We spent the next five days exploring the city, and I have to admit, it was a peaceful break. With Rem sharing more about the Dreamscape and other worlds, the days passed quickly. Training continued every night as Kran pushed me hard, and finally, he declared I was ready to consume the Dragonlord's heart. Then, as usual, he disappeared somewhere, saying he needed to "prepare." I didn't question him much, though I was a little worried he might get lost again.
It was oddly quiet without Kran in my head. Peaceful, yes, but strange. I'd gotten used to his chatter, and now, without it, my thoughts felt heavier. Without his distractions, I was thinking about home again. Too much.
I always wanted to leave, why am I feeling like this?
Is it because they all died?
Didn't you resented that life? Didn't you wished for their deaths? Why are you getting emotional now?
I needed to clear my head, so I decided to go for a walk. It was early morning, and I didn't want to wake Rem, so I slipped out of the inn alone. The city was quiet. The glowing mushrooms hanging from the vast ceiling of the Worldtree shifted in brightness to mimic daylight and night, and now, their soft glow gave the streets an eerie, serene feel.
The streets were almost empty, with only a few early risers moving about. But the quiet only made my thoughts louder. I kept thinking about my world—about the people who were gone. I'd wanted to leave, hadn't I? So why did it hurt so much to remember?
I couldn't dwell on it anymore. I needed a distraction.
I found a small bar still open and slipped inside. It was dimly lit, the warm glow of the lamps casting long shadows across the room. A few patrons sat at tables, talking in low voices. It wasn't busy, but at least there was some noise. That was enough for now.
I ordered a drink and sat quietly, half-listening to the conversation happening at the table next to me. Four men, half-drunk, were discussing something that piqued my interest.
"Did you hear about what happened in Stormfront Sea?" one asked, his voice slurring slightly.
"I heard bits and pieces," another replied. "A Revenant showed up, didn't it? Even the Golden Order pulled their troops back."
"They abandoned the people there?" the third man asked, sounding shocked.
"Keep it down," the first man hissed, glancing around. "But yeah, that's what I heard. They left everyone there to fend for themselves."
There was a moment of silence before one of them added, "That's awful. They'd probably even stop people from helping just to avoid looking bad."
"Hey, you're gonna get us in trouble with talk like that," another muttered. " it doesn't sound right."
"Eh, what are the chances of some big shot coming to this world, let alone this small bar? No offense," one said, nodding toward the bartender.
The bartender didn't respond, just continued wiping down the bar.
"Anyway, I heard rumors that something—someone—is holding off the Revenant. No one knows who or what, but the area hasn't fallen yet. I mean, if it had, we'd be hearing it in the Order's propaganda machine by now."
"That's enough," one of the men muttered, standing up unsteadily. "You've had too much to drink. Time to go."
They left the bar in a stumble, their conversation trailing off as they went.
Their words stuck with me. It seemed the Golden Order wasn't well-liked around here, at least not in this world. I had thought Mirella's distrust of them was personal, but maybe there was more to it.
Not my problem, though. I was here to find Shaureen, not get involved in Dreamscape politics.
I finished my drink and was about to leave when the door opened again. A group of knights, clad in the shining gold armor of the Golden Order, stepped inside. The air in the bar immediately thickened with tension. All conversation stopped as five knights made their way in, their presence casting a heavy silence over the room.
One of the knights, clearly the leader, looked around, his gaze sharp. "Has anyone seen individuals threatening the peace and order of society?" His voice was cold, demanding.
The patrons remained silent, exchanging uneasy glances. The knights began walking through the bar, inspecting each person as they passed. One of them stopped next to me.
"Have you seen anything unusual, sir?" he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.
The bartender shot me a worried look, and I knew the knights were looking for the men who'd just left. Keeping my tone casual, I answered, "Nothing unusual here. Just some people having a drink. If that threatens peace and order, you might as well shut down every bar."
The knight's eyes lingered on people around for a moment before he straightened. "Very well," he said, signaling to the others. "We're leaving."
The knights filed out, their golden armor glinting in the dim light. The moment they were gone, the tension in the room broke, and a collective sigh of relief swept over the bar.
The bartender turned to me with a grateful nod. "Thanks for not selling those guys out. They're just regulars—don't know when to keep their mouths shut, but they aren't bad people."
I shrugged. "They weren't causing trouble. No reason to stir up problems."
The bartender gave a small smile, though his eyes still held a trace of unease. "You might want to watch yourself. As you saw, talking too much can get you in trouble with those types."
As I left the bar, I couldn't shake the feeling that the knights' timing hadn't been a coincidence. They'd shown up almost immediately after those men left. My guess was they were trying to scare people off. sending the message that they always listen.
I glanced over my shoulder once more before heading back to the inn. Things in this world felt a lot less peaceful after this short encounter.
Still, better than getting bored.
---
Kran soared above the bustling streets of the city, his small metallic form blending with the shadows as his eyes scanned for a landmark he had once known well. Moving swiftly through narrow, less crowded alleys, he finally reached a secluded spot—a statue of a giant holding a bowl. It stood at the far end of a forgotten passage, a place no one seemed to visit.
Kran ignited a small flame, carefully placing it in the bowl held by the giant's statue. Ancient symbols etched into the stone began to glow, illuminating faintly as the ground trembled. Slowly, a hidden passageway opened beneath the statue, leading deep underground.
Without hesitation, Kran flew inside, navigating the labyrinthine tunnels with ease, as though he'd traveled them countless times before. The passage twisted and turned, but he moved as if each step was ingrained in memory. At the end, he came upon another statue—this one depicting a giant holding a hammer, poised to strike an anvil. Kran traced a series of symbols into the base of the statue, and with a low rumble, the wall behind it slid open.
Before him lay a vast, secret city nestled deep within the roots of the Worldtree. Its colossal structures were entwined with the roots, creating an awe-inspiring sight. But Kran had little time to admire it. Almost instantly, he was surrounded by giants, their towering forms casting long shadows over his small, metallic body.
"How did you find this place, intruder?" one of the giants demanded, his voice booming as he gripped a massive hammer, ready to strike.
Kran didn't flinch. "I've come to visit an old friend, of course. How else would I have known to enter here?" he said casually, hovering above the ground.
The giant's eyes narrowed. "Who is this 'friend' you speak of, small one?"
"I seek Ofnir, the Forge Master. I have a job for him," Kran replied, his voice sharp.
At the mention of Ofnir's name, the group of giants stirred, their expressions darkening. One of them lunged without warning, swinging his weapon toward Kran with enough force to flatten him, but the others quickly restrained him.
"Take your lies and leave. You are not welcome here," another giant growled, stepping forward.
"I assure you," Kran said, his tone calm but firm, "I'm not leaving until I see my old friend. You can try to force me, but it won't end well for you."
The giants began advancing toward Kran, their massive strides shaking the ground beneath them. Kran's glowing eyes flickered. "Well," he muttered, "I was hoping to keep this for later, but..."
Suddenly, a dense black mist enveloped the area, spreading from Kran like a shadowy storm. The very air grew thick with a presence so terrifying that even the fearless giants hesitated. A deep, otherworldly voice echoed through the roots of the Worldtree.
"Master of the Forge, remember your promise. Answer my call!"
The giants stepped back, visibly shaken by the dark presence surrounding the small metal thing in front of them. Moments later, two older giants, clad in armor that resembled dragon scales, approached from the depths of the city. Their heavy footsteps echoed with authority.
"This being is a guest of the Forge Master," one of the elder giants declared in a voice filled with reverence. "Do not touch him."
The giants parted without arguing further, and the two elders escorted Kran further into the city, deeper into the heart of the Worldtree's roots. They entered a vast chamber where the roots formed a towering dome. At its center stood a monumental statue—an ancient woman, her hand gently resting upon the head of a dragon. Even the giants seemed small beside it.
Beneath the statue, entwined with the roots, lay the figure of a giant, his body merging into the tree itself.
Kran hovered closer, his small form dwarfed by the immensity of the scene before him. "What... happened to you?" Kran whispered, his voice barely audible, laden with disbelief and sorrow.
It was Ofnir, though barely recognizable. His once-great form was now part of the very roots, his body twisted and fused with the wood.
The giant's deep, tired voice rumbled, as if pulled from the very core of the earth. "Time... time passes... I thought you dead... though I knew you couldn't..." Ofnir's voice was slow, fragmented, as though speaking required all his strength.
Kran said nothing, unable to form words as he watched his once-powerful friend struggle to hold onto the last fragments of his memory.
"My mind... it is no longer whole. I no longer remember who I was... or who you are... But I held onto one thing... only one..." Ofnir's voice trembled. "The promise. The voice... I remember the voice. The promise I made to you... I shall keep it."
One of the elder giants stepped forward, his voice solemn. "Nearly a thousand years ago, Master Ofnir was captured, tortured for years. When we found him, he was on the brink of death. He chose to merge with the Great Mother's roots to survive... to keep that single promise. He knew it would cost him his mind, but he refused to break his word. We have done what we could to help him... but we do not know how long he can endure this existence. He never told us what the promise was, only that it was his alone to bear."
Kran stood silently before the sight of his old friend, his heart heavy. Ofnir had been reduced to this state—worse than death—because of a promise made to him.
The two giants knelt before Kran, bowing their heads. "If you are the one our master made this promise to, we beg of you. Relieve him of his suffering. He has endured enough."
Kran ignored their pleas, his gaze fixed on the withered form of Ofnir. Slowly, he approached, his tiny frame almost insignificant beside the giant. "You did well, old friend," Kran whispered. "You kept your word. And now, I have brought the fire that will burn them all down."
Turning to the giants, Kran's voice rang out with newfound authority. "Light the Forge once again. Tonight, the one who will claim the Throne of Dreams, the one who will end this thousand year nightmare, will rise from here!"
The giants exchanged glances, their hesitation gone. There was excitement in their old eyes. They nodded solemnly and moved to carry out his command.
Kran looked back at the statue, his mind buzzing with memories of a time long past. "I will finish what we started, Ofnir," he said quietly. "And your suffering will not be in vain."
---