The ground crunched beneath his boots. The earth softened by the misting rain, hardened by the stones along the path to the village. His boots, worn down by time, trudged through the rain towards the town.

The wind howled, turning trees onto their side and flipping their leaves. His coat struggled to keep out the cold and protect him from the frigid rain. The summer heat held nothing on the brewing storm. All you could do was pull your coat closer and keep walking.

The whispering mist soon transformed from desert land to a bustling village. He kept his head turned to the ground; his face covered by the hood of his cloak. The dusk of the evening sky signaled the lighting of the lanterns. Especially one.

The Nordic Inn was buzzing with life tonight. He thought, weaving between drunk bodies. An obnoxious man laughed in the background as Ravin made his way to the bar, taking a seat on an empty barstool.

He reached forward, grabbing one of the specifically placed mugs sitting along the edge of the bar. Placemats, expertly crafted into the wood, accented by delicately placed designs. All handcrafted. You couldn’t expect any less from the owner.

Ravin flipped the mug right side up, signaling he was ready to be served. It took less than a minute for the barista to notice his cup. She smiled sweetly at him, stopping in front of him on her way back to the bar.

“Hello, handsome. What can I get for you?” she said, taking his cup.

“A Karole, if you would,” Ravin replied. Without a pause, she nodded.

“Sure thing, Hun.” She went about making his drink, glancing up at him. He raised his eyebrow at her.

“So, how did the shipment go?” She asked, her voice a decibel lower than before. He sighed, his shoulders lowering.

“That bad, huh?”

He nodded. His eyes darkened.

“They took it all after I made the delivery. They waited until I was well and gone before they attacked. I heard about it when I arrived this morning,” Ravin explained. She shook her head, setting his drink in front of him. He took a long drink from the mug.

“There was nothing you could’ve done- “she began.

“But there was. I was not but a day’s journey away. If I had… “he interrupted with vigor.

“If you had, there would still be a day’s worth of travel ahead of you. There wouldn’t have been enough time to make it back either way,” she reasoned, a glint of sadness in her eyes.

He resigned, his anger deflating within him. She was right, Ravin thought, raising the glass to his lips. She moved off to assist the other customers.

“When is the ship due?” Ravin asked as she returned. She paused, visibly startled, her hand still from polishing a glass.

She shook her head after regaining her composure slightly.

“You can’t possibly be thinking of going back out there.” He looked up, staring her in the eye. She swore under her breath.

“Three months.” She spoke. “The Hyscax will make port in Calean up the coast near Pheania.”

“What happened to the Harbor Port?” he asked, confused.

The door of the Inn slammed open, bouncing off the opposing wall. A man cast a quick glance over the growing crowd. The palm of his hand lay flat against the door as he shut it behind him. The other loosely gripped the handle of his sword, one of the few weapons hanging from his waist.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ravin watched the newcomer stride past the bar to a table fit for six. Secluded on the far side of the tavern, the man sat alone in wait.

From his seat, it was easy to see the soldier. His hair was almost black in color, dusted with streaks of white. Frown lines accented by the crows’ feet around his eyes. A telltale sign of his age and character.

The armor plates decorating his upper body told another story. The worn-out metal was shaped and reshaped many times. Its form held true in battle after years of use. The chest plate engraves with a setting sun. Three lines, each one shorter than the last descending from below the horizon.

Commander ranking. Ravin’s mind informed him. One of the northern kingdoms, no less. What is a man of his stature doing this far south?

“I wonder why one of the Silver Knights is here,” she said, voicing his thoughts. Ravin shrugged. The movement hinted at the slight shift of his cloak.

She turned away from the stranger, reaching behind her to grab a full pint. “Well, what better way to quench curiosity than to kill the cat,” she said, her lip curving up slightly. Mischief glinting in her eyes.

Ravin glanced up at her, protesting. His words went unnoticed as she strolled over to the commander.

She never left his sight. Not when she approached the table, gaining the Commander’s attention. His hood hid his prying eyes from unwanted stares. He frowned, watching her smile and laugh effortlessly. An uneasy feeling settled in his gut.

Not when her smile didn’t reach her eyes. Or when she forced her body to relax as another customer came a little too close as they passed by her. Her hand clenched tightly around the pitcher. She glanced back as the man moved away, catching Ravin’s stare.

A slight shake of her head, and Ravin’s hand retreated from the hilt of his sword. Enough not to be seen as a threat, but that meant nothing in this world. A weapon doesn’t define how dangerous a person can be.

One may look innocent, frail to the touch, a delicate soul a breath away from withering. Their appearance hides the wolf behind its closed doors. Then there is the possibility of the opposite being true as well. That what people appear to be is what they truly are.

No ulterior motives. No hidden agenda lies to cover up the truth. Just people being themselves.

Malae is one of the few remaining people that are still good. She wears a mask because she has to. Her job is to please people so that the Inn can survive. Working with people to get paid is her area of expertise.

Though the eye may deceive, for such a sprite, she packs quite the punch. The tip of his lip curled at the thought. Not far from how they met if he recalled correctly.

A momentary occurrence that caused a monumental impact. A simple fact of life.

Yea, right. Nothing is ever that simple.

Careful eyes watched Malae move on to wait on other tables before heading back to the bar. She walked with ease, seemingly unfazed by the encounter. Her stance told otherwise, tension in her shoulders, her back facing the wall never leaving it exposed.

Malae released the shaky breath she had been hiding. Her pounding chest fighting for control. Panic searing through her veins like the river's current. Unyielding in its course.

A shift in her vision caught her attention. She glanced up.

Ravin reached out his hand, fist closed in its approach. She looked at him, eyebrows scrunched together.

Her answer, a light lift of his chin hinting to the enclosed hand. Her eyes widened then softened. Ravin gently placed the precious cargo into her outstretched palm.

"Thank you, Ravin." A small smile grew as the light in her eyes grew brighter. Tucking the bag into the pocket of her apron for safe keeping.

He nodded, drinking the last bit from his cup. As he stood, he dropped a few coins onto the counter. She shook her head at him.

"Overpaying as usual," she said, adding up the coins.

"Consider it a tip," Ravin replied, tipping an imaginary hat to her. Malae called out as he turned to leave.

"Please be careful."

He smiled, a slight twitch of the lips, and turned away.

Within the hour, the town vanished from sight. Upon his gaze laid bountiful hills and a distant forest. He tracked across the curves of the land. Each hill and valley scarred into his brain, a journey he had made countless times.

Each turn would reveal its stories in time, but for now, he would follow the trial he had left behind. It had been some time since he had followed the rugged trail of mush on the ground. His efforts were not folly. Though he had trekked the trail a long time, he thought in his mind; he has never taken the same path twice. Around every corner was a new mystery waiting to be discovered and yet, he doubted he would find them all. Doesn’t matter how long you’ve been there, the ground, the sky, the sea, they have been there long before man and would be there long after. Ever changing.

It wouldn’t be long before the placid hills would grow into mountains of trees and brush. He stared as he took in the sight of the forest. The tree’s roots run deep beneath the dirt with their leaves high in the sky as they reach towards the heavens, daring to touch the stars.

Always striving to go higher as if gravity didn’t exist. It is in nature’s code to evolve, to become something greater than one’s self. A seedling transforming into a towering oak, one may say. Designed with purpose and intent, planned from the start.

A plan that has yet to stop succeeding. The trip through the woods would be easy. Ravin couldn’t say the same about what would happen next.

Before Ravin knew it, two weeks had passed by swifter than the forest. The blue sky darkened the closer he got to the edge. Night had fallen by the time the valley came into view.

The dread of the Endless came to a standstill at its sight. The land fell quiet in their wake. A false sense of security, Ravin thought.

He hunched down behind a tree mere feet away from the border. Crouched low to the ground, his cloak blending in with the darkness. Its length was just shy of his calf shielding him from the wilderness.

The design is sufficient in allowing him to slip past the guard tower. Right underneath their noses. It made the trek through the woods seem like child’s play.

Though the towers were few and far between, the land was devoured in traps. Hidden amongst the grass was the key to Ravin’s plan.

The guard towers lay on the border of the Endless Forest and Mozar, a deadly prison of magic users. Doesn’t make sense, does it? A land created to prevent prisoners from escaping and unwanted visitors had no way to cross the valley. Unless there was another way in.

A passageway below ground would have been ideal for the guards to transport the prisoners. Finding it would’ve taken longer than Ravin would have liked. If such a thing existed.

Unfortunately for Ravin, it was common knowledge that the entrance to the fortress of Mozar lay above the ground. The only way in or out was through a heavily guarded wall. The guards were some of the deadliest people alive, mind you. People of skill versus the people of magic weren’t a place to go.

Luckily for them, that wasn’t where he was heading. There was another place on his agenda and this place is just as tricky to get into as the last. Tricky, but not impossible.

Ravin ducked silently, hiding in the grass waiting for the guards to leave. Carefully tracking their movements as they passed by him unknowingly. By the time he had counted to ten, they were out of earshot, and so was he. Following them around the bends and curves as slow as he dared, they lead Ravin past the maze of traps.

For an entirely idiotic reason, allowed him to evade one of the most powerful militias this side of the coast. A simple shift change was all he needed, and once the initial danger had passed, Ravin turned to the valley. If he had stayed a moment more, Ravin would be spending the rest of his days behind bars in an undisclosed location.

A petty alternative to the truth.