Half a month had passed since we left the Graywared estate behind. The road had been long and unyielding, winding through dense forests, open plains, and the occasional narrow mountain pass. The weather shifted unpredictably—warm, golden afternoons giving way to cold, damp nights—but we pressed on, determined to leave our old life as far behind as possible.
During the journey, I used what little mana I had to begin cleansing both Eliot's and my bodies. The process was slow, as my reserves were still pitifully low, but every day brought small improvements. Each spell washed away the impurities that dulled our strength, our stamina, and even our mental acuity.
On the fifteenth day, as we neared the southern crossroads, I checked our progress.
[Status: Marydia Graywared]
Age: 14
HP: 82 / 210 → 121 / 250
Stamina: 56 / 116 → 86 / 140
Mana: 16 / 230 → 45 / 270
Qi: 0 / 120 → 12 / 130
Skills:
Elemental Manipulation Mana Manipulation (Improved) Qi Manipulation (Unlocked) Appraisal
[Status: Eliot Graywared]
Age: 11
HP: 60 / 180 → 97 / 210
Stamina: 40 / 100 → 70 / 130
Mana: 10 / 80 → 25 / 110
Qi: 0 / 0 → 5 / 40
The improvement was tangible. Eliot's complexion had brightened, and he no longer complained of constant fatigue. I, too, felt stronger, my body more responsive, and my spells more effective. The slow but steady progress gave me hope that we would be ready for the challenges ahead.
On the afternoon of the fifteenth day, the carriage rolled into a small, picturesque town nestled at the base of a rolling hill. A wooden sign near the road read:
Welcome to Stillwater
The town was quaint, with cobblestone streets and timber-framed houses adorned with flower boxes. A gentle river wound through the town, its waters glinting under the sun, while the faint hum of activity filled the air—merchants calling out prices, children laughing, and the rhythmic clatter of horses' hooves on stone.
"We made it," I said, leaning back against the carriage seat.
"Finally!" Eliot exclaimed, peering out the window with wide eyes. "It's so much prettier than I thought it would be."
The carriage came to a stop in front of a modest inn called The Lily's Rest. Its sign, painted with a blooming white lily, swung gently in the breeze.
The coachman climbed down from his perch and tipped his hat. "This'll be the end of the line for me, Miss Graywared," he said. "I'll be heading back to the manor now unless you have other instructions."
I stepped out of the carriage, smoothing my dress as I regarded the man. He had served his purpose faithfully, but I had no intention of keeping him around. "You've done well," I said, handing him a small pouch of coins as a bonus. "We'll be renting a wagon from here, so you're free to return to the manor."
The coachman nodded, his face neutral as he accepted the payment. "It'll take me about two weeks to get back, Miss. Safe travels to you and the boy."
He climbed back onto the carriage and urged the horses forward. Eliot and I watched as he disappeared down the main road, the sound of wheels on stone fading into the distance.
"Do you think Father will be angry when he finds out we sent him back?" Eliot asked, his voice tinged with nervousness.
I smiled faintly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "It doesn't matter what Father thinks anymore. This is our life now."
Eliot seemed to relax at my words, nodding as he adjusted the small satchel slung over his shoulder.
"Come on," I said, leading him toward the inn. "Let's get a room and some food. We'll stay here for a few days to rest and prepare before we move on."
The innkeeper, a cheerful woman with a round face and graying hair, greeted us warmly as we entered. After paying for a modest room on the second floor, we settled in, the simple comforts of a warm bed and fresh bread already lifting our spirits.
Here's a continuation detailing Marydia and Eliot's time in Stillwater, written in the same style as earlier chapters:
The next few days in Stillwater passed in a haze of quiet respite and cautious preparation. For the first time since leaving the estate, we were able to relax—though I never let my guard down completely.
Our rented room at The Lily's Rest was simple but comfortable, with two narrow beds pushed against opposite walls and a small window that overlooked the bustling main street. Each morning, sunlight spilled in through the wooden shutters, filling the room with a golden warmth that felt foreign after so many cold nights on the road.
Eliot took to the town with an enthusiasm that was both heartwarming and bittersweet. He wandered the cobblestone streets with wide-eyed wonder, marveling at the blacksmith's roaring forge, the colorful stalls in the marketplace, and the children playing by the riverbank.
I watched him closely as we explored, a pang of guilt settling in my chest every time he laughed or smiled. He deserved this—deserved a childhood free from the shadows of the life we'd left behind. But I knew better than to believe it would last.
The Marketplace
On the second morning, we visited Stillwater's bustling marketplace. Stalls lined the town square, their awnings flapping in the breeze as merchants called out their wares. The air was thick with the mingling scents of fresh bread, ripe fruit, and cured meats.
Eliot darted from stall to stall, his excitement contagious as he examined everything from brightly dyed fabrics to tiny wooden figurines.
"Look at this!" he exclaimed, holding up a carved fox with intricate fur details. "It's so cool, right?"
I smiled faintly, handing a few coppers to the merchant before Eliot could protest. "Consider it a souvenir," I said.
His face lit up, and he clutched the fox to his chest as though it were a priceless treasure.
As he wandered ahead, I lingered near a stall selling mana-infused herbs. The merchant, a wiry man with a sharp nose and a knowing smile, eyed me curiously.
"You've got an eye for quality," he said as I inspected a bundle of dried calnroot. "Not many people around here know what that's worth."
"I know enough," I replied, slipping a few coins into his hand. The calnroot would be useful for crafting basic mana potions—a necessity, given my pitiful reserves.
The merchant leaned closer as I turned to leave. "Word of advice, miss. If you're looking to stock up, talk to old Moira. She runs the apothecary near the river. Best supplies in town—if you've got the coin."
I thanked him with a nod and made a mental note to visit Moira's shop later.
The Riverbank
That afternoon, Eliot convinced me to take a break from my preparations and join him by the riverbank. The water was crystal clear, reflecting the blue sky above, and the gentle sound of the current was soothing.
Eliot skipped stones across the surface, his laughter ringing out every time he managed a particularly good throw. I sat nearby, my hands idly tracing patterns in the grass as I watched him.
"You should try it!" he called out, holding up a smooth, flat stone.
I shook my head, a faint smile tugging at my lips. "I'll leave the stone skipping to you."
He shrugged and tossed the stone, watching as it bounced three times before sinking. Then he turned to me, his expression growing serious.
"Do you think we'll be okay?" he asked quietly, his voice barely audible over the sound of the river.
I met his gaze, the weight of his question settling heavily in my chest. "We'll be fine," I said firmly. "As long as we stick together, we'll make it through anything."
He nodded, his eyes searching mine for reassurance. "You promise?"
"I promise," I said, my voice steady despite the doubts that lingered in the back of my mind.
The Apothecary
Later that evening, I visited the apothecary the merchant had mentioned. The shop was tucked away at the edge of town, a small, unassuming building with a sign that read
Inside, the air was thick with the scent of herbs and incense. Shelves lined the walls, filled with jars of dried plants, vials of colorful liquids, and bundles of strange, twisting roots.
An older woman stood behind the counter, her sharp eyes glinting beneath a mane of silver hair. "You must be Moira," I said, stepping forward.
"And you must be looking for something," she replied, her voice low and gravelly. "What is it you need?"
I hesitated for a moment before pulling out a small pouch of coins. "Calnroot, starflower, and fireleaf," I said. "Enough to brew a dozen mana potions."
Her eyebrows rose slightly. "Not a common request around here. You a traveling mage?"
"Something like that," I said evasively.
She studied me for a long moment before nodding. "Wait here."
Moira disappeared into a back room, returning a few minutes later with a bundle of carefully wrapped herbs. "This should do it," she said, setting the bundle on the counter. "Forty silver."
I handed over the coins without hesitation. As I turned to leave, she called after me.
"Careful on the road, girl. The world's not as kind as Stillwater."
"I know," I said, pausing briefly at the door. "But I'll manage."
The Marketplace
The marketplace was the heart of Stillwater, alive with a vibrant hum of voices, the clinking of coins, and the scent of freshly baked bread mingling with earthy spices. Eliot tugged at my hand, his small fingers nearly bouncing with excitement.
"Look at that!" he exclaimed, pointing to a booth where a merchant sold painted bird figurines. "And that!" His eyes darted to a man demonstrating an enchanted toy—a spinning top that emitted tiny sparks of light as it spun.
I couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm, even as I kept a wary eye on the crowd. Crowded places were ripe for pickpockets and opportunists, though I doubted Stillwater was home to anyone truly dangerous.
A shout pulled my attention to a stall where a burly butcher waved his cleaver in the air. "Fresh cuts! Get your roast mutton here!" he bellowed, a grin splitting his weathered face. Beside him, his daughter handed out samples of cured sausage to curious passersby. Eliot eagerly reached out for a piece, and I gave the butcher a few copper coins in exchange for a small package of meat.
Nearby, an elderly woman at a fabric stall caught my attention. She was carefully folding bolts of fabric in deep blues and purples, her movements precise despite her gnarled hands. I ran my fingers over a length of soft linen, imagining the simple garments I could make from it.
"You've got good taste," the woman said with a knowing smile. "That one's strong enough to last through years of wear. Four silver for the lot."
I hesitated, weighing the cost against our limited funds. Before I could decide, Eliot piped up. "You should get it! You always say good clothes are important, right?"
I laughed softly and handed over the silver. "You're right," I said. "It's an investment."
The Riverbank
The riverbank became a favorite spot for us during our stay in Stillwater. Its gentle current and the cheerful chirping of birds made it an oasis of calm amid the town's bustling energy.
One afternoon, as Eliot played by the water's edge, I found myself drawn to a group of townsfolk gathered near a shallow part of the river. A few men were casting nets into the water while children splashed nearby, their laughter ringing through the air.
"Care to try your hand at fishing, Miss?" one of the men called out, his broad grin framed by a bushy red beard.
I hesitated, then shook my head with a polite smile. "I think I'll leave that to the experts."
"Suit yourself," he replied with a shrug, hauling his net back with a practiced motion.
Eliot, of course, was fascinated. He watched the fishermen intently, his eyes lighting up every time they pulled a wriggling fish from the river. One of the children noticed him and approached with a friendly wave.
"Hi! Want to help us?" she asked, holding out a small net.
Eliot glanced at me for permission, and I nodded. "Go on," I said.
He spent the next hour splashing in the shallows with the other children, his laughter ringing out as they worked together to catch tiny fish. I stayed on the shore, content to watch him and soak in the rare moment of peace.
The Blacksmith's Forge
On the third day, we visited the blacksmith's forge—a sturdy stone building at the edge of town, its walls darkened by years of soot. The rhythmic clang of hammer on metal greeted us as we approached, accompanied by the acrid scent of molten iron.
A young blacksmith, his muscular frame glistening with sweat, was hard at work shaping a glowing blade. He glanced up as we entered, wiping his brow with the back of his hand.
"Looking for something specific?" he asked, his voice gruff but not unkind.
"I was hoping to buy a small dagger," I said. "Something simple but reliable."
He nodded and gestured toward a rack of weapons displayed along the wall. "Take your pick."
As I examined the blades, Eliot wandered over to a set of decorative shields propped against the forge's outer wall. One in particular caught his eye—a small, round shield painted with the image of a wolf.
"Can I get this?" he asked, turning to me with a hopeful expression.
I hesitated, then sighed. "We'll see."
After selecting a dagger with a sturdy leather grip, I paid the blacksmith and turned back to Eliot. "Alright, let's look at the shield."
The blacksmith chuckled. "Tell you what," he said. "If the boy can hold it steady, he can have it for half price."
Eliot beamed as he picked up the shield, his small arms straining to keep it level. Though the shield was clearly too large for him, his determination was admirable.
"Alright, alright," the blacksmith said with a laugh. "Half price it is."
Moira's Apothecary
On our final day in Stillwater, I returned to Moira's shop to stock up on supplies. Eliot came with me this time, his curiosity evident as he examined the rows of jars and bundles lining the shelves.
"What's this one?" he asked, pointing to a jar of dried leaves labeled shadowthorn.
Moira glanced over and smirked. "That's a nasty one," she said. "Useful in small doses, deadly in large ones. You won't be needing that."
Eliot's eyes widened, and he quickly stepped away from the shelf.
I chuckled softly and turned to Moira. "Do you have anything that might help with stamina or healing?"
She nodded, pulling down a jar filled with small red berries. "Bloodroot. Brew it into a tea, and it'll keep you on your feet longer. Five silver for the lot."
I handed over the coins and added the bloodroot to my growing collection of herbs.
As we left the shop, Moira called out after us. "Stay safe out there, girl. And keep an eye on that boy."
"I will," I promised, waving as we stepped back into the sunlit street.
By the time we packed the wagon and prepared to leave, I felt a strange mix of gratitude and melancholy. Stillwater had been a sanctuary, a brief reprieve from the harshness of the road. But our journey wasn't over.
As we rolled out of town, Eliot leaned out of the wagon, waving to the friends he'd made along the way. I watched him, my heart heavy with the knowledge that this life—the life he deserved—wasn't yet ours to claim.
But it would be.
Someday, I would make it so.