Egalan vivon chapter one
The caravan wound its way down the last stretch of dusty road, wheels creaking, hooves striking against stone. Mira sat wedged between two woven baskets of dried figs, her satchel pressed against her knees, her whole body humming with the rhythm of travel. For weeks she had dreamed of this moment — arriving at the legendary city of Egalan Vivon.
Now, as the high sun burned the air pale and hot, the city rose before her like something out of a tale.
It was vast.
Walls of ochre stone curved outward like the flanks of a great beast, studded with watchtowers. Beyond them, Mira glimpsed rooftops that spilled toward the harbor in tiers of clay and timber. A hundred banners snapped in the breeze — crimson, indigo, gold — each carrying the emblem of a guild or district.
Mira's breath caught in her throat.
She had grown up in villages where roofs sagged with straw and walls leaned crooked in the rain. Here, the very air seemed charged, alive.
By the gates, the caravan slowed. A guard in bronze-plated leather inspected their goods, passing his hand over jars of oil, bolts of cloth, cages of restless hens. When his eyes landed on Mira, she felt suddenly exposed, though he asked her nothing. The merchant-master offered a scroll of permits, a few coins changed hands, and then — with a grunt — the gates opened.
They passed inside.
The first thing Mira noticed was the noise.
Drums thudded from some unseen courtyard, their beat heavy and urgent. Vendors called from their stalls in a dozen tongues Mira didn't recognize — words tumbling over one another like waves. The air smelled of roasted chickpeas, spiced lamb, salt from the harbor, and something sharper — smoke from a blacksmith's forge.
Mira turned her head this way and that, trying to drink it all in. Dark-skinned traders draped in patterned cloth haggled over piles of dates. Pale-faced sailors pushed carts of salted fish. A pair of children darted past, their hands painted red and gold, laughter cutting through the din.
Her heart raced with awe and fear all at once.
The caravan inched forward, then drew to a halt in a side square. The merchant-master hopped down from his wagon, barking orders to unload. His workers scattered, shoulders bent under crates and bales. Mira stayed seated until the driver nudged her.
"End of the road for you, girl," he said. His voice was rough but not unkind. "This is as far as the caravan goes."
Mira scrambled down, clutching her satchel. The ground felt unsteady beneath her feet, as though the earth itself was shifting with the weight of the city. She opened her mouth to thank the driver, but he was already turning away, shouting at a boy to tie up the oxen.
And just like that, she was alone.
The caravan dissolved into the crowd as though it had never existed. The baskets, the voices she had grown used to, the steady rhythm of wheels — all swallowed up in the tide of Egalan Vivon.
Mira tightened her grip on her satchel strap.
People surged around her, barely sparing her a glance. She had imagined stepping into the city like crossing a threshold into destiny, as if someone would be waiting to guide her, to say her name. Instead, she was just another face, another body pressed into the chaos.
For a while she wandered aimlessly. She drifted past a fountain where women filled jars with water, past a smithy where sparks leapt into the air, past a stall where a man roasted spiced meat on skewers until the scent made her stomach ache. Everywhere she turned, the streets seemed to unfold endlessly, narrow alleys opening onto markets, markets spilling into courtyards.
At last she stopped in the shade of an awning, her chest tight.
What now?
She had thought the city itself would tell her what to do. Instead, it left her dizzy, swallowed whole.
"Lost, are you?"
Mira started. A woman stood beside her stall of painted pottery, her arms folded, eyes narrowed in amusement. She was middle-aged, her dark hair bound in a scarf, her sleeves rolled to the elbow. She studied Mira as though weighing her, but not unkindly.
Mira opened her mouth, then closed it again.
The woman raised a brow. "Well, you're here now. What you gonna do, bub?"
Heat rose in Mira's cheeks. She managed a shrug, hugging her satchel closer.
The woman chuckled and turned back to her work, rearranging bowls whose glazed surfaces caught the sun. "Egalan Vivon doesn't wait for dreamers. You'll learn."
Mira lingered a moment longer, but no answer came to her lips. The crowd surged again, swallowing sound and space. She let herself be carried by it, step after uncertain step.
As the sun dipped lower, Mira felt it again — that strange unease, like a weight pressing just behind her eyes. She paused in the middle of the street, breath quickening. It was as though something unseen had turned its gaze upon her, as though the city itself was listening.
She shook her head, forcing the thought away, and pressed on.
But the feeling stayed with her.
The sense that she had crossed a threshold. And that the city — vast, ancient, unknowable — was not finished with her yet.
