Old Stone Bridge

After hours of walking, Ethan found himself still lost in thought about the dream. The more he tried to push it from his mind, the more it clung to him. Sarah's voice, the look on her face—it all felt too real. Could it have been just a dream, or was there something more to it? The idea of some kind of connection to his old world lingered in the back of his mind, unsettling but also intriguing. He couldn't shake the feeling that the dream meant something, but for now, the answers were elusive.

The day wore on, the sun creeping lower in the sky, casting long shadows as Ethan and Greg continued their journey. The path had been relatively quiet, with only the occasional rustle of wind through the trees and the distant call of birds breaking the silence. Greg marched steadily beside him, as reliable as ever, but Ethan barely noticed, too wrapped up in his thoughts.

Then, up ahead, the landscape began to change. The trees gave way to open fields, and in the distance, the Old Stone Bridge came into view. It was massive, spanning a wide, slow-moving river below. The stonework was ancient but solid, weathered by time and the elements. Moss and vines clung to its sides, and the bridge stretched across the river like a relic from a bygone age.

Ethan stopped for a moment, taking in the sight of the bridge. It was a landmark, one that travelers used to mark the transition between regions. Beyond it lay the road to Greystone, and crossing it felt like an important step toward whatever awaited him there.

He glanced at Greg, who stood patiently at his side, then back at the bridge. The river below reflected the fading light of the late afternoon, the sound of water softly rushing beneath them.

Ethan took a deep breath, the weight of the dream still hanging over him but tempered by the significance of the moment. This was another step closer to answers—answers about his powers, his place in this world, and perhaps even the strange dream that had shaken him to his core.

"Let's cross," he said quietly, stepping forward onto the ancient stone. Greg followed silently as they made their way across, the sound of their footsteps echoing faintly in the quiet.

As Ethan and Greg crossed the Old Stone Bridge, Ethan found himself drawn to the intricate details of the structure. The bridge was more than just a crossing—it was a piece of ancient craftsmanship, the kind that had stood the test of time. Each stone seemed perfectly placed, and the carvings along the sides, though weathered and covered with moss, hinted at a time when this bridge had been part of something greater—perhaps a grand road that connected forgotten kingdoms.

He ran a hand along the cool stone as they walked, taking in the faint symbols carved into the surface. Fascinating, he thought, his mind momentarily distracted from the weight of his earlier thoughts. His eyes wandered across the cracks and moss that had crept into the once-perfect stonework, imagining the hands that had built it.

He couldn't help but think about the ruins he had passed earlier as well. If not for the travelers' warnings, he would have been tempted to explore them. Who knew what kind of secrets or artifacts they might have held? But the risk of running into scavengers or worse had been too great, and with his current lack of magic, he wasn't in a position to take unnecessary risks. Still, the thought of those ruins stirred his curiosity—maybe once his powers were back, he could explore them properly.

As they continued across the bridge, Ethan noticed something up ahead—a merchant caravan making its way toward them from the other side. The caravan consisted of several wooden carts pulled by horses, with merchants walking alongside, chatting casually among themselves. The carts were filled with various goods, covered with tarps that flapped gently in the breeze. Guards, armed with spears and swords, walked alongside the caravan, keeping watch for any signs of trouble.

The lead merchant, a middle-aged man with a wide-brimmed hat, noticed Ethan and Greg approaching and gave a friendly nod. "Good day, traveler!" he called out, his voice cheerful despite the dusty road.

Ethan returned the nod, offering a polite smile. "Safe travels to you."

The merchant gave Greg a curious glance, clearly intrigued by the golem's presence but said nothing of it. The caravan slowed as they passed, and Ethan could see various goods on display—bundles of textiles, barrels likely filled with food or supplies, and crates containing tools and trinkets.

The merchant gave another smile, tipping his hat. "Heading to Greystone, are you?"

Ethan nodded. "Yeah, we are."

"Wise choice," the merchant said, his tone light. "A lot of travelers heading that way these days. Bandits still about, but the roads near the city are better patrolled."

Ethan acknowledged the information, grateful for the update. "Thanks. What about you? Heading somewhere else?"

The merchant chuckled. "We're on our way to Rivermoor, just past the mountains. Trade's good there, and a little quieter than Greystone, if you're looking for peace."

Ethan made a mental note but didn't ask more. After exchanging a few more pleasantries, the caravan moved on, the sound of their carts and horses echoing across the bridge as they passed.

As they continued their walk, the faint glow of Greystone in the distance began to form in Ethan's mind. The city wasn't far now, and with each step, they grew closer to the answers Ethan was seeking.

---

As Ethan continued walking, the excitement of seeing a city in a fantasy world buzzed through him. His mind filled with images of what Greystone might be like—towers, marketplaces, mages, and all the wonder that came with a world so different from the one he had left behind. "Aw man, I just love fantasy worlds," he muttered to himself with a grin. The thought of exploring a city here was thrilling, like something straight out of the stories and games he had spent so much time dreaming about.

But as his thoughts turned to the dream he had the night before, the excitement began to give way to something heavier. The memory of Sarah's tears, the grief in her voice—it stirred emotions he had tried to push aside. Could he really go back? Warn his family somehow, just to let them know he was alright? The thought weighed on him, especially when he imagined his mother. She would tell him to come home, beg him to find a way back. And if she did… he wasn't sure he could say no.

But then there was Sarah. She understood him better than anyone. If she knew where he was, she'd probably tell him to stay. She knew how much he loved fantasy worlds, how he had always dreamed of living in one. She might even try to figure out how to join him. She had always hated school just as much as he did, always itching for something more, something beyond the ordinary.

A deep sadness crept in as he thought about the life he had left behind—the people, the memories. His steps slowed as the familiar weight of guilt settled over him.

Suddenly, a heavy hand landed on his back, breaking him from his thoughts. Startled, he turned his head slightly to see Greg's large, stone hand resting on him for a moment before the golem removed it, resuming his silent walk by Ethan's side. There was no change in their mental link, no message or feeling conveyed from Greg. But the gesture, however small, lingered with Ethan.

"Was Greg…?" Ethan trailed off, shaking his head. It couldn't be. Greg didn't think like that—or did he? It was hard to tell sometimes. But that small touch had felt… intentional, almost as if Greg was trying to offer comfort in his own silent way.

Ethan pushed the thought aside and continued walking, though the feeling stayed with him. After a few more hours of walking, they decided to take a break, the familiar exhaustion of travel settling in again. Ethan sat down, letting the cool air of the late afternoon wash over him. His thoughts returned briefly to the dream, but this time, the ache wasn't as sharp. Maybe, in some way, he wasn't as alone as he thought.

Ethan sat down and took a long drink from his glass bottle, the cool water refreshing him after the hours of walking. He glanced up at the faintly glowing blue orbs of mana that drifted around the area, like lazy fireflies floating through the air. They had been a constant presence ever since he'd arrived in this world, always lingering just out of reach.

Curiosity got the better of him, and he reached out to poke one of the orbs. It shifted slightly, almost as if it reacted to his touch, but his hand passed right through it. There was no sensation, no energy, no resistance—just the faint feeling of air brushing against his skin. "Yup, I don't feel a thing," he muttered. "These things must be big clumps of mana or something."

He tilted his head, watching the orb float away, still puzzled by their nature. Without his connection to mana, the orbs were just strange, untouchable objects, teasing him with their presence. Back when he could still feel and control the elements, he might have been able to manipulate them—bend them to his will—but now they were just fragments of energy, drifting out of his reach.

Ethan sighed, turning to Greg. The golem stood silently nearby, his stone-and-bronze form looming over the campsite like a statue. "You know, Greg," Ethan said, his voice light, "I've been thinking about these orbs. They're everywhere, but I have no idea what they actually are. I mean, they feel like nothing when I touch them. Strange, huh?"

Greg, of course, said nothing, his expressionless face betraying no emotion or thought. Ethan knew he wasn't really talking to Greg—not in the way he used to, back when he could sense the Mind Element between them. Without his connection to the elements, there was no longer that subtle mental response—that faint feeling of acknowledgment he used to get when he spoke to Greg. Now it was just… silence.

He frowned slightly, feeling the gap left by his lost powers. "I miss that, you know?" he continued, more to himself than to Greg. "Back when I could feel your thoughts, or at least get some sense of a response. Now I'm just… talking to myself."

Greg remained motionless, his usual silent self, and Ethan couldn't help but chuckle at the situation. It was like talking to a wall—but he didn't mind. Greg was still there, watching over him, even if their connection wasn't what it used to be.

"Once I get my powers back, things will be different," Ethan said softly, his determination rising. "I'll make sure you can think for yourself."

With that, he leaned back, letting the quiet of the evening settle over them. Despite everything, Greg's presence still gave him comfort. Even if there was no response, Ethan knew Greg had his back—and that was enough for now.