North...
The cave seemed alive, enveloped in a supernatural atmosphere and steeped in ancient, dense magic. The air inside was damp, carrying an earthy scent mixed with the scent of roots that curled across the floor and ceiling like serpents, exuding a forgotten power. These roots intertwined tightly, connecting to the very essence of the earth. At the center of the cave, an old man with white hair was immobilized, his body fused with a massive tree as if he were part of it. Thick, gnarled roots extended through his flesh, piercing his skin and intertwining with his bones, almost like veins. The tree's trunk stood as a throne of living wood, its few leaves sighing in rhythm with the cave, as though it breathed with him.
The Three-Eyed Raven
The faint light entering through the cave's only opening was diffuse, filtered through layers of moss and foliage, casting shadows on the stone walls. The delicate glow of bioluminescent fungi added a unique touch to the scene, emitting an ethereal blue-green light. It was a space where time seemed distorted, slow and endless.
— How can you not see it? — A delicate voice interrupted the prolonged silence, echoing off the stone walls like a whisper filled with surprise. There was a hint of skepticism, almost irritation, in her tone, as though faced with an unimaginable situation.
Leaf, one of the Children of the Forest, leaned against the cave's rocky walls. Her diminutive figure initially appeared fragile, but on closer inspection, her aura radiated an enigmatic, untamable strength. Her skin was thin and grayish, threaded with brown and green veins that glowed faintly, as if the power of the trees coursed through her. Her golden, deep, feline-like eyes held the wisdom of ancient eras, far beyond the time of men. Her long hair, adorned with leaves and moss, cascaded partially over her shoulders in shades of gold and brown, complementing her large, pointed ears. She was clothed in garments made of leaves, vines, and bark, everything the forest had to offer, and her small frame seemed one with the environment around her.
The old man sighed heavily, his voice low and deep, yet laden with the weight of centuries.
— Yes... I can no longer see. Something has changed or someone. It is strange, very strange... — There was a touch of confusion, a veiled anguish in his words, rare for him. His eyes, opaque and profound like those of a being who had witnessed entire eras pass, were fixed on the void. His immobilized body seemed to wrestle against the very roots that bound him.
Leaf moved away from the wall, stepping forward. The dim light of the cave illuminated the rustic contours of her face, but her expression was firm, anxious.
— This wasn't supposed to happen! What do we do now? — Her eyes sparkled, reflecting a rare uncertainty. She regarded the old man as if awaiting answers only he could provide, though she suspected, deep down, that he too might be lost.
He let his head droop for a moment, as though each word cost him tremendous effort amidst the entangling branches.
— I don't know, little Leaf... I don't know. Something has changed everything. — His voice, once as firm as a tree trunk, now sounded fragile. He thought of using one of his ravens' eyes to see beyond, but something held him back. A latent fear. A sense that the unknown was now impenetrable.
Leaf tilted her head, thoughtful.
— Is it like before? — She asked in a quieter tone, almost as if sharing a secret. — When we felt that magic... something unlike anything we've ever seen or known? — There was an echo of ancient memories in her words, of a time long past.
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he gazed into nothingness, as if trying to reach something beyond his grasp, or better, beyond his sight.
Leaf continued:
— It could be dangerous... an ally, or another enemy? — Her voice was raw, the ancestral wisdom in her golden eyes wavering between uncertainty and concern.
Then, with a look entirely lost between her and the void, he pondered aloud, his deep sigh resonating with his unease.
— I fear it might be neither... — He declared, with a truth none of them were prepared to face.
The cave returned to its uneasy silence, as the roots continued to exude their mysterious magic, as though nature itself awaited, watchful, for what was yet to come.
***
When he slowly opened his eyes, a soft light filtering through the window made him blink a few times. His senses returned and he felt the heat of the sun on his face, a painful contrast to the wounds spread across his body. The bed, although soft, did little to alleviate the pain, this is a consequence of your battle. Every movement was a challenge, as if even breathing required more effort than usual.
In the background, the space buzzed with the sound of children's laughter and the crackling of burning wood somewhere in the house. Amidst his confusion and discomfort, a firm, exasperated female voice tried to impose order on the chaos.
Eigan scratched the back of his neck, trying to make sense of the situation. "Where am I?" he thought, a shiver running down his spine. He glanced down at his body, covered in colorful, loosely tied bandages, as if a child had attempted to help. If not for the sharp pain, he might have laughed at the sight.
As he tried to piece things together, a child appeared at the doorway, their curious eyes scanning him before running off down the hallway, shouting something in a foreign language. The echo of the child's voice faded into the house, deepening his confusion.
Moments later, a man entered the room, his nervous expression briefly lighting up with a wide smile.
— You... — He paused, as if needing to catch his breath. — You've finally woken up! I thought you'd never open your eyes again!!
Eigan raised his eyebrows, still stunned. Pain throbbed in his head and he had to take deep breaths, trying to process everything. His last memory was of battle, exhaustion and loss of consciousness. Now he was in an unfamiliar place, although at least it didn't seem dangerous.
— Humn... Where... — He began, but his voice came out hoarse and strained, as though he hadn't spoken in days. He cleared his throat, trying to gather strength. — W-where am I, and who are you?
Xhalor straightened up, crossing his arms, as if realizing Eigan was confused or didn't remember the brief conversation they'd had before.
— You're safe... for now. My name is Xhalor. I'm a merchant! I was there.. I even helped you. — He said, glancing quickly at the bandages wrapped around the young man's body before shaking his head with a faint laugh. — The kids tried to help. It may not be the cleanest job, but it was the best my family and I could manage on short notice.
He took a step forward as if to adjust something on the bandages but stopped midway.
Eigan rested a hand on his head, recalling something faintly. Though the merchant's help still puzzled him, he tried to move, but the pain prevented him from making any real effort. He looked back at Xhalor, noticing the seriousness in the man's eyes. Something weighed heavily on his mind, but whatever it was, Eigan couldn't deal with it until he fully understood where he was and what had happened after the battle.
— For now... — Eigan muttered to himself as he stared at the door. He knew his rest would be short-lived, no matter where he was.
He leaned forward slightly, his body fragile from the injuries. Xhalor hesitated, nervous, knowing that the seemingly vulnerable young man in front of him was far from ordinary.
— Careful! Your wounds... — Xhalor uttered, worried that Eigan's effort might reopen the cuts.
Eigan's attention shifted between the open door and Xhalor, his gaze intense and piercing.
— R-...? Is she here? — The voice wavered between confusion and concern, desperate for an answer.
Xhalor sighed, the weight of Kaled's death wrapping around him like a shroud. He nodded slowly, the truth heavy on his shoulders.
— Yes, I brought her here too. She woke up before you, but I wouldn't say she was excited to be alive... You understand, don't you? — The merchant closed his eyes briefly to block out the echoes of screams and blood. When they opened them, he noticed Eigan's expression soften, relieved by the answer.
Before either could say more, a piercing howl broke the quiet. The sound of children's quick footsteps echoed down the hallway, and a dark shadow burst into the room, racing toward the bed. Xhalor stepped back, his heart skipping a beat as he noticed the small wolf pup darting toward Eigan, followed by three breathless children: two girls and a boy who was the spitting image of the merchant.
The wolf cub jumped onto the bed, landing on the young man's lap and licking his face enthusiastically. Eigan smiled, running his hand over the pup's soft fur.
— It's good to see you, Shadow. You were worried, weren't you? — His tone was gentle, almost like a brother's.
The children, disappointed at being left behind in the doorway, watched as the pup left its playful antics to snuggle close to Eigan. Xhalor motioned subtly for them to leave, a faint smile on his face. And as the simple gesture was enough, the children nodded quickly, leaving with their heads bowed, with a slight sigh, closed the door.
— My kids were fascinated by your furry friend. My wife nearly strangled me over him, and... he has quite the appetite for meat. — Xhalor remarked, leaning slightly against the bed with a touch of humor. — I was shocked when I saw this beast coming towards us. I can proudly say... it took all my courage to face him!
He smiled inwardly. The truth was very different and they both seemed to know it. Xhalor had been terrified when he first saw the furry creature emerging from the underbrush. Without hesitation, he had left the boy's body behind and hid among the trees, letting fear consume him. Only when he realized it was a small wolf protecting the boy did his fear shift to something new.
— But when I saw him sniffing at you with such concern, I remembered what Kaled told me... 'The beast tamer,' right? — He let out a short laugh, trying to lighten the mood. The sound reverberated through the room but quickly faded when Xhalor caught Eigan's gaze.
The merchant swallowed hard, averting his eyes before continuing.
— I'm sorry. I... I couldn't do much. N-nothing, really... — His voice faltered. — I buried his body and the others with the help of friends... — He hesitated, the words heavy. — I couldn't wait any longer. The beasts in the forest... — He shuddered, thinking of nature's merciless brutality, which spared not even the dead.
Eigan raised a hand, cutting him off.
— Don't worry. — He said, his voice firm yet gentle. — Kaled would have done the same. He wouldn't want to be a snack for the beasts, right?
He tried to force a laugh, a brief sound that couldn't hide his discomfort.
Xhalor nodded, unsettled by how easily Eigan accepted it but grateful for the words. The silence that followed was heavy but not suffocating. The wolf's sorrowful howl seemed now like a message carried on the wind.
Moments later...
Eigan sat on the edge of the bed, his weight sinking into the soft mattress as his mind raced with restless thoughts. His fingers brushed against the worn wood of the headboard, as if seeking an anchor in this unfamiliar place.
From somewhere in the house, likely near the storage room, Xhalor, the ever-diligent merchant, busied himself with his "new merchandise," as he called it with a slightly mischievous, almost triumphant smile. Eigan noticed that Xhalor seemed unsure of how to handle him. There was a mix of growing curiosity and an underlying fear etched on the merchant's face.
Between brief pauses and hurried explanations, Xhalor recounted what had happened after Eigan's collapse. The merchant started with his reasons for being there, though Eigan hadn't asked for them. "Business is the soul of survival," he said with the typical flair of a tradesman.
Xhalor often traded with forest dwellers, exchanging fresh game, caught in countless hunts, for fabrics, clothing, and essential tools for their harsh lives. For him, this arrangement was far more profitable than dealing with the filth and intrigues of the world he had left behind. Yet, Eigan had a sense that Xhalor hadn't told him the full story.
With meticulous detail, Xhalor described how he always left his wagon and horses hidden in a secure spot, far from prying eyes or potential threats to his trades. "In the forest," he remarked with a cunning glint in his eyes, "even the branches can be dangerous, boy."
Despite his words, Xhalor carefully avoided revealing his exact location. His explanations were wrapped in vague riddles, as if he took some perverse pleasure in watching Eigan's confusion. The subtle smile playing at the corners of the merchant's lips did not escape the boy's sharp gaze.
Eigan, however, refused to be drawn into the merchant's games. His patience, at that moment, was as deep and serene as an untouched lake, though beneath the surface, a faint curiosity stirred. His instincts, now sharper than ever, screamed for action.
But for now, he chose to wait. To observe, sense, and understand. Only then would he decide on his next move.
Generously, Xhalor provided clean, albeit oversized, clothing, which Eigan quickly donned, hiding the bandages wrapped around his body as his normal attire was no longer useful. Part of his mind wondered if the merchant had bathed him while he was unconscious. He sincerely hoped not.
The house was enveloped in a reverent silence so profound that it seemed to demand respect. Eigan felt the urge to surrender to the tranquility, but a lingering unease kept him on edge.
His mana core, newly formed and as fragile as fine glass, had endured an overuse that nearly shattered it. The effort had left its mark: he had slept for almost three days, and now his body protested with a hunger that echoed through the quiet house.
Standing up cautiously, he felt the cold stone floor beneath his bare feet and then slipped on an awkward pair of sandals, which Xhalor had left next to the bed. For a moment, he hesitated, his eyes scanning the small room. Shadow lay curled up on a makeshift bed of sheets, his calm breathing contrasting sharply with the events that had undoubtedly exhausted Eigan.
Eigan ran a distracted hand through his disheveled hair and sighed. "At least one of us truly rested," he thought before opening the door with deliberate slowness.
The aroma of freshly baked bread and herbs hit him like a wave, awakening his senses. The narrow hallway was illuminated by high windows, and the walls were adorned with paintings that ranged from genuine artistic attempts to childlike scribbles so poorly made they brought a faint smile to Eigan's lips.
As he descended the stairs, the wooden steps creaked under his weight, and he noticed the contrast between the simplicity of the surroundings and the carefully chosen touches of opulence: tapestries embroidered with battle scenes and sturdy yet elegantly crafted furniture.
In the main room, a large wooden table dominated the space, marked by years of use. However, what caught his attention was the small face peeking out from behind a wall, poorly hidden. One of Xhalor's children, wide-eyed with curiosity and a hint of fear, watched him as though faced with a magical creature.
Eigan raised an eyebrow, allowing a faint, enigmatic smile to curve his lips. It was enough to send the boy darting away like a startled rabbit, his hurried steps echoing as he scampered up the stairs.
Before Eigan could process the scene, a firm voice broke the silence behind him. He turned sharply and found himself face-to-face with a robust woman, her imposing stance and piercing gaze seeming to dissect his soul. She stopped a few steps away, holding a red apple as if it were an offering.
"Ah, yes... because nothing makes a situation less unsettling than an apple," Eigan thought, his gaze shifting between the fruit and the woman's face.
She spoke in a language he didn't understand, her voice as direct as her expression. Instinctively, he tried to decipher the words, but the sweet scent of the apple made his stomach growl embarrassingly. Hesitant, he extended his hand and accepted the fruit, biting into it with a mix of suspicion and relief. The refreshing taste flooded his mouth, and he couldn't suppress a murmured sigh of satisfaction.
— Thank you. — He said, accompanying the words with a polite gesture, even though he doubted she understood him.
The woman analyzed him for a few more seconds before sighing, shaking her head slightly, and walking off toward the kitchen. Moments later, Xhalor appeared from another room, visibly uncomfortable, wiping his sweaty brow as he cast nervous glances between Eigan and the woman's retreating figure.
— So, you've met my wife, Laath. — Xhalor spoke, forcing a tense smile that didn't reach his eyes.
— Your wife? — Eigan arched an eyebrow, chewing another bite of the apple.—You still haven't told me where, exactly, I am.
Xhalor let out a deep sigh the kind only a man dealing with complex matters could muster and gestured for Eigan to follow. As they walked through the house, Eigan took in the details more closely: metal weapons displayed on the walls like trophies, but strategically out of reach of children. Each item seemed deliberately placed, as though the house's organization mirrored Xhalor's mind.
— That's my storage room. — Xhalor said with a note of pride, pointing to a large door at the end of the hall. — I've got another one outside, by the house. I need to be prepared, you know, like any good merchant.
Eigan merely nodded, taking another bite of the apple.
At the main entrance, Xhalor stopped before a sturdy door, resting his hand on the handle with the ceremony of someone about to reveal an important secret.
— I couldn't leave you in the forest, nor take you back to that cabin. That's why I brought you here to my home! — He declared, opening the door with a smile that mixed triumph and apprehension.
Eigan tilted his head, chewing the last piece of the apple as he studied the man. "Alright," he thought, "but the big question remains: why?"
What awaited him outside was a busy scene of life. The streets, paved with aged stones, weaved between dark stone buildings adorned with tall arches and narrow windows. Vibrant flags fluttered in the wind, representing local traders and their various associations.
Merchants hurried through the streets, guiding carts filled with exotic goods, while strategic points served as trading hubs. Hooded, cloaked figures made identification impossible, their dialogue fluidly switching between languages, from the local Tongue to Valyrian, carrying out rapid transactions at every turn. Women dressed in red walked with peculiar steps.
On the opposite side, Eigan noticed blacksmiths hammering steel, their rhythmic strikes echoing like distant cracks. Sparks floated in the air, accompanied by their assistants: men, women, and even boys his age, working diligently, avoiding eye contact with passersby.
A line of Unsullied marched silently, their darkened armor gleaming faintly under the sunlight. Each step was executed with perfect harmony, like puppets directed by a singular command. Trained since childhood to kill without hesitation, they bore long, deadly spears and large shields. Devoid of emotion or reaction, they were living weapons, perhaps more threatening than any danger in the untamed forests.
Eigan was somewhat familiar with the Unsullied, as Kaled often spoke of this city's guardians, hoping to pique his interest. It was typical of Kaled to try such tactics with him.
And finally, in the distance, towers rose toward the blue sky.
"I didn't want to waste time here," he whispered to himself, raising an eyebrow. When he heard Xhalor enthusiastically say, "Welcome to the city, my friend," he laughed, a harsh sound, almost as if he couldn't bear it.
— Of all places…
What seemed like a game of fate continued to reveal new pieces.
...
Xhalor's warehouse stood just a few steps from the main house, separated by a small courtyard of weathered stone. The structure was larger than Eigan had anticipated, built from sturdy wood and reinforced with iron beams, a testament to someone who deeply valued their stock. When Xhalor opened the doors, a mix of tanned leather, spices, and metals filled the air.
Inside, shelves stretched high, overflowing with a myriad of items: finely crafted weapons, luxurious fabrics, ornate wooden chests, and even curiosities from far-off lands. One corner was occupied by dismantled wagons, while another housed sealed crates that exuded an air of mystery.
Xhalor leaned casually against one of the wagons, crossing his arms as he watched Eigan, who was scanning the vastness of the space with calm precision.
— Worried I've told Rella something? — Xhalor began, his tone more relaxed than the topic seemed to warrant.
Eigan, who had been examining a set of hanging daggers, slowly turned to face him but remained silent.
— I haven't said a word. — Xhalor sighed, pulling a cloth from his pocket to wipe imaginary dirt from one of the wagon's wheels. — Not that I'd know how to explain it. "A twelve-year-old boy fought twelve Dothraki and lived." Sounds more like a tavern tale, don't you think?
He cast a quick glance at Eigan, expecting some sort of reaction, but the boy simply stared back with his usual unreadable expression, deep and impenetrable.
— To be honest… I'm not even sure it was real. — Xhalor admitted, almost laughing at himself. — Was it?
Eigan didn't reply, his attention drifting instead to an open chest filled with ancient scrolls. Xhalor sighed again, though this time with a faint smile.
— Either way, it doesn't matter. You can stay here as long as you want.
The boy finally looked up at Xhalor, considering the offer for a moment before speaking.
— I won't stay long. — He stepped away from the chest, his movements deliberate and measured. — I once told Kaled... I want to explore this world.
Xhalor chuckled, shaking his head.
— Kaled did mention something like that. — He replied, still smiling, his voice warm with humor. — He said something like… "That boy will uncover what even the Old Gods don't know."
Eigan raised an eyebrow, surprised. A faint smile tugged at his lips, followed by a short laugh.
— Did he really say that?
— Maybe. — Xhalor shrugged, laughing along. — Kaled had a sharp tongue.
The merchant pushed off the wagon and started toward the exit, gesturing for Eigan to follow.
As they crossed the courtyard, Xhalor casually remarked:
— Just… keep that wolf under control, alright? Don't let him go out there... Especially at home.
Eigan nodded, understanding the concern. A wolf like Shadow would draw unwanted attention in a city like Qohor, but Xhalor's insistence made him wonder. Is there more to this? He kept the thought to himself.
Inside the house, the reason became clear. Xhalor's children were racing around the living room like whirlwinds of energy, laughing as they played tag with Shadow. Laath, arms crossed and a stern glare on her face, regarded the scene as if it were a personal affront.
Eigan let out a short sigh and, before Shadow could pounce on him, grabbed the dark-furred wolf by its scruff, ending the game.
— That's enough, Shadow! — He murmured firmly, meeting the wolf's gaze with steady authority.
Xhalor swallowed hard as his eyes met his wife's, raising his hands in surrender.
— I… I'll head upstairs. — Xhalor announced at last, retreating before Laath could voice her displeasure.
As Xhalor exchanged glances with his wife, Eigan offered the merchant a knowing look.
— I'll think of something to resolve this.
Xhalor seemed relieved by the response, less evasive than the earlier silence, and nodded, following the boy up the stairs.
In the hallway, Eigan stopped in front of his room's door, facing the merchant with a serious expression.
— Do you have a map? I need one.
Xhalor raised an eyebrow, chuckling softly before teasing:
— A map? What kind of merchant would I be if I didn't have one?
The jest died the moment he noticed Eigan's intense gaze. Something about the boy's demeanor brought back memories of the clearing, and for a moment, Xhalor hesitated, stumbling over his words before replying with sincerity.
— Of course. I'll get one for you.
Eigan nodded and entered the room without another word, leaving Xhalor in the hallway, caught between curiosity and relief.
...
The light filtering through the window created irregular patterns on the floor of his room, illuminating the dust suspended in the air. The simplicity of the space contrasted with the discreet luxury of the rest of the house. Same with the sturdy wooden bed covered with a thick blanket, a wooden table near the window, with two chairs and a shelf that just had emptiness and spider houses in each space. Everything was functional, without excesses.
Eigan was sitting on the bed, with his hands braced on his knees as he purified the hand inside his body. Each cycle of power slowly strengthened his core and healed his wounds, but it came at a small cost. Sweat dripped down his temples as the exhaustion of battle and recovery took its toll on his young body.
Shadow lay curled in his lap, his fur warm and soft, as if the wolf found comfort merely in Eigan's presence. Despite his age and size, there was something fiercely protective about the way Shadow occasionally glanced at the door, as if anticipating some unseen threat.
Eigan's gaze fell on the wolf, thoughts wandering to the idea of helping Shadow form a core of his own. Their bond was deep, almost instinctual, but Eigan knew instinct alone wouldn't be enough to prepare Shadow for the challenges ahead.
— How would I even do that? — He didn't know, he had no basis in creating a nucleus in an animal like Shadow, and he wasn't even sure that the animal could withstand such pressure. Maybe he needed to know how things worked in this world first. — Before trying something like that... — His voice was hoarse, full of effort after his slight recovery, his hand caressed Shadow's back.
Releasing a stream of hot air, he broke his meditation and rose slowly, careful not to wake the wolf. Placing Shadow gently on the floor, he watched as the animal let out a low growl of displeasure before curling up on a discarded piece of fabric in the corner, a mix of improvised comfort and territorial instinct.
Eigan walked to the table by the window, where a map lay spread out. The faded lines and rough markings indicated routes, rivers, and cities, but his attention was drawn to the lands beyond Qohor. Slowly, his finger traced potential paths that might lead to something… greater.
His expression hardened as memories of the Dothraki surfaced. The brutal fight in the clearing, the lives lost. A mix of anger, guilt, and determination tightened in his chest.
"Is it revenge?" He asked himself, his finger halting on a specific point on the map. "Or just the desire to be who I once was?"
The words of Kaled echoed in his mind: "The finest steel is forged where magic is old." There was an irony to that, coming from someone who scoffed at the supernatural. Eigan frowned and mentally circled the place he knew would be his next destination.
Old Valyria
He had heard enough stories to know that few came back from there. Extinct dragons, dead sorcerers, and eternal curses were just part of what the legends promised. Of course, the little he knew, because of his Aunt Tasha and old Darla, was enough for him to draw on. Even though they are stories from people who knew little...
His lips twitched, but the smile that curved his face wasn't one of fear.
— This will be my next step.
The breeze that came through the small window carried the sounds of Qohor: the clang of hammers in the forges, the distant hum of the market, and the laughter of children playing in the streets. As if only now knowing where he was he could hear such noises. He knew he needed to leave soon. The world was vast and he had no time to waste.