Chapter 28

The carriage rocked gently as it rolled along the winding path through the dense forest. Outside, the towering trees seemed to form an endless tunnel, their dark trunks framing the mountains beyond. We'd been on this journey for nearly a week now, and though the scenery was majestic at first glance, the monotony of it had begun to wear on me. Still, I kept my attention fixed on the notebook in my lap, diligently recording runic designs and the many layers of magical theory I'd been contemplating since we left the city.

Across from me, Lady Valeria of House Livius sat with an unmistakable air of boredom, flipping aimlessly through a book she'd brought with her. Every few minutes, she would glance up at me, her irritation barely hidden behind her carefully poised expression. It wasn't the first time she'd tried to break the silence, and I suspected it wouldn't be the last.

"If I'd known you were going to spend the entire journey with your head buried in that notebook," she sighed dramatically, "I'd have brought some proper company."

I didn't look up immediately. I finished jotting down a particularly interesting rune combination—one I believed could enhance a warrior's reaction speed by a fraction of a second—before raising my eyes to meet hers. "Would that company have been another handsome man?" I asked, keeping my tone light but dry enough to make my point.

Her eyes widened in surprise, a look of mild indignation crossing her face. "No! I meant a friend. Or a maid, perhaps. Someone to converse with while you hide in your little world of runes and whatever else you're obsessing over."

I smirked to myself, seeing the opportunity for what it was—a perfect moment to poke at the social norms she clung to so tightly. "Ah, yes," I said, leaning back slightly, my voice taking on a casual, almost academic tone. "Women do seem to need that, don't they? The constant companionship, the unending chatter. It's almost as if being left alone with their thoughts for too long makes them... uncomfortable."

Her mouth fell open, but before she could respond, I pressed on, relishing in the chance to turn the conversation toward one of my favorite topics: human psychology. "You see, women are typically social creatures. Historically, in primitive societies, survival often depended on communication and forming strong social bonds, especially among other women. It's a form of security, really. Men, on the other hand, are often more solitary by nature. We tend to focus on tasks, goals. The need for conversation is secondary to the objective at hand. Hence, why I can sit here for hours working on something, while you..." I gestured vaguely in her direction, "...are yearning for company."

Valeria stared at me for a long moment, clearly trying to decide whether to laugh, be offended, or both. Her aristocratic features were fixed in a mask of restrained incredulity. "I've never met anyone quite like you, David. Where did you get such idiotic ideas from?"

I gave her a slow, knowing smile. She wanted an answer, but I wasn't about to divulge the source of my observations—years of psychological training, combined with a lifetime of studying human behavior in all its quirks and contradictions. Instead, I played it off casually.

"Oh, just thoughts that occur to me," I said, turning my attention back to my notebook as if the conversation had been of no particular consequence.

She huffed, clearly not satisfied with my answer, but thankfully let the matter drop. Still, the look she gave me out of the corner of her eye suggested she was both intrigued and annoyed. A fine balance to keep, I thought to myself.

The journey dragged on as the sun began its slow descent toward the horizon. We were nearing our destination, according to the guard leading our little convoy, and I couldn't deny that the constant rolling of the carriage over uneven roads was beginning to wear on me. Despite the stillness outside—save for the occasional rustle of the wind through the trees—I felt an odd sense of restlessness. The kind that always came just before something shifted.

As the carriage rumbled along the dusty path, I could sense a shift in the air. It wasn't just the weariness of the journey—though I could certainly feel that—but something else. There was an excitement brewing among the guards riding alongside the caravan. Their voices, normally low and gruff, grew louder, tinged with an undeniable sense of joy. And then, through the chatter, I heard it.

"We can see it! The capital!"

A cheer erupted from the front of the convoy, and I felt the carriage begin to slow. Valeria, who had been absentmindedly flipping through yet another book, perked up at the sound. She closed her volume with an exaggerated sigh of relief and cast me a sly glance.

"Finally, some civilization," she said, her tone dripping with mock exhaustion. "I thought we'd never arrive."

I couldn't help but smirk. After a week of endless complaints and sarcastic quips, even I was curious to see what had her so enthusiastic. She'd talked about the provincial capital as if it were the heart of the empire, the place where power and influence intertwined like strands in a spider's web. I wasn't sure what I had expected, but I had the distinct feeling I was about to find out.

The carriage halted with a gentle jolt, and the door swung open. A hand from one of the guards appeared, ready to assist Lady Valeria, who, of course, accepted it as if it were her royal due. I followed her out into the warm afternoon air, stepping onto the grass-covered crest of a hill. The horizon stretched out before us—and then, with one deep breath, I saw it.

The capital. Solis Magna.

The city lay sprawled in a vast basin that stretched for miles in every direction, filling the valley like a sea of stone, marble, and brick. My initial intake of breath felt like a gasp, as the sheer size of it hit me like a physical force. It was a city unlike any I had seen in this world—or in mine, for that matter.

The sun glinted off the high, glistening towers that reached skyward as if they were trying to touch the heavens themselves. They dotted the skyline, some of them appearing almost too tall to be real, slender spires that defied the natural laws of architecture. I couldn't help but wonder how much of that was magic—probably a great deal. No mortal hands could have built something so magnificent without a little arcane assistance.

My eyes followed the layout of the city, its grid-like streets reminiscent of ancient Rome, with aqueducts and colossal arches that supported walkways suspended in midair. The aqueducts stretched for miles, their engineering nothing short of genius, bringing water from distant mountain springs and distributing it across the entire metropolis. Even from this distance, I could see fountains and public baths, some large enough to rival the Colosseum itself.

The walls were formidable—fortifications that ringed the basin and extended into the surrounding mountains, forming natural barriers at the city's borders. The walls weren't just high; they were thick, built from stone reinforced with magic, no doubt designed to withstand any siege or invasion. Several massive gates punctuated the outer walls, and though they were miles away, I could make out the shimmering glow of runes carved into the stone—defensive measures that added another layer of protection.

Valeria stood beside me, her gaze fixed on the city, her lips curled into a knowing smile. "I told you we lived in the outback," she said, her voice low, almost conspiratorial. "This—this is what a real city looks like."

She wasn't wrong. For the first time in a long time, I found myself truly impressed.

The streets below were packed with activity even from this distance. Markets, plazas, and amphitheaters filled every available space, with throngs of people moving like ants through the city. The grand avenues were lined with towering statues of emperors, warriors, and mythical beasts—reminders of the empire's long and storied history.

And then there were the entertainment venues, just as Valeria had hinted. From this vantage point, I could make out the colossal arena, far larger than any of the provincial ones I'd seen before. It was clearly modeled after the Roman Colosseum, its stone arches casting shadows over the crowds that gathered at its gates. I could almost hear the roars of the crowd, the clash of steel, and the cries of gladiators battling for their lives. Beside it, a large theater loomed, a marvel of construction with its tiered seating and intricately carved façade, no doubt the center of high culture and performances for the city's elite.

"Impressive," I said, my voice betraying just a hint of awe.

Valeria raised an eyebrow. "I didn't take you for someone easily impressed, David."

"I'm not," I replied, my eyes still scanning the city, "but this—this is something else."

She let out a soft chuckle, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "Well, we can't all be stuck in the wilderness forever. Some of us prefer the finer things."

I turned to look at her, my lips curling into a half-smile. "And here I thought you were enjoying our little journey. You didn't seem too bored with all the complaints and observations."

She gave me a playful nudge. "Please, I thought you were going to leave me to die of boredom. You're lucky I didn't demand more entertaining company."

I shook my head, returning my attention to the city below. The grandeur of Solis Magna wasn't just in its size; it was in the details. There were massive public baths with marble columns rising like sentinels from the water, surrounded by palm trees and elaborate mosaics that shimmered in the sunlight. Then there were the forums, bustling with merchants, philosophers, and nobles alike, all engaged in heated debates or exchanging goods from across the empire.

In the distance, I noticed something even more remarkable—a colossal temple, its stone pillars larger than anything I'd ever seen. The temple stood on a raised platform, its sheer size dwarfing everything around it. The massive statue of some god—possibly a sun deity—loomed over the city, casting a long shadow over the nearby streets. Its eyes seemed to glow faintly, and I wouldn't be surprised if there was magic at play here too.

Valeria sighed softly beside me, the breeze tugging at her cloak as she gazed at the sprawling metropolis. "I've always felt small coming here," she murmured, more to herself than to me. "No matter how powerful I've become, this place—it puts everything in perspective."

I glanced at her, noting the flicker of vulnerability in her voice. It was rare for her to let her guard down like that, and for a moment, I saw through the layers of aristocratic poise she wore like armor. "Power does that," I said, "especially when it's concentrated in a place like this."

She gave me a sidelong glance, her expression unreadable. "And you, David? How do you feel coming here? Does it make you feel small?"

I considered her question for a moment, taking in the vastness of the city once more. "No," I said finally, "not small. But it does remind me how much there is to learn—and how much opportunity there is for someone who knows how to play the game."

Her lips curved into a sly smile. "Always the pragmatist."

"Always."

The guard captain approached us then, interrupting our moment of reflection. "Lady Valeria, Master Goodchild," he said with a bow, "we should be moving soon if we're to reach the gates before nightfall."

Valeria nodded, casting one last glance at the city before turning back to the carriage. "Let's not keep civilization waiting, then."

I followed her back into the carriage, my mind still racing with the possibilities. Solis Magna wasn't just a city—it was a hub of power, knowledge, and intrigue. And if I was going to survive here—no, thrive here—I would need to be smarter, faster, and more prepared than ever before.

As the carriage rolled down the hill toward the gates, I felt a strange sense of anticipation building within me. This was where the next chapter would begin—where my plans would either succeed or fail spectacularly. But one thing was certain: I wasn't going to let this city swallow me whole.

Valeria reclined in her seat, eyeing me with that familiar mix of curiosity and amusement. "You're thinking too much again," she teased.

I chuckled, closing my notebook with a snap. "Just plotting my next move."

"Well, don't overthink it, darling," she said with a wink. "This city may be vast, but even Solis Magna can be bent to the will of those clever enough to understand it."

As we descended toward the edge of Solis Magna, the once-distant spires now looming ever closer, the hum of the city slowly reached our ears—a steady, rhythmic pulse of life that matched the cadence of the horses' hooves. From where I sat, the enormity of the place still made my mind race. The roads that snaked down from the hillside were well-worn, as if thousands had made this pilgrimage to the capital before me.

I leaned back, stretching slightly, and glanced over at Valeria. Her eyes were still fixed on the cityscape ahead, but I could tell she wasn't just admiring the view. She was planning, plotting her next move as meticulously as I was. Always the strategist.

"So," I said, breaking the silence, "what can I expect from the city?"

She glanced at me briefly, a sly smile playing on her lips. "Expect a lot," she began, her voice smooth but carrying that edge of warning. "But first, remember this—here, we're small fish in a very big pond. That's the most important fact you can understand. They won't be as welcoming as our little city back home."

The urge to laugh bubbled up inside me. "Welcoming," I almost scoffed, but caught myself. If that viper's den had been considered "welcoming," I could only imagine what this place had in store for me. But I bit my tongue. Valeria, as much as I respected her, had a way of sugar-coating the worst situations.

I settled back again, choosing my words carefully. "How much worse can it be?"

She shot me a look, the kind that said I had no idea what was coming. "Oh, you'll see soon enough. But let me give you a crash course on how things work here. You'll need it."

And then she launched into a detailed description that made me realize just how little I actually knew. Solis Magna wasn't just a city; it was a living, breathing machine, a behemoth of power, politics, and manipulation.

"First, let's talk about the military," Valeria began, her tone slipping into that informative lilt she used when she was in her element. "There's the Legion, of course. The largest, most disciplined force in the empire. Each soldier is handpicked, trained not just for combat but for loyalty to the city itself. They're not like the riff-raff we have back home. These men—well, and some women—are born into the service, raised to believe that dying for Solis Magna is the highest honor."

I nodded, already forming strategies in my mind. It was clear the military here was no joke—no room for bribery or under-the-table deals. The Legion had their hands on the pulse of the city's strength, and if I were to survive here, I would need to figure out how to avoid getting on their bad side. Or, better yet, how to use them to my advantage.

"Then there's the Praetorian Guard," Valeria continued. "They're even more elite. Personal protectors of the high nobility. And they don't just protect—they ensure that the balance of power stays exactly where it is. They can be bought, but it comes at a price. A heavy one."

I leaned forward slightly. "And what's their allegiance?"

She chuckled. "To whoever pays them the most, obviously. In this city, money speaks louder than anything else. Except, perhaps, power."

Ah, yes. Power. The ever-elusive commodity that everyone chased. And in Solis Magna, it seemed, power was currency.

"And the Senate?" I prompted.

Valeria's eyes glinted with amusement. "Ah, the Senate. It's more a theater than a governing body at this point. A place for the rich and influential to argue, posture, and preen in public while their real deals happen behind closed doors. The Patricians, the noble families—those are the real power behind the city. They control the Senate, and by extension, everything else. If you want to get anything done here, you'll need to curry favor with at least one of the big houses."

"And who controls them?" I asked, already half-knowing the answer.

"No one," she said with a smile. "That's the beauty of it. The families are in constant competition, trying to outmaneuver each other, building alliances, breaking them, all while making sure no one gets too powerful. It's a game, and one that has been going on for centuries. Get involved, and you either thrive or get crushed."

I let that sink in. A city where even the ruling class was constantly at war with itself. Solis Magna was starting to sound more like a battleground than a capital.

"And what about the... more spiritual side of things?" I asked, watching as the massive temples came into clearer view as we drew closer to the city. "Religion must play a role here."

Valeria shrugged, though her eyes were sharp. "Of course. The Cults. They're everywhere. Some worship the old gods, some worship new ones. The most powerful is the Cult of the Sun God—Apollo, they call him. His followers claim he's the protector of the city, the reason why Solis Magna prospers. But truthfully? The cults are just another way for people to grab power. Influence the right sect, get in good with the head priestess or priest, and you've got an army of zealots willing to die for you."

"Charming," I muttered. "So, basically, it's all one big chess game, and everyone's a pawn."

Valeria's smile widened. "Exactly. Welcome to Solis Magna."

I looked out over the vast expanse of the city again, taking in the enormous gladiatorial arenas, the towering statues of gods and emperors, the endless parade of marketplaces and forums. Everywhere I looked, there was a sense of opulence, wealth, and danger. I could already feel the currents of ambition, deceit, and betrayal swirling around the city, like predators waiting for their prey.

"And the guilds?" I asked, shifting the topic. I had heard rumors that in the capital, some of the most powerful organizations weren't the noble families, but the various guilds that controlled trade, craftsmanship, and magical research.

Valeria nodded. "The Guilds are as powerful as any noble house, maybe even more in some ways. They control the economy—trade, manufacturing, and even the distribution of magical artifacts. The Runeworkers' Guild is particularly influential, and if you're serious about making a name for yourself with your rune-crafting, you'll need their approval."

I frowned slightly at that. Approval? I wasn't used to needing anyone's approval to do my work. The idea of jumping through bureaucratic hoops wasn't exactly thrilling, but then again, in a place like Solis Magna, I was beginning to realize that there were many different kinds of power. Control over resources was just one of them.

"And how do they… enforce that control?" I asked.

"Contracts, mostly. But they have their own enforcers," Valeria replied. "The guilds are fiercely protective of their territory. If they think you're stepping on their toes, they won't hesitate to bring you down. Most of the time, though, they'd rather absorb you into their network than eliminate you."

"So, they prefer to make allies."

"Or subordinates," she corrected. "There's a difference."

I couldn't help but smile. The guilds would be another layer to navigate—another set of rules in a city that seemed to be made entirely of shifting alliances and hidden motives. But I had no intention of becoming anyone's subordinate.

"Social classes?" I asked, knowing full well that in a city like this, hierarchy was everything.

Valeria sighed, brushing a stray hair from her face. "It's as rigid as you'd expect. At the top, you have the Patricians—the noble families. Then there are the Equestrians—the wealthy merchant class. Below them are the Plebeians, your everyday citizens who work the trades, fight in the army, run the businesses. Then, of course, there are the Slaves. This city runs on their backs. But you already knew that."

I nodded. Slavery wasn't anything new to me. But in Solis Magna, it seemed like it wasn't just accepted—it was institutionalized. Another piece of the puzzle.

"And where do we fit in?" I asked, half-joking.

Valeria smirked. "For now? We're just visitors. But if you play your cards right, you could climb that ladder. Fast."

The silence that settled between Valeria and me as we made our slow descent into the valley felt more ominous than peaceful. I could see the vast sprawl of Solis Magna growing larger with every turn of the wheels. The city dominated the horizon, its immense towers stretching into the sky, each one a fortress of stone and magic, designed to protect, intimidate, and remind everyone just how powerful this place was. I had seen grand cities before, but this... this was something entirely different. It was a living entity, breathing ambition and intrigue into every corner.

As we approached the towering gatehouses, I couldn't help but marvel at the sheer scale of it all. The gates themselves were an architectural wonder, soaring high above the road like sentinels. Each tower, carved with intricate runes that hummed with arcane energy, pulsed faintly in the evening light. There were dozens of smaller gates built into the base of the main towers, allowing traffic to flow in and out without pause. The city's design wasn't just functional—it was a masterpiece of defense and control. And while I couldn't see the magic, I could feel it, pressing lightly against my skin as we drew nearer.

"They're not stopping anyone," I muttered aloud as our carriage passed through the gates with no resistance.

Valeria didn't glance up from her book, but her tone carried a faint smirk. "They don't need to. Those gates are just for show. The real power lies in the magic you're feeling. Every person entering or leaving is being scanned. No one slips past unnoticed."

"Efficient," I muttered under my breath, my gaze sweeping the tunnel we were now passing through. The walls and ceiling were studded with what could only be attack runes, powerful enough to incinerate anything foolish enough to breach the city. Their pulsing glow sent a clear message: This place wasn't just fortified—it was impenetrable.

"Has anyone ever conquered the city?" I asked, my eyes lingering on the rune patterns, trying to commit the complexity of their design to memory. They'd be useful to study later.

Valeria finally looked up from her book, giving me a bemused glance. "Not from the outside," she replied with a sly smile. "But from the inside? Certainly."

I let out a low hum. "The enemy within. Always the most dangerous one."

Valeria didn't respond, but I saw her eyebrow twitch in amusement. She knew exactly what I meant.

As we emerged from the tunnel, the city opened up before us like a great beast unfurling its wings. The massive square we entered was alive with activity. The merchant caravan we had traveled with peeled off to the left, heading toward what I assumed was the trading district, while our carriage continued straight down one of the main boulevards.

The sheer number of people moving through the streets was overwhelming. Thousands of them, bustling about in every direction, carrying goods, shouting to one another, or just strolling as though they had all the time in the world. The cobblestone streets were lined with vendors hawking their wares, from fruits and fabrics to strange trinkets that shimmered with faint magical auras. I could see everything from noblewomen in flowing, jewel-encrusted gowns to street urchins darting between the crowds, quick fingers picking pockets before vanishing into the masses. The air was thick with the smells of roasting meat, exotic spices, and the unmistakable scent of magic.

As our carriage rumbled along, I watched the life of the city unfold. Men in togas and tunics haggled over the price of goods, their voices rising in sharp tones as deals were made and broken. Slaves, carrying baskets or leading pack animals, moved through the streets in silent efficiency, their heads bowed low. Occasionally, a guard would pass by, the distinctive creak of their leather armor and the clink of their weapons marking their presence.

It was chaos, but controlled chaos. And the city thrived on it.

"Quite a sight," I murmured, more to myself than to Valeria.

She glanced up from her book again, following my gaze as the carriage passed a group of gladiators sparring in a side street, their bronzed skin glistening with sweat. "You think this is impressive?" she asked, a hint of amusement in her voice. "We haven't even scratched the surface yet."

As we rolled into the outer skirts of Solis Magna, the chaos and energy of the city pressed in from all sides. Valeria, who'd spent the better part of the day reading in her disinterested, noble fashion, finally looked up as we pulled into the yard of an inn. She glanced around, her nose wrinkling with disdain as if the place offended her sensibilities on a personal level.

"We'll need better accommodations than this," she remarked, her voice dripping with distaste. "But for tonight, I suppose it will do. I'll contact my friends tomorrow and see about finding something more... suitable."

I glanced out the window of the carriage, watching the bustling scene unfold. The inn, a mid-tier Roman-style taberna, was hardly the worst place I'd seen. In fact, it had a certain charm. The stone walls were sturdy, worn from years of use but well-kept. The yard was filled with carriages and carts, their drivers busy attending to oxen and donkeys as they unloaded goods. The din of voices filled the air, merchants and travelers shouting orders or exchanging pleasantries. It was lively. Authentic.

Valeria, however, looked like she might faint at any moment from sheer disgust. I half expected her to start complaining about the stench of sweat and manure, but she kept her lips pressed tight, probably saving her breath for something more important.

"I don't mind it," I said, half-amused at her reaction. "It has... charm."

She shot me a look that could have frozen a furnace. "You think this is charming? It's... provincial at best." She sighed dramatically, shaking her head. "We'll have to make do."

We stepped out of the carriage, and almost immediately, a stablehand hurried over to take the reins of the draft animals. The yard was bustling, with carriages arriving and departing, men shouting instructions, and the general din of city life swirling around us. Oxen snorted, donkeys brayed, and the clatter of hooves against cobblestones filled the air.

Valeria's elegant form was distinctly out of place in this setting. She stood out like a rare jewel thrown into a pile of coal, her finely tailored dress at odds with the dust and noise of the yard. Her expression only darkened as she took it all in.

"I'll have two rooms arranged," she said, turning to me with a stiff nod. "One for each of us, obviously."

"Obviously," I agreed, keeping my tone light. I had the distinct feeling she thought I'd be inclined to share a room, as if we were star-crossed travelers thrown together by fate. But I knew better. I didn't need Valeria's noble disdain turning into outright fury if I were to suggest something so foolish.

She turned on her heel, already commanding the attention of one of the inn's attendants, and within moments, she had secured our accommodations. Two rooms. Separate. She glanced back at me with a sharp smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"I don't know you well enough to be that... intimate," she said with a touch of sarcasm. "Or trusting."

I returned her smile. "The feeling is mutual."

Her lips twitched, but whether in amusement or annoyance, I couldn't tell. "Meet me here at dawn," she continued, her tone becoming more businesslike. "We'll head to the city bureaucracy to present your credentials. They like to get started early."

"Of course," I said, bowing slightly for effect, though my mind immediately balked at the idea of waking up at such an ungodly hour. But there were worse things than dealing with bureaucrats and nobles, and I supposed it was just another part of the game.

A maid appeared to guide me to my room, a pretty young thing with a polite smile and eyes that sparkled just enough to suggest she was aware of her effect on men. I followed her through the inn, down a series of corridors that led to my quarters. They'd placed me at the opposite end of the building from Valeria, and I couldn't help but wonder if she had specifically requested the distance after my little habit of creating a rune-imbued fortress around myself. Apparently, my habit of staying in my "cave" for protection didn't sit well with her delicate sensibilities.

Once inside, I found the room to be more than serviceable. It wasn't grand by any stretch of the imagination, but it was clean and practical. The bed was solid and surprisingly comfortable, and there was a writing desk by the window with a few sheets of parchment stacked neatly on top. A small oil lamp flickered on the desk, casting a warm glow around the room.

When the maid left with a bow, I immediately set about preparing the room. Old habits die hard, after all. I pulled out my portable rune stones and began placing them strategically around the space, forming a protective barrier that would alert me to any intruders—and more importantly, ward off any potential threats. As I worked, I couldn't help but think back to the last few days. The events in Solis Magna felt like the opening moves in a much larger game, and I knew that every step I took from here would be watched closely.

The room now sufficiently warded, I sat down at the writing desk, my thoughts shifting to the plans I had been making. The orc markings, with their tattooed runes, had fascinated me more than I cared to admit. The magic they used was crude, but undeniably powerful. The fact that they could etch such complex runes onto their bodies, permanently linking themselves to the magic, opened up a world of possibilities.

I pulled out my notes and began sketching. My mind was already racing with ideas, mapping out new ways to incorporate what I had learned into my own work. The orc tattoos relied on a process of concentrated mana infusion, and I couldn't help but wonder what would happen if a more refined system were developed. Could humans use such magic? Would the tattoos grant the same strength, or was there something fundamentally different about the orcs themselves that made it work?

I considered the risks. The tattoos were permanent, after all. They weren't something you could remove with a simple spell if things went wrong. But the potential... the potential was incredible.

After tucking my notes into the secure space within my inventory stone, I leaned back in my chair, stretching out the tension from the hours hunched over the desk. The room was quiet now, save for the distant hum of the inn's activity below. I allowed myself a brief moment of reflection, my mind still churning with the possibilities of integrating those orc tattoos into more refined magic. But for now, even my curiosity had its limits. I needed sleep.

I reached for a small rune-carved stick, one of my more practical creations. A subtle wave of energy flowed from it as I ran it over my skin, pulling away the grime of the road and the faint scent of sweat and dust that had clung to me all day. The rune absorbed it all into itself, leaving me feeling cleaner than any bath could manage. Satisfied with the result, I set the stick aside and climbed into the bed, letting my body sink into the surprisingly comfortable mattress.

The day's events slowly faded from my thoughts as exhaustion took over. I let myself drift, knowing that tomorrow would bring a fresh set of challenges. The moment my head hit the pillow, sleep claimed me.

That night, I dreamt deeply. Far more deeply than I had in a long time.

It started innocuously enough, flashes of the mountain where I had first been dragged into this world. The sheer cliffs, jagged and imposing, rose around me as if they were alive, as if the very rocks were watching. But soon, the familiar sensation of the dream shifted, twisting into something more surreal. The shadows of the cliffs blurred, merging with a vision I hadn't expected in this place.

Ava.

Her face appeared, that perfect blend of amusement and curiosity that had marked our blind date—the last day I spent in my old world. She was there, in front of me, laughing as if she found the entire situation endlessly entertaining. Her dark eyes sparkled with a knowing glint, as if she'd already predicted all of this. How did she always seem so ahead of me? Or was it just in my imagination?

Her laugh echoed, that rich, throaty sound that still had the power to stop me in my tracks. It was as though she was laughing at me, or perhaps with me—at my ridiculous journey, at how far I'd come, and how I was still struggling to make sense of it all.

"Ava?" I found myself calling her name, and she smiled, that infuriatingly cryptic smile that seemed to hold all the answers I sought.

"I see you're working hard," she said, her voice teasing. "Still trying to figure everything out, huh? Always so... determined."

Before I could respond, her figure shifted. The soft, laughing lines of her face gave way to something far older, far more ancient. The mountain around us reformed, and the vision of Ava seemed to blend into the towering figure of the goddess I had seen before—the one etched into my memory like a scar on stone. The goddess who I had seen in the temple. Her form loomed over me, majestic and terrible, but now with Ava's eyes staring out at me from her marble face.

The goddess's lips didn't move, but I could feel her presence, heavy and demanding. It was as if both she and Ava were one and the same, a force beyond my understanding, watching me, judging me. Ava—no, the goddess—reached out a hand, her fingers tracing symbols in the air that I recognized, runes of power and destiny. They glowed with an ethereal light, swirling around me as if they held the weight of fate itself.

"Are you ready?" the voice came, though whether it was Ava's or the goddess's, I couldn't tell. "Are you truly ready for what's coming?"

I wanted to speak, to ask what she meant, but my voice felt trapped in my throat, as though my questions didn't matter. The symbols around me swirled faster, binding me, holding me in place, as the vision grew more intense. The world shifted again, merging into a field of gold and fire, where everything—everything—was out of my control. The swirling runes began to burn, not with pain, but with a sensation of overwhelming power, as if I were on the verge of some great discovery.

Then, just as suddenly, the dream shifted once more, pulling me back into the depths of sleep, leaving behind only fragments of what had been shown to me. Ava—or the goddess, or whoever she was—faded from view, her smile lingering long after the dream ended.

I awoke with a sharp intake of breath, my heart pounding as if I had run for miles. The room was still dark, the only light coming from the dim glow of my protective runes around the door. The bed beneath me felt strange, as though the dream had warped the very fabric of the world around me.

For a long moment, I simply lay there, staring at the ceiling, my mind replaying the dream. Ava's face. The goddess's form. The runes. What had that been? A warning? A vision of things to come? Or just a manifestation of my own inner turmoil? The laugh still echoed in my ears, that same maddeningly amused sound.

I wasn't sure which was more unsettling—the idea that Ava was watching me, or the possibility that the goddess had been guiding me all along.

I sighed, sitting up in bed, my hand instinctively reaching for the rune stone on the nightstand. I ran my thumb over the cool surface, the familiar sensation grounding me in reality. Dreams were just that—dreams. But in this world, who was to say they didn't hold some greater meaning?

With a groan, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up, pacing the room. Sleep, it seemed, wouldn't come easily again tonight. My mind buzzed with too many thoughts, too many questions that I couldn't answer. Then I gave in and returned to my notebook with the light of the magical lamp giving me light to read by.