The village gate clanged shut with a finality that echoed not only through the crisp morning air but deep within Elos’s very bones. Each step he took away from Veridia was a liberation, a defiant assertion of his spirit. Yet, it was also a step into an immense, echoing silence he had never truly known.

He went towards the cave where his books and scrolls were hidden. He had carefully considered his need for a reliable companion and pack animal for his impending journey. After searching through the available livestock in Veridia, he had purchased a packing goat. She was a female, and although a bit older than he initially wanted, she was very gentle and surprisingly smart.

She still had plenty of milk, which he knew would be a valuable asset on his travels, both for nourishment and for trade if needed. Her calm demeanor and intelligence made him hopeful that she would be a steadfast and loyal companion.

He had named her “Ivy,” a simple, sturdy name that suited her. Along with Ivy, Elos had invested some of his remaining coins in a sturdy, leather saddle, designed not for riding, but for carrying supplies. It had numerous straps and pouches, perfect for securing his precious books, scrolls, and his carefully collected provisions and herbs.

He had also obtained some sacks of feed for Ivy, enough to last for several days, knowing that grazing might be sparse at the beginning of his journey. He left her in the cave, which they had previously used as a goat shelter, a place he hoped would provide both protection and familiarity. He made sure she had plenty of freshwater and the feed, hoping no predators would find a way to get past the cave entrance.

He planned to stay there a few nights, not only to rest and organize his supplies, but also to build a bond with Ivy and to carefully consider which direction he wanted to travel, taking into account the terrain and the potential sources of food and water along the way.

For days, he had walked, a vague, uncertain path leading him deeper into the wild heart of Vasal. He had chosen no direction, merely followed the fading sunlight, then the faint gleam of the twin moons, letting his feet carry him away from the oppressive golden glare of the temple.

And, of course, Ivy followed along, sometimes stubbornly lagging behind to nibble on what appeared to Elos to be entirely inedible rocks. "Ivy, come along now! It's not a salad bar out here!" Elos would exasperatedly call, only for Ivy to fix him with a pair of surprisingly intelligent, slightly judgmental eyes before reluctantly trotting to catch up.

The familiar, comforting sounds of village life – the distant bleating of goats (ironically), the chatter of children, the rhythmic clanging of the blacksmith’s hammer – had dissolved behind him like morning mist. Now, the only sounds were the whisper of wind through pines, the distant howl of an unseen creature, the disconcerting crunch of unfamiliar earth beneath his worn boots, and the occasional thump of Ivy's head hitting his backside when she got too close.

He was lost. Truly, irrevocably lost. The lush, familiar forests near Veridia had given way, gradually, to a landscape of stark contrasts: soaring, jagged mountains, their peaks dusted with snow even in this relatively warm season, rising abruptly from sparse, resilient forests clinging to rocky slopes. The ground was often uneven, treacherous, littered with loose scree and gnarled roots.

And every time Elos stumbled, Ivy seemed to find it uproariously funny, emitting a series of short, snorting bleats that sounded suspiciously like laughter. His satchel, once feeling heavy with the weight of expectation, now felt almost impossibly light, a stark symbol of his utter lack of provisions beyond a handful of dried berries he’d scooped up in a hurry.

“Honestly, Ivy,” Elos sighed, “you’d think with your apparent knack for finding the absolute worst forage, you’d stumble upon something useful!” Ivy just blinked at him and chewed thoughtfully on a particularly thorny bush. Nevertheless he foraged all he could along the way.

The sun, when it broke through the perpetual mountain shadows, felt colder, less nurturing than the one depicted in the temple. This was a raw, indifferent world, utterly unlike the manicured gardens of Veridia.

A gnawing emptiness had begun to settle in his stomach, missing his beloved family, praying that he may be worthy to keep their memory always light in his heart. This void was far more potent than the philosophical emptiness he’d felt within the temple walls. Food. Shelter. Water. These primitive, undeniable needs now screamed louder than any theological debate.

And Ivy, sensing his discomfort, kept nudging him with her head, as if to say, “Well, aren’t you clever, then? Figure something out!” “Yes, yes, Ivy, I’m working on it,” Elos muttered, pushing her gently away.