The smoke from the hearth still curled in lazy spirals when Østberg found Lorentz Drakven seated at the small oak table.
The map lay unfurled before him, its faded parchment whispering of distant peaks and shadowed valleys.
A single shaft of light caught the silver thread at the edge of Lorentz's twilight cloak, setting it alight like a promise.
Lorentz looked up as Østberg entered the room. "Thank you for coming," he said, voice low and urgent.
"I know you've tended these gardens for years, kept this home safe, but the world beyond Audhild calls to you, and to me."
Østberg's heart thudded. "Why me?" he asked.
Østberg moving around the table to study the map. Rivers traced in ochre, mountain passes in charcoal, a landscape half-remembered and half-dreamed.
Lorentz's gaze softened as he tapped a jagged line scrawled in the corner of the map. "Your heritage binds you to this path," he said quietly. "The lines of your lineage are woven into these routes—routes your ancestors once walked."
Østberg swallowed. "Every dawn, I wake and wonder if this—" he gestured at the cottage's warmth "—is all I am meant for. Yesterday's laughter by the fireside is already yesterday. My past, my purpose… I have no proof they extend beyond these walls."
Lorentz's eyes softened. "That is precisely why I've come. We seek the Ruins of Eirad—an island fortress, half-sunken in the Sea of Quiet Echoes. There, among the shattered halls, lies the Mirror of Names. It once revealed one's true essence; it was called the Heartglass. Your bloodline once safeguarded it. I need your insight—and you need its reflection."
A tremor ran through Østberg. Memories of whispered lullabies sung by his mother surfaced: tales of a great mirror that revealed one's hidden name, of heroes lost to time.
"I've dreamed of it," he admitted. "Not here, but somewhere beyond, sea-swept ruins and halls half-lit by moonlight."
Lorentz inclined his head. "You and I both felt the pull last night, a void at the edge of dream that threatened to swallow everything. We seek the Ruins of Eirad, an island fortress half-sunken in the Sea of Quiet Echoes. Within its shattered walls lies the Heartglass, the Mirror of Names. It reveals true essence—your true essence."
Østberg exhaled slowly. "I've kept my promise to this cottage, to Uncle and Aunt, but my spirit chafes against these boards. I crave a challenge worthy of what, who, I might become."
Lorentz inclined his head. "This journey will test your strength, your will, and your heart. The road to Eirad is fraught with hidden currents, storm-swollen seas, treacherous reefs, and wards set by those who once feared the Heartglass's power. You will need more than stamina, you will need clarity of purpose."
He paused and met Østberg's gaze. "Do you remember the stars as they were when you first left home? How you felt under that vast canvas, as if the heavens themselves were speaking to you?"
Østberg closed his eyes. A shiver passed through him at the recollection. "I remember… the urgency. As if they sang of something lost."
Lorentz smiled, though a shadow flickered across his face. "Then you know why we must go."
A soft knock at the door announced Arvid's cautious entrance. Mina hovered behind him, worry etched into her features.
Arvid cleared his throat. "Østberg… you're leaving? With this stranger?"
Lorentz rose and bowed. "Uncle Arvid, Aunt Mina, I mean no disrespect. But Østberg's path calls him beyond Audhild's borders. He may yet save us all."
Mina set a hand to her chest. "You seek to steal my nephew away on some fool's errand? He's barely rested from his last journey!"
Arvid's gaze flicked between his nephew and the traveler. "We raised you here, lad. We planted those seeds with you. You don't belong scrambling over crags with a map you barely understand."
Østberg's throat tightened. He stepped between them. "I love this home, every stone and blossom. But I've never known where I truly belong. I must try."
Mina's eyes glistened. "What if you never return?"
He knelt, taking her hand in his. "If I fail, my heart will still carry your love. And if I succeed, I will return to share all I learn."
Arvid looked away. After a long moment, he sighed. "You've always had your mother's stubborn will. Very well. But promise this, you'll come back to us. Promise you'll not lose yourself to these… adventures"
Østberg rose, wrapping his arms around both of them in turn. "I promise."
Mina stroked his hair before letting go. Arvid clapped a firm hand on his shoulder. "Then go with our blessing, though it pains me so."
---
After a hurried breakfast of crusty bread and steaming porridge, flavors tinged with farewell, Østberg retired to pack. He laid out his gear by the window, sturdy boots, a water-filled skin, dried meats, and a small leather-bound journal.
He paused over each item, recalling travels past, the canyon of singing stones, the frost-lashed plains. Each memory he tucked into his pack as solemn as a prayer.
Later, at the garden gate.
Østberg gathered Elara and Famed in a brief embrace,though they would not join him, they had to hear it from his own lips. Elara's gentle smile trembled with unshed tears; Famed's stoic face cracked in concern.
Elara found him there, silent as a new dawn. "I thought I'd find you," she said softly.
She produced a slender silver circlet, entwined with ivy motifs. "My mother made this, leaves of longing, she said, for safe return."
Østberg took the circlet, sunlight catching its filigree. "I'll wear it always." He placed it atop his unruly curls.
Famed lingered in the doorway, arms crossed. "Keep your wits. The world beyond these walls tests more than steel."
A teasing glint in Østberg's eyes. "If I don't return," he said, "I'll send word."
Lorentz called from outside. "Time."
He drew the cottage curtains open to reveal the morning air, crisp, tinged with lavender from distant fields.
Østberg cast one last look at the hearth, the table where so many meals had been shared. Then, with measured steps, he presented
"And when I return," Østberg said, "I will have stories to tell. I will know who I am, and where I fit in this world. Hold the fort for me, will you?"
They nodded. Elara pressed a small locket into his hand. "For luck. So you remember us."
Famed clasped his forearm in silent solidarity.
As the sun dipped toward noon, Østberg slung his cloak over his shoulders and hoisted his pack. Lorentz stood at the path's beginning, map case in hand and a quiet impatience in his stance.
Before they set out, Lorentz produced a simple brass compass, its glass face etched with runes. "This belonged to your mother," he said softly.
"Let it guide you when the path seems lost." He handed it to Østberg, who turned the needle and watched it settle true north.
Østberg turned back once more. Uncle Arvid, Aunt Mina, Elara, and Famed stood together in a ragged line, faces lit by both pride and fear. He raised a hand in farewell.
Then, without a backward step, he turned toward the open road, uncharted, uncertain, but at last his own to claim. The bell of the village church tolled, its deep note rolling over rooftops like a benediction.
I will.
Then he crossed the threshold.
To find them.
---
In the courtyard, Lorentz's loyal gelding snorted. Its flanks glimmered, white as winter's first frost. Lorentz lifted his pack onto the saddle. Østberg stepped forward, sliding the leather compass pouch into his belt. The air hummed with anticipation.
Before mounting, Østberg turned to face his friends once more. Elara's golden hair caught the sun, Famed's banner fluttered gently at his side. Mrs. Thane popped her head from her stall, offering a final nod.
Even Mr. Garen paused mid-swing at the forge, sparks suspended like fireflies.
A hush fell, a collective breath held between farewell and beginning.
Lorentz offered his hand. Østberg took it, solid and sure. He swung onto the saddle behind the traveler, grip firm on Lorentz's cloak.
As they trotted away, the village began its daily stir, carts rattling, voices rising, life resuming its rhythm. Østberg leaned forward to catch one last glimpse of home: the rugged cottage roof, the herb garden's neat rows, Arvid's silhouette framed by the gate.
The road curved between fields of sway- grass and brindle hills beyond. With each step of the horse, his heart both sank and soared. He exhaled, chasing out fear with wonder. A journey lay ahead, of danger and discovery, of old legends and newer truths. And at its end, perhaps, he would meet himself.
The wind carried him forward, and with it, all Audhild's blessings.