The road stretched endlessly before Kalem, its dusty surface illuminated by the mid-morning sun. Onyx plodded along with his usual calm demeanor, his broad shoulders swaying gently with each step. The rhythmic creak of the cart's wheels had become a comforting sound to Kalem—a reminder of his steady progress toward Arcathis.
The plains around him were vast, dotted with patches of wildflowers and groves of wind-bent trees. Occasionally, he passed small herds of grazing animals—goats, sheep, or strange deer-like creatures with spiral horns.
Kalem reached into his cart and pulled out a small loaf of bread and a wedge of cheese. "Lunch break, big guy," he said, hopping off the cart and tying Onyx's reins to a nearby tree. The bull snorted appreciatively and began grazing on the tall grass.
As Kalem ate, he noticed something glinting in the distance. His curiosity piqued, he finished his meal and approached cautiously, keeping his spear within reach.
The object turned out to be an old bronze shield, half-buried in the dirt. Its surface was weathered and dented, the once-proud emblem on its face now barely visible. Kalem brushed off some of the dirt and traced the design with his fingers—a sunburst pattern, its rays stretching outward like golden spokes.
"Wonder who you belonged to," he mused aloud, glancing around the area.
Not far from the shield, he found more remnants of a battle—rusted swords, broken arrows, and scattered bones. The scene was long-abandoned, overgrown with grass and wildflowers, but it told a silent story of conflict and loss.
Kalem felt a pang of unease. "This world has seen its share of violence," he murmured.
Onyx wandered over, sniffing at the shield before giving a low grunt. Kalem chuckled, patting the bull's side. "Yeah, I'm not keeping it. Just curious."
He left the shield where he found it and returned to the cart, urging Onyx onward.
Later that day, as Kalem crested a hill, he spotted a figure in the distance. The person was walking along the road, their posture slouched under the weight of a heavy pack.
Kalem slowed the cart as he approached, calling out, "Need a ride?"
The figure turned, revealing a young woman with tawny skin and curly black hair. Her amber eyes sparkled with both weariness and gratitude as she waved.
"Thank you," she said, climbing onto the cart. "I wasn't sure how much farther I could go."
"I'm Kalem," he introduced himself.
"Naida," she replied, settling in.
Naida explained that she was a traveling herbalist, gathering rare plants to sell in the towns she visited. Her pack was filled with small pouches of dried leaves, roots, and flowers, each labeled in neat handwriting.
As they traveled together, Kalem found himself intrigued by her knowledge of plants and their uses. She pointed out various herbs growing along the roadside, explaining their medicinal properties.
"This one," she said, plucking a sprig of tiny blue flowers, "is called moonshade. It's good for fevers, but you have to dry it properly, or it becomes toxic."
Kalem nodded, impressed. "You know a lot about this."
Naida smiled. "It's my trade. What about you? What brings you out here?"
"Arcathis Academy," he replied. "I'm hoping to learn more about... well, a lot of things."
Her eyebrows raised. "Ambitious. I've heard stories about that place."
"Good or bad?" Kalem asked.
"Both," she said cryptically, then changed the subject.
When evening fell, they set up camp near a stream. Kalem started a fire while Naida brewed a pot of tea using herbs from her pack.
Over the crackling flames, they shared stories of their travels. Kalem recounted his encounters in Bramble Hollow and the strange waystone he'd found.
Naida listened intently, her expression thoughtful. "Waystones are rare," she said. "Most of them lost their magic centuries ago, but some still hold traces of power. If you're seeing them, it might mean something—or someone—is guiding you."
"Guiding me?" Kalem frowned. "Why would anyone do that?"
She shrugged. "Who knows? The world works in mysterious ways."
Later, as the fire burned low, Naida pulled a small wooden flute from her pack and began to play. The melody was soft and haunting, filling the night with an almost ethereal quality.
Kalem leaned back against Onyx, who had settled down near the cart. The bull snorted softly in his sleep, his massive form a reassuring presence.
For the first time in weeks, Kalem felt a sense of peace—a brief respite from the uncertainties of the road.
The next morning, Naida thanked Kalem for the ride and set off on a different path.
"Take care, Kalem," she said, adjusting her pack. "And keep an eye out for more waystones. They might lead you to answers."
"You too," Kalem replied. "Good luck with your herbs."
As she disappeared over the horizon, Kalem turned to Onyx. "Well, big guy, it's just us again. Let's keep moving."
The road stretched out before them, winding through the hills like a ribbon of possibilities. Kalem urged Onyx onward, the cart creaking softly as they ventured into the unknown.