The bustling energy of Wayward was a stark contrast to the stillness of the ruins they had left behind. People moved in hurried strides, each occupied with their own matters—traders peddling their wares, children running between the market stalls, and blacksmiths hammering out weapons that glowed faintly with imbued mana. Isla couldn't help but feel a strange sense of disorientation. The world outside was dangerous and twisted, yet here, there was a semblance of life continuing as it always had.
Isla kept close to Auren, her eyes darting around, taking in the sights and sounds of the settlement. They passed rows of vendors selling everything from food supplies to mana crystals, each shouting over the next to attract attention. The smell of freshly baked bread mixed with the metallic tang of forged weapons, creating an overwhelming mix of scents that made Isla's head spin.
Auren walked with an unbothered air, his eyes scanning the surroundings, though his expression remained indifferent. It was clear he was assessing everything—the people, the buildings, and whatever secrets this settlement might hold. His presence alone was enough to make people step aside, and Isla noticed the wary glances thrown in their direction.
"We need supplies," Isla said quietly, glancing at the market stalls. "Food, water... maybe even some proper shelter for the night."
Auren nodded absently, his eyes still scanning their surroundings. "Do what you must. I will gather information."
Isla raised an eyebrow. "You're just going to leave me here?"
Auren paused, turning to face her. There was a glimmer of amusement in his golden eyes. "You said you know how to take care of yourself. Consider this an opportunity to prove it."
Before Isla could respond, he turned and strode away, disappearing into the crowd. Isla watched him go, a mix of frustration and anxiety bubbling up inside her. She clenched her fists, taking a deep breath.
"Fine," she muttered to herself. "I can do this."
She moved toward the market stalls, her eyes scanning the goods. She had a few coins tucked away in her satchel—not much, but hopefully enough to get them through the night. She approached a vendor selling dried meats and bread, offering a polite smile.
"How much for a loaf of bread and some jerky?" she asked.
The vendor, an older man with a grizzled beard, eyed her warily. "Three silver pieces," he said, his voice gruff.
Isla hesitated, glancing at her coin pouch. She had just enough, but it left her with almost nothing. She bit her lip, weighing her options. Before she could make a decision, a voice interrupted.
"Three silver? For that stale excuse of bread? You must be joking, Markus."
Isla turned to see a young woman standing beside her, her auburn hair tied back in a loose braid. She wore simple clothing—a tunic and trousers—but there was a confident air about her, and her green eyes sparkled with mischief.
The vendor scowled. "Stay out of this, Lyra. You're always meddling where you don't belong."
Lyra ignored him, turning her attention to Isla. "He's overcharging you. Two silver, and not a coin more."
Isla blinked, taken aback by the woman's sudden interference. "Oh, um... thank you," she said, her voice uncertain.
Lyra grinned, her gaze flicking back to the vendor. "Well? Two silver, or I'll tell everyone about that time you tried to pass off rotten apples as fresh."
Markus grumbled under his breath but relented, nodding. "Fine, fine. Two silver."
Isla handed over the coins, taking the bread and jerky with a grateful nod. "Thank you," she said again, turning to Lyra. "You didn't have to do that."
Lyra shrugged, a playful smile on her lips. "Consider it a welcome gift. You're new here, right? It's not every day we get strangers in Wayward, especially not ones dressed like you." Her eyes flicked to Isla's attire, which was more suited for exploring ancient ruins than blending into a bustling settlement.
Isla glanced down at herself, then back at Lyra. "Yeah, we just arrived. I'm Isla. And you are...?"
"Lyra," the woman said, offering her hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Isla. So, what brings you to Wayward? You don't seem like a trader or a mercenary."
Isla hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. "Just... traveling. Looking for supplies and information."
Lyra raised an eyebrow, her smile widening. "Mysterious, aren't you? Well, if you need a guide, I'm your girl. I know this place like the back of my hand."
Isla considered the offer for a moment. A guide could be useful, especially in an unfamiliar place like this. And Lyra seemed friendly enough, even if a bit forward. She nodded. "Alright. A guide would be helpful. But I can't pay you much."
Lyra waved her hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. I'll consider it my good deed for the day. Besides, you look like you could use a friend."
Isla smiled, a genuine warmth spreading through her chest. It had been a long time since she'd had anyone to talk to besides Auren, and his company was... well, complicated. "Thank you, Lyra. I appreciate it."
Lyra nodded, her eyes sparkling. "Great! Come on, let's get you settled. There's an inn nearby that's not too pricey. And maybe later, I can show you around the more interesting parts of Wayward—the parts the guards don't want you to see."
Isla chuckled, falling into step beside Lyra as they made their way through the market. She felt a sense of ease she hadn't felt since this whole journey had begun. Perhaps, for a moment, she could forget about gods and vengeance and just... be.
While Isla navigated the marketplace with her newfound companion, Auren moved with purpose through the streets of Wayward. He ignored the curious and wary glances thrown his way, his focus solely on what he could learn about this place and the world beyond it.
He made his way to the center of the settlement, where a tall building loomed over the others—a tavern, by the looks of it, with a faded sign that read The Gilded Chalice. If there was anywhere people talked too much, it would be here.
Auren stepped inside, his eyes quickly adjusting to the dim lighting. The tavern was filled with the smell of ale and the sound of laughter, the clinking of mugs, and the occasional outburst of a drunken argument. He moved toward the bar, his gaze sweeping over the patrons—traders, mercenaries, a few locals who looked like they'd seen their share of trouble.
The bartender, a burly man with a scar running down his cheek, looked up as Auren approached. "What'll it be, stranger?" he asked, wiping a mug with a rag that looked far from clean.
"I'm not here for drinks," Auren replied, his voice calm but commanding. He reached into his coat, pulling out a single gold coin and placing it on the bar. "I'm looking for information. Anything unusual—recent events, travelers, disturbances."
The bartender eyed the coin, then looked back at Auren, his expression wary. "Information, huh? Depends on what you're looking for."
"Anything regarding the Mana Surge," Auren said, his golden eyes locking onto the man's. "And the movements of the gods."
The bartender hesitated, glancing around as if to make sure no one was listening. He leaned in closer, lowering his voice. "You're not the first to come asking about the Mana Surge. There've been others—scholars, adventurers. Most of 'em didn't stick around long. As for the gods... people say they've seen signs. Strange lights in the sky, voices in the dark. Some think the gods are coming back. Others think it's just the world going mad."
Auren nodded, his expression unreadable. "And the people here? How have they reacted?"
The bartender shrugged. "People are scared, plain and simple. They try to get by, but with monsters roaming the wilds and magic doing strange things, it's hard to feel safe. Some folks have taken to worship again, building shrines, praying for protection."
Auren's eyes narrowed slightly. "Shrines, you say? Where?"
"There's one just outside the town, in the woods," the bartender said, nodding toward the north. "Old shrine. People have been leaving offerings there, hoping it'll keep the monsters away."
Auren considered this, then nodded. He slid the coin across the bar. "Thank you."
The bartender took the coin, his gaze lingering on Auren for a moment before he turned away. Auren straightened, turning to leave the tavern. He had what he needed—a lead. A shrine, and perhaps more clues to where his power had been scattered.
He stepped back out into the cool night air, his eyes scanning the settlement. He could sense the faint pulse of mana, the energy that flowed through this place, and beyond it, he could feel something else—a pull, a faint whisper that called to him from the north.
Without hesitation, he moved to find Isla. They had a new destination, and he would not waste time. The sooner he reclaimed what was his, the sooner he could show the other gods why they had feared him.
Isla was just finishing her meal—a simple but satisfying stew—when Auren found her at the inn Lyra had led her to. The common room was warm, the fire crackling in the hearth, and Lyra was animatedly telling a story about one of her previous adventures, her hands moving wildly as she spoke. Isla laughed, genuinely enjoying the young woman's company.
The moment Auren entered, his presence seemed to shift the entire atmosphere of the room. Conversations quieted, and heads turned, curiosity and unease evident on the faces of the patrons. Lyra raised an eyebrow, glancing at Isla. "Friend of yours?"
Isla nodded, her smile fading slightly as she stood. "Yeah. Something like that." She turned to Auren, noting the determined look in his eyes. "Did you find what you were looking for?"
Auren nodded. "There is a shrine north of here. We leave at first light."
Isla frowned, glancing at Lyra, who was watching the exchange with interest. "A shrine? What kind of shrine?"
"An old one," Auren replied. "It may hold answers—or power. Either way, we're going."
Lyra stood as well, her eyes widening slightly. "You're going to the shrine? That place is dangerous. People say it's haunted."
Auren's lips curled into a faint, almost amused smile. "I do not fear ghosts."
Isla sighed, shaking her head. "Of course you don't." She looked at Lyra, offering an apologetic smile. "Thank you for your help today, Lyra. I really appreciate it."
Lyra waved her off, her smile returning. "Hey, if you survive the haunted shrine, come back and tell me all about it. I'd love to hear the story."
Isla chuckled. "I'll do my best."
Auren turned, already heading for the door. Isla glanced at Lyra one last time, then followed, her heart pounding with a mix of excitement and dread. The journey continued, and with each step, the stakes seemed to grow higher. She could only hope she was ready for whatever awaited them at the shrine.
As they stepped out into the cool night air, Isla looked up at the sky, the stars twinkling above. The world had changed, and she was changing with it. Whether she was ready or not, she would face whatever lay ahead—by Auren's side, for better or worse.