Sikakama returned to Valerion Square, where Milo was still waiting.
He was sitting on the edge of a wooden bench, and the moment he saw her, he jumped to his feet.
"You took your time."
Sikakama stopped beside him, still catching her breath.
"We have to go."
He studied her face for a moment, then nodded.
"All right. Come on."
Milo led her toward the Thamesis River, where an old wooden pier stretched over the dark water, several narrow boats resting along the bank. Milo stopped.
"There."
He pointed toward the boats.
"Take one of them. It'll get you across to the northern bank faster."
She looked toward the river. The current moved slowly beneath the fading light, while neither of them spoke for a few seconds. The noise of the river filled the silence between them as a boatman nearby prepared to leave, checking the rope tied around the pier.
Milo nodded toward him.
"That one is heading across."
Sikakama looked at the boat.
Then back at Milo.
She stepped toward the pier, then stopped.
"I suppose this is where we part."
Sikakama hesitated for a moment before adding quietly,
"And... thank you for everything."
Milo shrugged, trying to make it sound like nothing.
"Don't mention it."
The boatman loosened the rope, and Sikakama stepped aboard.
Milo watched her for a moment before calling after her.
"Sikakama."
He reached into his clothes, pulled out an apple, and tossed it toward her. She caught it effortlessly before it could fall. With a little smile, he said, "I didn't steal it this time."
She stood at the edge of the boat for a moment, looking back at Milo. He remained on the pier.
Neither of them waved.
There was no need.
The boatman dipped his oar into the calm waters of the Thamesis, and the boat glided slowly into the current, its wooden hull cutting through the gentle ripples.
Sikakama looked back once. Milo was still standing on the shore, his figure growing smaller with every stroke of the oar.
Milo remained there until the boat disappeared into the distance. Only then did he turn and make his way back toward the city.
He watched his own footsteps as he walked along the pavement. The sunset had painted the street in a soft orange glow, and each step seemed to sink into the warmth beneath his feet.
Before long, he reached Elendil Street, the quiet street where Uncle Ben's shop stood. Few people ever passed through it.
Milo stepped inside.
"Uncle Ben?"
He moved past the shelves, glancing toward the back of the shop.
Then he turned around the shelves—
and froze.
Uncle Ben lay motionless on the floor, a pool of dark red liquid spreading beneath him.
Milo's breath caught in his throat.
For a moment, he could not move. Then his eyes fixed on the liquid slowly spreading across the floor.
It was coming from Uncle Ben.
Blood.
Fear seized him. He stumbled backward and rushed out of the shop, tears filling his eyes as he ran blindly into the street.
----
Sikakama reached the Chase, the dense forest of Everlochan—a vast region known as the Land of Everlasting Lakes and Highlands. Tall trees stretched deep into the distance, their interwoven branches forming a vast canopy overhead, turning the forest entrance into a natural archway of shadow.
Sikakama continued along the narrow path, making her way through the dense oak trees. She kept the landmarks Uncle Ben had marked on the map firmly in mind, following them without losing her way: a turn beside a split rock, a massive oak with a twisted trunk, and finally, a narrow path almost swallowed by the grass.
She raised her eyes.
A black crow was perched atop one of the trees.
It stared at her for a moment before releasing a short caw.
Sikakama remained still, watching it in silence. A few moments later, the crow took flight, and she continued on.
As darkness settled over the forest, the familiar paths became harder to distinguish. The trees seemed wilder, their branches more tangled, until a towering hill finally emerged beyond them.
Sikakama raised her head, and a sudden surge of excitement stirred in her heart.
After making her way through the forest, Sikakama suddenly found herself face-to-face with Willomere Heights.
From where she stood below, the hill looked less like a natural rise and more like a colossal stone fortress shaped by nature itself. Its broad, flattened summit was wrapped in a dense belt of mist, rising from the countless lakes of Everlochan and forever curling around the heights.
There, at the top, was the place marked on the map.
She climbed until she reached the summit.
Then she stopped.
There was nothing there.
It was nothing more than an ordinary hill, with only barren, rocky ground and short grass swaying beneath the wind.
Slowly, Sikakama lowered the map.
Could this really be the place Uncle Ben had meant—the place where he had found nothing?
He had been completely right.
There was nothing here.
A faint disappointment washed over her, dulling the excitement that had filled her only moments before. She stared at the empty landscape for several seconds, then checked the map once more, almost unable to believe that this was where her journey had ended.
At last, she turned, preparing to leave.
A distant caw echoed behind her.
Sikakama stopped and turned toward the sound, but there was no crow in sight. She raised her eyes toward the sky, searching among the darkness and drifting mist.
Nothing.
She was certain she had heard it.
As she continued scanning the sky, however, she noticed a bat flying in the distance above her. Her eyes followed it as it moved in a straight line across the sky.
Then, without warning, it veered sharply to one side. There was nothing in its path. Sikakama watched it for several seconds, her expression tightening. That wasn't an ordinary movement.
She closed her eyes, letting go of sight and trusting her hearing to guide her.
The wind, the rustling grass, the distant shifting of the trees. She waited.
And there it was again: the caw of a crow. This time, it sounded closer.
There was still no crow, but the sound had been real. She took a cautious step forward and stretched out her hand into the empty air. Nothing touched her. Another step. Her hand remained extended. A third. She stopped. Only one more step separated her from the edge of the hill.
She reached farther.
Her palm met something cold.
There was nothing visible before her, yet beneath her hand was a surface—cold, smooth, and strangely flexible.
Transparent ripples spread from her fingers, as though she had touched a pool of water suspended in the air. The surface shimmered with a faint silver clarity, resembling a thin membrane of liquid or a sheet of flexible glass hanging weightlessly before her.
It wasn't a barrier she could see.
It was something she could only feel.
Sikakama stared at the empty space before her.
She hesitated for barely two seconds.
Then she made her decision.
Stepping forward, she expected her foot to sink into empty air.
Instead, it met something solid.
Transparent.
Invisible.
At the same moment, she pressed her palm firmly against the unseen surface.
Her hand passed through it.
She pushed forward, allowing her entire body to follow. The membrane resisted her for a brief moment before yielding, flowing around her like water.
She crossed through.
As the last strand of her hair passed beyond the barrier and her final foot followed, the unseen surface vanished.
So did the wind.
The mist.
Even the hills behind her.
For a moment, it felt as though she had stepped out of the world she knew and into another one entirely.
Sikakama slowly raised her head.
She was no longer standing upon an empty hill.
A broad stone terrace stretched before her, enclosed by a circular wall that had crumbled in several places. Above it, a ruined domed roof had partially collapsed, leaving the night sky exposed through the broken stone.
Vines had climbed over the ancient masonry, while moss covered the edges of the terrace. The ruins lay buried beneath a profound silence.
In front of her stood a massive statue of a woman carved from stone.
She stood in a noble posture, clad in ancient armor, a sword held firmly in one hand. Vines had spread across the stone armor, while rain had left dark streaks down her cheeks, resembling tears that had long since dried.
Sikakama lifted her gaze to the statue.
Above it, the black crow descended.
With a single beat of its wings, it settled confidently upon the stone woman's head and released a long, mournful caw.
The sound echoed between the ruined columns, returning as a hollow cry that seemed to fill the entire terrace.
Under the moonlight, something caught Sikakama's attention near the base of the statue.
A sword.
Half-buried beneath the stone and hidden from ordinary sight, its blade caught the moonlight and shimmered with a faint silver glow.
Sikakama stared at it. For a moment, she forgot everything else. Then the crow cried out above her. She turned—and something sharp pierced her back.
A sudden flash of pain.
Black.
Something cold and dark, like a shadow given the shape of a blade.
Her body froze. The world around her seemed to disappear.
And she fell.