It had been two days since the town remembered.
Dyer's Crossing no longer moved in a daze as the rhythm of life returned, slowly but surely.
The same woman swept the same spot near the bakery, but now she paused between strokes, staring down the street like she was seeing it for the first time. The boy with the hollow eyes still pushed his little wooden cart, but today he laughed and talked with the people around him. The Thistle Inn smelled of citrus polish and something baking in the kitchen for the first time in quite a while.
Gus sat at a window with a mug of bitter tea, watching the townspeople shuffle through their morning routines. "Quieter than I expected, but I guess they have been sleeping for a long time."
Joren sat across from him, elbows resting on the windowsill. His hair looked like he'd slept on a stormcloud, but his eyes were still rimmed with tiredness. "They've got a lot to feel again," he said. "Might take time."
Willow came downstairs carrying a folded cloth and a glass jar full of what looked like salt and herbs. She dropped it on the table in front of Gus. "From Theo. He said it would help you a bunch when you make food on the road."
He raised an eyebrow but accepted it without comment.
A few people stood near the chapel, talking in small clusters as old friends. "She's gone." he said after a moment.
Willow's gaze followed his. "Do you think she'll come back?"
"No." Joren said, voice full of certainty.
A soft silence settled over the table. Outside, the chapel bells rang the tune of Westminster Quarters for the first time in ages. It brought a sense of warmth and security to the people.
They didn't need to say it out loud, but they all felt it.
Something had shifted in Dyer's Crossing.
Morning – Dyer's Crossing
The morning light in town felt brighter and warmer now, a stark contrast to the gray and cold feeling it used to have.
The chapel doors had been left open all morning. A few townspeople lingered inside for sermons from the priest who remembered his old role before Lysaire took over his chapel.
Theo had opened the bakery early, and the smell of fresh bread wandered across the cobbled streets, attracting our trio of misfits.
Willow was the first to catch the scent, her eyes half-lidded from a wonderous few nights of sleep. " It smells like actual food today!"
Gus trailed after her, rubbing the back of his neck. "Better than making something myself." he muttered, glad he didn't need to cook this morning.
Joren followed last, slower than the others. He glanced toward the chapel one more time, where a few townspeople sat in pews with folded hands. For the first time in a long while, it looked like they were happy again.
Theo greeted them with a flour-smudged grin. "First batch with the new yeast," he said, sliding a tray onto the counter. "These are on the house, take as many as you can with you."
Willow accepted it like it was treasure. "Perfect," she said.
They sat on the bakery steps beneath the awning, the sun slanting down between the buildings. Crumbs scattered across their laps as they broke into the warm bread. Conversation about their next town broke out between them, deciding on where would be best to go.
"West is too dry this time of year," Gus said, squinting at the sky like it held a map. "Unless you want cracked lips and sunburn."
Willow shook her head. "I don't want that. Maybe somewhere with some music would be good, or maybe somewhere without a river."
Joren was quiet for a long moment before answering. "There's a place called Gloryhollow that might fit those wants. It doesn't seem like it is too far from here, so it shouldn't be long."
"Gloryhollow," Willow repeated, testing the name like it was a flavor on her tongue. "Sounds like a weird name..."
"Sounds like our commander has chosen the next destination." Gus said with his signature grin across his face.
Joren gave a quiet snort, shaking his head. "I'm not a commander."
"You're the one with the map," Willow said, tearing off another piece of bread. "That makes you something."
"Navigator, maybe," Gus added. "Either way, you started this adventure, we just tagged along."
Joren gave a faint smile. His quiet life in the village has become something greater. He wondered if it would continue to grow bigger the farther they went.
They lingered on the steps for longer than they needed to. People passed them now and then, many giving them thanks or telling them their stories they had forgotten. It was like they were heroes to the people of this town, and perhaps they really were.
"We really leaving today?" Gus asked, finishing the last of his roll. He wiped his hands on his pants, leaving faint streaks of flour and crumbs. "Feels weird, you know. Like we should be doing something more or something."
Willow let her hands prop her up behind her back. "We did plenty. This isn't our town to rebuild, that's their job now."
Joren nodded slightly, his gaze drifting to the crooked rooftops and narrow alleys that had once felt like a trap. Now, they just looked like a town waking up. "They'll be alright," he said. "Might take time, but they're starting to feel again."
A group of children darted down the street, laughing as they chased a stray dog that didn't seem to mind the attention. One of the kids waved at them in passing, and Willow gave a shake of her head as she smiled back.
Willow leaned her head back and squinted at the sky. "They'll probably tell stories about us. Make it all bigger than it was and give us a reputation."
Gus snorted. "Let 'em. Maybe it'll get us a free meal or two somewhere down the line."
Willow stretched her arms behind her, letting the sun warm her face. "They'll say Joren lit up the whole town with starlight. That Gus fought off the nightmare with a cannon made of porcelain. And that I…" she paused, grinning, "Turned into some terrifying beast and scared the spell right out of everyone."
Joren was the last to stand, eyes looking to the stream running through the town. "Yeah," he said softly. "Let's see what's waiting for us."
Afternoon – Outskirts Past Dyer's Crossing
The sun had climbed high enough to paint the hills ahead in a soft gold, blurring the horizon where sky met earth. The trail out of Dyer's Crossing wound gently between low hills and rust-colored stones, the road just enough to be considered a road.
Joren walked ahead, his boots scuffing the dust with each step.
Willow walked with her arms outstretched, balancing on the uneven path like it was a tightrope. Her bag bounced against her hip with each exaggerated step. "So," she asked, "what's the first thing we do when we get to Gloryhollow?"
"Find a place that serves food without mystery fog or memory magic," Gus answered immediately. "And a bed."
"No puppets either," Willow added, glancing sideways at Joren.
They crested a small rise in the trail, and the wind picked up, brushing the tall grass into waves. The road stretched forward like a landing strip. The weather was starting to pick up around them, wind blowing even harder than it had so far.
A low rumble echoed in the distance, subtle at first, but enough to catch their attention. Joren slowed his pace and glanced upward. The clouds had gathered almost without notice, stitched tightly across the sky in bands of gray.
"That doesn't look like welcoming weather." Gus muttered, squinting against the wind as his coat flapped behind him.
Willow narrowed her eyes, then tilted her head slightly. "There's a storm in that," she said. "Not a nice one, either."
The wind tugged harder now, pulling at their sleeves and scattering loose gravel across the road. The golden warmth of earlier was fading fast, swallowed by the quick-moving shadow of the clouds above. A storm was brewing, and it would not treat these three kindly.