The Road to Riverhelm

Hours passed in silence, the rhythm of our boots the only thread stitching the road together. The world was quieter here than in the tavern, with no rumors or laughter pressing against my thoughts. Only the clean path stretching ahead, the air carrying the faint scent of pine, and the open sky which was wide enough to make even the weight of memory seem smaller.

Lyren had tried, once or twice, to fill the quiet. A comment about the shape of the clouds. A half-hearted question about whether I thought the rumors true. Each time I let the silence answer for me, more comfortable in it than I’d ever admit aloud. The calm wasn’t dull, it was simple. Bearable. A kind of stillness that made walking outside feel like its own reward.

Eventually, Lyren gave up on words. For a time. Then, with a sigh that seemed too theatrical to be genuine, he swung his lute forward and brushed his fingers across the strings. The first notes were hesitant, searching for their place in the stillness, before settling into a melody I knew by heart.

One of his first songs, rough when he wrote it but now polished smooth with practice. Back then, he thought he had to prove he was more than a boy with a lute and a dream. Now, the tune sounded less like a boast and more like a memory, of a hero who had saved the world, yes, but also of two children daring to believe their way of telling stories mattered.

I used to love this song. It made stories feel alive, as if the past could breathe again through his voice. When you sing, there’s no need to ask how to emphasize a point because the melody does the work for you. I only wish he hadn’t forgotten where we began.

The corner of my mouth betrayed me, tugging upward before I could stop it. “Don’t you have anything new to perform?” My words came out sharper than I intended. They always do. He never seemed to mind.

Lyren cut the song short with a grin. “O-ho, so you are interested. Normally I charge for requests, but for you? I’ll waive the fee.”

I rolled my eyes, though not hard enough to hide the smile. “Charging for requests? How can anyone that greedy stay popular?”

“Talent,” he said simply, and let his fingers tumble into another tune. This one lighter, ridiculous. Instead of legends, he sang of us, our old stumbling adventures, the trip we're on now, the future that lies ahead. It wasn’t mockery, but parody, and his goal was obvious. He wanted me to laugh.

I didn’t give him the satisfaction. Not yet. I let the smile linger, wider this time, just enough to prove I was resisting. The game was familiar, one we’d played before, and I realized how much I’d missed it.

But memory has claws. I remembered the promise we’d made, to write together, to shape stories and catalogue history side by side. But he ended up trading ink for strings, and once he found an audience, he never looked back. I told myself I’d forgiven him, but my voice had never softened the way his had. Perhaps that was why I still kept mine sharper than before.

When his playful tune ended, Lyren leaned on the silence pretending like he was winded for a natural conclusion no doubt. “Why don’t you tell me one of your stories? The kind you’ve chronicled. I’d like to hear one.”

For once, there was no trace of theatrics in his voice, it seems that he truly was tired.

“Very well,” I said, pulling a leather-bound book from my bag, hoping it was one of mine and not another undeciphered tomb. “My latest discovery comes from a ruin far east of here. The journal of a Noctari mage and his work on a spell for traveling along shadows. Personally, the concept doesn't seem too practical to me as it only allows for instant travel anywhere in a single shadow which is to say, basically a straight line.”

Lyren tilted his head, curious. "You and your strange magic, I assume you already figured out how to recreate it? It'd be more of a surprise if you hadn't." 

I turn to look his way and with a toothy smile, I vanish from sight, reappearing not even a full ten steps away at the end of the tree's shadow. "You know it."

“Of course, I’m working on improving it. If only I can make the spell leap across connected shadows, even the smallest leaf could become a path. Forests like this one would turn into a highway. Imagine that, another kind of teleportation.”

Lyren let out a low whistle. “Impressive as always, dear Caelen. Though if you insist on showing off like that, I’ll need to write a new song to keep up.” 

He continued, "If you wouldn't mind. I'm interested in hearing all about the where this all was and what exactly you'd written. But I do commend that amazing demonstration. If only I could also perform magic the way you do." His voiced trailed wistfully, even though there was truth behind his words, I can tell it was mostly theatrics.

“It was in a ruin east of here,” I began, staring at the cover of the book in my hands. “Nothing remarkable at first, just crumbled homes, and half-buried walls. But tucked beneath a collapsed hearthstone, I found a journal. Noctari script. The cramped kind that blurs into itself if you read too quickly.”

I flipped the book open, not for his sake, but because the pages themselves seemed to demand it. “The author was a mage, or fancied himself one. His obsession? Shadows. He theorized they were more than the absence of light, that each one was a tether between the real and the unseen. He wanted to ride those tethers. Walk along them.”

Lyren raised a brow but said nothing, wisely saving his questions. I pressed on.

“He almost succeeded. His spell allowed him to travel within a single shadow, from end to end. Which is… let’s be honest, unimpressive. A dramatic way to dodge a thrown rock, perhaps, but hardly the revolution he imagined. Still, the attempt matters more than the success. He recorded everything, runes, incantations, even his failures. That kind of honesty is rare in research.”

I snapped the book shut with a faint smile. “Naturally, I adapted it. His groundwork was solid enough. But limiting yourself to a single shadow after inscribing that many runes on the ground? Wasteful. I simplified the casting to allow for a natural activation much akin to how one might dance a flame along their fingers.”

For a moment, I let the thought settle in the air. Then, almost as an afterthought, I added, “Of course, his notes mentioned the dangers too. He wrote of something he called resonance. He described whispers. Shapes that followed him from one end to the other. He dismissed them as hallucinations.” My lips tightened into a thin smile. “I’m not convinced they were.”

A flash of concern made it's way to Lyren, I could see it in his eyes. "You used a spell that dangerous like it was nothing? Are you sure that was wise?"

“Wise enough,” I countered. “The resonance he described only occurs if you linger in a shadow that’s been primed with a rune. I used my own magic, quick and clean. The shadow wasn’t imbued long enough for anything to push back. Think of it like dipping your hand in freezing water. Dangerous if you stay too long, harmless if you’re smart about it.”

His questions came one after another, bright and eager, but my answers grew shorter each time until they were little more than nods. Eventually, he caught on, and the quiet reclaimed us. It was the kind of silence I’d wanted all along, steady, uncomplicated, and shared.

Our walk was peaceful, and I imagine it was more enjoyable than my prior adventures since now I have company but I wasn't so focused on that aspect. My legs were growing tired, and I wanted to settle down for the day but Lyren looked like he wasn't going to have it.

My legs began to drag, the ache creeping into my stride, but Lyren’s energy never faltered. When I slowed, he slowed with me, though his glance said plainly: Really? Daylight’s still with us. 

A carrier bird wheeled overhead, its shadow crossing the road. Signs of settlement. We were close. Close to the warrior Lyren sought, and perhaps to the Lamia’s rumored cave I wanted to see for myself. It felt like the path ahead might soon split between us.

I thought to myself "this can wait until tomorrow, now it's nap time." but the sound of cheering is what I'd reason got Lyren to learn that we were close too. 

"Do you hear that? There's people nearby, and a lot of them. We're here Caelen!" He grabbed hold of my hand and dashed off. I did my best to not drag my feet but I just couldn't keep up. Eventually he picked me up and draped me along his shoulder so that I wasn't slowing him down.

“Seriously? Put me down. I’m not a child for you to haul around anymore.” My voice was filled with defeat, I knew there wasn't anyway he'd let go of me until we got to Riverhelm, even so, I wasn't so upset. At least now we might be able to learn about our interests together. I'm sure the "Wandering Blade" and the Lamia are connected somehow anyway.

He only laughed. “You had your chance to keep up. I’m not leaving you behind now. This is our only option.” Lyren began to pick up pace, and even though we were only a few minutes away, I decided to open back up the book I was writing in back in the tavern. I knew I couldn't write like this but even so, it doesn't hurt to look back on what I know.

Before I knew it, he had placed me back on my feet. I looked around as saw the waysign that said "Welcome to Riverhelm" alongside other markers and directions for different cities and towns beneath in smaller planks. 

Without speaking we both knew were to go, every adventurer does. The infamous tavern of plot convenient NPCs, if other worlds do exist, I already know they're familiar with the same trick too.