The morning sun filtered weakly through the cracks in the shutters, casting jagged shadows across Zara's workshop. She hadn't slept not really. After Master Kofi left, she'd spent hours staring at the crumpled map, trying to convince herself it was meaningless. But no matter how many times she smoothed it out or turned it upside down, the winding trail leading out of the city refused to disappear. Worse still, every time she looked at it, fragments of last night's vision resurfaced the glowing river, the crystalline trees, the whispers carried on the wind.
By dawn, exhaustion had settled heavily over her shoulders, but there was no time to rest. Today was market day in Olorun, and merchants would soon arrive clamoring for updated trade routes and maps of newly discovered territories. Maps were currency here, and Zara's apprenticeship depended on her ability to produce them even if hers came with unsettling side effects.
She lit a fresh candle and began sketching another draft of the city square, determined to focus on something mundane. Anything to distract herself from the forbidden land haunting her thoughts.
A sharp knock at the door shattered her concentration. Before she could respond, it swung open, revealing two figures silhouetted against the bright sunlight streaming in from the hallway. One was tall and broad-shouldered, his face obscured by a hood pulled low over his brow. The other was shorter, wiry, and wore a scar that ran diagonally across his cheek a mark that spoke of battles fought and won.
"Zara?" the taller man asked, his voice gruff but measured.
Her stomach tightened. How did they know her name? "Who's asking?"
The shorter man stepped forward, closing the door behind him with a soft click. His eyes darted around the room, taking in the scattered papers, half-finished maps, and shelves lined with inkpots and quills. When his gaze landed on Zara, he smirked. "We've been watching you."
"Watching me?" Her voice wavered despite her best effort to sound calm. "Why?"
The taller man removed his hood, revealing sharp features and piercing gray eyes. He reached into his cloak and withdrew a folded piece of parchment, which he placed on the desk between them. Zara froze. It was one of her maps one she'd discarded weeks ago during a particularly vivid bout of visions.
"How did you get this?" she demanded, snatching it up.
"That doesn't matter," Scarface interjected, leaning casually against the wall. "What matters is what you can do. You draw things you shouldn't know about. Places nobody's supposed to find."
Zara's throat went dry. She glanced at Master Kofi's empty chair, wishing desperately for his guidance. These men weren't ordinary travelers they reeked of danger, their weapons concealed but unmistakable beneath their cloaks. Still, she forced herself to meet their gazes head-on. "I don't know what you're talking about."
The taller man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as though dealing with a stubborn child. "Don't play dumb. We know about your… gift. Or curse, depending on how you look at it." He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "And we need you to guide us."
"Guide you where?" she snapped, clutching the edge of the desk to steady herself.
"To Elarion."
The word hit her like a punch to the gut. She hadn't spoken its name aloud not even to herself but somehow, these strangers knew. They knew about the glowing forest, the shimmering river, the place that existed only in her visions and the cursed maps she created. Panic bubbled up inside her, threatening to spill over.
"I can't," she said quickly, shaking her head. "I'm just an apprentice. I don't"
"You don't have a choice," Scarface interrupted, his tone icy. "Either you come willingly, or we take you by force. And trust me, you won't like the alternative."
For a moment, silence hung heavy in the air. Zara's mind raced. These men weren't bluffing; she could see it in their cold, calculating eyes. If she refused, they'd hurt her or worse, go after Master Kofi. She couldn't let that happen.
"What do you want with Elarion?" she asked finally, stalling for time.
The taller man exchanged a glance with Scarface before answering. "That's none of your concern. All you need to know is that we're willing to pay handsomely for your cooperation. Gold, jewels, whatever you desire."
Zara laughed bitterly. "You think I care about gold? Do you have any idea what happens when I use my curse? It tears me apart literally. I lose pieces of myself every time I draw something I shouldn't."
Scarface shrugged, unfazed. "Sounds like a small price to pay for survival."
Survival. The word echoed in her mind, sharp and biting. Wasn't that what she'd been doing all along surviving, day by day, vision by vision? And yet, something about their offer gnawed at her. Not the promise of riches, but the implication that they knew more about her curse than she did. Maybe, just maybe, they could lead her to answers.
"All right," she said quietly, surprising even herself. "But if I agree to help you, you leave Master Kofi out of this. Deal?"
The two men exchanged another glance, then nodded. "Deal."
As they ushered her out of the workshop, Zara took one last look at the cluttered space she called home. She didn't know what awaited her beyond the city walls or whether she'd ever return. But deep down, a part of her wondered if this journey might finally reveal the truth behind her curse.
Whatever the cost, she was ready to find out.