The cart moved along the dirt road, creaking with every jolt. The path was long, flanked by vast green fields, broken here and there by small rocky streams that snaked across the land. A gentle breeze blew, carrying the fresh scent of vegetation and the distant calls of birds echoing to one another. In some places, clusters of trees rose sparsely, casting deep shadows beneath the morning sun.
On the horizon, dominating the landscape, stood the Old Mountain. A colossal hill, its rounded peak veiled in a fine mist. Its steep slopes were etched with ancient cracks, like scars carved by time itself—the mountain of his dreams. Beyond it, much farther away, lay the Desert of Jason, an inhospitable land of searing sand, home to the Reen tribe, who defied the harshness of that extreme environment. Nwyn had read stories of the Reen—warriors forged in heat, accustomed to surviving with little, feared for their endurance.
The road stretched on, straight and silent, with no signs of other travelers. A few scattered houses dotted the distance—small wooden and stone dwellings surrounded by cultivated fields. But there was no movement, no one in sight. Only the rhythmic sound of the cart wheels and the slow breathing of the horse.
Eventually, the bridge appeared ahead. Built of old stone, it stood firm over a river of turbulent waters crashing against the rocks along the banks. Nwyn felt his chest tighten as he recognized it. It was there that Leny claimed to have found the boy, wrapped in bloodstained cloth. Perhaps the old man had forgotten that detail, for he showed no reaction, but Nwyn's curiosity stirred—how had the child ended up there? Why was he covered in blood? And why was he carrying that with him as a baby? Why had he kept it all this time?
He pressed the bundle hidden within his clothes. The thoughts sent a chill across his skin, and almost without noticing, his eyes turned to the water.
The river seemed darker than it should've been, maybe due to the shadow cast by the bridge. But amid the dance of light and moving currents, something caught his eye: a golden shimmer. A quick glint, sinking and reappearing. At first, he thought it might be a dropped coin, reflecting the sun. His body leaned forward slightly, trying to follow the gleam between the ripples.
The dizziness hit suddenly. The world spun around him, and a strange weight pulled his body to the side. The sound of the river faded, as if he were falling into a deep, hollow void. Before he could react, his feet slipped, and
he tumbled from the cart, hitting the stone floor of the bridge with a dull thud.
His vision cleared.
...
..
.
The first thing I noticed when I opened my eyes was the gray sky, streaked with shadows cast by the stone bridge. The roar of the river echoed below, and I could still feel the tremor of the fall rattling my bones. I tried to move, but my body felt heavy, as if crushed by some invisible force.
I felt a weight press down on my shoulders, and a low, familiar voice called out:
— Can you hear me, kid?
It was Leny, his worried face leaning over mine. I tried to answer, but my mouth was dry, and no words came out. The world was still spinning, everything blurry.
A distant sound grew closer until a tall, red-haired man knelt beside me. He had the look of someone assessing the situation—eyes sharp, but with a touch of gentleness, as if he was used to handling moments like this. He placed a firm hand on my arm and slowly helped me sit up.
— You alright, boy? — he asked in a deep but calm voice.
I could only nod. Words still wouldn't come.
The man stepped back a little, and that's when I saw the woman in the distance. She was standing still, watching me with a cautious expression, though her eyes were kind—as if she was trying to understand me without rushing. Beside her were two children: a small girl clutching a rag doll to her chest, and a boy around ten years old, looking uneasy about the situation, but calmer than his sister.
Leny finally managed to pull me fully upright. He muttered something about "this not being the time for this kind of thing," but I was too dizzy to catch his words. The pain throbbed in my head, and the world seemed to drag on, slow and distorted.
— You'll be fine — Leny said, helping me back into the cart. His voice was quiet, but I could tell he was trying to hide a worry that wasn't entirely false. A flash, and then everything went dark for a few seconds, and then...
...
..
.
Nwyn jumped the bridg...
...
..
.
I sat on the cart bench, trying to keep my balance as he settled in beside me. The red-haired man and his family approached.
— What's wrong with him? — the woman asked.
— My pigs got the plague. He might've caught it — Leny said with a shrug.
— Swine plague doesn't spread to people — the man said, his brow tightening. — You should stop for a while, rest in the shade. The sun's strong today.
— Yes, yes, let's do that. — Leny said, with the bare minimum of gratitude. He treated the situation like a nuisance, more annoyed by the delay than concerned about me.
The man looked like he was about to protest, but the woman gently grabbed his right arm.
— Be well — she said. — And take care, boy. Drink plenty of water. This river's clean—fill your canteens while you can.
— Th-thank... you. — I managed to reply. She smiled. It was a beautiful smile.
— Are you heading south? — she asked.
— Central, really. We're leaving the southern road soon.
— Good to know. Things aren't looking good down south — the man said, his body finally relaxing. — We're heading north. Linteal. I've got a brother up that way.
— Good for you — said Leny. — Farewell.
The red-haired man opened his mouth again to speak, but once more, the woman stopped him, gently steering him back toward their cart, brushing her hand over the red curls of the little girl as they walked.
They both gave us a slight nod, and I saw the tension still lingering in their eyes.
Before they could leave, Leny gave them one last look, more serious than usual. He turned to the couple, let out a low snort, and said:
— Linteal's soldiers have been passing through these roads. That's never a good sign.
The woman exchanged a quick glance with her husband, and both nodded silently, as if absorbing the warning.
With one final wave, the couple moved on, heading toward the road that stretched northward. Our eyes followed them for a while, the children waving from the back of their cart, until the family vanished beyond the trees and into the horizon.
Leny moved his hand to the reins, and the horse neighed softly before beginning to move again, slowly.
Nwyn had thought he'd stop by the stream—a good patch of shade, a place for the horse to drink, a chance to rest and absorb everything that had just happened. But Leny just adjusted his hat and kept going.
I tried to focus my thoughts, to push away the lingering dizziness... but something strange began to happen.
...
The world in front of me began to twist, as if the edges of reality were being erased, dissolving into something thick and shapeless. The air grew heavier, as if gravity had suddenly deepened, pulling everything down. The light that had once illuminated the road dimmed, distorted—as though being swallowed by an invisible fog.
I felt the wind on my face, but it no longer seemed real, had no weight. The vertigo was consuming me. The sound of the cart's wheels faded away, replaced by a low, distant hum—like time itself was stretching, pulling everything from me.
I knew something was wrong, but I couldn't shake the feeling of loss, of being pulled toward a place I couldn't understand, a place of shadow.
I... forgot.
...
..
.
Nwyn blinked several times and then, all at once, the fog lifted. The light returned with clarity, and the sounds became sharp again — the creak of the wheels grinding along the dirt path, the steady rhythm of the horse's hooves striking the road, the wind brushing lightly against his skin.
The world, somehow, was back to normal.
He glanced around quickly, trying to make sense of what had just happened, to decide whether it had been real or merely a hallucination — but everything looked untouched, just as it had been before. The horse still moved forward, undisturbed, its hooves steady against the earth.
The scent of the surrounding greenery seemed stronger now, the distant chirping of birds once again part of the scene.
He did not forget.