The city greeted them with color and motion.
Inside the wall of trees, the paths wound upward in slow spirals — wooden walkways carved into the trunks, with railings grown from living vines. The air smelled of moss and incense, and overhead, the lanterns swayed like drowsy stars. Cultivators passed by in clusters, dressed in robes of green, silver, and black.
No one paid them more than a glance.
Riven followed quietly as Elder Syen led them up a narrow stairway wrapping one of the central trees. The wood beneath their feet was soft but solid, like it had been trained to grow flat. The higher they climbed, the quieter it became — until they reached a shaded alcove built into the side of the trunk, with a small swinging sign carved into a stylized knot of branches.
A lodge.
Not a grand one, but not shabby either. Just quiet. Discreet. Its door was open, and the interior glowed with warm lanternlight and soft brown wood.
Inside, the walls were curved with the shape of the tree, and the floors followed its grain. There were multiple levels, Riven noticed — some rooms above, others descending below through stairs carved into the core.
Elder Syen approached the front desk, exchanged a few quiet words, and passed over a small seal. The woman behind the desk, sharp-eyed and wearing a plain robe, nodded once and handed over a set of thin wooden tokens.
"Three rooms," Syen said, turning to them. "Two each. Mei stays with Lara and Talia. Ziren and Riven take another room. I'll take the last."
No complaints. No questions. They took the tokens silently.
It wasn't like complaining would do anything anyway.
Elder Syen would keep the solo room.
Besides, Riven looked at the others, he was sure they were glad they didn't have to share a room with the elder either.
With a dry voice he added on. "You'll have two days to rest and explore. We'll regroup for the banquet on the morning of the third day. Don't be late."
He turned and walked off down the hall without another word, his robe trailing slightly behind him.
Riven remained in the entrance for a moment longer.
Two days. That was more than enough time.
He already knew what he was doing.
He didn't come here for sightseeing or food stalls or sect politics.
He was going to find a map.
And if luck finally favored him —
He was going to find home.
"Let's drop our stuff off first."
The voice came from his side — low, even.
Riven blinked.
Ziren.
That was… probably the first time he'd spoken to him. Directly, at least. Riven glanced over. The other disciple's face was as unreadable as ever, but there was something a little looser in his posture. Less like a stone pillar, more like a person.
Maybe spending three days next to Mei had softened him.
Riven gave a short nod. "Sure."
They headed up a narrow staircase to the second level of the lodge, where their room sat tucked beneath a curved beam of smoothened bark. The space inside was simple — two beds, a storage trunk, and a slatted window that overlooked the upper walkways of Verdance.
Riven dropped off his satchel, checked his pouch, then turned to leave.
"I'll be back later," he said.
Ziren gave a wordless nod and turned toward the window.
>>>
Riven paused at the foot of the lodge's staircase, then turned to the innkeeper.
"Do you know where I could find maps?" he asked.
She blinked at him once, then pointed through the window toward a cluster of trees further inward, their trunks draped in thick roots and blooming with vivid orange flowers that curled out of the bark like flame.
"See those trees?" she said. "The ones with the orange blossoms. They're like shopping streets in normal cities — only vertical. Check the shops there. You'll find something."
He nodded his thanks and left quickly.
Excitement that buzzed in his chest.
But he couldn't help it.
This was the first time since waking up here that he might actually find a clue. A direction. Something he recognized. Something that pointed home.
He followed the innkeeper's directions, weaving through the thick canopy walkways and angled platforms that spiraled around the trees. The ones with orange blossoms were easy to find — they loomed ahead like beacons, their bark wrapped in soft petals and shop signs. Stalls, counters, open-air vendor shelves all tucked into the trees like birds' nests.
It felt... alive. Busy, but relaxed.
He stepped into the first stall that looked promising — a shaded booth tucked into the hollow of a tree trunk, with hanging charms, folded paper guides, and bundled scrolls stacked in narrow crates. An old man sat behind the counter, hunched with age, his robes stained with ink and a brush tucked behind one ear.
Riven stepped forward, gaze falling on a sealed scroll lying atop a small lacquered platform.
It was labeled in clean script:
"Verdance and Outskirts."
"Can I see that one?" he asked.
The old man gave him a long, patient look. Then shook his head. "Not until you pay."
Riven blinked. "I just want to look—"
"I'm sure you do," the man cut in, not unkindly. "But cultivators have sharp eyes and sharper minds. You read it once, memorize it, and I never see you again. I'm not a library."
Riven hesitated.
Makes sense. But...
He glanced down again. The scroll was tightly wound, sealed with a simple binding tag that would snap if disturbed. He couldn't even get a glimpse of the style.
With no choice, he asked, "How much?"
The man held up one finger. "One halfmoon coin"
Riven reached into his inner pouch and felt the cool jingle of coins.
Ten coins — each made of polished greenstone.
Most of the land, as Riven had learned from the sects library, was under the control of a big empire called the Sunken Moon Empire.
And this empire was also responsible for the current currency.
They minted a unique material called greenstone, which they then forged in a special way to create coins.
Every coin was cut in one of three shapes:
A square-shaped hole in the center marked the lowest value — a square coin.
A curved half-moon cutout marked the mid-tier — a halfmoon coin, worth a hundred square coins.
And the highest, a perfect circular cutout — the fullmoon coin, worth ten halfmoons.
He'd been given ten halfmoon coins by the sect before they departed. Because sect merit coins weren't worth anything out here. It was a modest travel allowance — enough for food, basic supplies, and maybe some souveniers.
But if a simple map like this already cost one halfmoon coin...
The map seller still held up one finger. "Are you buying? Or not?"
Riven's fingers closed around one of the crescent-carved coins.
He could afford it.
But...
This map was labeled "Verdance and Outskirts". Just the city and its nearby roads. A local merchant's map. Not a province map. Not a national one. Certainly not something that would show anything close to home.
And if he spent now — and came across a more complete map later — one that actually mattered...
He'd have wasted one-tenth of his total allowance. For nothing.
What if that map then cost ten coins?
Riven frowned. The regret would eat him alive.
He slowly drew his hand back from his pouch.
"I'll think about it," he said quietly.
The old man gave a half-shrug, already reaching to put the scroll back. "Don't expect me to hold onto it for you."
Riven said nothing. He turned and stepped away, back into the winding platform walkways — the scent of blossoms and tree sap thick in the air.
He'd try another shop.
Somewhere in this city, there had to be something better.
There had to be.
And when he found it, he needed to have enough left to buy it.
He just hoped greenstones would be enough.