Before dawn had fully broken, they'd crept from the city's edge without a trace of Tameru. No signs, no notes, no whispered riddle were left in his place. After a bidding a difficult farewell to Nareen and the child, Ashem and Sahira had shouldered their packs and stepped into the old quarter alone. Ashem had understood that if people were after him, finding a solution far from his family was the easiest choice.
The city thinned around them. Cracked stone houses, their windows dark and eyeless, gave way to dust-choked courtyards and half-sunken archways. Vines crept over old murals and doorframes, swallowing the architecture one root at a time. The cobblestones narrowed, then broke apart completely. Soon, only a dirt path remained, winding its way into the throat of the jungle. The air grew thicker, the trees older and taller. Behind them, the old city of Zaruth disappeared into green and silence.
By midday, the jungle had grown thicker, the light overhead fractured by high canopies. They paused beneath a twisted fruit tree, sweat gleaming on their skin, the distant hum of insects thick in the air. Ashem crouched on a mossy rock, unrolling Kharan's map between damp fingers while Sahira stood nearby, nursing her shoulder with quiet breaths.
"These peaks here," Ashem said, pointing to a row of angular triangles at the top of the parchment. "That's the Serrathi Range, right?"
Sahira stepped closer, shading the map with one hand. "Mm-hmm," she nodded. "Six days from here, for experienced travelers."
From the center of those jagged symbols, two thin lines trickled downward, forking and winding like veins. "And this is the Lucin River," she added, her finger sliding down the page. "It splits at the bottom — see? That's Arashi Bay."
Ashem's gaze followed the delta to a tiny glyph nestled along the eastern edge. "That's Varashi," he said, recognizing the cluster of squares that marked his home. "And that one — " he pointed further upstream, to a smaller, enclosed drawing " — Zaruth."
Sahira nodded again but said nothing, her eyes on some of the other symbols — abstract swirls, crosses, and curling marks that littered the riverbanks. Ashem noticed her silence.
"Those ones — what do they mean?" he asked.
"The river brings memories from its origins," her tone cryptic. Ashem didn't dared to ask.
Halfway between the delta and the mountain peaks, a carefully inked drawing caught his eye: a stepped ruin topped with a lone spire.
"This one," he murmured. "That should be the Monastery."
"Most likely."
He studied the distance, mentally measuring. "Three days?"
"If we're lucky," Sahira said, rolling the map back up. "Four if the jungle has opinions."
Night was falling when they climbed the final bluff of the first day. At the cliff's lip stood a colossal tree whose roots clutched a weathered slab of stone etched with intricately carved square logographs. Ashem stepped forward, awestruck. To the west, the Lucin River carved its delta into Arashi Bay, the setting sun's gold mirrored in each meander. Eastward, the river vanished beneath a green canopy crowned by the Serrathi peaks, their summits already tasting starlight. All he saw was a sea of jungle, every landmark on the map swallowed by emerald.
He turned to Sahira and found her kneeling before the stone, one hand pressed to its base. Tears traced pale lines down her cheeks, but her expression was solemn — quiet, reverent. Ashem lingered a few steps behind, unsure whether to speak. He let her have her moment while enchanted by the landscape.
Then, after a deep breath, Sahira opened her eyes.
"These are Etzari inscriptions," she said, prompting Ashem to walk back to her. "It's a mantra, from the Scroll of Lareth — the second teaching." She traced characters that pulsed with a faint glow beneath her touch. "One is All, and All are One."
She lifted her gaze, eyes reflecting the ancient blue glow. "Through the stone — and the tree," she said, closing her eyes once more. "I see them — apprentices of old, chanting, laughing as they walked to the Monastery. I feel them — towards Famar…" She glanced at him, definition in her tone. "…the Past."
Ashem swallowed. "Can you — can you see into the future, then?"
Sahira shook her head gently. "Not clearly, not yet. Only those who peek outside the Stream can glimpse into Fasha, and attempt to change it," she explained while raising, her eyes tracing up the tree. "But I've been told that some who step entirely out of the Stream, are able to shape it — from Famar to Fasha."