Hours after leaving the road, Jack and Kleo paused beside a narrow stream to rest and share a small meal. The forest had grown dense around them, but the towering trees and thick underbrush had given way to a quiet glade by a stream''s edge.


    He knew her name was Kleo, though he rarely used it. He had accidentally called her Chloe, and the fear of doing it a second time made him self-conscious, afraid he might embarrass himself again. Instead, he resorted to a simple “Hey” when he needed her attention. Kleo didn’t seem to mind.


    She was tall, almost level with him, and possessed a natural, unpolished beauty and an effortless grace. Her brown hair fell across her face, hiding intense blue eyes that seemed to hold secrets she had no intention of sharing.


    He had caught her watching him with a peculiar, focused stare more than once. The intensity of her gaze unsettled him as though she were assessing him, studying him. To what end, he could not guess.


    They were strangers traveling a common path together; she was his guide. They didn’t talk much, spending their time lost in private thoughts.


    ack stepped away to relieve himself, leaving her by the stream, filling a water bag. The morning air, cool at dawn, had begun to warm as the sun rose higher.


    Jack returned to see her securing the water bag with a practiced hand. The creeping heat would make their travels more difficult, and even in the cool of the morning, he was already sweating through his clothes.


    Their destination was the village of Astiria—a place he had only ever heard of in whispers.


    To him, Astiria was more myth than reality. In the dim corners of Cabal’s taverns, old men tilted with too much drink would speak of it in strange, almost reverent tones. Their tales of Astiria were shadowed with mystery, tinged with awe and foreboding.


    He put little faith in the tales. People relished such stories, crafting the unknown into something tantalizing and strange. Jack was no exception; he always listened closely and was captivated by the legends.


    “Hey,” he ventured, choosing his words carefully. “Have you been to Astiria before? You seem to know the way, so I thought…” He trailed off, feeling self-conscious. Women often made him nervous, and Kleo had a presence that kept him even more on edge.


    “Yes,” she replied, lifting the water bag from the stream and securing it over her shoulder.


    He waited for her to elaborate, but she offered nothing more.


    “What’s it like?” he pressed, trying to keep his curiosity light.


    She paused as though searching for the right words. “Different,” she said at last.


    He waited again, hoping she might continue, but her silence was absolute.


    “We go this way. We must camp before dark because we won’t reach Astiria by nightfall.”


    <hr>


    As they traveled, the day''s warmth grew more oppressive, beads of sweat prickling Jack’s brow.


    His thoughts drifted to the strange tattoo he’d glimpsed on Kleo’s upper arm when she’d removed her overshirt. His curiosity gnawed at him. In Cabal, tattoos were more than decoration; they marked tribal affiliations, family ties, and sometimes even trades. They were symbols of identity and belonging. Jack had no tattoos, no family marks, or tribal insignias.


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    Born to poverty, with no family or steady shelter, he had always lived on the edges, scraping by in Cabal’s dark alleys and crowded marketplaces.


    His closest companions had been the rats nested in the sewers beneath the city. They lived off the scraps they managed to scavenge. They would venture out at night, scouring the deserted streets for bread crusts, bruised vegetables, and discarded meat. Like him, they fought to survive, bound by the brutal laws of the street.


    Human friends had been rare but precious. Most were street kids like himself. Outcasts who, by the simple fate of birth, were cut off from Cabal’s more fortunate citizens. Together, they had shared hardships and dreams, finding solace in each other’s company. Jack liked to think they were his tribe, his chosen family. They had each other’s backs, even if the world looked down on them as nobodies.


    One day, he would convince his friends to mark themselves with a tattoo. A symbol of their brotherhood. A mark to show they belonged to something greater than themselves.


    He was grateful for a moment of shade and rest when they stopped for a brief lunch. Following Kleo’s example, Jack splashed his face in the cool stream. He washed his hands and neck, the water bringing a welcome reprieve from the day’s heat.


    As they walked, he kept their spirits up with stories of his life in Cabal. He painted colorful images of the city’s chaotic streets and his friends’ antics. He recast his hardships as humorous adventures, reframing close calls and scrapes with danger as tales of mischief. Kleo remained silent but attentive, her occasional laughter encouraging him to continue.


    Hours later, they descended into a valley, the path sloping toward a vast clearing. The countryside was breathtaking, its rugged beauty a far cry from Cabal''s narrow streets and fetid air. It was the air that struck Jack hardest—it was clean and crisp, free from the grime and desperation that clung to Cabal’s streets.


    The freshness filled his lungs, washing over him in waves. He felt a strange, bittersweet pang. At twenty-four, Jack had never known such air existed—air untouched by suffering.


    Kleo paused, pointing toward the valley’s eastern edge. “There, in that clearing-”


    Jack followed her gaze, spotting a small, isolated patch of land surrounded by a marsh. It was an island of life amid gray, stagnant water, its edges dotted with reeds and the remnants of dead trees. The clearing held a semi-circle of large stones arranged around a clear pool, each mirrored in the water, creating an illusion of a perfect circle.


    “When the nights are cold, and the moon is high, skeletons gather there to dance,” she said, her voice soft. “Perhaps to relieve something from their lives—something sacred or ordinary. Whatever the reason, it must be meaningful to them.”


    Jack raised an eyebrow. “Skeletons?”


    She nodded. “Skeletons.”


    “Have you seen them dance?”


    “No,” she replied with a hint of a smile. “But I will someday… when I’m older.”


    Jack suppressed a shiver, unnerved by her words. “I’d like to see something like that. Skeletons dancing under the moonlight.”


    She looked at him, thinking. “This world holds many wonders—things that force you to look beyond what you know and into the unknown.”


    “That’s why I left Cabal,” Jack admitted. “I want to see things for myself. To understand the things I would never know if I stayed.”


    Kleo’s gaze sharpened. “Is that why you travel to Astiria?”


    “Yes. Everything I’ve heard about it is shrouded in mystery. I wasn’t even sure it existed until I met you. I thought it might be a tale spun by drunk old men in taverns.”


    She studied him as if weighing his words but offered no response. After a moment, she changed the subject.


    “There’ll be a storm tonight. We’ll need shelter. There’s an abandoned temple west of here.”


    Jack perked up. A hidden temple in the forest sounded interesting—not that he was bored, but seeing anything that wasn''t the dreary streets of Cabal sounded good.


    She gestured toward a distant rise. “It’s off our path, but it’ll give us better protection than sleeping out in the open.”


    Jack squinted at the clear blue sky, doubting her prediction, but shrugged. “A temple sounds intriguing. Should we head there now or rest here a bit longer?”


    “We’ll rest once we reach it,” she replied. “It’s about two hours away.”


    They set off, veering toward the tall, dry grass that stretched away from them. Jack remarked on the parched land, joking that the rain would be a welcome blessing. She nodded, her expression unreadable.


    He huffed in frustration. He couldn’t get her to open up. He decided to keep the conversation sparse. Maybe the silence would feel awkward, encouraging her to say something, ask a question—anything.


    Instead, they walked in the hot sun until the outlines of the temple began to rise from the horizon.