We were on our way to the city of Silvestia along a long and winding road. As we trudged along the road to Silvestia, I couldn't help but feel as though our journey would never end. The sun shone brightly overhead and yet, despite its warmth, a chill ran down my spine. My worries were eased with each bend in the path that brought us closer to our destination; my fears were replaced by excitement about what was ahead of us. In spite of the length of the walk, I was grateful for any sign that things would soon be different, that life could return to normal after so much hardship these past months.
My emotions during the past few months have been a roller coaster of confusion. Nothing felt certain, and my aimless wandering around the chantry felt like an apt metaphor for that lostness I was feeling inside. No matter how hard I tried to focus on prayer or meditate on scriptures, all I could think about was satisfying this new insatiable hunger for knowledge and understanding. With each passing day, it seemed harder to reconnect with the divine and find peace amongst its halls. Every day was another challenge as I tried desperately to hold back tears or an outburst of anger. It often seemed like everything was out of my control.
I turned to Anthony, walking beside me on the road to Silvestia. He gazed ahead at the horizon with a far-off look in his eyes, as though he was lost in thought. I couldn't help but feel small beside him, as although he wasn't much older than I, it seemed like all his experiences had aged him beyond my years. Anthony had traveled this stretch of path many times before, the way his eyes seemed to take in every detail in passing, almost like he already knew what was ahead. He seemed so calm, yet guarded too; it was clear he had been on this journey more than once before.
Hey, look!" I exclaimed, pointing into the dark forest on our right. "I think that was a werewolf." I smirked, thinking Anthony might find it funny too.
However, to my surprise, he seemed offended by my joke and I immediately regretted opening my mouth. His eyes stared daggers at me as he spoke in an icy voice. "These beasts rarely leave behind anything recognizable of their victims" he spat out hauntingly. He shook his head in disgust before continuing to walk forward. I saw Anthony's face become dark and clouded with anger.
He began to recount the story of his former master, who had been killed by a werewolf only days before. The beast was relentless and left no survivors from its attack, only the carnage that remained in its wake. Its extraordinary strength and lack of morality made it an especially despicable creature in Anthony's eyes. His hands clenched into fists as he continued to recount the events like he was there witnessing them firsthand, pain clearly visible on his face as each word spilled forth from his lips.
I tried to lighten the mood by telling Anthony about my pixie friends in the garden. They had been helping me with planting earlier and I thought it might lift his spirits. He listened intently as I recounted tales of their magical powers and mischievous personalities, even cracking a smile or two at some of the more comical stories. I had offered them shelter after their homes had burned down and, in exchange, they planted all our plants and seemed to have decreased their growth time exponentially. It was incredible.
His glowering face softened and curiosity was written all over him. "What? How could they help?"he asked skeptically.
Just as we crested a hill, our chatter was cut off abruptly by a loud shriek that pierced the air. We looked up to see a little boy standing waist-deep in a mud pile with tears streaming down his cheeks. We rushed over to him quickly but luckily he was not too deep in the mud, although his distress was evident from the tears streaming down his face. His arm was bleeding profusely, so my companion quickly tendered some first aid supplies from his satchel: salve to clear away any remaining dirt, bandages to wrap up his wound tightly and cloth for cleaning. He thanked us gratefully for our kindness and offered Anthony his lucky stone, which was tied up tightly in a handkerchief. Curious, Anthony accepted it and thanked the young boy graciously in return.
As we reached the crossroads, I looked around for some form of indication as to which direction we should take. Suddenly, my eyes came upon a sign featuring the name 'Silvestia'. At once, I knew that this was our destination and relief filled my heart. Finally, we had arrived at our destination! As ecstatic as Anthony and I were, we both couldn't help feeling a bit wary of what awaited us in Silvestia.
The sun lazily glided over the empty streets and merchant stalls, barely anyone in sight. I could only make out a few merchants manning their humble shops from afar. Approaching one of them, I asked him about Julian, hoping to find some useful information.
Through broken words and gestures, he told us that he was last seen heading into an old abandoned tower north-east of here with his entourage. I stepped forward and met Anthony's gaze, my own resolute though not unkind. A silent communication passed between us, an acknowledgement that what lay ahead may be dangerous but also something special, before he nodded towards the north-east without words or explanation.