The sun had barely risen when Noura noticed the absent glint in Elias's eyes. He was stirring a pot of warm berry compote, but his hands moved slower than usual, and his gaze was somewhere beyond the steam—somewhere far beyond the cozy kitchen of the Elderwood Inn.
Noura watched him for a moment, the way his fingers tightened around the ladle before loosening again, as if he were caught between two thoughts. The morning light filtered through the window, casting golden streaks across the wooden counter, but Elias didn't seem to notice.
"You've been staring into nothing for three days," Noura said, sliding him a piece of toast slathered with honey. "What's eating you, Elias?"
He blinked, as if waking from a dream, and offered her a weak smile. "Is it that obvious?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Painfully."
Elias set the ladle down with a quiet sigh and leaned against the counter. Outside, Elderwood was already alive with its usual morning bustle—traders unloading their wagons, farmers calling out prices for fresh produce, and the distant laughter of children chasing each other down the cobbled streets. But between them, there was a silence Noura had grown familiar with. A silence that begged for words.
After a long pause, Elias finally spoke. "I was supposed to leave for the northern mountains a month ago."
Noura's hand stilled where she had been wiping the counter. "The dungeon exploration?"
He nodded. "My old party is waiting in Iskar, the last city before the snow peaks. The plan was to regroup and head into the ruins." He hesitated, fingers drumming against the wood. "But I delayed. Told them I had duties in Elderwood."
Noura exhaled slowly. "And do you?"
"I do," he admitted. "But the truth is… I stayed because of you."
The words settled between them like dust after a storm. Noura's chest tightened, but she forced herself to meet his gaze. The warmth in his eyes was familiar, comforting, yet tinged with something else—something restless.
"Elias…" she began, but he continued before she could find the right words.
"I know I should go," he said, voice low. "It's what I trained for. I've dreamed of uncovering what lies beyond the Frostvale Pass for years. But now I wonder if I'm just chasing ghosts." His fingers brushed against hers, hesitant. "And every time I look at this village—at you—I think: maybe this is enough."
Noura swallowed hard. She had known this moment would come. Elias was never meant to stay forever. He was a wanderer, an adventurer—his heart belonged to the road as much as it did to Elderwood. To her.
Gently, she turned her hand to lace her fingers with his. "Elias, I think you're forgetting what it means to be a true adventurer."
He frowned. "What do you mean?"
She smiled, though it took effort. "An adventurer doesn't hide in comfort. They chase the unknown. You're not betraying Elderwood or me by following your path. You're honoring it."
Elias's grip tightened. "But what if something happens? What if I come back and… things are different?"
Noura squeezed his hand. "Then we'll face that 'different' together. But I'll still be here. So will this kitchen." She reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. "Go. Do what you were born to do. I'll be here when you return."
For a long moment, Elias didn't answer. Then, without warning, he pulled her into a tight embrace. His arms wrapped around her like an anchor, holding her close as if memorizing the feel of her. Noura buried her face in his shoulder, breathing in the scent of pine and hearth smoke that always clung to him.
When he finally pulled away, his eyes were bright with unspoken emotions. "I'll come back," he whispered.
Noura nodded, her throat too tight for words.
And with that, Elias turned, grabbing his worn travel pack from the hook by the door. He paused at the threshold, glancing back one last time before stepping out into the morning light.
The door swung shut behind him, leaving Noura standing in the quiet kitchen, the scent of berry compote still sweet in the air.
Somewhere beyond Elderwood, the road was calling. And Elias had answered.
***
The entire village of Elderwood had gathered at the gates. Elias stood in his travel gear, his sword at his back, packs tightened around his shoulders. Horses waited, stomping at the morning dew. His fellow adventurers were already outside, chatting and making last-minute checks.
But Elias's gaze was only on one person—Noura, standing with a wrapped bundle in her hands.
"For the road," she said, holding it out. "Food that travels well. You're going to need it."
Elias opened the bundle. Inside were small, tightly packed containers, wrapped in oilcloth. One was filled with deep brown slices of meat—glossy, rich, and aromatic even through the wrappings.
"Rendang," she said with a proud smile. "But dry. The kind that lasts."
He lifted an eyebrow. "Rendang?"
She nodded. "It's an Indonesian dish. It's beef slow-cooked in coconut milk and spices until it becomes so rich and dry that it can survive long trips."
"Sounds like a warrior's meal."
"And this," she handed another container, "is Kentang Mustofa. Crispy fried potatoes coated in sweet-spicy seasoning. Keeps well and reminds you not everything has to be serious."
Elias chuckled. "I'll treasure them."
***
The day before his departure, Noura spent hours preparing the rendang, determined to make it perfect.
She began by slicing beef into thick, even chunks—about two inches each, using the tender meat from a local mountain beast similar to cow.
In her cauldron, she poured thick coconut milk made from pressing grated kopora nuts, Elderwood's closest cousin to coconuts.
Then came the spice blend—pounded by hand using a stone mortar:
10 dried red chilies, soaked6 shallots4 cloves of garlicA thumb of gingerA thumb of galangal2 stalks of lemongrassA piece of turmeric root
To that, she added:
3 crushed candlefruit (replacing Indonesian kemiri)A small piece of cinnamon barkA few leaves of saloam, akin to kaffir limeA knot of ashwara root, bitter but fragrant—her isekai stand-in for bay leaves
She sautéed the spice paste until fragrant, then added the meat, coconut milk, and spices. The pot simmered slowly, for hours, until the liquid evaporated and the oil began to separate. The color darkened, from golden to brown to nearly black. Noura stirred constantly, coaxing the oils back into the meat, until each piece was coated in a thick, dark crust.
She tasted one bite. It was rich, intense, spicy, and comforting—exactly what she hoped Elias would carry with him.
***
Next came the Kentang Mustofa—shoestring-style fried potatoes.
She peeled and julienned the tubers into thin matchsticks, rinsed them in cold water, and soaked them with a bit of salt to remove starch. After drying them thoroughly, she deep-fried the potatoes in two batches to ensure ultimate crispiness.
In a separate pan, she prepared the seasoning:
Palm sugar melted into a syrupFinely chopped garlicCrushed red peppers for heatA dash of vinegar for tang
She tossed the fried potatoes into the thick syrup, coating them lightly without making them soggy. As it cooled, the sugar hardened, locking in the flavor and crunch.
She packed them in a wax-lined tin, knowing Elias would snack on them in the mountains and maybe remember her every time he smiled after a bite.
***
The moment arrived. Words failed them both.
Noura stood with her hands clenched by her side, her knuckles white from the effort of holding herself together. The morning sun cast long shadows across the path leading out of Elderwood, and the breeze carried the scent of pine and damp earth—a bittersweet reminder of all the seasons they had weathered together.
Elias adjusted his pack again, tightening the straps needlessly, as if delaying the inevitable. His boots scuffed against the dirt, kicking up little clouds of dust that settled almost reluctantly.
Noura swallowed hard. She had imagined this moment a hundred times, rehearsed what she might say, but now that it was here, her mind was blank. All she could do was watch him—the way his shoulders tensed beneath the weight of his journey, the way his jaw tightened before he finally turned to face her.
He exhaled sharply, as if forcing the words out. "When I come back, I'll tell you something I should've said earlier."
Noura tilted her head, lips curving into a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Then I'll be waiting to hear it."
Elias hesitated, then reached into his pocket and took her hand, pressing something small and cool into her palm. A pendant—a delicate compass, its surface worn smooth from years of travel. "For the kitchen," he said, his voice rough. "So you always know where true north is."
Noura's fingers closed around it, the metal warm from his touch. She wanted to say something—anything—but the words lodged in her throat. Instead, she nodded, her grip tightening as if she could imprint the feel of it into her skin.
Elias lingered for a heartbeat longer, his gaze tracing her face like he was memorizing it. Then, with a quiet sigh, he turned and mounted his horse in one fluid motion. The animal shifted beneath him, restless, sensing the journey ahead.
Noura didn't move. She stood rooted to the spot, watching as Elias glanced back one last time. His eyes were dark with unspoken promises, but he didn't say another word. With a gentle nudge, he urged the horse forward, and the forest seemed to part for him, swallowing him whole as he disappeared beyond the bend in the trail.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Noura stood there long after the last hoofbeat faded, the pendant still clutched in her hand. Her eyes burned, but she didn't cry. The ache in her chest was sharp, but beneath it, there was something else—something warm and stubborn, like embers refusing to die.
I'll keep the fire warm, she thought.
With a deep breath, she turned back toward Elderwood, the village already stirring with the rhythms of the day. The kitchen awaited her, its hearth cold but ready to be stoked back to life.
And as she stepped inside, the compass pendant resting against her chest, she knew exactly what she would cook next.
Something hearty. Something to welcome him home.
Because he would come home.
And when he did, she'd be waiting.
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