Songs of Souls

006: Pack of Promises

Einntyr plopped down beside his grandmother's grave, sending a shower of leaves raining down from the ancient tree above. Tiny gloubugs swirled in the kindling light, their bodies shimmering like golden embers around him. "Well, Gran," his voice caught in his throat. "Guess who finally found a path?" He forced a grin, but the words felt like stones in his mouth.

"Fingers fumbled through his satchel. "Ah-ha!" A triumphant whoop echoed under the old tree as he withdrew a lagring flowing with blue energy. "Remember these, Gran? Your gift... made me channel energies!" His grin widened. "Well, I'm finally gonna put 'em to good use. Not just for Eard, but for everyone, see?"

He looked down and saw his worn Eardian trinket on the ground. It must have fallen from his satchel, he realized. He shoved the trinket under a loose clump of dirt, each push of his fingers harder than the last. His eyelids stung.

A shadow fell over the tombstone. He frowned, rubbing at his forehead. But with a shake of his head, he thrust the lagring towards the tombstone. Water swirled, a miniature storm washing away dirt and faded leaves, revealing the clean stone beneath.

Standing was hard. Each step towards the cottage felt like dragging an anchor. But his feet stayed rooted beneath the old tree. He swallowed, the air catching in his throat.

Turning for a brief look, the grave was lit by a shaft of light that pierced the branches. Gloubugs danced in the golden beam, their light swirling like Gran's cinnamon buns, the ones she used to bake every wintryshine season. The smell of woodsmoke from a nearby hearth, a scent that always reminded him of Gran's warm kitchen.

He reached for the grave, his fingers tracing the cracks. "Don't worry, Gran," he pressed his finger on the rough surface. "I won't let you down." Then let his hand fall. "Well, Gran, no point in waiting around, is there?" He forced a grin. "Destiny's singing my name, and it'd be rude to keep her waiting...or maybe just a coward's way of not saying goodbye."

The pack groaned with each step, a familiar tune of protest against his overpacking. He adjusted the straps, a grunt escaping as he pushed onward along the shoreline. Sand shifted beneath his boots, a steady rhythm urging him to pick up the pace.

Further down, flashes of color caught his eye. Villagers, their elemenium wands catching the kindling light, gathered stones from the tideline. As he watched them work, he felt a familiar pang. Like a bird grounded, watching its flock soar through the skies.

Each flick of their wands sent shimmering energies dancing in the air—energy he couldn't emit. He puffed out his chest, picturing himself wielding an elemenium weapon alongside his brothers, a surge of power answering his call. He tightened his grip on his pack straps, hoisting the weight higher onto his shoulders. "Focus, Einntyr, focus. Destiny awaits, and you're already fashionably late!"

A streak of red blazed against the white sand, sprinting along the same path. Red curls bounced, kicking up sand devils in their wake.

"Hey Fyrvren!" He threw his voice over the rhythmic waves, a smile splitting his face before he even knew if it was truly her.

The figure spun, a bright grin confirming his hope. "Einntyr! I thought you'd left already! Thank Solus!" Her laughter was like a wave rolling in, bright and refreshing. "What's with the mountain of a pack?"

He chuckled, adjusting the straps of the pack. "Ah, this? Just a few essentials for the journey." He patted the bulging sides. "You know, a hammock for those lazy wanlights, and maybe a spare catapult or two." He winked. "And of course two extra compasses. Can't be too prepared, right?"

"Right, right," Fyrvren said, rolling her eyes. She pulled out two lagrings, their green energy swirling. "Here, your lagrings. Supercharged with air energy, just like you asked."