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45.05% Dread Mage / Chapter 82: Chapter 82 - A Few Gifts

Kapitel 82: Chapter 82 - A Few Gifts

After a hard day's labor, Hrygo allowed Sonder return to the house, but only after she had hauled at least two newly chopped logs back. 

The remainder was transported by Hrygo herself, effortlessly throwing the five additional logs onto her shoulder, carrying them as though they were weightless. 

It took Sonder several hours to deliver the logs to Hrygo's home. 

Her hands were aching, and her skin was shredded, leaving tiny gashes and scrapes scattered across her hands and arm. 

At the very least, she had managed to avoid any splinters. 

Exhausted, Sonder made her way back to Hrygo's home, her body pleading for respite from the day's toll. 

The smoky fragrance of wood hung in the air, blending with the earthy aroma of the forest.

The sun had already begun its descent, and Hrygo must have begun preparing to cook.

There was a smattering of wood splinters near the tool shed, but not much else. 

She imagined that some firewood had been cut and that she had to cut the rest tomorrow.

She released her hold on the tree she was transporting upon spotting an ornate trunk of wood and metal positioned next to the door of Hrygo's house.

The trunk was devoid of a lock but was bound by golden laces. 

She surmised that the creator must have believed that those rich and affluent enough to buy and possess such a trunk would have guards to protect it. 

This had to be the trunk Vell had mentioned; what else could it possibly be? 

Sonder opened the trunk to discover the items Vell had referred to, which he had left her. 

His absence was already felt, and she missed him, despite only a few hours having passed since his departure. 

Inside the trunk was an assortment of items, meticulously arranged. 

A collection of dried herbs and plants were carefully bundled together, their pleasant, aroma filling the air. 

A beautifully fashioned hunting knife with an elaborately designed handle lay within. 

A small journal, bound in leather with blank pages, presumably intended for her to write down her thoughts. 

As she inspected the contents further, she noticed a finely crafted necklace nestled at the bottom of the trunk. It was made of delicate silver, intricately woven together with a pendant in the shape of a soaring bird. It was made of some material that was completely black and reflected no light.

"A Blackbird," she mused. 

 Sonder lifted it gently, feeling its weight in her palm.

"Beautiful craftsmanship," she whispered to herself, marveling at the skill and artistry it took to create such a piece.

There were also books of varying sizes in there. She simply didn't have enough time to sift through everything in the trunk. 

Just then, Hrygo appeared from the house, her unreadable expression watching as Sonder uncovered each gift. 

Her eyes swirled around in the trunk.

Without a word, she selected a small leather pouch, opened it, took a quick look inside, then closed it. 

It had a strong smell of something Sonder couldn't identify. 

Hrygo claimed this as her own. 

"What is this?" Sonder inquired, her eyes wide with curiosity. 

"A pouch of seeds," replied Hrygo, "As precious as the world would deem, and now it belongs to me." 

"Really? Just seeds? I can't imagine they'd be more valuable than anything else in here," Sonder expressed, skeptical of Hrygo's decision. 

"They are more valuable than you know," Hrygo answered cryptically, her gaze fixed on the pouch. Her voice low and tinged with a hint of mystery. "They are seeds of the maniblom, a plant so rare and precious that its blooms only open under the light of a full moon." Then she asked herself, "How did he know?"

"What?" Sonder asked, puzzled. 

"This was both my late father's and my brother's favorite flower. In their letters from their travels, they often wrote about the swathes of maniblom dotting the horizon, far beyond my lands' borders. They wished that I could have seen it. 

We had a little garden full of them, but it died not too long after my father did.

The smell is unmistakable, ingrained in my memory. I'm overwhelmed with nostalgia. How did your master know, Sonder? How could he have? 


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