Chapter 35 - The Journey, For The Second Time

The road to the Wasteland never got easier.

Three wagons creaked and groaned as they crawled their way out of Ironpeak's gate.

The first was Ren's, driven by Fera, with Sera beside him. Becca, Ren's loyal mare, trotted at a steady pace, guiding the wagon over uneven terrain.

The wagon's bed was packed with sacks of dried food, tightly sealed jars, and bundles of carefully wrapped seeds.

Behind them came the second wagon. Heavier, slower, pulled by Doro, London's thick-necked draft horse.

London sat on the reins, with four members of the Trade Union riding in the back, surrounded by crates of tools and supplies.

The third and final wagon brought up the rear, manned by another Union driver and four more workers.

It was the same journey as last time. Ironpeak to the Wasteland. Again. And despite knowing every bump and curve now, the sheer length of it drained the soul.

Ren always thought about a shortcut.

But the trail was either riddled with rocks or blocked by untouched forest.

No road, no bridges.

Nothing connected Ironpeak to the Wasteland but time and stubbornness.

No one wanted to build that.

No one cared to build a road to a place full of crumbled stone and overgrown fields. A place they all still called Wasteland.

But Ren did care. He had to.

"Fera," Ren said, leaning forward. "Take us close to the base of the ridge. Not too high, just tight against it."

The woman gave a small nod. She didn't ask why.

They shifted course slowly, the path growing rougher as they edged nearer the mountain's foot.

And then… it pulsed.

A flicker of warmth against his chest. Gentle, steady.

Ren's fingers moved to the map tucked into his coat. When he unrolled it, a shimmer danced along the parchment.

The threads, normally a soft blue, had changed.

One in particular stretched forward, long and unbroken, weaving through the very mountain itself. But now its color gleamed silver, threaded with gray.

He stared at it, eyebrows furrowed. It cut through the ridgeline cleanly, almost unnaturally.

"What are you trying to show me…" he murmured, eyes tracing the mark again and again.

The map never lied. It never gave him anything without reason.

But this time, he couldn't solve the puzzle. Not yet.

"Something wrong?" Sera's voice pulled him back.

Ren looked up, the map still open on his lap. He was perched sideways on the wagon bench, watching him.

"What are you trying to show me…" he murmured, eyes tracing the mark again and again.

The map never lied. It never gave him anything without reason.

But this time, he couldn't solve the puzzle. Not yet.

"Something wrong?" Sera's voice pulled him back.

Ren looked up, the map still open on his lap. She was perched sideways on the wagon bench, watching him.

"It's… a thread," he said, gesturing to the parchment. "A new one. Silver."

Sera leaned closer, brushing her hair back. "That's normal right? What does silver mean?"

"I don't know yet." Ren hesitated. "But it's cutting through the mountain. Like it's telling me there's a way through. A path."

Sera frowned. "A tunnel?"

"Maybe. Or something buried. A fault line. An old road. I don't know." He folded the map slowly, careful not to crinkle it. "But if it's real… it could save us days or weeks. Make the Wasteland feel closer. Connected."

"You think it's worth checking?" she asked.

He glanced toward the ridge, where the sun was beginning to fall behind the rocks. "Not now. But soon. After we rest."

Sera nodded. "You're the one who make all the decisions, I just follow."

"Because I don't want to keep dragging people over broken ground," he said. "If there's a better path, I need to find it."

They fell into silence, the wheels rattling on. But something had shifted in Ren's mind.

The map never lied.

And the mountain might not be an obstacle, it might be a doorway.

***

That night, they camped at the foot of the ridge.

Camp was set beneath the mountain's shadow.

They made a small circle with the wagons, lit a fire, and passed around warm bowls of stew.

Fera kept watch, half asleep with her back against a wheel.

London and the Union men played a lazy dice game near the third wagon.

Ren sat beside Sera in the grass, watching embers rise into the night air.

After some time, he quietly leaned toward her. "Walk with me?"

She turned her head, eyebrows raised. "Now?"

Ren offered a small shrug. "Just need to see something. Won't be long."

She sighed and stood, brushing her hands clean. "Fine. But if this ends with climbing, I'm not doing it."

***

Half an hour after they walked the mountain's base, letting Ren's memory and the map guide them.

The silver thread ended at a wall of smooth, dark stone. The face was wide and oddly perfect. No vines. No erosion. Just clean rock, untouched.

Ren stepped forward, running his hand along it. "It's here."

Sera crouched to inspect it too. "Looks like any other wall."

"No." He shook his head. "Feel it. Too smooth. Like it's been polished."

She lit a small moss torch, and the flickering light cast long shadows over the rock. Sera narrowed her eyes.

"You're right. This isn't natural."

Ren circled a few steps back and studied the whole wall.

His fingers itched with instinct. "This is sealed. Not blocked by rubblem sealed. With magic. Earth magic, probably." Ren added, "You remember… the Mural? The man build a wall? I have a feeling this is the same thing."

Sera stepped away, watching his face. "So… what do you want me to do?"

He looked at her.

"If I asked you to blow this thing open… would it work?"

A smile tugged at the corner of Sera's mouth.

"I'm a Seventh Circle mage," she said softly. "One more, and I'd be in line to lead the Magic Tower in the capital."

She turned her gaze to the wall.

"We don't try. We do."

Ren didn't take his eyes off the rock. "If someone strong sealed this, we might not break through. Just one shot, make it count. Feels like it's thick."

"That's exactly what I was thinking." She tilted her head. "This wall doesn't want to be touched. So let's touch it properly."

Sera stepped back, planting her feet.

Her hands moved in swift arcs, sketching heat into the air itself. Words left her lips in a low chant, and the ground beneath them began to warm.

A glow built around her fingertips… first red, then bright golden orange.

The fire didn't roar. It hummed, concentrated and quiet, like the breath before an eruption.

Then she thrust her fingertips forward.

A spear of searing flame lanced out and struck the stone.

It didn't just burn, it sank in, heat eating through the surface like a brand through wax. The rock hissed. Then cracked.

A line of glowing fire split across the surface. The mountain groaned.

And with a thunderous crash, the sealed wall collapsed inward.

Ash and dust billowed around them.

Ren shielded his face. When it settled, a tunnel yawned open in the stone. Dark, precise, unnaturally smooth.

The air that drifted from within was dry and still, like something had been sleeping for a very, very long time.

Ren stepped toward it. "Someone sealed this up on purpose."

"And I've just unsealed it." Sera's flame still danced in her palm. Her smile softened. "I have a feeling this journey with you will be worth it and fun."