The road narrows, and so does the silence. As the company nears Arlinstead, Malak Crosswell speaks what has long remained buried—a covenant once forged, now fractured. His tale is not a lesson, but a reckoning. Galot listens. Lori watches. Rho stirs in his chains. And the town ahead waits, remembering more than it should.
"'There was once a king,' Malak continued, 'the last to wear a crown.'"
"The wind shifted, carrying a distant sound—slow, rhythmic, deliberate. A bell tolled, its echo rolling across the hills like a summons. Lori tilted her head, her sketchbook forgotten. 'A church?'
Malak's brow furrowed, a rare crack in his calm. 'Not in my time. Arlinstead never had one.'"
Coming soon: Reflections, background, and thoughts from the trail.
Navigation Links
Part 6 – Chapter 6 (You are here)
Or: