Elara and Esme approached Krill, who was busy packing up their belongings.

  "Hey, Krill," Esme called, her tone light. "Mind if we join you on your way to Heimshore?"

  Krill looked up, a smile spreading across his face. "Of course! We’d be happy to have capable fighters along."

  Relief settled over Elara. They had a clear destination now, and even better—companions to share the road.

  As they discussed the details of their route, Slynn sauntered over, a familiar glint of mischief in his eye.

  "Well, well," he drawled, amusement lacing his voice. "Looks like our paths are crossing again, Alira."

  Elara raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile on her face. "It appears so," she replied evenly. "Seems like we'll be traveling together a bit longer."

  Slynn's expression grew more serious, though warmth lingered in his eyes. "In all seriousness, I'm glad for the chance to make up for my less than stellar first impression." He touched the brim of his hat, looking almost sheepish.

  Elara's smile softened. She shook her head. "Don't worry about it," she reassured him. "We all have our moments."

  Slynn’s grin returned as he clapped his hands together. “Well then, I suppose I’ll have to work extra hard to dazzle you with my wit and charm from here on out.”

  Elara shook her head with a small smile. “We’ll see,” she said, her voice warm, teasing but without any real challenge.

  As their conversation wound down, she turned her attention to Krill and Esme, who stood nearby discussing their route. Krill gestured as he spoke, outlining their path, while Esme occasionally interjected with details of her own.

  Wildrush River. Fox Leap Crossing. The names meant nothing to Elara. She tried to follow along, but the unfamiliar landmarks made it difficult.

  Krill pointed toward the horizon, mapping out their route. “We’ll start at Wildrush River,” he explained, “follow it north until we reach Fox Leap Crossing. From there, it’s a straight shot through the Mountain Pass.”

  Esme nodded. “The river’s current can be strong, so we’ll need to be careful. And the crossing is notorious for being treacherous, especially after bad weather.”

  Elara listened intently, committing the details to memory.

  As their discussion continued, Ignatius and Tirn approached. Esme’s expression softened at the sight of them. Stepping forward, she pulled each into a quiet embrace, murmuring something just for them.

  When Ignatius turned to Elara, he had a kind smile on his face. “I regret that we didn’t have the chance to get to know each other better,” he said softly. “But I wanted to give you something.” He reached into his robes and pulled out a folded piece of paper. As he handed it to her, Elara unfolded it to find a map.

  “This is a rough sketch of how to reach the capital,” Ignatius explained. “It highlights some key landmarks and potential hazards. I hope it helps you navigate the journey ahead.”

  Elara studied the sketch, noting the simple but useful details. It also depicted the river, the crossing and the mountain pass Krill and Esme talked about. There were also brief annotations that might be useful for someone unfamiliar with the terrain.

  The lines were a bit wobbly, and the proportions were off, but it was still an incredible gift. Ignatius, looking a bit sheepish, admitted it wasn’t accurate in terms of distance or scale, but it would at least point her in the right direction.

  “Thank you,” she said, sincerity threading through every word. “This means more to me than you know.”

  She had no immediate plans to head for the capital, but just having a partial map—some sense of where she was—filled her with gratitude. She could only imagine the time and effort Ignatius had put into drawing it.

  As she studied the map, she noticed lines connecting different locations, each labeled with a name. Routes, she realized. Every marked town had a name beside it as well. She wondered if it was common for people to create maps this detailed—not just marking places, but the paths between them.

  Ignatius smiled warmly, as if reading the silent question in her eyes. Beside him, Tirn gave a subtle nod—a quiet farewell rather than a formal goodbye.

  As they walked away, the two figures moved with a purposeful, measured stride. Ignatius’s robes billowed slightly with each step, while Tirn’s more practical attire blended seamlessly into the forest. Their silhouettes grew smaller against the dense trees, until the evening shadows swallowed them whole.

  Esme stood quietly, her gaze lingering on the path they had taken. Her eyes softened, touched by a quiet melancholy as she watched them fade into the distance. The forest seemed to close in, wrapping the moment in stillness.

  Elara remained still, her thoughts quiet but steady. Her fingers traced the edges of the map, its rough lines and annotations now a tangible link to the path ahead. Each mark pulsed with possibility, a gateway to the unknown.

  Her mind drifted to the kindness of her companions—their warmth, their generosity in a world that still felt unfamiliar.

  Esme finally turned from the spot where Ignatius and Tirn had vanished. She glanced at Elara, meeting her gaze with a nod.

  Slynn stepped up behind her, peering over her shoulder at the map. "Hmm, not bad," he mused, his tone carrying a hit of appreciation. "Ignatius seems to have a knack for this sort of thing."

  He traced a finger along the route Esme and Krill had discussed, stopping at Heimshore. “See? This is the path we’re taking—Wildrush River, Fox Leap Crossing, then straight through the Mountain Pass to the river where Heimshore is.”

  Krill, watching Slynn’s movements, gave a nod. “That’s right. It’s the most direct route.”

  Then, turning to Esme, his expression grew more serious. “I wanted to ask—would you be able to carry Velma during the journey? I don’t think any of the rest of us could manage it for the entire trip.”

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  Esme's brow furrowed slightly as she considered the request.

  Krill continued, “Of course, we can take turns if needed. But you’re the best suited for it.”

  Esme's expression softened. "Sure," she agreed easily. "I'll make sure she's safe and comfortable."

  As the group gathered their belongings, preparing for the journey ahead, Elara carefully folded the map and tucked it into her satchel.

  Krill turned to walk toward Selly, who sat in front of the tent where Velma rested.

  Esme spoke as he moved away. “I’m familiar with the road from Fox Leap Crossing onward,” she said, her voice carrying a note of confidence.

  Selly, hearing them approach, looked up. She stood up. "Are we leaving now?" she asked, her eyes darting between Krill and Esme.

  Krill nodded, his expression serious. "Yes," he confirmed, his voice steady.

  Selly straightened, giving a sharp nod in response.

  Esme strode past them, heading into the tent to retrieve Velma. Selly followed close behind, ready to assist.

  Moments later, Esme emerged with Velma securely positioned on her back. Selly trailed behind, a coil of rope in her hands.

  "Esme," Selly called out, a note of concern in her voice. "Could I secure Velma on your back? It might make the journey easier for both of you."

  Esme paused, considering. After a brief moment, she nodded. "Sure," she said, her tone appreciative. "Let's do that."

  Selly stepped forward, uncoiling the rope as she approached. With deft movements, she looped it around Esme and Velma, creating a makeshift harness that offered better support and ensured Velma stayed secure.

  Elara couldn't help but admire the scout. She was well-versed in the practical aspects of traveling and knew how to adapt to the needs of her companions.

  As Selly tightened the last knot, Esme shifted her weight, testing the arrangement. After a slight adjustment, she gave Selly a satisfied nod.

  Elara’s attention drifted to Krill, who had begun dismantling their campsite. Instead of packing their gear into bags, as she expected, he simply piled everything into a heap. Her brow furrowed in confusion as she watched.

  Then, with a casual motion, Krill reached out and touched the pile. In an instant, the items vanished.

  Elara blinked. Had she imagined that?

  Slynn, catching her bewildered expression, leaned in. "Impressive, isn't it?" he said, amusement threading through his voice. "That's a storing item Krill's wearing on his finger. Quite the handy little trinket."

  Elara’s eyes widened. “A storing item?” she echoed, voice low with wonder.

  Slynn nodded, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he gestured towards Krill. "See that insignia on the ring? It’s on his mantle too. Marks him as a member of the Temple of Hope."

  Elara's gaze followed Slynn's gesture, noticing the matching symbols for the first time. Delicate vines intertwined with stars, subtly woven into the fabric of Krill’s mantle and engraved onto the ring’s band.

  “The Temple’s mark means no one’s likely to steal it,” Slynn went on, his tone casual but edged with respect. “Not unless they want to deal with the Temple’s wrath. And it’s more than just security—it’s a status symbol. Everyone knows Krill’s part of the Temple. Quite the comfortable position, that. Wouldn’t mind some of those perks myself.”

  Elara nodded, filing the information away.

  Her thoughts churned as she tried to digest what Slynn had said. Hope—it was a comforting idea. But the word “Temple” carried weight. It evoked images of devotion, doctrine, and perhaps something more rigid beneath the surface. Was the Temple of Hope truly benevolent, or was there something else behind its name?

  She glanced at Slynn, catching the faint glimmer of envy in his eyes as he spoke of its advantages.

  “What kind of benefits?” she asked, keeping her tone casual, though her curiosity was real. If the Temple of Hope had items like the storing ring, what else did they offer? And more importantly—what did someone have to do to gain those advantages?

  Slynn chuckled, leaning back slightly, as if savoring the chance to elaborate. "Oh, plenty," he said, ticking them off on his fingers. "Access to their extensive libraries—filled with knowledge of the world and all sorts of skills. Then there are their healing wards, where even the worst wounds can be mended faster than anywhere else. Members also get discounts on trade with allied merchants and priority passage through some of the more dangerous regions…" He smirked, clearly impressed himself. "And, of course, protection. The Temple looks after its own. If you're marked, you’re under their wing."

  Elara’s mind spun with the possibilities. Access to knowledge sounded invaluable, and having a safety net—especially in a world where she had no one—was undeniably tempting. But a lingering unease remained. The more she heard, the more the Temple sounded like something far larger than just an organization offering aid.

  “So, it’s like a guild then?” she asked, trying to pin down its nature. “You join, you get the benefits—but there’s a price for all that, isn’t there?”

  Slynn’s expression grew more thoughtful, his eyes narrowing as if weighing his words. “Well, it’s more than a guild,” he said slowly. “There’s the religious side, sure—they’ve got rituals, prayers, all that to honor their god. But the Temple isn’t just about faith. They’re woven into politics, trade, education, even parts of the law.

  “You don’t just sign up and get a membership card,” he continued. “You take on an identity. You align yourself with their principles, their influence.”

  Elara nodded, she kept her expression neutral, not wanting to betray her unease. “Sounds like they have a pretty big reach,” she said carefully, her eyes flicking back to Krill. “I guess that explains why people don’t want to cross them.”

  Slynn nodded, his demeanor shifting, a hint of seriousness creeping into his tone. “Exactly. They’re one of the few institutions left with that kind of sway. And they don’t take just anyone. Krill’s got talent—or he earned his place there. Most do, one way or another.”

  Elara mulled over Slynn's words, her curiosity now shifting toward him. What kind of person would choose to align themselves with the Temple's power—and what kind of person wouldn't? She turned to him, raising an eyebrow.

  "Have you ever thought about joining the Temple?" she asked, genuinely curious.

  Slynn burst out laughing, the sound hearty and unrestrained, echoing around them. He shot her a wide grin, clearly caught off guard by the question.

  "Me? Join the Temple?" He shook his head, still chuckling. "Absolutely not. I’ve got no interest in being part of some rigid hierarchy—too many rules, too much structure. I've never been one for kneeling to gods or following doctrine."

  She caught the plural. That was interesting. She hadn’t realized there were multiple deities in this world. The web of beliefs seemed vast, and she found herself eager to learn more.

  She glanced at Slynn. “If you don’t follow any doctrine, is there a god you’d choose if you had to?”

  Slynn smirked. “If I had to choose, I’d probably worship Vorak,” he said, eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’d toss up a prayer for a mountain of gold, retire early, and spend my days rotating between the same five taverns, living the good life.”

  He laughed, clearly unbothered by the idea of divine intervention. “I mean, what more could a man want? A tankard of ale, a warm fire, and no worries? Sounds like heaven to me.”

  Elara chuckled, amused by Slynn’s carefree outlook.

  "I suppose there are worse ways to spend your days," she said with a smile. "But isn’t there more to life than just taverns and gold?"

  Slynn shrugged, still grinning. "Maybe. But a little gold sure wouldn't hurt. And the taverns? They keep things interesting.” He leaned back slightly, his tone light but firm. “Besides, the gods have never done much for me, so why should I care what they think?"

  He winked, clearly enjoying the banter. "I’ve made it this far on my own, without any divine help. And I plan to keep it that way."

  She nodded, filing away this insight into Slynn’s worldview. His casual dismissal of the gods made her wonder—how common was that attitude? Did others share his skepticism, or was he an outlier? And what did that mean for those who did align themselves with deities and institutions like the Temple of Hope?

  Elara stole a glance at Krill. His expression remained unreadable, his focus elsewhere. He didn’t seem to be listening to their conversation, but she couldn’t help but wonder what he thought of Slynn’s irreverence.

  As a member of the Temple, did Krill feel a genuine connection to his god, or was his affiliation more about the benefits and status that came with it?

  The more she observed, the more she realized how layered this world was—its people and beliefs as varied as the stars in the sky. Understanding those dynamics, she suspected, would be crucial if she wanted to find her place in it.