Finally, a falcon came. It delivered two things: One, a statement by the Mayor of Al De Baran, stating that the City will close all relations with the outside world; Two, a piece of parchment, containing a recipe for a substance called saltpeter. The conference room became alive again, apparently given hope yet still confused with this unknown material. Just then, a crashing sound. I ran towards the window, wishing it wasn't what I think it is.

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Chapter Three. So unlucky we are.
one: beyond the river

Snow, rocks, and soil. These encompassed everything their eyes saw. Not a single dried up tree or brush existed in the vast tundra where Edward and Lyla treaded. The sky was back to its normal stoic state, feathery soft white clouds dotting the heavy grey-black ones.

Edward continued on foot, his slow gentle strides making pockets at the thin powder snow. The enthusiastic feeling he had at the start of their pilgrimage slowly fading away, like a recent memory unable to recall. Normally, one would run, wishing to arrive at the destination as soon as possible. But the problem is, do I have a destination?

He stared at the gloomy horizon. The clouds were omnipresent, a blanket stretched as far as the eye could see. It was a mirror, mimicking the frozen plains below, earth and the sky sandwiching the endless field of nothingness.

Ever since we left home all we have seen is a complete wasteland. Nothing moves except the wind. Have a made a mistake? Maybe Lyla was right after all…

He glanced back at his older sister. Lyla had her eyes closed, her hands cradling her elbows. She stumbled once or twice; still she kept her eyes shut, as if wishing that everything were a bad dream.

She had uncertainties about the journey. Yet she still came with me. She believed me, so in return I shouldn't lose hope.

Edward and Lyla have been walking for days, resting only when necessary. Their provisions were not a problem; a single leaf was potent enough to last for half a day. But still, as they now climb a rocky slope, hope is but a mere candlelight in front of the icy winds of doubt.

Though sometimes, a small fire is enough to keep one going.

When they got to the slope's top, what they saw beyond it defied all sense of reasoning.

They were standing on a cliff's edge, and from below it, snow and rubble rolled down, where it ended on a riverbank, where a part of a massive wrecked bridge stands. On their side, thick ice lay over the river, but on the latter, there was fresh blue water. Several fish swam in the seemingly warm liquid, jumping out of the azure several times. On that side's bank laid fresh green grass, as though untouched by a single snowflake, parted by the other half of the bridge, and a cobbled road leading to a heavy gate with tall, purple brick walls.

Edward smiled as though he had never smiled in years, and looked as his sister, wearing that lopsided grin that always annoyed her. Lyla responded with a face of disbelief, the slowly, tears fell.