Compass to False North Wheel of Destiny — Morimens

The old witch drifted between merchant ships, her figure always cloaked in the shadows of her tattered robe. The compass, she said, would guide people exactly where they were meant to go. The sailors laughed and jeered at her herb-scented nonsense, tossed down five Leonian Florins, and walked away with the exquisite brass trinket. Later, they docked at a small harbor town—one that would eventually lose its name. Pontos loved this story. The compass's owner was charmed by Pontos. After all, no one could dislike Pontos—he was humorous, cheerful, as carefree as a passing breeze. Gifted to his beloved nephew, it was meant to be a wonderful keepsake, a key to awaken his yearning for the distant town. Yet, it concealed the boy from him. Pontos would not allow it, nor would he ever permit his nephew's life to take any other course. Years passed, and as Pontos wandered through countless moonlit nights, searching for the figure who should have returned to Ebwynnos, this was exactly what he thought. Oh right, that futile, protective spell had worn off at last. Pontos could finally bring him back. Pontos knew the old tale well—that the compass guides people exactly where they are meant to go. What he failed to realize, however, was that just as every ship charts its own course, different travelers will inevitably choose different paths.