They all sat upon the open coach; only a fabric roof draped over wooden spines covered the sky. The guard’s back was to everyone, his hands around the reins of sleek black horses, their manes tied back in small, braided buns for the journey. Myra had directed him on route to the Freya River, and he wordlessly complied.

Myra didn't watch him for long. She wanted more positive emotions. Unfortunately, Dacien wouldn't help to provide them.

“Why are we bringing an 8-year-old on this trip?” Dacien asked, staring at Ruby with a perplexed face.

“I'm not 8…” The girl mumbled, choosing instead to watch the world passing by. The sun was close to setting and a few wispy clouds touched the blue sky. Luckily, it wasn't very cold yet.

“Why are we bringing you along, Dacien?” Myra spoke up with her steadfast tone.

Dacien was clearly far too used to it by now. “Do you have some sort of impeccable skill we're unaware of? Like…a black belt in natural survivalism?”

“What?” Myra almost laughed, but kept it inside when she saw how serious Dacien was being.

“I–” Ruby began, fidgeting with a ruffle on her blue dress. She made herself look small in posture, trying to hide. It only made her stand out even more on the already odd carriage ride. “I can do some things…But I am not allowed to do it. If I do, people would treat me like–” She stopped abruptly and sat up straighter. Her eyes flickered to Myra before she turned away.

Myra's heart was beating fast. She'd never met another person afflicted with magic. Someone just like herself. But seeing Ruby so small, so tense and scared, Myra couldn't bring herself to pry. Besides, they had a long journey ahead of them, if Ruby's book was to be believed. They'd have plenty of time to share their stories.

“What things can you do?” Dacien was ever persistent, however. 

Myra kicked his boot and gave him a cold glare. “She doesn't have to share all at once. Read the carriage, Dacien.” She hissed.

Dacien almost pouted and looked away.

They rode in silence for a few fleeting minutes before Dacien shuffled in his seat. He tapped his thumbs against the wooden frame, eyes searching around for nothing in particular. Myra watched with pressed brows.

Eventually, he paused. Myra followed his eyes, across the carriage, until her own lay upon the back of the guard.

Dacien spoke louder, “And who are you?”

The guard didn't move, didn't speak.

“We can't get a name at all?” Silence once again followed. Dacien gave an unsure look to Myra. “Mine’s Dacien. You've obviously met Myra, and this is…” he paused when he couldn't produce a name for the girl. 

She was quiet but shared, “Ruby.”

“Hmm. Although I am confused about why you're here, it's still nice to meet you, Ruby.” He said with a softer tone than before. 

Her eyes watched him cautiously, but she soon shared a smile. Maybe it was Dacien’s curly, golden hair above his clear green eyes and welcoming smile, but it was obvious Ruby fell to the charm Dacien always had. Myra understood because it was his charm that kept Myra from filing a restraining order against his persistent busybody. And yet, she was called the witch.

“Sterling.” The guard spoke in a blunt introduction.

Everyone's attention was back on him.

“Sterling?” Dacien questioned.

“What is it?” The guard asked, tone ever monotonous, but with a glance over his shoulder.

Dacien couldn't believe it, “That's your name?” 

“Of course. That's why I said that.”

Myra couldn't hold her laugh this time; it was only short. “I apologise, please know I'm not laughing at your name. Rather, the situation.” She held her mouth.

Sterling didn't say a word more and chose to focus solely on the road ahead.

Time trickled by like a bubbly, peaceful brook. Soon the sun danced below the horizon, and the moon soaked up the clear night sky above their carriage.

The guard– Sterling had slowed the horses while he lit two oil lamps on the carriage. The lights flickered and shuddered as the horses continued down the dark, gravelly paths. 

Myra shuffled closer to Ruby. A woven blanket covered their laps from the moment the cold rolled through the valleys, and though Ruby was reserved and certainly terrified to be sent on such a journey, she still welcomed the warmth and closeness Myra offered.

Myra tentatively took the book Ruby had brought; it was burgundy in colour. A golden trim laced the edge of the cover and made the outline of a circle in the centre. There was an odd lack of writing. No name, no description, only the circle.

When Myra opened the first page, she was expecting an introduction, maybe the book's contents– possibly that was where the title was hidden.

No, of course not. That would be odd. This book opened up to the torn evidence of ripped out pages, just a few, before exposing blank paper. 

Myra carefully passed over the tears, flicked through a few empty pages, and a few more. Nothing greeted her eyes in the warm, dim light. “What?” She whispered to herself.

Ruby perked up, and she reached out gently for the book. “Strange, right? There's a map, it's just here.” She didn't take the book, instead let it rest on Myra's lap while she opened it to the back.

The very back spread outlined their country, a big country made to look minuscule and walkable on these very pages. The line was drawn across dark-inked paper in gold, like a thread. It began in a town not far from Myra's own in a small hamlet named Freycrest. Myra couldn't think of a single notable thing about such a quiet place. She hadn't been there, but knew it was burrowed in the hills West of her own town. A forested hamlet with the Freya River flowing not far from its borders. 

Ruby watched the page for as long as Myra, until it was obvious Myra wouldn't move on. She looked up to Myra's threaded brows, her eyes staring instead of reading. “We think the book came from Freycrest. It's the only thing that makes sense to us.” Ruby said bashfully. 

Myra gently nodded, then she flicked to the page before.

It was a more detailed map, from the beginning in Freycrest and following the Freya River north. It touched by few other villages and towns, passed through forests and fields until the page’s edge cut it short.

Myra didn't fret; she turned the page to continue following the winding, golden path. It was just one more page turn before highlighting the end goal: a cliffside overlooking the North Sea. 

Myra's eyes grew wide, unblinking despite the cool air sweeping over them. She glanced at her guard, at the horses he controlled, all the while her grip on the book increased.

She didn't realise the ‘Magic of the North’ was so far north it bordered the sea! That's…She's trapped here for so many days it'd turn into weeks! Most likely months! She truly hoped her group was competent enough not to turn this into a whole year's worth of travelling. Travelling through mud and winds and rain and– and the end of summer was right there! She could almost feel it in the air, see it beginning on the trees, or even in the flowers sprouting from fresh grass. 

“Myra?” Ruby softly spoke, her timid nature creeping into her voice. She jumped when Myra slammed the book shut. 

She couldn't look at anyone, suddenly feeling a little bit ill. But she spread a smile across her cheeks, “I'm okay. This is fine.” She laid her elbow on the edge of the carriage and held her chin with her hand, much like how Dacien sat comfortably across from them. But while his eyes had found their way to Myra, she watched the world slowly passing by. As she would do for weeks and weeks to come.