Earlier today, during one of our rests beside the caravan route, Old Shard showed me an artifact unlike anything I have ever seen before.
Its name was Captura.
At first glance it resembled nothing more than an old rectangular frame made from dark wood.
Ancient wood.
The kind that no longer feels entirely dead.
Its surface was covered in carvings of leaves, roots, and closed eyes.
The eyes disturbed me slightly.
Not because they looked threatening.
Because they looked patient.
As though they had already watched generations pass by.
Old Shard handled the artifact carefully.
Not with fear.
With nostalgia.
The same way people open old letters they already know by heart.
Inside the frame was no glass.
Only still water.
Perfectly still.
Too still.
Then Old Shard touched the frame.
Soft blue-green runes slowly illuminated themselves along the edges.
The water rippled.
And suddenly—
the artifact came alive.
The image moved.
Not like illusion magic.
Not like projected memory.
It felt closer to witnessing a living fragment of time itself.
I leaned forward immediately.
Beside me, Ryn did the same.
Even Spathian stopped pretending not to care.
The first thing I saw was a young woman standing inside what looked like an ancient forest.
Tall.
Beautiful.
Long pale golden hair.
Simple full plate armor.
And a scar splitting across her left eye.
Grace.
For the first time—
I saw Grace alive.
Not as memory.
Not as story.
Alive.
She looked confused.
She tapped the surface of Captura from inside the memory itself.
Then asked:
“Kasper… what is this?”
A voice answered from somewhere behind her.
“Yes, human?”
Grace sighed immediately.
“It’s Grace.”
A pause.
“Human is race.”
Then the voice answered again:
“Human Grace.”
Something small suddenly walked into view.
At first I genuinely thought it was a child.
A very strange child.
Tiny body.
Messy leaf-colored hair.
Large old glasses.
Purple ink stains across the fingers and nose.
Bare feet covered in dirt and moss.
And attached to its back—
not a backpack.
A gigantic ancient book.
Larger than its own body.
The thing was absurd.
Plants and loose pages protruded from it as though the book itself was alive and still growing.
The small creature approached Captura curiously.
Very closely.
Too closely.
Then it smiled.
Wide.
Bright.
And immediately started making bizarre faces directly into the frame.
Stretching cheeks.
Crossing eyes.
Tilting its head upside down.
Grace burst into laughter.
Real laughter.
Not polite.
Not restrained.
Warm.
Old Shard smiled quietly beside me while watching that moment.
Not a happy smile exactly.
More like someone briefly visiting a place that no longer exists.
Then suddenly another voice shouted loudly from somewhere outside the frame.
“What are you two doing?!”
Grace and the small creature turned simultaneously.
And someone came running toward them.
A younger Caravan Master.
Much younger.
And strangely—
more alive somehow.
Less controlled.
Less tired.
He looked like the kind of man who still believed exhaustion was temporary.
Then the image stopped.
Just like that.
The water inside Captura became still again.
Silence followed.
For a moment nobody spoke.
Then I pointed toward the small creature.
“That was Kasper?”
Old Shard nodded once.
Then something strange happened.
Old Shard raised two fingers and pressed them lightly against his chest.
A warding gesture.
A gesture against misfortune.
I recognized it immediately.
But what surprised me more was what happened afterward.
Master Grim did the same.
Then Stonefist.
Even Ironbeard.
Not casually.
Not jokingly.
Their expressions had changed.
Grace made them nostalgic.
Kasper made them uncomfortable.
Not fear exactly.
Something older.
Something unresolved.
I looked toward Ryn.
Even she noticed it.
The atmosphere around the campfire had shifted completely.
Which only made me more curious.
Naturally, I asked Old Shard about Kasper immediately.
Old Shard avoided my eyes.
Then sighed.
“We’ll talk about Kasper later.”
The way he said later did not sound reassuring.
It sounded like postponement.
Like someone delaying the reopening of an old wound.
Then Old Shard stood and announced we should eat first.
Nobody argued.
Which somehow made the entire situation feel even stranger.
I do not fully understand why.
But I think Kasper may have been very important.
Not simply to the old generation.
To something larger than that.
And somehow—
that tiny strange creature carrying a giant book may be the first thing in weeks that genuinely unsettled me more than the White Fox Mask.
Which is honestly an impressive achievement.
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