The Map Only I Can Read

The morning sun hadn't yet burned through the mist when the small kitchen bustled with warmth. A simple breakfast of hot barley porridge and smoked root vegetables filled the table. The children chattered half-awake, while Evelyn moved briskly between bowls and spoons, her hair tied back with a frayed ribbon.

Ren sat quietly, soaking it all in. This odd little family he had stumbled into—he hadn't meant to belong to it, but a part of him already did.

Nico, eyes still heavy with sleep, tugged at Ren's sleeve. "Boss, You're leaving today?"

Ren nodded, then knelt so they were face to face. "Just for a while. I've got people waiting on me back home."

Nico puffed his cheeks. "You promise you'll come back?"

"I swear," Ren said, pressing his palm against the boy's chest. "But only if you promise to grow strong while I'm gone. Can't have you slacking off when I bring you gifts."

Nico grinned. "Yes boss, Deal!"

A few moments later, he stepped out with Evelyn. The street smelled of dew and old brick. As she handed him a wrapped bundle of dried bread and soft cheese, Evelyn glanced at the earrings she wore—his gift from the day before.

"You sure you've got everything?" she asked.

Ren looked back at her, expression soft. "Not everything. But enough."

They didn't hug. Didn't linger. They didn't need to.

The day had begun.

His first stop was the same merchant stable where he'd bought Becca. The merchant greeted him with a lazy grin, already rubbing his hands together.

"Told you I'd find one to match her," the man said, leading out a sturdy dark-coated gelding with frost-colored fetlocks.

"This is him?"

"He's calm, obedient, and eats like a polite guest. I call him Daro."

Ren reached out, brushing the horse's flank. Daro huffed softly, nuzzling his wrist.

"I'll take him," Ren said. "And I'll need another wagon—same size, same build, like that one."

With a quick deal and the help of two stablehands, Daro was hitched to the second wagon, now carrying supplies and trade goods packed the night before at the guild storage. Then, he set off again—this time toward the city's largest guild hall.

The guild square was already busy.

His escort team was waiting: four individuals, handpicked through quiet recommendations.

Caden, the swordsman, stood tall and clean-cut, arms crossed and armor modest but well-kept. A man of few words, but clear authority.

Kaela, the mage, was younger—barely twenty—with a book in her arms and sparks of magic clinging to her fingertips like dust. Curious eyes. Restless energy.

Solen, a saint with quiet poise and a calm voice. He wore black layered robes and a silver pendant that caught morning light.

And finally, Mirana, a broad-shouldered woman with a big hammer and quiet, observant attitude. Her cloak was worn, her boots heavy, but she stood like someone born for walls and war.

Ren greeted them with a nod. "Thanks for coming."

Kaela smiled. "Heard you were interesting. Let's find out."

Caden grunted. Mirana just checked the straps on her pack.

Solen offered a simple blessing. "Let us walk in peace and return in safety."

They set off before midday—two wagons total.

The first wagon carried Ren's supplies and Becca, led by a deliveryman named Lanton, hired from the guild's pool of trusted drivers. He rode with Caden, who served as the forward guard.

The second wagon, more lightly loaded, carried Kaela and Solen. Mirana walked beside it, occasionally adjusting the ropes or scanning the horizon. Ren walked with her most of the way, occasionally taking the lead to speak with Lanton.

They moved slowly but efficiently. Snow had thinned in the last few days, and the roads remained firm.

***

During a long stretch of road bordered by frozen fields, Kaela walked up beside Ren.

"You're the one rebuilding that village, aren't you?"

"I am."

She kept pace, glancing at him. "They say it was cursed.

"I've seen no curses. Just bad soil. Broken walls."

Kaela laughed. "You make it sound boring."

"It's work. Worth doing. That's enough."

She was quiet for a moment. "Magic's the same. It looks bright, but it's work too."

"Then we'll get along."

She looked at him, then smiled faintly. "You're strange."

"I've heard that before."

That evening, they camped under a low hill near the forest's edge. Kaela raised a quiet heat ward, and Solen passed around tea, the steam rising soft in the cold air.

As the others rested, Mirana approached Ren.

"You're not like the others who hire escorts," she said.

"How so?"

"You carry your own things. You walk. You don't complain."

Ren shrugged. "That's how it should be."

"It isn't," she said quietly.

He watched the fire. "What made you join the guild?"

"Same reason as most. No family. No land. Strength with nowhere to go."

He nodded. "And did you find purpose?"

"I found motion. Still looking for purpose."

Ren didn't answer, but her words stayed with him.

***

The next morning, they resumed the journey. Trees grew denser. Roads thinner.

Kaela rode with Solen, nose buried in a spellbook, asking questions aloud to no one in particular. Solen occasionally answered with patient. Caden scouted ahead, sword always at his side.

Ren walked beside Becca now, who pulled her cart with calm rhythm.

He spoke to her under his breath, as if she understood.

"So far, so good."

Becca flicked her ear but didn't look back.

As they neared the pass that would bring them within sight of the Wasteland, Kaela approached again.

"Do you know any magic?" she asked.

Ren shook his head. "No. Not yet."

She tilted her head. "You say that like you will."

"I learn fast," he said. "And I've always believed things can be learn, can be built. Even from nothing."

Kaela looked impressed. "You'd make a strange mage."

"Useful would be enough."

She laughed.

The wind carried her quiet laugh as they walked on.

***

By nightfall, they crested a ridge.

Below them: the Wasteland. Cold wind swept across the stone fields. And beyond it, on the edge of vision, faint smoke. Faint roofs. A village that will be reborn.

Kaela stepped beside him. "That's it?"

Ren nodded. "That's used to be someone place of birth."