My Wish at the End of the World

One Day on a Sunburnt Road

Five years and no shard, but instead two books, one filled with clues and one with stories. Generally a useless binary, all stories are clues and all clues are stories, but useful for the purpose of choosing stories to tell on the road. It's been fruitful, with me even performing for some local, small nobility. It is a good job, and travels with me.

"What is-?" the other person starts but the person next to me growls.

"Shut it," they say. Probably a headache. It is hot, and I think they're out of water.

"Sorry," the person on the floor says, receiving only a grunt in response.

The rest of the ride passes, my throat getting progressively dryer, the person beside me eventually starting to softly snore, the sky out the window still a bright blue.

I take the time to recount the legend, Fin and the Dropped Wish, to myself again, as I sometimes do while bored.

Millenia ago, a drunken god, most tellings agree on Fin, gave a wizard a wish. Many tellings based on location and origin vary between terms like sage, witch, enchantress, etc. with some even using spirit, queen, or demigod, but most at least use a feminine term for a magic user. What comes next has the largest variance, but the most common telling is the wish was too hot, and the wizard dropped it, so it shattered on the ground, seven shards flying across the continent and enshrining themselves. The only thing consistent behind any telling, that I can't track down to a specific person intentionally changing it, is the wish being broken into seven pieces multiple thousands of years ago. Reasons, creator, breaker, whether or not it was intentional and location change drastically.

The slide at the front of the carriage opens and I look at it, the driver leaning down, her mouth visible through it.

"Hey, all of you. We're getting close to the city," she says. "Twenty minutes, get yourself ready. Remember, I'm only responsible for getting you there and nothing else." I blink my eyes a few times, refocusing. Around me the other people are stirring, checking their bags. I would do that, but I don't have anything worth stealing. I even had to beg for a small discount to be let into this cart, I'm completely out of anything worth anything. I put away my book and I'm ready.

We stop, and I hear the driver bargain with guards at the gate. The driver opens the window and a guard peers through it. It closes, and a minute later the cart starts moving again. I watch the top of the gate, a new portcullis in millennia old walls.

I go over the history of the city I bothered to remember. Millenia ago it was a fortified city housing a castle in the foothills, but then the castle, made of stone, burned down and in its place was a small wooden hut. Rumors swirled, and the land around the city withered into a desert. A century ago it was discovered again, and a small number of texts describing the burning were found. Scholars investigated for a few decades, finding no evidence for either the castle or its burning, or any fire at the time the legend references. This created a small tourist industry, with the current residents living on the bones of it and trying to find new ways to survive. The wooden house has remained, both out of superstition and as hope that it becomes a tourist trap again. People are resilient, so I'm sure the residents will find something, but my hopes are banking on the work of decades of scholars being incorrect, and I don't have the time or means to help.

We pass through the city, the low rumble of the city and murmurs filling the silence, and the walls and tops of buildings seen through the window are finally a way to somewhat judge distance. Soon we stop, and the driver unlocks the door.

"Out, out," she says and we rush out, bumping into each other and stumbling out of the opening.

I look around, seeing the ramshackle town. It's too small for the walls, but still sizeable with about a thousand residents, and a lot of the open spaces and alleys are covered in scraps from destroyed homes, weeds, and a few cesspits. A few seconds after I see everything, I smell everything and pinch my nose. The dung, sweat, and a few other mixed scents.