Chapter 183: the road to Maelstrom

ASTER'S POINT OF VIEW

The mountain air was different when you were leaving it behind.  

For seventeen years, the cold winds had been my home, my sanctuary. The snow-covered peaks, the hidden valleys, the ever-present scent of pine and magic, these were all I had ever known. But now, as we descended from the village, leaving behind the only life I had ever lived, I realized something.  

I was not prepared for the world beyond these mountains.  

And yet, I had no choice but to face it.  

The march had started at dawn. Fifty men and women, hardened by training, their weapons strapped to their backs, their cloaks pulled tight against the cold. Riven walked beside me, silent as ever, his sharp eyes scanning the path ahead. He was the only one among us who had truly seen the outside world, the only one who knew the dangers that lay ahead.  

I had only left the village once before, when I was a child, too young to remember. But now, every step I took felt like I was shedding the past, piece by piece.  

The further we walked, the more the air began to change.  

The crisp cold of the mountains gave way to something heavier, damper. The scent of snow faded, replaced by the earthy aroma of forests. The path, once familiar, became rough and treacherous, winding down into valleys I had only ever seen from a distance.  

“This is where the real journey begins,” Riven murmured as he stepped ahead, motioning for the others to follow.  

I tightened my grip on the hilt of my sword.  

I had spent time training, preparing for this moment. But the truth was, no amount of training could prepare me for the unknown.  

The first week was the hardest.  

Without the magical protections of the village, we were exposed to the harsh elements, to hunger, to exhaustion.  

The forests we traveled through were dense and filled with unseen threats. The nights were worse. No more warm fires in familiar homes—only the dim glow of torches, the sound of wolves howling in the distance, and the constant feeling of being watched.  

We set up camp in clearings, always keeping a few men awake to stand guard. The few times I managed to sleep, my dreams were restless—flashes of Yong’s lifeless body in the snow, my mother’s sorrowful eyes, the laughter of a sister who was no longer here.  

Every morning, I woke up with renewed anger.  

And every morning, I pushed forward.  

On the fourth day, the rain started.  

It came down in sheets, drenching us to the bone, turning the dirt paths into thick mud that clung to our boots. We pressed on, unwilling to waste time seeking shelter. But the storm was relentless, the winds howling through the trees, the lightning illuminating the path ahead like flashes of warning.  

Then, on the fifth night, the wolves came.  

It started with the sound of low growls, just beyond the flickering fire. Riven was the first to hear it, his hand instinctively reaching for his sword.  

I sat up, instincts screaming at me to be ready.  

The others followed suit, eyes darting into the darkness.  

Then, the first pair of glowing eyes appeared.  

Then another.  

And another.  

A dozen wolves, their forms barely visible beyond the firelight. Their hunger was palpable, their bodies lean with starvation.  

“They’ve been tracking us,” one of the mages muttered.  

I stood slowly, my heart pounding in my chest. I had never fought wolves before. Training against human opponents was different—humans could be reasoned with, but wild beasts?  

They only understood one thing.  

I drew my sword, its metal gleaming in the firelight. “We hold our ground,” I ordered. “Do not let them separate us.”  

Riven stepped forward, his own blade at the ready. “They’ll test us first. If we falter, they’ll attack.”  

As if on cue, one of the wolves lunged forward.  

I barely had time to react. My sword came up, slashing across its side, but not before its claws raked across my arm. Pain flared, hot and sharp, but I gritted my teeth and drove my blade into its chest.  

The wolf collapsed, whimpering.  

Silence fell.  

Then, as if enraged by the death of their kin, the rest of the pack charged.  

The fight was brutal, chaotic. Swords flashed, arrows flew, and the scent of blood filled the air. A mage beside me sent a blast of fire at one of the wolves, sending it yelping into the darkness. Another wolf clamped its jaws around a warrior’s leg, dragging him to the ground before a blade silenced it.  

I moved on instinct, striking down anything that came too close. My arm throbbed from the wound, but I ignored it.  

Then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over.  

The surviving wolves fled, leaving behind the bodies of their fallen.  

Panting, I wiped the blood from my blade and looked around.  

Two men were injured, but alive.  

We had won.  

But I knew this was only the beginning.  

The land began to change as we traveled further south.  

The towering mountains were gone, replaced by rolling hills and wide plains. Villages dotted the landscape, settlements that had no idea war was marching past them.  

For the first time in my life, I saw a real town.  

Not just a collection of homes, but a bustling place filled with merchants, travelers, people who did not know of the battles we fought in the shadows.  

We stopped briefly, gathering supplies, but I could feel the stares.  

We were outsiders, strangers with weapons and wary expressions.  

I realized then just how different the world outside the village was.  

These people did not live in fear. They did not wake up every morning preparing for war.  

I envied them.  

And I resented them.  

How could they live so peacefully while my mother suffered? While Yong and Lira lay dead in the snow?  

The anger burned inside me like an unquenchable fire.  

“We should move,” Riven said, noting my clenched fists. “This is not our world.”  

Not yet, I thought.  

It took two more weeks to reach the borders of Maelstrom.  

By then, we were stronger. Hardened by the journey, by the fights we had endured, by the silent rage that fueled our every step.  

But as we stood on the edge of the kingdom my father ruled, I realized something.  

This was not just war.  

This was home.  

The home I had never known.  

The place where I was meant to belong, yet had never set foot in.  

I clenched my fists, feeling the magic pulse through my veins.  

I would not falter now.  

Not when I was this close.  

I turned to my men, my brothers.  

“We have come far,” I said, voice steady. “We have suffered, but we have endured. And now, we stand on the edge of destiny.”  

I let my gaze travel over each of them, seeing the fire in their eyes, the unshakable resolve in their stance.  

“We do not stop until the throne is ours.”  

A murmur of agreement spread through them, growing into a roar of determination.  

I turned back to Maelstrom.  

"Father," I thought.  

"I am coming"