As Saan's vision adjusted to the sunlight spilling in from the tavern's doorway, they turned and found Glory standing just a step away, as though she had been waiting there for hours. She carried herself with a strange mix of pride and uncertainty, her figure framed against the brightness outside. The first thing Saan noticed was her attire, an ensemble that seemed both deliberate and worn from travel.
Her boots were grey and dusty, the leather creased from miles of walking. A skirt of the same tone fell to her ankles, brushing lightly against her boots whenever she shifted her weight. In her hand, she clutched a bronze-colored carpet bag patterned with intricate swirling designs, the kind of ornamentation that drew the eye even when muted by grime. Over her blouse, which shimmered faintly with golden trim along its edges, she wore a grey jacket that hung open. The fabric of the jacket was dotted with tiny white snowflake-like patterns, subtle but catching the light in a way that made them glimmer when she moved. Upon her head rested a red cattleman's-crease hat, its white band pressed with a single white flower at the side. Dangling from her ears were two earrings, each holding a rhombus-shaped red crystal that caught the sun with every small tilt of her head.
Her almond-shaped eyes, golden in color, reflected the blue of Saan's own gaze. Her lips, painted a deep crimson, curled into a smile. It was a reserved smile, closed, the teeth hidden, a smile meant to intrigue rather than reveal.
"I know this is a surprise for you, and it surely is for me to show myself this way," she began, her voice carrying a lilting drawl. "But to give a quick introduction, my name is—"
"Glory," Saan said plainly, staring directly at her.
The woman's eyes widened a fraction, though the change was subtle enough to vanish if one looked away too quickly.
"Uh... aye... I forgot that elves got exceptional hearing, though I didn't reckon you'd remember me." Glory gave a small smile again, her words carrying a soft nervousness.
"Well, you seem to know more than you let on," Saan replied. Their tone was steady, unreadable. "You caught my interest."
Glory chuckled faintly, closing her eyes as she let the laugh pass with only the faintest exaggeration. "Guess I oughta have hidden my secrets better, hahaha."
"What is it that you want from me?" Saan asked, their expression unmoving.
Her mirth faded, her voice settling into something quieter. "I want to journey with you."
Saan's eyes narrowed slightly. "To where?"
She smiled once more, though this smile carried weight behind it. "Towards my death."
For a moment, Saan's composure faltered. Their eyes widened, just a little.
"I can see your willingness to go on this journey," they said at last, "but I would rather not carry a weight on my shoulder."
Glory lowered her head beneath the brim of her hat, the shadow hiding her eyes. "I understand... but I can prove myself to you. Just give me one chance." She lifted her gaze once more, her golden eyes meeting theirs with quiet resolve.
Saan paused, considering her for a moment. The air between them grew still.
"Travel with me to the town of Iron Yard. If you can follow me there, then I'll decide if you may continue forward with me."
Glory's lips curled upward in sudden delight. Her eyes lit up and bloomed with energy. She threw her right hand up in the air, making a small fist. "Hahahaha, yeahh, thank you, Saan..." She quickly covered her mouth, her eyes widening. "Sorry, I meant Mr. Saan."
"It's fine," Saan said evenly. "But only call me Saan if I allow you to continue."
They moved past her, their steps measured and steady. Glory's eyes followed the motion, her smile softening. She quickly turned and fell into step behind.
"Oh, alright, I understand..." she muttered as she caught up.
Together they left the tavern behind. The street outside was alive with movement. People bustled back and forth: some hauling carts loaded with goods, others guiding horse-drawn carriages, while many more simply walked with baskets of trade or produce. Some eyes turned to Saan, curious or wary. Others waved at Glory, offering greetings with familiarity, though she returned them with little more than nods.
The streetlamps stood at even intervals, tall iron poles with pointed tips. At their crowns were glass encirclements, now standing empty of flame in the day's light. Inside, faint yellow crystals of varied shapes glimmered faintly, remnants of the firelight they produced during the night.
Shops lined the road on either side. Stalls sold cutlery and utensils, their metallic edges catching sunlight. Others displayed bundles of krick grass tied in neat bunches, beans piled into sacks, or small crates of other local goods. The smell of herbs mingled with the earthy musk of animals being driven down the road.
When they reached a three-way junction, Saan turned right without hesitation. Glory followed without a word, her expression plain. Yet after several paces, she stopped abruptly.
"Mr. Saan, can you please stop here for a moment?" she called out.
Saan continued without turning. Their stride remained steady.
"It's essential for the journey," Glory raised her voice, a trace of insistence in her tone.
Still, Saan did not halt. "Catch up with me when you can."
Glory clenched her fist at her side, her gaze fixed on Saan's back. Then, without further hesitation, she darted across the road toward a shop with a wide wooden sign overhead: Butcher's Hut. The smell of blood and raw flesh lingered heavily in the air, the stench sharp enough to wrinkle the nose. Ignoring it, she stepped inside.
"Roger? You there?" she called softly.
A voice answered from within, muffled by distance. "Aye, come in the backroom." The sound of something heavy being dropped into water followed his words.
Glory moved deeper into the shop. The backroom was dim, lit by only a handful of hanging lamps swaying gently from the low ceiling. Carcasses of animals hung from iron hooks, their pale flesh glistening faintly. Skins were draped over wooden racks, drying. The air was thick with iron and salt. In the midst of it all, a man in a stained cap stood bent over a table, slicing open the stomach of a slick, pale-skinned beast.
Without looking up, he asked, "What do you want?"
"Can you lend me some money?" Glory said with steady confidence.
Roger paused mid-cut. He pulled out a cluster of eggs no larger than beans, dropping them one by one into a bucket of ice water. He glanced at her, his eyes lingering. At length, he set the knife aside.
"So, where are you goin'?" he asked, his voice low, roughened by the work.
"I'm leaving to prove myself to him," she answered, her tone clear, unwavering.
"To whom?" Roger grunted. "The one person you loved half a decade ago?"
"Yes, to him," she said, lowering her head. "I understand if you don't get it, since I never opened myself fully to you. But when I return, I'll tell you everything."
Roger's brow furrowed. "And what of Jacob? Does he know?"
"I desire him," Glory admitted softly. "But I can't overcome it... not without this. I need you to tell him for me. I don't have time to wait for his prayer at the Yam to end, nor the heart to explain it myself." She lifted her eyes, steady and pleading.
Roger studied her for a long moment. The silence hung heavy, broken only by the faint drip of blood and water into the bucket. "Well, since you don't have time, I'll be straight. I'll lend you the money... but you must promise you'll return to pay it back."
"I promise." Glory's golden eyes glimmered in the lamplight.
"Uhh... sure, I'll lend you the coin, especially considerin' the nights you gave me." Roger smirked faintly.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. You always disappointed." Glory's tone was sharp, though her lips curved in a smile.
"You oughta be grateful for the money," Roger snapped, his voice rising.
"I will repay it." Glory's reply was firm, unwavering.
"If you return," Roger muttered, brushing past her toward the front.
"I will return," she said, her eyes following his movement.
Roger opened a drawer in a small table and retrieved a leather pouch, no larger than Glory's hand. He placed it on the table. She took it quickly, slipping it into her carpet bag.
"Thank you, Roger." She smiled faintly.
"No worries," he replied, returning the smile.
"Wait for me... and please take care of Jacob. Make sure to choose a good woman for him." She rushed from the shop without waiting for his answer.
Out on the street, she ran in the direction Saan had taken. At the next crossroad, she halted and inhaled deeply. She caught the faintest trace of a fragrance, crisp and luminous, carried on the breeze. It was sharp and warm at once, vibrant yet grounding, a hundred subtle scents bound together in one. Following it, she darted forward.
Her pace carried her faster than horse carts, her legs springing with sudden strength. She vaulted over startled pedestrians, drawing shouts in her wake.
"Hey, ain't that Glory?" one person cried, voices stirring as more eyes turned toward her.
But she ignored them. The crowd fell behind quickly, swallowed by the dust.
The streets grew emptier, houses broken and worn by neglect. At the edge of the road, where sand overtook stone, she saw Saan ahead, their hood drawn low. They walked with the same unhurried rhythm, their boots pressing evenly into the ground.
Glory reached them, her steps falling in sync. The crunch of her boots in the sand seemed louder than theirs.
"So... was that a test?" she asked with a sly smirk.
"I wanted to gauge your capabilities," Saan answered plainly.
"Did I impress you?" she pressed.
"No. But you can follow me for now."
"Well, I'll take that as a compliment." She huffed softly, her smirk lingering.
"By the way, you didn't ask why I'm goin' to the Edge?" she asked, quickening her pace to catch a glimpse of their face. Yet each time, she found herself left just behind.
"That's your journey, not mine," Saan said without looking at her.
Glory chuckled. "Oh, really?"
"You're pretty interesting, you know," she said after a pause.
"That's new," Saan replied, their tone unchanged.
"Oh really? You can learn a lot of new things if you let me come along," Glory said, pushing her speed again.
"Keep up," Saan answered simply, leaving her trailing again.
At last, they reached the abandoned edge of town. Glory stopped, turning to look back at the city. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, though she wiped them quickly away before facing forward again. With one hand, she buttoned her jacket. Then she reached beneath the brim of her hat, unhooking a folded dark grey veil. She let it fall, covering her face entirely.
She rushed forward to match Saan's stride once more, finding a new rhythm in the silence.
The sun climbed toward its zenith. Heat pressed down upon them, the barren landscape shimmering in the distance. The wind swept across the sands, carrying dust that tugged at Saan's cloak, at Glory's skirt and veil. The air carried the faint cry of some distant creature, sharp and lonely.
Their steps echoed differently: Glory's leaving deep, solid impressions, Saan's leaving faint marks that seemed to curve, forming subtle butterfly shapes in the sand. Glory noticed, though she said nothing.
When the sun stood at its highest, a structure appeared far ahead, wavering in the heat haze. Glory narrowed her eyes.
"That's the guiding light," she said softly as the wind carried her words.
The structure grew clearer as they approached. It was built upon a raised platform, wide enough to hold them both. Stairs climbed each side, though many stones were chipped and cracked, coated with dust. The walls were pale, sandstone worn by years, once painted with golden designs that now crumbled away. Atop its dome roof stood an iron pole, long and dark with rust. Once, a glass encirclement had been fixed there, but now it lay broken, its edges jagged. No crystal remained within, leaving the top empty and hollow.
As they drew closer, a figure emerged from the ruin. He wore white and blue armor, polished yet marked by scratches. A white cape hung from his shoulders, stirring lightly in the wind. Around his neck rested a necklace larger than Jacob's, its chain catching the sunlight. At his side, a sword gleamed, its hilt gilded in gold. His face was hidden beneath a helmet of blue and white, every feature concealed, a narrow slit faintly rimmed with blue, revealing only darkness.