PRETENDING THE WORLD DOESN'T WEIGH
The morning dawned with a sky covered in shades of gray. The mist descended like a silent blanket over the forests, and each leaf held tiny drops of dew that glistened in the first light. The lake where Caelithra had rested now seemed like an opaque mirror, shrouded in mists that made it almost mystical. The birdsong was sparse, occasionally interrupted by the distant murmur of the waters flowing down from the mountains.
Caelithra rose slowly, brushing the damp grass from her cloak. Her gaze lingered for a moment on the horizon. There was something about that place that conveyed calm, but also a strange sense of remoteness, as if she were in a corner of the world that didn't belong on any map.
"It's a good place to disappear," she murmured to herself. "But... is that what I want? To disappear from everything, from them, from him?"
With steady steps, she began descending the path that skirted the lake. The trail was narrow, barely marked, and led into a hidden valley. After a few hours of walking, a small village appeared before her, nestled among green hills and tall pines that sheltered it from the wind. The houses were made of wood and stone, with thatched roofs, and thick white smoke billowed from their chimneys, filling the air with the warm scent of woodsmoke.
It was a humble village, far from the well-trodden paths, a place where time seemed to stand still. People moved calmly, some working the land, others tending the animals, and children running barefoot along the dirt roads. No one seemed to know the weight of the fragments, nor the wars that had shaped the destiny of so many kingdoms. Here, everything was simple.
Caelithra entered cautiously. She noticed the curious glances of some villagers, but there was no hostility in them, only surprise at seeing a stranger. An old man, sitting on a bench by the entrance of a house, was the first to speak to her.
"Good morning, traveler. We don't usually receive strangers here. Where are you from?"
Caelithra stopped in front of him and smiled faintly. "From very far away... and even farther than you can imagine."
The old man chuckled softly, not pressing the issue. "Well, nobody asks too many questions here. If you're looking for a place to rest, the inn at the end of the road always has a corner for the weary."
She bowed her head in gratitude and continued on her way. As she walked, she heard the murmurs of people, the laughter of children, the hammering of a blacksmith in his forge, and the sound of cows in the corrals. Everything was so different from what she had left behind.
He entered the inn, a warm place with worn wooden tables and walls decorated with simple tapestries. A robust and friendly woman approached him.
"Welcome. Solo traveler?"
"Yes," Caelithra replied softly. "I'm looking for a quiet place to spend a few days."
The innkeeper looked at her with a certain tenderness. "You'll find it here. Most of those who come to us don't do so by chance, but because they're looking for silence. Would you like something to eat?"
"Yes, I would really appreciate it," Caelithra replied, sitting down at one of the tables.
As the woman served her a plate of warm bread, vegetable soup, and a jug of water, Caelithra silently observed the others. There were farmers chatting animatedly, a couple of young men discussing the harvest, and a child drawing figures on the wooden table with a small knife. Life here had a different rhythm, far removed from the tragedy and chaos she knew.
While she ate, she let her thoughts surface, almost like a dialogue with herself.
"Zyrion would be uncomfortable here. Not because he disliked the peace and quiet, but because he would never stop thinking that he should be somewhere else, fighting, protecting. Karion, on the other hand, would enjoy the food, laughing with the villagers, as if he were one of them. And Kyrahna… she would look suspiciously at everyone, wondering what secrets they were hiding. I… I'm just trying to remember who I am in the middle of all this."
A voice interrupted his thoughts. It was a young man from the village, with light hair and a curious expression.
"You don't look like you're from around here. Do you have a name?"
Caelithra looked at him calmly. She hesitated for a few seconds, but answered honestly. "Caelithra."
The young man frowned slightly. "Strange name... I've never heard of it."
"It's better this way," she murmured. "In other places, that name brings too many questions."
The boy laughed. "We don't ask many questions here. We just like to know who's sharing the table. Well, welcome, Caelithra. If you stay any longer, perhaps you'll forget whatever it is you're carrying in your eyes."
She looked down at the soup, which was slowly cooling. "I wish it were that easy to forget," she thought to herself.
Evening fell upon the village. The villagers lit torches and oil lamps that illuminated the dirt streets. The sounds of the day gave way to songs that some sang near the fire. Caelithra left the inn and walked along the paths, breathing in the cool night air.
He stopped in front of a solitary tree on the outskirts of town. He leaned his back against the trunk and gazed up at the starry sky.
"Zyrion…" she whispered, her eyes closed. "If you could see this place… perhaps for a moment you would stop fighting against fate. Perhaps you would understand that there are still corners of the world that know nothing of war or fragmentation. And I… I just wonder if I will ever have the courage to return to your side."
The wind gently stirred the branches, as if in response to her words. Caelithra stood there, silent, letting herself be enveloped by the calm of a village that knew neither her name, nor her guilt, nor her past battles.
For that night, at least, she could pretend she was just another traveler in search of peace.
Morning in the village arrived with a gentleness unlike anywhere else. There was no clash of swords, no distant roar of dragons, no echo of fragments calling to her. Only the murmur of a river flowing nearby, the clucking of hens in the coops, and the voices of the villagers beginning their day.
Caelithra opened her eyes slowly. She had spent the night in a small room at the inn, where the bed was modest but warm, covered with handwoven blankets. The scent of old wood permeated the air, and the dim light filtering through the window illuminated specks of dust floating like tiny stars caught in a golden beam.
He sat up and went to the window. From there he could see the village waking up. The women were sweeping their doorways, the men were carrying firewood, and a group of children were chasing a skinny dog that barked as if this game were the most serious of all.
"So simple... so pure," Caelithra thought silently. "And I, with my shadows and secrets, am here like an intruder."
She decided to go down to the dining room. The innkeeper, always attentive, greeted her with a smile.
"Good morning, traveler. I hope you slept well."
"Yes, enough. Your inn is a better refuge than I expected," Caelithra replied calmly.
"I'm glad to hear it," the woman said as she served a plate of fresh bread and some cheese. "We don't have luxuries here, but the heart of the place is in its simplicity. And you seem like someone who carries a lot. Sometimes the world out there is too heavy."
Caelithra stared at her for a few seconds, surprised by her words. "The world is heavy, yes… and there are days when you wish you could forget everything."
"Then forget it," the innkeeper said simply. "Even if only for a moment, even if only while you eat this bread. Sometimes, a moment of forgetting can save us."
Caelithra smiled slightly, grateful for that simplicity that seemed to hide wisdom.
She finished her breakfast and decided to go out and explore the village. The dirt ground was still damp from the previous night's drizzle. Children ran through puddles, splashing each other with laughter that filled the streets. Some watched her curiously, as her dark hair and different clothes betrayed her as a stranger.
As she passed the forge, the blacksmith greeted her with a gesture. "You're not from around here, that's obvious. But if your boots need mending, my hands are always ready."
"No, thank you," she replied, pausing for a moment. "Although I won't deny that your hammers sound almost like a melody. Don't you ever tire of repeating the same blows, day after day?"
The man let out a husky laugh. "Every blow I strike sustains this village. When I repair a tool, someone can plant seeds. When I forge a nail, a house stands firm. Perhaps to you, who come from afar, it seems repetitive. To me, it's about keeping life going."
Caelithra remained thoughtful. "Keeping life going... I understand that more than you think."
She continued on her way. The morning air was filled with aromas: freshly baked bread, herbs drying in the sun, and the gentle smoke from the chimneys. There was a rhythm in that village that enveloped her. Each person seemed to have a place, a function, and at the same time a tranquility she hadn't felt in a long time.
She stopped in the central square, where a small market stood with stalls selling fruits, vegetables, fabrics, and handicrafts. There she was approached by an elderly woman with a wrinkled face but bright eyes.
"Young man, would you like to try my herbs? They're good for tiredness, for memory... even for a broken heart."
Caelithra raised an eyebrow, amused. "And how do you know I'm carrying a broken heart?"
The old woman smiled as if she had read her thoughts. "You don't need to see it. You can feel it in your eyes. The eyes of those who have loved and lost always hold a different kind of light, like a fire that refuses to go out."
For a moment, Caelitra remained silent. She lowered her gaze to the herbs, gently touching one of them.
"Perhaps I'm right," he finally admitted. "Perhaps I carry a heart that doesn't yet know where it belongs."
"Then stay here for a while," the old woman insisted. "Sometimes the heart needs silence to hear its own beat again."
Caelithra bought a small bundle of herbs and continued on her way. As she walked, she wondered again and again if Zyrion was thinking of her. The last time she had seen him, tension had torn them apart. She had chosen to leave, believing it was the wisest course, but now… in the quiet of the village, her doubts grew stronger.
"How is he? Has he continued moving forward without looking back? Or does he still think that somewhere in this world I'm still breathing for him?"
As evening fell, the villagers gathered in the square. They lit a fire in the center and began to play simple instruments: wooden flutes, small drums, and voices singing ancient songs. Caelithra watched from a distance, not daring to join in.
A woman from the village, with a broad smile and hands calloused from work, approached him.
"Come. Here, no one is a stranger when the fire burns. Share with us."
Caelithra hesitated for a moment, but accepted. She sat down beside them, and they soon offered her a bowl of homemade wine.
"What is the name of your home?" one of the villagers asked, looking at her with interest.
She took a sip before answering. "My home... is hard to name. Maybe it doesn't even exist anymore."
"We all have a home," another insisted. "It can be a place, a person, or a memory. But it's always there."
Caelithra remained silent. She gazed at the fire before her and thought of Zyrion, of Karion, of Kyrahna. Of everything they had been together.
"My home... maybe it's not a place. Maybe it's those I left behind."
The villagers asked no more questions. They simply let her speak to the fire and the silence.
Night fell, and when the sky was filled with stars, Caelithra moved away from the group. She sat alone beneath an oak tree on the outskirts of the village. The wind caressed her hair, and the tall grass whispered with her every movement.
"Zyrion…" she murmured, her voice barely a whisper. "If you could see me now… if you could see how I try to forget… what would you say to me? Would you ask me to come back? Or would you leave me here, in this village that knows neither my name nor my sins?"
Silence was their only response, broken only by the crickets and the distant murmur of the river.
For that night, Caelithra allowed the tranquility of the place to embrace her. But deep in her heart, she knew she couldn't stay forever. Destiny, sooner or later, would come for her.
It will not end with the next Master.