The air grew cooler and crisper as Kalem and Onyx continued their journey. The terrain began to shift from rolling plains to dense forests, and the dirt road narrowed, winding through towering trees with canopies so thick they filtered the sunlight into shimmering patches of gold and green. There was something different about this part of the world—something Kalem couldn't quite put into words.
"Feels... strange, doesn't it, Onyx?" Kalem muttered, glancing around. The bull snorted softly in response, his massive frame unbothered by the change in atmosphere.
The deeper they ventured into the woods, the more peculiar things became. Kalem began noticing faint glimmers of light in his peripheral vision, like fireflies, but when he turned to look, there was nothing there. The trees themselves seemed almost alive, their bark etched with swirling patterns that could have been natural but looked deliberate.
Near a bend in the road, Kalem spotted something that made him stop the cart entirely. A cluster of stones hovered midair, spinning slowly as though caught in an invisible current. The largest of them was no bigger than his fist, but they emitted a faint hum, a low resonance that vibrated through the air.
Curious, Kalem approached cautiously, leaving Onyx by the cart. He extended a hand toward the stones, feeling a slight resistance in the air around them—like pushing against water.
"Strange..." he muttered, withdrawing his hand.
As if sensing his curiosity, one of the smaller stones broke away from the cluster and drifted toward him. It hovered inches from his face before darting back to rejoin the others.
Kalem stepped back, unsettled but fascinated. The ruins back at the Ironworks had their mysteries, but this felt different—less dangerous, more... alive.
"Come on, Onyx," he said, returning to the cart. "Let's keep moving."
As dusk settled, Kalem set up camp in a clearing just off the road. He built a small fire, its warm glow keeping the chill at bay, and prepared a simple meal. Onyx grazed nearby, his bulk a comforting presence in the growing darkness.
It was then that Kalem noticed the lights.
At first, he thought they were stars, but they moved—slowly, lazily, weaving through the trees like glowing will-o'-the-wisps. They were soft and pale, ranging from bluish-white to faint gold.
One drifted close to the fire, hovering just out of reach. Kalem watched it, captivated, before holding out his hand. The light hesitated, then floated closer, brushing against his fingers. It was warm, like the first rays of sunlight on a cold morning.
Onyx snorted, drawing Kalem's attention. The bull seemed wary, his ears flicking back and forth as he watched the lights.
"They're harmless," Kalem murmured, though he wasn't entirely sure.
The lights stayed for a while, floating around the camp like curious fireflies, before slowly drifting back into the forest.
The next morning, Kalem was packing up his camp when a figure appeared on the road—a cloaked traveler leaning heavily on a gnarled staff. The figure's movements were slow, deliberate, and there was something about them that put Kalem on edge.
"Good morning," the traveler called out, their voice raspy but not unfriendly. "Might I share your fire for a moment? These woods grow colder with every step."
Kalem hesitated, his hand instinctively going to the spear strapped to the cart. "The fire's burned out," he replied carefully, "but you're welcome to sit and rest."
The traveler nodded and shuffled closer, lowering themselves onto a fallen log. Up close, Kalem could see they were an older man, their face lined with age and their eyes sharp with intelligence. A faint, silvery glow emanated from their staff, and Kalem couldn't help but stare.
"Not from around here, are you?" the man said, breaking the silence.
Kalem shook his head. "Just passing through. Heading to Arcathis."
The man chuckled softly. "A bold destination. You'll find things only grow stranger the closer you get. The world bends near Arcathis, boy. Reality becomes... flexible."
Kalem frowned. "What do you mean?"
The man tapped his staff against the ground, and the silvery glow intensified for a moment. "You'll see soon enough. Keep your wits about you. The magic around here doesn't always play nice."
Before Kalem could ask more, the traveler stood, gripping their staff tightly. "Safe travels, young one. Perhaps we'll meet again."
Without another word, the man vanished into the trees, leaving Kalem with more questions than answers.
As Kalem resumed his journey, the weight of the traveler's words lingered in his mind. He had always been curious about magic—its potential, its power—but now, more than ever, he felt its presence. It was in the air he breathed, the ground he walked on, the very fabric of the world around him.
"Reality becomes flexible," he murmured, glancing at the spear beside him.
Onyx snorted, as if to say, We'll face it together.
Kalem smiled faintly and patted the bull's side. "Yeah. Together."
With renewed determination, he urged the cart forward, the road ahead growing more mysterious with every step.