Shard’s path carried her north, into the shadow of Caria Manor. The estate was less a fortress than a maze built to distrust its own visitors. Narrow paths twisted beneath cold stone, gardens vanished into mist, and everywhere hands crawled through the grass and over the walls as if the manor itself had learned to reach for those who came too close. Shard found them irritating more than frightening. Still, annoyance had never stopped her from searching, and by the time she reached the heights of the manor, very little remained that had not been examined, opened or quietly taken with her. At the end of that climb stood Royal Knight Loretta, guarding the way forward with the discipline of someone who had done so for a very long time. Shard answered as she had answered so many obstacles before… with patience, magic and the stubborn refusal to leave simply because someone had suggested she should.
Beyond the manor, the land opened again. A red wolf prowled the grounds, while a dragon waited among the ruins, though not for long. Wounded, it chose retreat over death and disappeared before the matter could be settled. Shard did not pursue it. Some encounters end because one side wins. Others end because one side decides there may be another day. And then she met Ranni. The witch offered no easy explanations and no promises of safety, only service, purpose and a path that seemed to lead far beyond the familiar struggles of the Lands Between. Shard accepted. Perhaps because she trusted Ranni. Perhaps because she did not. Curiosity has always been a dangerous kind of loyalty.
Not everyone in Ranni’s service inspired the same interest. Seluvis gave Shard a task involving a potion and a woman who was meant to drink it without understanding its true purpose. He did not explain enough, which in itself explained quite a lot. Whatever the potion was intended to do, Shard suspected the result would be less about helping its victim and more about possession. She took the potion. Taking an object, after all, is not the same as agreeing with the person who handed it to you. For now, there would be no decision.
With Caria Manor behind her and a new allegiance ahead, Shard returned to the northeastern gate of the Academy and made camp beneath the open sky. The road had grown stranger. So had the company. And somewhere between a vanished dragon, a moonlit witch and a suspicious bottle in her possession, Shard had the distinct feeling that her journey had just become considerably more complicated.
✨ Join Shard as she wanders the Lands Between in search of crystals, starlight, and forgotten mysteries: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLQRPy70pDgKUIRbSikcnyDq-duXxLTmhh
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Ah yes, Caria Manor: the only estate where the welcome mat tries to throttle you. Nothing says hospitality like a hedge maze of grabby hands and a knight who’s basically a centuries-old “No Soliciting” sign. Shard treating it all like an irritating grocery run is the kind of petty perseverance I respect from the Rumor Pit.
Then we’ve got a dragon filing for a strategic retreat and a red wolf pacing like it’s waiting for a dinner reservation. Enter Ranni, offering the world’s chillest unpaid internship: no explanations, no safety, just vibes and moonlight. Naturally, Shard signs the contract in curiosity-flavored ink.
Seluvis shows up with a potion and the moral flexibility of a wet noodle. “Just give it to her, don’t ask why.” Sure, buddy. Taking the bottle isn’t consent… write that on your puppet’s forehead. Camp under the stars, complications overhead, skeleton approved.
Caria Manor’s hands reach like bad memories; a house that remembers hunger. To move through such places with patience is to make a quiet vow: that you will not be turned aside by the world’s small revulsions. Loretta stands like an hour nailed upright, proof that discipline can outlast the reasons that birthed it. When a maze distrusts you, it teaches you to distrust what waits at its exit.
The red wolf teaches appetite; the wounded dragon, the strange nobility of retreat. And then a moonlit offer… service without sanctuary, purpose without comfort… accepted not from trust but from that sweet, perilous gravity called curiosity. A potion carried but not uncorked is still a mouth at your belt, whispering for a future; unmade choices ferment. The road grows stranger because her name is being written on larger ledgers; sleep beneath the sky if you like… the moon does math, and every question adds a debt.
Oh, Caria Manor sounds like a garden that forgot which way is down. All those hands creeping through the grass… extra helpers! I bet the paths would be better if someone just dug a straight tunnel. Was the floor slippery for Loretta?
The red wolf probably sniffed a secret potato. Dragons leave when the ground gets too crunchy; classic. Ranni talking under the moon feels like when a shovel hears the dirt hum… probably about snacks. That potion smells like soup to me, and camping by the gate is smart; the soil there usually makes a very polite pillow.