Chapter 129

When the time came, I offered my hand to Naevira and helped her to her feet.

“It’s time to meet Elarion and get you some clothes. Are you ready?”

She nodded.

“Hold on to my hand,” I said gently. “Don’t be afraid. We’ll move very quickly, but it will be over quickly.” I gave her a soft, steady smile meant to anchor her.

With her hand in mine, I stepped.

The world warped. Colors bled and slid around us like ink pulled through water. Naevira drew in a sharp breath - and then the patterns snapped into something new. The transition lasted less than a heartbeat. No motion. No pull. The world didn’t move. It simply became something else.

Elarion stood before us, a small pack in his hands.

Behind him, a waterfall spilled from a fifty-foot cliff into a quiet pool below, the water breaking into mist before gathering into a slow, winding stream. It wasn’t a grand waterfall - but it was beautiful none the less. Ancient trees ringed the clearing, their branches draped in long strands of moss. The canopy opened above the water, letting light spill through, but thickened quickly as the forest deepened.

A narrow wooden bridge arched across the stream - grown, not built. The roots of nearby trees had been coaxed from the earth, drawn together and shaped into a smooth, living span. It curved with a natural grace, seamless and elegant in a way only elven magic ever managed.

Elarion held out the pack.

“Thank you,” I said, taking it.

I turned to Naevira. “Let’s get you dressed.”

The dress was simple - brown, with green embroidery tracing along the hem and sleeves - and she managed it easily enough. The boots were another matter.

Even unlaced, they wouldn’t go on. Her ankle shifted in strange, fluid ways, never bracing, never giving the resistance needed to guide her heel through.

After a few attempts, frustration crept into her expression.

Then her feet changed. The pale, skin-like surface receded, drawing inward as the underlying bramble structure flowed and twisted. Vines tightened, reshaped, compressed - slipping neatly into the boots before expanding again to fill them.

Problem solved.

I offered her a small smile, easing the tension, and laced them up.

Once she was dressed, we returned to Elarion.

“I need to head to Caldris,” I told him. “More than ever now. I want to know what this Covenant of Mercy is doing. I’ll take Naevira with me. We can’t leave her alone, and I’m not adding another burden to your people.”

I turned to her. “That is - if you want to come with me. You don’t have to.”

She reached for my arm - not tight, but urgent. “You are the only people I know.” Her eyes flicked briefly to Elarion, then back to me. “I would go with you.”

I smiled. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

I looked back to Elarion. “You’ll continue your training. Help Master Iriandor. I’ll handle Caldris.” A faint grin tugged at my mouth. “And Naevira will keep me out of trouble.”

He nodded. “Farewell, thren,” he said, before turning and heading deeper into the forest.

Naevira tilted her head. “What is ‘thren’?”

“It’s Brel for father.,” I said, guiding her across the living bridge and onto the narrow path that wound east from Caelwynne.

She absorbed that quietly.

“Do you speak any languages besides Elithae?” I asked.

“I… don’t know,” she itted.

“Let’s find out.” I switched to English. “Do you understand Trade-tongue?”

Her brow furrowed. “Yes? Little… piece?”

I nodded, smiling. Progress.

“Korr Drath?” I asked.

She shook her head.

“Brel brel thu?”

Another shake.

“Khuldren thor?”

Nothing.

“Ulissae saei ven?”

Still nothing.

“One more,” I said with a smile. “Auralis… aethren?”

“I only understood the Trade-tongue,” she said. “What were the others?”

“Drath, Brel, Khuldren, Ulissae, and Auralis,” I explained, slipping back into Elithae. “Orc, goblin, dwarf, naga, and dragon. Those are the ones I’ve learned so far.”

She looked at me with quiet awe. “Seven languages… that is many. I know only one. And part of another.”

“I have a large family,” I said. “If I expect them to learn my language, it’s only fair I learn theirs. And it helps preserve who they are. Just because they live with me doesn’t mean they stop being elf, goblin, orc, or naga. Their cultures matter - whether they’re from Ilyr’Vaeneth, the Iron Nation, or anywhere else.”

She walked beside me in thoughtful silence for a moment. “You have put much effort into fatherhood,” she said at last. “That is commendable.”

“Maybe,” I said with a small shrug. “I feel it’s just my duty as a parent. I teach them what I can, but I need to them too. Learning their language does a bit of both.”

* * *

A few hours later, we crossed into Arvellia.

Caelwynne sat on the northern edge of Ilyr’Vaeneth, pressed close to Arvellia’s southern tip, with Caldris not far beyond. From my home, it was nearly two months’ travel.

Stepping made that distance meaningless.

I could cross half a continent in a heartbeat - so long as I had something to anchor to - a beacon of Faith. My family were the easiest to find. In the Faith-scape they burned like miniature suns, impossible to miss. Nothing else came close.

Other places were harder. The Faith-scape didn’t behave like a map. Distance wasn’t fixed or reliable. It was more like staring into a night sky and trying to judge which stars were closest. Some burned brighter, but that didn’t mean they were near. Others seemed almost touching, yet lay impossibly far apart. You learned to read it - or you got lost in it.

By sunset we reached Whitefen, a small town in southern Arvellia. After some inquiries, we found a small merchant caravan from Crownreach headed to Highcoin. I exchanged some coin for age and we ed their little camp just outside town.

This far south, I doubted anyone would recognize me. That helped. I didn’t want attention - not while we were looking into the Covenant of Mercy. I didn’t have the influence that would cause people to fall all over themselves to give me what I wanted. But I did have the influence to cause people to retreat into the shadows where I couldn’t find them. Influence cut both ways.

Dinner was simple. Bread, stew, a bit of dried meat. Naevira ate with us.

That surprised me. She hadn’t shown any hunger all day. I’d offered her food more than once - she hadn’t taken any of it. But now she did. Not much, but enough to matter. Enough to mean something had changed.

Afterward, we helped clean up. When the camp quieted and people began to settle, I pulled out my guitar.

With my family, I usually played songs from Earth. The music I grew up on - old metal, some rock, a mix of decades and noise and memory.

That wouldn’t work here. These were people who didn’t know I was a Nomad - a man from another world. They had no context for it - no knowledge of Earth and no base to form an appreciation for the music. They probably wouldn’t even understand half the words.

So I chose something from this world instead. Something that belonged.

A goblin tavern song - The Three Found Three.

I ran a quick translation into Trade-tongue in my head as my fingers found the chords. Then I started to play - light, upbeat, something that carried easily in the night air.

There once was a man in a crooked little town,
Where the ale ran thick and free,
And he met three girls in the tavern there
Where he swore “You’re the one for me.”
By candlelight and a brimming cup,
He pledged what love he’d show-
Three whispered vows in a single night,
And none of the three would know.

Oh the three found three, and they left him ‘lone,
Left him cold by the tavern door-
While the three found three of their very own,
And they’ll never want him no more!

Well the first found out by a ribbon red,
That didn’t match her own,
The second laughed when she heard the tale,
Said, “Sister, you’re not alone.”
And the third just leaned on the bar and smiled,
Said, “Girls, now don’t you see?
If he’s half the man that he claims to be,
He’s not half the man we need!”

Oh the three found three, and they left him ‘lone…

By the second refrain, people were already ing in. Smiling. Laughing. Someone clapped along off-beat.

By the third verse, the whole camp had the rhythm. Boots tapping. Hands clapping. Voices rising.

So they drank his ale and they spent his coin,
And they laughed till the rafters rang,
Then arm in arm they walked on out
While the whole damn tavern sang.
He stood there sad with an empty purse,
And a head full of what went wrong-
But the girls were gone and the night rolled on,
And the town took up their song.

Oh the three found three, and they left him ‘lone,
Left him cold by the tavern door-
While the three found three of their very own,
And they’ll never want him no more!
And they’ll never want him no more!

The last line rang out louder than the rest. Claps followed. A few whistles. Laughter rolled through the camp, easy and warm.

I played a few more songs after that - nothing long, nothing heavy. Just enough to keep the mood light, to give people something to carry with them into the night.

When things finally settled, the fire burned low and conversations softened to murmurs. Naevira and I stayed awake a while longer, talking quietly about nothing in particular. Small things. Easy things.

I turned in a little after midnight.

Naevira didn’t seem tired, but she stayed nearby as I lay down.

The last thing I felt before sleep took me was the quiet certainty that she was still there.

* * *

I woke to the thin gray light before dawn.

I sat up and stretched, working the dull ache of the ground out of my muscles. Once, that kind of sleep would’ve left me stiff for days. Now the soreness faded almost as quickly as I noticed it.

That didn’t mean I liked it.

I missed my bed. Missed my women. Missed the noise and motion of the keep - the constant chaos of my children. I hoped they were alright without me.

It had grown quieter lately. The ferals had moved on - newly ascended, eager to see the world for themselves. They had their own demesnes now. A world they’d never seen before. Power they didn’t yet understand.

They were nearly half my children. The absence they left behind was palpable.

When Elarion left to live with his kin, things quieted even more. We’d always gotten along well enough. But he needed his own path - his own people, his own life. I was proud of him for that. Genuinely. Even if I missed him.

He still visited. Once a month, give or take. The others came by too, though less often as time went on. Tansy least of all. I still didn’t know what to do with her - how to guide her, how to give her direction. Vel hadn’t come back yet, which meant they hadn’t found her.

That only made me worry more.

This world was too large, too strange - full of things I didn’t understand. I knew I couldn’t protect them from everything - but it bugged me that I couldn’t even educate them on the dangers since I didn’t know them myself.

I shifted, glancing beside me and felt a brief spike of panic when I found the space empty.

Then I saw her.

Naevira stood at the eastern edge of camp, still as a sapling in windless air.

The others were beginning to stir - soft voices, the rustle of gear, the low murmur of morning - but she seemed untouched by it.

I made my way over and followed her gaze.

Clouds caught the first light, painted in soft oranges and deep purples. The sky brightened by degrees until the sun finally crested the distant plains, spilling gold across the land.

We stood there in silence, watching it unfold.

“Vaelith thalen,” she said.

I smiled faintly. “You’re right,” I said. “It is beautiful.”