The Town That Spoke His Name

By the time they stepped out of the Deadwind Road, the sun had returned—but only in part.

It filtered through clouds like a faded lantern, tired and unwilling to burn fully.

Frido blinked at the brightness. The fog still clung to his shoulders.

Mirea walked beside him, her fingers brushing his sleeve—not quite holding on, not quite letting go.

Behind them, Teren muttered, "We're out. Praise the dirt and sky."

But ahead of them, across the hill's bend, rose a town neither of them remembered seeing on any map.

It was small.

Old.

Quiet.

And somehow… watching them.

---

The Name on the Gate

As they approached, Frido stopped.

The sign above the gate read: "Dreshelm" — a name lost in time.

But that wasn't what chilled him.

Below it, scratched in fresh paint, was something else.

"Peace to the One Who Bears Silence."

Teren squinted. "Some kind of slogan?"

Mirea stepped closer.

"No," she whispered. "It's meant for him."

Frido stared at the words.

He had never been here before.

And yet… they knew him.

---

A Town Without Questions

Dreshelm's streets were clean but cracked. Houses leaned into each other like tired friends. No carriages, no trade wagons, no noise.

But the people watched from windows.

Eyes peeking between curtains.

Some smiled.

Some bowed slightly.

But none came out.

It was as if they were expecting him… but feared to interfere.

Frido whispered to Mirea, "Is this what prophecy feels like?"

She shook her head. "Prophecy feels distant. This feels… remembered."

---

The Old Innkeeper

They finally found an inn—the only open building.

The man behind the desk was ancient, with white eyebrows like wings.

"You came," he said, before they even spoke.

Frido stepped forward. "Do you know me?"

The man smiled gently. "No. But my father did. Long ago. He dreamed of you often."

He handed Frido a brass key. "Room upstairs. It's already made."

Teren frowned. "Bit too convenient."

Frido nodded. "Why would someone prepare a room?"

The innkeeper leaned forward. "Because he said you would come before the final silence. And that when you did, we must not ask questions."

He paused.

"Only listen."

---

Whispers in the Hallway

That night, they stayed.

Because leaving felt wrong.

And because the people had left bread, fruit, even warm tea outside their doors—without knocking, without speaking.

Frido paced in the hallway outside his room, the stone in his hand glowing faintly.

It vibrated softly. Not with danger.

But with memory.

He stared at the walls—lined with paintings.

One caught his eye.

A battlefield, burned and barren.

And in the corner… a figure.

His face.

Or… someone who looked like him.

He touched the canvas.

It was still drying.

---

Mirea's Choice

In her own room, Mirea sat at the edge of the bed, letter in hand.

The one she had written on the Deadwind Road.

The one she had left by Frido's pack.

But he hadn't found it—or hadn't said anything if he had.

She considered writing another.

But instead… she opened the first.

She added a line at the bottom:

"If you read this and still walk away… I will still follow."

Then she folded it again.

And tucked it into his cloak pocket while he slept.

---

Teren's Night Walk

Teren couldn't sleep.

He left the inn, walking into the cool night.

No one stopped him.

But the town… changed.

Streets curved where they hadn't before.

Statues appeared that weren't there in daylight.

Each one bore a plaque:

"He Spoke for the Dead."

"He Walked Where Others Fled."

"He Chose Silence and Broke the World."

Teren stared at one with shaking hands.

It showed Frido, older… broken… but alive.

Crowned.

---

The Dreamkeeper's Message

That night, Frido dreamed again.

This time, he stood in the same town—but it was on fire.

People screamed.

Buildings collapsed.

And atop a hill, a boy stood watching.

It was himself.

But younger.

Innocent.

The boy turned to him and said:

"You waited too long. You listened too much. You forgot to speak."

Frido knelt. "I didn't know what to say."

The boy frowned. "That was never the problem."

He reached out—and pressed his hand to Frido's heart.

"The silence will choose when to end. But not without a price."

---

Morning and a Message

When morning came, Dreshelm had changed again.

The people now walked the streets.

But they didn't speak.

They only nodded, bowed, offered food.

Children drew pictures in chalk—each one showing Frido standing before a burning sky.

Frido, overwhelmed, turned to Teren and Mirea.

"We have to go."

"Where?" Teren asked.

Frido pointed to the horizon.

"Where the silence ends."

And Mirea, quietly, behind him, nodded.

Not because she believed in prophecy.

But because she believed in him.

Even if she never said it aloud.

---

End of Chapter 33