The road sloped downward as the day wore on, the scrub giving way to richer, heavier soil. The air grew damp, carrying the scent of silt and growing things — thick and alive after so long in dust and stone.
They crested a final low rise, and there it was:
The river.
Wide, slow-moving, its surface shimmered under the fading sun. Willows bent low along the banks, their roots clawing into the muddy edge. A small, battered dock stretched into the water — the wood sun-bleached and warped by years of heat and flood.
Its banks were braided with reeds that hissed gently in the wind, and birds — small and silver-throated — darted low over the surface. In the distance, the call of something larger echoed through the trees. The air smelled like moss and copper, thick with the promise of rain upstream.
And standing at its end, arms folded across his chest, waited a man.
Broad-shouldered and weathered, his clothes were rough and patched but serviceable. His boots were caked with dried mud, and the hilt of a knife stuck out casually from his belt.
The dockmaster.
As Rasha and Talo approached, he spat into the dirt and fixed them with a hard stare.
"This ferry's for the merchants of the upper ring of the Fire Lands only," he said flatly. "Five Spars each, or one Lumina for passage."
Talo stiffened slightly beside her, his hand brushing his belt — not toward his weapon, but in quiet realization. They didn't have that kind of money. Not even close.
Rasha's brow furrowed. "What's a Spar?"
The dockmaster raised an eyebrow, amused. "Let me guess. You've only ever handled Specs?"
She didn't answer — the silence enough of a reply.
"Figures," he muttered.
Before they could say more, the dockmaster sneered. "You two don't look like traders. And we don't let lowborns or curs onto our boat."
Rasha and Talo exchanged a brief, uncertain glance.
"Cur?" Rasha echoed under her breath.
Talo's brow twitched slightly, but neither of them asked. The way the man had said it made it clear: they wouldn't like the answer.
The dockmaster jerked a thumb upriver.
"If you're so set on crossing," he said, voice rough, "you can head north a ways. Day, day and a half's walk. River narrows up there. There's a footbridge."
He paused, eyes narrowing.
"But you cross there, you're stepping into the Forsaken Realm. Not deep, but close enough. Two days' hard travel and you'll come out the other side... if you're lucky."
His mouth twisted into something like a smile, but there was no humor in it.
"There's a holding about a day past the bridge," he added, almost as an afterthought. "Run by a man named Merrick. Might be work there."
There was an edge to his voice now. Something unpleasant in the way it curled at the end — not quite a threat.
The dockmaster turned and walked back toward the ferry without another word, boots thudding against the planks.
Dismissed.
They stood for a while longer than necessary, neither willing to be the first to move.
A dragonfly skimmed past, its wings humming just above the water's edge.
Rasha's fingers curled at her side, nails pressing faint half-moons into her palm.
She didn't look back at the dockmaster.
Rasha and Talo stood in silence, the river murmuring at their feet.
"Well," Talo muttered, "guess we're walking."
Rasha nodded, her eyes lingering a moment on the rippling water before she turned her back to the ferry. The man, the price, the insult — all of it.
They moved on.
The dirt road wound upward away from the dock, curling along the edge of the riverbank. The sky was darkening to gold behind them.
The journey wasn't over — it was only changing shape.
They walked in silence, their boots scuffing against packed earth as the river murmured beside them. The gold light of early evening softened everything — stones, branches, even the tension in their shoulders.
After a while, Talo adjusted his pack and spoke, his voice practical.
"We should take a few days. Maybe a week or two. Head slow toward the footbridge. Gather supplies. Fix anything that's wearing out. Make sure we've got more than enough food."
Rasha gave a dry chuckle. "Sounds like we're preparing for war."
He shrugged. "Might as well be. If even half the stories are true, the Forsaken Realm won't welcome us with open arms."
She raised an eyebrow. "You really think it's that bad?"
Talo looked ahead, eyes scanning the length of the winding trail.
"I don't know. Maybe it's just old tales. Maybe not. But even if the danger's exaggerated... the dark veins aren't a story. And we're headed straight toward them."
She nodded slowly.
"Fair enough."
They walked a bit further before he continued.
"Along the way, we can gather herbs, set some traps. I can show you how to work leather and hide. We've got what we need to make rope, pouches, bindings."
Rasha looked at him curiously. "Bags? Shoes?"
Talo smiled faintly.
"Exactly. Anything we can craft now is one less thing we'll wish we had later."
The road sloped slightly as they walked, the air thick with the scent of water and wild earth. Insects flitted between tall reeds near the trail's edge. The wind shifted and carried the faint cry of a heron downstream.
His voice carried low as he taught her more.
"Some herbs boost energy, others stop bleeding. Thicker hides can be used for light armor. Bones? Carve them right, and they'll make good tools — or better weapons."
Rasha didn't interrupt, taking it all in. The details mattered now — not just for survival, but for ownership. For belonging in her own strength.
"You're serious about this," she said softly.
Talo stopped walking for a moment, facing her squarely.
A breeze moved through the tall grass around them, ruffling the edge of Rasha's tunic. The hush between them wasn't empty — it was full of everything they hadn't said aloud since stepping away from the dock: the insult, the cost, the shadow of what lay ahead.
He didn't say her name again. He didn't need to.
"Rasha... when we cross that bridge, it's going to be different.
I don't know what we'll find. But I do know I need to know you're ready. Not just trained — prepared. And I need to be ready too."
She met his gaze. There was no fear in it.
Only understanding.
And resolve.
"I will be," she said simply.