Rembrien Chapter 8.

Chapter 8.

The Eastern Gate.

Shade took Sophrayni eastward. The fields were green, the trees full, and the air carried the scent of damp earth and distant woodsmoke. In one small village, people nodded as she passed.

Children played. Dogs barked. Life continued.

This was a sparsely populated area, so there were no wayside inns. She spent the night in a cottage offered by a kind widow, who spoke of rumours, poor harvests in the land to the east. Sophrayni listened, thanked her, and left before dawn.

The land changed slowly, grass giving way to dust, trees thinning into brittle silhouettes. The wind no longer carried scent; it carried grey grit, blown up from dried fields. She passed a broken cart, half-sunk in grey soil, and a scarecrow slumping in a field of hollow stalks. No birds. No insects. No people. Just stillness.

Shade moved cautiously, his ears flicking at sounds that weren't there. Then she saw him: a man, hunched and limping, dragging an empty sack. His clothes were torn, his boots caked with grey mud. When she offered water, he drank greedily.

“Came from the east,” he rasped. “From the valley. Nothing grows. The wells are dry, and the charmer curses everyone she meets. It was like something was eating the world, but not with teeth.” He looked at her with hollow eyes. “Don’t go east. There’s nothing there.”

Sophrayni watched him stagger away. “There’s something there,” she said softly. “And it’s waiting.”

She continued along a dusty road that served as a border. To her left, the land was still green, barley swaying, trees whispering. To her right, the world had died. People stood in the green fields, staring across the road at the dead land as if waiting for it to explain itself. They did not call out as Sophrayni passed. They simply watched as if her movement was the only thing left that could cross the line.

At the very edge of the desolation, she found the inn. It was a sagging, timber-framed building, but lanterns flickered in the windows. Inside, the air was warm, and at the far table sat King Syldan. He wore no crown, but his presence was unmistakable.

“Sophrayni,” he said, looking up.

“Your Majesty.”

“That’s the politeness out of the way,” said Syldan. “Now down to business. The town beyond the dead lands is failing. I was sent for by the Lord of the Manor. He claims something is pressing against the edge of the world. He wants answers, and protection.”

Sophrayni sat across from him. “I need to sit and think, deep and hard, before I answer. For now, the dead lands have stopped spreading. And in any case, I’m hungry, thirsty, and in need of a long, hot bath.”

Syldan smiled. “Food I can do. The bath may take a little longer. In the meantime, I’d like you to meet Lord Albat. Talking about it might help you work things out.”

Lord Albat was elderly and white-haired. When introduced to Sophrayni, he flinched. “A witch,” he squeaked, attempting to rise.

“There’s no cause for alarm,” Syldan assured him. “Sophrayni is a friend.”

Lord Albat relaxed slightly. “I’m sorry. It’s just that our charmer, Abigail Goodfellow, was a quiet one. Her magic was kind. Then she began speaking in languages no one understood. She drew patterns that scorched the walls. She said something evil was coming, that she could feel its teeth. Then, when the land died, she began to haunt the town, cursing anyone who dared speak to her.”

Sophrayni stared at the fire. “She wasn't just mad,” she said softly. “She was touched by this evil. Attacked.”

“By what?” Syldan asked.

Sophrayni sighed. “This is the stuff of legends, but it is true. Long ago, a brilliant, disfigured girl named Alphaz grew up in shadows, her hatred drawing wild magic to itself until it became a living force. At the same time, a war between kingdoms created a second entity made of ruin and despair. These two joined with one aim: to wipe out all life.”

She leaned forward. “Alphaz discovered the gate in the Dark Forest. She met a magician from the world beyond who was leading his own evil beings. They traded: each led their creations into the other’s world and sealed the gates behind them. The entities have spent centuries waiting for the Forest Gate to open. But now, they have come here, and they have gained power.”

A shaken Lord Albat gripped his walking stick. “But why now? What called them?”

“I’m not sure,” Sophrayni replied. “I need a long think.”

Later, Sophrayni lay in a deep stone bath. She closed her eyes, letting the heat sharpen her mind. Why had the entities shifted? For centuries they had clawed at the Forest Gate. Why move toward the Eastern Gate now?

The box. The jewel. The dragon’s heart.

She remembered what Blossom had said: “While the box was open, I felt like I could do more magic than ever before.”

Sophrayni climbed out of the bath, dried herself with a spell, dressed and returned to the dining room.

“I have the answer,” she announced. “Magic in this world is scarce, it’s like smoke from damp wood. But the Dragon’s Heart was leaking. Its magic spilled into the soil and the dreams of the living. It’s why Abigail went mad. It’s why Shade knew where to go. It’s why the evil beings stirred.”

She looked at the King. “The heart’s presence didn’t cause the evil, but it gave the entities power. Now that the box is sealed, the world is quieter. The entities have lost their strength and have been forced to stop. But they still exist. And they still hunger.”

“What are you going to do?” King Syldan asked.

“Nothing for tonight,” Sophrayni replied. “I need sleep. I’ll decide in the morning.”

  Syldan and Lord Albat had to be content with that.