Chapter Ten -- The Walls of Avalon
The fire had burned down to embers when he finally spoke. The words slipped out before he could stop them.
"Old man… have you ever heard of a city named Eden?"
The driver turned his head slightly, eyes narrowing as if searching his memory. Then he shook his head. "No. Not in all my years. Not even from the mouths of traders."
The answer struck him harder than he expected. He blinked, almost stunned. Not even heard of it? His chest tightened. He pressed again, voice quieter.
"Could it be a city in the Far East?"
The old man's reply was simple. "Never heard of such a place."
He fell silent.
Inside, his thoughts churned. Eden… was that truly its name? Or did I only call it that because it felt like it? If it was real, why has no one heard of it? A city swallowed by a tree that touched the heavens—how could such a thing vanish without rumor? Traders carry news faster than the wind. If it was destroyed, the world should have trembled. So why does he know nothing? Did it never exist at all? Or is it hidden, far beyond the maps of men?
The questions circled like vultures. He thought of asking about the tree—the Soul Tree that had towered above the ruins—but he stopped himself. No. To speak of such things would sound mad. A city no one has heard of, a tree that split the sky… if I say that aloud, they'll brand me strange. Or worse-link me to the vessels, call me a bearer. That would be the end of me.
So he swallowed the truth. Lies, he realized, were his shield now.
"Yes," he said at last, forcing the words out steady. "My hometown. Eden, in the land beyond the East."
The old man gave only a nod. No suspicion, no curiosity. Just a nod.
Then pain lanced across his back, sharp and searing. He winced, teeth clenched.
"You all right, lad? Were you injured?" the old man asked, glancing at him.
He forced a crooked smile. "Nah. Just a back pain. Sleeping on hard floors does that." The lie came easy. Lies would keep him alive.
"I'll take a nap," he added quickly, before more questions could come.
He slipped into his tent. The wind was cool now, a mercy after the heat of the afternoon. He lay down, grateful for the change. For half an hour he turned the old man's words over in his head. No Eden. No whispers. No memory of a city swallowed by a tree. The silence of the world on the matter was louder than any answer. The thoughts lingered until sleep finally pulled him under.
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Morning came with the jostle of the cart. The cool night had given way to a burning sun. Dust rose in waves from the road. He lay on his back, hands over his head, squinting against the glare.
From a distance, he saw them: towering grey walls. They rose from the horizon like a mountain built by men. Smaller than the Soul Tree, yes, but still vast, still awe‑striking. They looked like an oasis of stone in a desert of dust.
He let his gaze linger. So this is Avalon. The city where it all began.
Traders and pilgrims passed them on the road, exchanging greetings with the old man. Their eyes always lingered on him. Too long. Too sharp. Like he was some foreign good on display. Unease prickled at him. Sometimes he waved back, awkward, and they turned away. Why are they staring? What do they see?
He didn't know how long he lay there, but when the sun vanished from his eyes, he realized it was the walls themselves blocking it. They had drawn close. He stood, staring up. The walls were as grey as he had guessed, their shadows stretching vast across the road.
The cart rolled into that shadow, wheels clattering over stone. The path here was paved, chiseled blocks fitted together with care. Ahead loomed the gate: a massive slab of black iron, tall as a tower. No watchmen stood above. Only two figures at its base, cloaked in obsidian armor. They stood still as statues, but their presence pressed heavy on the air.
The old man's voice was low. "They don't take kindly to foreigners. Speak nothing. I'll call you my hired helper. That way, we both pass." His eyes stayed forward, squinting against the light.
"Thanks, old man," he said quietly. For the first time, he felt he had misjudged him. The man was more than a trader; he was a shield, however small. He only hoped Avalon held others as kind.
Then it happened.
A shift. A ripple. Like his consciousness had brushed against a barrier. The same sensation he had felt when his mind had climbed the trunk of the Soul Tree. He turned, half‑expecting to see something behind them. But the road was the same—dust, stone, empty land.
Still, he knew. Something had changed.
The wind confirmed it. A cold gust struck his face, sharp and sudden.Moments ago it had blown from the west. Now it came from the east.
He shivered. Not from the chill, but from the certainty. They had crossed into something unseen.
Avalon was no longer ahead.
It had already taken them in.