The crisp morning air clung to the edges of the plains as Traveler and Khaz’ara settled near a cluster of weathered stones, the soft light of the mid-morning sun beginning to break through the lingering chill. The faint crackle of a small fire brought warmth to the clearing as they prepared for the next leg of their journey.
Khaz’ara crouched over the fire, her iron kettle resting on a makeshift stand. She worked with practiced ease, pulling a bundle of dried herbs from her pouch. Traveler, seated on a nearby rock, leaned forward, watching her with a faint grin.
“You know,” he began, breaking the quiet, “for someone who pretends to be all about practicality, you’ve got a real flair for tea ceremonies.”
Khaz’ara’s eyes flicked up, sharp but glinting with amusement. “If you’re bored, I can give you something useful to do. Maybe gathering more firewood?”
Traveler held up his hands in mock surrender. “Whoa now, I wasn’t criticizing. I’m just saying you’ve got style. Let me help. I’m a quick learner.”
Khaz’ara raised a brow, skepticism plain on her face. “You? Help? The same person who thought adding salt to tea might ‘enhance the flavor’?”
“That was one time,” he protested, rising from his seat. “I’ve learned a lot since then. Come on, teach me your ways, oh master of the kettle.”
She huffed a laugh, shaking her head as she handed him the pestle and a handful of herbs. “Fine. Crush these—but not into dust. Just enough to release the aroma. Think you can manage that without ruining it?”
“Of course,” he said with mock solemnity, carefully taking the bundle. He began grinding with deliberate, exaggerated motions. “I’ll have you know, I was once considered an expert at preparing... instant coffee.”
Khaz’ara smirked, watching him out of the corner of her eye as she adjusted the kettle. “Instant coffee? Sounds like the pinnacle of your culinary achievements.”
“Hey, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it,” he replied, mock indignation lacing his tone. “In my world, it’s a survival staple. But I’ll admit, this tea-making thing has a bit more... finesse.”
As the earthy scent of crushed herbs rose into the cool air, Khaz’ara leaned closer to inspect his work. “Not bad,” she admitted grudgingly. “You didn’t ruin it.”
Traveler grinned. “I’m honored. What’s next?”
She took the pestle from him, pouring the herbs into the kettle with a practiced motion. “Next, you sit quietly and don’t distract me while I brew it.”
“Harsh,” he said, mock-pouting as he sat back. “And here I thought we were bonding.”
Khaz’ara rolled her eyes but didn’t bother hiding the faint smile tugging at her lips. “We are. I’m just not trusting you with the important steps yet.”
Traveler watched her work in silence for a moment, the firelight catching in her sharp features and amber eyes. There was a rhythm to her movements, an ease that felt worlds apart from the fierce warrior who had faced down crystal-backed beasts the day before. He found himself appreciating the quieter side of her, the way her stoic demeanor softened in small, subtle ways when she was at peace.
As she poured the tea into two tin cups, she handed one to him with a wordless nod. Their fingers brushed briefly in the exchange, and Traveler felt a flicker of warmth that wasn’t entirely from the fire or the tea.
“Moment of truth,” he said, taking a cautious sip. His eyes widened as the layered flavors unfolded on his tongue—rich, earthy, and faintly sweet. “This is... incredible. How does this not count as magic?”
Khaz’ara chuckled, sipping from her own cup. “It’s not magic. It’s skill—and patience.”
“Well, whatever it is, I think you’ve just ruined all other beverages for me,” Traveler said, savoring another sip. “Guess I’ll have to stick close if I want my tea fix.”
Her smirk deepened, but there was a softness in her gaze. “You’d better. If you try making this on your own, you’ll probably set something on fire.”
“Rude but fair,” he conceded, grinning.
They sat in companionable silence, sipping their tea as the sun rose higher, chasing away the last traces of the morning chill. For all the uncertainty that lay ahead, the quiet moment felt like a small refuge—a shared space carved out of their unpredictable journey.
“You know,” Traveler said eventually, his tone lighter, “if you ever get tired of battling slavers and trekking across dangerous plains, you could probably make a fortune as a tea merchant.”
Khaz’ara snorted. “And you could make a fortune as my overly talkative assistant.”
“Deal,” he said, holding up his cup in mock toast.
Her laughter was low and brief, but genuine. For a fleeting moment, the tension of the past few days faded, replaced by the growing connection between two unlikely companions. As they packed up and prepared to continue their journey, the warmth lingered—not just from the tea, but from the bond forged over shared struggles and quiet mornings like this one.
As the last remnants of tea swirled in his cup, Traveler leaned back against a weathered stone, his fingers absently tracing the edge of the pendant resting against his chest. The metallic warmth of it felt familiar, grounding, but the intricate lines carved into its surface had always caught his curiosity.
Khaz’ara glanced over as she secured her pack, raising a brow. “You’ve been staring at that thing for a while. Something wrong with it?”
Traveler shook his head, his thumb brushing over the swirling patterns. “No, it’s just... this pendant. It’s been with me since I woke up in this world. It lets me understand every language I’ve come across, but I’ve never really stopped to think about how it works.”
She stepped closer, her curiosity piqued. “Let me see.”
He hesitated for a moment before slipping the cord over his head and handing it to her. The pendant caught the morning light, its etched designs shimmering faintly
As Khaz’ara took the pendant from Traveler’s outstretched hand, something odd happened—her words, sharp and curious just moments ago, dissolved into incomprehensible sounds. Her voice still carried its usual strength, but it was as though the meaning behind the words had been plucked away, leaving only the melody of her tone.
“Shara’kar noz’tharn...” she said, her fingers tracing the intricate carvings on the pendant. Her voice, though unfamiliar in meaning, was soft, almost warm. Traveler blinked in surprise, the realization striking him.
He couldn’t understand her.
The thought was strange and disorienting. Ever since waking in this world, words—regardless of the language—had always filtered effortlessly through his mind, as clear and natural as his own tongue. Now, stripped of that bridge, he could only grasp at her intent through the cadence of her voice and the gentle furrow of her brows as she studied the pendant.
She continued speaking, gesturing lightly to the etched surface, her amber eyes narrowing in thought. Traveler couldn’t help but notice how much softer her tone had become, devoid of its usual edge. Even without understanding her words, he caught a glimpse of her curiosity, her care in handling something that clearly meant a great deal to him.
“Uh...” he began, then stopped, realizing there was little point in trying to respond. Instead, he offered a lopsided grin and gestured for her to continue.
Khaz’ara glanced up, catching the expression on his face. Her lips curved into the faintest smirk, and she gave a light huff that he imagined was amusement. Finally, she handed the pendant back to him, the cool metal pressing against his palm.
“Here,” she said, her voice slipping back into clarity. “It’s fascinating, but it’s definitely not orc work. Too refined. More likely wizard craftsmanship, or... something older.”
Traveler blinked, relief mingling with the return of comprehension. “That was weird. I couldn’t understand a word you said while you were holding it.”
Her brows lifted, curiosity sparking anew. “Really? That thing cut off your translator? Interesting.” She tilted her head, studying him as though gauging his reaction. “How did it feel?”
He hesitated, running his thumb over the pendant’s smooth surface. “Honestly? Kind of strange... but not bad. Even though I couldn’t understand you, your voice still sounded... I don’t know, warm. Like you were trying to figure it out for my sake.”
Khaz’ara’s smirk softened, her expression unreadable for a moment before she shook her head. “Don’t read too much into it, human,” she said, her tone dry but not unkind. “I just like puzzles. Besides, you looked ridiculous trying to follow along.”
Traveler chuckled, slipping the pendant back around his neck. “Fair enough. But that’s another mystery to add to the pile. Why would it block me from understanding you when you were holding it?”
She shrugged, already turning to shoulder her pack. “Maybe it’s selfish. Doesn’t want anyone else to figure out its secrets.”
Traveler laughed, falling into step beside her. “Selfish jewelry. That’s a first.”
As they resumed their trek, his fingers occasionally brushed the pendant’s cool surface, the intricate lines still whispering of possibilities and answers he couldn’t yet grasp. Though the mystery of it remained unsolved, he couldn’t shake the small warmth her tone had left behind—a connection that somehow transcended words.
As Khaz’ara took the pendant from Traveler’s outstretched hand, something odd happened—her words, sharp and curious just moments ago, dissolved into incomprehensible sounds. Her voice still carried its usual strength, but it was as though the meaning behind the words had been plucked away, leaving only the melody of her tone.
“Shara’kar noz’tharn...” she said, her fingers tracing the intricate carvings on the pendant. Her voice, though unfamiliar in meaning, was soft, almost warm. Traveler blinked in surprise, the realization striking him.
He couldn’t understand her.
The thought was strange and disorienting. Ever since waking in this world, words—regardless of the language—had always filtered effortlessly through his mind, as clear and natural as his own tongue. Now, stripped of that bridge, he could only grasp at her intent through the cadence of her voice and the gentle furrow of her brows as she studied the pendant.
She continued speaking, gesturing lightly to the etched surface, her amber eyes narrowing in thought. Traveler couldn’t help but notice how much softer her tone had become, devoid of its usual edge. Even without understanding her words, he caught a glimpse of her curiosity, her care in handling something that clearly meant a great deal to him.
“Uh...” he began, then stopped, realizing there was little point in trying to respond. Instead, he offered a lopsided grin and gestured for her to continue.
Khaz’ara glanced up, catching the expression on his face. Her lips curved into the faintest smirk, and she gave a light huff that he imagined was amusement. Finally, she handed the pendant back to him, the cool metal pressing against his palm.
“Here,” she said, her voice slipping back into clarity. “It’s fascinating, but it’s definitely not orc work. Too refined. More likely wizard craftsmanship, or... something older.”
Traveler blinked, relief mingling with the return of comprehension. “That was weird. I couldn’t understand a word you said while you were holding it.”
Her brows lifted, curiosity sparking anew. “Really? That thing cut off your translator? Interesting.” She tilted her head, studying him as though gauging his reaction. “How did it feel?”
He hesitated, running his thumb over the pendant’s smooth surface. “Honestly? Kind of strange... but not bad. Even though I couldn’t understand you, your voice still sounded... I don’t know, warm. Like you were trying to figure it out for my sake.”
Khaz’ara’s smirk softened, her expression unreadable for a moment before she shook her head. “Don’t read too much into it, human,” she said, her tone dry but not unkind. “I just like puzzles. Besides, you looked ridiculous trying to follow along.”
Traveler chuckled, slipping the pendant back around his neck. “Fair enough. But that’s another mystery to add to the pile. Why would it block me from understanding you when you were holding it?”
She shrugged, already turning to shoulder her pack. “Maybe it’s selfish. Doesn’t want anyone else to figure out its secrets.”
Traveler laughed, falling into step beside her. “Selfish jewelry. That’s a first.”
As they resumed their trek, his fingers occasionally brushed the pendant’s cool surface, the intricate lines still whispering of possibilities and answers he couldn’t yet grasp. Though the mystery of it remained unsolved, he couldn’t shake the small warmth her tone had left behind—a connection that somehow transcended words.
The sun hung high in the sky as Traveler and Khaz’ara crested a small hill, their boots crunching against the dry soil. Beyond the golden plains that stretched out before them, the horizon shifted, revealing the faint outline of a vast mountain range in the distance. The peaks were shrouded in a hazy blue, their jagged silhouettes rising like sentinels guarding the world beyond.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.
Khaz’ara squinted at the sight, her sharp eyes narrowing. “Look closely,” she said, nodding toward the distant mountains. “The livery on Garr’Khan’s slavers—it had the image of a mountain. That kingdom we’re heading for... it might be closer than we thought.”
Traveler let out a slow breath, his gaze lingering on the distant peaks. “If that’s true, we’re heading straight into their domain. We’ll need to be careful.”
Khaz’ara snorted softly. “Careful isn’t enough. You’re human—close enough, at least—but I’m an orc. That alone could make us targets if this kingdom is backing slavers. Add to that the fact you’re a foreigner, and we might as well paint targets on our backs.”
Traveler hummed thoughtfully, his hand brushing against the pendant at his chest. “You’re not wrong. We’ll need a plan if we’re going to walk into that kingdom without drawing too much attention.”
Khaz’ara glanced at him, her expression skeptical. “You’ve got something in mind?”
A slow grin spread across Traveler’s face. “Remember how I infiltrated Garr’Khan’s camp? Pretending to be a wizard worked like a charm. Maybe we could try that again.”
Khaz’ara crossed her arms, her lips twitching as if suppressing a smile. “You’re saying we should bank on the fear and mystique surrounding wizards? Seems risky.”
“Maybe,” Traveler admitted, “but think about it. Wizards are seen as cruel, aloof, and arrogant. People are more likely to avoid us than to ask too many questions. If I can play the part well enough, it might give us the cover we need.”
Khaz’ara tilted her head, considering. “Alright. Say we go with your plan. How are you going to make it believable?”
Traveler rubbed his chin, scanning their surroundings as if the answer might present itself in the wind. “I could sew or paint some arcane symbols onto a cloak. Make it look... mystical. Wizardly.”
Her brow arched. “And your sword? Wizards don’t usually carry weapons like that.”
Traveler hesitated, his hand brushing the hilt at his side. “Good point. Maybe I could disassemble it and keep just the hilt. Make it look like some kind of magical focus.”
“Hmm.” Khaz’ara didn’t seem entirely convinced but nodded. “Fine. And what about your attitude? Wizards are supposed to be pompous and unapproachable. Can you manage that?”
Traveler’s grin widened. “Oh, you mean like this?” He straightened his posture, lifting his chin dramatically, and adopted a haughty tone. “Ah, yes, my dear minion, fetch me my staff of infinite wisdom and bring me the finest tea in all the land.”
Khaz’ara rolled her eyes so hard he was certain she could see the back of her skull. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously good at this,” he quipped, chuckling. “Come on, admit it—I nailed it.”
She shook her head, muttering under her breath, but the corner of her lips twitched upward. “If you insist on trying this, I’ll play along. But don’t push your luck.”
“Noted,” Traveler said with a grin. He sobered slightly, his tone softening. “Thanks, by the way. I know it’s not exactly... your favorite idea. Acting as a guard or servant, I mean.”
Khaz’ara looked away, her jaw tightening slightly. “It’s practical. Doesn’t mean I like it.”
He stepped closer, meeting her gaze earnestly. “For what it’s worth, you’ll be the most intimidating and impressive guard they’ve ever seen. And if anyone doubts it, they’ll regret it.”
Her amber eyes flicked to him, and she smirked faintly. “Flattery won’t save you if this plan goes sideways.”
“Noted again,” he said with mock seriousness, earning another shake of her head.
They spent the next few minutes finalizing the details of their plan. Together, they worked out a few subtle signals—a raised hand for “keep quiet,” a tap on the pendant for “get ready to fight,” and a sharp whistle for “run.” As they rehearsed, Khaz’ara’s sharp tactical mind shone through, ensuring every contingency was considered.
By the time they began descending the hill, the mountains loomed slightly closer, their imposing shapes a reminder of the challenges ahead. Traveler adjusted the strap of his pack, already brainstorming ways to craft his makeshift disguise.
“Alright,” he said, his tone light but determined. “Time to see if I’ve got what it takes to play a wizard.”
Khaz’ara’s smirk returned, sharper this time. “Just don’t forget who’s really keeping you alive out here, ‘wizard.’”
With that, they pressed on, their laughter easing the tension as they walked toward the unknown. Though the road ahead was fraught with danger, their camaraderie—and their carefully laid plans—felt like solid ground beneath their feet
The sun climbed steadily in the sky as Traveler and Khaz’ara moved across the plains, the distant mountains slowly growing clearer with each step. The warm light bathed the rolling grass in gold, a stark contrast to the tension hanging in the air the previous day. For now, the mood between them felt lighter, buoyed by the shared purpose of their journey—and the ease of each other’s company.
Traveler glanced over at Khaz’ara, who was keeping pace beside him, her posture as confident and steady as ever. “So,” he said, breaking the comfortable silence, “if I’m playing the part of an arrogant wizard, should I expect you to bow and grovel at my feet?”
Khaz’ara shot him a sharp side-eye, her lips curling into a smirk. “Grovel? You’ll be lucky if I don’t trip you in the dirt.”
He chuckled, sidestepping dramatically as if to avoid her imagined sabotage. “I take it that’s a no to the groveling, then. But seriously, you’ll need to at least call me ‘Master’ in public. It’s a wizard thing.”
“Master?” She snorted, her tusks flashing as she shook her head. “Don’t push your luck, human. You’ll get ‘sir’ at best, and that’s only if you behave.”
“‘Sir Wizard’ has a nice ring to it,” he mused, grinning. “Or how about ‘Your Mystical Magnificence’?”
Khaz’ara groaned, covering her face with one hand. “This is going to be unbearable.”
Traveler’s grin widened, sensing he was successfully getting under her skin—in the playful way they both enjoyed. “Oh, come on, Commander,” he teased, using the old title that had since become more of a joke between them. “You can admit it. You’ll miss me when I’m off dazzling the masses with my mystical magnificence.”
She lowered her hand, fixing him with an unimpressed stare. “You’ll be ‘dazzling the masses’ from the safety of my shadow, and don’t you forget it.”
He feigned offense, clutching his chest as if she’d wounded him. “Ouch. You wound me with your lack of faith.”
Khaz’ara rolled her eyes, though her smirk softened the gesture. “You’ll survive. For now.”
They walked on, the plains stretching wide around them, and Traveler couldn’t help but enjoy the easy rhythm of their banter. It felt like a much-needed reprieve from the weight of their mission—and an opportunity to peel back some of the walls Khaz’ara kept so carefully constructed.
“So,” he said after a moment, nudging her with his shoulder, “if you could pick any role to play in our little charade, what would it be? A rogue assassin? A mysterious scholar? Maybe a queen in disguise?”
She laughed, the sound low and rich, and shook her head. “I’ll stick to what I know: being the sharp end of the blade. Besides, queens don’t get to punch their problems in the face.”
“Fair point,” Traveler said, grinning. “Although, I can totally picture you in a crown. You’d pull it off.”
Her smirk turned mischievous, and she arched a brow at him. “Careful, or I’ll make you kneel.”
Traveler paused, pretending to consider the idea. “Well, if it’s for Queen Khaz’ara, I might consider it.”
She snorted, reaching out to give his shoulder a light shove. “You’re incorrigible.”
“I try,” he quipped, laughing as he regained his balance. “But seriously, you’re kind of amazing. Between your skills in battle, your leadership back in the village, and now your role as my steadfast guardian—”
“Stop while you’re ahead, Traveler,” she interrupted, though the faintest hint of color touched her cheeks.
“Fair, fair,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “But just so you know, I appreciate you putting up with me.”
Her expression softened, and for a moment, the humor in her eyes gave way to something warmer. “I suppose you’re not the worst company I’ve had on the road.”
“I’ll take it,” he replied, his grin returning.
As the sun climbed higher into the sky, they continued their playful exchange, their steps light despite the long journey ahead. The mountains loomed closer now, their shapes taking on more detail with every mile. Though the challenges waiting for them were formidable, Traveler and Khaz’ara found solace—and a growing closeness—in the moments of levity they shared
The afternoon sun hung high, casting long shadows across the golden plains as Traveler and Khaz’ara continued their trek. The air was warm, yet a faint unease prickled the edges of Traveler’s awareness. That familiar pull in his gut had grown stronger with each step, guiding him forward with an insistent urgency.
He slowed his pace, his gaze scanning the open grasslands. Amid the swaying blades, faint glimmers caught his eye—clusters of wisps, their lights shifting in and out of focus as if they moved with deliberate purpose. They seemed to flow in the same direction they were heading, weaving in intricate patterns like a dance only they understood.
Khaz’ara, noticing his hesitation, stopped and followed his gaze. “What is it?” she asked, her tone laced with curiosity and caution.
Traveler hesitated, watching the wisps swirl and pulse with energy. “Wisps,” he said softly. “They’re... moving differently. Almost like they’re trying to lead us somewhere.”
Khaz’ara narrowed her eyes, scanning the horizon, but her expression turned puzzled. “I don’t see anything. Just grass and sky.”
Traveler frowned. Though the wisps were vivid to him, they remained invisible to Khaz’ara. Still, there was no denying the odd pull in his chest—or the way his usual battle-calm was sharpening his focus. He met her gaze, his voice steady. “I can’t explain it, but I think something is out there. Something important.”
Khaz’ara studied him for a moment, then gave a curt nod. “If you think it’s worth following, I’ll trust your instincts. Just don’t lead us straight into another fight.”
Traveler managed a small smile, though the tension in his chest remained. “Let’s hope not.”
They pressed onward, the wisps’ faint glow flickering in the distance like distant stars. With each step, the air seemed to hum faintly, as if the world itself was holding its breath. Neither spoke, their shared focus tightening as they moved toward whatever awaited them on the horizon.
The air grew heavier as they continued forward, the faint hum becoming more pronounced with every step. Then, as they crested a gentle rise, Traveler froze mid-stride, his breath catching in his throat.
There, standing in the distance against the backdrop of the golden plains, was a creature unlike anything he’d ever seen. Towering like a living monument, it resembled a greater kudu, but its proportions were immense, its body as large as an elephant. Its twisting horns, impossibly long and elegant, shimmered with golden light that shifted and pulsed like liquid fire. The creature’s form radiated majesty and serenity, the very air around it alive with ripples of energy.
Clusters of wisps swarmed toward it in a cascade of color, their tiny forms darting and swirling around its horns as if drawn by an invisible force. The scene was otherworldly, a vision that seemed to defy reality.
“What in the...?” Khaz’ara breathed, her voice barely above a whisper.
Without hesitation, she stepped in front of Traveler, her axe already in hand. Her body tensed, every muscle coiled like a spring, as though prepared to defend him against whatever this being might do. Her stance was instinctual, protective, as if shielding him came as naturally as breathing.
The creature, however, showed no signs of aggression. It stood motionless, its glowing eyes fixed on them with an intensity that felt almost... knowing.
Traveler’s lips quirked into a faint smile despite the awe pounding in his chest. “I appreciate the bodyguard routine,” he murmured softly, his voice light. “But I don’t think it’s here to hurt us.”
Khaz’ara’s grip on her axe loosened, but she didn’t lower it. Her eyes darted between the being and Traveler, her brow furrowed in confusion. Then, as though realizing the intimacy of her protective gesture, a flush of embarrassment colored her cheeks. She huffed, stepping slightly aside but still close enough to intervene if needed.
“You’re hopeless,” she muttered, her tone gruff but tinged with something softer.
Traveler suppressed a chuckle, warmth blooming in his chest. For all her bluster, Khaz’ara’s concern for him was clear, and he found it oddly reassuring. “Hopeless, maybe,” he said quietly, his gaze shifting back to the majestic being. “But lucky to have you around.”
She didn’t reply, though her ears twitched slightly, betraying that she’d heard him. Together, they stood in silence, the monumental creature’s golden glow reflecting in their wide eyes, as the weight of its presence settled over them like a tide.
The majestic being began to move, its massive form gliding forward with an effortless grace that belied its size. Its golden horns shimmered, casting patterns of light across the plains as if the air itself bent to its radiance. Wisps scattered briefly, then rejoined it, orbiting the creature like satellites caught in a cosmic dance.
As it approached, Traveler’s heart pounded, not with fear but with an overwhelming sense of awe. The golden aura that radiated from the being was unmistakable—it mirrored the same glow that he’d felt and seen when channeling his magic. It was as though the creature carried a piece of the same divine essence that had marked his journey since the beginning.
Khaz’ara hesitated, her sharp eyes narrowing as she studied the light enveloping the creature. She tightened her grip on her axe, though she didn’t raise it. “That light...” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “It’s like yours.”
Traveler gave a slow nod, his gaze locked on the being. “I think... it’s connected like I am” he whispered, taking a cautious step forward.
The creature’s eyes, glowing orbs of molten gold, fixed on him with an intensity that felt both profound and unyielding. Then, without moving its mouth, a voice resonated—not in the air, but directly in Traveler’s mind. It was deep, resonant, and layered, as if many voices spoke in unison.
“Traveler,” the voice intoned, reverberating through him like a bell. “I am one of the Guardians of Balance, like you a servant of the Creator, but one bound to this world and its harmony.”
Traveler stiffened, the words ringing with undeniable truth. He felt his translator pendant hum faintly against his chest, enabling him to comprehend the alien cadence of the voice.
The Guardian’s gaze softened slightly, and its aura pulsed in time with its words. “You are an agent of change—a spark cast into the fabric of worlds, destined to challenge stagnation and breathe life into dying civilizations.”
Khaz’ara took a step closer, her stance uncertain but protective. She glanced at Traveler, her expression caught between wonder and suspicion. “What is it saying?”
Traveler hesitated, then relayed the words as best he could. “It says it’s... a Guardian of Balance, bound to this world to preserve its harmony. And that I’m... an ‘agent of change.’ Someone meant to influence civilizations.”
Khaz’ara’s frown deepened, but she stayed silent, letting the creature’s presence speak for itself.
The Guardian continued, its luminous form emanating a quiet strength. “Your journey will cross paths with mine and my brethren. Whenever you need us, we shall answer your call.”
As it spoke, the being raised its head, horns spiraling like tendrils of light. A single rune materialized in the air between them, glowing faintly before etching itself into the fabric of Traveler’s mind—a symbol of elegant curves and sharp angles, ancient yet innately comprehensible.
“This sigil binds our connection,” the Guardian said. “Use it when you need aid, and I shall come.”
Traveler instinctively reached for the rune in his thoughts, feeling its energy settle into him like a quiet flame. “Thank you,” he said, his voice steady despite the enormity of the moment.
The Guardian inclined its head, its golden light flaring briefly. “Walk wisely, Traveler. The world shifts around you, and your choices carry weight. Others will come to you in time, for you are not alone in this task.”
With those parting words, the Guardian began to retreat, The Guardian’s form shimmered one last time, its golden light growing brighter before dissolving into a cascade of wisps. The colorful tendrils swirled upwards, dissipating into the vast sky until only the sound of the wind remained.
Traveler stood frozen, his chest heaving as though he’d just run a great distance. A mixture of awe and exhilaration lit up his features, while beside him, Khaz’ara remained rooted in place, her hand still hovering near her axe. Her sharp amber eyes darted between the fading wisps and Traveler, her expression shifting between stunned disbelief and wary calculation.
“What,” she began, her voice uncharacteristically quiet, “in all the realms was—?”
“Later,” Traveler interrupted, raising a hand to forestall her question. His tone was gentle but firm, the edges of a grin still tugging at his lips. “I promise, around the next campfire, I’ll explain everything. For now…” He gestured ahead, where the golden plains stretched toward the distant mountains. “Let’s just keep moving.”
Khaz’ara frowned, clearly dissatisfied, but she let out a sharp exhale and nodded. “Fine,” she muttered, though her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer, filled with questions she seemed determined to ask later.
With a quick adjustment of her gear, she strode forward, her pace brisk but purposeful. Traveler followed, casting one last glance back at the spot where the Guardian had stood, the glow of its presence still vivid in his mind. He couldn’t shake the weight of what he’d just witnessed—or the new responsibility that seemed to come with it.
For now, though, he would carry it silently, knowing the conversation to come would need the quiet intimacy of the firelight to do justice to the significance of the encounter.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the plains in deep oranges and purples, Traveler and Khaz’ara found a sheltered spot near a cluster of boulders. The remnants of the day’s warmth still lingered in the air, but a cool breeze began to creep across the grasslands. They worked in silence, setting up their small camp with practiced efficiency.
Once the fire crackled to life, casting flickering shadows across their faces, Khaz’ara finally broke the quiet. Her amber eyes reflected the firelight as she leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees. “Alright,” she began, her voice steady but curious. “What in all the realms happened back there? That... thing—no, that Guardian—what did it say to you?”
Traveler paused, staring into the flames as if the answers he sought were hidden within. He let out a slow breath, his expression unreadable. “To explain that,” he said quietly, “I’d have to start at the beginning.”