Nerun and the Path of Sparks

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Night had long since fallen, but the sky above the cliffs remained trapped in a pale gray, as if refusing to transition into darkness. Nerun sat on a rock, her knees drawn up, her backpack leaning against her side. The plant lights burned all around her like tiny fires, yet there was no warmth in them. They were light without flame, memory without body. The blonde woman—Nerun's companion, who had barely revealed a word about herself—silently checked her equipment. Nerun eyed her furtively. The woman seemed experienced, grounded, and yet there was something in her gaze that Nerun couldn't interpret: perhaps sadness, perhaps knowledge she didn't want to share. "You still haven't told me your name," Nerun finally broke the silence. The woman didn't look up, but tightened the leather straps of her backpack. "Names aren't that important." "Yes," Nerun objected, "they are like keys. If I can't name you, then I can't remember you." A brief, dry smile flitted across the woman's face. "Then call me Lira. Whether that's my true name or not doesn't matter. You'll remember it." Nerun repeated the name softly, as if carving it into her horns. "Lira." A gust of wind shuddered the plants, and small sparks detached themselves from their tips. They floated into the air like fireflies, rising higher as if they had a destination, and then glided along the cliffs toward the north. Nerun jumped to her feet. "Do you see that? They're showing us the way!" Lira rose slowly, studying the sparks with a serious expression. "Or they're leading us where they need us." But Nerun felt it in every fiber of her being: This was no coincidence. The light within had shown her the bridge, and now it was as if it wanted to lead her to it. She resolutely shouldered her backpack and didn't wait for approval. Her steps began to move, firm and impatient, following the sparks. The path was narrow, in places little more than a slanted ledge above the roaring sea. Nerun's boots slipped more than once on the wet moss, but she kept her balance, braced herself against the rocks, and continued on. Lira followed at a measured distance, ever vigilant, ever ready to pull Nerun back should she fall. With every step, the sparks grew more numerous, as if the plants along the path had decided to join her journey. Soon, a whole stream of light glided above them—a shimmering river decorating the sky. Nerun gazed up in wonder. "A path of sparks," she whispered. "It will lead us somewhere no stone path will reach." She felt the glow penetrating her, as if uncovering memories that were not her own. Images flashed before her: people walking across bridges of light; shadowy beings watching her in return; gates opening and closing. Each image was fleeting, yet it made Nerun's heart beat faster. Suddenly, Lira stopped. "Do you hear that?" The sea roared as always, but beneath it was another sound: a hum, deep and vibrating, as if the rock itself were singing.