The Mapmaker’s Warning
310 Words
The tavern in Blackmere was quieter than usual.
A lone figure sat at the corner table, a heavy cloak draped over his shoulders, hood pulled low to hide his face. His fingers traced the rim of his tankard as he watched the entrance, waiting.
Then, the door swung open.
Callum Vex stepped inside.
His coat was still patched from his last adventure, the faint outline of a dagger hidden beneath the folds. He moved with the same easy confidence he always had, but his eyes held something new—a weight that hadn’t been there before.
Behind him, Lyra Vale and Varik Storme followed.
The hooded figure exhaled. “You made it.”
Callum smirked. “Miss me, Aldric?”
The old mapmaker shook his head. “Not particularly. But I have something you’ll want to see.”
Callum pulled out a chair and sat. “This about the Citadel?”
Aldric’s expression darkened. He reached beneath the table and pulled out a weathered scroll, rolling it open. Ancient symbols lined the parchment—symbols Callum recognized.
Lyra frowned. “That’s… the same script from the compass.”
Aldric nodded. “The Veil wasn’t the only one searching for it.” He tapped a mark at the center of the scroll—a spiral insignia, similar to the one on the gateway.
Callum’s smirk faded. “You’re saying someone else is still looking?”
Aldric met his gaze.
“I’m saying that what you buried might not stay buried.”
A heavy silence settled over the table.
Then, Varik chuckled. “Well, I was getting bored anyway.”
Callum sighed, but his fingers were already itching for adventure.
He pushed the scroll toward him, scanning the markings.
And then, with a slow grin, he leaned back in his chair.
“Well then,” he murmured.
“Where to next?”
- Writer
