After walking for what felt like forever, Altherion finally reached the edge of the Dead Forest. The sun was starting to sink behind the trees, painting the sky with soft orange and purple.
His clothes were dirty, his boots were muddy, and he smelled... like someone who had survived three monster attacks, a maze of fog, and the trauma of being almost eaten.
But ahead of him was something new.
A city.
Tall stone walls stood proud and quiet, lined with strange purple banners that flapped gently in the wind. The gates were open, watched by two guards in shiny black armor. Behind the walls, he could see rooftops, towers, and the soft flicker of lights.
Altherion narrowed his eyes.
"Daltheria?" he muttered to himself. "Wait... this name sounds familiar…"
He frowned, digging through the foggy mess that was his memory. Yes. He had heard this name before. It was one of the main cities in the game. But that was it. No details. Why? Because he had skipped everything.
He sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Why did I do that…?"
Still, there was no use crying over skipped cutscenes. He had found a city, and maybe, just maybe he could find help.
He stepped past the guards, who didn't even glance at him. Inside, the city felt… off. Not in a bad way, just strange. Like walking into someone's house for the first time. The stone streets were clean, but too quiet.
People moved around in tidy clothes, greeting each other with soft nods. Every building looked like it had been designed by a perfectionist symmetrical, elegant, but cold.
Altherion scratched his head. "Okay. I officially have no idea where to go."
That's when he heard it. A soft voice behind him.
"You look lost, traveler."
He turned.
Standing there was a woman unlike anyone he had seen in this world so far.
She wore a black and white dress and a veil covered her dark hair. Her eyes were a gentle lavender color, and her expression was calm, almost too calm.
In one hand, she held a small lantern with a violet flame.
Altherion blinked.
"Uh… yeah. I guess I am."
The woman smiled warmly. "Then perhaps I can help. My name is Liesette Wundra. I studied at the Grand Historical Institute of Daltheria. I know this city quite well."
Altherion felt like the heavens had answered his prayers. A local guide! A friendly one! And wait.
"Wundra? Liesette Wundra?" he asked, his voice rising with surprise.
She tilted her head slightly, a bit amused. "Yes. Have we met before?"
He shook his head quickly. "No, no! I just… heard of you. I think. Somewhere."
Of course he had. She was a 4-star playable character in the game. Support type. Beautiful.
"Well," Liesette said, turning gracefully. "If you'd like, I can show you around the city. It's not too large, but it has its own charm."
Altherion nodded. "That would be great. Thank you."
They began walking, and Liesette spoke as they moved.
"This is the Main Road, it cuts through the entire city. The buildings here are mostly shops and public spaces. Over there is the Market Plaza, where traders sell spices, potions, books, and sometimes even relics."
Altherion looked around, trying to memorize everything. "Looks… organized."
Liesette chuckled. "Daltherians love structure. Every brick is placed by the city guild's design. If one building is a centimeter off, they'll tear it down and rebuild it."
"Sounds exhausting," Altherion muttered.
She led him past a fountain, where children played, and then towards a small square with a tall tower.
"That's the Tower of Silence, it was built centuries ago to honor those lost in the War of Twisted Skies."
Altherion tilted his head. "That sounds dramatic."
"Oh, very. Lots of lightning, floating castles, mad kings standard history stuff."
Altherion laughed, and Liesette smiled. She seemed pleased with herself.
They continued walking, and Altherion couldn't help but admire how confident she was.
Every street, every building, she knew something about it. She spoke with pride, like a walking library dressed in silk. He found himself praising her without even realizing it.
"You're really knowledgeable,"
Liesette's eyes sparkled. "Thank you. I always enjoy sharing what I know."
She turned to him with a soft smile.
"And you… You're not from around here, are you?"
Altherion froze for a moment. "Uh… not really."
"Well, no worries. Daltheria welcomes all. Even the confused ones."
He chuckled again.
Somehow, walking next to her made the city feel less cold. More alive. He still had no idea what he was doing here, or what was going to happen next, but at least for now, he wasn't alone.
And Liesette Wundra, the beautiful, brilliant historian, was more than happy to help.
***
As they walked deeper into Daltheria, the streets narrowed and the buildings grew taller, leaning over the path like silent watchers.
The stone road was cracked in places, but well-tended enough to show that people still lived here, people who cared, or at least pretended to.
Liesette's lantern glowed softly in her hand. The violet flame flickered, casting a gentle warmth against the cold walls.
"You said you studied history?" Altherion asked.
"I did, Daltheria is the best place in the world for that. Or, at least, it used to be. I was one of the top students at the Grand Historical Institute."
Altherion scratched his head. "What do you study at a place like that? Just… old stuff?"
She gave a light laugh. "Not just old stuff. Stories. Maps. Rituals. The ways people used to see the world, and how they changed it. We don't just read scrolls, we study the patterns."
"Patterns?"
"History repeats itself," Liesette said, brushing her gloved fingers along the stone wall. "But never in the same shape."
Altherion didn't quite understand that, but he nodded anyway.
They passed a weathered statue standing in a quiet corner. It was shaped like a woman holding a scroll in one hand and a broken hourglass in the other. Moss covered her face.
"What's this one?" Altherion asked, pointing.
Liesette hesitated. "An old philosopher. One of the early thinkers of Daltheria. Some say she could count time backward."
"Backward?"
"She wrote about memory like it was something you could walk into. A place, not a thought. Poetic nonsense, probably. But the city built a statue for her anyway."
Altherion narrowed his eyes at the mossy figure. "You sure know a lot."
"I studied for years," Liesette said, lifting her chin proudly.
They came to a quiet garden between two buildings. The flowers there were pale and strange glowing slightly in the low light. A stone bench sat in the center.
"Let's rest, you've had a long day." Liesette offered.
Altherion didn't argue. He sat beside her, still watching the flowers.
"You live here?" he asked.
"In a way, Daltheria is the kind of place you never really leave."
"That sounds… haunting."
She laughed gently. "Everything here sounds haunting, doesn't it?"
A pause settled between them. Then Altherion spoke again. "So… do people here still believe in the old things? Gods or… spirits?"
Liesette glanced at him, her eyes unreadable. "Some do. Some pretend. Most just survive."
"And you?"
"I believe in the power of stories, sometimes they're the only thing holding the world together."
Her words felt heavy. Too heavy for a quiet garden. Altherion shifted on the bench.
"You speak like someone who's seen too much."
"Maybe I have," Liesette said softly.
Then, as if to break the silence, she stood up. "Come. There's one more place I want to show you."
They walked through a shadowed street. The walls were covered with strange symbols, half-faded, half-scratched away. The air grew colder.
Ahead stood a tall, old building with a symbol of a cracked eye above the door.
"What's this?" Altherion asked.
"The Church of Broken Truths. It's not in use anymore. Most people avoid it."
"Why?"
"Because the sermons here were never meant to comfort, they were meant to remind."
"Remind what?"
"That truth is sharp. And most people bleed when they hold it too tightly."
Altherion frowned, but followed her inside.
The air was musty. Rows of empty benches faced a stone altar. The stained glass above showed strange shapes, knotted roads, blindfolded kings, candles that melted upward.
"This place used to be full, now it's just whispers."
Altherion looked around. "Feels like something's still watching."
"Maybe something is."
The silence inside the church felt too deep, like the building was holding its breath. Dust hung in the air, unmoving. Altherion stepped carefully, as though his footsteps might wake something old.
Liesette walked ahead of him, her back straight, her movements calm. She stopped near the altar and placed her lantern on the stone surface. The violet flame flickered and cast their shadows along the walls, turning them into giant shapes.
"This place hasn't changed," she murmured.
"You used to come here?" Altherion asked.
"Sometimes. During my time at the institute, I used to sneak in at night. It was quiet… peaceful, in its own strange way."
Altherion looked around. "I thought people avoided this place."
"They do now. But back then, we were young. Curious. We wanted to understand the things that scared us." Liesette turned and smiled. "We thought we were so brave."
He returned her smile. "Sounds like you were."
She walked to one of the benches and sat down, brushing off a thin layer of dust. Her hands moved with practiced ease, as if she had done this before. Altherion joined her, keeping his sword carefully at his side.
"Did your… classmates come here with you?" he asked.
"Not many," Liesette replied, her gaze distant. "Just a few of us. Close friends. We used to argue about the meanings of the sermons. One of them, Julien. He said truth was just another name for fear."
"That's dramatic."
She chuckled. "That's Julien."
Altherion leaned back, looking up at the stained glass. The melting candles above the altar seemed to shimmer faintly in the violet light.
"What happened to them? Your friends."
"Some left the city. Some stayed. One or two…" Her voice trailed off. "Let's just say the past is not as distant as people like to believe."
Altherion nodded, thoughtful. "Do you miss them?"
"Sometimes, but Daltheria changes people. And not everyone wants to be remembered."
He didn't press further.
He didn't see the shadow that crossed her expression. To him, Liesette was someone kind, brilliant, and maybe a little lonely. She carried the weight of history with grace and that was enough.
Outside, bells rang in the distance. Not cheerful bells, but slow, hollow chimes that echoed through the stone city.
"That's the hour bell," Liesette said, standing up. "It marks the fading light. We should go before the lamps go out."
Altherion followed her out of the church. The air outside was colder now, the mist beginning to gather in the lower streets. The city seemed to exhale, buildings groaning faintly as the wind passed through narrow alleys.
They returned to the main road. A few townspeople passed them, an old woman with a crooked back, a merchant closing his stall, a man with ink-stained fingers muttering to himself.
No one greeted Liesette, but two people gave her a passing glance brief, unreadable. One of them, a thin man with graying hair, looked away quickly when she noticed him.
"Old classmate?" Altherion asked, casually.
Liesette smiled. "Yes. That's Enril. He was… intense. Used to memorize every inscription he came across."
"Did you two get along?"
"We argued constantly," she said with a soft laugh. "He always believed I was too imaginative. Said I made things up too easily."
Altherion raised an eyebrow. "Did you?"
"No," Liesette said quickly, perhaps too quickly. Then, more gently. "I just saw stories in places he only saw dust."
Altherion nodded, satisfied. "Sounds like he was jealous."
She didn't answer, only kept walking, her smile returning small, almost sad.
***
The streets grew dim as the last traces of sunlight disappeared behind the stone towers of Daltheria.
Oil lamps flickered to life one by one, casting golden pools of light along the cobbled roads. Most of the townsfolk had already gone home, leaving the city quieter, calmer, in a way.
Altherion walked beside Liesette, his boots scraping lightly against the ground. He had to admit, for a place he barely remembered, the city wasn't as terrifying as he'd feared.
"Where are we going now?" he asked, trying not to sound too nervous.
"To the Sleepy Lantern," she replied with a smile. "A small inn near the center of the Artisan Quarter. It's not fancy, but it's safe. The owner owes me a few favors."
"Sleepy Lantern? Sounds like a place where someone gets murdered on the first night."
Liesette laughed. "Only if they snore too loud."
Altherion gave her a grin, slightly more at ease. The way she carried herself, always confident and calm, made him feel like he wasn't completely lost.
They passed an old bakery with shutters drawn and a blacksmith shop that still glowed faintly with the heat of dying coals. When they turned into a smaller alleyway, the air felt warmer again, sheltered from the mountain breeze.
Finally, they arrived at a modest wooden building with a crooked sign swinging above the door. The sign was painted with a sleepy-looking oil lamp, its face drawn in such a way that it actually looked annoyed.
Altherion stared at it for a long second. "That lamp looks like it hates its job."
"It probably does," Liesette replied as she pushed the door open.
Warm air and the smell of herbs and firewood greeted them inside. A few tired travelers sat at round tables, sipping from wooden mugs. The innkeeper, a woman with strong arms and sharp eyes, looked up from the counter.
"Liesette Wundra," she said, surprised. "It's been a long time."
Liesette nodded politely. "Still breathing, Emra."
"And dragging strays off the street, I see," Emra muttered, eyeing Altherion. "What's this one's story?"
"I'm not a stray," Altherion said, lifting his chin. "I'm just temporarily… disoriented."
Emra snorted. "Whatever helps you sleep."
"He needs a room for the night," Liesette said, ignoring the exchange. "One with a window, if possible. And a lock."
"Of course," Emra replied, already reaching for a key. "We keep the noisy ones near the stairs."
Altherion stepped forward quickly, then stopped. "Uh. About that… I don't exactly have-"
"It's taken care of," Liesette said smoothly, placing a few coins on the counter. "Think of it as a welcome gift."
He blinked. "You really don't have to-"
"I know. That's why I did it," she replied, placing the key in his hand. "Besides, you'll need a clear head tomorrow. I'll come by after sunrise, and we can visit the Hall of Maps. You'll need a proper sense of direction if you're going to survive here."
Altherion stared at the key, then back at her. "Thanks, Liesette. Really. I mean it."
Her smile was soft. "Don't thank me yet. I might ask you to carry books."
He gave a tired laugh and nodded. "I've lifted worse."
"Good night, Altherion."
"Good night."
He climbed the stairs slowly, his legs finally reminding him of the long day behind him. As he reached the small room at the end of the hall, he paused for a moment, staring out the window across the rooftops of Daltheria.
The twin moons were rising again, Lunareis, pale and cold, and Noctyros, still burning red like a dying ember.
This world was still strange. Still terrifying. Still unknown.
But for now, he had a room, a key, and maybe… a friend.
And that was more than he'd started with.