Days later, the mood was still heavy. River spent the long, slow daylight hours practicing his soul techniques while the others slept. But none of them ever seemed fully rested. They slept in short bursts; the fatigue slowing them.

  Three nights of trudging through the forest left them battered, irritable, and worn thin. By the fourth, he sensed the woods thinning, and the presence of a town. Wheeles hooves and voices brushed against his mind. When he opened his eyes again, the sky had started to pale. He turned to the others. Their faces said it all: Hollow, drawn, Vacant eyes, hunched shoulders.

  “There’s a town down there,” River said, pointing. His voice was rough, but certain. “We might find food. Maybe a bed. But we can’t stay long. If word gets out, we’re done.” For just a moment, the cloud hanging over them lifted. Albert, Callum, and Amalia shared quick, tired glances—almost-smiles flickering across their faces. Hope. Real, if fragile. River felt it too, threading into his chest. Maybe they could rest. Even for just one night. The next stretch passed in a blur. They broke through the forest’s edge and into open light. Sunlight spilled across their faces—warm, golden, almost unreal after so long beneath the trees. Their spirits lifted, just a little. River saw it in Albert’s steps, lighter now. In Callum and Amalia’s quiet smiles. He didn’t know how they’d pay for a room yet… but that was a problem for later. Their pace quickened, drawn forward by the promise of luxuries they hadn’t known in days. And then, finally, the town crested the horizon—stone buildings bathed in morning sun, rooftops rising like a dream. River couldn’t tell if his mind was playing tricks on him.

  The gates were already open. The place reminded River painfully of the last town he’d entered with Lud—the one where everything had fallen apart. He shivered and shoved the memory down. But this town was bigger. More than one road cut through it, and voices echoed between cramped stone buildings. It felt alive. Messy. Real. River glanced at the others. “Does anyone have money?”

  Albert reached into his rucksack and pulled out a small leather pouch. “It’s not much, but it’ll get us food.” River nodded. “I don’t need any. You three go eat. I’ll figure something out.” They didn’t argue. Hunger had stolen the energy for it. They vanished down the road. River lingered. Thinking. He needed gold—soon. His fingers brushed something cold in his bag. He pulled out the disk the old man had given him, turning it over. Heavy, but not metallic. He didn’t know what it was made of… Maybe someone in town would. He tucked it away and stepped onto the main road. It was wide, laid with uneven gravel, and smelled faintly of piss and rot. No guards. No nobles. No polished marble like in Norvil. Strangely, the stink made him feel safer. This wasn’t Norvil’s main street. Good. He passed crooked inns and sagging taverns until he spotted a blacksmith’s shop wedged between two leaning buildings. Perfect. River pushed open the door. Heat rolled over him—thick, metallic, suffocating. The blacksmith looked up: short, bald, broad-shouldered, like a statue given life. “Do you buy old things?” River asked. The man grunted. “If it’s worth somethin’. I don’t waste time on junk.” River said nothing. He set the disk on the workbench. The change was immediate. The blacksmith leaned forward. His eyes gleamed. “I’ll give you thirty gold,” he said too quickly. River hesitated. The eagerness made his skin crawl. But… thirty gold. He didn’t have time to haggle. And they needed the money. “Deal.” The blacksmith smiled thinly and disappeared into the back, clutching the disk. A few tense moments passed. Then he returned, handing over a heavy pouch. River peeked inside—heavy, gleaming gold coins peered back. More than he’d ever held. As the weight settled in his hand, regret crept in. “Will I need that disk someday?”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Something tightened in his chest. It had been too easy. Too clean. He didn’t know. But it was too late now. “Thanks. Have a good day,” the blacksmith said, voice low and amused.

  River nodded stiffly and stepped back into the street, heart pounding.He closed his eyes and reached into the earth. A pulse of green essence responded—steady and close. Albert. River smiled and headed down the crooked side streets, ignoring the stares that followed him. Then he saw it. A squat tavern, squeezed between two merchant stalls. Small. Crooked. Easy to miss. Just what they needed. He pushed open the door. The smell of roasted meat and stale ale hit him instantly. For a moment, he was back in Norvil. But he shook it off and scanned the room. There they were—crammed into a booth in the far corner. River crossed the tavern quickly, a grin spreading across his face. He held up the pouch and gave it a little shake. Coins jingled.“Dinner’s on me,” he said, dropping the pouch onto the table. Their eyes went wide. Then they burst out laughing. Callum leaned forward, grinning. “How the hell did you manage that?” River shrugged. “Sold something I brought.” Albert clapped him on the back. “Four ales, please!” he shouted. River slid into the booth beside Amalia, a little nervous. He didn’t know how ale would affect him now. But he wasn’t about to ruin the mood. The waitress returned with four mugs. River handed her a gold coin. She blinked. “That’s four silver. Your change is eight.” She set the drinks and coins down.

  River leaned back, lifting his mug. For the first time in what felt like forever… things didn’t seem so hopeless. They laughed and joked as the night wore on. Callum insisted on drinking games from “his village,” though River doubted the rules were real. As the tavern dimmed and thinned, River stood. “We should find a place to sleep.” The others agreed. Albert wanted another round. River smiled. He still didn’t feel a thing. No heat, no buzz. He probably couldn’t get drunk anymore. Twenty-eight gold, four silver. Enough, for now.They stumbled to a small inn. River kept a hand on Callum, who looked ready to collapse.

  The innkeeper raised a brow. “Two rooms,” River said. “Just for the night.” “One gold each.” The innkeeper grunted under his breath. He paid almost without flinching.

  Callum curled up on the stairs, half asleep already. As he mutterd to himself. “It’s fine. I can sllllee… p here.” He had only made it halfway up the stairs Albert kept trying to turn back.

  “Jus’ one more drink.”

  Every time he did, River placed a firm hand on his shoulder. His glare was enough to stop Albert in his tracks. Amalia didn’t care. She just kept walking, bumping into walls but never slowing down. River shoved Callum and Albert into Room Two. “But I wanted to keep drinking!” Albert complained. “Sleep,” River said pleading with the big man. “I don’t wanna!” River sighed. “If you don’t, the monsters will get you.” Albert stiffened. Then flopped back and snored.

  River crossed the hall. Nudged Amalia into Room Three. She stumbled. He caught her. She laughed and stripped down in seconds. River turned away, ears burning. He wouldn’t let his mind wander. She curled up and fell asleep before he turned back. He pulled the covers over her and slipped out. Back in Room Two, Albert was mumbling. Callum was out cold. River sat at the desk, pulled out the book he’d meant to study. Echoes of the Mind. The candle flickered, casting shadows.

  For the first time since leaving the Academy, River let himself breathe.

  No one was chasing him. No one watching. Just him. The silence.

  The past no longer waited patiently to be remembered. It screamed.