The morning air bit at my skin, crisp and clean, carrying with it the faint scent of damp earth. The sky was sharp and clear, the kind of clarity that only comes after a long night of frost. Behind the weathered wooden buildings, the sun was rising — a slow, molten glow spilling over the rooftops.
I stood at Gorran's grave, hands buried in my coat pockets, my gaze fixed on the simple marker. The soil was still fresh, dark against the frost-kissed grass. I wasn't sure how long I'd been standing there, only that my thoughts kept circling back to one thing.
"You're a drifter, lad," Gorran had said to me once, with that half-smile of his, as if the words meant more than they sounded. At the time, I hadn't understood. Later that night, I'd asked Elhaan what he meant.
The memory rose unbidden.
---
"Drifters…" Elhaan had leaned back in his chair, swirling the dregs of his drink. "They're… exceptional people. Each one leaves a mark on their era — changes the course of things. They think differently. Act differently. No one knows where they come from, but the stories say they're powerful beyond measure."
"Where from?" I'd asked.
He had shrugged. "Some say… from another world entirely. Gorran was one of them. I never met another, and I wouldn't know if I did. But they say… you'll feel it. The weight of them."
---
My hand closed around the small chain beneath my shirt, pulling out the ring I wore around my neck. Simple, worn by years of use — yet it had a strange weight to it. Gorran's own ring, the one he'd left behind, was identical. The same grooves, the same faint engraving only visible when caught in the light.
Why two? The question gnawed at me.
Far beyond the graveyard, in the line of trees along the cliffside, a man stood among the shadows. I almost didn't notice him — he was still, blending into the quiet. His clothes were strange, a style I'd never seen outside of old illustrations — a wide-brimmed hat, long coat, boots worn by dust and travel. At his feet, tethered by a short length of rope, perched a parrot, its bright feathers dulled in the pale morning light.
The bird shifted restlessly. Its master frowned.
"Useless thing," the stranger muttered, his voice barely carrying on the wind. "You stop talkin' the moment it matters… maybe your master's dead, eh?"
The parrot only clicked its beak. The man's eyes drifted toward the inn in the distance. For a moment, he froze. I couldn't hear his thoughts, but I could feel the pause — like a hunter suddenly aware of another predator in the brush. He adjusted his hat, turned on his heel, and slipped back into the trees.
---
When I returned to the inn, the warmth of the hearth hit me like a wave. Elhaan was crouched over a chest in the corner, his brow furrowed in concentration.
"Finally," he muttered, a note of triumph in his voice. The lock clicked open.
The small bell above the door chimed as I stepped inside. He glanced up.
"Good timing, Mikael. I was about to call you."
"What's in it?" I asked, closing the door behind me.
He knelt and began to lift items from the chest, laying them carefully on the table.
"Scrolls — old, odd script. Can't read a word of it. Maps… and not like any I've seen. Look at this." He spread one wide across the wood. "Black Mark Releem… but here —" he tapped the parchment — "two continents no one's ever discovered. No records, no rumors."
My eyes traced the unfamiliar shapes inked into the edges of the sea. Places that shouldn't exist.
"And this…" Elhaan lifted a small copper sphere, smooth but divided into sections. Nine empty indentations marked its surface, each just large enough to hold something. Faint etchings spiraled between them like veins.
"What is it?"
"No idea. But these markings—" he squinted at the tiny script — "they look like coordinates. Several of them. Different corners of the world."
I reached out, feeling the cool weight of the sphere in my palm. For a moment, the morning's chill returned, running down my spine.
Gorran had kept this locked away. And now, it was in my hands.
Author here ,
I tried a little different writing style here
Like narration from Mikael him self .
I like that character Ishmael from Moby Dick who narrate his story .
I tried similar thing .
If u like it I will continue 😊And if not then I won't .
Tell me in comment.
Also here the story is change from raw .
Where gorran got the black mark and died .