The road leading away from Rivermoor stretched far beyond the hills, disappearing into a thin line beneath the pale morning sky. The village behind Ethan Hale was slowly waking up, but he had already walked for hours.
Each step felt heavy.
Not because the road was long, but because leaving home meant leaving everything familiar behind.
Ethan adjusted the strap of the worn leather bag hanging from his shoulder. Inside were only a few pieces of bread, a small bottle of water, a knife given by his brother Daniel, and a handful of coins.
It wasn't much, but it was enough.
Enough to start the journey.
Enough to search for Isla Whitmore.
The memory of that terrible day still burned inside him. The smoke rising from the village, the chaos in the streets, and the moment when their eyes met as the soldiers dragged her away.
He clenched his fists as he walked.
"I will find you," he whispered quietly.
The wind carried his voice across the empty road.
By midday the sun was high, and Ethan had reached a long stretch of farmland. Golden wheat moved gently with the wind, and farmers worked quietly in the distance.
He stopped near a well beside the road to drink some water.
An old farmer leading a donkey approached slowly and studied him.
"You look like someone traveling far," the farmer said.
"I am," Ethan replied.
"Running from the war?"
"No."
"Then what are you chasing?"
Ethan hesitated before answering.
"Someone important."
The farmer nodded slowly as if he understood more than Ethan had said.
"The roads ahead are dangerous these days," the old man warned.
"Bandits, soldiers, hungry travelers… the war has changed many things."
"I know," Ethan replied.
"But I can't stop."
The farmer looked toward the northern hills.
"Then follow the northern road. Many wagons passed there days ago. Soldiers too."
Ethan's heart skipped a beat.
"Soldiers?"
"Yes."
"Did they have prisoners?"
The old man frowned slightly.
"I saw wagons with people inside. Hard to tell who they were."
Ethan felt a spark of hope.
"Which direction did they go?"
"North," the farmer answered. "Toward the industrial cities."
Industrial cities.
Ethan had heard stories about them—cities full of smoke and factories where machines never slept.
Could Isla be there?
"Thank you," Ethan said.
The farmer nodded and continued down the road with his donkey.
Ethan wasted no time.
He followed the northern road without looking back.
The next few days were difficult.
The road became rougher as the land slowly changed. The peaceful farms disappeared, replaced by rocky hills and dense forests.
Sometimes Ethan walked for hours without seeing another person.
At night he slept beneath trees or inside abandoned barns.
The food in his bag slowly disappeared.
But every time exhaustion tried to stop him, he remembered Isla's frightened voice calling his name.
And that memory pushed him forward.
One evening Ethan finally reached a small town called Stonebridge.
The town was built around a wide river crossed by an old stone bridge. Lanterns hung from wooden buildings, lighting the streets with warm yellow light.
The smell of cooked food drifted through the air.
Ethan stepped into a small tavern near the bridge.
Inside, travelers sat around wooden tables talking loudly. Some were merchants, others soldiers or workers heading toward the northern cities.
Ethan approached the tavern keeper, a heavy man with a thick beard.
"Excuse me," Ethan said politely.
"Yes?" the man replied.
"I'm looking for information about Ironvale City."
The tavern keeper raised his eyebrows.
"That's far from here."
"Do you know the road?"
"Yes. North from here for several days."
Ethan nodded slowly.
"Do soldiers pass through here often?"
"Sometimes."
"And… prisoners?"
The tavern keeper lowered his voice slightly.
"More often than people like to admit."
Ethan's heart tightened.
"Do they take them to Ironvale?"
"Many do," the man answered.
Ethan stared at the table for a moment.
This confirmed what he feared.
Isla could truly be there.
"Thank you," Ethan said quietly.
The tavern keeper poured him a cup of water.
"You look exhausted," he said.
"You can sleep in the stable behind the tavern tonight."
Ethan nodded gratefully.
"That would help a lot."
That night Ethan lay in the hay inside the stable.
The sounds of horses shifting in their stalls surrounded him.
Above, the night sky was clear, filled with stars.
He stared at them silently.
Somewhere far beyond the mountains and roads was Ironvale City.
Somewhere in that city was Isla.
He closed his eyes.
"Wait for me," he whispered.
"I'm coming."
Far away in Ironvale, the factory bell rang late into the night.
Inside the dormitory, Isla Whitmore sat beside the small window near her bed.
Her hands were sore from the endless work of the machines. The cotton dust still clung to her clothes.
Beside her, Lena Carter was already asleep.
But Isla couldn't sleep.
She looked through the window at the faint stars barely visible through the factory smoke.
For a moment, a strange feeling filled her heart.
Hope.
As if somewhere far away, someone had started walking toward her.
And though she didn't know it yet…
Every step Ethan took was bringing him closer to Ironvale City.
Closer to her.
Closer to the moment when fate would finally bring their paths together again.