The Broken Road
"I want you to send me away, far away, to a new place where I can start over."
The Old Man pauses, his black eyes sharp as spear points. He seems to take your measure and find you wanting, all in a moment.
You quail under his gaze, before drawing yourself up. "I… Looking back, I realize in the past I have not acted as I should. I realize I've burned too many bridges-"
"Among other things," the Old Man interjects, causing your face to flush red with embarrassment.
You refuse to be distracted. "- too many bridges. I just… I just need a chance and I won't get that here."
He pauses again, pondering your statement before replying, his eyes far away. "I first met you when you were one. You'd driven off the servants assigned to take care of you, one after another, the last coming to me in tears, begging to be let out of her contract so she wouldn't have to be in the same building as you. In the interests of not having to replace my entire staff, I decided to look in on you. You took one look at me, stretched out your hand and set my beard on fire from across the room, and I knew, knew, that I had found my heir, the one to whom I would one day entrust this academy. And now… Now you ask me to send you away, so far away that you will likely never see this place again, and after all these years I cannot think of a reason not to. I suppose… I was wrong." For a moment, he looks every bit as old and worn as his years would suggest. And then the moment passes, and he is the Old Man again, as tough and inscrutable as a lightning scarred oak. "All right, girl, you want to leave?"
"I do," you say, dismissing doubts.
"And I suppose you thought of just walking away? There are caravans leaving the Town daily, adventuring parties haring off to raid the tombs of far greater men, explorers recruiting for their next expedition… The possibilities are endless."
"I fear my reputation would follow me like a sickness. I need a clean break."
He nods to himself, then sighs, extending his hand to you. "Take my hand."
You do without hesitation. His hand is warm and dry, and you can feel the frailty of his bones underneath skin like tissue paper, but there is a wiry strength there…
He curls his other hand into a sign, a word leaves his lips and shudders upon the air and then you are somewhere else, a stone island in the middle of still, clear lake. A cave roof arches high over head, heavy with a forest of dagger-like stalactites. You can't the walls of the cavern and it seems somehow profane to bring a light into this place.
The only illumination is a glow from the center of the island. After your eyes brush against the rest of your surroundings, they fix on the source of that glow and you barely keep yourself from gasping and ruining the thunderous silence.
At the center of the bare stone isle glows a pattern, a two-dimensional labyrinth, a flowing gracefully into a spiraling circle that lead, inevitably to the center… The pattern smolders with golden light like molten honey. Except it was… marred. Black cracks shot through it in places. In other it's slashed and torn. In still others, it's dimmed and corroded, as if splashed by some strange acid.
It was warped, imperfect, broken…
"Beautiful," you whisper as its wrongness clicks with you.
The Old Man glances at you oddly, the golden light of the pattern glinting in his black eyes. "It is called the Broken Road. According to the writings of my predecessors, if you walk to the center you can wish yourself to anywhere in this world or any other… In theory, anyway."
"In theory?" you ask the Old Man, somewhat alarmed.
"No one has ever come back from the journey."
"Then how do they know it sends you anywhere?" you say, a touch of panic coloring your voice.
"Countless years of scholarship and a thousand upon a thousand divination spells," the Old Man answered calmly. "Still, it is not something to be taken lightly. Once you step upon the path, return may be impossible."
You turn back to stare at the hypnotic imperfection of the Broken Road.
What do you do?
[X] Walk the Broken Road
[X] Maybe this isn't such a good idea (Will likely eliminate this option for the foreseeable future. The Old Man does not approve of waffling.)
[X] Write-in.
Note: You are currently wearing a sweat-stained, black robes. You have knife sheathed at your hip and a hip pouch filled with 3 silver and 13 copper pieces. You have the rest of your savings (including 9 gold, a finely made silver ring, a small red garnet stone, and seventeen silver pieces) in a small leather pouch strung around your neck on a silk cord and tucked into your bodice.
If you'd like, you can try to focus on something other than friends as you walk, but changing that now may have consequences…