Today, we finally departed for Yggdra.
According to Caravan Master, the main caravan group that left from The Sleeping Goat Inn had already arrived several days earlier.
We would reunite with them beyond the final approach.
The place was called The Path of Veils.
No wagons were permitted there.
No horses.
No men.
Everything stopped before the entrance.
Beyond that point, only women were allowed to continue toward Yggdra itself.
The moment I first saw the path, I understood immediately why people spoke about it differently.
Not with excitement.
Not with fear.
With caution.
The entrance resembled a corridor built between worlds.
Tall faded-red gates stretched endlessly forward into white fog, each larger than the last.
The deeper the path disappeared into mist, the more sacred everything began to feel.
Ancient silver-barked trees curved overhead, their branches intertwining like protective hands above the road.
Small white petals drifted slowly through the air, gathering softly across worn white stones beneath our feet.
Everything was quiet.
Not silent.
Muted.
Even footsteps sounded restrained there.
The deeper I looked into the fog, the more I felt as though the path itself was watching us approach.
Before entering, we regrouped briefly beside the final wagon checkpoint.
There were six of us continuing forward.
Ryn.
Myself.
And four other women accompanying the negotiation team responsible for transporting and selling the Voidscale materials.
As discussed long ago in Verdant Veil, I would act as Ryn’s primary assistant during the negotiations.
For reasons I still do not fully understand, this fact now felt significantly more serious than it had during the hot spring conversation months ago.
Everyone looked tense.
Especially Ryn.
That alone unsettled me deeply.
Ryn rarely appeared uncertain.
And seeing all of them standing quietly before the gates—
waiting—
made the atmosphere feel heavier with every passing second.
Then, unfortunately—
I had an idea.
To this moment, I still cannot explain why impulsive decisions always arrive with such confidence.
Before logic could stop me, I walked toward one of the supply crates near the wagons.
Climbed on top of it.
Stood as tall as possible.
Then—
very importantly—
I reached into my bag and pulled out the spoon Spathian once gave me.
The spoon emitted a faint self-made glow from tiny arcane mechanisms hidden inside it.
Under the fog and pale light of The Path of Veils, it looked significantly more legendary than any spoon had the right to look.
I raised it into the air like a sacred sword from an ancient saga.
Several crew members immediately looked deeply concerned.
Then I began speaking.
“I’d rather fight beside you than any army of thousands.”
My voice echoed softly against the fog.
“Let no man forget how menacing we are.”
I pointed dramatically toward the distant silhouette of Yggdra hidden somewhere beyond the gates.
Then looked directly into their eyes.
“We are lions!”
At that exact moment, I genuinely believed I looked incredibly cool.
Then I raised the glowing spoon higher.
“Do you know what’s there?”
“Waiting beyond that path?”
I spread my arms dramatically toward the mist.
“IMMORTALITY!”
“TAKE IT!”
“IT’S YOURS!”
The silence afterward was catastrophic.
For several seconds, nobody reacted.
Nobody moved.
My soul nearly left my body.
Then suddenly—
the male caravan crew exploded into applause.
Several of them straightened immediately.
Cheering.
Laughing.
One even looked emotionally moved for reasons I still cannot explain.
To my absolute horror, Caravan Master himself was among them.
Standing with the others.
Looking unusually energized.
Meanwhile—
the women looked deeply confused.
Two of them had already begun whispering to each other.
Another appeared physically unable to process what she had just witnessed.
Slowly—
very slowly—
my face began heating up.
Then my ears.
Then possibly my entire existence.
I climbed down from the crate immediately.
Very quickly.
Preferably before death arrived.
Not long afterward, the women finally began laughing softly.
The tension around us loosened all at once.
Ryn approached me while still trying unsuccessfully not to smile.
“What exactly was that?” she asked.
I avoided eye contact completely.
“Impulse,” I admitted quietly.
Then after several seconds, I confessed the truth.
I once read those lines inside an old heroic saga about soldiers marching toward war.
And ever since then, I had secretly wanted to say them dramatically at least once in my life.
I simply never found the opportunity before today.
At that point, Ryn finally laughed openly.
A real laugh.
Warm.
Tired.
Affectionate.
Then she reached over and gently patted my head.
“Good job,” she said softly.
And strangely enough—
the others no longer seemed as tense afterward.
Still nervous.
But lighter somehow.
More connected.
So from there—
beneath drifting petals and endless gates disappearing into white mist—
our first steps toward the legendary city of Yggdra finally began.
And while walking beneath those towering red gates, I slowly realized something unsettling.
The Path of Veils did not feel like a road leading somewhere.
It felt like permission being granted very slowly.
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