Chapter 4 – The Road North

1
The sun rose behind us like it had slept better than we had. The road ahead was a ribbon of mud glittering with last night’s rain. I should’ve gone back to the guild, collected pay, and acted like a man who had his life together.

Instead, I followed a dream, a storm, and a woman who’d accidentally partnered with me in a cave.

Flawless planning.

“Shouldn’t we maybe report the job done?” I asked. “You know—basic adulthood?”

“Basic adulthood is what got you funding a bakery, not an adventure,” Ryn said.

“Hey, someone has to stop Mum from trading bread for gossip again.”

“That’s a terrible barter rate.”

“Tell that to the town. Gossip now comes with free butter.”

Ryn smirked. “Adulthood’s overrated anyway. Besides, you promised a mysterious woman in your dreams you’d save her. That’s a better story.”

“I’m not sure my mum will agree.”

“She’ll forgive you. You brought home… a competent teammate, didn’t you?”

“Technically yes. Accidentally yes. Mentally I’m still catching up.”

“It’s fine. I’ll handle the interviews when we visit your family bakery.”

“Please don’t. My mum will bake you into the staff schedule.”

2
The trail threaded into the hills until the grass thinned and the wind got ambitious. My socks were already wet. Again. This journey clearly had a personal grudge against dryness.

Ryn hovered a few inches above the mud, smugly unbothered.
“Cheating,” I muttered.
“Tactical altitude,” she corrected. “You could try sprouting wings.”

I exhaled, focused, and pushed mana into my feet. A tight swirl of wind lifted me just enough to skim above the muck — light, balanced, almost graceful.

Ryn blinked. “…Show-off.”

“Tactical altitude,” I echoed. “Cheaper than wings.”

She crossed her arms, floating higher out of spite. “You’re annoying.”
“Thank you. I train for it.”

Every dozen steps, that quiet tug under my ribs pointed north—gentle, certain. The Shine didn’t buzz; it suggested.

Ryn matched my pace easily, cloak snapping behind her. “That feeling again?”

“Yeah. Like the dream stuck an arrow in my gut and said ‘that way.’”

“Dreams make excellent maps,” she said. “As long as you don’t mind the screaming and fire.”

“I prefer maps with fewer existential metaphors.”

“You chose the hero package. No refunds.”

3
By noon we topped a ridge. Valleys curled like sleeping beasts; rivers flashed silver in the light. The wind smelled like rain and something sharper—magic, awake and listening.

Ryn shaded her eyes toward a jagged swath of cliff. “There. That ridge line. That’s where the old runes start.”

I followed her gaze. A faint pulse shimmered in the stone seam—steady as a heartbeat.

“Guess it’s time,” I said.

“Guess so,” she said, rolling her shoulders. “Option A: we climb for three hours and arrive sweaty and unromantic.”

I squinted. “You’re not seriously suggesting—”

“Oh, I am.”

“Ryn, I’m a man. I have dignity.”

She stepped close, eyes glinting. “Not for long.”

4
Before I could protest, she scooped me up—stronger than she looked—and leapt.

“Isn’t this supposed to go the other way?!”

“You can try when we land!” she yelled as the wind tore past.

“I can see my house from here!”

“That’s a rock!”

“Then why is it judging me?!”

Clouds opened around us; the valley dropped away in dizzying silver. My stomach filed a complaint. My heart signed it.

“All right!” I shouted. “This is cheating and I approve!”

Ryn grinned, wings cutting clean arcs through mist. “Heroes who don’t take shortcuts are just trying to rack up hazard pay.”

“I knew you had a philosophy under all that chaos.”

“It’s laminated,” she said proudly.

“Fantastic—”

“Brace!”

“I’M ALREADY BRACED!”

5
We hit the ledge with a jolt that knocked the strength out of my spine, but nothing vital protested for long.

Ryn set me down, wings folding like she’d just taken a brisk stroll. “See? Smooth.”

“You dropped me like a sack of flour.”

“A handsome sack of flour,” she corrected.

“My bones are filing a formal complaint.”

“Optimization complete. You’re welcome.”

6
The ledge widened into a carved plateau. A broken arch leaned against the cliff face, veins of rune-lines running through the stone like frost. Chains of light spiraled across the sealed seam—precise, deliberate, unfrayed.

Ryn’s mischief faded to focus. “That’s not decay. That’s craftsmanship. Someone sealed this with intention.”

The tug under my ribs tightened. Whatever hid behind that wall had heard us arrive.

I stepped closer. The air thickened—no malice, just attention.

“Your dream spot,” Ryn murmured. “You ready?”

“No,” I said honestly. “But I’m here anyway.”

I laid my palm to the rune. It thrummed—not hot or cold, just aware, like pressing a hand to a heartbeat through stone.

A voice drifted out, soft, disbelieving:

“Am I dreaming again… or has someone finally found me?”

We froze.

Ryn’s tail curled once, tight. “That’s her.”

“Yeah,” I breathed. “The chained girl.”

Ryn glanced at me, expression gentling. “You really meant to find her.”

“Would’ve felt wrong to ignore her.”

She smiled, small and dangerous. “You are disastrously sincere.”

“Occupational hazard. Bakery bloodline.”

She exhaled. “All right then, Dreambound hero. Let’s hear the door out.”

“I’m never living that nickname down, am I?”

“Not if it keeps you moving.”

7
The arch’s light lifted, like a held breath. Wind curled in a slow circle at our feet.

Ryn shifted beside me until our shoulders brushed. “Last chance to be boring and turn back.”

“If I die,” I said, “tell Mum I still owe her two bread deliveries.”

“If you die,” she said, “I’m telling her you tried to headbutt a historical landmark.”

“That’s worse.”

“Exactly.”

The stone gave a low, resonant hum—not opening, but listening.

We stepped forward together—two idiots with a shared map only they could feel, a listening wall, and a day that had decided to get interesting. The Shine thrummed once, quiet and steady.

“Okay,” I whispered to the runes. “We heard you. We’re coming.”

And the mountain, patient and old, seemed to nod.