Date: April 8, 542 years since the Fall of Zanra the Dishonored.
They woke to birdsong. Sobra opened his eyes first, raised his head, listened. Datuk, feeling the bear stir, woke too, stretched, his spine cracking. Morning was clear, sunny, and the valley, wreathed in light mist, seemed even more beautiful than the day before.
"We'll go further today," Datuk said, rolling his shoulders. "See what these places have to offer."
They breakfasted on the remains of yesterday's food, gathered their simple belongings, and moved deeper into the valley, where the trees stood thickest and the air was heavy with pine and flowering herbs.
But the further they went, the stranger the compass's behavior became.
At first, Datuk didn't notice. He just walked, enjoying the morning, ignoring Sobra, who kept stopping, sniffing, looking around. But when the bear stopped for the third time, tilting his head and staring at something, Datuk grew alert.
"What's there?"
Sobra snorted and nudged his scruff. Datuk stepped closer, looked. The compass, which had glowed steadily yesterday, now pulsed unevenly, its needle swinging, unable to settle on a direction.
"What's this?" Datuk frowned. "Broken?"
Sobra shook his head. No, not broken. Something else.
They moved on, but the compass continued its strange behavior. The needle circled, paused for a moment, pointing east, then west, then north, then started its frantic dance again. The light flared, faded, as if the device were trying to catch something slipping away.
"Maybe we've already arrived?" Datuk suggested. "The compass led us here, now it's just showing the goal is reached."
Sobra looked at him doubtfully. He didn't know what was happening, but he felt it — this wasn't the end. Something was wrong.
They walked for several more hours. The valley revealed its beauty: tall trees whose crowns reached the sky, small lakes with clear water, meadows full of flowers Datuk had never seen. The place was beautiful. And in that beauty, something was troubling.
By midday, the compass had completely lost its bearings. Its needle spun so fast it became a blue blur, and the light grew dim, almost invisible.
"That's it," Datuk said, stopping. "It's not leading anymore. Doesn't know where to go."
Sobra sat in the grass, sighing heavily. He stared at the compass, and in his gaze was confusion Datuk had seen only a few times in all their years of friendship.
"Alright," Datuk sat beside him, thinking. "If the compass doesn't know, we decide."
He looked around. All around was forest — thick, beautiful, but identical in every direction. No path, no landmark, no stream to guide the way. Just tall grass, flowers, and trees reaching for the sky.
"Which way?" he asked.
Sobra raised his head, sniffed. Then looked at the sun, high in the sky, and shifted his gaze to where the forest seemed denser, the shadows darker. Where, perhaps, was the thing the compass had led them to find.
"That way?" Datuk pointed.
Sobra nodded.
"Good," Datuk stood, brushing himself off. "That way we go."
They moved into the forest's heart, where the trees' crowns intertwined, blocking sunlight, and the air grew cool and damp. The compass in Sobra's fur still spun, but now its light seemed to lean slightly in the direction they walked. Or so it seemed.
Datuk didn't know what awaited them in the center of these lands. Didn't know why the compass had stopped working or what they were meant to find. But he knew one thing: they hadn't come here by chance. And the answers, whatever they might be, waited where they were now heading.
Ahead, the forest grew thicker, and in its depths, a perpetual twilight reigned. Datuk walked, his hand on Sobra's shoulder, feeling his friend's tension and focus. Something was in this place. Something that had silenced the compass. Something waiting where they were going.
They entered the deep forest, and the shadows closed behind them, cutting off the path back.