mother—fierce, with the same unyielding determination. The thought of her, a woman I had never known but who now felt closer than ever, propelled me forward.
Days of silent, solitary travel blurred into one another. I moved through forests, across fields, and along riverbanks, navigating by the stars and the lessons Elias had etched into my mind. My meals were foraged, my nights spent wrapped in the cloak, using the Umbra to mask my presence from the world. My destination was a place Elias had spoken of in hushed, cautionary tones: Silvergate, a city on the edge of a great desert, a crossroads of all things, both good and ill.
The first sign of the city was a faint haze on the horizon, followed by the distant rumble of what I initially thought was a storm. As I drew closer, the sound resolved into a cacophony of voices, clattering metal, and the creak of wagon wheels. The city walls rose from the earth like a jagged mountain range, far taller and more imposing than anything I could have imagined. A steady stream of people flowed in and out of the main gate, a torrent of life I had only read about in ancient scrolls.
I stepped through the gate, and the world assaulted my senses. The air was a thick tapestry of smells—spices I had never encountered, roasting meat, perfumes, and the sharp tang of sweat. The light from the sun, unobstructed by the Gloomwood's canopy, was blinding, reflecting off polished metal and colorful banners. My ears rang with the sheer volume of it all: merchants hawking their wares, children shouting, and the constant, rhythmic clang of a blacksmith's hammer. I shrank back, pulling the hood of my cloak low to hide my face.
A man with a booming voice and a chest as wide as a barrel slapped a hand on my shoulder. "Don't just stand there, lad! Silvergate waits for no one!" he laughed, pushing past me with a cart overflowing with shimmering silks. The sheer touch of another person, a casual, forceful contact, was so alien it made me recoil.
I wandered aimlessly through the market, my eyes wide with wonder and bewilderment.
I saw things I didn't have names for: small, glowing orbs sold by a wizened old woman, intricate clockwork toys that scurried across a table, and mountains of what appeared to be dried, salted fish. I felt a pang of hunger, a feeling more acute than any I'd experienced on my journey. My grandfather had always provided, but now I was on my own. I reached into my tunic, my fingers brushing against the pendant at my chest, a small comfort. Deeper inside, in a hidden pocket, I found a small leather pouch.
Elias had given it to me before I left. "Take this, Kael," he had said. "The world requires certain things to move within it." He had made it sound so simple, so abstract, and I had simply nodded, placing the pouch in my pocket without a second thought.
I found a merchant selling bread that smelled of heaven itself. It was round and warm, and a small knot of my stomach's hunger grew into a desperate plea. I reached into the pouch and pulled out a small, round disc. It was a golden coin, stamped with the face of a crowned man. I had no idea what it was, only that it felt heavy and important.
I held it out to the merchant, a stout woman with flour-dusted hands. "I... I would like some bread," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
She peered at the coin, then at me. Her brow furrowed, and a flicker of suspicion crossed her face. "That's a Silvergate sovereign, lad," she said, her voice dropping a little. "It'll buy you a hundred of these loaves."
I blinked. A hundred? I looked at the single, golden disc in my palm, then at the mountain of bread on her stall. I didn't understand the scale. I had no concept of currency, of value beyond what was necessary to survive. My entire life, food had simply been there, a gift from the Gloomwood.
"I just need one," I said, offering the coin again.
The merchant shook her head, a smile now tugging at her lips. She took a single loaf and handed it to me. "Keep your coin, young one. Pay for something else. That will get you far."
I stared at the bread, then at the gold coin in my hand. It was clear I had stumbled into a world of complex, unspoken rules. I decided to keep the coin for now and learn its true value later. The bread, still warm, was the most delicious thing I had ever tasted.
As the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in fiery oranges and deep purples, the city's energy shifted. Torches were lit, casting long, dancing shadows, and the inns and taverns began to spill with warmth and laughter. I was exhausted, my mind reeling from the constant stimulation, and I knew I needed shelter.
I found an inn tucked away on a side street, its sign a faded painting of a roaring lion. The front door creaked open, revealing a warm, smokey room filled with a dozen or so people. The innkeeper, a man with a booming laugh and a bald head that gleamed in the firelight, was cleaning a tankard behind a long wooden bar.
He looked up as I entered. "A late arrival, are we? Come in, lad, the hearth is warm."
I walked to the bar, unsure of how to proceed. "I... I need a place to stay," I said, my voice still quiet.
He grinned. "A place to stay is what we do! A room for the night will be a few coppers. A hot meal with it, and we'll add a few more."
"Coppers?" I repeated, reaching for the pouch. I pulled out a handful of what felt like small, smooth stones—the coppers he spoke of. Elias had filled the pouch with a variety of coins, and I finally understood what they were for.
I handed him what I thought was a reasonable amount, a small pile of the coppers. He looked at the pile, then at me, and let out a hearty laugh. "That's more than enough, lad! More than enough for a week's stay!" He pushed all but two of the coppers back to me. "A room, a hot stew, and a tankard of ale. What's your name?"
"Kael," I said.
He nodded, a friendly smile on his face. "Kael it is. My name's Bram." He pointed to a small table near the fire. "Take a seat. I'll bring you your supper."
I sat in a corner, my back to the wall, watching the people around me. They were a mix of merchants, travelers, and city folk. They laughed, they argued, they told stories. It was so different from the silent solitude of the Gloomwood. A boy no older than I was laughed loudly, and I felt a strange pang of something I couldn't name. Loneliness? Maybe.
As I ate the rich, savory stew Bram brought me, I thought of Elias. I thought of his lectures on the Aether and the Umbra, his warnings about the Void. I thought of the pendant around my neck, the simple disc he told me to never take off. I thought of the pouch of gold coins, a mystery I had yet to solve. I was alone, but I was not unprotected. And in this bustling, bewildering world, I knew I had a lot to learn. My journey had just begun.