The Deal

Chapter 3: The Dry Riverbed

The riverbed was nothing more than a winding scar in the earth, bordered by parched banks that still bore the memory of water. Joren and Milla walked in silence, each lost in thought, their footsteps kicking up small clouds of dust. The sun, now high in the sky, cast a relentless heat that seemed to suck the air dry, making each breath a labor.

As they reached a familiar spot, a bend in the riverbed where they had played as children, they sat on a large, sun-bleached rock that had once been submerged. The rock was warm under them, and Joren ran his hand over its smooth surface, imagining the cool touch of water that had once flowed over it.

Milla pulled her knees up to her chest, watching a lone hawk circle above them. "Do you remember," she started, her voice tinged with nostalgia, "when we used to pretend this river was a monstrous serpent, and we were the famed heroes tasked with taming it?"

Joren smiled faintly, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "I remember you always wanted to be the Serpent Queen, commanding it to do your bidding."

She laughed, a short, sad sound. "Look at us now, Joren. Commanding nothing but dust and waiting for diviners to tell us our worth."

Joren's smile faded, and he looked out over the dry riverbed. "I can't accept that our fate is just to endure this... this emptiness. There has to be more for us than this."

Milla turned to him, her expression serious. "That's why we need to talk, Joren. You know as well as I do that the diviners aren't coming back for us. They didn't see what they needed to see in you—or in any of us."

He nodded, the weight of his failed test settling heavily on his shoulders again. "I know. And I've been thinking about that all morning. About what the old blacksmith, Mr. Dalen, told me about the compass."

"Compass?" Milla's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

Joren reached into his pocket and pulled out the ancient compass Mr. Dalen had given him. He handed it to her, watching as she turned it over in her hands. The compass was old and tarnished, but the needle swung with a certainty that belied its age.

"Mr. Dalen believes this compass points to something important—something forgotten that could change everything for us here," Joren explained, his voice low, infused with a mix of hope and uncertainty.

Milla looked up at him, her eyes wide. "Change everything? How?"

"He didn't know, or wouldn't say. But he spoke of the old legends, of times when the elements were in balance and the land was fertile and alive. He thinks this compass could lead us to... to whatever might restore that balance."

"And you believe him?" Milla asked, skepticism threading through her tone.

Joren took the compass back and stared at it, watching the needle. "I want to believe there's a chance. What if there's a way to bring the water back? To end this drought that's slowly killing everything we know?"

Milla watched him, her lips pressed tightly together. Then, slowly, she nodded. "Okay. So, what's your plan?"

Joren looked up, determination settling over his features like a mask. "I plan to follow this compass. See where it leads. I have to know if there's something out there, Milla. And I want you to come with me."

Milla took a deep breath, looking out over the barren riverbed, then back at Joren. "To leave Elmswood... to leave everything we know..."

"It's a risk," Joren admitted, his voice steady despite the pounding of his heart. "But it's one I need to take. With or without the diviners' blessing."

She nodded slowly, a fire kindling in her eyes. "Then we'll take it together."

They sat for a while longer, talking through their plans, their voices growing more animated as they sketched out a rough map of their journey based on the stories they'd heard and the steady pull of the compass needle. By the time they rose from the rock, the sun was beginning to dip toward the horizon, casting long shadows across the dry riverbed.

As they walked back to the village, the compass tucked safely in Joren's pocket, there was a new spring in their step. They were no longer just survivors of the drought; they were seekers, adventurers on the brink of a journey that might just change everything.