Chapter 7: Danira (Part 2).

  ****

  Solmaris, Month: 94, Year: 226.

  They kept walking, but a faint trace of concern lingered in Jared’s eyes, even as he forced a confident smile.

  As the port finally came into view on the horizon, this time with the sea lapping half way to the top, floating platforms bustled with people.

  “Remember when you asked if the sea was drying up?” he said, giving Danira a mocking look.

  She rolled her eyes. “It’s my first time in a port city. I haven’t traveled as much as you, old man.”

  He snorted. “I'm in the prime of my youth.”

  After a brief exchange of playful jabs, Danira’s tone shifted, as if asking something she's been wanting to ask for a long time.

  “Did you ever fight Lara the Shining? Back when you were in the south?”

  Jared let out a short laugh. “Lara? Goddess, no. If I had, I wouldn’t be walking back with you right now. I’d be buried under a fancy stone.”

  Danira grinned. “She visited our village once. Several months ago. There were these thugs, mean bastards, who made life miserable for everyone. They extorted the vendors, scared the children, charged people to use the roads, even hurt some folks. The guards did nothing. Either they were in on it, or too scared to speak up.”

  She paused, her voice lowering with reverence. “Then Lara came. Stayed one week. By the end of that week, the thugs were gone. Locked up in the magistrate’s jail, every one of them. No fanfare. Just done.”

  Jared gave a soft grunt, looking ahead. “Sounds like the stories I've heard.”

  “Ever since then,” Danira said, “I’ve wanted to go south. I want to learn magic. Help people like she did.”

  Elise, walking beside her, glanced over and tapped her wrist and smiled at her.

  After a moment, she moved her fingers in quick gestures.

  Danira interpreted aloud, slowing her pace. “She’s asking… who’s the most powerful person you’ve ever fought?”

  Jared gave a crooked grin. “That’s an easy one.”

  He adjusted the leather strap across his chest. “Xolani the Burier.”

  The young women exchanged puzzled glances.

  “Who?” Danira asked, eyebrows raised.

  Jared chuckled. “Figures. You’re both too young. But he’s a big deal down south. Still breathing, last I heard. A Vessel of Oltikán, one of the more feared ones. He could pull stone from the earth, swallow entire squads in trenches, and leave nothing behind but their hats. That’s why they called him the Burier.”

  Danira’s eyes narrowed. “Did you win?”

  Jared gave a dramatic sigh. “That’s a story for another time, my young disciple,” he said mockingly. Then, with a grin, added, “But yeah. I won.”

  Danira gave him a suspicious look. “That sounded like a lie. Or maybe half a truth.”

  Jared laughed heartily “You don't have to believe me.”

  As the inn came into view, its stone walls and tiled roof glowing orange in the fading sunlight.

  He stretched as they reached the doorway. “All right. You two, go wash off all that sweat and mud. If you show up to Sig’s shop smelling like livestock, he’ll have a full-blown tantrum.”

  He turned toward the kitchen, already loosening the straps on his gear. “I’ll get dinner started. And trust me. You do not want to miss it.”

  Danira raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “You cook?”

  “I’ve been feeding stubborn soldiers and pickier travelers since before you two were born,” Jared said, waving a hand. “A man learns to season things right if he doesn't want complaints.”

  Elise smiled and gestured, her fingers dancing in a challenge.

  Danira grinned and translated. “She says you’ll have to prove it.”

  Jared shot them a confident look over his shoulder. “Gladly.”

  The two girls laughed and made their way upstairs, boots heavy on the wooden steps.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “An early start for dinner?” Danira had asked, halfway up.

  “He said it’s going to be elaborate,” Elise signed, her eyes bright with curiosity.

  There wasn’t much time to linger. They quickly changed out of their training clothes, rinsed off the worst of the mud, and slipped into clean tunics. Sig was probably already set up at the marketplace, and if they didn’t hurry, he’d spend the rest of the day grumbling about tardiness. By the time they stepped back outside, the streets of Solmaris were alive with motion, the sun still hanging high in a cloudless sky.

  At Sig’s stall, Danira’s voice rose cheerfully above the hum of the crowd. Her words flowed like the nearby river delta that emptied into the sea, fluid, warm, and full of confidence. She was simple and persuasive, catching the attention of passing sailors and townsfolk with ease.

  Beside her, Elise moved silently but with purpose, stocking and sorting goods with rhythm and speed. A lifetime without spoken language had made her a master of non-verbal communication. Her bright eyes and open gestures drew people in, Danira would take it from there, guiding each conversation toward a friendly sale.

  She was starting to like this work, and the training that came before it. Every successful trade felt like a small triumph, and every bruise from practice was a reminder that they were getting stronger, sharper, more capable. Each step brought them closer to making something of themselves, far from the life they left behind.

  Sig watched from nearby, arms crossed, nodding in quiet approval. Business was good.

  Danira had even grown to enjoy the sailor stories, half-believable tales told with too much laughter and too little detail. Most of them sounded... fishy… to say the least. Mermaids that sang sailors to sleep, ghost ships that vanished in fog, sea serpents as long as ten caravans. Wild, exaggerated stuff. Jared would fit right in.

  Sig told her several times, “You spend enough time stuck on a boat, your imagination starts wandering just to keep itself company.” He’d always end that thought with a booming laugh and say, “That’s why I do my business on solid ground.”

  However, today's conversations were quite different. No beautiful maidens in the ocean, no islands full of treasures, no giant sea monsters, no haunted ships. Snippets of conversation drifted toward Danira, intriguing fragments caught from passing sailors and merchants.

  "...heard the islands of the archipelago are emptying," a weathered sailor muttered to his companion.

  "More fairytales about 'The Taken'," his friend scoffed, shaking his head dismissively. "Drunk sailor's stories, nothing more."

  As the day in the market was over and they were on their way to Jared's dinner, Danira overheard another conversation.

  "It's true, I heard thousands are fleeing. Entire islands abandoned."

  "It's millions, I tell you. My cousin's friend saw ships overflowing with refugees. A pigeon brought his letter this afternoon.”

  -The Taken- As they continued walking, it was the one subject everyone seemed to be talking about.

  “Superstitious rubbish!” Sig's strong voice broke when Danira asked him about the topic. “Drunk sailors and gullible villagers always have a new strange story to tell.” He stopped for a moment, his amusement suddenly shifting to a serious look. “Yet, we might just be able to profit from the panic if we play our cards right.”

  A merchant nearby interjected nervously, "They say these beings, The Taken, are able to take over your mind and eat your soul."

  "And you believe all that?" Sig scoffed. "Next you'll be telling me you've seen them yourself."

  The merchant shook his head, uncertainty flickering across his face. "I haven't, but my brother heard from someone who swears he escaped. Says they tried to use him as a sacrifice for some sort of … of … dark ritual."

  They finally returned to the inn. The smell of spices and roasted meat wafted from the kitchen, rich and intoxicating. It hit them the moment they stepped inside, solhara, garlic, smoke, and something sweet. Mouths watered almost instantly.

  Everyone’s, except Danira’s.

  She had expected to be starving after the long day, but the scent only made her feel hollow. Maybe it was the stories still echoing in her ears. She had heard stories about -The Taken-, as a child, and they were always the kind of stories that took away her sleep. Now, hearing them from so many people at a time, she couldn't help but feel anxious, even when Sig and her own better judgments told her they were all a bunch of fairy tales.

  Dinner, at least, lived up to Jared’s boasting. The flavors were bold and balanced, the portions generous. Elise ate quietly but with real enjoyment, more than Danira had seen from her in days. She smiled between bites, her fingers occasionally fluttering in brief remarks regarding the food.

  Yet the room itself felt... off.

  Stories continued to drift in from passing merchants and travelers. Numbers of refugees varied wildly, from mere hundreds to impossible millions, all heading in panic to the east coast. Each account became more exaggerated, filled with conspiracy theories or outlandish details.

  “They blend among us and it's impossible to tell them apart from normal people. They might already be here… having dinner at this very table”. An armored guard whispered with a cautious and ominous voice. “My great grandpa told me that if you stand in front of a candle and pray to Solenya, they can't take over your mind.” A group of women discussed in the next table.

  "Whatever is truly happening," Jared finally said, looking solemnly at Sig, "we'd be wise to stay alert."

  Sig sighed deeply, shaking his head with stubborn skepticism. "We'll keep watch. But mark my words, this will all blow over soon enough."

  Whether or not the stories were true, the uneasy whispers of -The Taken- had begun to settle into Solmaris like an unsettling fog, impossible to ignore.

  Jared raised his forearm. “Everyone look away,” he warned.

  A moment later, his sunmark flared to life, glowing so brightly it cast long, jagged shadows across the mess hall.

  “If those Taken bastards come to these shores,” he said, voice hard, “I’ll show them what they’re walking into.”

  Elise smiled quietly. Jared had already begun to replenish his magic.

  The glow faded, leaving behind a faint warmth in the dim mess hall. It had been a dumb, theatrical move, but somehow, it worked. For a moment, the tension eased. No one spoke, but the weight in the room felt a little lighter, the fear pushed back just enough to breathe.

  However, Danira was still not at ease, she stepped away towards the roof, eyes drifting toward the horizon. The sky was fading into twilight, stars beginning to prick through the growing darkness. She found herself thinking of her family, wondering what they might be doing now, imagining their familiar routines, blissfully unaware of the growing rumors that filled her with dread.

  She turned down, looking back at Elise, whose gaze met hers with quiet understanding. How quickly the day had shifted. From the simple joy and success of a morning training session and the bustling market afternoon to the heavy uncertainty now clouding the evening air.

  Taking a deep breath, Danira returned Elise’s gentle smile, silently returning to the inside to wrap up the day.

  To Bram.

  I asked the sailors in the port. They told me that monsters as big as the castle do, as a matter of fact exist. One sailor told me he saw one that was so big, its eye was bigger than his ship, he says he was so insignificant compared to it, that the beast didn't even bother attacking him. The other sailors say he's making it up, but perhaps it's true. Nevertheless, creatures like this only seem to live in the deep sea.

  — Danira.

  Elise's Journey.

  Chapter 10: Zulanah (Part 1).

  Thank you very much for taking the time to read my story.