Chapter 193: The Road Painted in Gold

The sun hung low on the horizon like a molten coin, bleeding its golden light across the cracked cobblestone streets of Evermere.

It was late afternoon now, and the city, still waking from its years of slumber and sorrow, was bathed in a glow so breathtaking it felt almost sacred.

Fred adjusted the leather strap across his chest, feeling the weight of his satchel filled with supplies. His shadow stretched long before him, a silent companion on the golden road ahead.

Around him, the others prepared for the journey with a flurry of movement.

Jackim, tall and steady with his dark hair pulled into a low tie, was double-checking their route, folding the worn map carefully into his coat. His dark coat swirled slightly in the cool evening breeze, the stitched sigil on the sleeve — a phoenix wrapped around a sword — catching the last of the light.

Maggy, dressed in a deep emerald cloak that contrasted with her russet hair and warm brown skin, tightened the straps on the pack strapped to Bramble, their loyal and slightly mischievous hound. Her green eyes sparkled mischievously even as she cursed under her breath, fighting with the stubborn buckles.

Comfort had donned a worn leather jacket, its once-bright patches faded with time but still holding the chaotic spirit of its wearer. She was tossing a dagger from hand to hand, her blue-black hair braided neatly down her back.

Peter, ever the clown, wore an oversized scarf wrapped around his neck three times, making him look like a small mountain with legs.

"Ready for the Arctic tundra," he quipped, winking at Fred.

Sophie, patient and ever-graceful, was adjusting her twin blades at her hips. The silver hilts glinted under the dying sun, matching the cool tone of her skin and the slight upward tilt of her almond-shaped eyes. Her silk tunic, dyed deep navy, rippled with her every movement.

Paul, his boyish face smudged with soot and his sandy hair sticking up at odd angles, carried a satchel almost as big as he was, stuffed with food, books, and a mysterious musical instrument poking out of the top.

Fred smiled.

He drank in the sight of them — his family — feeling a fierce, bone-deep warmth that had nothing to do with the sun.

---

The group set out through the western gates of Evermere, the heavy iron doors creaking open on their rusted hinges with a sound like an old giant groaning awake.

Beyond the gates, the world stretched out in wild abandon.

The grasslands swayed under the golden sky, an endless ocean of green and gold. Distant trees punctuated the landscape like forgotten sentinels, their branches still bare but full of silent promise.

The path ahead was rough and uncertain, snaking over hills and through thickets, vanishing sometimes entirely under wildflowers or creeping ivy.

But Fred didn't hesitate.

He led the way, his heart pounding in rhythm with every step.

---

As they walked, the evening deepened into twilight.

Stars began to blink shyly into existence overhead, peeking through the violet-hued sky.

Comfort pulled out a harmonica from her jacket and started playing a slow, wistful tune. The notes floated on the cool air, weaving in and out of the crackling of the small fires the group lit when they stopped to rest.

Peter tried — and failed — to keep rhythm with a pair of spoons he had swiped from a broken tavern back in the city.

Maggy laughed so hard she had to wipe tears from her eyes, her face glowing in the firelight.

Even Jackim, usually so composed, cracked a rare, crooked smile.

Fred leaned back against a smooth boulder, gazing up at the sea of stars stretching infinitely above them.

For the first time in a long time, he let himself believe:

Maybe the road ahead, no matter how broken or treacherous, was still paved with gold.

Maybe there was still magic left in the world.

Maybe they could find it — together.

---

Somewhere, far ahead, the mountains loomed like ancient gods, shrouded in mist and mystery.

Somewhere, destiny was waiting.

And Fred, for the first time, didn't fear it.

He was ready.

Ready to fight.

Ready to laugh.

Ready to cry.

Ready to live.

And with that quiet, fierce promise burning in his chest, Fred closed his eyes and drifted into sleep under a sky painted with endless stars.

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