Eryshae

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Vael

Steam curled around her shoulders, the warmth of the water easing the tightness in her back as it slid down her spine. Vael leaned into the spray, letting it soak through her hair and wash away the flour still dusting her collarbone. She tilted her head, eyes fluttering shut.

Behind her, Sam's hands came to rest gently on her hips. "Missed a spot," he murmured against her ear, his voice velvet-soft and teasing. Vael opened her eyes slowly. "You mean you missed a spot," she said, glancing over her shoulder at him. His chest was streaked with flour and soap suds, and there was still a smudge of chocolate on his jaw. How it had survived this long, she had no idea.

"I think," he said, brushing her damp hair aside and pressing a kiss to her shoulder, "this was all part of your plan to get me into the shower." She let out a low hum. "If I'd planned it, we wouldn't be this behind on packing."

"But considerably more relaxed," he said, sliding his hands from her hips to her waist, his touch slow, reverent, careful in a way that always made her chest ache. Vael turned in his arms, water trailing down the curve of her back. For a moment, they just stood there; his hands on her waist, hers rising to trace the lines of his chest, damp curls clinging to his forehead. His gaze met hers, steady and unguarded. The kind of look that made her forget the things she was supposed to say. "We've never done this before," she said softly. "Gone anywhere. Together."

"I know." His smile softened, and he touched her face, knuckles brushing her cheek. "I've gone places for people. For work. For food. This is the first time I'm going somewhere because of someone."

The words sank in. So did the weight of what they were walking into. Vael rested her forehead to his. "Don't slow us down, city boy." His laugh rumbled in his chest, and the sound echoed in her bones. "I'd chase you through mountains if I had to."

"You probably will." They kissed, warm and slow under the steady rhythm of water, flour forgotten, the journey ahead not quite so intimidating now.

Steam still lingered in the air as they stepped from the warmth of the shower into the cooler hush of the room. Vael wrapped a towel around herself, rubbing at her arms with slow, even strokes. Sam stood nearby, hair damp, a towel slung loosely at his waist as he rummaged through his pack for clean clothes.

Everything was calm. Unrushed. The kind of quiet that asked to be remembered. Vael turned toward the bed, reaching for her tunic, when Sam's voice stopped her.

"Hold on," he said gently.

She turned, curious.

He was holding something delicate in his hands; a necklace. The chain was fine silver, but at its center was a polished, deep green emerald gemstone, the color of forest canopy at dusk. The gemstone shimmered subtly, catching the light, and the color echoed perfectly the rich tones of Vael's verdant hair.

"I saw it at the market a while ago," Sam said softly. "Couldn't stop thinking how it looked like it was made for you." Vael blinked, taken aback by the gift; and by the way his voice held more affection than bravado.

He stepped behind her, brushing her damp hair gently aside. The sensation sent a small shiver down her spine. Carefully, reverently, he fastened the necklace around her neck. The stone rested just below her collarbone, cool against her skin.

Then he turned her back to face him. Sam's eyes roamed her face, but slowly; unhurried and unashamed. Not devouring her, but appreciating her. As if her existence alone was art. "You wear green like it was stitched into your soul," he murmured. "I wanted you to have something that knew it too."

Vael's breath hitched, emotion catching in her throat. She didn't say anything; not yet; but her eyes shimmered. Sam lifted a hand to her face, brushing a loose strand behind her ear. "You don't have to hide," he whispered. "Not from me."

She looked at him for a long moment, then reached for his hand and pressed it to her cheek, her eyes never leaving his. Outside, the world waited. But here, in the hush of the room, surrounded by steam and soft light, it was just them.

The morning light streamed through the tall windows, soft and golden, dust motes dancing like tiny spirits in the air. Vael stood barefoot on the cool stone floor, the hem of her tunic brushing her thighs as she paced from trunk to trunk. Her braid was coming undone again; she'd meant to fix it an hour ago, but every time she reached for the comb, something else stole her attention.

"Boots?" she murmured, turning over a pair in her hands. "Not these; too stiff." She tossed them aside and reached into a half-packed satchel, fingers brushing over a folded map, then a familiar scarf her mother had left in her room weeks ago. She smiled faintly, pulled it out, and tucked it into her own pack without a second thought.

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In the next room, she could hear Sam humming to himself; something upbeat, wordless, content. The kind of tune someone whistled when his hands were busy and his mind was already halfway down the road. Pots clanked. A drawer slammed. And then, "Vael! Did we pack the flint striker or just assume I'm going to make fire by sheer charm?"

She grinned. "Top flap, left side, next to the jerky you're pretending not to eat early." A laugh answered her, warm and bright. She could feel the sound of it settle in her chest like coals under kindling.

Vael fastened the leather ties around one of the travel rolls and sat on the edge of the bed, stretching her legs as she watched the morning build around them. The room was still in disarray; layers of gear, weather cloaks, scroll tubes, and travel permits scattered like battlefield plans. But it was a beautiful chaos. A shared chaos.

This wasn't just a supply run or a scouting mission. This was a journey with purpose. And Sam was at the center of it. She stood, pulling her hair back into a tighter braid, and stepped into the hallway. He met her near the threshold, arms full of wrapped parcels and a knife belt slung over one shoulder. Jerky crumbs dusted his cheek.

"You ready, sweets?" he asked, catching her eye with that crooked smile that undid her more effectively than any spell. Vael exhaled slowly, allowing herself a rare and open smile in return. "Almost. Just making sure you don't forget your striker and your charm."

He bumped her gently with his hip, then struck a pose. "One of those comes naturally." She arched a brow. "The striker?" They both laughed, and in that sound was a bond forged stronger than any chain. Even in the tension that still lingered after the parlor meeting, even with the uncertainty of what awaited them at the Emberhold, Vael knew this much; they would face it together.

Sam stood at the edge of the bedroll, the weathered map unfurled across the low table. Faint lines etched into the parchment marked trade roads, rivers, and borders, and five city-states stood out in deep, deliberate ink: Ichi, Ni, San, Shi, and Go. Each was circled in red wax, their borders carefully inked with thick, defined strokes. Sam stared at them, transfixed.

"How long has this world been mapped?" he murmured. "How long has all of this existed?" Vael looked up from her satchel where she was sorting travel gear. She walked over, eyes following the same paths his fingers traced. "You ever wonder what the whole thing looks like?" Sam asked. "From far away. The entire continent."

Vael tilted her head slightly, studying the parchment. "They say it curves upward and westward… like a crescent or a hooked wing. A jagged coastline runs along the east. Forests and rivers cut through the middle like veins. There's a vast hollow of desert below the western range, and a cold ridge in the far north where the wind never stops. It's been this way for more than a thousand years since the Eryshae Guardians fought off the eldritch."

Sam blinked slowly, his breath catching. That sounds like… North America. The east coast, the Mississippi winding down, the deserts of the southwest, the Rockies… Canada…

"It's familiar," he said softly, the words almost to himself. "The shape. The way it bends…" Vael looked at him curiously. "Familiar from where?"

"From home," Sam said, tapping the edge of the map. "From Earth. Our continent looked almost like that. Maybe not exact, but close. It's strange; like memory and imagination bleeding together." Vael leaned her weight slightly against him, brushing her shoulder to his. "Maybe your world and mine are closer than they seem."

He looked down at her, a quiet smile playing at the edge of his mouth. "Maybe, maybe it is less a place and more a time in space." They stood in stillness, the parchment between them a bridge between two worlds.

Sam didn't move right away. .His eyes returned to the eastern edge of the map, tracing the jagged coastline Vael had vaguely described earlier. He leaned in, eyes narrowing as he scanned the curves and angles inked onto the parchment. A narrow stretch of land jutted southward between two long bodies of water; a familiar shape that pulled at something deep in his memory.

"…That can't be," he murmured. Vael glanced at him, intrigued. "What is it?" He pointed to the peninsula. "That. Right there. It looks just like… back home, it was called the Eastern Shore of Maryland. I lived there. Right before I ended up here."

She tilted her head quizzically. "That's all Eryshae land."

He blinked. "What?"

Vael nodded, brushing her fingers over the peninsula. "That entire stretch belongs to our people. It always has. The rivers protect it from most foreigners, and the soil is rich; good for growing, building, thriving." Sam stared at it, stunned. "The Eryshae Tribe owns the entire peninsula?"

"Yes," she replied with quiet pride. "From the northern tide-gates to the southern marshlands. We hold the ground and water both. And across the bay; " she pointed across a wide swath of pale blue ink, "that's where the City of Ni rises. The seat of the Ni Trading Company and their four Consuls."

He looked to the west, across the painted bay, and saw the symbol of a city; bold, structured lines with tall buildings etched in careful strokes. It stood like a monolith across from the more fluid, natural curves of the Eryshae lands.

Sam swallowed. "It's just like home. That city's where Annapolis would've been. And the water between us… that's the Bay. The Chesapeake." Vael leaned in, eyes flicking between his face and the map. "Your world and this one… they echo each other more than you let on."

His fingertip traced northward, hesitating before tapping another point. "Baltimore would've been here. And further inland; " his hand slid southwest "Washington, D.C. Somewhere in this area."

Vael leaned close beside him, watching his fingers dance across the old parchment. "Do those places mean something to you?"

"They were… important," he said, voice laced with memory. "Capitals, centers of power. Annapolis was near where I lived. Baltimore was the big city. D.C. was the capital of my whole country. I used to drive those roads. Cross those bridges."

His brow furrowed. "But here; " he tapped the dot on the map again, "the City of Ni sits exactly where Annapolis should be." Vael's expression darkened slightly. "Ni has always desired to control the mouth of the bay. It's the gateway to trade and influence. They've carved their wealth from that position for generations."

Sam nodded slowly, eyes still fixed on the map. "Makes sense. It was a naval town back home. A seat of power. And now… it's a seat of power again. For the Ni Trading Company."

"And across that water…" Vael said softly, brushing her hand East over the peninsula, "you have us." After a beat, Sam folded the map with care. "Alright. Let's go see the world, then."