A Mother Of No Destination -

Elora was a woman defined by the miles she had traveled, though she had never once looked at a map. In the seaside village of Oakhaven, they called her the "Mother of No Destination."

That night, Elora passed away quietly. When the villagers found her, the trunk was gone. In its place was a single, new stone resting on her lap. It had no name on it yet, but it was glowing faintly in the moonlight—a final passenger ready for the next long walk. A Mother of No Destination

She opened her trunk. It wasn't filled with gold or heirlooms, but with thousands of small, smooth river stones. On each stone, a name was painted in delicate indigo ink—names of people who had been forgotten, travelers who never made it home, and souls who died with nowhere to go. Elora was a woman defined by the miles

A young man, a traveler himself with a pack full of maps, sat beside her. "You’ve spent your life wandering, yet you’re still here," he remarked. "Didn't you ever want to arrive?" In its place was a single, new stone resting on her lap