Michrinor: The Fates of The Heirs

Chapter 7 - The Momo's

The sun was just beginning to rise as the band of Momos emerged from the shadowed depths of the Beli Forest. The early morning light spread across the world in a golden glow, casting long, wavering beams of light upon the forest floor. Meepat, ever brimming with energy, bounded ahead of the group, his fluffy ears bouncing with each eager step. His large blue eyes sparkled with curiosity as he sniffed the crisp air, catching the scent of the Beli Forest River just beyond the trees.

"We should reach the river soon," Boondell stated, his deep voice cutting through the quiet of dawn. "Once we've crossed, we head east toward the ruins."

For days, the Momos had prepared for this journey. The Ruins of Stayepmond, long shrouded in whispers and tales within their tribe, held both mystery and promise. This city, once a thriving hub for trade and a refuge for travelers, had fallen into decay long ago. Yet, the reasons for its downfall were veiled in darkness. None knew who had once ruled this place, nor why it had been forsaken and left unclaimed. Such questions only added to the eerie allure, making it a place both of hidden treasure and lurking danger.

The journey from the Beli Forest would be long, but the Momos were no strangers to distant travels. They had ventured far and wide, seeking sustenance, shelter, and knowledge, often scavenging through the remnants of forgotten places. Yet the Ruins of Stayepmond were different. The tales surrounding them were dark, filled with ominous murmurs of strange sounds, ghostly lights, and a curse that clung to the bones of the once-great city.

"Think we'll find aught of value?" Meepat asked, his voice tinged with anticipation as he hopped along the path.

"There is always something to be found," Armol replied, adjusting the strap of his satchel. "The question lies in whether it's worth the peril."

"Peril?" Lundas laughed lightly. "The only danger here is that we might trip over some ancient stones. Stayepmond is but another ruin. We've faced far worse."

"Do not be so quick to jest," Nuaro cautioned, his tone grave. "The ruins lie near Kemnton, and rumors speak of strange doings in these parts. We must keep our wits about us."

The group pressed on, crossing the Beli Forest River as the sun climbed higher in the sky. The water sparkled like jewels in the light, reflecting the greens and browns of the surrounding forest. The crossing was smooth, and soon they were heading east, skirting the edge of Kemnton. The village, once vibrant and full of life, had become a shadow of its former self after the fall of Stayepmond. Now, only a few hardy souls remained, clinging to the past as the world moved on.

By midday, the Momos had journeyed far enough to glimpse the ruins in the distance. The jagged remnants of the castle stood stark against the horizon, a testament to the city's former grandeur. The land surrounding the ruins was barren, the once-fertile fields now choked with thorny brambles and twisted trees. A chill lingered in the air, and the wind whispered secrets as it passed through the cracked stone walls.

"We're nearly there," Boondell said, his eyes fixed on the ruins ahead. "Keep your senses sharp. Stayepmond is known to play tricks on the mind."

As they drew closer, a hush fell over the group, each lost in thought. The stories they had heard as children resurfaced—tales of a city once teeming with life and wealth, now reduced to crumbling stone and faded memories. The southern stronghold had been the last bastion of its people, yet none knew their fate. The mystery of Stayepmond was as impenetrable as the ruins themselves.

They reached the outskirts just as the sun began its descent, casting long shadows over the ruins. The castle, once a symbol of strength and prosperity, now lay in ruin—its towers crumbled, its walls broken. Vines snaked around the stone, and trees had sprung up through the very heart of the old stronghold, nature reclaiming what man had abandoned.