The wind was louder now.
No longer whispering.
It howled.
Through broken trees, through hollow shrines, through the very bones of the valley, it cried the sound of approaching hooves.
Frido stood with the stone glowing in his palm—steady, pulsing like a heartbeat.
"They know where I am," he said softly.
Teren moved to higher ground. "Not just you. The stone too."
Mirea was quiet.
But her fingers tightened around her flute.
---
The Riders in Red
They came at dawn.
Ten riders, dressed in long red cloaks stained dark by weather and war. Their armor bore the symbol of the Sovereign Seal—a broken chain linked across a sun.
They rode in silence.
No war cry.
No taunt.
Just the rhythm of hooves like a drumbeat of judgment.
Frido and the others stood waiting by the ruins.
Teren raised his sword.
Frido didn't move.
And Mirea—she watched them not with fear, but with curiosity.
> "They're not here to fight," she whispered. "They're here to ask."
---
The Question of Power
The leader dismounted.
A woman, tall and pale, with eyes like ash and voice like thunder beneath velvet.
"You carry it," she said, looking at Frido.
"I do," he replied.
"Then you are chosen. Not by us. Not by gods. But by silence."
She stepped forward, the others still behind her.
"You have two choices: surrender it, or carry its consequence."
Frido looked at her calmly. "And what is the consequence?"
She touched the hilt of her blade.
"Memory," she said. "You'll be remembered. Forever. And nothing will ever be yours again—not even your name."
---
Teren's Blade
Teren stepped between them.
"Back off. He's not for sale. Not for sacrifice."
The woman smiled, slow and patient.
"You misunderstand. He's already been sold. Long before he was born. We're just here to see if he honors the price."
She turned her gaze to Frido.
> "Well? Will you keep walking?"
Frido felt Mirea's hand brush his.
A whisper passed through him.
Not hers. The stone's.
> If you give me up, the war continues. If you carry me, you vanish.
He closed his eyes.
And chose.
---
The Refusal
"No," Frido said.
The woman blinked. "No?"
"I won't give you the stone."
She laughed—but it was bitter. Not mocking. More like… pity.
"You think you've chosen freedom," she said. "But you've chosen the longer pain."
Teren tightened his grip on his sword.
Mirea stepped beside Frido.
"You've made your choice," the woman said. "Then we will follow you. And when the silence breaks, you will not find rest."
She turned.
"Let him walk."
The riders vanished into the fog.
But not before one looked back.
And whispered, "Remember your name."
---
The Weight of Being Known
Later, around the fire, Frido said nothing.
He sat still.
Mirea stared at him.
"You knew they were serious," she said. "You knew what it meant."
He nodded.
"And still…?"
Frido looked into the flames.
"I'd rather carry silence than be ruled by someone else's voice."
Teren tossed a log into the fire. "That woman—she was one of the old order. Silence-seekers from the first war. I thought they all died."
"Maybe they did," Mirea whispered. "Maybe she was just a memory made real again."
---
The Letter She Almost Wrote
That night, Mirea took out the parchment again.
Still blank.
Still waiting.
She traced the outline of letters she hadn't written.
> "I would tell you that your silence is the most beautiful noise I've ever known."
> "I would tell you that I'm afraid. Not of the war. But of you never knowing."
> "And if you die… then I will carry your name."
She folded it again.
Still blank.
Still waiting.
---
Visions in the Firelight
Frido slept.
And dreamed of a tower.
At the top: a single bell, cracked, rusted, covered in ivy.
He climbed.
Step by step.
At the top, he found a girl—barefoot, long hair, weeping.
He didn't recognize her.
But she said, "You promised to come back."
And when he opened his eyes, he whispered one word:
> "Mirea."
---
She Heard Him
Across the fire, Mirea woke up.
She looked at him.
Eyes shut.
Breathing shallow.
And yet, he had said her name.
Not in a dream.
Not in a whisper.
But in truth.
She stared at him for a long time.
Then she cried.
Softly.
Without sound.
Because finally—finally—she had been seen.
Even if only for a moment.
---
End of Chapter 31