Whsipers Through the Bough

THE THREE followed the King’s Path down the mountain, which connected to the King’s Pawn’s Path—the main route to the ground.

“So where are we headed now?” asked Aisling, curiosity threading through her words.

“The Rudbeckia Apothecary,” Lucien answered, just as upbeat as her. “We need to restock on potions and pills.”

“Potions and pills,” Aisling repeated. “Oh! Is there a potion that recovers memory?”

“I think there’s a memory enhancing potion, but we’d have to ask Henrietta when we see her.”

“A friend of yours?”

The Knight couldn’t suppress a sheepish grin, responding with a drawn-out fondness, “Yeah…”

Sirius chuckled, adding, “I think you’ll like her, Aisling.”

They continued their descent of the King’s Path in quiet ease, the rustle of leaves and the vast silence of the mountainside guiding them deeper into the heart of the forest.

The Lachian Mountains consisted of eight paths—the Noble Routes—that stretched across the northern edge of the world.

The entire range spanned Quadcore Trivareth and small parts of Valorune and Crystara. And in front of the Noble Routes were nine paths—collectively the Pawn’s Paths. These Common Routes also spanned the edges of the three quadcores.

“So, the Lachian Mountains, Quadcore Trivareth, Throne’s Edge…” Aisling listed, trying to understand the layout of the world. “You guys did a lot of traveling. What’s it all for?”

“We have an arrangement with the king…” Lucien answered ambiguously, as some parts of the stone-layered path crumbled underfoot. “God-King Dajayatan said that if we completed his mission, we’d be redeemed and we’d get the answers we wanted.”

“But that didn’t mean we’d get the answers we needed,” Sirius added cynically. “Every time we reported our findings, he gave us a vague explanation that only led to another set of clues... Redemption just seems like another lost cause.”

Aisling frowned. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. This god-king doesn’t sound too helpful…” she muttered. “For someone so powerful, you’d think there’d be direction and clarity, even in subtle ways. It must be frustrating.”

The young men quietly nodded.

“And exhausting,” Lucien added. “But doing his bidding is the only way we can uncover the nature of who we are.”

“I refuse to accept that we’ve been forsaken,” Sirius declared, his brow furrowed.

Aisling’s gaze lingered on her hands, the black Pawns seeming darker against the light of day. “We’re… forsaken?” she grimly murmured, tracing one thumb across it, as if the touch might stir some hidden truth beneath her skin.

“Yeah,” he darkly replied.

“But… why? Did we do something wrong?”

He shook his head. “That’s what we’ve been trying to find out for the past six years.”

She lowered her head. “I’m sorry…” she muttered. “Finding me must’ve added more to your burden…”

Sirius quickly glanced at her, a glint in his eye as he assured her, “On the contrary. Finding you might finally be a step in the right direction.”

She met his gaze. “Really?”

He nodded. “You also have the black marks, Aisling. So I was thinking that whatever happened before you lost your memories is something that’ll help give all of us clarity.”

Aisling looked at her Pawns, uttering, “Hey, you’re right! If I can recover my memories, then everything should make sense… So… how do we do that?”

“The Rudbeckia Apothecary.”

“Oh, of course–! Wait…” She thought it over, then looked at Lucien. “Didn’t you just say there wasn’t a potion that recovers memory?”

“I did,” he answered, then glanced at his friend. “What are you thinking, Sirius?”

“We can ask Master Rysa. Even if there’s not a potion, there could be some kind of treatment that deals with this. Or something written in the Codex.”

He stroked his beard. “Hm, yeah. Yeah, that makes sense!”

“Yeah, that sounds good to me too,” Aisling chimed in. “The apothecary people sound knowledgeable.”

The forest deepened around the trio, its canopy weaving a patchwork of shifting light and shadow over the path. The air carried the cool scent of pine and old stone, and the rhythm of their footsteps filled the quiet between birdsong and rustling leaves. When the sun was at its highest point in the sky, the trio decided to take a break. They began clearing loose roots, grass, and moss overtaking the rough steps to sit on. A light scent of sweet, earthy almonds in the air caressed their noses.

“I think we’re making good time,” said Sirius, glancing at his watch, and then unrolling the map from a pouch on his belt.

Aisling drew close to see what Chesslandiya looked like, and noticed it was only the topographical map of the Lachian Mountains.

Specifically, it was the route of King’s Path to Pawn’s Path that had some handwritten notes and short descriptions of hazards, routes to avoid, and landmarks to look out for.

“You drew that?” she asked the Bishop

He answered, “The main part of it was given to us, and we just added notes as we went.”

Sirius and Lucien continued reviewing their route, concluding that by the time they were ready to set up camp for the night, they’d be by a stream—the border of King’s Path and King’s Pawn’s Path where a crowned spire loomed.

“The closer we get to it the better,” the latter added. “We’re running low on water too.”

“And it’d be nice to take a bath,” chimed Aisling off to the side.

Lucien raised a brow, half-grinning. “Can’t argue with that,” he said, as Sirius chuckled beside him. “Guess that settles our priorities, then.”

Aisling laughed quietly, tucking a loose strand of hair beneath her veil, her witty remarks occasionally easing the tensions felt throughout the day.

The forest hummed softly around them as they ate rations consisting of jerky, nuts, and vitaline bites, which were small and nutritious pastries used to help satiate hunger for an extended period.

“How are your feet holding up, by the way, Aisling?” Lucien inquired before biting some jerky.

“Oh, it’s not that bad actually.” She kicked her feet as they extended over some steps. “The socks are warm, padded enough, and comfortable so far. I can walk for as long as we need to.”

He nodded. “We’ll definitely get you some real boots soon.”

“Hopefully before it rains,” added Sirius, looking up after noticing the sunshine was no longer seeping through the leaves. “It doesn’t seem like it would, but weather patterns can change drastically, especially when soul feeders are near.”

Aisling pursed her lips, a silent uneasiness welling up inside of her. She didn’t let it make her feel any more fearful of these anomalies as she proceeded to question what exactly they were.

Sirius and Lucien exchanged glances with one another.

“We grew up being told that soul feeders were physical manifestations of sin or the dark intents of people’s hearts,” explained Sirius. “But with waves of them entering more frequently in the last six years, that argument doesn’t seem to hold up anymore. Not since the Rexordo Voxarion—the religious enforcers of God-King Dajayatan’s ministry—had been dispatched in droves.”

“That said, people’s faith and confidence in the god-king should be increasing, not diminishing,” inputted Lucien.

Aisling placed a hand on her chin. “If there’s no correlation, what do you think the soul feeders are?”

Sirius clenched his jaw while looking down at his black Bishop mark. “Forsaken ones,” he muttered.

The air hushed and the swaying leaves silenced at the mere mention of the phrase.

“In our travels, we encountered vague depictions of what appeared to be soul feeders,” he continued. “Didn’t read much into it at first—just assuming soul feeders were persistently terrorizing Chesslandiya—until we discovered the altar.”

Lucien quickly shifted his gaze to him; this clearly being news to him.

Aisling raised her eyebrows. “Wh-What did you find?”

Sirius sighed heavily, reiterating the phrase the whispered through the boughs around the trio. “Forsaken ones.” He met each of their eyes. “‘A world in decline and desperate to survive,’ is what I could string together from the mural. I’m still trying to put it all together, but the logic seems to escape me if I investigate it too much.”

“What do you mean?” Lucien asked.

He shook his head, his hand clutching his hair. “I don’t know. It feels like I’m unable to read more about it suddenly.”

“Perhaps I could look at it?” Aisling suggested. “It’s the least I could do.”

He wasn’t opposed to it, but Sirius decided they would look at it together later. “We better reach our rendezvous point first.”

Their descent continued. By the time they reached the crowned spire, it was sunset.

The upper half of the monument that once challenged the height of the trees has dwarfed since the King’s Descent. The remnants of its gilded crown still caught the waning light, glinting faintly like fractured stars. Ivy wrapped around its body in thick greenery, and the stones, once white, had faded to a dull gray from centuries of rain, snow, and neglect. Around the base lay the bones of a small plaza.

Toppled statues, moss-choked benches, and the faint traces of what was once a reflecting pool were scattered throughout. Nature had reclaimed the ruin almost entirely, yet there was an undeniable presence in the air, as though the mountain itself remembered what the Primorigial Sanctuary had been.

Sirius was prepared to explain the purpose of this ruin to a curious Aisling, who stared agape at the impressive height of the spire, but thought better of it. He’d wait until the morning where everything was more visible. ‘Unlike Lucien, she can actually read the script, so she’ll be able to discover it on her own,’ he mused.

The trio used the light from an orb cast by Sirius’s spell to set up camp in the plaza.

A short distance from the spire, a narrow stream threaded through the roots and stones. Its steady murmur guided them to where they knelt to refill several canteens with the cool, clear water.

The young men respectfully excused themselves to give Aisling some privacy while she bathed in the stream, then they took turns bathing themselves.

Sirius enchanted the area with a protection ward by walking counterclockwise around the area, his tome floating and glowing amber in front of him. The second time he made the circuit, an amber-colored barrier started forming from the path he took.

Aisling monitored the pot of water over the fire as Lucien was finishing his wash. She occasionally glanced at Sirius while he was casting the spell. Her chin rested in the palms of her hands as she sat on a log.

Lucien later stepped out of his tent, his long hair loose for once. He was dressed in a light gray sleeveless undershirt that traced his chiseled frame and a fresh pair of black trousers. As he caught the way Aisling’s eyes lingered on Sirius, he slowed, placing a hand on his chin. ‘She seems very interested in him,’ he thought. ‘I don’t know what her intent is, but I’m sure he’ll see through it.’ He cleared his hair over his shoulder with a quiet exhale, as he recalled a thought he kept to himself. ‘It’s been six years since that day. By now I hope he’s over her…’