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Chapter Text

In days long gone, there were thirteen gods. 

Legend and religious texts alike tell the tale of the formation of the continent of Orsterra, an expansive land known for its natural beauty. History informs the curious that thirteen heavenly powers once created the incredible world, and Orsterra remained the peak of their immense strength even long after they had come and gone from the realm of the living. 

At the center of Orsterra, an ocean known as the Central Sea could be found, and some have come to believe that the gods once used it as an entry point between the divine heaven and the mortal plane. Thirteen gods with the faces of man appeared from the skies above and created beauty from what had once been nothing. Each of the gods had a different gift to offer the empty earth, and it was through these presents that the land was able to survive and flourish. It's the oldest story known to humanity, one that every child knows from the glimmering sands of the Coastlands to the shaded skies of the Woodlands. 

Aelfric acted as the cornerstone of everything that the gods stood for, a symbol of purity and hope above the tumultuous realm around her. Her smile was said to spread warmth and joy to all who happened to cross her path. Aelfric's dominion over light allowed her to create the sun in the sky, and it cast its gentle glow upon the people of Orsterra. The sun reflected the gleam of her perfection perfectly, and paintings of the bygone era are often said to depict her endless radiance. 

Sealticge was Aelfric's opposite in many ways despite the countless similarities that they shared. She was an alluring woman who captured the attention of those around her without even needing to try. She was the mistress of the shadows, and darkness followed her beck and call each time that she took a step forward. Sealticge was the one who pressed the moon into the sky, and the pearl of the nighttime gem continued to smile and watch the people for countless centuries. 

Alephan was a curious man, and he offered the beauty of time to civilization. Aelfric and Sealticge gifted light and darkness to Orsterra, but Alephan balanced them out after striking a perfect middle point between the two. Ice crept along the edges of his robes as he created the cycle of day and night, and the Earth began to spin at his wishes. He was wise enough to understand how to change everything, and the world itself followed his whims when he pushed it in the perfect way, something that only he could determine. 

Winnehild's sense of order was unparalleled, and her instincts were renowned in every way imaginable. She simply had an understanding of the world around her that most others lacked, and it seemed as if the universe itself was whispering in her ear, telling all of its secrets to its warrior proxy of steel. Winnehild offered another degree of stability to the concept of time, and the seasons bled between her fingers when she provided her gift. Spring, summer, autumn, and winter were born under her influence and perfect sense of internalized peace. 

Steorra came to be known for her passion and belief in the world around her. Hope filled each breath that she took, and those who found her teachings often cited her as a sign that heaven truly existed. Destiny followed Steorra's wishes above all of the other gods, and she was given the chance to see what the future had to hold beyond the bindings of time. She spread her palms wide and created the starry sky, a reference to the very readings that had allowed her to understand what she considered fated. 

Brand created the ground itself. He was a stoic man, and his undying loyalty and unwavering faith allowed him to persevere through even the darkest of scenarios. Creating a realm was no easy feat, but Brand grounded the gods around him and forged the earth from a place where there had once been only traces of stardust. Rock and stone spread outwards in every direction, and Brand watched as the horizon was filled with his gift of stability and security against even the clutches of hell. 

Bifelgan's optimism was unparalleled, something that all the people of Orsterra had come to admire and yearn for throughout the many years of her life. Her sheer determination and confidence in the world around her allowed the plants below to begin to sprout, and greenery covered the stones that had been forged as a foundation. She was the first to create life, and the winds of fortune blew in the direction of those who believed in the power that she was capable of utilizing. 

Draefendi had been rooted in tradition for as long as any of the gods could remember, and her mind offered her images from many years prior of beautiful creatures that she would never be able to forget. The huntress of thunder followed in Bifelgan's footsteps to create life, but in her case, she gave breath to the animals of Orsterra. Various creatures manifested under her watchful eye, and she presented each of them with honor, dignity, and the right to live as all animals deserved. 

Dohter's generosity was known far and wide throughout his time on the mortal plane. He firmly believed that all living creatures deserved to receive assistance when they were suffering, and he extended a welcoming hand to those who needed it most. Dohter granted charity and health to the living beings that had been forged under the care of the other gods, and the plants grew stronger than ever before as animals flourished. Nature itself listened to his every beck and call without hesitation, providing to those who required his aid without hesitation. 

Aeber was often called the god of luck, and those who encountered him would never be able to forget his trademark smirk and easy presence. He was mischievous, but he was far from being deliberately harmful or cruel to those around him. Aeber's influence over powers often said to be out of mortal control were granted to the people of Orsterra. When asked about his gift, it is often said that the god simply shrugged his shoulders and said that they would understand when his blessing of fortune had been passed down. 

Balogar had a strong sense of justice that could never hope to be matched, and his confidence in the law never wavered. He believed that, regardless of the obstacle, the forces of warmth and purity would ultimately prevail. Balogar was quick to give the land the same natural order that thrived within his very blood, and he created the law that would govern Orsterra for generations to come. He wanted nothing more than the best for the people that followed his teachings, and so, he offered them his most precious trait: his faith in humanity's triumph. 

Dreisang's influence over the arts of magic could never be overestimated. Energy itself swayed to his wishes, understanding that he was the true master of powers beyond human explanation. In the days of the gods, magic had been something only the divine could master, but Dreisang, despite his traditional thought process, was a generous man. He gave humanity the ability to use the same strength that he had discovered and learned to wield so many years prior, and the arcane power of magic was born under his intent yet detached gaze. 

Out of the thirteen gods, twelve of their names had become commonplace to speak, and the people praised those who had brought them so many blessings over the course of countless generations. Prayers were whispered in homes and churches alike, praying for the favor of the divine beings who had brought life to Orsterra. The people understood the truth that they were indebted to the gods, and even if none of the heavenly creatures held it as leverage against them, the fact remained. None of them would ever be able to forget. 

But the thirteenth of the gods was different. The other twelve were a gleeful song on the breeze that seemed to create a perfect melody, but the final member of the group was the fallen among them. His name was enough to send a shiver down the spine of even the most confident of people. Some claimed that he was the master of hell, and those who were sent to his domain would suffer for all of eternity. 

Galdera had always been a dark and mysterious man, influenced heavily by his own emotions. His morbid sense of curiosity, something that rivaled even Alephan's wonder for the world at large, left him as a strange figure even among the eccentric gods. He yearned for something darker, something almost disturbing that none were fully ready to acknowledge. His goals had been unknown throughout much of his life, and the lack of information was enough to strike fear into the hearts of any person. 

Galdera's gift to the people had been the present of life itself. The people of Orsterra were only allowed to thrive because of Galdera's power. It was his most beautiful power, giving all of the people the power to rise and fall on their own terms. Life was in the hands of humanity, and it was only thanks to Galdera that such a power was palpable at all. 

But then he began to change. It had started with a shadow over his eyes that made it seem as if he was always examining those around him with something dark and critical. From there, his posture had shifted, and the way that he carried himself gained a shaded sense of confidence that left the gods unsettled around him. He was no longer the man that they had come to know, and even though none of them were willing to openly confess it to one another, they were aware. After all, they were a team, a collection of individuals that had changed the world and molded it into something to be admired. It was ridiculous to even imply that Galdera would want to turn against them under any circumstances. 

After the creation of Orsterra, the gods had returned to the divine plane, ascending through the heavenly stairway found at the center of the circular continent. Galdera waited until he was positive that he wouldn't be detected, and then he made the journey back down to Earth. The power of the gods flourished there, and he was able to access it easily by tapping into the power of life that connected all of them. The twelve elements of the gods united when he pressed his palm to the ground below, and Galdera could feel the power crackling beneath his fingers. 

The human world was a mystery to all of them. Even if the gods had provided strength to the Earth, there were many things that they lacked knowledge about. If none of the other gods would do anything to learn more about the world at large, Galdera would have to take it into his hands. He was more than happy to do such a thing, and he barely seemed to regret turning against the wishes of his comrades to explore the world of mortals. 

The agreement had been that the gods would only interfere with Orsterra if they found it to be absolutely necessary. Humans held great potential for both creation and destruction, but the gods refused to allow for their own hubris to interfere with the beings that lived beneath the heavenly plane. It didn't seem right to assert their power in a place where they did not belong. The gods had their own home, and so, they would leave the humans to their abode as well. 

Galdera's betrayal had come as a surprise. In hindsight, the gods all knew that this had been inevitable from the second that Galdera's eyes began to fill with shadows. They continued to watch from beyond, praying that Galdera would return to them soon. Deep down, they all understood that they had seen the last of their companion's sanity, and the truth was asserted the day that the power of life was stolen forever. 

Galdera had given the humans the power of life itself. He absorbed the strength of his allies, and his magic grew corrupted. Such distinct elements were not meant to be combined into one, and that left him tainted with the touch of something terribly vile. Galdera's gift of life began to shift and morph into something disgusting, and then, death came. 

It happened at first with an elderly man. Without the gift of life that Galdera had granted, his body gave out from beneath him. It had been unheard of in ancient times for any creature to die, human or mortal. Galdera's gift of life should have prevented such an event from taking place, and yet, there the elderly man was, unmoving on the ground as breath left his lungs for the final time. 

The present of life had changed and become the horror of death. No longer was eternal life a reality on Orsterra; death was the only option that awaited at the end of a creature's existence. The gods were shaken to their cores, and they all followed the familiar road down to Earth once again. There was no other choice but for them to confront Galdera and pray that they could bring him to his senses. 

It seemed clear as could be that Galdera was too far gone as soon as the gods crossed his path. Everything about him had deteriorated from the unique yet kind man that they had once grown used to. His curiosity regarding the potential of mankind had driven him over the edge, and the absorption of so much magic had acted as the final straw. Galdera was mutilated compared to what he once had been, and he barely resembled the human-like form that he had once taken on. 

The most obvious change had to be his eye. Hidden behind a curtain of fabric the color of blood, a bright white eye could be seen, its iris an unsettling crimson. Rumor had it that Galdera could strike any creature down with any affliction that he selected as soon as they dared to meet his gaze. Even death itself could be established in those who tried to stand up to the god. His power and corruption had led to him becoming a juggernaut. The god that many had admired at one point for his present of life and prosperity had fallen far from his heavenly position. He acted as the master of hell, and there was no way for any living being to ever hope of stopping him in his pursuit of conquest. 

He wanted more. That much was clear. Galdera had taken all of the power that he needed to tip over the edge and lose his sanity in the process, but he yearned for something stronger even still. Life and death were under his complete dominion, but Galdera searched for the full power that the other gods possessed as well. Even if he had to resort to murder to claim their power, he wouldn't hesitate to do anything necessary to find the victory that he sought. 

Aelfric had been the one to step forward and ask for peace. She pleaded with Galdera with everything that she had, praying for him to return to his senses and stop his mad conquest of Orsterra. He had given life to the people of the continent, and yet, he was taking it away without a scrap of empathy. It was something that Aelfric simply could not stand for, and no matter what it took, she was going to make sure that he was stopped before her people were killed. 

Galdera's answer was a silent one as far as Aelfric and the other gods were concerned, but the message was as loud as a series of screams from every person in the land. Galdera had charged through Orsterra, wielding an unholy sword as he continued to morph into something that could hardly be considered human. The gods had modeled humanity after their own appearances, but Galdera didn't fit in with such a concept in the slightest anymore. He was more monster than anything else, an unholy abomination that terrified all who crossed his path regardless of how strong their courage was. 

The massacre of Orsterra's people was more than enough for the gods to declare war. The twelve elements of heaven went to war against the god of death, the Fallen, and vowed to defeat him. Orsterra was transformed into a battlefield, something that the gods had never hoped would come to pass. The people were left to suffer under the oppressive presence of war, and no amount of struggling from humanity could fully bring an end to the gods' struggle. Wishes in the name of the twelve gods of heaven were chanted each night, but it never seemed to push them closer to success. 

For many years, the war waged. All the while, humanity continued to live and die, a constant rise and fall of motion of the powers that were under Galdera's complete influence. The Fallen began to craft life of his own once again, monsters that ravaged the land and acted as his eternally loyal army. Many tales told of the Eye of the Forbidden and the harm that it was capable of bringing to those who were unlucky enough to be caught in the crossfires of combat between the gods. No matter how much the heavenly twelve tried, they were unable to save everyone, and each loss weighed heavily on their shoulders like a thousand islands pressed again and again with each passing second. They were unable to escape the guilt of losing the people who they had vowed for so many years to defend against all manner of hardship. 

Texts from the olden times say that many began to believe that hope had died with Galdera's rise to power. Humans thought that this was the date of their extinction, that they would never be able to find happiness again after all that Galdera had done. There was not a speck of light to be found on the continent of Orsterra, and the world began to unravel at the seams. Many were sure that Galdera and his army of fierce beasts were going to win. It was only a matter of time before the gods fell and Orsterra collapsed completely. Regardless of how many prayers they made, the humans were convinced that it was not enough as the war pressed on without a moment of hesitation. 

Aelfric was the bringer of hope to the darkened continent. She pleaded with her allies to do everything they could to hold off Galdera for as long as possible. The traces of heavenly magic remaining in the land were few and far between, but there were a few key locations where it continued to thrive. Aelfric began a pilgrimage as soon as the plans had been solidified, and she visited the places where she could once again call upon the beauty of light that she had granted Orsterra prior to Galdera's collapse under his own madness. 

The gods came to realize something throughout their lengthy battle against Galdera. Regardless of how many times they struck him down, he would never be able to die. He still held power over life and death, and there was no way that they could ever keep him permanently held into the ground. The people of Orsterra would continue to suffer until there was no life left on the continent at all. Another solution would need to be found in order to save the occupants of the land. 

Alephan and Dreisang were the ones who got to work in finding a way to defeat Galdera. They did everything they could to find information about what would possibly be able to defeat a god of life and death. The rest of the gods were not immune to dying at Galdera's hands despite their godhood, and the search was lengthy and difficult due to how consistently Alephan and Dreisang both were pulled away from their research into the magical arts to help with the battles against Galdera. 

In a crucial battle in what would one day come to be known as the Flatlands, the heavenly gods were left struggling and on the verge of collapse. They weren't going to be able to hold out against Galdera for much longer, and some of them even began to make terms with the forces beyond the grave. Bifelgan prayed that the afterlife treated them kindly, and Steorra feverishly repeated her beliefs that everything would be fine as long as they had faith. Confidence in her words was beginning to sleep until not even the goddess of foresight and cosmos believed what she was saying. 

Aelfric returned in their most desperate hour, her hands aglow with white fire made of light itself. All it took was a single spark to send Galdera reeling and screaming. His retreat was immediate, and the gods realized that they had found the weakness of the Fallen. After many years of hopeless combat, they had determined the truth behind what could defeat him, and they weren't going to be letting up. There was finally an end in sight, and the people of Orsterra began to find hope once again as rumors spread far and wide that a weapon to defeat the Fallen had been uncovered after so many years. 

It was within the snowy lands that Aelfric cast down the most powerful of her flames. Galdera screamed and curled over himself as he was consumed by the very power of light itself. His powers over death and life were weakened due to Aelfric's overwhelming strength, and all he could do was writhe in agony. Aelfric regretted being forced to fight back against someone who had once been her friend, but she understood that this was what was necessary in order to save the people she defended so fiercely. 

Alephan and Dreisang appeared with an answer. On the edges of the land, a large manifestation of magic had been found. It could have been manipulated to create a seal that would keep Galdera from breaking free and harming Orsterra as a whole. All they had to do was reach the stony lands in the far southeast of the continent, and from there, it would be easy to keep Galdera from destroying everything that they had worked so hard to create. 

The journey was lengthy and draining. The people and gods alike had been sapped of their energy over the many years of war, and suffering ran rampant regardless of where they went. Each step seemed to bring new hardship, and yet, the gods pressed on. Their magic was beginning to falter, a combination of being away from the heavenly plane for too long and fighting fiercely for so many years. They lacked the strength needed to keep Galdera from lashing out once again, so Aelfric's flame was the only force preventing the dark god from slipping free and returning to his methods of conquest. 

Soon enough, the group of thirteen arrived. Twelve gods lived with camaraderie in their hearts while a thirteenth was twisted by bitterness of infinite depths. Galdera cursed and struggled despite his lack of strength as doors of steel were created from the strength of Winnehild. He continued to scream and yell all the way through, doing everything that he could to resist his impending imprisonment. This was the end, and he seemed to recognize such a fact. 

Despite his attempts, Galdera was unable to break free, and the gods forced him inside. Galdera seethed and screeched at them, emitting a noise loud enough to pierce the very heavens themselves. He vowed that he would return one day, that the gods would never be able to truly conquer him, and the last thing any of them heard was his angry swear for vengeance before the metal doors swung shut. 

The twelve gods stood in a circle and pressed their power into the doors, doing everything possible to ensure that Galdera would never be able to escape. Their power was more than enough to keep him bound to the inside of the prison. They came to call it the Gate of Finis, a boundary that would continue to hold until the end of time if that was what it took. It was far enough from civilization that they were confident no human would ever come across the gate. 

They had managed to seal Galdera away, and he would never again be able to fight back against the people of Orsterra. Even if he swore vengeance, the gate would hold, and he wouldn't be able to harm any living creatures ever again. His power over death remained despite his defeat though, and the eternal life of the Orsterran people was gone. Never again would the power return, and despite the other gods' attempts to bring back such strength, they were never able to replicate the power that Galdera had possessed prior to his corruption. 

The heavenly twelve were left exhausted under the weight of the power that they had exerted during the battle, and Aelfric was too tired to move much more than a few feet at once due to the energy that the flames of light had taken from her. The gods understood that the only way that they would ever be able to return to their full strength would be to return to the heavenly plane. Orsterra had fallen to ruin because of the actions of the gods, and they knew that their power had to be what helped it to recover. 

Using the last of their expendable magic, the gods brought the land a partial sense of salvation. Humanity would still need to put the pieces together to save everything that had fallen to ruin, but it was a start. It was the last gift that the gods granted to humanity before they returned to the Central Sea. A stairway was constructed from their power once again, and they vanished into the world overhead. 

This time though, the gods were ready and knew what they had to do. As soon as their strength had regenerated, they shut the gate between the heavenly plane and the mortal realm. Galdera had only been able to cause such issues because the boundary was left open in the first place, and it felt right for the barrier to be shut once and for all. They would never again descend to the land of mortals, and as far as the gods were concerned, this was for the best. Humanity needed to thrive on its own without the touch of divine beings. It felt right after all of the damage that had been done. 

In the days after the disappearance of the gods, temples were constructed across the land to honor the duty that the heavenly twelve had done to the people during the war against Galdera. The shrines would offer those inside, those given the chance by the gods themselves, the opportunity to speak with the heavenly figure bound to the temple in question. It allowed the gods to aid those who needed it most without risking travel on the surface of Orsterra ever again. It was a safe balance as far as the gods were concerned, and they allowed themselves to occasionally move down to the mortal plane for a brief time, manifesting only as astral projections, to speak with the subjects that they had worked so hard to defend. 

The continent of Orsterra had lost much of its heavenly power in the war against the Fallen. The remaining spell that had saved the land had done quite a bit to mitigate the damage, but Orsterra was nowhere near as holy as it once had been many years prior. It would never return to the glory that it had once been known for, and everyone understood such a truth. 

It wasn't until centuries afterwards that the Sacred Flame was discovered. It was a trace of the power that Aelfric had used to keep Galdera's full power at bay, but it was a sign of beauty. The Church of the Sacred Flame was established to ensure that the fire of light was defended, and the religion came to act as a beacon of hope among the people of Orsterra. Even in darker times in the years following the loss of the gods, the people turned to them for comfort. 

One thousand and six hundred years have passed since the gods last walked the land and Galdera was sealed away. The legend of the shrines has been lost to time, but the Church of the Sacred Flame has come to thrive. Many people praise the twelve gods in different regions of Orsterra, thanking the divine beings for all that they did to defend humanity. Conflicts have come and gone, but the land of Orsterra has seen temporary peace, and war has become nothing more than a memory of years gone by. 

In present days, the people of Orsterra thrive, knowing the truth of the sacrifice that comes with their lives. The story is one that has been passed on for generations, and no person of the continent will ever be able to forget the names of the twelve gods that brought their people salvation so many generations before. 

The gods continue to watch over the people of Orsterra from their place in the heavenly realm, and their eyes can be felt across every inch of the continent. However, no living creature, god or mortal, could have been aware of the chaos that thrived in the shadows, and it was only a matter of time before such a darkness was brought into the light of the same Sacred Flame that had saved Orsterra once before. 

Chapter Text

The morning sun broke through the snow-filled clouds that resided above Flamesgrace, coating the arctic town in a thin veil of pristine white illumination. Within the chapel of Flamesgrace, curtains were drawn open by thin, delicate hands, and Ophilia Clement stood in front of the glass with a gentle smile spreading across her lips. 

Ophilia brushed a strand of golden hair away from her face as she allowed the light to fill her soft cerulean eyes. Ophilia's white dress and matching cloak seemed to glow in the sunshine, and her sleek black gloves reflected the glimmer in a way that seemed almost ethereal. She let out a dreamy sigh. Morning had always been Ophilia's favorite time of day. There was nothing quite like greeting the sun and enjoying the scarce beams that made their way through the skies of the Frostlands to touch the ground below. 

A pair of telltale knocks came to Ophilia's door, and she turned around to face the entryway of her room. She knew who was behind the sound without even needing to ask. "Come in," Ophilia's dignified voice instructed kindly. She chose not to shut the curtains, giving a heavenly glow to her soft and sweet features. 

The newcomer was a girl with light brown hair tied into a simple ponytail. A few loose strands framed her face and brought attention to her deep and soulful eyes. A headband sat atop her head, crowning her presence with something perfectly fitting and elegant. She was wearing a similar dress to Ophilia, and her cloak and gloves matched as well. They were different at a first glance, but everything about them seemed to come together like perfectly matched pieces of a puzzle. 

"May the Sacred Flame light your path on this fine day," Lianna Clement told Ophilia as she bowed her head and clasped her hands in a prayer formation. Her eyes slipped shut, and she waited patiently for Ophilia to return the favor. 

It only took a moment for the blonde woman to follow suit, her hands pressed together firmly in front of her chest. "And may it ever shine its warmth upon you," Ophilia finished, offering the second half of the greeting that had come to be known as traditional in the town of Flamesgrace. 

For a few long seconds, the two girls were silent. Lianna was the first one to show signs of slipping, and she bit down on her lip to unsuccessfully try and halt the laughter that was already starting to rattle in her lungs. It didn't take long for Ophilia to join in, and less than a minute later, the two were openly giggling as if they had partaken in the most amazing inside joke to ever be created. 

After Ophilia had managed to calm her laughter, she shook her head and spoke. "How many times have we said those words? And yet, they seem to take on a whole new meaning now," she said to Lianna, resisting the urge to gesture back and forth between them. It had been tradition for them to exchange the words for as long as Ophilia could remember, but times had changed since the idea was first placed in motion. 

Lianna nodded, and a newfound resolve formed in her posture. "Each day is one day closer to my departure. Perhaps I'm more nervous than I thought I was..." she commented, releasing a nervous laugh despite her body putting on a show of confidence. 

Ophilia took a small step closer, one hand reaching out to grace the other woman's shoulder. She ultimately retreated before the contact could be established, and she swallowed dryly, her anxiety manifesting itself in the back of her throat. "Lianna?" she managed to whisper. 

Lianna shook her head to dismiss the thought. "You needn't worry about me. I was born to make the pilgrimage," she said a moment later, her demeanor shifting once again into a display of assurance regardless of her true opinions. Lianna turned and took a step towards the window, allowing the morning sun to spread across her pale skin. "My father did the same twenty years ago. As his daughter, I cannot let him down."

Ophilia let out a small sigh. "You really are incredible, Lianna. I don't know how you do it," she confessed, her voice overflowing with wonder. When Lianna turned to face her, one eyebrow arched in confusion, Ophilia continued. "As the archbishop's only true born daughter, everyone expects so much from you. And yet, you never fail them. Each of your sermons is more inspiring than the last. And now, the pilgrimage... So much is placed on you alone."

Lianna laughed, the sound caring and sympathetic despite its dismissive dimension. "Don't be silly. I'm not alone. I have you, don't I? And everyone at the cathedral... Why, you're the one who helped me think of a topic for that last sermon, Ophilia. You even stayed up for nights with me to draft it."

"A willing set of ears and a few pretty words, that's all I could offer you..." Ophilia murmured as she moved towards her bed. She began to busy herself with placing the covers back in their organized state, unwilling to meet Lianna's eyes. She already knew that she was in for a lecture regarding her lack of confidence, and Ophilia wasn't sure if she would be able to endure the same song and dance again. "I wish I could do something that would truly help you."

Lianna scoffed. "Oh, abandon such worries and come, my sister. Father is expecting us in the chapel," she said simply. Ophilia sighed with relief internally that she had managed to escape the lecture, though she suspected that Lianna would be returning with a vengeance soon enough. It was only a matter of time. 

Still, Ophilia took this chance for what it was and trailed after Lianna away from her bedroom and towards the chapel of the Flamesgrace cathedral. Beneath their feet, a red carpet unfurled itself, the very pinnacle of elegance and grace. The stones of the cathedral held a dark and ancient aesthetic, and yet, Ophilia couldn't have imagined a better place as her home. 

The tale of the Flamesgrace cathedral, and the religion that surrounded it, was one that Ophilia had heard a thousand times and told a thousand more. In the beginning, the thirteen gods created the land. They shaped the mountains, filled the seas, and gave life to mighty trees and myriad beasts. Then, they created humanity, who would become the masters of the land. 

Yet one god, Galdera, was too greedy to part with his creations. And so, the twelve gods of heaven were forced into a desperate struggle with the cruel Galdera, lord of the most infernal magicks. In the end, the conflict was brought to a close by Aelfric, the Flamebringer, goddess of all that is holy. Aelfric called astral fire made of light down from the skies upon Galdera, sapping his strength. Then, Aelfric sealed him away in the afterworld. Aelfric had created a divine flame to chase the shadows. This was the Sacred Flame that shone down upon Orsterra, bringing warmth and guidance to its people. 

The selfsame Sacred Flame burned at the center of a hearth found at the back of the chapel, and Ophilia found herself hypnotized by its familiar dance. She had always found the flare to be captivating, and its white-blue glow roused a smile to her face. Ophilia had always adored the ancient tales of the gods, and the Sacred Flame's origin had to be her favorite by far. Aelfric's courage was admirable even more than a millennia and a half later, and Ophilia wished that she possessed the same strength that the goddess had been known for once upon a time. 

Standing in front of the Sacred Flame was none other than Josef Clement, Ophilia's adoptive father and caretaker. His hair was the same gentle brown color as Lianna's, but his was streaked with occasional traces of gray. He wore the traditional white robes of the clergy, and the Sacred Flame's precious glow reflected upon his time-worn face. Ophilia couldn't help but smile at the sight of him. Josef's kindness was something that she doubted she would ever be able to forget, and she held it dear to her heart even years later. 

When Josef recognized that Ophilia and Lianna had arrived, he turned to face them with a warm smile of his own. "Ah, there you are, my girls," he said softly. His expression was filled to the brim with soft and tender affection that could only be reserved for a parent watching their child. 

Ophilia bowed her hand and clutched her palms together over her chest. "Your Excellency... May the Sacred Flame ever light your path," she responded, using the regular title for the archbishop despite their close connection. It had been a habit for Ophilia for as long as she could remember. Josef had long insisted that he call her by the name of 'Father', but she couldn't bring herself to do it. They shared no blood, and part of Ophilia almost believed that she wasn't worthy of such a graceful offer. Instead, she kept to using the title, pulling in her adoptive father and sister without ever giving them the chance to get close enough to show them the truth of the insecurity resting beneath the surface. 

Lianna was used to Ophilia's habits, and she took a small step towards her father. "Have you need of us here, Father?" she questioned. Her eyes were kind and curious, but concern could be seen glazing over behind the surface brightness. 

Josef's smile faltered briefly, but he corrected himself before either one of the girls could comment on it. "I wished to see you, that is all. Do carry on with your duties," he instructed. 

Ophilia kept her expression as gracious as possible, trying not to show that she was aware of the brief crack in his mask. "As you wish, Your Excellency," Ophilia responded. She glanced up to the flame crackling behind him, listening to the gentle hum of the flare. The Sacred Flame had always soothed even her darkest fears, and she felt as if every worry that existed meant nothing in comparison to the beauty waiting before her. 

Josef shook his head as he continued to address his daughters. "It is as if the two of you have become women grown in the blink of an eye," he told them softly, carefully considering every syllable before he dared to speak it. He pondered his next statement for a moment before going on. "How long has it been, Ophilia, since you came to us?"

Ophilia swallowed dryly around the lump that had appeared in her throat. "Fifteen years, Your Excellency, or near enough so," she replied. It had been a decade and a half since her arrival in Flamesgrace, and yet, her mind still strayed back to times of the distant past more than she cared to confess. Josef mentioning their initial encounter did little to help her settle her score with completed events. 

Josef's face tilted downwards to the ground. "Fifteen years... I suppose it is little wonder that you have grown so," he remarked, melancholy bitterness finding its way into his features. He still refused to meet Ophilia and Lianna's eyes. 

Ophilia took a hesitant step forward. Fifteen years had passed since she first crossed paths with Josef and Lianna, and it had been just as long since she had become part of their family and taken their shared name. Prior to that, Ophilia had been nothing more than a shadow in the grand scheme of Orsterra's design, yet another war orphan left to suffer and crumble under the weight of the world. Josef had met her parents in times long gone, back before either Lianna or Ophilia had been born, and following their passing, he had happily accepted Ophilia as part of his heart and family. "I could never thank you enough for what you and Lianna have done for me," she murmured. If not for their actions, Ophilia knew that she would not have lived to see the present day. It was a reality that she had accepted many years ago.

Josef let out a humored chuckle. "No need for such words, my child. We all follow the path the Sacred Flame illuminates for us," he told her, repeating the same words that he had each other time that Ophilia thanked him for his kindness. 

Lianna came up behind Ophilia and swung an arm around the girl's shoulders. "Come on, Phili. We're family! You, Father, and I... There's no need to be so formal about it," she chastised. "Why should you have to thank us for being with you? That's what family's for!" Her bright smile made it so easy for Ophilia to forget that she wasn't the same as they were, that she was the thumb that stuck out among the crowd of Flamesgrace.

Ophilia hadn't originated from the Frostlands, something that always seemed blatantly obvious when citizens of the town came to visit the church. She was used to the strange gazes that she received, a child of the Riverlands with pale hair and bright eyes. Her parents had lived in a small village on the border of the Riverlands and the Cliftlands. Creek was located near the splendid city of Saintsbridge, and it was in that very city that Josef crossed paths with them two decades prior. When war broke out between the Riverlands' Saintsbridge and the Cliftlands city of Quarrycrest, Creek had been decimated in the process. Ophilia, orphaned and alone, was brought back to Flamesgrace when Josef heard of her parents' passing. Quarrycrest and Saintsbridge nearly fell to ruin, and they did their best to erase that chapter of conflict from their history in the name of an uneasy peace. It was as if the war had never happened at all except to those with a long memory.

Ophilia would never be able to thank Josef and Lianna enough for taking a chance on her, for accepting her when no one else would. She was an outcast even in her own home, and despite her loyalty to the church, townsfolk still wondered why she was there at all. She could feel it in every judgmental gaze that looked her way. Ophilia had heard other clergymen giving Josef grief for his willingness to accept a foreigner into the church, and it was what had prompted her to grow so distant from them in the first place. She was a burden in the eyes of others, and Josef and Lianna had taken a step below their station to take her in fifteen years prior. Even as a grown woman, Ophilia had not truly outgrown the insecurity that she was unwanted and unneeded in the eyes of Flamesgrace and Orsterra as a whole. 

But she said none of this. Instead, Ophilia allowed a falsified smile to spread across her face and thanked Aelfric that she had become such a talented actress to keep from weighing on others more than she already did simply by drawing breath. "Of course... You're right, Lianna," Ophilia said, knowing that Lianna was right but unwilling to truly internalize her words. 

Satisfied with the response she received, Lianna took a step back and chuckled. "Besides, Father may be a great archbishop in here, but we both know he's just an old layabout at home. Isn't that right, Father?" Lianna questioned, her eyes turning sharp and teasing as she looked to Josef. 

Her father returned the laughter. "An old layabout? You wound me, Lianna!" he continued to chortle. 

Lianna sighed with forged exasperation. "I know your duties at the cathedral keep you busy, Father, but honestly! You're no help at all when it comes to keeping a household running!" Just to prove her point, Lianna stepped forward and smoothed out the collar of her father's robes upon noticing that it had been sitting off-kilter. "Would it kill you to cook a meal or dust the bookshelves from time to time?"

Josef laughed and shook his head. "Oh, my... When you put it that way, I suppose I am quite useless, after all," he muttered to himself. Lianna playfully rolled her eyes to show that she was only poking fun. 

Ophilia snickered along with them. "So even the great and beloved archbishop falls short in the discerning eyes of his daughter," she concluded. She took a small step back, knowing that this was a personal moment for father and daughter. She was not like them, and she was fully aware. 

"So it would seem, Ophilia," Josef remarked. "So it would seem." He adjusted the length of his gold-lined robes, looking up with the same kind tenderness that had come to be his trademark as archbishop. Lianna laughed before Josef went on. "Now, tell me, Lianna... Are you prepared for your journey to the Cave of Origin?"

"But of course, Father. I am ready," Lianna confirmed with eyes as determined and sharp as steel. She turned to face the Sacred Flame, prompting both Josef and Ophilia to follow suit moments afterwards. 

"In the deepest recess of that cave is where you will find the First Flame," Josef went on. "You will take the ember to the churches across the realm, where it will serve to light the sacred fires that warm and protect all the lands. This is the Kindling, the time-honored rite held every twenty years since the days of old."

Ophilia closed her eyes as she imagined the Kindling. Every twenty years since Aelfric's initial battle against the Fallen, a member of the Flamesgrace church had followed in her footsteps to perform the sacred act. Legend had it that the Sacred Flame was what kept the beast at bay and brought Orsterra safety every two decades. She had been born just as the previous Kindling came to a close, but this time, she would be able to see Lianna complete her quest in full glory.

"Your journey will not be an easy one. As soon as you step foot into the wilderness, you will be met with lawless villains and savage beasts. Many a servant of the church has made this journey throughout our history. Some... Some have never returned," Josef murmured, his voice growing soft and sentimental. He shook the thought off a moment later. "But I know you can do this, my daughter. Everyone has put their faith in you."

Lianna bowed her head. "You have my word, Father. I won't let you... I won't let anyone down. I will carry out the rite just as you did twenty years ago," she assured him. The flame reflected on her face, making her seem just as heavenly as the goddess Aelfric herself. 

Josef nodded carefully. "Very good, my child. Very--" Before Josef could finish, he was cut off by an explosive series of coughs that wracked his body. One palm pressed against his chest, ruining the fixed collar that Lianna had doted over a few minutes prior, and Josef's body hunched over to force the wheezes free. 

Lianna took a step forward and braced a hand on his shoulder. "Father?" she questioned, agitation quickly seeping into her voice. 

"Are you alright, Your Excellency?" Ophilia asked carefully, all insecurities cast aside for a brief moment as fear formed a solid rock at the core of her body. 

Josef shook his head to dismiss their concerns. "It's nothing to worry yourselves over. Just my years announcing their advance," he assured them as he moved over the final few coughs from his episode. 

Ophilia's stomach dropped into her feet despite his sincerity. She had thought that her birth parents were going to be safe as well fifteen years prior, and she would never be able to forget the tragic way that everything fell apart in the blink of an eye with a few simple slashes of steel. "Oh, you mustn't sound so gloomy, Your Excellency!" she cried out, trying to move past her own desperation that he was wrong about his steady aging and resulting downward spiral. "There is still so much we would learn from you before you call yourself archbishop emeritus!" 

"Ophilia is right, Father!" Lianna asserted confidently. Her gaze lingered on her adoptive sister for a moment longer, a smile appearing in the place of her concern. Ophilia missed the silent display of affection, too focused on their father to notice. "Like she always is. You should retire for the day and let your body recuperate. We can handle things from here." Her hand was already finding its way around her father's back to guide him in the direction of his room. 

"We will let the pontiff know that you are resting in your chambers," Ophilia assured him, giving him a pointed yet caring glance to show that she wouldn't be backing down. Lianna followed suit, leaving no room for him to object. 

Josef let out a laugh, but unlike his previous hearty chuckles, the sound seemed hollow and lacked substance. "When my two girls insist, who is this old man to deny them? I will leave the preparations for today's service to you."

Ophilia nodded firmly. "We will take care of everything, Your Excellency," she told him, continuing in her attempts to ignore the anxiety that was quickly mounting at her core.

"I'll see Father back to his chambers," Lianna began, taking her first step to guide Josef in the right direction. 

"Thank you, Lianna. I will see to our duties here," Ophilia replied firmly. She watched carefully as Lianna walked with Josef around the corner, and the pair vanished from sight soon afterwards. Once she was alone, Ophilia let out a small sigh and closed her eyes in contemplation. "I suppose I had best start preparing for the next service at once..." she whispered under her breath. 

The sound of footfall drew Ophilia's attention elsewhere, and she glanced up to see a young child moving through the center aisle of the chapel. It was a boy no older than seven ambling along with tears in his eyes. "Oh my... What is a child doing here all alone?" Ophilia questioned. She watched as the boy glanced back and forth nervously before she walked closer, careful to not move too suddenly and frighten him. "What is the matter?"

The boy was unable to hold his tears back when he saw Ophilia, and a sob broke free of his lips. "I-It's my mama! She's gone, and I can't find her anywhere!" he cried out. His sobbing grew louder as he rubbed haphazardly at his eyes. "Come back, Mama! Don't leave me here all alone!" The boy practically threw himself at Ophilia, eyes still overflowing with tears.

Ophilia pulled the boy away from her dress and crouched down so that she was on his level. She gently pressed her hands against his, allowing him to meet her eyes. "Now, now... Let's dry those tears. Why don't I help you look for your mother?" she asked gently as a personable smile festered on her face. 

It took a few moments for the boy to wipe his tears away and get out the last of his sniffles. "Can you really find her?" he questioned, eyes full of dashed hopes and fear. 

"Of course," Ophilia replied immediately. "The Sacred Flame will show us the way." She rose to her full height and took the boy's hand in her own. She gave a passing thought towards the service before ignoring the idea. Helping the boy was far more important as far as she was concerned, and when she looked down to see how anxious he still was, Ophilia knew that she had made the right decision. She would have time to work on the service later. For the time being, the boy had to be her priority. 

As Ophilia guided the child out of the church, she saw another member of the church standing against the wall and rehearsing an upcoming sermon. A set of flashcards could be found between his fingers. "The holy white fire of Aelfric protects us and leads us through the darkness. There are rumors of heretics who worship a black flame of evil. However..."

Ophilia didn't hear anything that came after that as she pushed her way through the grand doors of the church. A blast of cold wind met her face, and she heard the boy sniffle once again from beside her. She descended the steps carefully as snow continued to drift down from above, creating a resplendent aura of beauty around the pair. 

At the base of the stairs to the cathedral, a woman with blonde hair and warm clothing could be found. Distress was painted on her face, and she was moving frantically from person to person, asking a question before shifting to another target. When she turned to face Ophilia, her face melted into relief. 

"Mother!" the boy cried out as he ran towards the woman and embraced her with everything that he had. His tears were dried away almost immediately as his mother began to wipe gentle fingers across his face. 

"There you are!" the mother exclaimed. She pulled her son in close and hugged him as tightly as she could stand before pulling away and glancing in Ophilia's direction. "Sister Ophilia! How can I thank you for taking care of my son?"

"There's no need to thank me," Ophilia assured her. She tried to place the woman's face, and a moment later, she realized that the mother held features notably found in the Coastlands from her light brown hair to her freckles and sun-kissed skin. Another foreigner, just like her. "We all follow the path the Sacred Flame illuminates for us." She effortlessly repeated the words that she had heard so many times from Josef as a gracious curtsey overcame her body. 

"You are too kind, Sister Ophilia. Thank you for helping us," the mother responded as her fingers curled gently around the shoulders of her son. The boy continued to sniffle from beside her, and the mother pulled him in a bit closer. "It is no wonder the archbishop is so proud of his two daughters."

"Two... Daughters?" Ophilia echoed. After the doubts of the morning regarding her connections to Josef and Lianna, that was the last thing Ophilia had expected to hear. It both relieved her and left her feeling even sicker than she thought possible over a handful of words. 

"Surely, you must know that he is forever boasting of you and Sister Lianna both!" the mother exclaimed. Her son retreated into her skirt silently, his expression soft and shy as he watched Ophilia with admiration. 

"He... He does?" Ophilia questioned, trying speak around the mass that had formed in her throat. She was used to insistences of family from Lianna and Josef, but hearing it from someone on the outside was an entirely different experience, and it left her feeling strangely breathless. 

"But of course! Almost every time I speak to him!" the mother replied. She turned her attention back to her son, completely missing Ophilia's stunned silent expression. "Thank Sister Ophilia. We should be getting home."

"Thank you," her son said quietly as a pink formed of embarrassment crept into his cheeks. He stepped away from his mother's side to bow to Ophilia before returning to his precious position pressed at the woman's hip.

"It was my pleasure," Ophilia replied, slipping effortlessly back into her mask of performance to keep anyone from noticing just how surprised she was to hear that the archbishop referred to her as his family to outside parties. 

The mother and son nodded their thanks to Ophilia before leaving her behind at the steps of the cathedral. Even with the general bustle of people going about their morning routines, Ophilia felt as if she was the only person in the world. The lump in her throat was back since she no longer needed to put on a show of composure, and she looked down at her gloved hands. It was only after she blinked and her vision blurred that she realized there were tears in her eyes. 

Ever since she first arrived in Flamesgrace, Ophilia had feared that she would never be able to stand up to the beautiful legacy that both Josef and Lianna had created. She was an outsider, something almost unheard of in Flamesgrace due to so few people choosing to brave the elements of tempestuous cold to arrive in the city. For years, she had grown used to people whispering when they thought she wasn't listening, wondering if she would ever be able to stand up to the shadow that she had been placed in the instant that Josef decided to give her a chance. 

After a while, Ophilia had started to believe that they were right. She was an imitation of Lianna and an echo of the person that Josef would have wanted her to be. No matter how hard she tried, Ophilia believed that she would never be good enough for them. She pushed herself to perfection to cover for her own insecurity, placing a mask of grace to ensure that nobody noticed the doubts that were whispered on the darkest of her nights. Ophilia, the outsider of Creek, would never have a chance to hold a candle, scarcely even an ember, to the splendid torch of Lianna and the radiant flame of Josef. 

But for a moment, standing there in the bitter cold of Flamesgrace, Ophilia hoped to Aelfric that she might be able to try. She was going to do her best, and she had been temporarily empowered with the strength to believe that perhaps it was something she was capable of. Her fears had been buried for a brief moment, and all that mattered were the woman's words about how Josef truly did consider her to be part of his family. Ophilia treated herself as a burden, but for a few shining seconds, she was able to think that perhaps others didn't believe this the way that she had been convinced they did for so long. 

Ophilia swallowed back her tears as she turned back to the cathedral. She thought gently of how beautiful hope was as the doors of the Flamesgrace cathedral closed behind her. Even though it was cold outside, Ophilia felt nothing short of perfect warmth inside. 

Chapter Text

The inside of the cathedral reminded Ophilia that she had to get back to the sermon that she had been told to start. She shut the door behind her carefully and began to plan out the words and how she was going to arrange them in her coming speech. Her mind was a blur, enough to make the world around her feel hazy. She was so distracted by her own thought process that she didn't even notice she wasn't alone until after a voice reached her ears. 

"If I might have a moment, Sister..."

A young man with light brown hair that fell messily atop his head walked into view. His eyes were a dark brown color that shone with charisma regardless. He wore blue robes that Ophilia could only describe as being intricate and incredible. She turned to face him carefully, trying to figure out who he was. He certainly didn't dress the same way that most of the residents of Flamesgrace did, and if he was a man of the church, she would have seen him before. She would have remembered if she had seen clothing that elaborate in a place such as Flamesgrace, making the mystery behind the stranger all the more enticing to her.

Ophilia pushed her curiosity aside, and all thoughts of the sermon vanished from her mind as she took a step towards the newcomer. "Yes? Might I be of some service, my good sir?" she questioned. It seemed that her speech would have to wait until after she had settled matters with this man.

"Would you know where I might find His Excellency the Archbishop?" the man asked, his head tilting to the side gently in curiosity.

Ophilia felt her nerves stand on edge at the mention of Josef, and her concerned curiosity came back with a vengeance. "May I ask who is looking for him?" she inquired, taking her words slow and steady.

The man let out a gasp at the realization that he hadn't offered his name. "Ah! Pray forgive my lack of manners. My name is Mattias, and I'm a trader with the Leoniel Consortium," he explained.

Ophilia took a moment to comb through her memories and determine where she had heard that title before. Soon afterwards, she recognized it as a famous merchant business that spanned much of Orsterra. They were present in most corners of the land, or so Ophilia had heard, though they lacked a division in the snowy town of Flamsegrace. She chose to trust the world at large on the matter, knowing that she had more important things to focus on than asking Mattias for details about his trade. 

Before Ophilia knew it, he had continued to explain, and she pushed her outside thoughts aside as soon as she could manage to focus on what he was saying. "The archbishop has generously deigned to engage in a transaction of sorts with us."

"I see. It's an honor to meet you, sir. I am Sister Ophilia," the blonde girl replied after she had gathered her bearings. She had to confess that Mattias' clothing was notably elaborate for a trader and employee, and she would have expected to see such splendid designs on those who ran such a large business rather than simply their workers. Still, Ophilia figured that such details were unimportant, and she didn't know enough about the Leoniel Consortium to question his appearance even if she wanted to. 

Recognition bloomed across Mattias' face as he took a step towards her, and a carefully-crafted smile formed on his lips. "Oh, so you are Sister Ophilia! I've heard so much about you!" he cried out. "When the archbishop contacted me to request my services, he spoke much of his two daughters. I also heard that Sister Lianna will be the next Flamebearer. The realm and religion are both blessed to have such loyal servants as you and your sister. As a matter of fact, it is the reasoning to equip your sister for her forthcoming journey that the archbishop has summoned me here today."

As the pieces slid together, Ophilia nodded her understanding. "Is that so? We are much obliged for your support," she told Mattias, bowing her head to him carefully. 

Mattias let out a laugh as he shook his head. "Think nothing of it, good sister! It is the duty of the faithful to serve the church as the church so tirelessly serves us," he told her. Ophilia could have sworn that she saw a flicker of upset flash through his gaze, but she chose to not ask about it. Somehow, that felt like crossing a line that she felt she had no business straying anywhere close to.

"Sister Ophilia! You must come at once!"

The overwhelming parade of footfall brought Ophilia away from her thoughts on Mattias, and he suddenly might as well have been invisible. She turned to face the opposite direction, specifically positioning her gaze towards the hallway where Josef's room could be found. That was where the voice had come from as far as she was aware, and suddenly, Ophilia's stomach was a firm knot at the core of her body. She remembered how desperately Josef had wheezed and coughed just a while before, and painful images of war appeared in her mind as she immediately jumped to the worst. Screaming always reminded her of what had taken place fifteen years prior, and even in the cathedral, safe and far from burning villages and bloody swords in the Riverlands, Ophilia still remembered too much.

A cleric with black hair stumbled into view, and Ophilia recognized the young girl as being a priestess in training by the name of Camille. Ophilia took a step closer as she watched Camille lean over, breathing heavily from exertion and panic. "Whatever is the matter?" Ophilia questioned, surprised at the sound of the words leaving her lips. It didn't feel as if she was the one speaking. As far as Ophilia was concerned, her body had started to run on its own, and she was simply along for the ride. 

"Oh, Sister Ophilia, it's the archbishop... His Excellency has collapsed!" Camille cried out, the panic in her voice only becoming more evident with each passing word. 

Images of fear and war flashed through Ophilia's mind once again. She forced them down along with the bile rising in her throat. "What?! I... I will come at once!" she exclaimed, once again shocked when she heard her own voice despite her direct lack of input. 

Ophilia was already a few steps in the direction of the hallway when she remembered Mattias, and she turned around, her legs continuing to carry her towards Josef, albeit at a much more controlled pace. "Master Mattias, forgive me for abandoning you when you have journeyed so far, but..."

Mattias shook his head as his gaze became sharp with sympathy. "Do not spare a moment's thought for me, Sister--pray go to the archbishop's side at once!" he instructed.

Had Ophilia not been planning to leave already, his demand would have been enough to push her onwards. "I thank you for understanding, sir. Please excuse me!" Ophilia cried out. She turned on her heel and dashed after Camille, leaving Mattias alone in the entryway of the cathedral.

Mattias watched Ophilia and Camille disappear from view with an unreadable expression. He took a moment to ponder his next move before he walked towards the doors of the cathedral. Emotionless eyes were pushed out into the snow, and just a few moments later, Mattias was gone, nothing more than a memory to the clerics of Flamesgrace Cathedral.

Ophilia, meanwhile, slid to a stop in Josef's room. She could see Lianna and another cleric, one Ophilia remembered distantly was named Lyssa, were already present, both looking over the archbishop dutifully. His eyes were at half-mast, and all of a sudden, the patches of skin across his face seemed sunken and hollow. Ophilia felt as if she was going to be sick at the realization that there was a lot more wrong than she had originally anticipated. "Your Excellency!" Ophilia gasped as she made her way to his side with as much hasty grace as she could manage.

"Ophilia, please!" Lianna suddenly exclaimed, her voice hinging somewhere between desperate and sorrowful. She took a moment to compose herself before continuing. "Please take a moment to breathe." Ophilia knew that her sister's words were directed more at Lianna herself rather than Ophilia, but this revelation did little to lessen the knot growing larger inside of her body.

Ophilia closed her eyes and clasped her hands together. When had her palms become so damp with nervous sweat? "Forgive me, Lianna. But His Excellency..."

"What His Excellency needs most now is rest. Please try not to excite him," Lyssa told the girls, her voice a calming rock for them to ground themselves against in comparison to the hurricane swirling inside and out.

Ophilia did her best to bite back her tears. "Of course. Forgive me." Water began to condense in her eyes despite her wishes, and she put all of her remaining energy into maintaining a front of relaxation.

Josef suddenly let out a small cough and looked up to the girls, his eyes unable to focus properly. "Lianna...?" he questioned.

Lianna's attention was on him immediately, and she reached out and took his hand between her own. Ophilia hated the way that she noticed how fragile Josef's fingers seemed all of a sudden. "Yes, Father?"

Josef was stumbling over his words constantly as he attempted to force out his next thought coherently. "The pilgrimage... The Sacred Flame..."

"Do not worry yourself, Father. I will perform the rite without fail just as you taught me," Lianna assured him, but Ophilia could hear the strain of anxiety beneath the surface of Lianna's words. She bit her lip to keep from showing that she was terrified.

"That is... Good to hear..." Josef said next. Somehow, his words were becoming even more distant, and Ophilia could hear little aside from the crackling of the nearby fireplace and the slamming of her own chest. She wondered if there was anything else that would ever be able to compare to such catastrophic noise.

Josef's eyes fell shut completely, and Lianna crouched by his side, one hand moving to his shoulder as she attempted to shake him back to consciousness. "Father...? Father!"

"Worry not, Sister Lianna. He is only resting," Lyssa assured the girl, allowing one hand to come down on the brown-haired cleric's shoulder carefully. Lyssa took extra cares to not frighten Lianna, but the soon-to-be Flamebearer jolted all the same. 

Lianna rose to her feet carefully, nodding slowly as she attempted to process what she had heard. Ophilia reached out one hand towards the girl cautiously before forcing her fingers to retreat. "Lianna..." she whispered gently. 

"Sister Lianna, are you not well?" Lyssa questioned a moment later. She moved to set her hand against Lianna's shoulder once again, and the girl grew tense under her grasp.

For a long moment, Lianna said nothing. When she finally did force herself to respond, she shook her head. "I'm fine," she declared, and Ophilia felt her heart break as soon as she realized just how much the girl's voice was trembling. Lianna took a few steps towards the door. "I think I just need some fresh air." Lianna's movements afterwards were quick and purposeful, and she vanished from the room a few moments later. The door shut behind her, and Ophilia watched as the final traces of Lianna's brown ponytail disappeared around the corner.

"Lianna..." Ophilia whispered, feeling an empty sensation in her chest that threatened to swallow her whole. She hadn't realized how suffocating the room felt until Lianna mentioned going outside, and all of a sudden, Ophilia felt as if the air itself was trying to prevent her from ever daring to draw another breath. She gave a brief glance over her shoulder toward Lyssa, and the older priestess nodded in response to show that she had given her blessing to depart. Ophilia took her leave moments later, opening and closing the door at a pace so agonizingly slow that she feared her heart was about to be torn in half.

As soon as Ophilia was free of the room's confines, she let out a sigh, feeling her tears threaten to spill onto her cheeks once again. "Oh, Lianna... I know she is trying to act strong for the others in the church... But I worry for her. I should be at her side at a time like this," she murmured to herself. Ophilia allowed her legs to carry her wordlessly out of the cathedral. She already had an idea as to where Lianna was going to be, and Ophilia wasn't about to allow her closest companion to suffer alone during such dismal times.

The outside of the cathedral brought with it a blast of cold air that grounded Ophilia back in reality. She couldn't be caught up with her thoughts of the past. She had to focus on her mission at present. Everyone at the church was counting on her. More importantly, Lianna was counting on her. Josef would want her and Lianna to support one another through such dark times. Snow fell overhead, but Ophilia barely noticed it in the tidal wave of her own emotions.

Ophilia's mind was cast back to the events of that morning as she walked silently through the streets of Flamesgrace. She recalled the way that Josef had acted so strangely nostalgic when it came to the idea of Lianna growing up and going on the Kindling. The same applied to the time that had passed since Ophilia was brought to Flamesgrace to live with him and Lianna. Could he have known this was coming? No. If he had known that he was going to collapse, he would have done something about it aside from simply reminiscing on the past. Ophilia chose to believe that Josef wouldn't simply give up on himself and grow resigned to his face when forced to confront such a dismal matter. He couldn't have known about it. She was exaggerating and allowing her fears to get the best of her. Everything was going to be fine. It had to be.

As Ophilia arrived in the square of Flamesgrace, she came to her senses and remembered her mission. She silenced her dismal thoughts and concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other above all else. The sun had retreated back behind the clouds, leaving the day shadowy and dark. Ophilia refused to think about how fitting it was that the weather had changed so suddenly, instead choosing to fix her eyes on the large hill that overlooked Flamesgrace and its companion cathedral. It could hardly be called a hill, in all honesty. Its side was covered in ruts that made it look more like a sharp cliff from the angle that she was staring at it from. The other side was an easy slope to climb with enough effort, and Ophilia let out a small sigh. Her breath created a cloud of fog in front of her face.

From her place on the ground, Ophilia could see the familiar outline of Lianna standing on top of the hill. She noticed the blowing motion of Lianna's ponytail, sealing her suspicions as true. Ophilia began to walk towards the familiar path up to the top of the hill, and the snow slid out from beneath her feet. She was careful to ensure that she didn't slip along the way, her shoes finding the firmest ground she could see at a first glance.

Ophilia found herself standing beside Lianna less than two minutes later. Her voice was shakier than expected when it left her lips, and Ophilia hated how weak she sounded to herself. "Lianna... How are you feeling?" she questioned softly.

Lianna snapped out of her daze as soon as she heard the voice behind her, and she turned with grief written all over her face. "Ophilia?" The blonde cleric could see tears in Lianna's eyes, and as soon as their gazes met, Lianna's legs gave out from beneath her, and she pressed her face into her hands as sobs choked their way free of her lungs. The wintry wind stole away the sounds from the rest of the world, but Ophilia could hear her in all too much detail. 

"L-Lianna?!" Ophilia gasped. She eased herself down into the snow and curled an arm around Lianna's shoulders to make sure that the girl felt safe and comforted in her grasp. Lianna leaned against Ophilia's body, pressing her ear against Ophilia's shoulder soon afterwards. Her tears continued to flow, and all Ophilia could do was watch with hopelessness continuing to condense at her core.

"What am I to do, Ophilia?! Father... Our father is..." Lianna murmured. Before she could finish the sentence, she was cut off by another round of sobs, and she hid her face in her hands once again, almost as if she thought that this would lessen the terrible emotional pain that had come to overwhelm her so suddenly. Ophilia did her best to not make it obvious that she had noted the way that Liana said 'our father' when referring to Josef, and she forced the thought out of her mind as soon as she recognized that it was present.

"Thinking about what might happen makes me feel so scared, so angry that I... I feel like my heart might just burst!" Lianna continued to cry. She let out a gasp of a sob before forcing herself onwards. "But if I fall to pieces now, everyone will lose hope. I must be strong. And soon I must depart on the pilgrimage. The rite cannot be put off any longer--there are centuries of tradition we must obey. But... Leaving Father behind, without even knowing if I'll ever... Ever see him again..." Lianna fell silent, the thought too dreadful for her to put words to. Tears continued to streak down her face, discoloring the snow when they touched the ground below.

Ophilia wrapped her other arm around Lianna's shoulders and pulled the other girl in close. "Don't despair, Lianna. We are together in this. We will find a way," Ophilia assured her. She tried to force herself to believe the words as much as it seemed she did on the surface. Her stomach was still a tight knot that she didn't even know where to begin as far as untying it was concerned. She repeated the words of hope as many times as she could, noting them down as if they were penned in blood. She had to remember her strength and optimism for the sake of Lianna. If her sister was falling to pieces, then Ophilia had to act as her pillar. That was what Lianna, what everyone, needed, and Ophilia refused to let the church down after everything its people had done for her during her hour of desperate need fifteen years prior.

"Ophilia..." Lianna whispered, her voice cracking halfway through the word. She glanced up to her companion with something resembling bitter fear mixed with a wish for optimism. She tried to rub at her own tears, but the liquid had replaced itself only a few moments later. 

Ophilia took Lianna's hands between her own, and the two girls watched one another carefully. "I'm going to be here for you no matter what. You did so much to help me when we were children. It's the least I can do to repay the favor," Ophilia told her. She wiped at Lianna's tears with an absentminded finger before taking her sister's hands once more.

Lianna fell silent, and Ophilia closed her eyes. A curtain of gentle reminiscence closed in around them, and the city of Flamesgrace disappeared. The snow overhead seemed to still in its gentle cascade, and for but a few moments, neither Ophilia nor Lianna was in the town or atop the hill at all. The flow of time took them elsewhere, and all they could do was allow it to influence them.

~~~~~

Fifteen years prior, Ophilia and Lianna had been five years old. It was on a day similar to the present one that they first met one another. The two had been standing together in the archbishop's room, and the fireplace's gentle crackle seemed to drown out the rest of the world. Ophilia could still remember the sensation of Josef's robes between her fingers as she gripped firmly at his clothing. It was the only thing keeping her from completely falling apart under the weight of everything that had happened.

It had only been a few weeks since the downfall of Creek and the death of Ophilia's parents. She could still remember the way that she screamed and cried amidst dreadful flames as her tiny palms shook her mother's body. The wound across her chest was grievous and had claimed her life. Ophilia had been picking blood out from beneath her nails for hours as she whimpered and sobbed in what was left of Creek. Nobody was around to save her, but Ophilia prayed to the Flame for help regardless.

That was when Josef appeared. He had heard whispers of the war, and he arrived to visit his old companions only to find that they were gone. Upon visiting the home of his deceased friends, Josef found Ophilia curled up in the corner of her room, crying noisily with blood staining her skin. Josef had reached out to her carefully and introduced himself. Ophilia, after some hesitation, allowed him to grow close. She couldn't remember the details, just that she found him trustworthy. Josef told her that he would do everything in his power to defend her from the rest of the world, and she allowed herself to be taken in by his promises. Josef began to take her back to Flamesgrace, and she followed him dutifully. The whole way back, she refused to say a word.

The journey itself was little more than a blur that Ophilia could barely remember after all that she had been through, but she could still recall her first encounter with Lianna clearly. She had been terrified even after hearing countless stories of Lianna from Josef during their quest back to Flamesgrace. Josef told Ophilia that Lianna had lost her mother as well, and their family had struggled but ultimately survived. His wife had perished of illness when Lianna was a mere two years old, he said, and Lianna was terribly lonely thanks to his duties. She and Ophilia would get along perfectly, Josef claimed, and they would be able to spend as much time together as they pleased.

"Do not despair, Ophilia," Josef had said. "From today, we are your family." He wrapped a hand gently around her body, placing his hand between her shoulder blades. She was instantly comforted by the gesture and could remember it even years later. He gestured to Lianna with his other hand. "This is Lianna, my daughter. Your new sister."

Lianna had taken a step forward, but Ophilia retreated out of fear. Lianna prattled on despite her nerves. "My name's Lianna. It's nice to meet you." Lianna reached out one hand, but Ophilia hid behind Josef even more. Lianna's eyes were overcome with sadness from the rejection. "What's the matter with her?"

"Lianna, I'm afraid that Ophilia has gone through something very sad," Josef replied. "So let us see her cheered once more. Together, in the light of the Sacred Flame, we will find happiness."

Lianna nodded with a bright smile. "Yes, Father! I'll be the best sister ever, Ophilia!" she exclaimed.

Ophilia's long record of silence lasted despite Lianna's vow. She hadn't spoken since before her parents passed away, and she was almost starting to forget how to talk. Lianna had kept trying though, and in the end, it was only by Lianna's hand that Ophilia learned how to believe again.

Lianna knocked on Ophilia's door a few days after the latter arrived at the cathedral. "Hey, Phili? Don't you want to go outside?" As usual, Ophilia responded with silence, but Lianna refused to be deterred. "Hm... Oh! I know!"

Lianna surged forward with all the determination in the world and intertwined her fingers with Ophilia's, not giving the other girl a glance when she responded with shock. "There's someplace I just have to take you!" Lianna exclaimed. Ophilia tilted her head to the side in confusion, but Lianna continued to pull her along anyways. Lianna boldly led Ophilia out of the cathedral and through the town towards the snowy hill. Ophilia remembered that the town had been notably empty that day, making it seem as if she and Lianna were the only people in the world.

After the two girls arrived at the base of the hill, Lianna grinned and pointed to the top of the peak. "This way! Up here!" She dashed towards the hill, and Ophilia was left with no other choice but to trail after her with silent confusion written across her face. Back then, the journey had felt much longer due to how small their legs were, only making the sense of adventure even greater.

They were almost to the top when Lianna reclaimed Ophilia's hand. "It's just a little farther! We're nearly there!" she exclaimed. 

After a few more minutes of walking, Lianna stopped at the top of the hill. Snowflakes drifted gently all around them, and flowers native to the Frostlands bloomed beneath their feet. Both girls were careful to keep from toppling the petals upon arrival. "Here we are!" Lianna declared confidently.

Ophilia stepped near the edge of the hill, her blonde hair blowing every which way in the wind. She looked down at the cathedral with wonder reflected in her gentle blue eyes. "What is this place?" Ophilia questioned, surprised at the sound of her own voice after she had gone so long without speaking. 

"It's my favorite place in all the world!" Lianna proclaimed. "Maybe it could become your favorite place too."

Ophilia took another step forward. "It's... It's beautiful..." she whispered, her voice hoarse after her lengthy silence. 

Lianna's face had broken out into a radiant smile. "Isn't it? That's why I love it here!" she cried out. Her gaze drifted to the ground, and Lianna leaned down before looking at the flowers in detail. She picked the largest one that she could find before pressing it into Ophilia's hand. "Here, Phili! This is for you!"

Ophilia accepted the flower silently and looked down at it. She couldn't even begin to thank Lianna for how kind she had been, and words failed her when she needed them most. Before she knew it, a sob left her lips, and tears began to streak down her cheeks, stinging her skin in the frozen air. 

"Phili... Are you crying?" Lianna asked softly, her voice showing that she feared she had done something wrong. She reached out to take the flower back, almost as if she thought it would fix the problem.

Instead, Ophilia threw her arms around Lianna. At first, Lianna was too shocked to respond, but she returned the gesture after a few moments of silence. She smiled and let out a laugh, her breath tickling Ophilia's ear. "We're going to be the best of sisters, Phili! I just know it!" she cried out confidently. 

Ophilia sniffled and rubbed at her eyes with one small hand. "I... I'd like that too, Lianna..." For the first time in so long, Ophilia felt joy, and she realized that she was going to be alright. She had feared her fate was sorrow until the day that she joined her parents in the afterlife, but Lianna had shown her otherwise. She had been freed from the dark cloud of her own grief, and at long last, Ophilia had started living again.

~~~~~

It was on the same hill where Ophilia's lungs breathed with new life fifteen years prior that she sat with Lianna in present times. Lianna watched Ophilia for a long moment, clearly having been lost in the memory as well. Ophilia smiled gently in return, and Lianna reached up to her face, rubbing away her tears with the heel of her hand. 

"I'm sorry for running off like that... I will return to Father's side and stay with him as long as I can," Lianna told Ophilia. "I may be leaving to start the pilgrimage soon, but... I want to make the most of the time that we have left together... Especially considering that... It might be..."

Ophilia shook her head to keep Lianna from saying that it would be the last time she saw Josef. "Focus on right now. Pray do that, Lianna. He will rest all the easier knowing you are with him," Ophilia told her. She got to her feet and helped Lianna to rise as well.

Lianna nodded wordlessly and let out a small sigh, trying to hide how shaky she was from her earlier explosion of tears. She started down the hill soon afterwards, leaving Ophilia alone at the apex of Flamesgrace. She closed her eyes and thought back on all that had happened so quickly. Lianna was being forced to shoulder so much for the sake of the church. Her responsibilities had deprived her of so much, and all Ophilia could do was stand by her side and watch.

The Kindling was counting on Lianna. Ophilia was next to nothing to the church in comparison to Lianna, an outsider rather than the blood child of the archbishop's bloodline. Lianna's family had completed the Kindling for centuries, and it wouldn't do for such a tradition to be shattered so suddenly. Still, Ophilia didn't think that Lianna would have been able to live with herself if she was forced to go on the Kindling while her father was in such a state.

"I wish there was more I could do for you," Ophilia whispered as she sat down on the snow once again. Tears appeared in her eyes, and her own fears overwhelmed her as she began to cry silently into her black gloves.

If only I could help you.

Chapter Text

Ophilia stayed there atop the hill for a long time, her face pressed into the black fabric on her gloves. She cried until there were no tears left in her eyes, and she waited even longer for her cheeks to stop stinging from a combination of the bitterly cold air and the tears on her skin. Ophilia was shaky when she pushed herself to her feet, and she was careful to keep from crushing the gentle snow flowers beneath her. Her walk back to the bottom of the hill was slow, and Ophilia took extra care with each passing step to not slip and fall. She didn't think that she would be able to take on any other stress. She was feeling hopeless enough as it was given that she couldn't do anything to help Lianna beyond offer a shoulder to cry on. 

If only Ophilia could perform the Kindling in Lianna's place. That way, Lianna would have been able to stay at her father's side through these dark times. Lianna was clearly concerned about something happening to Josef while she was gone, and Ophilia was desperate to do anything in her power to make sure that her family was happy. She didn't think that she was deserving of their care, but she was going to try to help anyways. It was the least that she could do after all of the kindness that they had offered her in the years since her arrival at the cathedral a decade and a half prior.

Ophilia was about halfway down the hill when she stopped walking, and a gasp left her lips. What if she did perform the Kindling? It would have been an affront to the religion itself, to enter the Cave of Origin and gather the Ember of the First Flame without permission from the church, but Ophilia didn't know what else to do. She considered herself the sort of person to follow the rules most of the time, but how could she think about the traditions of the church in their full intricacy when Lianna and Josef were suffering? They had done so much for her over the years, and Ophilia couldn't stand by and watch as Lianna crumbled under her grief. Would she even be in the proper condition to perform the Kindling if she wanted to? 

Go to the Cave of Origin.

Ophilia wasn't sure of where the voice had come from, but she began to glance around in confusion. The whisper had originated from the back of her mind, but it didn't sound like any voice that Ophilia had heard before. The voice belonged to a woman, and every word seemed like the apex of strength and power. Ophilia couldn't find anyone present, and when she couldn't name a nearby figure as the culprit, she began to continue her journey down the hill. Somehow, she knew that this was the best option at her disposal. She couldn't leave Lianna to suffer when everything seemed as if it was falling apart. Who cared about sermons or church standards when her family was enduring unimaginable pain? Ophilia had to do this much for them.

By the time that Ophilia had reached the bottom of the hill, she was moving with a new sense of boldness, and each step seemed more confident than the last. She wove between the others in the Flamesgrace town square until she was back at the cathedral. As she entered the chapel itself, Ophilia glanced up at the Sacred Flame at the other end of the hall. The blue and white fire seemed to beckon for her to come closer, and she answered its pleas, her hands coming to her chest to grasp at one another with a silent sense of desperation.

Orsterra needs you. Your family needs you. Do what you must to defend them all.

Ophilia looked up once again when she heard the voice echoing in her mind a second time. Somehow, she felt as if listening to the words that were spoken was the best option for her. She gave the Sacred Flame one final long look before she began to walk as quickly as she could through the cathedral without running into the other clerics. Everything was in chaos because of Josef's sudden sickness, but Ophilia moved with a renewed sense of purpose that she refused to have stolen from her.

As she arrived at her room, Ophilia crouched down and reached under her bed, pulling free a trunk that was hiding beneath the mattress. She undid the latches on either side of the container before pushing the lid open, and Ophilia stuck her hand inside as she pulled out a staff. She had bought the weapon a few years prior after a monster managed to get through the borders of Flamesgrace and hurt the townspeople. Ophilia had hoped that she was never going to need it again, but if the Cave of Origin was truly filled with icy beasts the way that she had heard, she was left with no choice. 

As far as combat was concerned, Ophilia knew very little. She could cast a light spell if she focused her energy enough, a skill that she had developed through many hours of intense practice when she was sure that nobody was looking. Ophilia had seen enough of war to last a lifetime, but she was still wise enough to understand that she had to be able to defend herself in case it came to her doorstep. The idea was sickening to her, but Ophilia was glad that she had sharpened her skills for the sake of this moment alone. Perhaps that was what all of this was meant to culminate as. She was going to travel to the Cave of Origin, break the word of the religion, and retrieve the holy fire needed to carry out the Kindling. Even if it wasn't the right thing to do in the eyes of the church, Ophilia cared little for such restrictions as she tested the weight off the staff in her hands.

She was experienced in healing magic thanks to her work as a cleric. She had been taught the sacred power from a young age, and Ophilia couldn't imagine not having it at her disposal. She could heal the wounds of both herself and others if she concentrated her energy, and Ophilia knew that it was a skill she was going to need for her upcoming journey. She was going to have to go there alone. If she asked others for protection, they would only try to stop her, and Ophilia refused to drag any outside figures into her plan.

"Aelfric, forgive me," Ophilia whispered as she rose to her feet once again. She was going to need supplies. She could go to the local shop and stock up on healing grapes and inspiriting plums to make sure that she didn't run out of energy. If she took damage from the beasts of the Cave of Origin, the healing grapes would be needed for their innate recovery abilities. Inspiriting plums would prevent her from suffering due to magical drain in case she had to cast a lot of magic. Both would be a good idea to have, and Ophilia wasn't about to take chances when this was such an important event.

Ophilia's first destination was going to have to be elsewhere in the cathedral. She knew where the water basins were kept, and she would have to fill a flask to make sure that she didn't suffer from dehydration during her journey. Nobody would find it suspicious that she needed water, and by the time that anyone realized what she was doing, it would already be too late.

Ophilia seized a bag from the trunk before shutting the lid of the container. She pushed it under her bed soon afterwards and put her staff inside. The weapon barely fit in between the sheets of fabric, but she figured that it was good enough. She didn't want anyone to see that she was carrying a staff and ask what she was doing. Even if it was inconvenient, she knew what she had to do, and it was best to be safe rather than sorry.

The next few minutes were a hazy blur, and Ophilia could feel and hear her heart pounding a thousand times louder than usual. Each step felt like another betrayal, but she shoved the sensation down as far as she could. She knew what she had to do, and not even the church itself would be able to stop her. Lianna had been properly trained for the Kindling, but Ophilia had picked up on more than enough given all that Lianna had told her. She was going to have to travel to the three holy cathedrals across Orsterra. First, her destination would be Saintsbridge. From there, she would travel to Goldshore. Finally, Ophilia would return to Flamesgrace, and after illuminating the Sacred Flames in each location, she would complete the Kindling, and light would have successfully been brought to Orsterra and its people.

After Ophilia had filled her flask, she slipped out of the church. She knew that nobody would be asking her for a sermon given Josef's condition, so she would be able to get away with not concentrating on her daily duties. The people of the church were understanding of Ophilia's plight even if she wasn't like the rest of them as far as place of origin was concerned. She was different, but she was also connected to Josef, and that offered her at least a tiny bit of security in times when it felt like the rest of the world was falling apart. Ophilia wished that she didn't have to take advantage of this blessing, but she didn't have much of a choice in the matter. This was what she had to do. Nothing was going to stop her.

Buying healing grapes and inspiriting plums took out about a quarter of Ophilia's saved-up money, but she decided to not worry herself too much with it. Leaves were hardly an issue in the face of something so dismal and dark. She passed her currency across the counter as she tucked the fruit into her bag, careful to keep them as separated as possible for easy access. Ophilia gave her thanks to the shopkeeper before she began to move in the direction of the Cave of Origin. Her footsteps were heavy and light at the same time, and the world was little more than an afterthought as far as Ophilia was concerned.

The Cave of Origin was located just off the main area of Flamesgrace. The town square was a bustling place, but the road to the Cave of Origin was a stark contrast to the activity of the city itself. Nobody dared to travel down the street because it was said to be forbidden by the church. It went against the teachings of the Flame to enter such a holy site without permission by the religious figures that ran the cathedral. Ophilia had never heard of anyone being given permission to enter the cavern aside from Lianna, and her sister was only allowed because of the Kindling. Ophilia somehow felt as if she wasn't acting against the church quite as much as it would have seemed at a first glance, though she wasn't sure of where the sensation came from. She just wanted to make sure that her family was safe. 

A lantern on a hook stood beside the pathway, and Ophilia reached up before pulling it free. She hadn't been able to grab a lantern previously due to the suspicion it would draw to her given that it was the middle of the day, but Ophilia didn't think that anyone would miss a single lantern found in the darkest and most isolated part of town. She was going to need it if the cave was dark, and it was certainly more stable and less draining on her part than casting constant spells of light magic.

Ophilia turned over her shoulder when she stood at the head of the path, and she saw the the other people of Flamesgrace were all busy with other matters. Besides, it wasn't as if anyone would want to look towards the Cave of Origin given how dangerous it was to travel there. Ophilia had heard that the cavern was overrun with monsters all seeking to defend the First Flame, and while the rumors disconcerted her, she wasn't going to let them stop her from carrying out her duty to her family.

All it took was a single step for Ophilia to start the journey. As soon as her foot left behind the stones of Flamesgrace's road, she knew that this was meant to be. Her shoe crunched with the snow below, and Ophilia started to move forward. Snowflakes blew gently around her, and her hair was rustled along the way. With one final glance in the direction of her home, Ophilia pushed herself onward.

The path to the Cave of Origin wasn't anything out of the ordinary, Ophilia had to confess. In fact, it looked similar to the wilds that surrounded Flamesgrace. Snow fell freely from the heavens, and Ophilia could see gentle rock outcrops scattered around the area. The landscape truly was beautiful, and Ophilia had to confess that this was a place she could see herself enjoying if it was not seen as sacrilege to travel towards the Cave of Origin in the first place. The others who had entered the cave in the past had been treated as traitors, but Ophilia was oddly unconcerned with her crimes.

The Ember awaits you.

There was that voice again. Ophilia knew that she was alone, and she didn't have any ideas as to who could have been trying to talk to her. As far as she was aware, there weren't any types of magic that allowed for communication of this nature. It was strange to her, but she did her best to ignore it. There were more important things for her to concentrate on at that moment. The voice was likely merely a byproduct of her own struggles from throughout the day.

Ophilia focused on the way that the snow cascaded around her as she walked towards the Cave of Origin. She opened her bag as soon as she remembered herself, and she forced her lantern around one wrist before pulling her staff free of the container. It seemed to come to life in her grasp, sensing her magical energies. Staves were known for augmenting the magical skills of those who used them, and even though Ophilia had nothing close to affinity for physical combat, magic was certainly in her grasp. She was going to need it for her journey anyways.

Ophilia had to confess that she didn't know what she was going to do after she retrieved the Ember. She knew that the Kindling was her ultimate goal, but Ophilia didn't know if she was meant to tell her family about her actions before departing or not. Perhaps she could leave a letter behind. That way, they would know where she was, and she would avoid being caught and accused of treachery for retrieving the Ember. It had its own risks, such as if someone else found out and attempted to pursue her, but Ophilia decided to shove such thoughts out of her mind. She had a short-term goal, and that was what she was choosing to focus on for the time being.

Before she could decide on what she was going to do next, Ophilia found herself standing outside the mouth of the Cave of Origin. She could feel a chilled wind blow from the heart of the cavern, and Ophilia swallowed dryly before taking a step forward. There was no going back, but it wasn't as if she wanted to retreat after how far she had come anyways. One way or another, she was going to retrieve the Ember, and then she was going to do what she could to help her family in any way possible.

Ophilia found that she was beyond glad to have brought a lantern as soon as she stepped into the cave. The lighting in the cave was minimal and low, and there was only one true source of illumination found on the far side of the cavern beyond countless icicles. She knew that had to be the First Flame, and Ophilia focused on following the path ahead that she believed would lead her to the flare. Her steps were careful to ensure that she didn't slip on the ice, but she still struggled to keep her footing even after living in such a cold area for the past fifteen years of her life. 

Suddenly, Ophilia felt a shiver running up her spine, and she whirled around to see that a wolf was lunging straight for her. She remembered warnings of monsters in the Cave of Origin, and Ophilia raised her staff before slamming it down onto the wolf's head. She was glad to see that it was too dazed to continue attacking her, and Ophilia took a deep breath to center herself before calling upon her magic. "Sacred light, shine forth," Ophilia whispered, clinging to the words like they were a prayer before unleashing an explosion of light in the wolf's direction. It was enough to frighten the beast into retreating, and Ophilia watched as the wolf ran as far away from her as possible. 

Ophilia didn't realize that her heart was pounding an unhealthily fast drumbeat in her chest until after she allowed herself to relax. She stared down at her hands and let out a small sigh. She hadn't expected to see a creature like that in the Cave of Origin. Even though she knew there were monsters found in the area, hearing rumors was completely different from being faced with a beast that would have ripped her to shreds if she gave it the chance. Ophilia glanced down at her staff with gratitude in her heart, glad that she had decided to bring it. The weapon had just saved her life. 

Ophilia found herself walking faster than before, taking each step as quickly as she could without needing to worry about tripping or sliding on the ice. She wanted to get the Ember and get out of the cave as soon as possible, and she thought that the fewer monsters she had to fight against, the better. 

When Ophilia's shoe made contact with a particularly noisy piece of ice, she cringed, knowing already that this was going to draw her far more attention than she wanted. Her suspicions were confirmed when a bat let out a fierce shriek before diving towards her. Ophilia once again raised her staff and slammed it into the bat's wing, knocking the creature to the ground. A second light spell was all that it took to frighten the bat into retreating the same way that the wolf had, and she closed her eyes for a moment. Ophilia was starting to understand why she hadn't ever involved herself in combat before it was absolutely necessary. She was already starting to feel terribly guilty over attacking the wolf and bat even if she knew that she had no choice but to fight back. They were going to hurt her if she didn't force them to leave her alone, and Ophilia didn't think that she would be able to handle that on top of the arduous task that had already been placed before her. 

Ophilia saw something shifting out of the corner of her eye, and she looked over her shoulder to see that the shadows themselves seemed to be churning. She knew that she wouldn't be able to reach the creature through speech since no other humans dared to journey into the Cave of Origin, so she simply stared and waited for the monster to show itself. Adrenaline was suddenly her closest companion, and Ophilia doubted that it would be leaving her system anytime soon. She needed all the help she could get in order to scrape by without getting hurt. 

A wisp made of dark magic appeared soon afterwards, and Ophilia closed her eyes, summoning her magic once again. She somehow doubted that something made of pure magical energy would be susceptible to physical weapons. If she tried to strike it with her staff, chances were high that the weapon would simply pass through the gaps in the vapor-like creature. She focused on bringing light to the dark cavern, and a few moments later, a bright column of illumination exploded in front of her once again. 

The shadowy wisp seemed to halfway fall apart with Ophilia's attack, and she attempted to ground herself once again. Her magical energy was running low, and she wasn't going to be able to cast any other spells if she allowed her spiritual power to completely deplete. She sent out one final attack towards the wisp with all of the power that she could muster before releasing her breath as a heavy sigh. Her fingers moved towards the bag at her hip, and she pulled free a plum as soon as she was able to find one. She practically threw the fruit into her mouth, and she welcomed the flood of energy that entered her body. It felt as if something inside of her had suddenly slipped into place, and she was able to focus more than before. Ophilia was going to have to practice more to make sure that she didn't run out of magic so quickly, but if all went well, she would have experience after passing through the cave to keep herself from crumbling so quickly. 

Ophilia was about halfway through the cave when she allowed herself the chance to stand and lean against an icy wall found within the cavern. "I've seen monsters before, but they're nothing like the creatures in this cave," she whispered to herself. "Mayhap they protect the Flame..."

Ophilia fell silent, and she glanced around the nearby space. Another shiver ran up her spine, and she was positive that there was another monster about to launch itself out of the shadows towards her. When nothing came, Ophilia let out a sigh, but the feeling never quite went away. In fact, she was sure that it had been there ever since she first entered the Cave of Origin. Her relief at surviving previous attacks had distracted her from noticing, but it was something that had most certainly been present for a while. "Come to think of it, why do I feel like someone, or something, is watching my every move?" Ophilia questioned of herself even though she knew that she wouldn't be able to answer her own inquiries.

It was only after Ophilia had placed a healing grape in her mouth that she felt safe to push on forward. She continued to walk quickly yet carefully through the rest of the Cave of Origin, doing her best to ignore the sensation that something was constantly staring at her. There were only monsters in the cave, so it couldn't have been anything other than a beast, but what type of monster would take so much care to stare at her with every passing second? The mere idea made Ophilia feel sick to her stomach, so she did her best to not think about it. 

Ophilia could tell that she was getting close when she saw a pair of bats swooping down towards her, and she slammed her staff into the wing of the first. The other managed to get in a bite on her shoulder, and she let out a small gasp at the pain that quickly flooded her body. She unleashed another staff strike before pulling together her magic to summon something stronger than before. This time, two columns of light appeared to beat the bats as far away as possible, and Ophilia found herself gasping at her own strength. She hadn't known that she was capable of targeting multiple foes at once, but she was happy to have that power given the situation. It seemed to sap her power more than the single attack though, so she was going to have to keep that in mind from then on in case such as skill was ever needed once more. 

"So many monsters," Ophilia whispered to herself as she glanced over at her shoulder. She was happy to see that the attack hadn't pierced the fabric of her cape, and there was no blood to be found either. Still, she took another healing grape just to be on the safe side. She gripped the lantern just a little bit tighter for the sake of letting out her excess stress. It had to go somewhere, and Ophilia doubted that she would be fully free of it until after she had left the Cave of Origin behind entirely.

After a few more minutes of walking carefully through the cave, Ophilia found herself in front of something peculiar. The path that she had been treading before had been long and winding, clearly not made deliberately by any person. It was dangerous, meant to keep out anyone who didn't fall under the category of Flamebearer. 

However, there was a stark contrast between what Ophilia had grown used to and what stood in front of her. There was a large stairway with railings made of ice on either side, and something about it seemed perfect and refined in a way that Ophilia could only describe as holy. A statue of an angel nursing a flame stood on either side of the pathway, and Ophilia knew that she had arrived at the right place. 

As she climbed the stairs, she caught sight of a large, open area that gave way to a podium at the back of the cave. The entire arena was surrounded by railings that matched the stairway, and columns spiraled up to the ceiling. If that wasn't proof of outside influence, Ophilia didn't know what was. Rocks were also scattered around the area, though they were far less ceremonious than the rest of the surrounding space.

The true beauty of the area was the podium itself though. It was a wide stand that stretched sideways across the back of the open space, and a blue flame tinted with white flickered brightly atop the stand. Ophilia knew what it was before anyone could explain it to her, not that she knew of who she would ask even if she did need verbal answers. She was spellbound as she walked closer, taking in the full splendor of the one and only First Flame.

Ophilia had barely arrived at the arena's front end when she stopped. The feeling of being watched only intensified, and every part of her body screamed to alert her that she was far from being alone. It was more than the monsters just as she had suspected before. Something much larger and much more terrifying was waiting in the wings, and it was about to lunge towards her at a moment's notice. 

A voice echoed in Ophilia's head, and she held her staff and lantern tighter. If her knuckles were visible, she was sure that they would have been white from tension despite the cold of the air around her. Ophilia's jaw dropped, and she allowed the whisper of the divine to press itself into her mind as a cloud of fog appeared in front of her lips.

Of thee who does treaden in these halls, I aske. Art thou fit to lighten the flames and showen the path to all of humanity?

Ophilia glanced around, her lips pressed tightly together all of a sudden. "This voice..." she whispered. It was different from the feminine one that she had heard before. The words were deep and rumbling, and something deep inside Ophilia told her that the voice belonged to something that could scarcely be considered human. The ground began to tremble as the words continued to ring in her head.

I am the Guardian of the First Flame. If thou wouldst callen thyself the Flamebearer... Thou must prove thyself worthy!

The ground began to shake once again, and the rocks resting across the arena began to shift. Before Ophilia knew what was happening, the stones were moving towards one another, and they began to construct something that towered high above her. The rocks were a deep gray color, a hue rarely found in the Frostlands, and that somehow made the beast even more terrifying to her. Her jaw dropped as her eyes went wide.

As soon as the rocks had fully come together, blue light began to manifest at the heart of the creature, creating veins of illumination that pulsed through the rocks in a rhythmic fashion. One arm was fashioned as a large shield while another grasped tightly to a stone sword. The Guardian of the First Flame was heavily hunched over, and its body was far from being normal by any means. Its arms were long and hung low while its legs were thin and barely seemed to be able to hold up its torso. The center of its body was small, but it quickly grew larger higher up on its torso. It had no face, but Ophilia knew that this was the being that had been watching her throughout her journey into the Cave of Origin. 

Ophilia carefully set her lantern down on the top stair leading to the arena and took another step forward. The Guardian of the First Flame was watching her with intent curiosity despite its lack of eyes, and Ophilia returned the favor. If this was what it took to help Lianna and Josef, then she would do what she had to in order to follow through. She raised her staff in preparation for the battle ahead and launched herself forward into the battle ahead. 

If this is what I must do to become the Flamebearer, then so be it!

Chapter Text

Ophilia's first step against the Guardian of the First Flame was to hit it with her staff with as much strength as she could muster. She could tell that it didn't do all that much to help her cause though, and the Guardian barely seemed to notice that she had done anything at all. A few tiny pebbles came off from the spot where she made contact, but that was the only cue that she had done anything of note. This was going to be much more difficult than fighting the wolves and bats throughout the rest of the cave, but Ophilia was up for the challenge. She knew that she was going to have to find a way to succeed if she was to take up the Ember and save Lianna from her own responsibility. 

The Guardian responded by slashing its long arm, the one that didn't appear as a shield, towards Ophilia. She threw up her arms to block as much of the attack as she could, but the strike still smarted more than she would have liked. She hissed in pain but recognized that she was going to be able to press on for a little while longer before she needed to take a chance to heal with a grape. She followed up with another strike with her staff, smiling to herself when she saw another flurry of pebbles fly free of the Guardian's body. As far as she could tell, she would defeat the Guardian of the First Flame after its body had completely crumbled under the result of her actions. It was a being made of rocks, and Ophilia was confident that forcing the remaining stones away from its core would end the battle and mark her as worthy to take up the Ember and continue her journey. 

Ophilia was ready for another physical attack, but she was surprised when the Guardian didn't lash out with its arm. Instead, it pointed towards her, and the air around Ophilia began to buzz with something that almost felt alive. She didn't realize that the Guardian was summoning magic until it was too late, and she felt the full force of an attack of Fire magic. The attack didn't hurt as much as she was anticipating though, and Ophilia recognized that her affinity for magic had likely defended her from the impending attack. She was silently thankful that she had decided to take up the arcane arts rather than physical combat since it appeared to have saved her skin. 

Ophilia was quick when she struck the Guardian's body next, and with a few quick blows from her staff, she was able to leave her foe dizzy and stumbling. Ophilia gasped to herself and smiled silently. This was her chance to attack with everything she had, and she wasn't about to allow it to pass her by. Ophilia pressed her hands together and called upon the magic that stirred just beneath the surface before focusing on the light thriving inside of her body. A few moments later, a pillar of light erupted in front of her, and Ophilia smiled at the sight of the Guardian's pebbles once again beginning to disperse. She had done more than she thought, it seemed, not that she was complaining. Ophilia allowed herself a moment of pride, though it didn't last long.

The Guardian came back to its senses while she was celebrating her brief triumph, and it hit her roughly with its blade-like arm. Ophilia could see blood starting to flow down the side of her face, and she realized that this was the time for her to focus on recovery. She dug a healing grape out of her bag and shoved it into her mouth before chewing and swallowing as quickly as possible. The Guardian took this brief distraction as a chance to attack, slicing its blade towards her. Ophilia jumped backwards just in time to keep from being hit before rushing forward. 

Ophilia desperately slammed her staff into the Guardian with as much force as she could muster, repeating her earlier motions. If she could leave the Guardian, which appeared to be susceptible to her staff attacks, dizzy, then she would be able to follow up with her more powerful light magic strikes. Ophilia decided that this plan was as good as any, and she focused on hitting the Guardian with her staff before it realized what was happening. 

As soon as the Guardian's defenses were down, Ophilia took a grounding breath before forcing the buzz of magic out through her fingertips. She was getting better at it as far as she could tell, and the power seemed to flow naturally to her in a way that she could have never anticipated. She watched as a significant chunk of rock fell off the Guardian at its shoulder, leaving the blue veins of its shield exposed to the cold air of the Cave of Origin. It was a weakness that Ophilia would be able to exploit, and she fully intended to take advantage of it. 

Before she could do so though, the Guardian closed its eyes and began to concentrate. A dark wisp much like the one that Ophilia had encountered before manifested itself, and Ophilia frowned to herself. Something about the wisp felt ominous to her somehow, and she could tell that the flow of the battle was going to change if she didn't get rid of the magical being as quickly as possible. She called upon her magic and sent as much force as she could towards the wisp, and she was surprised to learn that it didn't do anything to fight back or respond to her attack. Ophilia counted this among her blessings rather than questioning what the wisp was up to, and she jumped backwards to keep from being hit by a downward slash from the Guardian. 

As soon as the dark wisp began to shift, a sign that Ophilia had lowered its defenses by striking its weaknesses so many times, Ophilia looked up to the Guardian and began to hit it as many times as she could. The Guardian was left dazed by the time that Ophilia recovered from her bout of desperation. She could tell that her magic was growing scarce, but Ophilia still called upon the final traces that she had access to before expelling them outwards in a pair of light columns that struck both the dark wisp and Guardian with a resounding echo. 

Ophilia almost expected retaliation for her attacks, but she was surprised to see the dark wisp had disappeared in the chaos. She let out a sigh before glancing up to the Guardian. Its shield was on the verge of crumbling, and it had grown significantly shorter thanks to the rocks on its legs starting to fall apart. Ophilia knew that she was getting closer, and she closed her eyes to brace for another fiery attack when the Guardian pulled back in preparation. After the strike hit, she pulled out an inspiriting plum and popped it between her teeth. As soon as it entered her body, the plum replenished her magical energy, and Ophilia could feel the newfound strength flowing as easily through her body as blood or, in that moment, adrenaline. She sighed at the bliss and thanked herself for remembering to buy so many plums. The last thing she wanted was to be left with minimal magic against the Guardian of the First Flame. 

Her foe seemed to realize that it wasn't going to be lasting much longer, and it began to glow with purple light. The violet coloring started inside of the Guardian, whirling around its blue veins before spreading outwards. Ophilia could tell that this was a sign of something catastrophic, and she used her staff as much as she could to lower its defenses. The Guardian was left dazed before it had the chance to unleash its full strength, and Ophilia sighed in relief. She was starting to get tired, a bone-deep type of exhaustion that no amount of healing grapes would ever be able to fix. The day, with all of its highs and lows, had begun to wear on her, it seemed. 

"I hope this works," Ophilia whispered before gripping tightly at her staff with one hand and shoving her fingers outwards with the other. The light that exploded outwards was so bright that it temporarily stole Ophilia's vision, but at the heart of the shining beacon, she could see the Guardian of the First Flame starting to crumble. Starting from the bottom, the rocks that made up its body began to fall away, leaving behind nothing more than the memory of combat. 

Ophilia stood perfect still for a few long moments, unsure of if she should truly believe that she had just accomplished something so incredible. She watched the rocks that had once been the Guardian for a long moment, waiting for any indications that would tell her she was still in danger. Ophilia didn't realize how loud the beating of her own heart was until after it was all she heard alongside the cold breeze and her own heavy breathing. 

Ophilia let out a sigh and allowed her defenses to slip away. She dropped her staff and began to walk towards the First Flame as she gave the stones one final glance for the sake of her own sense of security. Something deep down told her that she was safe, but as far as she was concerned, she could never be too careful. 

"This... This is the First Flame of Aelfric, the fire she brought down from the heavens..." Ophilia whispered. All of her previous concerns were forgotten as she stared spellbound at the flickering flame, and her body seemed to move on its own. "It's so beautiful... As brilliant as the stars burning in the night sky..."

Ophilia. Thou hast been judged to worthy to bearen the Sacred Flame. Reachen out thine hand, and taken it in Aelfric's Lanthorn. 

Ophilia glanced off to the side of the burning flame and saw that there was something resembling a lantern resting on the pedestal. It was time-worn and made of black metal. As soon as Ophilia touched the handle, she felt as if every part of her body was standing to attention, understanding that this was one of the most important moments of her life. She was breathless, and nothing could have ever hoped to ground her in that moment of perfection. 

A piece of the blue flame nearby seemed to break away from the main body of dancing light, and it entered the lantern carefully. Ophilia knew that this had to be the Ember, and she allowed herself to blow out the light of her own lantern before looking back to the Lanthorn. Somehow, she didn't think that she would be needing the lantern again throughout the rest of her journey. 

"The Lanthorn... This must be it," Ophilia whispered, though she didn't seem to realize that she was the one to have spoken until after the words reached her ears. She continued to run the lantern between her fingers, and even though she was wearing gloves, the power of the Lanthorn seemed to transcend everything that she had ever known. Her injuries seemed to heal themselves, and Ophilia was left to wonder if perhaps it was Aelfric herself that was granting her such a blessing.

"This is the sacred lantern used in the Kindling. Aelfric's Lanthorn..." Ophilia continued, still taking an oddly long time to register the sound of her own voice and the strange way it filled her ears. She let out a sigh and shook her head, tightening her grip on the handle. "Lianna... Please forgive me. I must hasten back."

Ophilia's journey out of the Cave of Origin passed by in a hazy blur, and all she seemed to know for those few precious moments was the Lanthorn in her hand and the Ember that burned at the heart of the black steel. She didn't suffer any other monster attacks after retrieving the Lanthorn, almost as if the occupants of the Cave of Origin had come to accept her as their mistress. She didn't see any traces of the beasts she had encountered before, and Ophilia couldn't help but wonder if this was part of the power that the Lanthorn had to offer her.

When she arrived back at the Flamesgrace cathedral, Ophilia was careful to sneak around to ensure that nobody saw her. The Lanthorn had gained glass walls to protect the Ember when Ophilia wasn't watching, and she used this to her advantage by hiding the Lanthorn beneath her cape. She had returned her borrowed lantern to its original position outside the path to the Cave of Origin, so the Lanthorn was the only thing that she needed to concern herself with. 

Ophilia set down her bag and staff before hesitating and looking to the Lanthorn. She didn't think that she would be able to leave without saying goodbye to Lianna and Josef. She had to go and see them, even if it was just briefly. She would never be able to forgive herself if she departed without so much as a parting embrace. 

Ophilia continued to hide the Lanthorn under her cape, pulling the fabric in tight around her shoulders so that nobody would notice anything was off. She carefully pushed the door to Josef's room open with one gloved hand, peering inside cautiously before her gaze fell upon Lianna and Josef. Lianna was sitting beside Josef's bedside as expected, looking down at her hands with an expression that could only be described as lifeless. Lianna looked up when she heard the door creak to mark Ophilia's arrival, and the blonde cleric was left to wonder if Lianna had done anything but worry in the past few hours.

"Lianna... How is His Excellency?" Ophilia questioned slowly, careful to stay quiet to keep from disturbing her adoptive father. She shut the door cautiously, doing her best to keep from immediately spilling the truth of her ambitions to Lianna without anything resembling tact.

"He is sleeping still, but he seems to be resting more easily now," Lianna replied. Her expression became painted with worry as she rose to her feet and walked towards Ophilia shakily. "Where have you been, Ophilia? Everyone was worried about you."

Ophilia hesitated before looking down to the ground, refusing to meet Lianna's gaze. "Lianna... There is something I must tell you..." The guilt that came to hit Ophilia was almost enough to make her nauseous, and she realized that her earlier lack of repentance was only building up for everything to crash down the instant that she realized what she had done. What if Lianna was upset with her for going behind her back? Would Ophilia even be eligible to go on the Kindling after betraying the church's trust? Was this the end of her time in Flamesgrace? Her actions were sacrilege, and while she had known this previously, recognizing it in the heat of that moment as she struggled under Lianna's gaze was different from previously loosely acknowledging the truth.

A sudden haggard cough cut off Ophilia, and she let out a gasp as she looked over to Josef. "My... My daughters..." he whispered carefully. He was still stretched out in bed, but he seemed to have gained the resolve to try and sit up properly. 

Ophilia and Lianna both dashed to his size, and Lianna wrapped her fingers in his as quickly as she could. "Father!" she cried out. 

"Your Excellency!" Ophilia exclaimed. She hid the Lanthorn even deeper in her cape, the guilt hitting her in newfound waves. She knew that she had made the right choice, but doubt was starting to seep in, and it refused to release her from its grasp. 

"Forgive me, my girls... For making you worry so..." Josef murmured as he slowly locked his eyes on both Lianna and Ophilia. Lianna helped him to sit up, and he gave her a small nod of thanks. His expression softened with sympathy when he noticed how upset she was. "Do not look at me with such sad eyes, Lianna... I will be well again before--" He was cut off by another series of coughs, and it took an uncomfortably long time for him to calm himself once again. Lianna whimpered his name once again before Josef shook his head, a tired yet dismissive gesture that replicated his regular grace but still didn't quite reach it. "I will be well again before long... But now is not the time for such worries. The rite..."

Lianna staggered backwards with a dry exhale that fully portrayed her grief, and Ophilia felt a twist of guilt and terror pass through her core. Lianna didn't want to leave, another sign that Ophilia had made the right decision. Adrenaline began to course through Ophilia's veins anew, a sign of anxiety that she knew she had no power to vanish. She bit down on her lip before swallowing back the rest of her nerves. 

"Your Excellency, I must speak with you," Ophilia said carefully, thinking out each word before it could leave her lips. She could hear nothing save for the crackling of flames and the pounding of her heart in her ears, and she wished that the latter would calm its screaming for just a moment so that she could process her thoughts in full. 

Josef seemed to be able to sense the severity of the matter, and he arched an eyebrow in Ophilia's direction. "What is it, Ophilia?" he asked softly. 

Ophilia let out one final breath, preparing herself for the chaos that was bound to come next. She pushed the Lanthorn out from beneath her cape, trying to ignore the dry taste of her mouth. Why did it feel as if speaking had suddenly become impossible? "I would go on the pilgrimage and complete the Kindling in Lianna's stead," she declared, trying to hide the way her voice wavered. 

Lianna let out a gasp, and her hands flew to her mouth. "That's... Aelfric's Lanthorn?! Ophilia, you...!" She didn't seem to be insulted in the slightest, and fear was the only emotion that flashed through her brown eyes. When Ophilia looked closer, she could see that her sister's hands had begun to shake with anxiety.

Ophilia struggled to maintain eye contact with Lianna as she felt the full weight of her actions all over again. Lianna's staring wasn't helping her to escape her guilt even though she knew that this choice had been for the best. Ophilia's heart was suddenly heavy, like an impossible weight was attempting to suffocate her with each passing moment. 

"Ophilia..." Josef whispered next, his shock playing out upon his face in the blink of an eye. Somehow, it felt as if it was taking place in slow motion as well, and the combination made Ophilia feel as if she was suspended in time with no hope to escape it. She was breathless, and all she could do was stare at him, waiting for the inevitability of either punishment or reassurance.

"You are aware that it is a grave sin for one to enter the Cave of Origin without the church's permission," Josef began. Even so, the reflection in his eyes wasn't one of disappointment in the slightest. Instead, Ophilia could see something that seemed a bit too much like recognition. Josef couldn't have known that this was going to happen, and yet, there he was, proud, afraid, surprised, and familiar with the situation all at the same time, an endless blend that left Ophilia feeling sick to her stomach. 

"I am, Your Excellency," Ophilia finally managed to say, finding that the words came with more difficulty than they had any right to. At the very least, she had managed to find the power to speak once again. That had to count for something, right?

"Ophilia... But... But why...?" Lianna choked out, and Ophilia could have sworn that she saw tears welling up in her companion's eyes. 

"Lianna, leave us now. I would speak with Ophilia alone," Josef suddenly asserted, sounding far more confident and powerful than he had previously. His tone offered no room for objection. 

And yet, Lianna still attempted to protest. "But Father!" she exclaimed, fear appearing in renewed quantities in her eyes. Ophilia looked away from them both, unsure of if she would be able to stand consistent eye contact since they were now aware of what she had done. 

"Worry not. I will not be punishing your sister, Lianna, but there are matters we must discuss," Josef explained. Ophilia felt a sudden wave of relief crash down on her, leaving her to gasp silently. 

Lianna was just as surprised, but she corrected herself a moment later. She looked down to her feet. "I understand... Just... Don't be too hard on her, okay?" she murmured, seeming to struggle to phrase the request. Josef nodded his agreement, and Lianna gave both her father and Ophilia a longing glance before slowly making her way to the door. The tap of the door shutting echoed in Ophilia's mind like a siren.

Josef turned his attention to Ophilia in full once Lianna was gone. "At least it would seem you came through your ill-advised journey in one piece," he began simply, the words holding enough weight that they threatened to crush Ophilia without hesitation. 

Ophilia nodded. "I did, Your Excellency," she whispered. She forced herself to meet his eyes despite the anxiety that was quickly mounting and trying to drag her down into the depths of the snow of Flamesgrace.

"And I can assume you set out with no preparation to speak of. For all your quiet dignity..." Josef said quietly. He shook his head, and Ophilia couldn't tell if he was disappointed or proud somehow. The twist in her stomach told her that it was the former.

"I am sorry, Your Excellency," Ophilia told him, hating how small and insignificant she felt in that moment. The light pull of the Lanthorn suddenly felt like lead between her fingers, the primary chain that would damn her to hell for rebelling against the church and its first and most well-known rule. 

"Oh, Ophilia... I only hope that this kindness of yours will not be your ruin," Josef continued. Ophilia perked up at his words, her confused expression prompting him to continue. "You journeyed to the Cave of Origin so that Lianna might stay here with me, did you not?" Ophilia responded with silence, and that was the only answer Josef needed. "I will inform the pontiff that there has been a change in plans and that you will perform the Kindling in Lianna's stead. Speak with your sister and learn what she has these many months. Your instruction will be abbreviated, but I know you are up to the task."

Ophilia's breath was stolen from her lungs once again. "Your Excellency...!" she whispered. The Ember began to shine a little bit brighter from its place in the Lanthorn, and Ophilia forced herself to not look at it in her moment of endless shock. 

"Your kindness brings warmth and light to all around you, Ophilia, just as does the Sacred Flame," Josef went on. He reached out and took her hand in his own. 

Ophilia sniffled, not realizing that she had started to cry until after the sound reached her ears. "Your Excellency, I..." she began, unsure of where she was going to be headed with the sentence next but doing her best to try anyways.

"Ophilia, when I first took you in, I had a dream," Josef said suddenly, cutting off any thoughts from Ophilia before they could be spoken. 

"A dream?" Ophilia echoed uncertainly, shocked at the sudden change of subject. 

Josef nodded. "A dream of you, bearing the Sacred Flame into the world. Looking back now, I realize it was an omen of what was to come," he explained. Suddenly, Ophilia understood his brief recognition, but the mention of Josef foreseeing this event somehow made her even more nervous than before. "Lianna is a fine daughter, my pride and joy. She has served as a daughter of the church far better than I had any right to expect. But I know that it has not come easily to her. She has given up much of her true self to be who she must be for the church." He paused, and the silence became infinitely more suffocating as sorrow manifested on his features. "I have not yet told Lianna, but I fear that I am not much longer for this world."

Ophilia fell to her knees at his side, desperate to be closer to him. She set the Lanthorn down unceremoniously beside her. "But, Your Excellency! The healers said--"

"I trust that I know my body better than any other," Josef cut in. Ophilia couldn't help the whisper of his name that tumbled from her lips before Josef continued. "Oh, Ophilia... I am so proud of you and Lianna both. Promise me that you will love one another forever..." 

The resignation in his eyes was too much for Ophilia to bear, and tears continued to streak down her cheeks in rivers. She didn't even bother trying to deny them, understanding that it wouldn't have much of a point anyways. "Your Excellency... I..." Before Ophilia could stop herself, she had cried out the one word that she had always thought herself undeserving of saying, and her grasp on Josef's hand grew tighter. "Father, please! Please don't leave us!"

For a brief flash of a moment, Ophilia felt as if she was back in Creek fifteen years before, a scared young girl who had seen the brutality that humanity was capable of. She remembered the flash of steel and the way that blades had so easily pierced through flesh and bone, leaving behind only blood that haunted Ophilia's nightmares on her worst of days. She could never forget the sight of crimson or the stench of death. Josef had been her savior from the torture of grief, and yet, there he was saying that he was going to leave her as well. It was too much for her to bear, and she could feel the fear ripping her apart at the seams despite her attempts to remain composed.

Josef simply squeezed her hand, his eyes flooding with joy as she called him her father. Tears began to fall down his cheeks as well, and Ophilia realized all too late that she hadn't only been depriving herself of the sensation of family, but him as well. All she could do was sit on the floor beside his bed and cry until there was nothing left for her to give. 

~~~~~

Sleep came slowly to Ophilia, and she tossed and turned the whole night through. By the time she had risen to be sent out for the Kindling, she felt hollow and empty, Josef's words still ringing in her ears. She had to make sure that Lianna didn't find out from her though. She could hide it for a brief time, couldn't she?

After the preparations were finished, Ophilia walked down the stairs outside the cathedral with Lianna. No snow fell from the skies, and that only made the morning more eerie than it already was. 

"And with that, I should be off," Ophilia declared as she turned to Lianna. They had done one final check of her supplies before leaving, and there was nothing left for her to do before the journey began. "Do take care."

"Take care yourself... I think Father was looking a little better today, don't you think?" Lianna posed with a gentle yet somber smile. "We nearly had to tie him to his bed, he so wished to be here too."

Ophilia bit back her words and her tears as she nodded. "It's good to know he's acting more like himself again," she said simply.

Ophilia was almost relieved when Lianna took a few steps away in contemplation. "Ophilia... I owe you an apology," she suddenly confessed. 

Ophilia's voice shook when she spoke. "Whatever for, Lianna?"

"When I first heard that you would go on the pilgrimage in my stead... To tell you the truth, I was relieved. The thought that I could stay here with Father instead of worrying about the Kindling..." Lianna trailed off as she looked back to her sister with tears in her eyes. "I knew you would be putting yourself in great danger, and yet... I was so happy. Can you forgive me, Ophilia?"

Ophilia shook her head as she approached Lianna and locked their hands together. "Oh, please. I'm the one who should apologize. I have no right to be here, and yet... Here I am."

"I know that you only wanted to help me," Lianna cut in. She wrapped her arms around Ophilia's body. "And knowing that you will perform the rite in my stead makes me happier than anything."

Ophilia hesitated before returning the embrace. "Thank you, Lianna." They held the hug for a moment before Ophilia stepped back. "And so, my journey begins. To Saintsbridge, Goldshore, and finally, back to Flamesgrace. Light the flames in each town. Perform the Kindling as our forebears have. I'll be gone for a while, but if ever you or Father need me, pray send for me at once."

Lianna nodded. "Thank you, Ophilia. Really do take care of yourself, okay?" she asked

Ophilia nodded in return with a fond smile. "Let us see how Saintsbridge treats me," she said. She bowed her head to Lianna. "Till we meet again, dear sister. May the Sacred Flame light your path."

"And may it ever shine its warmth upon you," Lianna returned. She shared one final glance with Ophilia before the latter began to walk down the stairs, the Ember and Lanthorn in her grasp shining as a beacon among the darkened morning light. 

As Ophilia traveled through Flamesgrace, she let out a tense sigh. If she was fast enough with the Kindling, she would be able to return in time to see Josef one last time. That was her greatest hope, at the very least. She had bid him farewell the day before just in case, but Ophilia was choosing to cling to her hope to the bitter end. Perhaps he would recover despite his concerns that he was on the verge of passing away. Ophilia would pray daily to Aelfric for such if it would potentially bring him safety. 

I believe in you.

There it was again. The woman's voice had been absent ever since Ophilia first set out to find the Ember, but Ophilia couldn't help feeling that something about it was simply right, as if the pieces of her life were finally slipping back into place. She didn't know how to describe it, but the world seemed to fall into striking clarity when the words echoed in her mind. 

Ophilia allowed the simple phrase of encouragement to push her forward, and she came to a stop outside the border of Flamesgrace. She gave one final glance over her shoulder at the town, rubbing at her eyes with one hand. Her next destination was Saintsbridge, though in the short-term, she would be stopping by Atlasdam to retrieve any extra supplies as well as to eat. She would reach Saintsbridge soon enough if she was quick, and from there, her target would be Goldshore. She was determined to find her way back home soon enough.

Ophilia vanished into the blusters of snow outside of Flamesgrace, beginning the journey that should have never been hers. The Ember began to shine once again, acting as a beacon that staved off even the darkest of shadows. She would be able to return to her family soon enough. All she had to do was press on for a while longer. Countless others had performed this rite, and it fell to her next.

Child of Aelfric... May you succeed in your journey.

Chapter Text

Within the stony halls of the Atlasdam Palace, resplendent red curtains shone brightly with the morning sunshine. The city outside was buzzing with activity, but within a room on the second floor, class was being held. Two intent pupils kept their eyes locked on their professor from his place atop a pedestal at the head of the room. Sunlight highlighted his features, and Cyrus Albright smiled brightly with enthusiasm that no person could ever hope to rival. 

Cyrus' hair was a dark color, and it was tied into a ponytail at the base of his neck. It never seemed to settle properly despite the care he put into the rest of his appearance. A dark cape was draped over his shoulders over a white shirt with puffed sleeves. His shirt was a deep hue of gray, and elaborate golden swirls adorned the surface of the fabric. He wore black trousers that tucked seamlessly into his knee-high boots. Cyrus was the picture of elegance, and the smile on his face only made him seem more perfect than one would have ever anticipated. 

"And so it was that our Atlasdam was founded two centuries ago," Cyrus concluded as he reached the end of a speech regarding the creation of the town that he had known and loved his whole life. The history of Atlasdam had been the primary subject of his lecture for the day, and he had been looking forward to it from the instant he woke up that morning. If there was one thing that Cyrus loved above all else, it was history, and teaching such tales of the past to others brought joy to his heart like nothing else in existence. "Indeed, our fair city-state is among the longest standing on the continent of Orsterra. But there was another city-state with a history as long and proud as our own that came to a tragic ruin only eight short years ago."

Cyrus finished speaking and started to walk across the podium. A map was pressed against the wall behind him, and it detailed all of the smaller tidbits about Orsterra. He stepped aside and offered full display of the current view of the continent as he held up one hand to the design. "Now, who can tell me its name?" Cyrus questioned. He looked back and forth between his two students before settling his gaze on the one standing in front of him. "How about you, Therese?"

The young woman started upon being addressed, and pink flooded her cheeks as she attempted to regain her composure. Her hair was a pale color that seemed to border on being a perfect lavender, and it shone in the sunshine like the moon itself had been plucked from the sky and then given human form through Therese. She wore purple clothing to match her hair, and Therese's eyes were a crisp blue color that faltered with anxiety when she realized that Cyrus was inquiring for an answer. "I... Um... I think it was..." she began, her voice wavering with uncertainty. 

Cyrus shook his head. "Now, now. No need to get all flustered," he assured her. His smile was careful, a sign that he wasn't upset with her at all for her lack of knowledge. "There's no shame in not knowing an answer so long as you have a desire to learn. The answer is in your textbook. Go on, now. Look it up."

Cyrus remained patient as Therese began to flick through the pages of her book. She was desperate to be fast enough to keep the attention off her for a moment, though Therese seemed to be more bothered by the other student in the room than Cyrus himself. She flashed a glance out of the corner of her eye towards her peer before biting her lip and turning through a few more pages. "Yes, Professor..." Therese stammered. "Let's see... I believe it was... Hornburg?"

Cyrus' smile returned in full swing once again. "That is correct!" he chimed, not seeming to notice the way that Therese beamed upon noticing that she had earned his approval. "Hornburg was ruled over by a royal family said to be descended from priests of an ancient and long-forgotten religion. On the other hand, our fair Atlasdam was founded by one of the original claims that inhabited the Flatlands." 

Cyrus stopped speaking briefly once again as he paced across the podium to the other end of the area. "Who can tell me how many clans lived in the Flatlands at the time?" Cyrus questioned. His eyes found the other student in his classroom next. "Your Highness?"

The other girl in the room, Mary, was the princess of Atlasdam and the next in line for the throne. If Therese was the moon, Mary was the sun, bold, bright, and unyielding. Her hair was golden in color, and it fell down to her lower back in gentle waves that defined her as the pinnacle of elegance. Her eyes were bright green emeralds that shone vibrantly. Her clothing was white and lined with gold, a sign of her royal heritage and the money that lived in her family thanks to the blood that coursed through her veins. 

Mary nodded without a moment of hesitation, and a proud smile appeared on her face as she answered Cyrus' question. "The histories have it that eight clans lived in the Flatlands in those days," she replied immediately. 

Cyrus nodded, his smile still bright and unyielding. "Correct you are, Your Highness! It was a time of great strife here in the Flatlands, as the eight clans waged a long and bitter war. Change would come when the armies of Grandport invaded these lands some two centuries ago. At the time, the rulers of Grandport sought to exert their influence over territories inland. Ironically, this compelled the warring tribes to put aside their differences and unite against their common foe," he explained. 

Cyrus didn't realize how long he had been speaking until he saw that a man had made his way into the room while he was speaking. The man was a familiar one to Cyrus, a messenger for the royal family undoubtedly there to retrieve Mary for her afternoon duties. "Oh, but look at the time! We'll pick up where we left off next time," he said, allowing his smile to shift to one of awkwardness when he recognized just how long he had been talking for. As Mary and Therese began to pull their things together to depart, Cyrus offered one final comment. "Don't forget to read chapters three and four of your textbook before our next lecture, and be prepared to answer questions on any of the material within."

"Thank you, Professor," Therese said as both she and Mary nodded. Therese pulled her bag over her shoulders, smoothing out the wrinkles and creases of her skirt as she rose to her feet. Her eyes spoke of something hidden and shaded, but she didn't say anything beyond that. 

Therese was already starting to walk towards the door when Cyrus stepped down from the podium and began to walk towards the exit of the room. Mary's voice caught his attention before he could properly depart, and Therese stopped in her tracks. "Thank you for another most stimulating lecture, Professor Albright," Mary told Cyrus in her high-pitched yet melodic voice. 

"You are most welcome," Cyrus responded as he moved towards the door. Therese deflated, not bothering to follow him, as Mary smiled at his response. She continued packing her things soon afterwards, and Cyrus shut the door behind himself carefully as he excused himself in full.

Cyrus had only just rounded the corner outside of the classroom when he was stopped by a guard wearing the traditional armor of the Atlasdam knights. "Ah, Professor Albright. Mercedes from the Royal Library came by with a message for you. Seems today's your lucky day. You've been granted permission to enter the special archives," the knight explained.

Cyrus let out a gasp before a smile appeared on his face. He had been petitioning for permission to investigate the archives for quite some time, and it appeared that his wish had finally been fulfilled. "Splendid! Finally, I can begin my research," he smiled. There were many matters that Cyrus found to be intriguing, but magic was easily one of the top subjects on his list. The special archives held many one of a kind volumes about different types of magic, and since Cyrus was looking to further his arcane abilities, this was just what he had been waiting for. 

The guard walked away with a brief nod, and Cyrus began to walk as quickly as he could through the halls of the palace. If he had been given the chance to enter the archives, then he had to make haste. This was a chance that he had been waiting for, and he refused to pass it up. His boots clicked against the stone ground below as he granted brief greetings to those he encountered on the way out of the building.

Cyrus was at the base of the stairs when he could have sworn that he heard someone calling out his name. It sounded like Therese, but he couldn't see any details from his position, and he was left to wonder if perhaps he had imagined it. In truth, she was hiding behind a nearby railing as she watched him cautiously, but Cyrus remained oblivious to her presence. She had slipped away while he was occupied with the knight of Atlasdam, but she was the only one to have done so.

"Professor Albright!" 

The voice of Mary quickly shifted Cyrus' attention, and he glanced up to see that Mary was walking down the stairs quickly with a bright smile on her face. "Oh, thank heavens you're still here!" Mary cried out as she speedily descended the remaining stairs, gathering her skirt in one hand to keep from tripping along the way. "I thought I had missed you."

Cyrus shook his head to dismiss the thought. "What can I do for you, Your Highness?" he asked. 

"If you can spare the time, I had a question about something we learned today," Mary explained. She smoothed out her skirt as she waited in eager anticipation for a response. 

"But of course, Your Highness! It would be my pleasure to answer anything," Cyrus replied, a bright smile breaking out across his face once again. "After all, my role as your tutor is as important to me as any of my research. Unfortunately, I cannot spare much time. Is the question a quick one?" As glad as he was to answer her inquiries, Cyrus knew that the archives would not wait for him forever. He had been patient in waiting for the time that he would be accepted into the secret halls of the library, and he refused to allow this chance to slip away from him.

"Yes, Professor. It will not take long," Mary assured him as she took another step closer to him. "I was just wondering about the ancient religion of Hornburg. Pray tell, what did they worship?"

"A very astute question, Your Highness," Cyrus commented. "However, I fear that nearly all the texts detailing the nature of the religion were burned and lost when Hornburg fell."

Mary nodded, her expression falling from chipper to something somewhat upset. "I see... A shame, that is," she remarked under her breath. 

"I do, however, have a theory of my own," Cyrus told her quickly, not at all fond of seeing Mary so crestfallen. He disliked seeing anyone upset, but given his duty to teach Mary in the ways of the world, he was particularly unhappy when he saw her grow sorrowful. It didn't fit her sunny disposition in the slightest. "I believe that the members of the royal family of Hornburg were guardians of an ancient power... Mind you, this is not idle speculation. My theory is based on the fact that..."

As Cyrus continued to explain the ins and outs of his proposal, Therese let out a small sigh from her place behind the nearby railing. She was quiet enough to keep from being heard, but her disappointment was immeasurable. Tears were starting to well up in her eyes by the time that Cyrus and Mary had finished their conversation, and she was left still as a statue as she waited for them to finish speaking about the theory regarding Hornburg's history.

Mary's voice cut through the air in a way that felt all too perfect as Therese was starting to rub the tears from her face with the heel of her hand. "Let us continue this discussion another time. My apologies for keeping you, Professor," she said, a melodic laugh pushing its way free of her lips. "I suppose that we both lost track of time when we began talking."

Cyrus shook his head. "No need for apologies! And it would be my pleasure, Your Highness," he assured her. "That such questions occur to you is a sign of a sharp and curious mind. It's lovely to see from any student."

"Your lectures on the history of the realm are fascinating to me," Mary confessed as she began to grin. "For if I do not learn of our past, how can I hope to lead my people to a bright future?"

"A most admirable philosophy," Cyrus remarked kindly. "The people of this land are truly fortunate to be led by one of such wisdom and kindness as yourself, as I am sincerely fortunate to have to have the opportunity to serve in some small way."

Pink began to tint Mary's cheeks as she shook her head, suddenly struggling to meet Cyrus' gaze under the influence of his unintentional flattery. "You are far too kind, Professor Albright. I am proud to be your student as well."

Cyrus smiled in return before a thought occurred to him. He let out a gasp as he glanced to the door. "Oh, dear, I'm running late," he murmured softly. "Pray do not forget your assignment, Your Highness."

"Of course, Professor," Mary replied. She gave him a soft wave before pivoting on her heel and starting up the nearby stairwell. She disappeared into the deeper recesses of the palace soon afterwards, and Cyrus watched her vanish from sight before turning his attention to his next destination. 

As he walked towards the entrance of the palace, he saw a flash of purple and silver out of the corner of his eye. He turned to see Therese standing against the stone wall, her gaze cast forlornly on the ground below. Cyrus grinned once more before greeting her. "Oh, hello there, Therese," he said simply.

Nearby, Therese's fingers began to dig into her palms as she did her best to hide her emotions. She didn't bother looking up at Cyrus, instead concentrating on the place where her shoes met the ground below. She refused to allow him to see that she had been on the verge of tears. Luckily for her, Cyrus didn't notice, and he continued without hesitation. "Did you have a question for me as well?" he inquired.

Therese's first action was to backpedal, and she shook her head. "I... I mean... Um..." she stammered before letting out a sigh. "No. Good day, Professor." She was quick when she dashed towards the door, and she disappeared from view a moment later, leaving behind only a bewildered Cyrus in the entryway of the Atlasdam palace. 

He did his best to shake off the curiosity before walking out of the palace and through the stony streets of Atlasdam. As was typical for mornings in the city, activity was plentiful, and people bustled in every direction trying to go about their daily routines. Cyrus wove in and out between the crowds before making his way to the library, and he pushed open the door before making his way to the desk at the back of the building. 

"Good day, Mercedes. Cyrus Albright, here to browse the special archives," Cyrus explained, smiling to the receptionist of the library brightly. 

Mercedes responded with a laugh as she shook her head, leaving her light brown hair to shift slightly from its place in a neat bun at the back of her head. "Oh, Professor Albright. You're looking quite eager today," she remarked casually. 

Cyrus laughed as well, and when he spoke, his words were filled with sunshine itself. "When I heard that an original copy of The Church of the Flame: The Complete Historie had been donated to our archives, I simply had to be the first to see it," he explained. 

"You're more on top of our collection than I am," Mercedes commented. She slid a piece of paper and a matching quill across the desk. "Just sign here..."

"With pleasure!" Cyrus reached out for the quill and quickly signed his name in grand, swirling characters. When he was finished, he set the pen down with a sense of strong authority that could not be rivaled. However, when he looked up, he could see that Mercedes' expression had faltered. "Hm? Is something amiss?"

"For someone known as the most brilliant mind in the Royal Academy..." Mercedes began, her voice trailing off before falling into nothingness. "When you talk about books, you're as giddy as a schoolboy."

Cyrus laughed, and his jubilation seemed to fill the back area of the library. "When you put it that way, yes, you are correct. Much as a child is fascinated by a new toy... I am titillated by the prospect of acquiring new knowledge."

"The expression on your face says it all," Mercedes assured him. She pushed herself away from her desk and rose from her seat, flattening out the wrinkles in her skirt along the way. "Everything seems to be in order. Enjoy your quest for knowledge, Professor."

Mercedes approached the door waiting behind her desk. Cyrus had long dreamed of going beyond the barrier of wood to see what the archives had to offer him, and at long last, he was being given the chance. Mercedes was the unofficial guardian of the archives, and she was all too happy to twist the knob and gesture for Cyrus to enter. 

"Many thanks, my dear! I most certainly will," Cyrus told her. He waved simply to Mercedes as he walked into the door behind her, and he was met with a lengthy set of stairs that descended into the ground below. Cyrus began his approach to the archives themselves, and his footsteps echoed in the dark yet perfectly clean space. A few candles were lit on the wall, and they were hidden within sconces along the way to the archives. Cyrus gave them a respectful smile, unable to hide his gleaming grin with the royal archives finally within his grasp. His dreams were coming true right before his eyes, and he hardly knew what to do with himself.

As soon as Cyrus reached the archives, he began his search through the area. There were a few lights illuminating the room, and the books were organized as neatly as could be. Cyrus brushed his fingers against the spines of the books, feeling the perfection of the leather bound tightly alongside parchment. He sighed to himself and began to explore in full. 

The filing system was identical to the way that the library was organized, and Cyrus searched the room while looking at the covers. They were in alphabetical order as expected. He was looking for the area with books starting with 'C', and luckily for him, it didn't take long to find what he was searching for. 

However, as Cyrus began to examine the spines of the books, he found that he was unable to locate the book in question. He frowned to himself and searched once again. Sure enough, his findings had come up short, and The Church of the Flame: The Complete Historie was nowhere to be found. No matter how many times he looked, he was never able to locate it, leaving Cyrus to frown deeply to himself.

"There must be a mistake..." Cyrus murmured as he continued his search. Perhaps the book had simply been returned to the wrong location. That wasn't completely out of the realm of possibility. He began to skim through the shelves once again, but he was met with the same results as before: nothing that even resembled the book in question appeared to him. 

"The archives are strictly guarded and curated... Wherever could it have gone?" Cyrus asked into the silence. He placed one hand against his chin and allowed his eyes to slip closed. There had to be a logical explanation for this, and if he looked closely enough, he would be able to find it. Perhaps someone else was temporarily borrowing the book. Then again, if that was the case, Mercedes certainly would have mentioned it when he said that was what he was hoping to see. On top of that, only a select handful had access to the archives. Cyrus could count on one hand who could enter the space on a regular basis.

Knuckles rapped against the wall, and Cyrus turned to see that Mercedes had descended the stairwell into the archives. "Professor Albright, the headmaster would see you at once," she told him. 

Cyrus let out a sigh, trying not to show his disappointment with his employer. It almost felt like petty targeting that the headmaster had asked to see him now of all times. "Of all the times to... Oh, well," he said softly. He took a few steps towards the door before his curiosity began to mount once again. "Might I ask of you a favor?"

Mercedes seemed to notice the weight that his words carried as she took a hesitant step forward. "What might that be?" she questioned. 

"The tome I mentioned before seems to have gone missing. Might you help me to locate it, please?" Cyrus explained. 

"Missing?" Mercedes echoed, her eyes wide in surprise. "Hm... I'll begin looking at once, Professor." She approached the shelves and began to examine the volumes in detail. 

"Many thanks," Cyrus told Mercedes as he moved towards the door. He ascended back to the main area of the library and left the building behind. His target was the Royal Academy for better or worse. If the headmaster wished to see him, then that could only mean something upsetting was taking place. Cyrus rarely saw eye to eye with his employer, and he was admittedly concerned for what the upcoming conversation would have in store for him. 

When Cyrus arrived at the academy, he moved to the second floor and approached the grand pair of doors that housed the headmaster's office. He knocked swiftly and curtly before taking a step back to wait for entry. "Cyrus Albright, by your request, sir."

"Enter."

Hearing the voice from within prompted Cyrus to push the doors open, and he walked inside slowly. The headmaster's office was just as he remembered it between the ornate desk, expensive bookshelves, and lavish curtains. Cyrus held himself with pride as he walked inside, doing his best to not make it seem as if he was as suspicious as he felt inside. Something about this felt wrong, and he pressed his lips together tightly into a line out of internalized concern.

Across the room, two people could be seen. First was Cyrus' employer, Headmaster Yvon. He had dark hair that was starting to gray, and the silver streaks could be seen in the morning sunshine that streamed in through the windows. He wore black robes lined with gold to show how prestigious his position was, and his eyes, as bright and deep as crimson rubies, stared at Cyrus with something that appeared to be passive contempt. Cyrus did his best to keep from returning the favor, and the awful feeling in his stomach only began to grow worse. 

The other person in the space was Lucia, Yvon's assistant and a longtime helper at the Royal Academy. Her hair was black, but tints of purple could be seen in the same light that exposed Yvon's age. She wore a bold violet dress that contrasted its confidence with her understated aura. The cloak around her shoulders was black, and her eyes were impossible to read. Cyrus had never fully understood what was going through Lucia's mind, and that remained true as he waited for one of them to speak. 

"My apologies for summoning you on such short notice," Yvon told Cyrus, but it was clear as could be from the malice that dripped off his words that he wasn't truly sorry at all. His eyes remained unreadable, but the passive anger resting beneath the surface made Cyrus nervous all over again. 

He shoved the sensation aside and took a few steps closer to Yvon and Lucia. "How might I be of assistance, Headmaster?" Cyrus questioned. He was simply waiting for everything to boil over and spiral into hell. 

"That treatise on arcane studies you published... What in the gods' names were you thinking?" Yvon questioned, and Cyrus' suspicions were confirmed as Yvon's gaze shifted from a mercurial glance to a hardened glare. 

"Sir? I do believe I made my hypothesis perfectly clear..." Cyrus told Yvon. The thesis in question had involved Cyrus providing evidence that perhaps there were more elements of magic that could be used beyond simply the basic group of six that was known across Orsterra. He had found proof from the time of the gods to back up such a concept, and he was sure that he had shown perfectly what he thought on the matter. 

"I'm not talking about your hypothesis!" Yvon shouted. The rage in his eyes certainly seemed to be adding heat to a whistling kettle, and the metaphorical boiling water began to drip over the side of Yvon's previous composure. "You went out of your way to cite one of the texts in our special archives! The knowledge housed in those tomes is the Royal Academy's greatest treasure! It is not to be divulged to the public at your whim. Laying it bare in one of your silly papers is out of the question!"

Cyrus took a step forward, his own passion beginning to steam. Perhaps this was one reason that Yvon had been so hesitant to allow him into the archives. Mercedes had allowed Cyrus to borrow individual tomes before, but he hadn't been given the chance to enter the space until that day. It seemed that in between the time of Cyrus receiving permission and his arrival in Yvon's office, his employer had come to his own conclusions about his work.

Still, Cyrus did his best to remain composed. "I am fully aware of the value of those tomes, Headmaster. It is for that very reason that I would share the knowledge with my peers--"

"You are to share nothing! That wisdom is for the academy and the academy alone!" Yvon suddenly exclaimed angrily, slamming his hand onto his desk. Cyrus flinched. Lucia remained as still as a statue, just as silent as ever. 

"But that goes against everything--" Cyrus tried to protest.

"Enough, Cyrus!" Yvon screamed, bringing any objections to silence. Cyrus pressed his lips together once again. He knew that arguing wasn't going to do him any good. Yvon had always had a differing philosophy than Cyrus himself; while Cyrus viewed knowledge as something to be shared and cherished, Yvon treated it as a priceless medal, hoarding it the way that beasts of old held tightly to the shiniest of gemstones. Knowledge was power, and power was meant to be hoarded as far as Yvon was concerned. Cyrus' ideals of kindness had always brought him to clash with the headmaster, but that didn't mean their arguments were pleasant.

Instead, Cyrus let out a stiff sigh through his nose. "My apologies, Headmaster. It won't happen again. Is there anything else you need of me?" he questioned, suddenly yearning to be anywhere but there. 

"That is all," Yvon said, his voice practically a snarl. "You may go." Cyrus had only taken one step towards the door, not taking his eyes off Yvon, before his employer continued. "Wait. There was one last thing."

"Sir?" Cyrus questioned carefully, understanding to not push the matter too hard. 

"I heard the special archives will be closing early today. If you have research to do there, I would do so quickly," Yvon replied, his voice still a dark and irritated growl. 

Cyrus knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was Yvon's way of punishing him. He hadn't heard anything of this from Mercedes earlier in the day, and Yvon was the one who decided who entered the special archives. This transgression would not go forgotten, and Cyrus doubted he would get the chance to investigate again anytime soon. Yvon had been merciful before, but such would not last much longer. 

"Thank you for your concern, Headmaster," Cyrus said through the illusion of neutrality. "In that case, I'll be on my way." He walked quickly towards the door this time, and once he was gone from the room, he made his way to the royal archives. He had to enjoy this chance to investigate the archives as long as it lasted. For all he knew, this would be his first and last opportunity to do so. 

~~~~~

A knock fell on the doors of Yvon's office once again soon after Cyrus had left the area behind. Yvon was sitting at his desk when he responded, doing his best to hold back a frustrated sigh. "Enter," he drawled. 

Therese slowly walked inside, her hands trembling and her teeth clamped firmly on the skin inside of her lip. She struggled to walk straight under the influence of her nerves. "Excuse me, Headmaster..." she began softly. 

Yvon rose to his full height, and Lucia watched from her place in the corner of the room where she was examining the bookshelves. "Yes? What is it, Therese?" Yvon questioned.

Therese took in a large breath before exhaling shakily. "It's... It's about Professor Albright, sir..." 

Chapter Text

When Cyrus arrived back at the Royal Library, his anguish towards Yvon was still burning strong. Cyrus was hardly the type to be completely consumed by his emotions in such a way, but the blatant misbehavior of his superior was beyond unsettling. Yvon was only doing this to rub Cyrus the wrong way after he dared to step out of line. Yvon had yearned for further control for as long as Cyrus could remember, and today was no exception. He wondered if he would ever truly be able to cooperate with his superior without being caught up in thoughts about all of Yvon's odd actions. 

Cyrus shut the door carefully behind him as he entered the library, and when he did, he saw Mercedes behind the desk. She looked up when she heard that someone had entered the library, and she rose to her feet before approaching him. "Ah, Professor Albright," she greeted. 

Cyrus walked to her side before speaking in return, making sure to keep his voice down so that the others in the library were undisturbed. "Did you have any luck finding the tome?" he questioned. 

Mercedes winced as she looked at the ground. "I'm afraid not..." she replied softly. 

Cyrus closed his eyes in contemplation. "Well, this is most unfortunate. One might conclude that it has been stolen," he murmured, talking more to himself than Mercedes. 

Mercedes responded regardless of his intentions, and her eyes went wide with aghast shock. "Professor, taking books out from these archives is strictly forbidden," she reminded him. "And as you know, the keys to the vault are entrusted to only a select few! Quite honestly, it would be easier to steal the crown off the king's head."

Cyrus fell silent as he was lost in his own thoughts. "An impregnable vault... A disappearing tome..." he whispered to himself. Once again, Mercedes overhearing him was little more than an afterthought. "It would seem we have quite the mystery on our hands. And the mysteries of the world are meant to be solved! ...Or so the scholar in me says. Wouldn't you agree?"

Mercedes didn't seem as confident, and she shifted anxiously back and forth between her feet. "If it had been stolen, I would say it's a job for the city guard..." she cautioned Cyrus. "But I can see you won't let it go until you've 'cracked the case,' as it were."

He nodded with a laugh. "You could say that, indeed. A habit I just can't seem to break," he agreed. "Once a puzzle is placed before me, I simply cannot rest until I've worked out a solution."

"Well, far be it from me to stand in your way," Mercedes told him, and no small amount of humor made its way into her voice as she shook her head, well used to Cyrus' antics by now. "It must be tough being a genius."

"I'll not deny it!" Cyrus confessed with a shrug. "Worry not--the tome will be back on the shelf before you can bat an eyelash." The smile that spread across his face was filled to the brim with pride, and the sun itself seemed to be gleaming through his eyes. 

"Right. Thanks," Mercedes told him with a gentle grin of her own. "Best of luck in your search." She returned to her place at her desk as Cyrus made his way towards the door of the library, and she watched him dutifully until the hinges creaked gently to signify his departure.

This was not going to be an easy case for him to figure out. There wasn't much information to go off, and for all Cyrus knew the tome was already far from Atlasdam's walls by that point. Still, that didn't mean that he wasn't going to try. The tome had arrived at the archives rather recently, so he couldn't have had too much of a disadvantage. If he put his mind to it, perhaps he would be able to find the answer sooner rather than later. 

"Now, where to begin my search...?" Cyrus whispered to himself, slipping once again into his old habit of muttering under his breath. He had never even bothered trying to break such a routine, believing that it helped him to get his thoughts out into the open more clearly. He would certainly need that at a moment like this. "I suppose I should inquire with Mercedes as to where the keys to the library are stored. The guard at the front door would know who has been frequenting the library lately. As might my fellow scholars..." Cyrus fell quiet for a moment before finishing his suggestions to himself. "Then, mayhap, I should pay the headmaster a visit as well..."

Cyrus truly did hate having to confess that he needed to speak with Yvon. It was the last thing that he wanted to do given their recent altercation, and he somehow doubted that Yvon was going to be willing to speak with him on equal footing. Granted, there was no such thing as equal footing as far as Yvon was concerned given how obsessed with power he was, but Cyrus suspected that their previous argument was only going to make matters more difficult. 

For the time being, Cyrus turned his attention to the guard positioned beside the door. There was a chair next to the library's entrance, and the guard's visor was down. He was slouched forward, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest implied that he was asleep. Cyrus frowned to himself before carefully reaching out a hand. "Excuse me," he said simply. 

It only took a brief shake on the shoulder for the guard to snap out of his slumber. He snorted as he returned to his regular posture, glancing around in panic. "P-Professor Albright!" he cried out in surprise. 

"Good day to you, sir," Cyrus greeted, doing his best to remain cordial despite the weakness he had seen from the guard. "Might I ask you about the archives? I believe that a theft might have occurred involving a rare tome. Do you happen to have keys to the vault beneath the library?"

The guard nodded furiously, still trying to cover his tracks. "Of course I've got a key to the archives," he told Cyrus quickly, his anxiety clearly skyrocketing. 

Cyrus figured that he would make no progress as long as the elephant in the room continued to disturb them. He frowned before speaking once again. "Were you sleeping?" he questioned deliberately. Cyrus glanced down at the guard's hip and saw that the hook that was meant to hold the key to the archives was empty. No matter what the guard said, Cyrus had been given the information to receive an answer.

"No, I wasn't sleeping," the guard assured him despite how obvious the lie was. "I was resting my eyes, that's all. B-But even if I was sleeping, what would it matter? What kind of fool would bother stealing a worthless tome anyways?"

Cyrus watched the man for a moment, and he nodded quietly. "Thank you for your time," he told the guard before walking into the library. The guard watched him pass, still clearly shaken at being disturbed. Cyrus didn't give him a second glance. 

Inside the library, Cyrus approached Mercedes. "I do promise to make this quick," he assured her when confusion crossed over her gaze. "Who has keys to the archives?" 

"Only Headmaster Yvon and the guard stationed outside should have keys to the archives," Mercedes replied. "Do you believe that one of them could be responsible?"

Cyrus shook his head. "It's impossible to say right now, but I'll return to you as soon as I have an answer. Thank you again for your time, Mercedes." She nodded in response, and Cyrus walked towards the door of the library. He could go to the Royal Academy next, and it would be easy to speak with both a fellow scholar and the headmaster there. 

On the way out, Cyrus was hit by the sudden sensation that he was being watched. He stopped in his tracks and peered around a nearby bookshelf. Sure enough, there was someone watching from around the wooden frame of the furniture, and Cyrus recognized the face immediately. Russell had been working at the Officers Academy for the past three years, and while Cyrus would never go so far as to say that they knew one another well, they were most certainly acquainted. 

Russell had always been the jittery type, but something about him felt different as Cyrus cautiously approached him. He hadn't been able to learn about who was frequenting the library from the guard due to his sleepy habits, but there was a chance that Russell would be able to offer him with the answers that he needed. 

"Excuse me, Russell," Cyrus began carefully. Russell looked like a caged animal, and when Cyrus looked closer, he could see that the man's hands were shaking. "Would you happen to know anything about the keys to the archives?"

Russell seemed to grow paler by a shade, but Cyrus chose to not take away too much from it. "The key to the archives? Oh, I haven't got that..." he replied, stammering to get the words out. "Why are you asking me about it in the first place?"

"A tome was stolen from the archives, and I'm attempting to track it down," Cyrus explained. He could see the way that Russell struggled to sit still, and the anxiety mounting in the man's eyes was palpable enough to make Cyrus frown intensely. "Have you seen anyone out of the ordinary frequenting the library as of late? You would know as a scholar of the Royal Academy."

Russell shook his head forcefully, and Cyrus couldn't help but feel as if the other man was trying to convince him a bit too much. "N-No, nobody strange has come by here..." he replied. Cyrus' gaze shifted to a glare, and Russell swallowed nervously before continuing to talk, his tongue clearly getting the best of him as he rambled at the speed of light. "But I'm not surprised someone stole a tome, considering what they're worth. I've got gambling debts myself, so I understand the temptation... But I didn't steal the tome!"

Cyrus held himself back from pointing out that he had never accused Russell of such. Instead, he focused on the light jingling sound that he heard when Russell shifted back and forth between his feet. "Thank you for your assistance," Cyrus told Russell as he turned on his heel and left the archives behind. 

As he made his way to the Royal Academy, Cyrus busied himself with musings about Russell's strange behavior so that he wouldn't have to think about the fact that he was off to see Yvon on his own terms after their issues earlier in the day. Russell had been anxious before, but his nerves only seemed to grow worse when he saw Cyrus was inquiring about the tome. Cyrus was left to wonder if perhaps this was important somehow. Russell was, by nature, a jittery person, but Cyrus couldn't shake the feeling that there was something off about it this time. 

Cyrus' thoughts were ultimately shelved when he arrived at the Royal Academy's doors. He walked inside and began walking as quickly as he could without gathering excessive attention to his purpose. Yvon's threat lingered in the back of his mind, and Cyrus knew that he wouldn't be able to go back to the archives if he took too long speaking with his superior. 

By the time that Cyrus had arrived at Yvon's door, he knew what he had to do. He knocked firmly and waited for a response. By the time that Yvon had bid him entry, Cyrus had already organized the words that he was going to speak, and he approached Yvon's desk carefully. 

Yvon was sitting alone in the office, and Lucia was nowhere to be found. Cyrus cast such a fact out of his mind, instead doing his best to seal away the animosity found in Yvon's scowl. Once again, it seemed as if there was something different about Yvon, though Cyrus somehow doubted that it was at all related to the cause of Russell's earlier nerves. 

"Cyrus," Yvon commented blankly, his eyes not lacking for anger. "What do you want?" The bluntness to his words was startling and upsetting, and Cyrus did his best to ignore it in favor of focusing on the mission. For all he knew, this was simply the residual upset left behind by their spat from earlier in the morning. 

"Do you have a key to the archives?" Cyrus questioned of him. "A tome has gone missing, and I'm doing what I can to determine the source of its disappearance."

For a moment, Yvon's shoulders knotted with tension, but he corrected his posture in the blink of an eye. "You know full well that I have a key to the special archives and that I would never be so foolish as to let it fall into the wrong hands," Yvon snapped. Cyrus had to force his shoulders to remain pressed back to keep from flinching. "In any event, I have had no reason to peruse those tomes in quite some time. The key has been in this drawer gathering dust for ages."

Yvon opened a drawer found in the upper right portion of his desk, and Cyrus glanced at it to the best of his ability while still keeping his distance. Even from far away, he could see the dust that covered the inside of the shelf. "Thank you for your assistance," Cyrus told Yvon as he retreated from the room. Yvon's eyes remained fixed in a glare as Cyrus left the area behind, shutting the door behind him. Cyrus blamed the anger on their previous argument, understanding fully well how petty Yvon had the power to be. 

By the time that Cyrus had arrived back in the square of Atlasdam, he felt as if the pieces had finally come together. The guard stood outside the library, but he had little knowledge of the books that he watched over or the true value they held. On top of that, his key had gone missing. Yvon hadn't been to the archives in quite some time, and dust had gathered on his key to make it clear that he had kept his distance from the library. Mercedes had been sure to tell him that only Yvon and the guard had keys to the special archives, and she would know best as the library. Finally, there was Russell with all of his strange behavior and the way that he had mentioned having gambling debts when Cyrus scrutinized him enough. 

"That should be all the information I need to solve this case," Cyrus said to himself after he had gone over it once again internally. He was sure that the path of logic was going to lead him in the right direction. All he had to do was follow the road that the facts had presented him with. 

There were two keys to the archives. One of them was owned by the guard of the library, and the other belonged to Yvon. However, Yvon's key had fallen under a layer of dust, proof that it hadn't been used in quite some time. The guard's key must have been the one that was used, and the fact that it was missing from his hip made it even clearer. The guard's sleepy behavior had ultimately been his downfall, allowing the key to easily be stolen off his person. 

It was doubtful that the guard was the one behind the theft. He didn't know enough about the value of the books that he defended, and he didn't seem to understand why anyone would want to steal them in the first place. The culprit would have needed to know the true value of the tome, and Cyrus could think of someone who was both aware of how important the books of the archives were and suspicious in every way imaginable. 

Russell had gathered together quite the debt due to his gambling habits, and he had grown shifty and anxious when he noticed that Cyrus was trying to figure out who was behind the disappearance of the tome. If that wasn't evidence that he was guilty of this incident, then Cyrus didn't know what was. This was the only explanation that made sense, and he was confident that his logic hadn't betrayed him. 

"Now all that remains is to find our man and make him confess to the crime," Cyrus muttered to himself. He closed his eyes as he tried to think over where Russell would be. Atlasdam's busy square continued to move around him. 

Cyrus was so caught up in his own thoughts that he almost didn't notice it when Russell himself came walking by. Russell was clearly worked up by his own fear, and he didn't seem to see Cyrus at all. In fact, Russell moved through the crowd effortlessly, not caring about who gave him sideways glances along the way. Cyrus watched Russell from afar, figuring that it would be best to confront him under circumstances where evidence would be present.

Russell walked down the stairs out of the square and towards a small patch of grass. The grass led to a pathway that gave way to an entrance to the underground. Russell gave a brief glance at his surroundings before moving inside, not realizing that Cyrus had seen everything. The dark-haired scholar watched for a few moments later, but when he noticed that Russell wouldn't be returning, Cyrus took a step back. 

It would be best to speak with Russell when there was evidence present, and given that Russell was traveling beneath Atlasdam, Cyrus assumed that his colleague had been using the underground as a base for his shifty operations. Of course, leaving behind the city would cause a few issues for Cyrus; if he went on his own, he was bound to be attacked should Russell realize what was happening. Even if Russell didn't put up the biggest fight, he was inevitably going to grow defensive at Cyrus' accusations. It was an inevitability that Cyrus knew he would never be able to ignore. 

There was a weapons shop found within Atlasdam's lower segment. If Cyrus went there, he would be able to find a staff that could augment his magical strength. Cyrus was far from being a physical fighter by any means, but he could cast powerful spells of fire and ice. If he was forced to, he would be able to call upon other elements as well thanks to his extensive research into the arcane arts. He would need to give himself every advantage that he could, and Cyrus knew that there was no better place to start than finding a new weapon. 

"Right, then," Cyrus murmured to himself. He glanced towards the tunnel entrance one last time before making his way into the lower segment of Atlasdam, wondering what would come of his encounter with Russell. 

~~~~~

Ophilia arrived in Atlasdam close to the middle of the day, and she found herself sweating from the sun beating down overhead. She rubbed at her brow with one hand. Her gloves had been cast aside due to the heat. The Flatlands were much warmer than the Frostlands that Ophilia was used to, and she couldn't believe how geographically close they were due to the radically different temperatures. 

Atlasdam was a temporary reprieve from her journey, and Ophilia navigated through the town towards the shop. She was going to need a few extra healing grapes if she wanted to get through the day in one piece. There had been quite a few monster attacks on the way to Atlasdam, and Ophilia was embarrassed to admit that she had taken more than a dozen hits in the process. The Ember continued to burn within the Lanthorn, but its light could only do so much to heal Ophilia's woes. She needed a break, plain and simple. 

Ophilia started to walk through the bustling city soon afterwards, hating how out of place she felt. Atlasdam's residents came from many corners of the world, but not many seemed to come there from Flamesgrace. Ophilia didn't think that anybody was staring at her, and she took great solace in the fact that she was less of an outcast here than she had been in Flamesgrace. Her stomach ached with the cruel stab of irony. 

Ophilia was so distracted with trying to reach the destination in mind of the local shop that she didn't notice the man walking towards her until it was too late. It seemed that neither one of them had been paying attention, and Ophilia was sent crashing to the ground. The Lanthorn slid away from her grasp, landing near the feet of the man. "I-I'm so sorry!" Ophilia stammered as she got ready to rise to her feet. One hand reached out for the Lanthorn. 

When Ophilia glanced up, she was met with the face of none other than Cyrus. Despite their sudden collision, he didn't seem to be upset. "You don't need to apologize," he assured her with a smile on his face. "I should have been paying more attention." Cyrus got to his feet and helped Ophilia to rise by reaching one hand out in her direction. She hesitated before accepting his offer. 

Cyrus leaned down before picking up the Lanthorn, and his eyes immediately went wide. He seemed to be enthralled by it. "Incredible..." he murmured. When he noticed that Ophilia's eyes were anxious, he let out a small chuckle before returning the Lanthorn to her. "My apologies. I suppose that my curiosity got the best of me... I can sense incredible magical strength from that lantern of yours."

Ophilia was stuck in place for a moment. Lantern was certainly one way of putting it. "Oh... Um... Yeah," she eventually said, immediately kicking herself internally for sounding so awkward. She looked down and realized that her fingers were touching Cyrus' still. In her shock, she had forgotten to pull her hand away from his. 

The first thing that Ophilia noticed about him was that his magical strength was incredible. In fact, the Lanthorn seemed to agree, and it gleamed a bit brighter. She looked up to him once again, and the words fell from her lips before she could stop them. "Are you a mage?" she asked. 

Cyrus nodded. "You could certainly say that. I'm a scholar at the Atlasdam Royal Academy, though I do spend much of my time researching the magical arts on the side... You possess incredible arcane strength. If you don't mind my asking, what is your name?" he questioned. 

"Ophilia," the cleric replied. "I practice light magic. I'm a cleric at the Flamesgrace Cathedral." Ophilia winced inwardly at her sudden oversharing, but the scholar didn't seem to mind at all. 

"Cyrus Albright," he introduced himself with a bow of his head. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ophilia. Tell me, what brings you from Flamesgrace to Atlasdam? We don't see many visitors from the Frostlands."

Ophilia hesitated, unsure of if she should respond honestly. She liked to think of herself as a decent mage, though she somehow doubted that she would be able to defend herself against the immense arcane might of Cyrus if he betrayed her. "I... I'm on a pilgrimage," she finally said. It was honest, albeit an exemption of information, and Ophilia forced herself to not dwell on it further. 

"I see..." Cyrus murmured. He eyed the Lanthorn once again, and recognition dawned in his eyes before he shoved it down. If he knew the truth behind Ophilia's journey, he chose to not say anything on the matter. "If there is anything I could do to assist you, it would be my pleasure."

"I... I'm looking for the item shop here," Ophilia told him. "I'm running low on supplies, but I need to make it to Rippletide before sunset."

"What a coincidence! I was just headed there myself," Cyrus said with an honest smile as bright as the sun. "Allow me to accompany you. I need to purchase a staff and a few plums and grapes. I may have a difficult battle ahead of me, and I need to be prepared."

Ophilia nodded as she followed Cyrus to the shop. He was all too happy to buy enough grapes and plums for them both before making his way to the weapons building. He purchased a staff for himself before handing Ophilia her supplies. All she could do was stare at him in confusion and shock. He was so endlessly kind that it almost didn't seem real to her. She would have expected someone to use her pilgrimage against her if they learned the truth of her identity, but Cyrus didn't seem to mind. Granted, that was her operating under the assumption that he knew at all, and she had no evidence to back up such a claim. Her thoughts on such a matter remained though. 

Cyrus was clearly a powerful sage. She could feel his strength whenever they made contact with one another, and Ophilia knew that she could use help like that. Cyrus didn't seem to be malicious, and if she could learn other types of magic from her, it would greatly aid her travels. The further she got from Flamesgrace, the harder her battles got. If she wanted to survive, she would need to have a wide range of attacks, and Cyrus' power certainly made it seem as if he would be able to offer her what she needed. 

"Um... If you don't mind my asking, just what is it that you're going to be doing?" Ophilia questioned as she counted the grapes that Cyrus had given her. She reached into her bag to pull out the leaves needed to pay him back. 

Cyrus placed a hand on her knuckles to stop her from retrieving her money, and Ophilia hesitantly allowed her hand to fall back to her side. "A colleague of mine has been stealing tomes from the archives found here in Atlasdam. I'm on my way to confront him, but I fear that he may grow agitated when confronted. I want as much power on my side as possible," he explained. 

Ophilia took in a deep breath before speaking, steeling herself internally. "I... I would like to come with you," she told him. Her grip on the Lanthorn grew tighter, and its glow seemed to increase at her words, almost as if it could understand her emotions. 

Cyrus quirked an eyebrow up. "What about your journey? The last thing I would want to do is delay you from reaching Rippletide," he said with a frown. 

"If I come with you to help you find out what your colleague has been doing, I... I would like you to teach me another type of magic," Ophilia explained. "My light magic isn't as effective in the Flatlands, and I could use the extra coverage of elemental power."

"Ah, I understand," Cyrus murmured. He looked down to the staff in his hand before glancing towards the Lanthorn, seemingly considering his options. Ophilia's heart skipped a beat in the silence before he met her eyes with a smile. "I would be happy to aid you. This should complete my preparations, meaning we are ready to set out for the underground tunnels beneath Atlasdam. I will do what I can to help you learn a new type of magic. Ice and fire are my specialties."

"Ice magic would be great," Ophilia replied with a smile. Saintsbridge was in the Riverlands, and Ophilia knew that beasts there were weak to ice magic thanks to her youth being spent there. It would cover multiple bases, and that was precisely what Ophilia was looking to do by traveling with Cyrus in the first place. 

"Then it's settled!" Cyrus proclaimed confidently. "I pray that our mission won't take too long. I would be happy to see you off to Rippletide, though I'm afraid that I will be unable to join you. My work as a scholar here is keeping me bound to Atlasdam for the time being, but I'll do what I can until that time arrives."

"Perfect," Ophilia grinned. She was already starting to feel more at ease with Cyrus. He was an open and honest person as far as she could tell. Nothing about him seemed to imply that he had ulterior motives for assisting her, and she was starting to believe that perhaps she had imagined his observant eyes recognizing the truth of who she was. Ophilia didn't think it would be necessary to tell him that she was traveling to Saintsbridge because of the Kindling, and she hoped that it wouldn't be vital to share such a fact. She wanted to remain as low key as possible to keep from facing opposition. She seemed to get into enough trouble on her own thanks to monster battles, so finding other foes was the last thing she wanted or needed. 

Cyrus gestured for Ophilia to follow him deeper into Atlasdam, and she trailed after him. As the silence fell between them, Ophilia couldn't help but feel that something about him was familiar. It was difficult for her to place, and she was certain that she would have remembered if she had met such a distinct character before, but she was positive that they were connected somehow. The details eluded her, but Ophilia cast such thoughts aside at the soonest opportunity. After all, she had a mission to focus on. 

Cyrus and Ophilia stopped briefly at the entrance to the tunnel leading beneath Atlasdam. The two shared a brief glance, a sign of their solidified resolve, before stepping into the cavern. The light of the city streets was forgotten in favor of darkness, and there was little aside from the Ember to light their path as they chased Russell's footsteps for answers. 

Chapter Text

The tunnels beneath Atlasdam were mostly dark brown in color, and the rocks crunched beneath Cyrus and Ophilia's feet. Ophilia had pulled the Lanthorn free of its hiding place under her cape to allow it to illuminate their path, and the Ember shone brightly among the shadows. Cyrus continued to watch the Ember with curiosity, and Ophilia was left to wonder if he knew anything. Cyrus refused to yield even an inch of ground, giving her no way to say for sure if he was aware of her true identity as the Flamebearer. 

Cyrus cleared his throat to show that he was about to start discussing something solemn, and Ophilia perked up at the sound. "I can show you how to cast ice magic if you would like," he explained. Ophilia smiled and nodded in response. A rustling sound brought them to a stop, and Cyrus' expression hardened. "It seems that this would be the perfect time to practice."

A few moments, a small creature that looked like lantern appeared from around a pair of rocks, and it began to dive towards Cyrus and Ophilia. Cyrus raised his staff and slammed it into the stop of the creature to keep it at bay, and the lantern was sent flying backwards. Ophilia watched in surprise, seeing red magic flicker beneath the shaded hood of the lantern. 

"The red magic indicates that it's made of fire magic," Cyrus explained. "That means that it will likely be weak to ice magic. Allow me to demonstrate how to cast it. Focus on something as cold as possible, and expel that energy out through your hands. It's similar to other types of magic, but you must concentrate on your knowledge of cold climates in order to perfect it rather than the sun, for example, as you would with light magic."

Cyrus raised his other hand, and white energy began to mount across his fingers before flying forward in the direction of the lantern. Speckles of blue could be seen as icicles spread outwards, slamming into the lantern. The creature let out a hissing sound before completely falling dormant, clearly trapped in place by the attack. When the ice splintered and shattered, the beast was gone save for a few twisted pieces of scrap metal. 

"Wow," was all Ophilia could say in response to that. She looked up at Cyrus in surprise, unsure as to how he was able to do it so effortlessly. He seemed to have had more than enough practice with his magic, and it was so easy for him that it looked as if he didn't have to try. Ophilia still had to summon a significant amount of energy in order to truly cast a light spell, and that was what she was familiar with. She couldn't even imagine how difficult it would have been to break out of her comfort zone to focus on other types of magic. 

"It simply takes practice," Cyrus explained when he saw how surprised Ophilia was at the sight of his magic. "If you concentrate enough, you should be able to execute proper attacks with it. Magic requires concentration, but at its heart, each type of magic functions the same way as all others do. If you place your energy in it, then you can summon anything you so please."

"How do you cast other types of magic?" Ophilia questioned, careful to keep her voice down to ensure that no monsters heard them as they continued their journey through the cave towards Russell. 

"For me, I imagine a fireplace for fire magic. I allow it to consume me before bursting outwards. I think of blizzards for ice magic, and storms correspond with thunder magic. I'm admittedly less proficient with wind, light, and dark magic, but you seem to know how to handle light as it is anyways," Cyrus began. "I have theories that there are other types of magic out there as well that simply haven't been discovered. After all, some types of magic have been associated with members of the circle of twelve gods that founded Orsterra. However, the other six members of the group lack a corresponding element, which leads me to believe that perhaps there is more than we can see now."

Ophilia nodded her understanding. She had to admit that she found Cyrus' explanations fascinating. She hadn't ever been given the chance to investigate into magic as much as she would have liked because of her duties to the church, but Ophilia was confident that she would have more than a chance to branch out as long as she was with Cyrus. He was already inspiring new hope inside of her to find out more about other types of magic. 

Cyrus could tell that Ophilia was intrigued, as a bold smile crossed his face as he continued speaking. "As of now, my theory is as follows: Aelfric used light magic, Alephan utilized ice, Bifelgan used wind, Sealticge mastered dark, Aeber manipulated fire, and Draefendi had thunder at her beck and call. Of course, this leaves Brand, Dohter, Dreisang, Steorra, Balogar, and Winnehild without a corresponding element, and they don't exactly match up with the currently discovered powers of magic as of now. Legends say that Winnehild sealed away the fallen god with power of steel, so that could indicate a new element. Perhaps these other powers were lost when the gods ascended to the heavenly plane once again after their war against the Fallen One..." he went on. 

Ophilia nodded on, understanding that his title as a scholar was not simply something for show. He was well-versed in the subjects that he researched, and she knew that there was still more that he hadn't yet mentioned. If given the chance, Cyrus likely would have continued for hours at a time, and Ophilia wouldn't have been able to object. If they were not on a mission, Ophilia would have asked if she could hear as much as possible about magic given her lacking knowledge on the power, but there was too much happening for her to do such a thing. 

Another rushing sound pulled Ophilia from her thoughts, and Cyrus was forced to stop speaking in the middle of his sentence. Ophilia glanced around instinctively, trying desperately to locate the origin of the sound. When her gaze eventually fell upon another lantern that had crawled out of the shadows, she clutched her staff tighter in the hand that wasn't gripping the Lanthorn for dear life. 

Ophilia rushed forward all at once, and the staff in her hand came down hard on top of lantern, leaving an echoing sound to clap through the cave. Ophilia was too fired up on her own adrenaline to even notice what was happening, and she examined the lantern carefully. Red magic was at the heart of the container, making it clear to her that it was a fire type enemy. 

"Blizzard..." Ophilia whispered to herself. She forced her thoughts back to that morning when she had been traveling through the empty snowy expanses of the Frostlands. That had been her home for too many years to count, and she would return there soon enough. For the time being though, all she could do was remember, and she allowed her own memories to take physical form. 

With a sharp flick of her wrist, Ophilia had cast a spell of quick ice that mounted on the lantern immediately. It wasn't as clean a process as what Cyrus had displayed for her previously, but Ophilia could still see that a lot of work had been done in a relatively short amount of time. The lantern was left immobilized, and all it took was another quick blow from Cyrus' staff to finish it off. The staff shattered the ice, freeing the lantern of its icy prison and splintering it in the process. 

Cyrus clapped his hands together once in joy, a smile spreading across his face. "You learn quickly, Ophilia!" he praised her. Ophilia grinned in response, though hers was far more shy than his was. Cyrus was shameless as he continued their trek through the cave, and Ophilia followed him after she had sufficiently examined the lantern. 

"I can't believe I actually did that," Ophilia confessed. "I didn't know if I would be able to pull it off, but here we are... That was amazing! You're a great teacher, Cyrus. I don't know what I would do without your help."

"It's my joy to assist you," Cyrus assured her. "Most of the time, my attention has to be dedicated to teaching my students at the Royal Academy of Atlasdam, so I have minimal chances to fight with my magic. The fact that you are interested in learning more... I rather enjoy your enthusiasm, Ophilia. It's a pleasure that I have been able to assist you in such a way already."

"I should be the one thanking you here," Ophilia said, trying to hide the embarrassed blush that was already creeping across her face. She shook her head as she looked up at him in admiration. "I don't think I would have ever been able to pull that off if not for you... I'm going to need all the power I can get if I want to get to Saintsbridge without any issues."

"Saintsbridge..." Cyrus whispered to himself, and once again, the glaze of familiarity passed over his eyes. Ophilia could have sworn that she felt her heart stop for a moment, and she prayed that she hadn't ruined her chances at keeping her identity as the Flamebearer a secret. She was almost certain that Cyrus had already determined the truth, but she still wanted to put in at least a bit of effort to keep the truth concealed.

"I'm going there on a pilgrimage," Ophilia said, desperate to cover for herself. She realized too late that this wasn't the best thing to say, and she immediately chastised herself internally for not staying quiet sooner. She looked down at the ground, almost asking for a lantern monster to attack them so that this was no longer an issue. 

Cyrus shook his head to himself. "If you don't mind my asking... Would you happen to be the Flamebearer?" he questioned carefully, obviously trying to ensure that he didn't cross any lines with Ophilia. 

The blonde cleric looked up at him in fear, and she chose to focus on the way that the metal of the Lanthorn felt between her fingers. "I... Um..." she muttered, desperately trying to find the words to deny his claim. She knew that she wouldn't be able to get away with it, but that wasn't going to stop her from at least making the attempt. 

Then again, she had already placed her trust in Cyrus up to this point. He had given her no reasons to mistrust him, and his kindness seemed to know no limits. He hadn't asked her any questions up to that point, and if Ophilia was going to trust anybody with the sensitive information that she was the Flamebearer, it would have been him. 

Finally, Ophilia let out a sigh. "I... I am," she confessed. "There was a change of plans at the last minute, so I'm going on the Kindling as a replacement for my sister. She was supposed to be the original Flamebearer, but... Things happened, and I'm the one undergoing the pilgrimage now. Please don't tell anyone about this though. I don't want to potentially face trouble along the way to Saintsbridge because of this. 

Cyrus shook his head. "I would never dream of sharing the truth with anyone," he assured her. "I'm honored that you would trust me with this truth. It's admirable that you decided to take up the Kindling in your sister's footsteps. I have no doubt that you will be a fine Flamebearer. You have already proven yourself as a powerful mage, after all."

Ophilia was once again left stammering and helpless, unsure as to how she was supposed to respond to his words. She hadn't expected him to compliment her so freely, and she had no ideas on the answer he was expecting to hear. "Thank you," she eventually forced herself to say. Cyrus didn't even seem aware of the high praise that he was giving her, and Ophilia was left to question if he was at all knowledgeable about matters of the heart. 

"You're very welcome," Cyrus said with a bright grin. "I trust that you will look after Orsterra in your journey... I must confess that I have always wished to witness the Kindling for myself, but I am unfortunately bound to the Royal Academy at the moment. It would be a joy to go and travel Orsterra on my own terms, but I have other matters to attend to for the time being."

Ophilia could sense something behind his words that felt a lot like unfulfilled wishes, and she frowned to herself. "You really do want to travel the world, don't you?" she eventually questioned him. 

Cyrus nodded sheepishly. "I would love the idea. Of course, as I previously mentioned, that simply isn't an option for the time being. Perhaps the chance will arrive one day... I would love to see if I can prove my various theses regarding magic, but I cannot do that as long as I am here. There is much more to be learned beyond the boundaries of Atlasdam, but my duty ties me here. Who can say what the future will have in store for me though? Maybe I will get my chance yet," he told her. 

Ophilia felt a pang of sympathy for him in the corner of her chest. She wished that there was more she was able to do to help Cyrus satisfy his wishes, but she knew that she had duties of her own to concentrate on. Having Cyrus travel with her would certainly make it easier for her to navigate through the rest of the continent, but he couldn't simply leave Atlasdam as long as he had such important matters to attend to. Ophilia couldn't ask him to abandon his home for her sake. Even if he wished to see the Kindling, it was too high of an order that Ophilia didn't feel she was in the proper position to place. 

"I hope you do," Ophilia said with a gentle smile of her own. Cyrus beamed in response before focusing on placing one foot ahead of the other as the path grew uneven. Ophilia found herself concentrating on much the same, and she gripped the Lanthorn with renewed vigor to ensure that she didn't drop it. She doubted that something made by the gods would fall apart so easily, but Ophilia didn't want to chance dealing any damage to something so sacred. 

It was only after their brief conversation had come to a close that Ophilia began to recount the details in her mind. She realized too late that she had referred to Lianna as her sister without a scrap of shame. It was something odd to her given that she had been treated as Lianna's sister and Josef's daughter for most of her life, but at the same time, Ophilia had struggled for so long to feel as if she was worthy of them. It was a cruel twist of fate for her to only recognize her own worth the day before she was set to depart for Saintsbridge on a journey that she was never intended to take. 

And yet, Ophilia couldn't find complete fault in it. She had met Cyrus as a result, and if she continued to press on quickly, she would be able to arrive in Saintsbridge soon enough. That would ultimately result in her being able to travel to Goldshore, and from there, all she had to do was return to Flamesgrace. Everything was going to be alright. She was going to be able to see Josef one last time before his life force gave out. She was positive of it. She would bend apart the worlds themselves if she had to so that she could reach such an end. 

Ophilia's mind was cast back to her final encounter with him before she departed on the Kindling. She had tried to heal Josef after her tears finally settled down, but he had told her that the power of healing magic was only effective on a person who had been injured externally. It was able to mend flesh, but that was about all that it was capable of doing. Further issues, such as old age or effects like poison, were something out of the power of healing magic. Perhaps a day would come when such strength existed within healing magic, but that day had not yet arrived, meaning that Ophilia's attempts had ultimately ended in failure. 

In a strange way, Ophilia was thankful for the third lantern that appeared to her and Cyrus. It meant that she didn't have to think about the potential of grief that seemed to hang over her shoulder no matter how much she wanted to avoid it with every ounce of desperation in her body. This time, the creature had white magic bordering on being a pale blue color at the center of its body. Ophilia recognized that this had to indicate fire magic was going to be the best thing to use to defeat it, and she thought back to her conversation with Cyrus previously. 

"Fire," Ophilia whispered. She concentrated on the image of the fireplace that had existed in her father's room back at the cathedral of Flamesgrace. She remembered sitting before the hearth countless times during her youth as Josef read stories of wonder and whimsy to his daughters. Lianna had a habit of bouncing around after the fact, desperate to act out the final noble deed of the hero before she went to sleep. Ophilia usually fell asleep before her energy could drive her to such extremes, but she was fond of Lianna's machinations regardless. 

Once again, it was sweet memory that allowed Ophilia to expel the magic from her fingertips, and she watched as flames crackled towards the lantern. It was left dazed, leaving Cyrus with the perfect opportunity to follow up with an attack of his own that completely obliterated the beast, leaving behind little more than a pile of ashes on the ground. 

Ophilia was stunned silent at the power that she and Cyrus held together, and she let out a sigh of relief after the battle was over. She felt bad for the way that she had been forced to defeat the lantern in such a violent way, but there hadn't been much of a choice for either one of them. She and Cyrus had both done what they were forced to in order to survive. The creature wasn't going to let up its assault unless they defeated it. 

When Ophilia glanced over at Cyrus, she saw that the lantern had managed to get in a small cut on his face when it first appeared. Ophilia hadn't noticed it before because she had been so distracted, but she couldn't unsee the tiny gash against Cyrus' pale skin after noticing it for the first time. 

"Allow me," Ophilia told him. She raised her staff, and magic began to buzz in the air before coating both herself and Cyrus. It drained much of her remaining magical energy, but she thought that it was worth it. She watched on in satisfaction as the injury on Cyrus' face mended itself and disappeared once again. 

"I had no idea that you were able to use healing magic," Cyrus said in a whisper as he raised one hand to touch at his cheek. "I've always been curious about such a power. I'm far from being talented with it, I'm afraid. Perhaps one day, you can teach me about your own strengths in magic. Consider it an equal exchange of sorts."

"Of course!" Ophilia agreed immediately. She pulled a plum free of her bag before pushing it into her mouth, and pride swelled fully across her chest. She hadn't expected to receive such a request from Cyrus, and as far as she was concerned, it was an honor that was as good as gold. 

Neither Ophilia nor Cyrus could continue the conversation after that. A set of stairs that had clearly been carved by human hands came into view, and Ophilia stopped in her tracks. There were torches flickering from beyond the steps, and Ophilia was confident that they had arrived at their destination. Chances were high that the rest of the cave system had already existed before this Russell character appeared, but he had undoubtedly crafted the back segment to be his hideaway from the rest of the world. 

"Are you ready?" Cyrus questioned as he glanced in Ophilia's direction. When she nodded without needing a second of consideration, Cyrus set his expression in stoic determination before taking to the steps. Ophilia trailed after him silently, still clutching tightly to the staff and Lanthorn in her hands. The grip allowed her to release her excess energy. It felt as if the inside of her body was buzzing against her will, bringing her a sensation that she was far from being fond of. 

There was a man in the small area, and he was hunched over a wooden desk that appeared to be on the verge of falling apart. Papers and books littered the space, and the torches mounted to the wall were blowing softly. The crackling of flames filled the space, the only sound aside from Russell's footsteps as he navigated his underground study. He didn't even seem to notice that Cyrus and Ophilia had arrived and were watching him, too wrapped up in his own work to bother turning around. 

Cyrus fully entered the cave, but Ophilia chose to hang behind. She realized that Russell was putting together a potion of some sort as he read out of a book sitting on the desk. A hearth that held little more than embers hid in the shadows, so dim in its flames that it had gone unnoticed at first. 

Unfortunately, Cyrus and Ophilia did not go unnoticed, and Russell turned as soon as he heard Cyrus' shoes make noisy contact with the flattened rocks of the study. "Professor Albright?!" he yelped. "Are you always in the habit of barging into your peers' offices while they're working?!"

Cyrus took a step forward, and Russell took a cowardly step back. "My apologies. I would have knocked, but... I didn't see a door," he replied, his voice suddenly taking on a cold quality that Ophilia hadn't expected. A shiver went up her spine at the unexpected paradox of coldness and conversational aspects to his tone. 

"Apropos of nothing, mayhap you've heard that a certain tome was stolen from the archives," Cyrus continued, not seeming to mind Russell's nerves at all. 

Russell's eyebrows shot up. "I haven't the faintest clue what you're talking about," he said, though it was clear that he wouldn't be believed. He had been so caught up in his encounter with Cyrus that he didn't notice Ophilia until after he said this, and his gaze drifted to her. "Who is--"

"Come now, Russell," Cyrus interrupted. "Playing dumb is just going to drag this out for the both of us. So let's cut straight to the heart of the matter: you're a thief, and I can prove it." He remained calm and composed despite Russell growing increasingly unsettled, and Ophilia had to confess that she was impressed at how relaxed Cyrus was. She never would have remained so level-headed in the face of a situation such as this. 

"What?!" Russell yelled out. "The hells you can!" He glared at Cyrus with all the anger in the world, taking a step forward when he finally found the confidence to do so. His previous anxiety was quickly replaced by anger, and it was directed completely at Cyrus and his conversational yet accusatory words that echoed throughout the study with immense ferocity. 

Cyrus began to pace the width of the room, not seeming to mind the way that Russell was glaring daggers at him in the slightest. "Unfortunately for you, at precisely the moment you were trying to sneak back with the key... Your friend the guardsman was just waking up from his little slumber," he mused aloud. 

Russell stumbled backwards by a few feet. "B-But that's impossible! He was asleep, I'm positively--" Russell only realized his mistake too late, and he gasped in surprise as he looked to Cyrus, fear once again overtaking the rage and confidence in his eyes. 

Cyrus hummed to himself in mock curiosity. "Keeping up on our friend's somnolence, are we, old chum?" he questioned. Ophilia realized that it had all been a gambit to try and get Russell to confess, and when she looked down at Russel's desk, she could see a key sitting out in the open. It had likely been brought back down to the study to ensure that it was concealed from the outside world, but it was hiding among the clutter. If Cyrus had immediately jumped to using the key itself as evidence, Russell would have feigned denial, but that wasn't possible if Cyrus manipulated him into confessing by carefully selecting his words. Once again, Ophilia was overwhelmingly impressed with the power that Cyrus possessed when it came to logic and reasoning. She hadn't heard the full story of his endeavors yet, but as far as she was concerned, that was little more than an unneeded formality given that his skills were already on full display for herself, and--more importantly, Russell--to see. 

"I-It was a slip of the tongue!" Russell cried out. "I tell you, I know nothing about this gods-damned book!" He approached his desk, pressing his hands against it as he looked down at his work. The anger was starting to surface once again, and Ophilia could tell that she was on the crux of something significant. The Lanthorn shone its agreement, and she hid it beneath her cape to ensure that Russell didn't see.

"I figured you would say as much," Cyrus mused. "Then perhaps you'd care to accompany me to the academy? To prove your innocence, of course." Once again, Ophilia's eyes went wide at Cyrus' skill. It was beyond clear how he had earned his position at the Royal Academy of Atlasdam, and she expected to hear one day that he had accomplished something well beyond what anyone could have anticipated. 

Those words forced Russell to return to his full height, and the rage in his eyes was unrestrained as he glared at Cyrus. "Damn it! Damn it all to hell!" he screamed in anger. He sunk into a combative stance, his hands raised as if he was about to cast magic at Cyrus. As had been true for much of the conversation, Russell chose to ignore Ophilia, seemingly seeing Cyrus as the larger threat out of the two thanks to his blatant verbal assaults against Russell's credibility and innocence. 

"It was the perfect plan!" Russell continued to shriek. "If not for your bloody meddling, I could have had it all! You... You aren't going to get away with this! I won't let you tell the truth! I... I can't let that happen!" The magical energy in the air began to buzz and condense, and Ophilia let out a gasp, realizing what was happening. Russell hadn't been able to escape Cyrus' inquisitions on his own terms, so he was going to fight his way through them regardless of what came of it. 

Ophilia knew deep down that this was because Russell was functioning squarely off of his own adrenaline. He wasn't thinking properly because of his panic, but that was hardly an excuse for what he was about to do. Ophilia was relieved that both she and Cyrus were at least somewhat experienced with combat since it meant they would be able to defend themselves against his onslaught. She feared to think of what would have happened if she or Cyrus was unable to fight back, but she pushed the thought from her mind, knowing that it was nothing more than an intrusive hindrance that would keep her from unleashing her full potential in the battle to come. 

"Ophilia, are you ready?" 

Cyrus' voice pulled Ophilia free of her trance, and she nodded. Both she and Cyrus turned their attention towards Russell once again, and Ophilia watched as the man began to mutter under his breath. She could feel the temperature in the area drop by a few degrees, and she recognized that this was likely a sign of ice magic. 

Sure enough, a few moments later, a few wisps of icy power appeared before her. They reminded her of the spirits that she had encountered on her way to retrieve the Ember and Lanthorn from within the Cave of Origin, and her heart pounded in her chest to show that she was ready for this. Fighting three against one wouldn't be easy, but that wasn't going to stop her from trying. She couldn't leave Cyrus to fight against Russell on his own. It was wrong, and she had to do what she could to help the man who had been so kind to her since her arrival in Atlasdam earlier in the day. 

"It seems he won't listen to reason," Cyrus told Ophilia, and she nodded a second time to show that she agreed. Russell wasn't going to be allowing either one of them to leave the study, so they would simply have to fight their way out. Cyrus was understanding of such a fact as well, and his eyes fell shut for a brief moment. "If that is how it must be, then..."

Cyrus and Ophilia both rushed forward at the same time, staffs raised high above their heads as they prepared for what was to come. This outcome was tragically inevitable, but that wasn't going to stop them from succeeding. They had no choice, and they were going to ensure that the truth was dragged to light after it had festered in the shadows for far too long. 

"Let the battle begin!"

Chapter Text

Cyrus raised his staff as soon as the battle had started properly, and his initial action was to slash his staff in the direction of Russell. Ophilia followed up with a similar strike, though it was clear that neither one of them had been able to do significant damage with the attacks. It was going to take more than that for them to defeat their foe. 

One of the icy wisps that Russell had summoned hit Ophilia next, and she felt cold mount around her body. She managed to break free before she could sustain too much damage, and she concentrated on utilizing the cold that had been sent in her direction. After a few moments of contemplation, Ophilia allowed the energy to burst forth from her fingertips towards Russell and the wisps. 

Even though the magical wisps weren't all that impacted by having their own poison used against them, Russell certainly felt the sting of it, and he stumbled backwards thanks to the icy power. He pushed out a fire attack a moment later, but Cyrus managed to jump backwards before he could be hit. When he retaliated with a heated attack of his own, Cyrus watched as the wisps contorted under the effort that he had expelled. 

"The wisps of ice magic are vulnerable to fire magic. Russell is weak to ice magic and staves," Cyrus told Ophilia as soon as she was close enough to hear him. She nodded in response before unleashing another attack of fire magic. The wisps struggled thanks to her strike, and Ophilia allowed this momentum to carry her into an icy blast in Russell's direction. She could tell that they were all starting to feel the weight of the attacks from Ophilia and Cyrus. 

Both of the icy wisps attacked Ophilia, and she threw up her arms in a last ditch effort to defend herself. She ultimately took damage from the strike, and Cyrus was sent stumbling backwards when Russell reached for a book on the nearby table and threw it in his direction. Cyrus was careful to ensure that the tome was out of the line of fire before he whispered something under his breath and unveiled a strike of ice magic that hit Russell. Ophilia followed up with an attack of fire as soon as she was able to gather her bearings enough to fight back. 

This combination of attacks left both the wisps and Russell vulnerable and struggling to find their composure. Cyrus closed his eyes and concentrated his energy enough to cast a spell of his own, and after a few whispered words, he was able to release an attack of ice. This time around though, there was something more to it, and every part of the room seemed to bow to Cyrus for a few precious moments, almost as if the space accepted that he was its master 

A duo of icy attacks crept across the ground towards Russell, hitting the mage hard. Ophilia closed her eyes and pulled together the magic that she knew better than anything: light. Three columns of bright white illumination formed from nowhere before striking at the wisps and Russell, creating an explosion of sound. "O, sacred light!" Ophilia cried out above the chaos, and the Ember seemed to sing in response. 

By the time that Cyrus had managed to shove a plum in his mouth to replenish the magical energy that was lost in the process of attacking Russell with so much energy, both Russell and the wisps had managed to recover. Russell threw a book at Ophilia this time, and she nearly slipped onto the rocks below. She pulled a plum and a grape from her bag at the same time before forcing herself to eat both at once. The tastes combined into something strange, but Ophilia knew that she didn't have time to linger on it. 

"He's getting ready to charge up for a stronger attack!" Cyrus exclaimed as Ophilia gathered her bearings once again. Both Cyrus and Ophilia locked their eyes onto Russell, and Ophilia could feel the arcane energies slipping under Russell's influence. He was trying to get the power of the room under his control again after Cyrus' attack, but he wasn't anywhere near as Cyrus was where spell casting was concerned, and it was going to get all of them hurt if he wasn't careful. Russell was a specialist in fire magic as far as Ophilia could tell, and the last thing she wanted was for those flames to cause a catastrophe beneath Atlasdam. 

Ophilia turned her attention to lashing out at Russell with ice before following up with a few harsh blows of her staff. Cyrus, on the other hand, seemed to come to life with a new type of energy, and a barrage of lightning spiraled free of his palms towards the wisps of icy magic. This shock was more than enough to leave them dazed. 

Russell had more than enough of Ophilia's constant attacks against him, and he attempted to lash out with a strike of fire in her direction. She took in a deep breath before countering his spell with an ice blast of her own, and the two attacks canceled one another out with a resounding clap. The slamming effect was enough to send Russell sliding backwards across the ground, and his back hit the wall a moment later. Ophilia's boots skidded against the stones below, but she managed to catch herself before she tripped on anything. 

"This is our chance!" Cyrus exclaimed. He took in a grounding breath before pushing out a strike of fire that hit the wisps hard. The icy beings were immediately consumed by the flare, and when the controlled smoke cleared, there was little left behind aside from a pair of snowflakes that quickly faded away due to the heat of the room. By some stroke of a miracle, Cyrus had managed to defeat the wisps of ice, meaning that Russell was the only one left for them to defeat. 

Ophilia allowed the remembered chill of the Frostlands to seep into her bones, leaving her frozen inside and out. The magic that flew free of her fingers, while lacking the same refined and practiced grace of Cyrus' attacks, hit Russell head on. He was barely able to move since the ice was pinning him up against the wall. 

Cyrus took a grounding breath before lashing out with an icy attack of his own. Two strikes flew free, piercing the air and aiding to Ophilia's previous lashing. Russell could barely move from his place pinned against the wall, and when he tried to move his hand to cast a flaming spell, nothing appeared aside from a sad pair of sparks that died out a moment later. The slump of Russell's body that followed immediately after showed that he was fully surrendering, and after a heavy moment where nobody dared to move, Ophilia allowed herself the chance to breathe. The air was so cold compared to the rest of the Flatlands, and had Ophilia not been used to it, the sensation would have been scathing. 

Cyrus didn't seem to mind the chill either, and he held an aura of dignity that was impossible to replicate as he made his way towards Russell. His shoes clicked against the rocks below, and the edges of the stones had started to frost over from the chill. The fire in the hearth was on the verge of flickering out of existence as well. There was a small note of pride to Cyrus' gaze, though Ophilia knew that it was more related to finding the truth than being forced to fight against a colleague. 

"I swear, I never meant to...! I just needed the money!" Russell cried out as Cyrus closed the distance between them. He continued to fight back desperately against his restraints despite understanding that he was no longer at risk of being attacked. 

"That tome would fetch a small fortune. This is true," Cyrus told him with a hum. "And yet, did you not for a moment consider the consequences? In stealing that tome, you would steal from our students something more valuable than all the realm's riches. A grave crime no matter who would perpetrate it, but all the more unforgivable when committed by one who calls himself a scholar." He reached out towards the nearby table, and he picked up the book that had started all of this in the first place. "I had best not be hearing that you have done something of this nature again. Do you understand?"

When Russell responded with a nod and sorrowful, weary eyes, Cyrus exhaled carefully. The ice magic began to recede, and Russell fell to his hands and knees. Cyrus began to move around the study, gathering the other tomes that had been stolen but not yet sold. Most of them were rarely utilized from the main segment of the Royal Library, not valuable enough to be considered for safekeeping within the archives themselves. Ophilia watched Russell carefully, and he stared at her in return. She hid the Ember and Lanthorn under her cape against his critical gaze. 

"Until we meet again," Cyrus told Russell. He walked for the exit of the study, and Ophilia trailed after him. She had a strange feeling that Russell wasn't going to be doing anything of this nature again, and though she had no solid evidence of such a suspicion, her instinct remained intact. She allowed it to push her onwards as she and Cyrus navigated their way out of the study. 

~~~~~

When Cyrus and Ophilia finally arrived above ground, they looked to one another before letting out a shared sigh. "And so the case is resolved," Cyrus told Ophilia with a grand smile. 

"I'm glad that we were able to take care of that before it could become an even larger issue," Ophlia said. The two of them began to walk into the lower part of town, and Ophilia reached into her bag to feel around for a healing grape. When her fingers closed around only two fruit, she realized why it was that Cyrus had guided her in this direction. 

"All that remains is to return this tome to the library," Cyrus murmured. When they arrived at the store, Cyrus reached for leaves in his pocket before handing them to the clerk behind the counter. After a brief exchange, Cyrus thanked the cashier with a jovial smile as he placed the grapes within his own bag. He handed an extra two to Ophilia, and she gave him a grateful nod in response. 

With their business in the lower area of town taken care of, the pair began to move back towards the library. Neither one of them spoke, instead allowing their casual pace to replenish their energy in the aftermath of the battle. Atlasdam was just as bustling as ever, and it didn't even seem to have noticed their absence in the first place. 

After opening the door for them both, Cyrus entered the library and approached Mercedes' desk. Ophilia elected to stand nearby, not wanting to intrude on Cyrus' conversation with Mercedes. He sat the tomes down atop the desk and slowly slid them across the surface towards Mercedes. 

"Well, I'll be! You actually did crack the case of the stolen book!" Mercedes cried out in surprise, lowering her voice as soon as she realized how loud she had been. She noticed that there were multiple volumes soon afterwards, and her shock seemed to keep her from asking any further questions on the matter. 

"That I did. And yet, I fear this may not be the only volume our friend has purloined," Cyrus told her, addressing the other books in the stack. 

"Russell has already confessed to the full extent of his crimes and revealed the names of his business associates. We need only track down the books and purchase them back," Mercedes replied, a grin on her face. "I'll speak to the guards and see that we redouble the security of the archives." Cyrus was left to wonder just how long it had taken for him and Ophilia to make their way through Atlasdam before returning to the library, but he ultimately cast the thought aside. The issue had been resolved, and that was what mattered. 

As Mercedes began to check off the books that had been returned, Cyrus frowned. She was looking at a register of the tomes that had gone missing, and there was still one that she had yet to mark as having come back to the library. "What's this? It says that there's another book still missing. Did that scoundrel of a scholar steal this one as well?" he questioned. 

Mercedes' eyes scanned across the page. "Ah, From the Far Reaches of Hell. No, I can assure you that he did not," she told him. "It's been missing some fifteen years now. Russell's aggressive borrowing only extends some two years back."

"I see... So this volume was lost--or stolen--long before that," Cyrus murmured, more to himself than Mercedes. His hand managed to find a home against his chin, a regularity sign of his curiosity manifesting. 

Mercedes nodded her confirmation. "Right as always, Professor," she said, unwilling to interfere with Cyrus' moment of self-indulgence. Nothing could get through to him when he had such a moment. 

However, much to Mercedes' surprise, this phase didn't last long. After a moment of contemplation, Cyrus pressed his shoulders back. "Pray tell me more about From the Far Reaches of Hell," he requested. 

Mercedes closed her eyes before responding. "According to our records, it would seem to be a compendium of ancient rites and long-lost magics. If I am not mistaken, it was the single oldest volume housed in our archives. Needless to say, it was a tremendous loss."

Cyrus perked up at her words. "Oho! Yet another mystery, it would seem..."

Before either one of them had a chance to continue their conversation, the door to the library opened, and Ophilia nearly jumped out of her skin. Lucia walked inside, casting a judgmental gaze in Ophilia's direction. A moment later, her mercurial gaze returned to Cyrus. "Professor Albright. The headmaster would speak with you at once," she told him, her voice lacking in anything resembling emotion. 

"Again? What could it be this time?" Cyrus questioned. Lucia didn't dignify him with a response, instead leaving the library with the same long glance at Ophilia that she had offered previously. 

"Perhaps he plans to commend you for your role in apprehending the library thief," Mercedes offered, though it was clear by the half-hearted way she provided the commentary that she didn't fully believe in her words either. 

Cyrus shook his head. "I have no interest in accolades. But if he insists..." he muttered. He began to follow Lucia out of the library, and Ophilia started to follow him. He allowed her to trail after him, and while she was lacking in comprehension as to the full situation, she remained ever at his side, not believing this to be the best time for a farewell. 

After they were out in the square, Cyrus turned to Ophilia. "You should stay here. The Royal Academy may not take kindly to your arrival, Flamebearer or otherwise," he told her carefully, his previous frustration melting away. "I'll reunite with you here shortly."

Ophilia nodded, and Cyrus followed in Lucia's footsteps towards the Royal Academy. His mind was racing with a lack of understanding, and before he knew it, he had arrived outside the door to Yvon's office. In his opinion, he had reached his destination all too soon. Cyrus felt as if there was something wrong that he hadn't yet been made aware of, and he hated the way his stomach was already starting to twist with nerves. 

Lucia was waiting for him already, and she knocked her fist gently against the door. "I've brought Professor Albright as asked, sir," she said in her typical monotone voice. She refused to meet Cyrus' eyes. 

"Good. Enter."

Yvon's words cued Lucia to open the door, and Cyrus followed her quietly. Yvon was standing in front of his desk, and somehow, that was a worse sign than seeing him behind the wooden structure. "Thank you, Lucia," he said, voice startlingly even. 

Cyrus dared to venture a step forward. "Yes, Headmaster? What can I do for you?" When Yvon responded by clearing his throat, Cyrus felt his stomach sink into his feet. This wasn't about respect or commendation at all. There was something far more serious at play, and he didn't know if he wanted to know what it was. 

"Professor Albright, a most troubling report has reached my ears," Yvon began. His voice was a slow drawl that made it clear that there was more to this than met the eye. 

"A report, sir?" Cyrus questioned cautiously, suddenly incredibly aware of how loud his heartbeat sounded in his ears. He pleaded with his body to quiet the siren of his darkest nightmares. 

When Yvon walked towards Cyrus, he began to speak, his frustration mounting with each passing word. "An anonymous source claims that you have abused your prestigious position to enter into an illicit relationship with Her Highness the Princess," he said, his crimson eyes gleaming. 

Cyrus stumbled backwards by a foot or so in his surprise. "And you believed this report, sir?" he asked, unwilling to believe that this was the case. He knew that the report was false, but that didn't stop him from feeling the sickening claws of paranoia dig into his mind and body. 

"If it is untrue, then say so," Yvon instructed of him, eyes narrowing. His words were beyond critical, the phrase jagged and harsh beyond explanation. His previous animosity towards Cyrus had only been magnified by these words, it seemed. 

Cyrus' anguish began to mount before releasing itself as an exclamation. He couldn't tell if he was more upset with the one who had started the rumor or Yvon himself for believing that he would ever stoop to such lows as abuse of authority. "Why it is unfounded, unsubstantiated balderdash of the highest order!"

Yvon began to walk towards the window, his gaze uncaring as to Cyrus' please. "I would like to take your words at face value, Professor, but I fear the situation is not so simple," he said. "A rumor about the royal family, even an 'unsubstantiated' one such as this, is sure to spread quickly." The way that he highlighted Cyrus' word was almost sickening, and it seemed as if he enjoyed saying it much more than he had any right to. "If we do not take swift action, Princess Mary's good name could be forever sullied. That is something that simply cannot be allowed to happen. Surely, you understand."

"And so what do you intend to do with me, sir?" Cyrus asked, hating the way that his voice was starting to rise in rage and panic. Yvon's words made it clear that he couldn't remain in Atlasdam, and the idea felt like a punch to the stomach in his moment of anguish. 

"It is not an easy decision to make," Yvon replied nonchalantly, ultimately uncaring as to Cyrus' plight. He walked towards the scholar, his eyes unreadable with something critical. "Dismissing you outright would be tantamount to an admission of guilt."

Lucia took a step towards them, her skirt swishing along the way. "If I may be so bold, Headmaster... How about a sabbatical? Professor Albright is put on extended leave while official accounts state that he's doing fieldwork in a distant land."

Yvon turned to Cyrus. "What say you, Cyrus? This way, both the academy's reputation and your own will remain intact." His tone was as uncaring as always, making it clear that he thought of Lucia's words as simply a convenience more than anything else. 

Cyrus' hands clenched into fists as he looked up to Yvon with anger boiling over. "My reputation?" he echoed. 

"Do we have a problem, Professor?" Yvon asked immediately, making it clear that he wouldn't be taking any objections or criticism. A glare manifested in his eyes as he watched Cyrus critically.

Cyrus allowed himself a smile, his pragmatism taking full effect. Perhaps his wish to spite Yvon was a factor in it, but Cyrus would have never admitted this aloud. He had to remain professional, especially given the claims leveled against him. However, Cyrus didn't dare to say any of this. "Not at all, Headmaster. On the contrary, this might prove the perfect opportunity," he said instead. 

"Opportunity?" Yvon scoffed. "For what?"

"As a matter of fact, there is a subject which has piqued my interest as of late," Cyrus told his superior. "I was just wondering when I might find the time to do a bit of research in the field. I think I will set forth on a journey." Cyrus left out the part about how he was searching for the tome that had disappeared fifteen years prior, and he was certain to not mention that this would involve joining Ophilia on the Kindling. She had wished to keep this information quiet, and he was more than glad to follow her wishes. As a bonus, Cyrus knew that this would be the only way that he would be able to share his findings with the public given Yvon's obsession with knowledge, power, and everything that bridged the two. 

"Is that so?" Yvon questioned carefully.  His eyes crossed in a seamless motion that showed his true power over Cyrus, a strength that was disintegrating with each passing moment. "Do tell, Professor. What is it that you intend to investigate?"

"As regards a certain tome. Now, if you will forgive me, I must begin packing for my journey," Cyrus told him. "Good day to you, Headmaster." With a pivot on his heel and a swish of his cape, Cyrus left the room. The door closed behind him with a flourish. 

Yvon waited until Cyrus was gone before shaking his head. "An enigma as ever, that one," he muttered. Lucia only hummed her response before silence fell upon the room, the weight of the agreement hanging heavily in the air.

~~~~~

It wasn't until after Cyrus had arrived out in the square once again that he saw anyone else of note. Ophilia, who had been waiting for him on a bench, got to her feet. "You're back!" she cried out. 

"I have good news for you, Ophilia," Cyrus told her, a smile spreading across his face. Even when accused of such dreadful acts, he managed to find the best of the situations around him. "I will be joining you on the Kindling after all. Let us simply say that I have been given reason to depart from Atlasdam."

Ophilia's eyes shot up in surprise, and she was on the verge of asking him for the truth when a voice cried out Cyrus' title. Both Ophilia and Cyrus perked up, and when they turned their heads, they could see Therese navigating through the crowd towards them. Ophilia took a respectful step back, allowing Therese to move closer to Cyrus. 

"Oh, Therese," Cyrus said simply. "What is it?" Anyone could see that he was distracted with his plan to explain their departure to Ophilia, but he did his best to concentrate on the conversation at hand. 

"I... I heard that you were leaving the academy," Therese told him, and Ophilia let out a silent gasp, surprised but unwilling to interrupt. Given Cyrus' previous attachment to the academy, this was the last thing she expected. 

Cyrus arched an eyebrow, curious as to how she had managed to acquire such information so quickly. "Then you heard true," he told her, refusing to voice his suspicion openly quite yet. 

Therese gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. "P-Professor... I... I'm so sorry!" she cried out after spending a few moments fumbling for words. 

Realization dawned on Cyrus' face. Suddenly, Therese knowing the truth so soon made much more sense. "I see. So you were the source of the rumor." 

Ophilia's eyes flickered back and forth between the two as Therese continued. "You... You knew?" Therese squeaked in fear, her eyes a shadow of their former bright selves. 

"Not until just this moment, when you apologized," Cyrus replied. His eyes slipped into something that resembled deep hurt and disappointment, enough to break anyone's heart. "And yet, I cannot fathom your motive. Why would you tell such a terrible lie?"

Therese took a step back, her eyes falling to the ground as she refused to meet his gaze. "You're always helping Her Highness. Answering her every question, doing whatever she needs... I just wanted you to pay more attention to me," she confessed. 

"And that's why you went to the headmaster?" Cyrus questioned. 

Therese nodded hesitantly. "Y-Yes... But I... I just wanted to get you in a little trouble..." she murmured. "I didn't think they would... I am so sorry, Professor. Can you ever forgive me?"

Cyrus shook his head with a comforting smile. "Worry not, my dear. It just so happens that I was looking for a good excuse to go on a journey," he assured her. He cast a brief glance in Ophilia's direction, and the cleric forced her mouth shut upon realizing that she had been staring slack jawed. 

"You were?" Therese asked in disbelief. 

"For some time now, I've wanted to travel the realm and see what can be learned beyond these halls," Cyrus explained. "I daresay the timing couldn't have been better. You see, there are certain matters that I simply can't wait to investigate. So fret not, my girl. If anything, you've done me a favor. Besides... I am not entirely without fault in the matter."

Therese tilted her head to the side, prompting Cyrus to continue. "Indeed, I have not been as attentive to you as I should. Had I realized your true intentions sooner, I would not be in this position," he elaborated. 

Therese's hand covered her mouth, and her cheeks went pink with blush. "P-Professor... Whatever do you--"

"If only I had realized how devoted you are to your studies, my dear girl!" Cyrus exclaimed. 

Therese's face fell. "My... Studies."

"I have always striven to treat all my students equally. And yet, Her Highness was always eager to ask questions, and I was all too eager to answer them. In doing so, I may have given the impression that I favored her above you and my other students. This was not my intention, but I am at fault all the same," Cyrus said. He looked down with a light smile. "Yes... If only I had seen you for the ardent and devoted young scholar you are!"

Therese was silent for a long moment before she spoke once more. "Um... Professor?" When he inclined his head in her direction. "Perhaps you're not quite as sharp as I thought you were..." Cyrus expressed confusion for a moment before she shook her head. "Never mind."

"In that case, I should be off. Pray do not shirk your studies, my girl!" Cyrus proclaimed grandly. 

"Yes, Professor..." Therese nodded. Her gaze found Ophilia, and a twinge of jealousy manifested in her pale irises before she forced herself to concentrate on Cyrus once again. "Will... Will I ever see you again?"

"I do not see why not," Cyrus chuckled. "Provided we both still live." He waved to her before walking into the lower segment of Atlasdam, and Ophilia risked a brief glance at Therese before following him. 

Therese took a few steps in the direction of Cyrus and Ophilia, one hand reaching out for Cyrus. After a few moments, she retreated, her eyes falling to the ground. She stared at the last place that she had seen Cyrus for a long while, simply letting the crowd move around her. Time was forgotten, and after a handful of lengthy seconds, tears began to hit the cobbled ground at her feet. 

~~~~~

It wasn't until after Cyrus had packed that he and Ophilia found themselves at the gates of Atlasdam. The full story had been shared with Ophilia, and she watched him carefully with wide blue eyes. "Are you sure that you want to come with me?" she questioned. "The Kindling isn't going to be an easy journey..."

"We're already acquainted, aren't we?" Cyrus asked. "I've always wanted to see the Kindling for myself, and while we are together, I can search for the missing tome that I mentioned previously. We can work together, and perhaps I can teach you more about magic along the way. I'll be looking forward to getting to know you better."

"Alright," Ophilia said with a nod. "We should make for Rippletide next. If all goes well, we can arrive by nightfall... Where is it that you will be going next? Do you have any leads as to where this tome can be found?"

"My former colleague, Odette, knows more about the arcane than any other person I have met. She currently resides in Quarrycrest," Cyrus replied. "If we just so happen to find ourselves in the Cliftlands, we can pay her a visit. For the time being, let us set out for Rippletide." 

Ophilia smiled in his direction, and the two began to walk through the gates of Atlasdam and into the unknown. The red banners of Atlasdam's bridge flapped in the wind, a beacon of pride and new beginnings. The Flatlands stretched out before them, and Cyrus and Ophilia prepared to brace the world together. 

However, unbeknownst to them both, a figure lived in the shadows watching their journey's earliest stages unfold. Darkness seemed to cling to their cape, and when they were certain that they had not been seen, they continued to walk forward. Their intentions were unknown to all, and Cyrus and Ophilia pressed on, ignorant as to the potential danger that thrived behind them. All that mattered was moving onwards together, creating a team that they hadn't expected but loved regardless. Their adventure was beginning anew then and there, and both of them were in love with the mere concept. 

Chapter Text

It was early the following morning, just before the sun could creep its way over the horizon of the Coastlands, that a soul found deep in the heart of Rippletide began to stir. Blankets were tossed aside as a girl sat up, stretching her arms above her head with a mighty yawn. She rubbed at her eyes with one hand before swinging her feet off the side of her bed as she rose to her full height. 

Tressa Colzione threw a brush through her short light brown hair, admiring her brown eyes flecked with green as she passed by the mirror sitting on the wall of her room. She threw on her clothing for the day, straightening out her dress as soon as she got the chance to. After swinging her bag over her shoulders, Tressa reached for her hat. She set it down on her head, making sure that the feather was perked up, standing tall towards the ceiling. A bright smile graced her features as she admired her reflection one last time. "Well, the show isn't going to stock itself!" she declared. She pivoted on her heel and marched out of her room, making her way downstairs. 

Tressa and her parents' kept their rooms on the upper floor of their shop, and when Tressa arrived in the store itself, she could see that both Marina and Olneo Colzione were already ready to face the day. Marina stood behind the counter, straightening the books found there. Olneo, on the other hand, was marking off supplies as he surveyed the store. "Mornin', Ma! Mornin', Pa!" Tressa greeted as she leapt down the final few steps to arrive on the bottom floor properly. Marina gave her a glance of thinly-veiled concern, something fitting of a mother looking after her only child. 

Olneo, on the other hand, didn't seem to mind Tressa's recklessness quite as much. "Mornin', Tressa!" he greeted, looking up from his surveying duties with a grand smile that peeked out from the edges of his darkened mustache. "Looks like our number one employee is ready for another day of work!"

Tressa beamed at her father's open display of pride. "Sure am! And I'll start by stocking up the store," she told him. The supplies were kept in a back room tucked away between the bookshelves behind the counter. She made her way towards the room, giving her mother a curt yet bright nod along the way. 

"Hold your seahorses, little lady," Olneo told her. He pointed his pen at Tressa as he quirked an eyebrow upwards, a clear sign that a challenge was coming. Tell me: what are the three things a merchant needs most?"

Tressa's smile only grew wider. "They need to be smiley, mannerly, and early! Thought you had me, didn't you?" she told him. She walked into the closet and pulled out an extra bundle of grapes and plums before setting them on the corresponding shelf. She laughed over her shoulder, and the jovial sound echoed throughout the store. 

Olneo laughed and shook his head. "You're too clever for me, Tressa. Now, off you go! We need a few fish for today's stock," he told her. He returned to inventory soon afterwards, marking down the new supplies that Tressa had retrieved from the back closet. 

"Leave it to me, Pa!" Tressa declared, saluting to her father over her shoulder as she strutted proudly towards the door. 

"Be careful out there, Tressa!" Marina called out to her daughter, ever the worrier after her daughter's close brush with slipping earlier that morning. "Oh, those pirates have been causing trouble around the tavern lately. If you see them, you be sure to keep a wide berth, you hear?"

Tressa nodded. "Got it, Ma. Be back in two ripples of the tide!" she announced. She closed the distance between herself and the door before pushing it open and leaving the store behind. 

After Tressa had left the store behind, Olneo took a few steps forward with a humored chuckle and a shake of his head. "There she goes," he remarked. "She reminds me of myself when I was that age... Always running off somewhere, wanting to prove myself a full-fledged merchant."

Marina scoffed and shook her head before returning to the shelves behind her. "Don't flatter yourself, dear. Our Tressa is something special," she told her husband. 

Olneo wasn't offended in the slightest at his wife's words, instead simply shaking his head. "That she is," he agreed. "That she is."

~~~~~

Tressa was quickly able to navigate her way through Rippletide, humming a tune to herself. The rest of the town was starting to wake up. Bakers got ready to put out their supply for the day, fisherman hauled in their new catches, and merchants opened their doors for customers. Tressa always loved seeing Rippletide in the morning; there was something strangely heartwarming about being able to see so many people come together this way. 

As Tressa passed over the bridge leading to the other half of town consisting of docks to the Central Sea and stalls for smaller merchants, she began to glance around the area, doing her best to catch sight of her target. Eventually, her gaze narrowed in on a man who Tressa had been seeing at least once a week for most of her life. Walter the fisherman was the best of his trade in Rippletide, and as he maneuvered his haul of fish for the day, he turned his attention to his stall. Once he was settled, he rubbed a hand over his head. 

When he noticed Tressa was there, the fisherman perked up. "Well, if it isn't the hardest-working merchant in town!" he declared. "You even beat some fisherman to the pier!"

"Don't sound so surprised!" Tressa told him with a laugh that Walter quickly joined in on. "We both know the early bird gets the worm, or in our case, the fish!" She looked down to the fish that he had managed to catch, her eyes immediately scanning through them. She tried to figure out which one she would wind up purchasing for the day, doing her best to find the fish that she suspected would be best. 

"You're darn right it does! Well, here's the catch of the mornin'," Walter told Tressa, gesturing down towards the fish so that Tressa could get a clear view of them. Tressa continued to watch the fish before Walter reached down to pick up one of his prey. He held the fish out to Tressa, waiting for her judgement. 

Tressa's first response was to hum to herself, her expression contorting with inquisition. "Blue marlin, I see," she observed to herself, not expecting a response from Walter. "A big one, too, with lots of good meat on its bones." After a moment of contemplation, she shoved her hand into the wallet hanging from her belt, pulling out the number of leaves that she felt would be appropriate. "I can give you this much for it."

Walter's expression moved to uncertainty. "It's worth a little more than that. This one's a whopper!" He continued to look at the leaves in Tressa's hand, almost as if he expected other coins to magically appear during Tressa's confident presentation. 

Tressa's bright smile slipped into a frown. "I guess I'll just have to take my business elsewhere then," she mused aloud, knowing exactly where this was going. This back and forth, while not too overtly common between her and Walter, was certainly something that she was experienced in to some degree. She dropped her leaves back into their pouch before taking the fish between her fingers. "Your hook snagged its innards. I was willing to overlook the damage, but..."

Walter perked up at that. After a moment of thinking, he sighed and shook his head. "Fine. You got yourself a deal," he told her, dejection clear on his face. He accepted the fish back from Tressa, waiting for her to produce her payment once more. 

Tressa snapped back to her happy and chipper persona immediately. "Pleasure doin' business with you!" she exclaimed, happily exchanging the leaves for the fish. She turned on her heel to leave, but she was ultimately cut off when Walter continued speaking. 

"You drive a hard bargain," he muttered to himself. "You're a born natural at negotiating. I was wrong to underestimate you." Walter returned to his work soon afterwards, shaking his head quietly. This was the hardest that Tressa had ever pushed in their back and forth exchange of money and goods, and it was almost impossible for him to believe that he had been left this way by someone as young as eighteen.

"You got that right!" Tressa agreed with a bright grin. "I may not look like much, but I can haggle with the best of them." She looked down at the fish just to prove her point, and the blue marlin stared back at her in response. 

"I learned my lesson," Walter assured her. He reached one hand up to wave at her. "Well, don't be a stranger!" He held out a piece of cloth, allowing Tressa to use it to wrap the fish inside. Soon afterwards, he returned to his work in full once again, a cue for Tressa that it was time to depart. 

"I won't! Thanks again!" Tressa sang out. She was gone soon afterwards, off on her merry way back towards her family's shop. She forced herself to look away from her prize as her next thoughts of business began to appear. "Next up, wine!"

Tressa's journey through Rippletide was a simple one as she approached the beverage vendor. She was on far less personal terms with him compared to Walter, so she simply pointed to the bottle of mead that she needed. The wine in question was sitting on a shelf behind the vendor within his booth. "I'd like that one, please," Tressa told him with a confident nod. 

The vendor pulled the bottle down as Tressa dropped her leaves onto the counter. "Here you are," he told her simply. "It'll be fifty leaves..." His gaze dropped down to the leaves that Tressa had already placed down, and he realized too late that his words had been somewhat redundant. 

"Pleasure doing business with you!" Tressa proclaimed. The merchant gave her a brief nod as she tucked the bottle under her arm. In the blink of an eye, she was off on her merry way once again, humming a familiar Coastlands tune under her breath. 

"Another day, another deal!" Tressa muttered to herself once she was out of the range of the vendor hearing her. With a humored laugh, she continued. "A deal so good it was practically a steal!" She permitted herself a few moments to chuckle openly as she admired the fruits of her labor. "This oughta liven up our little shop!" 

Tressa had stopped on the bridge leading into the other part of town away from the docks when she spoke once again. A bittersweet sigh escaped her lips as she looked out over the Central Sea from her place atop the bridge. The salty oceanic wind graced the air, rustling her hair gently. "Our little shop..." she whispered, her voice full of wistful nostalgia. "Just me, Ma, and Pa... If I don't take over, who will?"

Tressa looked over the ocean once again, and she closed her eyes for a moment. She would have been lying if she said that she had never dreamed of seeing what rested beyond the shores of Rippletide. The small port town had been the backdrop of her childhood, the scenery in which she grew up, but she wanted more. It was strange for someone so content to yearn for what rested beyond the borders of her small town, but that was all Tressa could think about as she got older. 

It wasn't that she disliked Rippletide. That couldn't have been further from the truth. In fact, Tressa loved the place that she had grown up in, and she wouldn't have traded her time in Rippletide for anything in the world. However, there was much more out there beyond the limits of a port city known for its bustling trade. Across another sea, there was Goldshore. Beyond that, Grandport waited, and that was only within the Coastlands. Saintsbridge, Atlasdam, Quarrycrest, Victors Hollow... All of them were waiting for her, and Tressa wished that she had the power to depart and see what they had in store. 

But she couldn't just leave. Nothing was ever that simple. Her family was counting on her to take over the store. If she didn't take up the mantle, nobody else would. The Colzione family store had been important to Tressa for as long as she could remember, and she couldn't simply abandon it. At the same time, if she didn't leave Rippletide, she would never be able to see the world, and her dreams would be left unfulfilled. 

Tressa leaned over, bracing her elbows against the railing of the bridge. "The ocean is so vast..." Tressa muttered without realizing she was speaking. Boats continued to bob across the Central Sea, some closer than others. Fishers traveled across the surface of the water, preparing to catch their prey for the morning. Large ships could be seen cresting the ocean in the distance, obscured by the spray and fog that came inherently with the shore. 

Tressa's eyes slipped shut as she imagined just what was out there. She had only heard stories of other towns and cities, greedily swallowed through eager ears when visitors came from far-flung lands. Each new tale sparked new ideas in Tressa's mind, and she didn't think that she would be able to ignore them any longer. Everything was a dreamlike haze as she envisioned what it would have been like to see other towns across Orsterra. 

Rippletide was only one corner of the continent. There was so much out there that she had yet to encounter, and Tressa couldn't wait to see what was waiting for her. That required leaving Rippletide in the first place though, and no matter how hard she tried, something always held her back. She cared too much for her shop and her parents to simply leave and travel the world. So much rested on her shoulders regardless of if she chose to acknowledge it or not, and Tressa didn't think that she would ever be able to escape that weight. It sure didn't stop her from dreaming though. 

"What lies beyond the horizon?" Tressa questioned of the ocean and the dawning sky, not expecting an answer but asking anyways. The sea rippled and lapped against the base of the bridge in response, almost as if it was whispering to her tales of a life that she would never be able to make her own. The water had seen so much more than she had, and Tressa wished that, for but a fleeting moment, she could become a droplet herself, simply drifting until life presented itself before her young eyes that yearned for wonder and dreams that could never be. 

Tressa realized belatedly how shortsighted she had been. In staring out at the horizon, she had completely missed a boat that was coming towards the docks. The ship was enormous, much larger than anything that Tressa was used to seeing. She pulled the fish and wine closer to her chest, eyes wide in surprise. What would the captain of a giant boat like that want with a small town like Rippletide?

"Drop anchor!"

Tressa's eyes rose towards the boat once again, and the ringing of the bells on the surface of the deck echoed throughout the port of Rippletide. it was an impressive vessel, though that felt like an understatement in Tressa's eyes. "I haven't seen that ship around here before... I wonder where it came from," she murmured to herself. Tressa pushed herself back up to her full height, ready to investigate the new arrival. The fish and wine remained tucked in her grasp neatly, but at that moment, her last thought was of taking them back to the store. The boat was seemingly calling to her, beckoning her to draw nearer with the promise of adventure. 

Somehow, the boat only seemed to get bigger the closer that Tressa got to it. She stood beside the boat on the docks, her neck craned backwards as she tried to fully take in the scope of the ship. She would have voiced her admiration, but she was speechless, unable to force herself to speak no matter how hard she tried. 

Meanwhile, a man wearing ornate blue clothing stepped off the boat, using a single diagonal plank as his way onto the docks of Rippletide. His hair was blonde and long, part of it covering one eye while the rest fell upon his back simply. "What a dreary town..." the man murmured to himself. He turned to walk towards the rest of town, seeing Tressa along the way. She hadn't yet noticed him, too caught up in her awestruck state to even think of looking away from the boat. The man let out a chuckle. Something about her caught his attention even with the daily bustle of Rippletide's fishermen, and he could tell that there was something about Tressa that was far from being ordinary. "But it carries a delectable scent. Its cuisine may be promising."

The man was halfway down the docks when he noticed that Tressa was still staring at the boat. "What's the matter, lass? You look like a fish out of water," the man commented with a humored chuckle under his breath. 

Tressa was silent for a moment longer before she turned to face the man, a frown on her face. "Is this a trading ship?" she questioned. 

The man nodded as he took a step toward her. "Indeed. And I am its captain," he explained. Up close, Tressa was given a better view of the man. His blue cape flowed in the breeze behind him, making him seem so much more regal than any trader had any right to. 

"Well, Captain, the name's Tressa. I'm a merchant in this town," Tressa explained. After a moment of hesitation, she shoved the wine and fish together into the crook of her arm before extending her other hand towards the man, a careful yet charming smile on her face. 

The man smiled in return when he shook her hand. "A pleasure to meet you," he replied. A deep blue scarf obscured the bottom half of his face, so Tressa didn't catch the upwards quirk of his lips. 

Tressa had already turned back to face the ship when she next spoke. "I'm sure you have all kinds of neat cargo onboard," she remarked. When she looked back in the man's direction, she had a mischievous grin on her face. "Say, would you mind if I take a peek? I'd love to see what you've brought from overseas."

The man laughed once more. "You have a true merchant's eye, lass. You gaze at a simple trading ship as if it were made of solid gold," he commented. Tressa beamed in response. The man shrugged, his smile slipping away from his features. "Alas, I only allow passage to those I trust."

Tressa's face fell, her expression slipping into something crestfallen. "Aww..." she whimpered to herself. She looked like a child that had been denied the chance to receive candy between her wide eyes and the way her bottom lip stuck out from the rest of her face. 

Before the man could properly respond, the sound of something breaking ruptured the air. Tressa jumped so suddenly that she almost dropped the fish and wine in her hands, and it was only when the man threw out one arm to keep her steady that she managed to regain her balance. She was too distracted by the noise to offer him her thanks. "What was that?!" Tressa yelped as soon as she had somewhat found her composure once more, but it was clear as could be that she was still shaking if anyone looked closely. 

"I'll go check it out!" Tressa proclaimed next. She took off in the direction of the main segment of town soon afterwards, all thoughts of boarding the ship forgotten in the blink of an eye. The ground beneath her groaned until she was on the cobbled stones of the street rather than the wood of the docks. 

The man watched her vanish from sight before shaking his head to himself. "Busy as a bream, that one," he murmured, thinking about how quickly her outlook had changed when a distraction appeared. He didn't linger for long though, instead making his way back towards his ship to make sure that he was ready to stop in the town and exchange his wares for leaves. 

Tressa, meanwhile, weaved through the people of Rippletide with far more effort than she expected to need. There were three types of figures in the crowd, she found. One group was stuck in their places, still as a statue due to the threat of loud noises in the distance. Another set of people ran towards the sound of the ruckus while the final group moved away from it. With all three types of people interspersed in the area at random, Tressa was left to struggle as she pushed her way through the crowd. 

Her height worked against her, and Tressa elevated herself onto her toes to make sure that she could get as solid a view of the town square as possible. It appeared that the heart of Rippletide had been the origin point of the noise judging by how many people were gathered in a mighty circle around whatever had caused the sound. 

After pushing her way through another group of people, Tressa stumbled to the front of the crowd, giving her a perfect view of the center of town. She realized belatedly that this wasn't a good thing, seeing that the people in the area all wore expressions of pure fear. Tressa's heart started to speed its pace in her chest, and she held her fish and wine closer to her chest. She had an awful feeling about this, and even if she didn't know for sure what had happened, she knew that she was going to be finding out sooner or later for better or worse. Why did she feel like the truth would fall into the latter category? 

An older man was on one knee, his hands braced against his upper leg. Judging by the way that he shook, it seemed as if he had been shoved to the ground and left to struggle. He wore the clothing of a merchant, and Tressa vaguely recognized that she had bought a few wares from him over her years of assisting in the Colzione store. "Don't! I beg of you!" the man pleaded, his voice strained beyond description. "That's all I have left!"

Two pirates stood nearby, and Tressa watched them with thinly-veiled surprise. Her eyes were wide as could be, and she had to actively force her heart to stop screaming in her chest. One of the pirates was tall and lanky while the other was smaller and fell on the portly side. Both of them wore the typical garb that Tressa expected of pirates, and large cutlass blades hung from their waists in lazy sheaths. Tressa took an instinctive step back at the sight of them, but when she collided with a person standing behind her, she was forced forward once again. 

When a voice rang out, it came from the lanky pirate. His voice was high in pitch, and his laugh grated on Tressa's nerves. "Then we be in the same boat, matey," the pirate told the old man. His eyes told a story that lacked remorse, and he almost seemed tempted to shove the older merchant aside once again just for the fun of it. 

In fact, the pirate did rush forward, and he pushed the old man backwards with another laugh that pierced the air in a way that made Tressa feel like she was going to be sick. "We got nothin' left ourselves. Ain't that right, Makk?" the lanky pirate asked, turning towards his smaller comrade. 

The other pirate, Makk, nodded his agreement. "Aye, Mikk. And when we be needin' somethin', we be takin' it. That's what pirates do, after all," he said firmly. All of a sudden, the blade hanging from his waist seemed to gleam even more ominously than before, and it took every ounce of resolve that Tressa had to not rush in and fight back against the pirates to save the older man. She didn't stand a chance without any weapons, but her sense of justice burned white hot inside of her all the same. 

The street vendor stammered in response, horror in his eyes. The lower leg of his trousers was starting to cloud with crimson, and Tressa realized that he had skinned his knee when he was pushed previously. "Please, have mercy..." the man murmured to himself, tears starting to cloud over in his vision. 

The pirates only continued to laugh, and another person wearing similar clothing burst through the crowd. Tressa assumed that this was a third pirate in their gang, and her mind was cast back to the infinite warnings that she had heard about the nearby pirates. She had known that they were there for quite some time, but Tressa never would have expected them to act so boldly in the light of the town square. There were countless people watching, but the pirates didn't seem to care in the slightest. 

"Captain! I got the goods from that there shop!" the newcomer pirate declared as he pointed to a nearby store. Tressa felt a bitter sense of relief upon noticing that it wasn't her parents' shop that had been ransacked. She didn't want it to have happened to her parents, but she would have preferred that nothing would have happened at all. 

Both Mikk and Makk went to respond to him, but they noticed that the other was replying soon afterwards. They turned their gazes towards one another, and their eyes were filled with acid. The tension in the air grew thicker, and Tressa could have sworn that the coastal air rose in temperature at least slightly. 

"There be only one captain around here, and it be me," Mikk practically snarled as he took a step towards Makk, jabbing his thumb into his own chest. His height advantage over Makk was suddenly even more notable than before. 

Makk responded with a noisy scoff, not at all intimidated by his comrade's attempts at threatening him. "Ha! Everyone knows I be the captain and you're me first mate!" Makk declared. 

"We'll see about that, Makk, ye scurvy swine!" Mikk announced. He reached for the sword at his hip, and Makk did much the same. The blades gleamed silver in the morning sunshine as their hilts were shifted away from their sheaths, a sure sign that combat was coming. 

"Aye, we will, Mikk, you scabby-bottomed sea bass!" Makk agreed. He sunk into a combat stance as well, his eyes narrowing with hatred. His blade was fully removed from its home as he leveled it at Mikk. 

"Can't ye both be the captain?" the third pirate asked carefully, clearly used to this sort of bickering from the two. He sounded both exhausted and thoughtful, making it clear that he had placated this same argument many times in the past. 

After a moment of tense silence, the pirates rose to their full heights. "Fine. Now show us what other treasure ye be hiding!" Mikk declared, giving one final shot of a glare towards Makk before focusing on the situation at hand. 

Despite every instinct inside of her screaming to stay quiet, Tressa took a step out into the square. "Hey! Stop that!" she proclaimed angrily. She was practically shaking in her rage, but she forced herself to stay grounded. 

"Says who?!" Mikk roared as he turned to face her. Even with his blade back in its place at his hip, he was still a frightening figure, and the crowd seemed to recoil when he raised his voice in such rage. 

"Says me!" Tressa snapped back. Her anger kept her from feeling fear, and she allowed it to numb the anxiety creeping into the edges of her mind. "The people here are merchants and fishermen doing all they can to put food on the table! Have a heart! Don't steal what little they have from them!"

"How's this for heart? I'll give you one chance to shove off, kid," Mikk said sternly, taking a single step towards Tressa. His cutlass continued to gleam in the sunshine, and the outline of dried blood could be seen if the angle was correct. 

"But I--"

"Best be on your way, little one. We're doing grown-up business here," Makk told her, interrupting Tressa with a tone that went far beyond condescending. A collective shudder passed through the crowd. 

"I'm not going anywhe--"

Tressa was cut off for a second time when Mikk continued speaking. "Well, well. What ye got there, kid?" he questioned with open yet terrifying curiosity. He walked towards her slowly, each step making his shadow stretch further over Tressa's body. 

"It's rainbow wine! And it be ours now!" Makk proclaimed boldly. With a single punch to the shoulder, he sent Tressa falling to her knees, and from there, it was easy for him to snatch the wine and fish from her grasp without any issues. 

Tressa was still on the ground when Mikk came to stand above her. "A brat like you wouldn't appreciate it none anyways," he pointed out. He looked ready to snatch the bottle and pop the cork off then and there. 

Makk towered over Tressa as well a second later, his eyes endlessly demeaning as he watched her like she was an animal trapped in a cage. "We're doin' you a right favor by taking it off your hands. Now say 'thank you'," he demanded. 

Tressa snarled as she lunged towards the wine. "Give it back!" she cried out. She was cut off by another punch, this time to the stomach, that sent her spiraling downwards. Her arms rested around her midsection as she tried to fend off the pending wave of nausea coming for her. 

"That's enough, lass."

Tressa was vaguely aware of a new person appearing behind her, and she looked up to see the captain from before standing at her side. Tressa was left in his shadow as the pirates took a step away from her. "But--" Tressa tried to protest. 

The captain held up a single hand to silence her. "You've got pluck, I'll give you that," he told her deliberately. "But they don't look like the types who will listen to reason. You understand me?" His words were clearly meant to calm Tressa and end the conflict before it could grow worse, and while she knew that he was acting in her safety and best interest, she still hated being held back.

Makk let out a hearty laugh. "That lily-livered scalawag knows what he's talkin' about, kid," he told Tressa. "Best take his advice to heart. In this world, the strong take while the weak quake." He and the rest of the pirates began to laugh, but the captain's eyes were simply filled with somber regret. 

Mikk waved as he started to walk past them. "Thank ye kindly for the loot, ye deck-wetting worms!" he proclaimed obnoxiously. He offered a snarky salute to the man, undeterred by the intense stare that he was receiving from the captain.

"Aye! It's been a bloody pleasure!" Makk agreed. Both he and Mikk allowed their shoulders to collide roughly with the captain's body as they passed by, but the man in blue refused to stumble, instead only glaring at them out of the corner of his eye as they vanished from sight. His scarf hid his frown from sight.

Tressa, meanwhile, remained on the stones of Rippletide, doing her best to keep tears of humiliation from prickling at her eyes. The laughter of the pirates continued to ring in her ears, and she could have sworn that she saw red as her hands clenched into fists. 

A single tear slid onto the street. 

Chapter Text

As soon as she could bear it, Tressa hauled herself back onto her feet. She rubbed away tears of upset with the back of her hand, doing her best to keep a scowl on her face rather than the fear that she felt would be more appropriate to express. The pirates were long gone by this point, and the crowd surrounding her had burst into chatter about the events that had just transpired. Others sent her glances of sympathy, but they just made Tressa want to melt into the ground and disappear more than ever. 

A hand came down on her shoulder once again. "There's no need to pretend, lass," the captain said from behind her, his voice as soothing and gentle as the ocean itself. "Your legs are trembling."

"I-It's just a cramp... That's all," Tressa forced herself to say despite how obvious the lie was. Of course the man would be able to see that she was afraid. Why was she even bothering to hide it in the first place?

The captain narrowed his eyes. "Not even the best merchant can buy back their life once it's taken from them," he pointed out. His gaze made it clear that he didn't want her to even think of pursuing the pirates. 

Even though Tressa knew it was because he was looking out for her, she still felt anxiety and red-hot anger boiling up inside of her. "I know, but..." she said through gritted teeth. She wanted to go after them, to take what she had lost and avenge those who the pirates had hurt, but she didn't know if that was an option in the first place. 

Shuffling came from behind Tressa, and she turned to see the old vendor from before walking towards her. His eyes were filled with rage, and he looked to the places where Tressa's knees were scuffed angrily. She hadn't even noticed that bruises were starting to form on her legs from when she had been forced to the ground. 

"Why won't they just leave us alone? Those pirates should be out at sea!" the man said, pulling Tressa away from her thoughts immediately. "Instead, they're holed up in the Caves of Maiya, west of town. They shouldn't be harassing us, but here they are, making everyone miserable for their own amusement." He turned back to his stand, which had been utterly ravaged by the reach of the pirates. "What do I do now...?" His eyes were best described as hopeless, and he appeared to be on the verge of either exploding with grief or anger. Perhaps it would be a blend of both.

The people in the town exploded into chatter after that, and they began to disperse. Tressa wasn't sure of when the captain left his place behind her, but she knew that he had disappeared at some point. She growled in anger, finally allowing her anguish to be laid to rest, as she started to storm off towards the west side of Rippletide. If those pirates were in the Caves of Maiya, then she was going to fight them off. Tressa liked to think that she was good with a spear and a bow. Her father had taught her how to use both, and she had picked up on wind magic over the years thanks to parchments that other vendors sold in town. She would be able to defend herself if they came after her. It seemed that the pirates were more concerned with their wealth than with killing the people of Rippletide, so Tressa thought that it was at least somewhat safe to assume that she would be fine. 

She weaved through the people of the crowd, her shoes making rough and angry contact with the cobblestones below. The docks came into view soon afterwards, but rather than turning to investigate the ships, she went straight to the place where the notable streets of Rippletide gave way to the haphazard rocks of the path leading to the Caves of Maiya. She had seen the route there many times, but she had never thought to travel through it until that moment. She had never thought that she would be given a reason, and yet, there she was. 

"Going somewhere, lass?"

The voice of the captain behind her made Tressa turn, her eyes narrowing with determination. Her hands were pressed against the straps of her bag as a way of releasing excess stress that she was unsure of how to get rid of otherwise. As far as she could tell, he had been caught up in the crowd, but the way that he watched her made it clear that he had always been intending on seeing what she got up to in the aftermath of the pirates' antics. Maybe he was perceptive enough to know that this was Tressa's plan. It certainly wouldn't surprise her given what she had already seen. 

"Captain..." Tressa whispered, letting the word fly away before it was stolen on the coastal morning breeze. She shook it off before taking another two steps in the direction of the path to the caves. 

The captain hummed his disproval. "If I didn't know better, I would say you were setting a course straight for the pirates' den. Awfully rash, wouldn't you say?" he questioned, taking one step closer to her. 

Tressa hesitated, hiding her eyes beneath the brim of her hat by looking down. "I know, but..." When she looked up to him, determination glittered in her gaze bright and proud. 

"And still you intend to go, I see," the captain commented, his abilities of perception once again showing themselves to be beyond impressive. Tressa nodded, and he continued soon afterwards. "That must mean that you have a foolproof plan of attack. And a weapon, of course. You wouldn't dare go empty-handed, would you? Only a fool would think that they can haggle their wares back from dastardly pirates."

The captain's words were spoken clearly and precisely. He knew what he was doing and what kind of impact it would have on Tressa. She realized as he spoke that she had no plan, no weapon, and no way to be sure that this would work at all. She snarled under her breath, though it was more at the pirates than the captain. After all, he certainly had a point, and Tressa couldn't fault him for trying to help her. "I know, but I can't just sit by and do nothing!" she cried out. She remembered the old man and how shattered he had looked as he stared at the remnants of his stand that the pirates had ransacked. "Those poor people might starve if they don't get their belongings back! On my honor as a merchant, I can't let them get away with this!"

Tressa's voice was explosive and percussive as she stared intently at the captain. He returned her gaze for a long moment before he smiled to himself. "A fine choice of words, lass," he commented. Tressa's eyes went wide as she sputtered her surprise at his approval as he continued to speak. "Aye. If you're so determined, I won't stop you... On the condition that you let me help."

Tressa's eyes went wide with confusion. She was more than fine with having him by her side, but she wasn't sure about how he would be able to help her in the first place. "How so?" she questioned. The captain certainly didn't seem like a fighter, so was he intending to help her out through means of combat?

"I'm willing to part with some of my wares if you think they will prove useful on your journey," the captain replied. "If there's something that catches your eye, consider it yours... For the right price, of course."

Tressa beamed as she stuck her hand out for him to shake. "Deal!" she proudly proclaimed. The captain smiled to himself from behind his scarf as he shook her hand, and Tressa was surprised at how worn and calloused his palms were. They certainly didn't fit his appearance as a serene and peace-loving merchant, but she wasn't about to complain. If she was going to receive his help, then the details didn't matter. After all, they had a job to do, and they couldn't hold it off for long if they wanted to strike before the pirates could continue their reign of terror over the people living within the boundaries of Rippletide. 

Here we go, Rippletide! I'm going to make sure that nothing like this ever happens again! That's a promise!

~~~~~

Cyrus and Ophilia had arrived at Rippletide late the previous night, and they were able to get a nice night of sleep before they woke up the following morning. Cyrus had been more than happy to pay for one room with a bed for each of them. As soon as they had finished packing their things again for the journey ahead, Cyrus offered the suggestion of them going deeper into town to see if they could find anything that could help them from then on. 

That was when Cyrus and Ophilia saw the pirates at the heart of Rippletide. They had been near the back of the crowd, far from the eyes of others within the town, but they were able to see more than enough. The urge to interfere was ultimately quelled when they realized that there was a chance their magic would strike the townspeople as well if they weren't careful. There were simply too many onlookers, and their powers of the arcane wouldn't be accurate enough to defeat the pirates while not harming any of the people watching the scene with terror in their eyes. 

Ophilia had not moved since the crowd fully dispersed, and she looked up to Cyrus with determination shining brightly in her blue eyes. "We have to do something about this," she told Cyrus. "We can't just leave these people while they're suffering so much. Those pirates have done so much to hurt them, and... I want to do what I can to help them in return."

Cyrus nodded in response. "I agree. We must offer our assistance to the townsfolk, though I have no idea how we would go about doing such a thing... We were unable to see where the pirates disappeared to because of the crowd. Perhaps we can ask around and see if someone would be able to pass along the information that we require..."

Rippletide was a bustling place, but that didn't stop Ophilia and Cyrus from moving through the crowd as quickly as they could manage. There had to be someone around there who would be able to tell them about where the pirates were staying, and as soon as they got their hands on that information, it would be over for Mikk, Makk, and anyone else working with them to terrorize Rippletide. The pirates' remaining time of tyranny was counted in hours. 

~~~~~

Tressa smiled proudly to herself as she looked at the herbs she had managed to purchase from a merchant on the captain's ship. She held her prize above her head, unable to keep herself from grinning. This was going to work nicely to pulling off her plan. She hadn't been able to come up with anything effective until after she saw the weed in the hands of the other merchant, but all of a sudden, the key pieces were slipping into place, and Tressa was going to be sure that this ended well for her.

The captain raised an eyebrow from his place nearby. "And what would you need sleepweed for?" he questioned curiously. He was obviously acquainted with the herb given that someone he knew was selling it; sleepweed was known for triggering unconsciousness as soon as it was ingested, and it would certainly work against the pirates. After all, if it was blended with other liquids, the weed would dissolve and become one with its surroundings. If a drink was made from it and given to the pirates, then Tressa would be able to slip in, take back the wares that had been stolen, and get out before any trouble could start brewing. She wouldn't be able to fight the pirates in their home territory, especially when she didn't know how many there were, so this was her best shot at victory.

"I'm sure those pirates must be exhausted after all that looting," Tressa told the captain with a cheeky grin. "So I thought I'd help them relax by slipping some of this into their wine." She waved the sleepweed through the air with a mischievous wink. 

The captain immediately burst into laughter. "You're a clever one, aren't you?" he asked. He shook his head once he managed to regain his composure. "Off you go then. And be safe out there, lass."

Tressa nodded, ready to retreat back into the deeper areas of Rippletide to retrieve a container of wine that would be suitable for her plan. "Thank you!" she exclaimed. She paused after taking a step though, and she turned around to face the captain once again. "By the way, Captain... Why are you helping me?" This was a burning matter of curiosity that Tressa simply didn't know how to settle. Part of her simply knew that there was more to the captain than met the eye, and that left her wondering what it was that made her stick out to him. After all, there were countless other merchants in the town, and he had hardly gotten attached to any of them in comparison to his dynamic with Tressa. 

The captain smiled as he tapped his temple knowingly. "Because my eye tells me to do so," he explained simply. "As a fellow merchant, I'm sure you understand. We appraise with our eyes, and mine tell me that there's something special about you."

Tressa felt like she was glowing as she looked down at the ground. "I see..." she commented to herself. This was unlike any compliment that she had ever received previously, and she would have been lying if she said that she didn't greatly enjoy hearing the captain sing her praises in such a manner. "Thank you, Captain." She gave him one final nod before pivoting on her heel and running back through Rippletide in the direction of the tavern. 

~~~~~

By the time that Tressa arrived, both Cyrus and Ophilia were already inside, standing near the wall far from the activity elsewhere in the bar. They watched Tressa carefully and wordlessly as she finished making her blend of sleepweed and wine to give to the pirates. She had easily been able to get her hands on the wine when she promised the barkeeper that she would make sure that the pirates never caused a ruckus again, and all the pieces fell into place swiftly from there. Everyone in the tavern was staring at her by now, but this attention felt different from what she had endured that morning. She felt on top of the world, and everyone else was simply an audience to her grand show of justice. 

"That should do the trick," Tressa smiled to herself as she examined the wine one last time. The mixture was perfect, and there were no traces of sleepweed on the surface of the fluid. That was a sign that she had done everything right, so all that remained was for her to give the wine to the pirates and wait for them to all curl up for a nap while she took back what rightly belonged to the people of Rippletide. "Now to make a special delivery to the Caves of Maiya!"

Tressa replaced the lid on the vat of wine and curled her arms around the surface of the barrel before attempting to hoist it into her grasp fully. She managed to get about halfway there before she was cut off by a set of footsteps moving closer to her. Tressa looked up with a frown on her face, and she was met with the curious faces of none other than Ophilia and Cyrus. "Huh? Is there something that you two need?" she asked. She hadn't seen their faces around Rippletide before, and she was sure that she would have recognized them. Even among the strange crowd of people that came and went through the merchant town, they were distinctive thanks to their odd attire. 

"You are going to eliminate the pirates that have been causing problems for this town, yes?" Cyrus questioned as he looked at Tressa with poorly-hidden curiosity. When she nodded, a smile appeared across his features. "I'm glad to hear it! Ophilia and I would like to join you on your quest, if that would be alright with you. We witnessed your confrontation against the pirates earlier this morning, and we would like to play our part in saving this town from their tyranny."

Tressa gasped. "You would really do that?" she questioned. She had been attracting all sorts of odd attention that day, it seemed. First, it was the captain, and then came these two strange people. She wasn't complaining in the slightest, of course, knowing that she could use all the help that she could get. If something went south and she had to fight against the pirates, it would be for the best if she had backup. After all, her skills with a bow and spear would only be able to get her so far. She had purchased weapons from the captain's merchants earlier in the day, but she could tell that if she was going to have to fight, she would need the extra aid. 

"Of course!" Ophilia chimed in, her eyes bright with determination. "We thought that what happened this morning was awful, and... We wanted to do what we could to help out, but we couldn't figure out where the pirates went. We lost them in the crowd, but we heard your voice and knew that you stood up to them. It would be our honor to chime in and help you on this mission... If you would have us, that is."

"I'd love to have your help!" Tressa assured them. She set the container of wine down and propped one of her arms against the top of it. She could use the help in taking the wine to the pirates' hideout as well, and since it was so heavy, an added set of hands would make everything much easier. Having two people on her side would only make it better as far as she was concerned. 

"It's a relief to hear that," Cyrus smiled. He pressed one of his hands against his chest and sunk his head low in a bow towards Tressa. "My name is Cyrus Albright. I'm a scholar currently traveling Orsterra, and this is..."

Ophilia picked up with her introduction where Cyrus left off, though she kept the hand clutching at Aelfric's Lanthorn hidden behind her back the whole way through. "My name is Ophilia. I'm a priestess with the Church of the Sacred Flame," she explained. "I'm glad that you're willing to accept our help, Miss...?" Her voice trailed off, a clear implication that she was waiting for Tressa to explain her identity next. 

She nodded upon understanding what Ophilia was asking of her. "I'm Tressa! Tressa Colzione! My parents run a general store in this town, and I was out on my morning run for supplies when those pirates showed up. I'm glad that you two have decided to help me out. I don't think that it would have been a good thing at all if I was forced to fight those pirates off all by myself if something happened for things to go south," she explained. 

"What types of weapons do you use?" Ophilia questioned. Tressa could see a staff sticking out of the bag that was hanging from her shoulder, and the same applied to Cyrus. Given that mages were the primary people who used staves for physical combat (primarily because of the lack of physical strength required to utilize them efficiently), Tressa assumed that they were proficient in the arcane arts to some degree. 

"I can use a spear and a bow, and I'm pretty good with wind magic too," Tressa explained. "My dad taught me everything that I know about weapons, and I'd say that I'm decent enough with them. Of course, I've only had to fight off Coastlands beasts before now, so I guess that I've still got a long way to go, especially if we're going to be fighting against actual people during this."

"Wind magic is not easy to master. I must say that I'm impressed," Cyrus remarked, and Tressa felt her cheeks heat up from his kind comment as a grin spread across her face. "I've learned how to use fire, ice, and thunder magic over my years as a magical researcher, and I'm teaching Ophilia how to use those same elements. She can already utilize light magic as it is."

"Wow!" Tressa cried out, her eyes wide. She would have been lying if she said that magic had never interested her, and it was almost as if this was fate given that she was presented with the chance to meet people so strong with the magical arts on a whim like this. The fact that they had offered to help her through this troubling situation only made it better as far as she was concerned, and Tressa hoped that they would be able to help each other out in a significant way. 

"If you would like, we can help you to learn other types of magic too," Ophilia offered. She paused before letting out a laugh and shaking her head. "Then again, if that container of wine really is filled with sleepweed like you made it sound, then that means that we aren't going to be doing much fighting. Just marching through the caves will have to be our priority, and we don't want to wake anyone up prematurely."

Tressa nodded, and she recognized thanks to Ophilia's words that she and Cyrus had been watching her from afar for quite some time after she entered the tavern. "Well, if there's nothing else for us to take care of, then I guess that we should be off!" she proclaimed. She wrapped her arms around the outside of the wine container once again and attempted to heave it up once more, but it remained stubbornly heavy. She resisted the urge to let out a huff of air when it threatened to slip out of her grasp. Who knew that wine could become so hard to carry when there got to be so much of it? She never would have guessed that. 

"Allow me to assist you," Cyrus offered. He curled his hands around the bottom of the barrel and waited for Tressa to do the same. Meanwhile, Ophilia secured the lid on the container once again, and when Cyrus and Tressa picked it up, the container tipped sideways so that it was resting horizontally between them. Tressa smiled to herself when she was sure that it had been secured in its place within her arms. This was much easier with multiple people, that was for sure. 

"Thanks a lot, Cyrus," Tressa beamed in response. Ophilia spotted her and Cyrus as they took their first few steps towards the door, and Tressa found that moving was even easier than she expected thanks to the outside assistance that she was receiving. She allowed herself to backpedal towards the entrance of the tavern, and all eyes remained on her as she moved in the direction of the door. 

Ophilia pushed the door open when Tressa and Cyrus had a need for such a thing, and they burst out into the clear Rippletide air. The sun was high in the sky, smiling down with a midday gaze. Tressa hadn't noticed that so much time had passed until the outline of the star came to rest at the top edge of her vision. She carefully eased the barrel of wine down once again next to the entrance of the tavern. 

"We should probably go and gather our supplies before we set out," Cyrus suggested. "I hesitate to say that we will likely be attacked while we are in the Caves of Maiya, but it might be for the best if we're at least ready to deal with a potential ambush on our way to encounter the pirates. What do you say?"

"Of course," Ophilia nodded her agreement. "We were on our way to pick up a few items before the pirates appeared and started causing problems in the first place, so it would make sense if we went off to try and take care of that now. Given that we could wind up in the middle of a fight, now seems like as good a time as any to knock that out of our routine for Rippletide."

"I can totally get us a few healing grapes and inspiriting plums," Tressa offered. "In fact, I might be able to get us a bonus on a few special types of jam that we get imported into Rippletide every once in a while. This is a merchant town, after all, so it's only natural that I'm able to get a few special things for our journey. Plus, I might be able to haggle down a few prices and save us some money."

Ophilia's eyes went wide at Tressa's words. "Wow... I can tell that you're experienced when it comes to these matters," she remarked with a gentle laugh. "I'm not complaining, of course, but it's nice to see that you're so passionate and talented on this matter. I'm afraid that Cyrus and I don't have skillsets quite like yours."

Tressa shrugged and waved a hand dismissively in Ophilia's direction. "I wouldn't worry about it. Everybody has their own unique things that they can do that others lack the ability to," she assured Ophilia without a moment of hesitation. "Besides, I'm sure that you'll be able to chime in with this journey in your own way. If we have to fight off some of the pirates, I'm sure that your light magic will come in handy. If they're spending all of their time in a dark, dingy cave, I can't imagine that their eyesight will be all that great. You being able to use light magic should help to make it a bit easier to fight back against them."

Ophilia was practically beaming at Tressa's words, and she nodded confidently at the young merchant. "Thank you for your kind words, Tressa," she told the brown-haired girl. She let out a small breath to ground herself, and she gestured for the others to trail after her. "We should go and pick up the supplies now. I think that this would be a good time for us to strike before the pirates return. After all, it wouldn't be good if they came back and ruined our plan before it could even be put into motion."

"You're right there for sure," Tressa agreed with a nod. She worked on picking up the barrel of wine once again, and Cyrus joined her in such endeavors a moment later. They were off shuffling in the direction of the other half of town soon afterwards, and Tressa was glad to see that everyone had decided to give them a wide berth thanks to the heavy cargo that they were carrying. It certainly made their quest much easier to manage since it lessened the need to push and shove around the other people within Rippletide's bustling streets. 

Tressa kept her footsteps careful yet upbeat as she focused on moving the wine through the street. It wasn't going to be easy for them to get the wine all the way to the Caves of Maiya, especially if there were truly monsters on the path there the way that the rumors claimed. Still, Tressa was beyond confident that they would be able to pull it off. After all, she wasn't going into this alone anymore, and the added assistance that came with the presence of Ophilia and Cyrus already had her feeling as if she could do just about anything. She felt on top of the world in a way that she hadn't experienced previously. No past adrenaline rush could even hope to compare to what she was going through in that moment, and she wouldn't have had it any other way. 

Tressa's mind was racing as she and Cyrus set down the wine barrel in front of a small vendor's stand that was selling grapes and plums. She could see a few jams positioned on the shelf behind the merchant's head, and Tressa grinned to herself as she locked in on her target. She was going to make sure that the best supplies possible wound up in her hands for the sake of this upcoming journey. She had haggled down prices for countless other items, including the fish from that morning that the pirates had stolen from her, so she was sure that this was going to be a piece of cake. 

As she got to work, both Ophilia and Cyrus watched her from a few feet away. Cyrus had a humored smile on his face as he shook his head to himself. "She truly is a bright young woman," he murmured under his breath, and Ophilia nodded her agreement from her place at his side. There was something about Tressa that simply seemed special in a way that neither one of them could describe. Ophilia would never dare to say it outright, but she almost wondered if perhaps her and Cyrus finding Tressa was some gift of fate, as if the gods themselves had pushed the three of them together. 

She ultimately shook off the thought when Tressa returned with an armful of items to show that she had been successful, and the trio took off towards the Caves of Maiya once again. The Ember began to gleam even brighter than before from its place within the Lanthorn, unseen by any but still glittering all the same. 

Chapter Text

Just as the rumors had dictated, the pathway leading up to the entrance of the Caves of Maiya was littered with monsters. They were the same types that Tressa had seen outside of Rippletide when she was forced to fight off beasts that strayed into town. Her aim with a bow was much better than she expected, and Tressa wasn't bad with a spear either. Her wind magic did a nice job of knocking the flying beasts off their course, and each time that a beast was defeated, Tressa found herself beaming with joy at the sight of victory. Cyrus and Ophilia continued to watch her fondly from nearby throughout this whole process, and Tressa found herself beaming at their clear silent praise. 

The job of carrying the wine to the entrance of the caves involved a lot of shuffling around. After a short distance, they would swap around just who was carrying the wine in its hefty container. Ophilia wasn't as muscular as Tressa by a long shot, and after a while, even Cyrus began to struggle. He wasn't even all that strong if Tressa was being honest, but he did have the advantage of height to make it at least a little easier to heft the barrel from place to place. 

As it turned out, Cyrus was notably good when it came to seeing what the enemies were weak to as far as combat was concerned. He could give a brief glance at the beasts, and from there, all it took was a short slash of a weapon or flourish of magic for everything to be resolved. Tressa couldn't help but wonder just how long he had spent studying to make sure that he was good at something so strange, but she figured that it was something that she could inquire about later on. 

"I truly hope that we don't run into any of the pirates in battle after we get there," Ophilia said after she let out a sigh. She had just managed to defeat yet another one of the beasts, and her eyes were laced with concern that anyone could see with just one glance in her direction. 

"If we do see them, then we'll just have to fight our way through!" Tressa declared firmly. She wasn't exactly looking forward to the idea of fighting against the pirates given how ruthless and powerful they had already proven themselves to be, but that wasn't going to stop her from trying. Plus, part of her was desperate to get revenge on the pirates from the humiliation that she had endured earlier that morning. 

"Your plan should make it much easier for us to power through fighting against the pirates," Cyrus pointed out. "If they all drink the laced wine, then it should be easy for us to sneak in and out as long as we're quiet enough to keep from waking them once more. It would likely take quite a bit to rouse them if they're under the influence of sleepweed in the first place, so we have the advantage here."

"Those pirates are going to see this as a way of apologizing for me acting the way that I did earlier today, but they're not going to know that this is exactly what I want them to think," Tressa said to herself with a prideful smile and a snicker. "I can make sure that they think what I want them to. All it's going to take is a little bit of a performance, and I can do that without any issues. If I say that I was sent here to make up for what happened this morning or something... Well, I think that the pieces should all fall right into place, and that'll be that!"

"Your confidence is incredible," Ophilia told Tressa, her eyes gleaming with admiration. "I don't think that I ever would have been able to do something like this. I wouldn't have had the idea in the first place, and beyond that... You have to be pretty driven to not only follow through with it but have such confidence that it will succeed. I don't think that I would ever be able to do something like this."

Tressa shrugged at her words as she and Cyrus continued walking with the barrel. "I think that you're not giving yourself enough credit. You're able to do all sorts of things that I couldn't dream of doing right now. I mean, your skills with light magic are amazing, and I don't know if I have the patience for that right now," she confessed. "I'm happy that you're here. I'm sure that I can use all the help that I can get."

"Thank you," Ophilia whispered, taking a smaller step than usual so that she fell behind Tressa and Cyrus. She looked away so that Tressa wouldn't see that color had come to rise in her cheeks. Ophilia played absentmindedly with her hair with the hand that wasn't clutching the Lanthorn that was still hiding underneath her outer cloak. 

Nobody said anything after that since the entrance to the cave came into view. Tressa grinned to herself before forcing her expression to be corrected back to neutrality with a hint of confidence. Cyrus' looked just as passive as always, making it seem as if he was more focused on his own thought process rather than the task ahead of him. It was a nice way of hiding how he actually felt given the circumstances, and Tressa was relieved that he was at least somewhat decent at masking his emotions. Ophilia, on the other hand, was still staring down at the ground, too flustered from Tressa's compliment to bother looking up at the cave's entrance. 

There were a few jagged spikes sticking up from the ground on either side of the cave, a far cry from the rest of the area that was covered in light gray stones, sand, strips of thin grass, and rippling blue waves. A single torch was positioned off to one side of the cave's entrance, and a lone pirate man could be found outside the cave. He was watching Tressa, Cyrus, and Ophilia with an intense gaze that could easily be classified as a glare, but Tressa refused to allow herself to be deterred by his attempts at intimidation. She had come this far, so she wasn't about to back down. 

The pirate continued to stare in confusion as Tressa and Cyrus eased the barrel onto the ground. Tressa leaned over so that her elbow was positioned against the lid of the container, and Cyrus took a small step back so that she could take the reins on this conversation. "Ahoy there, me hearty!" Tressa declared, using the typical pirate's tone that she had heard throughout the morning. 

As soon as she spoke, the pirate's expression twisted into a full-blown snarl of angry recognition, and Tressa recognized him as the other pirate that had split up the argument between Mikk and Makk earlier that day. "Not you again! You lookin' for trouble, brat?!" the pirate exclaimed in anger, practically resisting the urge to spit in her direction. 

Tressa shook her head as she looked down at the ground with falsified remorse. "No, sir! I came to apologize on behalf of my town. We should've known that we didn't stand a chance against you swashbucklers," she explained. She took a step back and pushed the wine closer to the pirate. "This is for you. I hope you can forgive us."

The pirate's previous anger was immediately forgotten as he took a step forward. His hands fell upon either side of the barrel as he examined it in full. All of his rage had dissipated in the blink of an eye, leaving behind only joy and a wide grin. "Wine!" the pirate exclaimed. He effortlessly hurled the barrel up into his grasp, showing just how much taller he was than Tressa without even needing to try. "The captains will be happy to see this!" The pirate laughed as he retreated into the cave, and the darkness swallowed him a moment later. 

Tressa waited until he was out of view before she began to snicker to herself. She turned around to see that Cyrus and Ophilia had both come to smile as well, and the latter had finally managed to break through her moment of embarrassment. "Bottoms up!" Tressa exclaimed to them as she mimed toasting with an invisible mug of mead. Cyrus and Ophilia began to laugh along with her. 

After a few moments of simply giggling along with Tressa, Ophilia made her own pantomimed glass, and Cyrus followed suit as a way of joining the joke. With a swift shared motion, the three of them hit their hands together in the miming gesture, and when they were finished, Tressa, Cyrus, and Ophilia all had smiles as bright as the morning sun on their faces. Everything was going perfectly according to plan, and the pirates were none the wiser to their machinations. 

~~~~~

Deep within the heart of the Caves of Maiya, about eight of the pirates from Mikk and Makk's group were gathered together. Chests were knocked askew, their lids on the verge of falling off from the wear and tear they had received during the process of theft. Gold piled up in the corners of the space, punctuated further by magnificent gems that gleamed in the low light provided by the overhead chandelier. It had been stolen from a ship long ago, and Mikk and Makk displayed their beautiful prize loud and proud for everyone to see, a sign that all merchants were going to only leave behind Mikk and Makk's domain after all of their valuables had been stolen for the sake of the gang. 

Mikk was laughing as he examined the rainbow wine that he had stolen from Tressa. The fish sat on the floor nearby, nothing interesting in comparison to the splendid drink as far as the pirates were concerned. "Those landlubbers didn't even put up a fight!" Mikk declared in between his roaring cackles. He held up the wine as a sign of their victory, and the pirates all grinned in immense glee along with him. 

Makk nodded in response. "Prolly don't even know how! From the looks of it, their crusty barnacle of a town don't get many pirates," he commented, and the rest of the pirates seemed to agree with such a sentiment. They had been lucky to find even a few things of value in Rippletide as far as they were concerned because of how sleepy and slow the town was. If that was the best that the innermost towns of Orsterra had to offer, then they were better off taking to the seas once again and roaming until they found a place of more overt value. 

"'The strong take while the weak quake!'" Mikk shouted. He thrust his arm into the air, and his grin was nothing short of completely malicious as he soaked up the atmosphere and the stares of his companion in every deliciously disgusting way that he knew how. 

"An' that's the way the world works," Makk agreed with a nod. It had been their favorite slogan for as long as they could remember, and both of the pirates would hold tightly to the words until the day that they died. After all, how else was the world meant to function? Those on top took until there was nothing left. How else would someone find their place in the universe? 

The pirates in the cave began to laugh, all crying out with agreement before Makk went on. "Words to live by, courtesy of Captain Leon Bastralle, scourge of the seas!" he announced. The mysterious Leon Bastralle was known far and wide for his reign of terror when it came to sailing and plundering, and every pirate worth their salt had heard his name. He was an ideal to live by, someone that both Mikk and Makk had admired ever since they encountered the man for the first time years prior. 

"Aye. We set out to follow in his footsteps and ain't looked back since," Mikk agreed, practically glowing at the reminder of Leon Bastralle's words that he had provided to the rest of his party. "There ain't no better life than just takin' what ye wants."

"Cap'n! Cap'n!"

Before Mikk or Makk could continue, the pirate that had been guarding the entrance to the cave ran into view. He was carrying the hefty barrel of wine that Tressa had provided under one arm, showing off the full extent of his strength effortlessly. Mikk and Makk looked at one another instinctively, trying to figure out who was being called the captain. 

When they couldn't find an answer, Mikk gave his partner in crime a ferocious glare before taking a step forward. "I told you! There ain't enough room for two captains around here!" he announced, crossing his arms with a snarl. 

"Right!" Makk agreed as he lumbered a step forward as well. His arms crossed over his chest in an attempted display of intimidating power towards the lankier pirate at his side. "Like I said, yer just the first mate!"

Mikk sunk into a combative stance, and Makk did the same thing. They were both reaching for their blades as the other pirates in the area stepped back, more than used to this bickering among their two leaders. It seemed like there was scarcely a day that went by where this didn't escalate into some type of argument, always about the same subject and with the same objections fired back and forth. 

"Set your squabblin' aside, Captains! We got more wine here!" the pirate newcomer declared. He hefted the barrel onto the ground, and it made a resounding sloshing sound due to the liquid inside. He pulled the lid off, giving everyone the chance to stare into the pool of wine if they so chose. 

"Did ye say wine?!" Mikk and Makk declared in unison as they looked down into the barrel. It was practically filled to the brim, and the two were struggling to keep from salivating at the sight of the alcoholic drink. 

The pirate nodded. "That kid came by and said her town was sorry for what it done," he explained. "She forked over this wine afterward. It's a gift!" He reached for a nearby chalice that was perched among the golden rewards of the pirates' past acts of plunder before approaching the wine barrel once more. 

The pirates in the caves began to cheer loudly, thrusting their fists into the sky with glee. Mikk laughed to himself, unable to contain his glee. "Those landlubbers are fast learners... Or they're too yellow-bellied to put up a fight!" he announced. 

Makk reached for a mug of his own before raising it into the air. "A toast to the landlubbers!" he declared obnoxiously. The pirates all came to close in around him at those words, understanding that it was their turn to have at the alcohol. 

Mikk retrieved a mug as well. "To the limp-legged jellyfish of Rippletide!" he decreed. "Cheers, mateys!" He clinked his cup against Makk's mug, and their previous argument regarding who was the captain was forgotten in full, little more than a distant memory in favor of the delicate smell of wine with an unnoticed tint of sleepweed. 

"To the piratin' life!" Makk went on. The rest of the pirates joined in, and their laughter could be heard echoing all throughout the Caves of Maiya until nothing could be heard but their endless cackling. 

~~~~~

Outside of the Caves of Maiya, Tressa was still waiting with Cyrus and Ophilia. The sounds from the pirates' den had grown loud with their roaring laughter before falling silent, a sign that the influenced wine was finally starting to sink its teeth into their bloodstreams. None of the three had dared to move for quite some time, waiting for any signal, no matter how small, that they were ready to proceed. 

Tressa grinned when she figured that the proper amount of time had passed. She knew that it took sleepweed about ten minutes to take effect in full, and the pirates hadn't done anything to make noise in about fifteen, a sign that they were ready to charge into the caves. She looked over to Ophilia and Cyrus to make sure that they were ready, and she was met with gentle smiles from both of them, a marker of their determination and resolve. 

"It should be just about time. Alright, let's go!" Tressa declared. Cyrus and Ophilia nodded in response, and Tressa turned on her heel before retreating into the deepest recesses of the Caves of Maiya. 

The three were completely silent as they started walking, and the light of the outside world began to fade away the deeper that they got into the caverns. Ophilia raised the Lanthorn from her place at the start of the group's formation, lighting the way effortlessly with a luminescent white glow. Tressa was directly behind her while Cyrus took up the rear, his staff at the ready in case they were ambushed from behind. 

A torch was lit not far from the entrance, and the gentle firelight showed off an unconscious figure slumped over on the ground. Tressa could see upon closer examination that it was a pirate, and she grinned to herself as she glanced over to Cyrus and Ophilia. The pirate's quiet snoring filled her ears. "Well, that was easy," she told them in a voice that was just barely above a whisper. She scoffed and shook her head. "Ha! That's what they get for underestimating me!" 

"It should be easy for us to get to the back end of the caves to get the stolen goods back now," Ophilia whispered, though she was much quieter than Tressa had been due to her general nature being different. She pointed nearby to the path that would lead them deeper into the caves, and Cyrus nodded his agreement. Ophilia began to walk down the designated road with the other two directly behind her. 

The Caves of Maiya were dark and wet, and there were small pools of liquid all over the ground. Jagged peaks of damp stone rose up from the ground. On the bottom side of the cave, a small stream of water could be seen, though it was hardly the bright blue hue that the Central Sea was. Instead, it was dark and muddled due to the life that thrived within the cave. There were no animals, so all of the creatures aside from the pirates lived underwater instead. Tressa couldn't help but wonder if perhaps the natural beasts of the region had been chased out by Mikk, Makk, and the rest of the pirates. 

There were many other pirates in the area, though none of them did anything to move or stop the trio of travelers. Tressa found herself grinning when she looked down to see that there were small bags of gold hanging from the waistbands of the pirates. She reached down and pulled a few leaves from each pirate that she passed, and she thought of it as moral and physical compensation for the grief that Rippletide had received as of late. Neither Ophilia nor Cyrus seemed to mind in the slightest, and Tressa assumed that if she could ask them, they would agree that it was simply the retribution of the universe that gave her the chance to snag the money that the pirates had stolen from innocent people simply trying to survive. 

Not a word was uttered the entire way to the back end of the caves. It was for the best given that any noise that crossed over into the territory of being too noisy was going to stir a pirate from their slumber. Even if the sleepweed had them deep in the land of dreams, it would be possible to wake them if the group wasn't careful, especially if the pirate in question hadn't had enough to drink from the barrel. There were at least two dozen pirates in the cave, and that meant that the herb was being stretched pretty thin between the countless plunderers. 

The glow of the chandelier made it clear that they had arrived at the back of the area. Tressa stepped carefully up the jagged stairs to the main segment of the pirates' hideaway, doing what she could to not make too much noise. Cyrus and Ophilia followed in her footsteps with Ophilia hooking the Lanthorn around her waistband with some clever improvising. She was going to have to find an easier way to carry it without using her hands in the future, but that was hardly her primary concern at the moment. 

The riches of the area made Tressa's jaw drop, and she had to resist the urge to stare at all of the priceless gems that the pirates had stolen over the course of their past journeys. She focused her gaze onto the barrel waiting nearby, and she recognized it as the same container that she had used to transport the wine. When she peered over the rim to see how much was left, she was pleasantly surprised to see that the container was empty. That certainly explained why there hadn't been any resistance to her attempt at intrusion. None of the pirates were awake to even try fighting back. 

Mikk and Makk were slumped over nearby, and Tressa grinned in their direction. She hoped that there was treasure in their dreams, because they sure as hell weren't going to be waking up to anything precious if she had anything to say about it. She walked to the back of the space with Ophilia and Cyrus before leaning down to start picking up the items that she recognized from Rippletide. This would make the pirates think twice about stealing from her town again. 

However, while the three were distracted with their duties of retrieving the stolen goods, Mikk stumbled to his feet. It took him a moment to collect himself as the sleepweed wore off, and he rubbed at his temple, suddenly influenced by a massive headache from his excessive consumption of the wine from earlier. As soon as he managed to force his eyes to focus, he glared at Tressa and slipped into a defensive position. "Hey! What're you doing here?!" he shrieked loudly, his voice echoing throughout the caves. 

Tressa's shoulders went tense, and she slowly turned to face him. Ophilia and Cyrus did the same, and the latter began to reach for the staff sticking out of his satchel as quickly as he could without drawing attention to himself. "M-Me?" Tressa stammered, surprised that Mikk was awake at all. He should have still been asleep, but that plan had clearly fallen through. He hadn't consumed enough of the wine for the effects of the drug to last. Either that or their expedition through the Caves of Maiya was taking longer than expected. Tressa didn't know what the explanation was, but she didn't think that she cared enough to find out when there was clearly a battle just a breath away. 

Tressa straightened herself out and began to walk towards the barrel. "Er, well, I just came back to get the cask. I'll be going now..." she explained. The pirates weren't the brightest of bulbs, but she somehow doubted that they were going to believe her when she said that. It didn't stop her form holding onto hope, and she began to walk slowly around the other side of the barrel before trying to pull it into her grasp. Cyrus and Ophilia followed her lead in making slow movements that lacked aggression to pacify the pirate. 

Much to Tressa's surprise, Mikk's expression softened. "Oh, that's mighty kind of ye," he said. For a long moment, Tressa and Mikk just stared at each other, though Tressa broke through the quiet when she started to pick up the barrel. 

Mikk's voice interrupted her with a noisy yell, and she immediately realized that the illusion had been shattered. "Makk, ye lazy sack of bones, get up! We got ourselves an intruder!" Mikk declared, his voice shrill and agitated yet still seeking a fight. 

Makk jumped to his feet upon hearing the voice, and Tressa's stomach began to sink down to her feet. "What?!" Makk cried out. He looked around frantically before he found Tressa with his gaze, and he immediately reached for his cutlass before leveling it in the direction of the trio of travelers. "Hey, I know you! Yer that brat from the town!" He paused thoughtfully before continuing. "Oh... I gets it now. Ye came to steal our loot while we was sleeping, didn't ye?"

"You don't miss a thing, do you?" Tressa questioned, recognizing that there wasn't a way for them to get out of this without a fight. Ophilia and Cyrus remained silent but ever present at her side, and Tressa could see them both reaching for their staves once again. The air seemed to come to life with the buzz of their magic preparing to burst free into the open sky. 

"Ye got guts, kid, but guts alone won't get ye far in this world," Mikk told Tressa. He reached for his own blade before falling into a combative stance himself. "We don't forgive none that tries to take our hard-earned loot."

Tressa was practically fuming when she shot back a reply. "Hard-earned?! You stole all of this!" she roared angrily, remembering how weak and beaten down the older merchant had appeared that morning. 

"That we did," Makk confirmed. "Which makes it ours now." He was grinning sadistically as he stared at Tressa, and something in his eyes made it clear that he thought she was simply a naive child with no knowledge of the world's workings. 

"You don't understand the meaning of earning anything!" Tressa cried out next. She reached for her spear without hesitation, and the wind around her stilled as if it knew that she was going to be calling upon it shortly. "You don't understand all the love and care that went into making those products! How hard those people have to work to earn the satisfaction of their customers! And it's up to merchants like me to make sure these products find their way into the hands of those who can appreciate them! So on my honor as a merchant, I will get those goods back!"

"Yer shark bait, brat," Mikk scoffed. He pointed the sword at her, but this did little to deter Tressa. If anything, it only intensified her desire to fight them off with everything that she had. 

"Don't expect us to go easy on ye. The world's a harsh place--as we're about to teach ye!" Makk declared as he lunged forward, his sword outstretched. Mikk was hot on his toes, but Tressa, Cyrus, and Ophilia weren't going to go down without a fight, and they jumped into combat as well. 

Tressa ducked down low beneath a slash from Makk's blade before stabbing her spear in Mikk's direction. The pirate stumbled at the hit from the lance, notably losing his balance. Cyrus picked up on this immediately. "Mikk appears to have a weakness to spears, Tressa!" he exclaimed. After a moment of quick observation, he glanced to Ophilia. "He struggles with thunder magic as well. I can see it in the way that he carries himself. Makk seems to be weaker against fire magic."

Ophilia nodded, and she closed her eyes before whispering beneath her breath for flames to come to her fingertips. She unleashed a strong blast against Makk, and he immediately stumbled backwards. Cyrus raised his staff before bringing it down roughly against Makk's shoulder. Makk's balance was completely obliterated by these two attacks, and Tressa took this as her chance. 

Tressa managed to pull away from Mikk enough to concentrate on the wind in the area. She forced the air around her to start moving towards her foes, and with a powerful gale of green magic, wind slammed into both of the pirates. They fell backwards, barely managing to stay on their feet. "They're weak to wind magic too!" Tressa whispered under her breath. 

"Let's focus on eliminating one of them first!" Cyrus declared. His gaze fell upon Makk first, and the others seemed to immediately understand his intentions. Ophilia unleashed another strike of fire magic before Cyrus followed up with a staff hit. Tresa nocked an arrow and sent it flying, and Makk was left defenseless when the arrow knocked his blade out of his hand. 

Cyrus closed his eyes before leveling his attention towards Makk. A torrent of fire spread outwards from there. "A great inferno will scorch the land!" he declared. Makk screamed as the flames hit him roughly before sizzling out of existence against the walls of the cave. 

Ophilia sent a brief blast of thunder in Mikk's direction simply to keep him distracted before focusing on summoning all of the magical might that she could muster. She followed Cyrus' lead in overwhelming Makk with fire magic. If there was any strength left in Makk previously, it disappeared with Ophilia's action of aggression. 

Tressa was the final member of the group to turn her attention towards Makk. "The winds of fortune are howling!" she proclaimed as she forced the wind in the area to start attacking Makk and Mikk both with everything that she had. Makk's screams echoed despite the crying of the gales, and he fell to one knee, losing all motivation to press on. He was too weak to fight back, it seemed. 

Mikk rubbed at the corner of his mouth with one hand. A cut had formed there because of Tressa's attack. "We'll make ya walk the plank!" he announced, his voice an irritated shriek. He suddenly seemed to grow stronger, his resolve solidifying itself, and Tressa realized that even though Makk was out of the fight temporarily, Mikk wasn't going to make it easy for her team. The battle wasn't over yet, and victory still was not guaranteed. 

"I think it's time for you to walk the plank instead!" Tressa shouted before charging in once again, her spear primed for another attack. Mikk didn't know what was coming to him, and Tressa was going to make sure that she won. Nothing was going to stop her now. 

Chapter Text

Tressa felt the impact of Mikk's next attack rough and hard. It came at her with the force of an entire ship, and she realized that she was falling too late. Her head slammed against the ground below, her hat offering as sufficient cushion to keep her from getting too hurt. Tressa didn't realize how hard it was to breathe all of a sudden until after she tried to take in a pained inhale, and every part of her body seemed to complain at the mere implication that she would try. 

A warm sensation overcame Tressa a moment later, and she glanced up to see that Ophilia had raised her staff high above her head to heal Tressa's injuries. Tressa gave her a smile before she reached for her own spear and allowing it to lead her in Mikk's direction. She hit him in the stomach as hard as she could manage, and Mikk yelped in noisy agony. 

Tressa jumped backwards when she heard Cyrus murmuring beneath his breath, and a moment later, lightning magic pierced the air. It slammed into Mikk with immense force, and the pirate was almost sent sprawling against the ground all over again. Tressa followed the attack up with a windy blast of her own, and that was enough to knock Mikk off his feet. 

"Holy light, guide me forward!" Ophilia cried out. She raised her staff above her head, and white magic tinged with pale yellow and blue exploded away from the head of the staff before rocketing towards Mikk. The pirate was too dazed to fight back, and it was easy to see that Ophilia had managed to do significant damage even though the glow of her attack was strong enough that it nearly stole Tressa's vision for a few fleeting moments. 

Tressa was the next to act, and she sent one hand forward with as much force as she could muster. The wind of the cave immediately listened to her cries, and a series of green gales beat through the air before slamming fiercely into Mikk's body. He slammed against the edge of the cave, and when he slumped down once again, he was on one knee. His cutlass had been knocked far away from him somewhere in the scuffle, though Tressa wasn't quite sure when that had happened. She figured that it was unimportant and took a step closer to Mikk to make it clear to him that he had failed in his endeavors to try and succeed. 

Before Tressa was able to say a word though, Mikk threw himself to his feet and lunged towards her. His hands were outstretched, and Tressa realized too late that he was trying to get his fingers around her neck. Tressa ducked as soon as she could, though Mikk's hand still managed to clamp down against her wrist. He was much stronger than his lanky form would have suggested, and Tressa couldn't wrench her arm away from him no matter how hard she tried. 

Luckily, a quick flash of yellow thunder magic cut off Tressa from Mikk. The pirate stumbled backwards, and when Tressa looked back, she could see that Cyrus had one hand outstretched in Mikk's direction. The tips of his fingers were smoking, a sign that he had been the one to cast the spell. There hadn't been any doubt in the first place, but Tressa was grateful for the confirmation regardless. 

Tressa reclaimed her spear since it had fallen from her fingers when she was grabbed by Mikk a moment later. She charged towards Mikk, but this time, he was hit hard. She pierced his shoulder with the tip of her lance. Mikk screamed in pain before falling to his knees once again, held up with only one of his arms. His breathing was heavy, and his face was practically covered in sweat from the exertion that came with the difficult round of combat. 

Tressa took a step back so that she could point her spear at both Mikk and Makk. The pirates were clearly defeated, and their eyes were wild and desperate, making them seem more like caged animals than humans backed into a corner. "Now hand over those goods!" Tressa proclaimed. She became aware of Ophilia and Cyrus appearing over either of her shoulders, their staves also pointed in the direction of the pair of pirates. 

"Yer one tough barnacle to pick... But we're just gettin' started!" Mikk crowed with much more confidence than Tressa had anticipated. He and Makk both rose to their feet, and Tressa could tell by the smirks on their faces that there was more to this situation than she was seeing. "Mateys!"

Tressa heard the parade of footfall long before she saw the pirates closing in around them. There were five of them coming up from the staircase that had given Tressa, Cyrus, and Ophilia the chance to enter the area in the first place. All of them were holding tightly to weapons, whether they be swords, daggers, or axes. Instinctively, Tressa and her companions backed up against one another, going into a defensive position out of desperation to get out of this seemingly impossible situation alive. 

"Yer all fools for challengin' us without backup!" Makk proclaimed as he shrugged and shook his head. Tressa realized with a bitter snarl that they had been ready for a potential attack the whole time. Chances were that this was a backup plan that had been put into motion when prey fell into the proper position, and Tressa just so happened to be the field mouse being slammed underneath the cat's paw. 

"In this world, the strong take while the weak quake!" Makk went on. He recovered his own sword and spun it around once before pointing it in Tressa's direction. "Time to learn yer place, ye squirmy little maggot!" 

Tressa was vaguely aware of the pirates all converging on her, Cyrus, and Ophilia at once, but all she knew was the pounding of her heart as it screamed against her ears. She commanded the winds to fall under her command silently, but her panic made it hard to be in full control. The spell was liable to spiral out of control, but Tressa didn't even care. She just knew that they had to get out of there one way or another. 

Before Tressa could release the haywire burst of magic, she was cut off by a powerful slash and a streak of blue in her peripheral vision. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that three of the pirates had retreated with gashes in their upper arms. One more slash resulted in the other pirates stepping back as well, eyes wide with fear and shock. 

"That's quite enough."

Tressa's jaw dropped as she recognized her savior. She would recognize that blonde hair and blue clothing anywhere. It was the captain that had given her the chance to do all of this in the first place. His glare was intense, more than enough to keep all of the pirates pinned to their places scattered throughout the cave. 

The captain's spear remained primed at the ready as he addressed the pirates in the vicinity. "Those who only pick on the weak and defenseless have no right to speak of the way the world works," he declared. Tressa noticed just how sharp the edge of the captain's spear was, and it seemed to shine ominously even in the low lighting of the cave. A few drops of crimson blood fell away from the edge of the lance, but the resulting noises were hardly loud enough to break through the thick veil of silence that had fallen over the area like suffocating fog. 

"Well, if it ain't the lily-livered scalawag from before," Mikk crowed as he spun his sword over one hand, allowing the blade to gleam in the low lighting of the chandelier. "What difference does one more make?! Get 'em!" 

The captain acted quickly. With a single slash of his spear, he was able to send two of the pirates reeling, and he turned the lance around before slamming the shaft of it down against the head of another pirate that dared to come too close. Cyrus unveiled his staff to slam it into the temple of a fourth pirate, sending him crashing unceremoniously to the ground. Ophilia released a spell of overwhelming light, and the final pirate of the group went down, leaving behind only Mikk and Makk. 

The latter of the two remaining pirates was staring at the group with wide eyes, in complete disbelief that his ensemble had failed to defeat his foes. "He done swabbed our decks!" he shrieked in anger after a groan of shock and anguish left his lips. "Just who are ye?!"

"Hm?" the captain questioned as he returned to his full height. He slammed the shaft of his azure lance into the ground, maintaining a tight grasp on the weapon as Tressa watched on in silent surprise. "I'd think any pirate worth his brine would already know."

Mikk and Makk yelped in harmonized shock. "That blue spear..." Mikk said first, on the verge of dropping his sword because of how stunned he was at the revelation. 

"With the strength and swiftness of a viper..." Makk continued, stumbling backwards by a step. He barely managed to keep his fingers curled around his weapon. 

"Could it really be...?!" Mikk questioned next, and Tressa started to feel like she was the only person in the room who didn't understand the punchline of whatever solemn joke it felt like the captain was trying to convey. She couldn't bring herself to glance over her shoulder at Cyrus and Ophilia to see if they were just as clueless as she was or not. 

"Cap'n Leon Bastralle?!" Makk cried out. Mikk was too stunned to speak, so all he did was stare on, waiting for confirmation of the truth. 

Tressa let out a yelp of surprise. "What?!" she cried out. "Captain, are you really... The Leon Bastralle?!" She was familiar with the name. Any merchant worth their salt had heard the rumors of the infamous Leon Bastralle, a pirate that was capable of any vendor's worst nightmares and worse. How could the captain that had helped her so much up to that point possibly be a feared pirate? He had been so kind to her, and everything that he had done implied that he was simply a merchant wandering through the Central Sea. The revelation felt a lot like a stab of betrayal that jabbed tight and fierce at Tressa's abdomen. 

"Aye," the captain, or rather, Leon, replied. "Leon Bastralle in name, though a pirate no longer. Now I'm just the captain of a humble merchant ship." He leveled his spear in the direction of Mikk and Makk, and the two pirates seemed ready to completely collapse from terror at the mere prospect of standing up to such a famous villain that had fueled their shared worldview for years up to that moment. "Here's a lesson for you lads from a true man of the sea... Dead men tell no tales." All of a sudden, the gleaming crimson at the tip of his spear from the wounds that he had opened on the arms of the pirates seemed even more noticeable. A drop of scarlet blood fell onto the cave floor, and the sound echoed for what felt like a thousand years along with the promise of Leon's threat. 

"I..." Mikk began as he looked down at his sword. He looked tempted to completely drop the blade, but instead, he simply shoved it into its sheath. The action was hasty and lacking in organization, and afterwards, he threw his arms up above his head in an open act of surrender. "I ain't ready to be a dead man yet!"

"Haul bottom, mateys, else it be the locker for us!" Makk exclaimed, throwing his own sword back into its sheath without a beat of hesitation. The dazed pirates that had been scattered about the cave managed to recollect themselves, and those that were unconscious were fiercely shaken by those that remained upright until they were able to run away. Tressa watched as the series of figures vanished from view, and their footsteps echoed towards the entrance of the Caves of Maiya before completely leaving her earshot. 

Leon let out a chuckle as he shook his head, and his spear fell into a dormant position at his side. "Their feet are as quick as their wits are slow," he commented to himself, seemingly unbothered by how stunned Tressa, Cyrus, and Ophilia were around him. All three of them stared on at him, and Tressa could see that Ophilia's expression was twisted into horror from the previous revelation as to Leon's identity. Cyrus was much better at shelving his shock, though it was clear that he remained shaken. 

Tressa swallowed dryly as she did her best to move away from her blatant surprise. It took a lot more effort than it should have for her to force her jaw shut. "Um... Captain?" she finally managed to choke out around her own panic. Her heart was still pounding, and her mind was torn between trusting Leon's word regarding his personal change or not. 

"Call me Leon, lass," Leon replied, his expression softening. Somehow, this set of four words seemed to humanize him from the distant figure of an untouchable brute of the past, and both Ophilia and Cyrus began to relax. Tressa found herself losing the tension in her shoulders as well, and she allowed herself to take comfort in the fact that his change appeared to be genuine. There was something about the way his cerulean eyes sparkled that told Tressa that she was in safe hands regardless of what history might have implied. 

"Mr. Leon... Thank you for saving us," Tressa said, allowing a smile to spread across her face. She gave him a gentle bow of her head, allowing herself to fully embrace the trust that she was now confident that he deserved. 

"We would have been in serious trouble without your help," Ophilia chimed in. Cyrus nodded his agreement, and he finally seemed to feel comfortable with placing his staff back in his satchel, a sign that he no longer felt that it was unsafe to associate with Leon. 

The captain smiled to the trio of travelers in response. "I believe one good turn deserves another," he said. Those words were the complete opposite of the slogan of his that Mikk and Makk had touted with its implications of the strong being deserving while the weak were feeble by comparison. Tressa found herself enjoying the words a lot more than she should have. "Now, have you gathered all you need?"

Tressa turned on her heel and began to pull the various goods of the caves into her arms. Cyrus and Ophilia joined her, and after a few moments, they were finished with the job that they had set out to accomplish. "Yup! All that's left is to bring back the goods!" Tressa proclaimed merrily.

"Excellent work," Leon smiled at Tressa, and she had to admit that it was still impressive how unbothered he was by his past being exposed through Mikk and Makk. His demeanor implied that he truly had moved beyond what he once was, and while Tressa didn't doubt this, it still caught her by surprise. "Now you can return home, your honor as a merchant all the greater." He paused and let out a sigh. "I must make for the docks. It's nigh time I set sail."

"You're leaving so soon?" Tressa asked, taking a step forward purely on instinct. She would have been lying if she said that she wasn't disappointed with this outcome, and her heart felt like it was being cut down the center even though she hadn't known him for long. 

"The sea calls me, lass. But before I do..." Leon smiled from behind his scarf and reached out his hand towards Tressa, and everything about him was the embodiment of invitation. "Why don't you come by my ship?"

Tressa's eyes went wide, and she found herself fumbling for a response. She glanced past Leon to where Cyrus and Ophilia were standing, and she waited for them to offer her a reply. Cyrus was the one who spoke up in the end, and a smile graced his lips. "Feel free to go and see him if you would like. Ophilia and I can focus on distributing the goods amongst the townsfolk," he told her. "I'm certain that we'll be able to find a method that will resolve the matter while you're occupied with other means."

Tressa allowed herself to nod in response to Leon, and the smile that burst across her features seemed so contagious that not even Ophilia was able to keep her joy from being displayed out in the open. "Okay!" Tressa finally chirped, and her excitement from the morning seeing Leon from the first time came flooding back all at once. She didn't know how to describe it, but she had a great feeling about this. 

~~~~~

A while later, Tressa stood on the docks near Leon's large merchant ship, and her eyes took in how impressive the vessel was all over again. She had known that it was amazing, but somehow, knowing that and standing in the ship's shadow were two completely different things, and Tressa was struggling to ensure that her jaw didn't drop to the point of making her look foolish in front of Leon. 

"What are you waiting for, lass?"

Tressa's eyes focused on the plank of wood leading up to the ship's deck, and she could see that Leon was standing there, the sun framing his golden hair perfectly. He was watching her in endless curiosity, still yearning for her to come aboard the ship as he had asked of her back in the Caves of Maiya. 

Tressa didn't know why she was letting her uncertainty get to her then of all times. Leon had invited her onto the ship, and that meant that he had to want her there. Why did she feel like she was going to fall apart from nerves? "It's just... You said you only let those you trust on your ship, so..." she said softly, praying that her fears were foolish rather than a chance for Leon to backpedal on his previous invitation. 

Leon nodded and let out a chuckle. "So climb aboard already," he confirmed, and Tressa's heart seemed to skip a beat at the simple string of words. He pivoted on his heel and walked onto the deck, waiting for Tressa to join him. She nodded to herself, as if she had to steel her nerves for this upcoming encounter, before clambering up the wood. 

The ship's deck was beyond elaborate, Tressa had to say. There were priceless goods scattered everywhere, and she could hardly find anything that didn't seem to take her breath away, likely the items that Leon had intended to potentially exchange in Rippletide prior to the business with the pirates. There were a few intricate paintings, chests worth of expensive gemstones, and vases of perfect construction. In other words, it felt like she was in paradise, floating on top of the world with no fears of ever being dragged down to Earth again. Was she living a dream? She had to be dreaming this up, right? 

"It took a great deal of courage to stand up to those pirates, and I believe such bravery is deserving of reward," Leon told Tressa, pulling her away from her stunned but silent thoughts as he gestured to the many items of value across the deck of his ship. 

"Reward?" Tressa echoed, suddenly overly aware of how loud the sound of her heart was as it slammed against her ribcage. He couldn't have meant what she thought he meant, right? 

"I've collected countless treasures from the furthest corners of this world. They are my most prized possessions... And you can take whichever you fancy," Leon replied. 

Tressa let out a yelp of a gasp. "R-Really?!" She managed to somewhat regain her composure, though her shock remained loud and firm across her features. "I-I could never take something so precious from you!"

Leon laughed and shook his head. "It's okay, lass. I insist. Unless you don't care much for treasure, hm?"

Tressa knew what Leon was doing, trying to subtly push her into accepting his gift, but that didn't stop her from laughing in response. "When you put it that way, I can't really refuse!"

"That's the spirit!" Leon declared with a jovial chuckle that Tressa immediately committed to memory. 

"I always knew the world was full of treasures... But I never dreamt I'd see such wonders," Tressa confessed. She approached a painting of a woman with light strawberry blonde hair and a small yet serene smile across her face. "This is beautiful..."

"A fine choice. What strikes you about the painting, lass?" Leon asked, taking a step closer to come up behind her and examine the picture for himself. 

"I don't really know," Tressa confessed before falling into silent contemplation. "Out of all these incredible treasures... This one, it... It speaks to me. It feels like I can see into the artist's soul. I can feel what he felt, all he experienced in his life..."

"That is Love Unforgotten, a work left behind by Bastian, a famed painter from a land to the west," Leon told Tressa. "He was quite the admirer of women and married four times. And yet he could never forget the memory of his first love who tragically passed away when the two were babes of thirteen years. It was his life's work to depict her as a woman grown--the beauty he knew she'd have one day become--working on the piece until the end of his career. Today, it is one of the world's most famous works of art."

"Wow... I never knew," Tressa admitted. She fell into a lapse of brief quiet. "Mr. Leon, would you mind if I looked around a little longer?" She didn't know what pushed her to do this, but Tressa felt as if the painting wasn't what she was looking for. It was gorgeous and precious, yes, but it didn't feel right for her. 

"To your heart's content, lass," Leon replied. He watched as Tressa continued to wander the deck as he murmured beneath his breath. "A born merchant, that one. I can see it in her eyes. She knew not a thing of Bastian but identified that painting as a masterpiece in an instant. I thought this was just a sleepy seaside town, but this girl... She just might be a shining gem among the rocks."

"Did you say something?" Tressa questioned, not looking up from her search that had her on her knees examining the deck. Leon shook his head with a hum of false denial. A moment later, Tressa gasped and launched herself to her feet. "This is the one!"

Tressa held out a small leather bound journal. There were a few strands of hardened material sticking out from the center acting as a bookmark. The entire book was worn down, clearly a well-loved victim of the hands of time. "Can I take this one, Mr. Leon?"

"Let's have a look now..." Leon murmured as he approached her. As soon as he caught sight of the book, he began to laugh. "I'm afraid this old thing won't sell for much. It was left behind by a man I once let aboard in my younger days. It seems I neglected to throw it out, and it got mixed in here. It would be best if you chose something else, lass."

Despite his words, Tressa would not be deterred. "No, I want this one," she assured him with a shake of her head. "I can't really explain it, but... It feels like it's calling to me."

"Is it now?" Leon questioned. "Consider it yours then." His expression remained quizzical at her peculiar choice, but he didn't question Tressa as she thanked him with a firm nod and started to leave the boat. 

When she was standing on the docks, Tressa looked up to Leon. He had pulled the board up and was preparing to set sail. "Fare thee well, lass. Perhaps a day will come when you and I will meet as rivals, but I won't be beat. I swear it on my honor as a merchant," he called down to her. When he received a smile and a nod from Tressa, he turned to look at the others on the deck of his ship. "Weigh anchor, men! The ocean calls!"

Tressa moved farther down the docks so that she could watch as Leon's ship disappeared across the horizon, and her gaze was locked on the vessel until it was gone from view. "I saw it with my own two eyes... Within those dusty pages... I felt like there was something that would change my life forever." Her eyes fell down to the journal in her hands. 

She lost track of time as she wandered through the town on her way back home. Her eyes scanned the pages, and the rest of Rippletide felt secondary to the adventures of the traveler who had detailed part of his life's quest between the worn covers. It wasn't until after she arrived back at the entrance of the store that she pulled herself out of her trance. Cyrus and Ophilia were standing there waiting for her, but Tressa scarcely noticed. Her deep fascination and unprecedented affection towards the book had captured all of her attention, leaving little room for anything else. 

"'This world is brimming with treasures,'" Tressa read softly to herself. "'And I know what I'm searching for is out there somewhere. So I'll set sail for the horizon... And the great, big world beyond.'"

Tressa looked up from the book to see Cyrus and Ophilia watching. She didn't bother wondering about how they had found her home (they had asked around town), instead grinning to herself and giving them a gesture to wait where they were. Cyrus raised an eyebrow, and Ophilia seemed ready to ask what Tressa was thinking, but the girl had already dashed into her family's store before either one of them could do anything to question her. 

"It's time I see the world!" Tressa proclaimed to Marina and Olneo, placing her hands proud and firm on her hips. Both of her parents turned away from their previous tasks to stare at her in shock, and Olneo sputtered in his surprise. Tressa simply nodded. "I'm going to leave Rippletide and become a traveling merchant! I'll see the world and have customers from every corner of the realm!"

"Oh my!" Marina cried out. "Just think about what you're saying, dear!" She approached her daughter quickly, concern glowing bright and nervous in her irises. 

"Traveling merchant?! I won't have it! You're not even a stationary merchant yet!" Olneo proclaimed. "You need at least two years of stocking the store and three years of working the shop front. That's five years before you're ready to go anywhere!"

Tressa shook her head. "Sorry, Pa. My mind's made up. I'll get all kinds of training on the road anyways! Besides, I won't be alone. A few really nice people helped me out with fighting off the pirates, and they're traveling the world too. I'm going to travel with them and see what the world has to offer!" she declared. Technically, she hadn't asked Cyrus and Ophilia if that was alright yet, but she figured that she could explain it after she left. Their shadows were cast beneath the door to the store, so they were waiting for her outside still. 

"I had a feeling you'd have a plan," Olneo muttered despairingly. "There's no point in trying to stop you now, is there?" Tressa shook her head, and Olneo looked to the crack beneath the door. "Alright... You have my blessing."

"Darling, this is our little girl you're talking about!" Marina cried out, scandalized that her husband would even imply such a thing. 

"I know. But I had a feeling this day would come. She is her father's daughter, after all," Olneo replied. "In the end, being a good merchant boils down to experience, and that's just what she'll find out there. Go and see the world, Tressa, until your heart's content."

Tressa surged forward and pulled her parents into an embrace. Both of them returned the gesture, but Marina hummed with worry. "I can't help but worry, Tressa..." Marina confessed, her voice wavering slightly. "Do take care of yourself out there, won't you? Be strong, and may the Sacred Flame light your path."

"Thanks, Ma. Thanks, Pa," Tressa said as she pulled away from them. "I'm sorry for leaving... But I'll come back one day, and you'll see just how much I've learned!"

"We wouldn't know what to do if you didn't," Olneo teased. "After all, you're our number one employee. He looked over to Marina, who nodded her agreement. 

Tressa snickered before reaching for the door, the bell above her jingling. "Bye, Ma! Bye, Pa!" She gave them a wave, and her parents returned the gesture before she left the building behind, the sweet ocean breeze hitting her square in the face. 

As expected, Ophilia and Cyrus were still waiting for her, though they were just as confused as before. Tressa cut them off by holding up one hand before they could ask any questions. "I've decided that I'm going to see the world! Can I travel with you two from now on?" she asked. 

Ophilia and Cyrus glanced over to one another without a beat of hesitation before Ophilia nodded. "Of course," she replied. "We would be happy to have you, Tressa... Are you sure that you want to leave? This is a big decision to make."

"I'm sure of it," Tressa assured her. "Now, let's go! Cobbleston awaits!" She started dashing off in the direction of the bridge that led out of Rippletide, and Cyrus and Ophilia shared a brief smile before trailing after her. 

Tressa was back to examining the journal when she stopped halfway across the bridge. "This journal... The author only filled in half the pages. The other half is still blank," she murmured when she was disappointed to see the back half was unoccupied by words. "I guess I'll just have to pick up where he left off! I'll write down everything! I won't leave any stone unturned!" Tressa glanced over to where Cyrus and Ophilia were as they approached her slowly. She already knew exactly where she was going to start. After all, what better place was there to begin than with the people who had helped her through her first real adventure? She clapped the book shut with one hand. "From the next chapter on, this will be my story. I'll travel far and wide and journey on until every last page is filled!" 

Tressa looked to the sea waiting for her on one side of the bridge, and she pressed her hands against the stone with a smile. "I don't know what lies beyond the horizon... But there's only one way to find out! See ya, Rippletide!" With that said, Tressa pivoted on her heel and began to dash across the rest of the bridge with Ophilia and Cyrus hot on her trail. 

This was only the start of Tressa's journey as a merchant, and she knew it. She would start by following in the footsteps of this nameless traveler, and after that, who knew what would come next? Only time would be able to say what would be her final destination, but Tressa didn't mind the lack of answers. For the time being, she was content with simply a journal in her hands, her skills as a merchant in her mind, and a new pair of friends by her side. Nothing else mattered, and that was fine with her. 

Chapter Text

War is hell, and the battlefield is a fragment of the inferno. 

This was one truth that Olberic Eisenberg had come to be well-acquainted with over his years as a soldier and knight. Combat became easier with time, but the fact remained that there was always the threat of harm coming from some angle or another. Danger was never far from Olberic's mind, and he did what he could to fend it off. 

His blade flashed as he navigated his way through the outskirts of Hornburg, the proud city that he had called his home since the day that he was born. His hair, a deep brown color, was combed close to his face to keep from getting in the way of his flashing blade. Olberic's skin, lightly tinted brown, seemed darker than usual under the influence of the cloudy skies overhead. His eyes were a dark brown color as well, and they scanned the battlefield without any hesitation. That was the least that he could do to ensure that he kept his life in the midst of combat. He wore the typical blue clothing found on knights within Hornburg. Even if it was optional among the highest-ranking soldiers such as Olberic himself, he wore the colors with pride. He wanted the world to know that he was a knight of Hornburg, and nothing was going to stop him from displaying such a fact with endless pride in his heart. 

The attack had come by surprise, but Olberic was still doing his best to fight through it. He had no idea where the enemy soldiers had come from or who they were. Their armor was dark and nondescript, and Olberic didn't see much of a point to trying to pick out details from afar. Surviving had to be his first priority for the time being. He would be able to gather information after the fact, but that would be impossible if he didn't properly defend himself. 

A group of roughly eight enemy soldiers had cornered Olberic before he registered what was happening, and they all watched him with the same gaze that a hungry beast would give to its prey. He didn't care much for their expressions specifically, instead simply surging forward and slashing with as much force as he could muster. The leading soldier stumbled backwards, and the others followed him, suddenly seeming to realize that Olberic was not a man to be trifled with. 

"Hells, is he man or beast?!" the leading soldier cried out to no one in particular. Another of his men surged forward to try and attack Olberic in a show of boldness, but he wasn't able to get far. With a single swing of his sword, Olberic stole life from the soldier, and the man collapsed dead onto the stony ground of the Highlands a fraction of a moment later. "He's but one yet fights like a score!"

A third soldier attempted to attack, and Olberic ended that life just as swiftly. Another member of the enemy faction stepped forward, breathing heavily from the exertion that came with combat. "Gods have mercy... That's the Unbending Blade of Hornburg! Olberic Eisenberg!" the soldier cried out, panic seeping into his voice quickly and frantically. 

Olberic didn't care much for these formalities, and so, he simply leveled his sword in the direction of his enemies. "You know my name, and so, to business. Who will be the next to die?!" he cried out. He had to defend his homeland above all else, and he refused to yield in the face of those who would dare to harm the territory that he had come to treasure so dearly. 

"It's you who will be dying! Look about you--we have the numbers!" the leading soldier cried out, gesturing to the five other soldiers that still remained tall and proud before Olberic. All of them steeled themselves for the coming clash at those words, understanding the command that was bound to follow. 

"Enemy reinforcements on the left flank!" came the cry of another soldier that stepped forward from the crowd. Olberic didn't dare to look over his shoulder, but he could tell by the telltale echoes of footfall that reached his ears that his foe was correct. He would recognize the sound of his allies arriving at his side anywhere. 

"To Sir Olberic's side, men! The blackguards have had their way long enough!" came the cry of another commander from Hornburg. Olberic had met the man a few times due to his position within the army, but names mattered little to him on the battlefield. Thinking for too long about his relation to another man could have easily landed him in an early grave, and Olberic refused to die just yet. There was still much that he had left to do, and Hornburg had to be defended from those who would dare to threaten it before he could even consider surrendering his life to the gods above. 

The soldiers behind Olberic were preparing to charge, and he could see as much by the look on the enemy commander's face. The soldier's eyes flickered with distress, anger, and panic before he shook his head. "Bah! It matters not! We're done here! Sound the retreat! Withdraw to the rallying point!" he proclaimed to the soldiers behind him that had managed to survive their confrontation with the Unbending Blade. The enemies were gone in the blink of an eye, retreating without any care for those that they had left behind. The flames of the battlefield began to ease, even if it was only slightly. 

Olberic and the knight leading the charge of reinforcements began to move closer to the camp that they were calling their origin point in this battle. "Sir Olberic, I feared we would be too late," the knight confessed. The distant clashing of blades drew to a close as a horn resounded in the distance to mark the all too sudden retreat of the mysterious foes that had appeared specifically for this peculiarly climactic day. 

"Nothing I couldn't handle," Olberic assured the knight. He stopped where he was and looked at the nearby area. He had an awful feeling about this for some reason that he couldn't describe. "Can you hold this position?"

"You make for His Majesty's camp, sir?" the knight questioned, his eyes going wide with what appeared to be shock. Regardless, he didn't protest, instead gesturing for his soldiers to set up a defensive perimeter in the immediate vicinity. 

"Just so. Our foe attacked from both flanks, but we have no orders from the crown. This... Concerns me," Olberic said, finally allowing himself to give voice to his anxieties. To show weakness on the battlefield was to invite death, so he had refused to acknowledge such a thought process until he knew that it was safe to do so. 

The knight didn't seem to understand Olberic's concern though, and he looked to his superior quizzically. "His Majesty is well-guarded, sir..." the knight said. His confidence was wavering at the sight of Olberic's open concern, but he still seemed hesitant to display such a fact openly. 

"Sir Erhardt is with him. I know this," Olberic told the man, though this did little to stop his concern. It felt wrong of Olberic to use such a title on his closest companion, but he dared not to betray such a fact to the rest of the world. This was battle, after all, and Olberic knew that he had a certain image to maintain for the time being. 

"There is no stronger knight in the realm. Other than yourself, of course, m'lord," the knight told him, covering for his fumble haphazardly at the last moment. Olberic didn't notice, not taking insult to it in the slightest. "With Sir Erhardt at his side, surely His Majesty is in no danger..."

"Perhaps not," Olberic murmured. "But we must be certain. I would know how the battle unfolds. Besides, word from the king always lifts the men's spirits." He turned in the direction of the camp once again, ready to set off at a moment's notice. 

"As you wish, sir. We will hold this ground," the knight assured him with a concise and firm nod. 

"Be safe, and may the gods guide your blade," Olberic said. 

The knight responded with one final nod. "And yours, Sir Olberic." 

Olberic pivoted on his heel before leaving the area behind. The journey to the camp was arduous, much more so than he expected. There were corpses strewn in every direction, and while Olberic had long since moved past his open hatred for the sight of blood, something about this situation felt eerie. 

The closer that Olberic got, the more that he came to understand that his instincts had been correct. "Heavens have mercy..." he whispered. He recognized the men that were dead in this area, and he was suddenly incredibly aware of how loud his heartbeat sounded in his own ears. "His Majesty's own guard... Slain, to the very last man. Who could have done such a thing?"

However, there was one soldier that Olberic did not see among the fallen. Olberic would have normally been part of this particular group of fighters alongside his closest companion on the battlefield, and yet, his counterpart of combat was nowhere to be found. "Erhardt... Where is Erhardt?!" Olberic cried out. He threw himself back to his feet, immediately abandoning his investigation into the bodies, and began to run closer to the camp where the king was staying. 

When Olberic arrived, he was met with the sight of Hornburg's purple banners torn practically to shreds, leaving little left aside from scraps of fabric that barely clung to their posts. The stench of blood remained strong and revolting on the wind. The bright, royal colors of the king's tent could be seen in the distance, and one figure stood tall and proud before it, blade poised in preparation for a key strike. 

On the ground before the tent, King Alfred of Hornburg could be seen sprawled out among the grass. His hands were grasping futilely at what few blades of greenery had survived the battle, and he looked up at his assailant with betrayal, anguish, and grief in his gaze. "So... It was you..." Alfred murmured. 

The man in question had lengthy blonde hair that fell around his upper body in gentle curls that lacked any sense of rhyme or reason. His eyes were brown and as dark as the night itself, not in color but in intentions. He wore red and brown clothing that he had personally selected as a variation of the Hornburg uniform utilized by the knights, and a simple sword hung from one hand, on the verge of lashing out at the weakened man before him. 

Olberic's sprinting came to a halt roughly two yards away from the scene, and his jaw dropped at the sight of Alfred cornered by none other than Erhardt. Olberic could see the way that Erhardt's blade dripped with blood onto the grass below, and he let out a strangled gasp. "My liege!" he cried out. Erhardt turned to face Olberic, his gaze detached and passive, as the newcomer continued to shout. "Erhardt! What is the meaning of this?!"

Erhardt was silent in response, and when he turned to face the king, all it took was a single slash to end it all. Alfred didn't even have time to cry out in pain before he slumped against the ground, blood already seeping out of his mortal wound. Erhardt's expression lacked remorse, and there was a detached sense of bloodlust in the eyes that Olberic had once found so familiar and comforting against the chaos of the battlefield. 

Olberic could feel the way that his world slowed down in those moments. Every detail was both in perfect clarity and distant, as if he was viewing it through a window that was simultaneously perfectly clear and made of stained glass. "What... What have you done?!" Olberic shouted, unaware that he had spoken until after the words reached his ears. All that he could latch onto was the brightness of Erhardt's hair, the darkness of his eyes, and the boldness of crimson against a silvery blade. 

Erhardt took advantage of the moment of Olberic's surprise, and he rushed forward with his sword outstretched. Olberic barely managed to parry the hit to keep from being struck in the chest the same way that Alfred had been. Erhardt glared at him, his sword still glittering in the ominously minimal lighting. "Have you not eyes? The king is dead by my hand," Erhardt replied. He took a few steps towards the body once again, seeming to understand that Olberic would do little to follow him. 

Sure enough, Olberic was glued to the spot. "What madness... What treachery is this?!" Olberic roared. He should have rushed forward to defeat Erhardt in the name of justice and retribution for his king, but all Olberic could do was stand and stare. 

"No madness here, but call it treachery, if you will," Erhardt told Olberic. He glanced down at the body, his gaze passive and lacking in any sense of care towards the one that he had slain mere moments prior. 

"I thought you a friend... A brother!" Olberic screamed. He was rushing forward with his blade outstretched a moment later, but all it took was one blow from Erhardt for Olberic to be forced to his knees, using his sword as a way of keeping Erhardt from delivering a killing strike. 

"Brothers indeed. How many times did we cross swords like this in the practice yards?" Erhardt questioned, clearly not seeking an answer. "And how many times have I told you? I see your every move, your every strike before it falls."

"As I see yours," Olberic told Erhardt, practically seething with rage. His mind was intent on only repeating one thought again and again in a dizzying, tempestuous rotation. Betrayal, treachery, king is dead, Erhardt stabbed me in the back, how could he--

"Ah, but you've not seen everything. I saved one trick for the day I knew would come," Erhardt interrupted, glancing down to the king's body. He offered the corpse of the ruler one final sneer, not seeming to care about the blatant falsity to the action. 

Olberic didn't give him the chance to finish such an action. He ran forward with his sword prepared for combat, and Erhardt did much the same. The rest of reality seemed to fall away, little more than a distant memory in comparison to the clashing of steel. The battlefield was silent, and those who had fought so valiantly in the defense of Hornburg's king had all fallen defending what they believed to be righteousness. Erhardt and Olberic were the last, traitorous scoundrel and loyal knight respectively. Even after all images disappeared, vanishing into the void of memory, the sounds remained, though they were merely an echo of the agony that was brought down upon countless hearts that fateful day in Hornburg... 

~~~~~

Reality presented itself in a much different manner when Olberic arose from slumber. He was met with the familiar four walls of his small home, and the hearth sat empty near his bed. The space was plain, lacking any of the passion and vitality that Olberic had come to know within himself when he was a soldier. "Always the same dream..." Olberic whispered to himself. 

Eight long years had passed since the fall of Hornburg. They had been eight years of bitter pain and agony for Olberic, and he was haunted by the failures of that day even ages after the fact. He had long since put away his blue clothing that he had worn that day when Hornburg fell. After his final confrontation with Erhardt ended in a draw, they had gone their separate ways. Hornburg was no more, and few had spoken the name of the once-powerful city-state in the past eight years. The death of the king had prompted a spiral that allowed for that strange group of soldiers bearing the dark armor from that day to storm through Hornburg. Everything was lost in those few quick weeks. The survivors of Hornburg's fall were few and far between since those soldiers had massacred the occupants of the city-state and put any traces of the settlement to the torch. Olberic was the only one who he knew of that had managed to come out the other side, and it had only been thanks to luck that he survived. His comrades and family had not been so lucky, and he was the only shell of a memory that seemed to remain of Hornburg's former proud existence. 

Going through the daily motions had long since become a mindless task for Olberic, and he barely gave his actions any thought as he prepared for what was to come. He had settled down in a Highlands village known as Cobbleston since the fall of Hornburg. It had been his unofficial home, though it did little to compare to his memories of Hornburg. His title of knight had been set aside, and he claimed a new name as a way of hiding himself from those who could seek to defeat the survivors of Hornburg's fall. Olberic Eisenberg had been shortened to simply 'Berg', and the alias had defended him from the hardships of potential combat up to that point. It was hardly fitting of Olberic's past, but it kept him alive, and that was all that he could ask for. 

Olberic had slipped into his brown clothing, a hollow replica of the uniform that he had once worn with such pride, when he heard a knock at the door. He reached for his blade and attached it to his belt as he looked up to the entrance of the house. He already knew who it was that was seeking his attention. There was only one person who would come to visit Olberic so early in the morning, and the knock was just as Olberic had come to recognize as familiar over the course of the past eight years. 

"Ah, Philip. What is it?" Olberic questioned, speaking loudly enough to ensure that Philip would be able to hear him on the other side of the door. 

"Crivens! How did you know it was me, sir?" came the soft voice of Philip from outside the building. The inflection and tone were just as Olberic had expected. Life in Cobbleston was routine and predictable, and Philip's visit was nothing out of the ordinary for him. Well, it was nothing new to Berg, but for Olberic, life had once told a very different story. 

Philip entered soon afterwards, and Olberic offered his response as he took in the appearance of the brown-haired boy with eyes as bright as the most precious of deep topaz. "One must always be on his guard, even when he rests," he explained, and part of him wondered if perhaps that alertness was the reason that he was still plagued by nightmares that acted as fragments of a shattered past. "Yes, a knight--"

Olberic stopped. He shook his head. "No. I am no knight. Just a man with a sword and nothing more..." he said simply. He had lost the title of knight the day that Hornburg fell. He was now simply a blade, lacking in purpose to wake up each morning. Everything had been taken from him when Hornburg collapsed, and when Erhardt's blade came down upon Alfred's chest, Olberic's hope and optimism towards the world had disappeared from his grasp as well. 

"If you say so, sir," Philip told him, seemingly uncaring as to Olberic's brief slip of the tongue. Philip's innocence and kindness were refreshing when compared to the demons that Olberic was used to battling in the night, and he was glad to have been given the chance to see such a kind face upon awakening from his terrors. "But there's lots of men that carry swords that can't do half of what you do!" Philip was so wrapped up in his words that he almost allowed his purpose to slip his mind. "Oh, I almost forgot, sir! The headman's lookin' for ya. Says he wants a word. He didn't say about what."

"Tell him I'm on my way," Olberic said. Philip nodded and gave a salute to Olberic, his eyes gleaming with a brightness that could only be found in childhood. He turned on his heel and dashed out of the room a moment later, leaving only Olberic in the room. 

As soon as Philip vanished, Olberic's shoulders sagged, and he let out a sigh. It was incredible how the world behind his closed eyes could present such a different picture than the life that he had come to know in present times. In Olberic's dreams, he was a knight, a proud defender of the weak who stood by his liege armed only with his sense of justice and a wish to look after those around him. In reality, he was little more than a mercenary who had taken to teaching youths of Cobbleston how to utilize a blade. He defended the village from the occasional attack by bandits or monsters, but that was all there was to his existence. Life was far from being as glamorous or romantic as it once had been, but what did he have to complain about? He had a roof over his head, food on his plate, and his life at his fingertips. Not all others were quite so lucky, and he was fully aware of such thanks to his history as a soldier. 

Not a day went by when Olberic didn't think about how life would be if the events at Hornburg had turned out differently. If he had been just a little bit faster, he could have saved Alfred from the fall of Erhardt's sword. If he had seen what was going on behind those deep, dark eyes of Erhardt's, the battle could have been prevented. If he had noticed the shadows that seemed to slink around the eyes of others, no people would have had to die. However, he knew the reality and the gravity of the situation, and no amount of dreaming or praying would change that. He had failed, and life would never be the same again. History had been written, and it was impossible for him to reverse the hands of time and make a new path for himself. 

Life was a mystery to him in a way that he struggled to describe. Olberic did not know what his purpose was meant to be, and he had not understood such a concept for many years, not since Olberic was still standing. What was he meant to do when there was nothing left of the home that he had given so much to defend? The person that he had done so much for no longer drew breath, so what was he meant to do?

"One thing I do know is that I owe this village a debt, a debt I intend to repay," Olberic said to himself as he looked down at his sword once again. It was the same time-weathered blade that he had been using since he had been a knight of Hornburg, and having it at his side was a comfort to him even in his most tempestuous of times. "But that's enough brooding for one morning. The headman's waiting."

Olberic left his house soon afterwards, and he was met with the typical muted color scheme of Cobbleston. In a way, it was all too fitting that Cobbleston seemed so dreary in palette. The houses were all muted in their shades, and the ground was a deep gray that seemed symbolic of the color of Olberic's very soul. He didn't know if it was because of his lack of passion that the town appeared so dark or if that was simply how Cobbleston always had been. He doubted that he would ever find an answer. 

"Berg, sir!"

Olberic perked up at the sound of his falsified name, and he could see a pair of youths walking towards him. They were young men in their late teens, and Olberic had been teaching them among a handful of others how to handle a sword. After all, they had to be able to defend themselves in the case of a nasty scenario presenting itself. 

"Dawn patrol, sir! Nothing to report!" said the second of the two youths, the one who hadn't spoken before. Both he and his companion came to stand in front of Olberic's house, offering him some space but still remaining close enough to seem personable. 

"Good to hear it," Olberic told them, though the words came out of his lips primarily by habit rather than true care. Olberic noticed that there were two of them a moment later, and a frown appeared on his lips. "Two of you today? Usually only one man does the morning rounds."

"Aye, sir. Headman thought it best. There's brigands in the hills of late," the first young man explained. He tilted his head backwards in the direction that he and his companion had come from. Olberic recognized it as the hills leading to a set of caves near town, though none of the people of Cobbleston ever traveled that way without purpose. The path to the caves were known for being a home of monsters such as ratkin, and while Olberic was used to fighting them after years of experience, that didn't mean that he liked them, and he was the most qualified out of the people in the town. 

"Poor merchant gutted for his coin purse just yesterday. Was a grisly sight, sir," the second one said, wincing as he spoke the words. The other young man present nodded his agreement, concern overcoming his expression. 

"These are dangerous times. One can never be too careful," Olberic agreed. He gave the concept a moment of thought before speaking once again. "I hear the headman is looking for me."

The second youth nodded. "Ah, he mentioned that, sir. He should still be over in the square," he explained. He glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the street that would lead them deeper into town. 

"Now, if you'll excuse us, sir... Morning patrol, resume rounds!" the first young man declared. His friend nodded, and the two went off into the heart of Cobbleston, leaving Olberic alone outside his home on the outskirts of town. There was some deep part of him that felt as if seeing two young men, close companions in combat and other matters of life, still broke his heart in half. Olberic did his best to silence the thought and his lingering memories of Erhardt before walking towards the square of the town. 

When Olberic arrived, he could clearly see the headman speaking with another occupant of the town, a young mother that Olberic had spoken to on many different occasions. He didn't catch any of their conversation though, as when he strayed too close, the headman perked up and turned to face him with a kind smile on his face. "Ah, Berg. There you are," the headman remarked kindly. 

Upon closer examination, Olberic realized that the young woman that the headman had been speaking with was none other than Philip's mother. "Good morning to you, sir," she told him with a gentle smile. 

"Morning to you both," Olberic said with a cordial nod. "Philip said you wanted to speak to me."

"Yes, yes. I'll get straight to the point. We've had reports of bandits in the hills," the headman explained, his gaze drifting to the path leading up to Olberic's home and the outskirts of the town. 

"I see you've doubled the patrols," Olberic commented, his mind going back to the young men that had approached him outside of his house that morning. 

"Yes... I was also hoping to ask for your aid," the headman went on. "With bandits lurking, the villagers daren't venture into the hills. We cannot check the traps nor collect firewood... It's quite the predicament, to say the least."

Olberic nodded. "Leave it to me. Where can I find these thieves?" His hand was on his blade by pure instinct, and he knew that he had to be ready in case anything went south during the encounter.

"As for the precise location of their den, I fear I cannot say. I sent some o the men out searching, but..." The headman's voice trailed off before he cleared his throat and continued. "In the meantime, could you put the militia through their drills? Our men are keen, but they don't know a pommel from a pike, if you get my meaning."

"Consider it done," Olberic replied. He turned to leave the area, but he was ultimately interrupted from doing so. 

Philip's mother's voice reached his ears. "Ah, sir? If it would not be a burden, might my Philip join in the training?" she questioned. 

Olberic chuckled to himself. "If he is willing, so am I."

"Oh, he's more than willing, sir, I assure you. Been pesterin' me for weeks to ask you!" Philip's mother exclaimed with a laugh. Her expression was tired, something that had come to be traditional behavior for her over the years. 

"That's a brave lad!" the headman proclaimed, and Philip's mother nodded along with pride and agreement. "The boy has pluck and ambition. He could find a worse man to look up to than Berg here."

The woman's shoulders sagged. "Ever since my husband died... In the war of Hornburg, you know... It's just... The boy's getting to that age when he needs a father..." When she noticed Olberic's shocked expression, she corrected herself. "Oh, no! I did not mean to say--"

"Your boy is already a credit to the village," Olberic cut in. "It would be my honor to train him."

"You are too kind, sir," Philip's mother said, a gentle yet weary smile appearing on her face. She appeared to be on the verge of tears thanks to his kindness, not that she would ever confess such a fact openly. 

"It's settled then. Train the lad well, and see that he does his mother proud," the headman declared. Olberic simply nodded, a firm promise of his intentions, before walking away. 

That was perhaps the reason that Olberic had found himself in Cobbleston of all places. Philip's mother had been grieving by the time that Olberic arrived, and he heard through the grapevine that her husband had been a knight of Hornburg who fell in combat. She and Philip lived in Cobbleston since the city life was overwhelming for a new mother, and that had spared their lives. Philip had been much younger when Olberic first appeared to Cobbleston, and in a way, it felt like fate that he had stumbled upon those connected to Hornburg by pure chance. It was a reason for him to stay, and he appreciated it more than he could ever say, not that he would ever be able to confess it. After all, he was simply Berg, and the world would never hear the truth otherwise. 

He shook the thoughts free of his mind as the young men of Cobbleston's militia approached. He had a job to do, and he couldn't neglect it after making a promise to the headman. Thoughts of Hornburg would have to wait, and part of Olberic thought that perhaps that was for the best. Any moment that he was distracted was a good moment as far as he was concerned. 

Chapter Text

It took roughly half an hour for Olberic to take the members of the militia through their regular drills. It was a normal routine for him by that point, and he scarcely minded it. For a few brief minutes, he was able to pretend that he still had a reason to swing his blade beyond mere necessity. He was passing his skills on so that the next generation might one day understand them, and that was something that Olberic could take pride in. After many difficulties from the past involving his sense of purpose, he felt almost uncomfortably fine with slipping into the mask of having a reason to fight once again. 

However, training did not come and go without any issues in Olberic's eyes. The two soldiers that Olberic put the most time into training were the members of the patrol that had gone searching through the hills of Cobbleston that morning. They were both competent fighters in their own ways, yes, but Olberic could tell that if they combined their prowess in combat, they would be able to create something far greater than the sum of their parts. Offering such advice to the young men came with a twist of bitter jealousy to him. 

Deep down, Olberic knew that he was in no position to envy those who were so much younger than he was. It was an immature action, and he didn't want to indulge the darkest shadows of his daily life. However, the way that the two young men fought together reminded him all too much of his past with Erhardt. One of the two fighters had light hair and dark eyes while the other had brown hair so deep that it bordered on being black. Everything about them in personality was different from what Olberic had come to understand during his connection with Erhardt, but the similarities still overwhelmed him. 

He and Erhardt had fought together for many years, and that was one reason that the betrayal on Erhardt's part had come as such a bitter punch to the stomach. Olberic had trusted Erhardt more than any other, sharing secrets that he would never dream of telling to any other. Erhardt had accepted them all with a carefully-constructed smile and eyes that made it clear he could be trusted with anything. In the end, such faith was misguided as Erhardt raised his blade and used it to slay the one person that had brought them together in the first place. Erhardt had never appeared so out of his element and lost prior to that moment, but Olberic couldn't hep but feel if perhaps that had all been a figment of his imagination. For all he knew, Olberic was simply trying to convince himself that Erhardt was still a good man as a way of lessening the deep stab of betrayal and denial that had come the moment that Erhardt swung downwards to take Alfred's life. 

Olberic watched with distant, shaded eyes as the two young men made their way towards the hills of Cobbleston once again, no doubt off to test their skills against any rogue ratkin that just so happened to get in their way. Olberic was completely silent, unable to bring himself to say a word. He could see such innocence and hope for the world in the eyes of those two young men, and it reminded him all too much of the care that he had come to recognize in his own gaze from when he was young. Erhardt had once possessed that same optimism as well, though it had always been jaded in retrospect. Were Olberic's reminiscent moments being altered through hindsight because of Erhardt's betrayal? Perhaps it was simply a figment of his imagination that he had planted in his past images because he was too afraid to confess the truth of the matter behind Erhardt's treachery. 

The sound of footsteps against the cobbled ground below pulled Olberic out of his thoughts, and he forced his stony expression into a mask of effortless passiveness to keep anyone from intruding on what was passing through his mind. "Sir! Me next, please!" came Philip's cry as he dashed towards Olberic. His smile was so full of youth and life that it almost hurt to see, like a star of innocence that glowed so bright because it was undoubtedly going to flicker out soon. 

Olberic shook his head in response to Philip. The young boy didn't show any signs of picking up on his moment of tempestuous thought, and for that, Olberic was thankful. "You are not ready yet. You need to work on your form," he instructed simply yet sternly. Philip sagged in response, and Olberic's expression softened. "Do the drills as I showed you, and you'll be sparring soon enough. You have talent, lad."

Philip's face lit up even more than previously as he dashed towards Olberic. "I do?" he questioned. His eyes were practically glowing with the radiant light of hope, and it seemed almost strong enough to overwhelm the demons that lived inside of the darkest recesses of Olberic's mind.  

Olberic nodded to the young boy. "Not many boys your age take to the sword so quickly, and I've trained my share," he assured Philip. He allowed one hand to rest on the hilt of his blade as he fell into a slightly more relaxed stance, though his eternal sense of tension still remained. 

"Crivens! Thanks, sir!" Philip cried out, and Olberic gave the young boy a fraction of a smile. Philip turned away and looked at the ground with something akin to shy anxiety. "My father... He's, you know... Gone, sir. Died in the war."

Olberic's shoulders remained knotted with tension as he recalled the stories that he had heard years prior of what happened to Philip's father. The man had been yet another casualty of Hornburg's fall, yet another victim to the actions of Erhardt. "So I've heard," Olberic told Philip carefully, choosing each syllable with excessive deliberation to ensure that they were correct. 

"Mother's looked after me ever since. All on her own, sir," Philip murmured, his eyes falling shut. "But soon... Soon I'll be a man grown, and it'll be my turn to take care of her!" The love that gleamed in his gaze when he looked up to Olberic was almost overwhelming, and Olberic recalled that same emotion overwhelming him when he was younger. It had been under different circumstances, but it was present all the same. 

"She is a lucky woman to have a son so brave," Olberic said, painting on the facade of maturity and dignity regardless of his past concerns with thoughts of romance and love. That hardly mattered anymore. He was in Cobbleston, not Hornburg, and the people that he may or may not have loved once upon a time were no longer any of his concern. Such was part of his mask as Berg, a simple mercenary rather than a knight deprived of liege and purpose. 

"So you see why I've got to get stronger, sir!" Philip chirped. "I have to protect Mother and everyone else in the village! After all she's done for me, I owe her that much!" He appeared to be less of a child in that instant and more of a poet and a dreamer seeking a better future. The entire world rested in the palm of his hands as far as Philip was concerned, and he intended to do everything he can to prove himself worthy of it. 

Olberic, on the other hand, felt as if his world had been taken away, and he was left to deal with the aftermath for nearly a decade. He had once had someone to protect as well. He had looked after Hornburg, its king, and its people with everything he had, but the outcome of such a duty was clear as could be. Everything had fallen apart, and there was nothing he could do to reverse the flow of time to remedy such a series of events. He would have to live with the hopelessness and weight of his own failures for the rest of his life, and he would never be able to change such an undoubtable truth. 

"Sir?"

Philip's voice drew Olberic out of his memories and into the present once again. Hornburg was gone, but Cobbleston still stood. Philip was still there with him, and Olberic was Berg now. That was what he had to keep reminding himself of when he considered the rest of his life. The past, for all of its beauties in Olberic's memories, was not something that he could be trapped in forever. 

Olberic cleared his throat to cover for his moment of dissipated confidence. "It's nothing, lad. Just old memories. Keep at your training, and you'll be a strong man before long," he assured the young boy. 

"I will, sir!" Philip cried out, saluting to Olberic with all of the precious innocence that lived in his small body. Philip pivoted on his heel and dashed away after that, leaving Olberic alone in Cobbleston's town square. He didn't realize how oppressive the silence was until after Philip was already gone, but by that point, it was already too late. 

Olberic shook his head. He needed a distraction, and he needed it as soon as possible. He could do a round of the town, and that would be fine to keep himself occupied mentally. As long as he was doing something, he would be fine. The flashbacks were particularly brutal that day for some unprecedented reason, though Olberic had an awful feeling about it. His dreams had long been premonitions of terrors to come, and even though he lacked the ability to see what was to come in the future, he could sense when there was something about to go wrong. It was a strange power that he had come to understand in the loosest sense of the word, and Olberic had learned to trust such an instinct. It would overwhelm him if he wasn't careful with it, but he knew better than to dismiss his concerns outright. 

Olberic was halfway up the stairs leading to the upper area of town when he heard the scream that rent the air like a stray fragment of lightning. A chill ran up his spine as he realized that his fears regarding his dreams were coming true all too soon with stunning brutality. Olberic reached for his sword as the slamming of footsteps against the stones below echoed in his ears. 

Olberic soon learned that the newcomer was none other than the light-haired young man who had reminded him so much of Olberic for some unholy reason that morning. "Brigands! We're under attack!" cried the young fighter. His sword hand was shaking, like the blade was on the verge of falling out of his hand. As soon as he saw Olberic and realized that the warrior had heard him, the young man dashed up the stairs once again, knowing that the savior of Cobbleston was bound to follow. Sure enough, Olberic did little in the ways of hesitation as he dashed up the stairway. He was already pulling his sword from its sheath, knowing that it would undoubtedly need to be utilized in the coming battle. He had vowed to protect Cobbleston, and so, he would. No brigand or thief would ever be able to stop him from fulfilling what meager purpose he still had left in his life. That was something Olberic was going to make sure of. 

By the time that Olberic arrived, there were three other young men from the militia gathered at the path that led into the hills. They were squaring off against three bandits that wore torn clothing and expressions twisted into snarls. "Bah! These dirty peasants don't know their place!" came the shout of one of the brigands. He held an imposing axe that glittered dull and ominous in the morning sunshine. It had clearly known the taste of bloodshed many times in the past, and the owner of the blade would not hesitate to coat the weapon in crimson copper once again. 

"We've got more strength! Surround 'em!" came the voice of another brigand as he pointed his axe in the direction of the militia fighters. Even in the face of such a threat, the young men held their ground, swords primed in case they had to lash out. They had been trained many times before, but nothing could have gotten them ready for what a true taste of steel could bring when the battlefield released its reign of terror. 

"Stick a blade in their backs before the boss finds out swineherds slowed us down!" the third brigand shouted. He was quick to dash forwards along with the other brigands at his side. All it took was a quick clash of blades for the brigands to be repelled a few feet as cuts opened in their upper arms. The watchmen had been swift yet merciful, but the brigand that had goaded them onwards roared in pain regardless before continuing to speak. "Damn it all! These swineherds know how to fight!"

Olberic was at the scene of the fight a moment later, his sword raised in preparation for the fight at hand. He hadn't fought against another human being in so long, having grown used to sharpening his blade against only monsters and whetstone. One of the watchmen cried out his name, but Olberic barely seemed to notice thanks to the influence of the fight at hand. He spared them only a single glance over his shoulder. "Good work, men. You did well to hold them off," Olberic told the watchmen with a muted sense of pride that could only be found in moments of intense combat. "But I'll take over from here." 

Olberic's words were both a promise and a threat, and the leading brigand seemed to notice such a fact. "And who in the hells are you supposed to be?!" he exclaimed angrily. His damaged pride didn't allow him to shout the words without desperation and anguish leaking into his tone. He appeared to be ready to rush towards Olberic then and there, but what little sense of reason he had continued to hold him back. 

"He's a bleedin' fool if he thinks he can take us all!" another brigand cried out. He had completely recovered from the previous hit that he had taken at the hands of the Cobbleston militia's soldiers. Olberic didn't give him the time of day, neglecting a response in favor of simply leveling his blade in the direction of the brigands once more. 

"So ye's got a fancy blade, eh? I know yer sort, hedge knight. I've cut down my share o' yer betters," one of the other brigands said in a drawl so heavy that it was almost difficult to understand. He allowed his axe to fully reflect the sunshine as if the blade would act as proof of the men that he had killed in times of the past. 

"I'm telling ye... This one's trouble," came the voice of one of the brigands. His voice oozed caution and confidence simultaneously, like he was sure that not even all the power in the world would be able to keep the brigands from overwhelming and defeating Olberic. 

"You both have the right of it. I'm but a common hedge knight with no name to speak of," Olberic told them, and it didn't taste as much like a lie as it would have under different circumstances. He had lost his name and title years ago when Hornburg fell, and those accolades meant nothing to anyone at present, and he wasn't about to pretend otherwise. "But if you've come looking for trouble... You've found it."

"Stow it or I'll cut out your tongue!" a brigand shouted sharply, priming his weapon to punctuate the threat. He sunk into a combative stance, a sign that the battle was set to begin soon afterwards. 

"Enough prattle! Let's skewer him!" the leader of the trio cried out. From there, it didn't take long for all three of the brigands to surge forward in Olberic's directions, blades at the ready for the battle that was to come. 

Olberic allowed his sword to guide him into the first strike. He blocked a blow from a rusted axe before delivering a sharp jab at the arm of the one who had held the blade. The brigand stumbled backwards in response, and another one of the enemies came up on Olberic while he was focused on the first assailant. It didn't take long for Olberic to do the same to the second one of his attackers, knocking the axe from his hand with one blow that hardly lacked any skill. The bandit cried out in anguish as he began to grip his fingers, which were starting to bleed from a notable cut near the base of his knuckles. He scrambled to recover his axe so that he could continue fighting, but it was clear that he had already been sufficiently rattled by the situation. 

The leader of the trio tried to come down on Olberic while he was distracted, and Olberic took a step back to keep from being hit. He swept his sword down low, knocking the man's feet out from under him. The cut that resulted from the strike sent the leader of the brigands crashing down to the ground, and he let out a snarl as he thrust his axe in Olberic's direction. It was easy for the former knight to step out of the way of the hit and then deliver another jab in the direction of the man's shoulder. That was enough to convince the brigand to give up for at least a few fleeting moments. 

The other two bandits were back and ready to continue fighting, and Olberic jumped out of the way of a pair of axe swings before slashing his sword through the air. Both of the men suffered from notable cuts on their arms, one on his right and the other on his left. They were left to nurse their injuries soon after the fact, and Olberic thrust his sword forward, sending one of the axes back to the ground. It didn't take long before the other man dropped his axe and turned on his heel. 

From there, Olberic stood tall and proud as he watched both of the underling bandits run for the hills of Cobbleston, trails of blood tracing in their wake. Olberic saw no reason to follow them, understanding that he had a job to do. Protecting Cobbleston had to be his first priority above everything else, and all other concepts of justice could wait. 

The leader of the three bandits was still on the ground, and his axe was laying before him. Olberic placed one foot on the blade of the weapon before sliding it backwards towards the other patrolmen that were still standing near him. None of them had dared to interfere in the fight, seeming to understand that they would only hold back Olberic when push came to shove. Olberic was the strongest of the bunch, and in a battle where stakes were life and death, they had to trust him to handle the situation. 

"You..." the bandit snarled as he looked up at Olberic. In return, Olberic watched him with a passive, detached glare. "Ye can handle a blade, aye, but this ain't the end of it. When the boss hears 'bout this, yer a dead man, ye hear?"

Olberic's eyes narrowed, and he didn't give the brigand the pleasure of seeing any other reaction. "We'll see about that, won't we?" he questioned. He took a step forward, pointing his sword in the direction of the brigand. The bandit growled in response, ready to fight tooth and nail for his life even when he lacked any weapons to fight with in the face of an experienced fighter who could cut him down in the blink of an eye. 

"Help! My boy!"

"Let me go, you ugly--ngh?!"

The familiar pair of voices reached Olberic's voice despite their origin point being somewhere else in Cobbleston. That was Philip and his mother. He would know those voices anywhere. Olberic grunted and glanced in the direction of the stairway back to the center of town while still keeping an eye on the brigand that was standing before him. The bandit began to sneer, and Olberic felt his stomach drop into his feet. 

The brigand hauled himself to his feet and smirked in Olberic's direction. "Goodbye, hedge knight," he said simply before turning on his heel and dashing away into the hills. His previous injuries did little to hamper his escape. Part of Olberic was tempted to chase after him, but he knew that he had a mission still, and he wasn't going to be able to accomplish said duty if he gave in and allowed this temporary lapse in judgement control him. 

Instead of giving chase, Olberic dashed down the stairs of Cobbleston to the main area of the town. He could see a large crowd of villagers, all notably terrified and shaken from the events that had just taken place. One of the men was on one knee as he tended to a cut that had formed across the front of his lower leg. The headman was nearby, one hand placed firmly on the shoulder of Philip's mother. There were tear tracks on her face, and her cheeks had grown pink from crying. She was inconsolable, her eyes wild with fear and shattered instincts. 

"Oh, Berg, sir!" Philip's mother cried out, her hands shaking violently as she approached him on trembling legs. "They... They took him from me! My poor Philip... He was trying to protect me, but those... Those animals...!"

"Damn it all!" Olberic shouted before he could stop himself. The attack from the hills had been a distraction. The bandits had Cobbleston surrounded from the start, and they were going to get what they wanted one way or another. In the end, their solution of choice had been to take a hostage to ensure that the town surrendered to their needs and wishes of extortion. Olberic cursed himself for not seeing through it sooner. He should have known that there was something wrong thanks to his expansive history with combat, but he had been too near-sighted to notice. He should have done something to protect the rest of the town, but because he had failed, Philip was gone. 

He had been too near-sighted to notice Erhardt too, whispered a voice in the back of his mind. He should have done something to protect Alfred, but because he had failed, Hornburg was gone.

"Forgive me, sir..." came the weak voice of the man on the ground. Olberic's senses snapped into place and finally gave him the chance to recognize the man in question as the captain of the militia of Cobbleston, and his expression was torn apart by guilt and terror. "There were so many of them, and--"

"It doesn't matter now! We have to save the lad!" cried one of the patrolmen that had watched Olberic's encounter with the bandits near the entrance to the hills outside the town. 

"We know where they are now," another patrolman pointed out as he inclined his head in the direction of the upper portions of the town. "They're holed up in a cave deep in the mountains."

"Then let's go!" came the voice of the first patrolman. "Gods only know what they'll do to him..." He and his companions began to start up the path to the hills of the town. Olberic watched their retreating backs for a moment. 

"Wait."

Upon hearing the simple word from Olberic, the patrolmen turned, his face painted with shock and anguish. "But, sir! We have to do something! They might kill the boy!" one of the patrolmen shouted. Out of the corner of his vision, Olberic saw Philip's mother flinch, and the tears in her eyes seemed to appear with renewed vigor before starting to stream silently down her face. She held back a sob, and her body wracked with the motion. 

"If you leave now, who will protect the village if the thieves return?" Olberic pointed out. When none of the patrolmen had an answer, he continued. "No... You would be playing right into their hands."

"Gods have mercy," one of the patrolmen said softly with a shake of his head. "Is there nothing we can do, sir?"

Olberic took a few steps in the direction of the stairs leading towards the edges of town. "I'll go after the boy," he replied. 

"Alone?!" came the agape shout of shock from one of the patrolmen. "But, sir, even you--"

"You stay and guard the village at least until you're sure they're not coming back," Olberic cut in, his gaze hardened with fierce determination. "I'll bring Philip back safely. That much I swear to you."

"Chief?" Philip's mother asked in a quiet, broken tone as she turned in the direction of the headman. Her body shifted with another oncoming sob, but she did her best to keep it from being too noticeable. Olberic saw it anyways. 

The headman of the town was quiet for a long moment before he made solemn eye contact with Olberic. "You are the boy's--our only hope. Can you do this, Berg?" he questioned, speaking every word with all of the weight in the world. 

Olberic simply nodded. "Consider it done," he replied. He turned on his heel to walk away, but he was ultimately cut off by a familiar voice reaching his ears once again. 

"Please, sir! Bring him back safe!" Philip's mother exclaimed, practically begging with Berg to return her son to her arms. The desperation in her gaze could not be understated, and it cut Olberic right to his core. 

"You have my word," Olberic told her simply. Philip's mother allowed her shoulders to sag with relief, and the area fell silent as Olberic began to make his preparations to set off and save Philip from the reaches of the brigands.

~~~~~

The road to Cobbleston was, all things considered, much more dangerous than Cyrus had anticipated. 

It wasn't as if Cyrus was particularly aware of how the travel was between different regions of the continent, but he did know that seeing so many bandits crowded together around Cobbleston was odd. Many of them appeared to be retreating to some unseen nest hidden deep within the mountains, nestled among the grayed stones of the Highlands grounds. Cyrus found himself holding tightly to his staff in case he had to unleash a magical spell at a moment's notice. Ophilia hid the Ember farther beneath her cape than she had previously, her paranoia palpable enough to make Tressa agitated beyond what was natural for her. 

By the time that the group had arrived on the stairs of Cobbleston, Tressa seemed ready to practically explode with relief. Ophilia placed a comforting hand on Tressa's shoulder as she began to navigate her way through the town. It quickly became apparent to all of them that Cobbleston was not the peaceful place that they had been anticipating, and the town itself seemed to practically breathe panic and fear. 

The townspeople of Cobbleston were buzzing amongst themselves, whispering in fear and paranoia. Cyrus could not hear the words being said, but given that there were bandits that had been fleeing from the area of Cobbleston, it was easy enough for him to put the pieces together. The brigands had invaded Cobbleston only to be repelled, and that was why everyone was so nervous. They were trying to pull the pieces of their lives back together in the aftermath of what they had assumed at the time would be the end of everything they had come to know and love. 

Cyrus' gaze continued to flicker throughout the town before his eyes eventually settled on one person who didn't appear to be like the rest. The people of Cobbleston were all simple folk, going about their daily lives in a sleepy, monotonous routine, but this man held a strange sense of purpose. His sword gleamed in a foreign way that sent a strange sensation running up Cyrus' spine. There was something off about this character, and Cyrus wondered if perhaps this man would be the one able to offer details about what all had taken place as of late. 

Olberic's shoulders were tense as he gathered together a handful of supplies, and his face was practically knitted into a snarl that was barely contained. His strong sense of justice could be sensed a mile away, and Cyrus allowed himself to be pulled in by it. Even after Tressa let out a nervous yelp at the idea of Cyrus approaching someone who appeared to be so openly hostile in the face of adversity, the scholar pressed on. 

"Excuse me," Cyrus greeted simply as he tapped one finger against Olberic's shoulder. The man turned to face him, and Cyrus continued with a smile that was as open and personable as possible to keep Olberic from growing distressed and lashing out at him. "If you don't mind my asking, what is it that has transpired here? It appears as if something has gone wrong here in Cobbleston."

Olberic was tense at first, refusing to respond before releasing a sigh. "We were attacked by brigands from the hills, and they took a hostage in the form of a young boy," he said simply. 

"That's awful!" Ophilia cried, one hand flying to her mouth in surprise. "Please... Let us help you. There has to be something that we can do."

Olberic remained silent for another long moment before he nodded and gestured for the rest of the group to follow them. He had thoroughly examined them in the breath of quiet and decided that they were trustworthy, it seems. "Come. I'll explain as we start moving." With that said, he began to walk towards the top area of the town. Cyrus, Ophilia, and Tressa glanced to one another briefly, and while none of them said a word, they all understood what was to come next. They followed after Olberic a few moments later without hesitation. 

Chapter Text

The path up to the cave where the bandits were staying was littered with rocks and ratkin. Luckily for the group, they functioned well as a unit, and Olberic felt like a natural extension of everything that Cyrus, Ophilia, and Tressa had already put together prior to his arrival in their lives. Olberic had explained his story to them as well, introducing himself as 'Berg', the hedge knight defending Cobbleston. He was in search of Philip, a young boy who had been taken hostage by the brigands when they invaded Cobbleston. 

Cyrus was, to be quite honest, confident that there was more to this story than met the eye. Olberic fought with much more gusto and confidence than any hedge knight he knew. Olberic's skills were refined, but he remained humble despite this, certain of his actions but never allowing his power with a blade to push him into the territory of believing that he was immune to downfall. He was impressive, in other ways, but Cyrus was sure that there was more to Olberic than he had been told initially. The name 'Berg' fell uncomfortably from his tongue, and Cyrus was confident that it was a lie. He didn't know what the truth of the situation was, but he was sure that he would figure it out soon enough. 

"I hope that we're able to get there in time..." Ophilia whispered. Ever since she had first appeared in Rippletide, her bleeding heart had become clear. She simply couldn't bring herself to turn her back on a person in pain, whether it be Tressa, the occupants of Rippletide, Olberic, or Philip. Her eyes seemed to shine with a special type of nobility whenever she assured the client of the hour that everything was going to be alright, and her gentle smile only allowed the point to hit closer to home. It didn't matter what the task was; if Ophilia though completing it was going to help people, she would follow through with it. 

"I hope so as well," Olberic murmured under his breath, his voice notably tense and strained. His sword had become stained with the blood of ratkin over the course of their journey, but he barely seemed to mind, too focused on the task at hand to even give his foes a second glance. His determination was as endless as it was terrifying, and Cyrus would have been lying if he said that he didn't admire Olberic's dedication to their current course of action. 

The group fell into a lapse of silence after that, but it wasn't long that they were bathed in quiet. A small rocky creature appeared out of the corner of Tressa's vision, and she turned towards it with a stab of her spear. From there, the magical barrage of attacks that came from Ophilia and Cyrus seemed to take care of the monster, and Olberic dealt the finishing blow without even batting an eyelash. He was moving again a moment later, and Cyrus spared a glance with Tressa, who still appeared to be rattled from the sudden battle, before moving on. 

The sound of voices reached their ears soon afterwards. Olberic was quick to put his arm out so that the group would remain quiet. Cyrus recognized the heavy accents as being similar to the methods of speaking that he had found in the voices of the pirates of Rippletide. Tressa and Ophilia seemed to make the same connection, and it wasn't long before Tressa's expression had become twisted with bitterness as she reached for her bow, undoubtedly because she was raring up for another inevitable fight. 

As soon as Tressa had primed her bow, Ophilia and Cyrus reached for their staffs. Olberic's hand rested on the pommel of his blade, and he began to walk towards the group of bandits. There were five of them, all bickering and laughing near a torch outside the cave's entrance. They were so caught up in themselves that they didn't even notice the arrival of Olberic and his companions for a few moments. 

When one of the bandits did notice, he stepped forward with a lopsided grin that was twisted with cruelty at the edges. "Look who's come! Have you lost somethin', hedge knight?" he asked, his voice mocking. The rest of the brigands joined in on laughing with him a moment later. 

"Move aside before I cut you in two," Olberic threatened, his voice as level and even as could be. His hand remained on the hilt of his blade, a clear promise that he would resort to violence if pushed the wrong way. 

"Ye have courage, I'll give you that," the bandit remarked with a shake of his head. He seemed to notice the rest of the group after speaking those words, and he gestured to Ophilia, Cyrus, and Tressa with a wave of his hand that lacked any sense of care. "Just who are ye, anyway?"

"You'll step aside if you know what's good for you," Olberic told the brigand, his voice filled with the threat of violence once again. 

"You're on our land now, hedge knight. We give the orders here," the bandit told him. His attempts at joking with Olberic had fallen flat, leaving his expression contorted with anger. Cyrus could tell by the shadows in the man's eyes that he was imagining all the ways that he could gut and torture this supposed hedge knight for daring to show signs of impertinence. 

After that, the bandit sunk into a combat stance, and the rest of his brigand companions did much the same. "Ye have skill, but ye're a man like any other, and ye'll bleed as red," the brigand threatened, his axe coming away from its home at his hip in one swift motion. "Get 'em!"

That was all it took for the dam to break open, and the other four brigands suddenly rushed forward. Olberic led the charge, and he stabbed his blade into the shoulder of the bandit that dared to stray too close to him. From there, all it took was a low sweep with his sword as he knocked the man's legs out from beneath him. The bandit dropped his weapon, a casual spear, along the way. Olberic reached for the lance and stabbed it into the brigand's chest, his expression as passive as could be. He kept the lance in his left hand after the fact, and Cyrus could tell by the way that Olberic held himself that he held more than a bit of experience in terms of lances as well as swords. 

The second of the bandits dared to stray too close to Tressa, and she jumped backwards with a small yelp. She sent an arrow firing into the man's shoulder from her bow, and the man dropped his axe to nurse his injury. Cyrus whispered under his breath and sent one hand pushing through the air towards his target. A bolt of fierce lightning slammed into the man's chest, and as the electric current tore through his body, he stopped moving. Cyrus spared a glance to Tressa, who nodded to him with utmost solemnity in response. 

The truth of Cyrus' actions was left unspoken. He had cut Tressa off in the way that he had so that she didn't have to live with the weight of being forced to turn to killing others in order to save Philip. Tressa didn't say anything about it, so Cyrus didn't either. Instead, he simply turned towards Ophilia. 

The cleric had her staff in her hands, and she slammed it over the head of one of the bandits. He stumbled backwards, and a moment later, Olberic appeared on the other side of the man. Olberic stabbed his sword into the brigand's stomach, prompting the bandit to roar in pain as he buckled towards the ground. From there, it was simply a matter of Ophilia bringing forth a light spell for the man to stop moving as his life ebbed away. 

Tressa had her lance in hand as she launched herself towards the fourth out of the five bandits, and after a quick stab, she let out a wind spell that sent the man flying backwards. Cyrus flicked his wrist, and a barrage of icicles flew freely towards the bandit. The brigand was pinned in place, left to struggle with no way of escaping as Olberic launched himself forward and finished everything with a quick stab to the chest. 

The only brigand left was the leader out of the bunch, and even though he was stronger than all of his comrades, it was clear that he was still rattled by the strength with which Cyrus and the rest of his party fought. His expression faltered briefly before he painted a smile back on his face and jumped forward with his axe glinting dangerously in the sunshine overhead. Ophilia sent a blast of light magic in his direction, sending him into a disoriented haze where he struggled to find his sense of balance once again. Tressa nocked an arrow on her bow and released it a moment later towards her target. His leg buckled from beneath him as the arrow made contact with his knee. 

That was the last straw for him, it seemed, as Cyrus' hand began to gleam with red light. A large inferno of flames spread towards the bandit, and with two simple hits of fiery magic, the brigand let out a scream and stopped moving, left as nothing more than a husk on the ground outside the entrance to the cave. 

The area fell silent for a long time after that, as if the members of the group were just trying to make sure that they were still safe. Cyrus allowed himself to tuck his staff away in his satchel once again, and Tressa returned her bow to her bag as well. Much to Cyrus' surprise, Olberic kept the spear from the brigand in his hand, and he figured that Olberic was set to be using it as a placeholder weapon until they were able to get back to Cobbleston to purchase a blade of finer quality. After all, they had been in such a rush to go off and find Philip that Olberic's proficiency with lances had been neglected up to that point. 

"Let's go in," Olberic said a moment later as he returned his sword to its sheath. His lance remained at the ready in preparation for any battles that they were dragged into along the way. Cyrus nodded at Olberic, though his suspicions remained just as present as before regarding Olberic's true identity. There was more to this man than met the eye, and it was only a matter of time before the truth of the matter was brought to light, Cyrus was sure. Olberic was no simple hedge knight, and even Cyrus, someone who lacked experience with physical weapons, could see that much. 

Ophilia was the one who took the first step into the cave, and the Ember began to shine more notably in the darkened atmosphere of the cave. Olberic was right behind her while Tressa trailed in his footsteps. This left Cyrus at the tail end of the traveling party, not that he particularly minded. It was somewhat dark at his part of the group because he was so far from Ophilia, so Cyrus whispered a fire spell under his breath and created a small flickering light in the palm of his hand. He wasn't strong enough with light magic to be trusted to summon it for illumination, so fire would have to do for the time being. 

The cavern was much drier than the Caves of Maiya had been, and the ground was almost impossibly jagged under the influence of the rocks of the Highlands. A haphazard path had been carved among the stones, and because of how perilous the rest of the cave was in structure and layout, it was easy to assume that the bandits would be waiting at the end of the path. The entire cave was their domain, but they had to keep their treasures in one particular space far from the entrance to deter thieves from attempting to sneak inside and steal their wares. 

The squeak of a creature dwelling within the cave seemed to echo throughout the space, but Olberic didn't bother hesitating. He swung his blade without a moment of thought, and the monster stopped in its attack immediately. His skill with a spear was clearly just as impressive as his affinity with a sword, and it left Cyrus awestruck and in admiration of this strange man of Cobbleston. Cyrus had never had much of a wish to learn how to use physical weapons, and the only reason for his affinity with a staff was because staves often came with abilities to augment magical prowess. Still, as he watched Olberic in motion, Cyrus couldn't help but wonder if perhaps the way of the blade would be for him after all. It certainly intrigued him enough to force him to consider it when Olberic fought in such a way that so easily earned the attention of all others. 

It seemed as if the rest of the monsters in the cave understood that Olberic was not a person to be trifled with, and the group's journey through the brigands' den was surprisingly painless. Nobody dared to speak a word, too afraid of setting off their human adversaries. After all, there might have been monsters on the path to the end of the space, but the ones that they were truly meant to fear were human at the end of the day. 

However, shortly before the group could arrive at their destination, another monster appeared, and it brought with it a few of its brethren that held more strength than Cyrus would have expected. A battle broke out nearly immediately, and magic and weapons were brandished in preparation for the defensive clash to come. All the way through, Cyrus hoped that the young boy they were seeking, Philip, would be able to hold on for just a little bit longer. These bandits seemed somehow more ruthless than the pirates of Rippletide, and Cyrus could only pray to Alephan that they found Philip alive rather than as a corpse. 

~~~~~

There were three bandits positioned at the entrance to the plateau of space at the back of the cave where much of the brigands' loot was kept. Philip stood between the trio of bandits and the rest of the group. He was unchained, but his ankle had been injured when he attempted to fight back during his abduction. He kept weight off his damaged foot and glared down the bandits that had him trapped within the cave. His training blade, the one that Olberic had given him to sharpen his skills, was discarded on the ground nearby. If he wanted to reach it, the bandits would apprehend him first, and Philip's survival instincts were honed enough to tell him that he would not survive if he rubbed them the wrong way due to his youth, inexperience, and injury. 

There was one man who stood out from the rest though. He was notably muscular, and everything about him screamed that he was not one to be trifled with. His helmet had twin spikes that jutted out from either side of his head, and he crossed his arms as he looked down at Philip with something that resembled twisted curiosity. "Do tell me about this friend of yours. Knows how to fight, does he?" the man questioned. 

"H-He sure does!" Philip cried out, trying desperately to sound more confident than he felt. In truth, his heart was slamming against his ribcage with unforgiving brutality. "He's stronger than all of you put together! You won't stand a chance!" At those words, the brigands in the cave all burst into laughter, making remarks about how Olberic couldn't possibly be as strong as Philip claimed. Even the guards to the hideout were cackling, and Philip felt his anger begin to boil over. "It's not a joke! Stop laughing!"

"Ye hear that, mates? This hedge knight's the strongest blade in the realm!" one of the bandits shouted, his voice dripping sarcasm as he jabbed his elbow into another brigand's side teasingly. 

The brigand beside him started to cackle once again as if he had just heard the funniest joke known to man. "If he thinks he can best all of us, he's more madman than knight!" He wound up needing to throw his arm out onto his comrade's shoulder to keep himself steady as he gave into the full extent of his laughter. 

Another bandit shook his head with a jaded and twisted smile. "This ain't a fairy tale, boy. Real knights don't piddle away their days in the company of swineherds," he told Philip. His words were overwhelmingly rough, clearly meant to break the young boy's spirit without even a scrap of hesitation. 

"If he's a knight from the stories, a damsel in distress might serve as better bait. Reckon we should go back for the mum?" the first of the three bandits asked as he forced his friend to finally return to his full height with one lazy motion of his arm. Once again, the cave was filled with hearty laughter, and the sounds seemed to echo in a way that felt almost suffocating. 

"S-Stop it! You won't be laughing when Sir Berg is through with you!" Philip cried out, though it was clear as could be that he was trying to convince himself more than any of the brigands. They weren't going to be listening to him regardless of what he said, but Philip knew for sure that he had to steel his resolve if he was going to get through this in one piece. Not even the whimsy of childhood could defend him from the glint of rusted crimson steel in the torchlight of the brigands' den. 

"Sir Berg!" the second brigand, the one so notably prone to laughter, repeated. "Now there's a frightenin' name! Look, me arm's all a-tremblin'!" He held his hand up and made it shake dramatically as a way of mocking Philip, and the young boy had to resist the urge to shrink back from the gesture as his heart began to scream at him to find a way out. 

"Shut up, all of you!"

Before Philip could try anything, the leading man of the bandits cut him off with an angry roar, and he felt as if he was on the verge of jumping out of his skin for a few brief moments. The brigands all looked back to him, and one of the bandits squeaked out the man's name. "B-Boss...? Gaston...?"

The leader of the bandits, Gaston, glared at his crew without a shred of mercy. "Reckon the boy's got more courage than the lot of you--an' more wits, to boot," he declared. "So less yammerin' and more sharpenin' your stabbers!"

"B-But, Boss... Ain't no way the hedge knight will follow us here. Unless he's mad and all," came the weakened voice of the third brigand to speak previously. All of his prior confidence had been sucked out of his body in the blink of an eye, leaving him seemingly a husk of his former self. 

"Aye," the second bandit agreed with a nod. "It ain't like it's his own son or nothin'. Why should he care?" Unseen by the brigands in the cave, Philip felt himself begin to shrink, and he was glad that for a moment, eyes were somewhere besides him. 

Gaston shrugged nonchalantly before turning back to Philip, meaning the young boy's reprieve from attention was brief at best. "Why, indeed? Things could get interestin' though if he does show," he pointed out. "Always had a soft spot for men with more courage than sense." His eyes closed as if he had fallen into a trance of contemplative reminiscence. "Like the boy here."

Gaston took a step forward, and Philip forced himself to remain stationary. He couldn't run even if he wanted to. If the bandits didn't catch him, then the injury on his ankle would surely prevent him from easily escaping. Instead, he forced the bile back down his throat as a terrified shiver dashed up his spine. Gaston either didn't notice Philip's fear or didn't care, too caught up in himself to speak of it openly. 

Much to Philip's surprise, Gaston actually crouched down so that their eyes were equal in elevation. "What do you say, laddie? Care to join our little family? We're always lookin' for men with pluck," he said. His voice was so even that it was clear without a shadow of a doubt that he was serious, and somehow, that only made Philip feel even worse, and he hadn't even thought that to be possible. 

A sudden burst of energy and drive overcame Philip, and he retreated by a few paces despite the pain that pulsed through his leg in response. "I'll never join you! I'm going to be a brave warrior like Sir Berg!" he cried out, spitting the words in the direction of the brigands to truly drive the point home. 

For a moment, Gaston remained at Philip's eye level before a reverberating cackle burst free of his lips as he rose to his full height, turning to his comrades for affirmation. "You hear that, men? The boy says he's too good for banditry!" When Gaston took a step towards Philip, his eyes grew dark and twisted, like he was barely holding back some dreadful beast deep within. "Think you're the only one who feels that way, boy? Let me tell you somethin'..."

Before Gaston could continue, he cut himself off, falling into silence as he glanced around the cave. He remained silent even after one of his bandits called his title out, and Gaston's eyes narrowed as he heard a notable clash of steel coming from just behind Philip. 

First, it was a swing of a sword. From there, a burst of wind magic pierced the air, and the three brigands guarding the entrance of the area were sent crashing to the ground. Philip barely managed to scurry out of the way in time. As the guards fell into heaps of limps on the ground, Cyrus and Tressa came into view, both with their hands extended to show that they had been the ones responsible for the blow. 

Olberic dashed into view soon afterwards, and he came to rest in a defensive position in front of Philip. "Sir!" the young boy cried out, on the verge of lapsing into tears out of pure relief that Olberic had come for him. The knight didn't spare him a glance, but it was clear through the way that he glared at Gaston with the rage of a thousand suns that he was glad Philip had remained mostly unharmed during his time with the brigands. 

"Sorry I'm late, lad. Got held up along the way," Olberic told Philip, giving the boy a brief glance out of the corner of his vision. Cyrus and Tressa came to stand on either side of him as Ophilia held her staff above her head, and with a single flourishing motion, light passed over Philip's body and healed the injury on his leg, allowing him to put his full weight on his damaged ankle once again. The other travelers were refreshed immediately as well in preparation for the inevitable encounter. 

"'Ey, look. It's the mighty Sir Berg in the flesh," crowed one of the bandits in his heavy accent. He leaned forwards with a glare festering in his eyes, tone notably mocking. 

"He is mad!" another brigand cried out. "An' how'd he get in here anyway?! Where are the lookouts?!"

Olberic scoffed in response. "Bleeding in the dirt, last I saw," he replied bluntly. The brigands recoiled by a step in their surprise as Ophilia took her place alongside Tressa in defense of Philip. 

Gaston burst into laughter, his eyes on fire with something terrifying. He rushed forward and swung his sword down towards Olberic. The knight deflected the blow with his own blade, and Cyrus cast a quick wind spell that he had picked up from Tressa along the way to send Gaston sliding back by one or two paces. It wasn't much distance, but it was enough to offer them all the space that they needed to prepare for what was to come. 

"Sir!" Philip cried out, reaching one hand out in desperation to help Olberic. Ophilia sent her arm out in front of Philip to keep him from rushing forward into the line of fire, her gaze gentle when she turned in his direction. 

"Stay back!" Olberic instructed, not daring to take his eyes off Gaston for even a breath of a moment. Philip nodded and recoiled by a few steps, his gaze wide and transparent with notable fear. 

"D-Did he just--? He just parried the boss' blow!" one of the brigands cried out, shock interwoven across his features. He glanced to the others in the vicinity just to make sure that they had seen the same thing that he had. Sure enough, the other bandits were just as surprised as he was. 

"Hang me, but I ain't never seen anyone do that before..." another bandit whispered, his eyes wide as could be. He was reaching for his weapon, seeming to know that he was going to need it if he wanted to survive his encounter with Olberic and the rest of the company. 

"You're quick, alright... And strong," Gaston confessed, his tone tinged with hints of admiration. "Clearly no common hedge knight, are you?"

"Just as you are no common brigand," Olberic snapped back. He had been able to feel it in Gaston's blow when the two crossed blades. There was more to Gaston than met the eye, and he was much stronger than one would have expected him to be at a first glance. His eyes narrowed as he addressed the sword in question that was resting between Gaston's fingers. It had a golden hilt and shone silver even among the rusted weapons found throughout the cave. Something clicked in the back of Olberic's mind as he realized that he had seen it somewhere before, though the specific location of its origin remained unknown. "That blade..."

"Like it, do you?" Gaston questioned. "It just so happens to be a present from an old friend."

Everything came together at a frightening speed, and Olberic's eyes went wide with shock. His grasp on his sword relaxed for a brief handful of seconds. "Erhardt?!" he cried out. He remembered his old companion brandishing that same blade against him in the training yards of Hornburg a lifetime ago. They had fought to prove who was stronger, though their battles always came up a draw since they could read one another like books (right up until the moment where it truly mattered, that was). 

"Oho! You know the man, do you now?" Gaston inquired. The faces of the brigands all shifted to confusion as their combative stances melted away to pure shock. Ophilia, Cyrus, and Tressa offered sideways glances to one another out of their peripheral vision to see if any of the others knew what was happening, but the answer came up negative just as anticipated. 

"So it is his blade," Olberic muttered, his voice coming out bitter and harsh as if the syllables had been spat out rather than spoken. "As if I needed another reason to cut you down where you stand!" His sword was suddenly raised in Gaston's direction, and the tempest swirling in his eyes was terrifying in its ferocity. "How do you know Erhardt, rogue? Speak, or I'll slice your throat!"

Gaston's face distorted into a menacing snarl. "You've got a score to settle, is that it? I can see it in your eyes. They blazed like fire when you said his name. Look, I don't know what passed between you and Erhardt... But if you're looking to ask questions of me, my good sir... You'll have to earn the right!"

With those words, Gaston rushed forward, his eyes screaming with the promise of violence. His sword glittered in his grasp, and he slashed in Olberic's direction swiftly. The knight responded by fending off Gaston's blow with as much force as he could muster, sending Gaston back by a few paces. He struck once again a moment later with a slash of his sword and a subsequent stab from the spear that he had acquired on the way inside. Gaston's eyes narrowed at the spear before he got a grip on himself once again and concentrated on the battle at hand. It was clear that he knew where the lance had come from and was using that as yet another reason to target Olberic with the full force of his enmity. 

"Stay back here, Philip," Ophilia told the boy over her shoulder. He nodded, fear filling his youthful eyes. A moment later, Ophilia glanced back to the rest of the cave. "There are six brigands in here aside from their leader. We should take care of them while Berg defeats the commander."

"We wouldn't want to leave him overwhelmed, after all," Cyrus agreed. He took in a small breath and sent one hand forward with a swift flick of his wrist. A series of icicles began to mount on top of one another before slamming into the nearest group of brigands, sending them flying backwards. Ophilia followed up with a blast of light while Tressa unleashed an attack of bright green wind magic. The three shared one glance before rushing in once again. 

Olberic and Gaston continued to clash swords, sparks flying free of the blades when they made rough contact with one another. Olberic glared at his opponent with as much vitriol as he could muster. For the moment, he had something that he had to accomplish. It was somewhere between rescuing Philip and taking out his anger against Erhardt, but he couldn't care less for the details. The battle was calling him, and he would be foolish to not heed its words. 

Chapter Text

Tressa knocked the brigands back with yet another blast of wind as soon as they dared to get too close. She, Ophilia, and Cyrus all knew that their goal for the time being was just to fend off their foes rather than resort to killing them. It wouldn't be necessary given that Philip had been rescued and was now in relatively safe hands (as secure as he could be while still at the scene of a dangerous battle, that was). It hopefully wouldn't take too much for them to be able to defeat the smaller brigands so that they could move onto Gaston. It was clear as could be who was running the show within the den of the bandits given how powerful Gaston was, so it was up to them to move as quickly as possible so that they could assist Olberic sooner rather than later. 

"We'll have to rely on magic in order to defeat them," Cyrus said to the other two as soon as he was given the chance to do so. "I can sense that they aren't going to be weak to the staves, lances, and bows that we have at our disposal currently, so we'll have to turn our attention to magic instead." His skills of analysis were certainly coming in handy given the circumstances, and Ophilia and Tressa nodded their understanding before starting to cast their next set of spells. 

Cyrus flicked one wrist outwards, and fire immediately began to form and spread. The brigands were unable to escape in time, and they were knocked backwards by the sheer force of the blow. It was easy enough to keep the brigands away from the group since they were only using magical attacks that were most effective at range, and that meant that there was relatively little for the trio to worry about in terms of sustaining hits from their foes. 

Ophilia noticed how Cyrus' attack had done a significant amount of damage, and she braced herself before unleashing a fiery blow of her own in the direction of the bandits, immediately sending them into another spiral of uncontrollable screams as they struggled to get a grasp on themselves. Cyrus gave her a proud nod when he was given the chance to do so, a sign that he was glad that she had picked up on fire magic so quickly. It was certainly proving itself more useful than light in that situation, so it was a relief that she had figured out how to use it. 

Tressa closed her eyes before focusing all of her remaining energy on a blast of windy energy, and that was seemingly all that it took to knock the enemy brigands to the ground. This time, none of them dared to get back up again, too deprived of energy to even bother trying to fight back once more. Cyrus kept a wary eye on them for a while longer just to be safe, but it soon became clear that their fatigue was no show meant to lure the group into a false sense of security. They truly were down for the count, and after seeing the full extent of the power that the trio possessed, they had decided to back down and keep their lives with wounded pride. 

Nearby, Olberic's clash with Gaston was nothing short of the simple word 'fierce'. Every swing of Gaston's blade was met with a corresponding slash from Olberic, though neither of them was ever able to make contact with the other's body. Olberic kept his spear within his left hand, glad that he had learned how to use both weapons at once through his ambidextrous abilities of battle. He was able to get in a quick stab in Gaston's direction as soon as the other man was forced backwards by a particularly powerful slash from Olberic. Gaston let out a groan in response, and when he looked up to meet Olberic's gaze once again, his eyes were on fire with something passionate and terrifying. Even if it took the rest of his days, he was going to do what he could to exact his revenge. 

"I've never seen a fighter as strong as you before," Gaston remarked, his tone mocking despite the clear fact that he was at a disadvantage. He brought his sword up, but once again, Olberic blocked the strike and managed to get in another stab with his spear. "You've got much more power than everyone gave you credit for, hedge knight."

Olberic knew that his foe was trying to goad him into losing his focus, but he refused to yield no matter the circumstances. He held up his blade in preparation for another block, but he was cut off when Gaston revealed that the strike was a feint and went in a completely different direction. Olberic's eyes went wide as a final piece of preparation for the blow to come, but luckily for him, the sword never made contact with his skin. 

Instead, a piercing clap of thunder echoed throughout the small cave, and when Olberic looked for the source of the noise, he found that Cyrus had two fingers trained squarely in Gaston's direction. Smoke was trailing away from his grasp, a sign that he had been the mystery caster to save Olberic from that potentially fatal blow. Olberic gave him a brief nod of gratitude, and Cyrus returned the gesture before sinking into a combative stance in preparation for Gaston's next blow. 

Gaston wiped blood away from his mouth as soon as he was able to pull himself back together. "You fight well together. Is this your band, hedge knight?" he asked. His tone was dangerously conversational, as if he had forgotten for a few brief moments that they were meant to be battling against one another. 

Olberic fell silent for a moment, unsure as to how he was meant to respond to that. Luckily for him, he didn't need to say anything to Gaston as a reply. Tressa rushed in with her spear primed, and while Gaston was distracted with posing his question to Olberic, the young merchant was able to get in a quick blow to Gaston's torso. 

The brigand roared in pain, his eyes going wide with something between anger and distress. He turned towards Tressa, enraged that she had the audacity to disturb the duel between himself and Olberic, but he never had the chance to reciprocate her attack. Instead, Ophilia stepped in with a grounding breath and a quick ice spell that spread in his direction before he had the chance to blink. Gaston was stuck in place for a few crucial moments, giving Ophilia all the time that she needed to dash in his direction and slam Gaston over the head with her staff with as much force as she was able to muster with her lack of training in physical combat. 

The ice started to give way a moment later, a mark of Ophilia's inexperience with the spell, but that was more than enough for the rest of the group. Olberic closed his eyes and summoned as much strength as he could muster into his blade in preparation for the final blow. Cyrus threw icicles in Gaston's direction as Ophilia did much the same with lightning magic. Tressa used her spear to stab with all the power that her small body could bear. 

Gaston's eyes went wide as he registered all of the damage that he was sustaining, but that still wasn't able to save him from what came next on Olberic's part. All it took was a single slash from Olberic for everything to fall apart for Gaston, and he was left stumbling backwards while holding at his stomach in a vain attempt to lessen the pain and agony coursing mercilessly through his body. His axe drove itself into the ground in a last-ditch effort for Gaston to stabilize himself as he glanced up to the knight with unreadable eyes. 

"I... I yield," Gaston said after a moment of heavy silence. The rest of the brigands behind him were also crouched on the ground, understanding that their commander's words meant that there was no point to struggling anymore. They had been defeated, and the time had come for them to surrender if they wished to keep hold of the stability that came with life. 

Olberic allowed his sword to find its home in its sheath, and he dropped his spear back down to his side. The other three members of his party also removed their weapons from the ready position, and Tressa braced her fingers against the straps of her bag just as an extra sign that they weren't going to be doing anything violent against the surrendered bandits. Philip stood behind them, his eyes wide in awe as he watched the fighters carefully. 

"Now I will have my answers. How do you know Erhardt?" Olberic questioned, his eyes narrowing in Gaston's direction. Ophilia and Tressa glanced to one another in confusion, but recognition flew across Cyrus' features as he turned his attention to Olberic. His gaze turned to something inquisitive as he tried to determine the truth of what he was witnessing. 

"We fought alongside each other is all. Served together in a band of mercenaries," Gaston replied simply as he rose to his feet. He kept his weapon on the ground to show that he was done with combat the same way that his foes were. "He was already an old hand when I signed up. Helped me out, showed me the ropes."

Olberic nodded, his gaze dropping as he fell into silent contemplation. "A sellsword... And where is he now?" he questioned. There was something tempestuous in his eyes that Cyrus picked up on immediately, and his own expression shifted as he started to put the pieces together. 

"Damned if I know. When our group disbanded, we went our separate ways," Gaston said with a shrug. "After that, I drifted from one town to the next. Tried one trade, then another, but swingin' a blade's the only thing that's ever come natural to me. So here I am. Times are lean, and a man's got to make a living."

Olberic shook his head. "Anyone could use a sword arm like yours. You could protect the people instead of stealing from them," he proposed, his voice taking on an almost sorrowful quality as he watched Gaston. He had understood this much when he and Gaston clashed blades; there was always a place out there for Gaston that was greater than pillaging and killing. Gaston had the potential to be much more than he was in that instant, and yet, he had chosen the path of darkness and death rather than seeking the light that could be found in the world. 

"Aye, I could," Gaston replied simply. "But honest work takes more wits than the gods saw fit to bless me with. Never meant to do anyone no harm... But life doesn't always give us a choice in the matter, does it?"

Olberic's eyes hardened once again. Gaston had made his choice, and it was time for the aftermath of such a decision to come to life. "Choice or no, you must answer for your crimes," he told the other man. In other circumstances, he would have told Gaston of the true depth of the potential that he had been ignoring, but he knew that it was too late for that. Both he and Gaston had made their choices, and Olberic had seen enough of the world to understood what had to come next. 

"Aye, I know the score, but I've got my men to think about too," Gaston responded, glancing over his shoulder at the bandits that were slowly starting to rise to their feet. They all let out cries of surprise at Gaston's words, but he held up a hand to silence them. "Easy now, men. The hedge knight has the right of it. I've got more than enough blood on my hands. Live by the sword, and..." His voice trailed off before he shook his head. "Well, you know how it goes. A man has to own up to what he's done."

Ophilia appeared to be on the verge of saying something, her eyes full of sympathy and remorse, but Olberic beat her to it. "Enough blood has been spilled here today. Surrender, and I will see that you and your men are not harmed."

"You do me a kindness, hedge knight," Gaston smiled sadly. "An' so I'll do you one in return... I told you I didn't know where Erhardt is. An' I don't. But I know someone who might."

Olberic let out a gasp of strangled surprise, and once again, Ophilia and Tressa turned their attention to him, eyes inquiring for answers. They seemed to sense that this wasn't the time to ask though, so they remained silent. Cyrus, on the other hand, simply glanced back to Gaston with Olberic in his peripheral vision, satisfied with his silent deductions. 

"Gustav's his name," Gaston continued. "Sir Gustav. Some call him the Black Knight or other such fussed-up nonsense. Erhardt taught us both how to use the sword back in the mercenary band. You should find him in Victors Hollow."

Olberic processed the information as quickly as he could. Victors Hollow was the largest town in the Woodlands, and it could be found on the opposite side of Orsterra. He had never been previously, never having had a reason to travel there, but he certainly saw purpose in the concept now. "And this man will tell me where Erhardt is?" he questioned, almost not believing what he was hearing. 

"He might. Then again, he might not," Gaston shrugged. "Still, if you want to find him that much, I reckon it's worth tryin'." Olberic stared at him for a long moment before Gaston continued to speak, growing almost unsettling stoic. "I saw your eyes, hedge knight. They were dead, like a fish. But the moment you saw my blade, they came to life."

"Dead?" Olberic echoed, punctuating the word with such shock that it made Philip jump from his place behind the quartet of travelers. "Have I truly been...?"

Gaston let out an empty, half-hearted attempt at a chuckle. "But what does a common thief know of men's souls?" he questioned though he was not expecting an answer in the slightest.

The echoing of footsteps suddenly interrupted the conversation, and the sound came so randomly that Tressa nearly jumped enough to lose her balance. Ophilia gave her a steadying glance to ensure that she was alright, and Tressa nodded in response before glancing over her shoulder. The culprits behind the noise were a few members of the guard from Cobbleston. Even though they were unfamiliar to Cyrus, Ophilia, and Tressa, it was easy to guess that they were far from being trained soldiers thanks to the unprofessional attire they wore. When combined with the fact that they were wearing the colors of most Cobbleston attire, it was easy enough to come to the conclusion. 

"Berg! Thank the gods you're safe! The villagers are safe as well, sir!" the first of the two patrolmen said. His expression was overcome with brief confusion at the sight of Ophilia, Cyrus, and Tressa, a strange ensemble to be passing through Cobbleston and fighting alongside the distant and detached Olberic, but he corrected his gaze a few moments later to keep from attracting unnecessary attention. 

The second of the guards was notably undeterred by the presence of the new arrivals. "Round up the thieves and lock them in the village gaol!" he declared to his partner, earning a nod in return. 

Gaston's gaze fell to the ground as something tempestuous overcame his eyes. "Berg... I could swear I've heard that..." His voice trailed off as he attempted to figure out the full scape of the picture, and a moment later, he cried out in shock. "Gods be good! Eisenberg! Should have known it the way your eyes lit up at the mention of Erhardt's name... Aye, you're no hedge knight. You're Sir Olberic Eisenberg, the Unbending Blade of Hornburg."

The brigands all cried out in shock at the words, and Tressa's eyes went wide as she yelped in surprise. Ophilia stared at Olberic in disbelief, trying to evaluate if the words were true or not. Cyrus' suspicions regarding Olberic were finally confirmed with Gaston's words, and he allowed his shoulders to lose their tension as he glanced to the older man standing nearby. Philip gasped as well, his face pale as he stared up at the idol that he admired so much. 

"The Unbending Blade...?" the first of the patrols echoed. It took a moment for the recognition to flit across his features, but when it did, his jaw dropped in complete surprise. 

"They said he was slain when Hornburg fell..." one of the brigands muttered, still in clear shock as to the revelation. 

Another brigand shook his head. "I'd heard he lived, but I scarce believed it... Until today," he declared. 

"Is it true, sir?" Philip asked, his voice small and fragile in comparison to everything else bouncing around the cave. "Are you... A real knight?" It was clear that the mention of Hornburg was forcing Philip to draw comparisons once more between the subject of his infatuation and the father that he no longer had, and his eyes were overcome with strange unfamiliarity as he sought answers in Olberic's gaze. 

"Long ago, lad," Olberic said simply, his voice filled with sorrow that was poorly masked behind a sense of purpose in the aftermath of the battle. "Long ago." Tressa squeaked at the confirmation, and Ophilia's eyes began to shift into analysis as she tried to comprehend the rumors that she had heard and how they could reconcile with the truth of Olberic's survival. Everyone had heard of the two most powerful soldiers of Hornburg, and Ophilia was kicking herself for not putting the pieces together sooner. The names Berg and Erhardt should have made the fact of the matter all too clear. 

Olberic approached Philip regardless of all the eyes that were locked squarely on him. "Let's be on our way. We've kept your mother waiting long enough," he went on. His words were so casual in comparison to the severity of the situation, and it offered a strange tonal clash that the rest of the people in the cave struggled to give a definition to. Philip nodded in response, and the guards moved forward to apprehend the brigands, bringing an end to the events of the day at long last. 

~~~~~

A few hours passed in the aftermath of the fight, and Olberic found himself standing in front of the mirror of his home. The mention of his past had spurred him into doing something strange. His brown attire that he had worn to defend Cobbleston was swapped out for the regal blue that he had worn when defending Hornburg. Erhardt's name had given him new purpose, and he felt as if it was only natural that he donned the same colors that he had worn the same day that he battled with his other half eight years prior. Philip had been returned home safely, and the bandits were rounded up. Ophilia, Cyrus, and Tressa had volunteered to help send the brigands to the gaol, and Olberic had taken his leave of the situation as soon as the proper moment arose. 

At long last, Olberic had his next destination: Victors Hollow. Eight long years in Cobbleston were giving way to something new, and if all went well, he would be able to find this Gustav character and then Erhardt. He still did not understand why he swung his blade, but he was determined to find the answers that he sought. His purpose had eluded him for nearly a decade, but he was closer than ever to grasping it once more, and he was going to chase it with everything that he had.

When Olberic walked out a few moments later, he was met with a familiar trio of faces. Ophilia was the first to speak, a gentle smile on her face. They hadn't said much on the matter of Olberic's true identity, too caught up in the chaos of the moment to be given the chance, but it seemed to be silently understood that such a thing was unnecessary. "We had a feeling that you would be leaving," Ophilia said simply. "We're going on a journey of our own, and... If you would like to join us, we would be happy to have you."

Olberic stared at the three in shock. He hadn't expected this of all outcomes to take place. Ophilia, Cyrus, and Tressa had initially become his allies out of a temporary convenience and wish for justice. They sought to help the innocent boy that had been captured by the brigands, and Olberic understood that having assistance would make the coming battle easier on all sides. He had clearly made enough of an impact for them to desire something more, and that was the last thing that he could have anticipated. 

Still, he would have been lying if he said that he was against the idea of traveling with them. There was something about the three that felt oddly appealing to Olberic. Perhaps it was somewhere between Ophilia's warm smile, Cyrus' careful sense of analysis, and Tressa's bright and optimistic attitude. Olberic had become strong with reading people as soon as he started training to become a knight. After all, his skills of perception could be the dividing line between what kept him from death at any given moment during battle, and he had come to understand how crucial his instincts were to finding security. 

Olberic had lost his home ages ago in Hornburg. Cobbleston had become a temporary replacement for what he would never again possess, but something about this strange trio of travelers was different to him. It was difficult for him to describe since he had never been a wordsmith, but he just knew that this was something that had been meant to be from the very beginning. He knew that this was right, and he was confident that this was the right decision to make. He was taking a chance and stepping out of his comfort zone, but maybe that was just what he needed after living in fear for so many years of the power that he possessed inside and out. 

Olberic nodded simply in the direction of the other travelers, unable to forge the words necessary to speak any of the thoughts that were passing casually yet with purpose through his mind. "Alright," he agreed, uncertain as to if saying anything else would dampen the impact of the simple word. He would have time to sort through his emotions later, but for the time being, he would travel alongside this peculiar trio of characters to Victors Hollow with hopes of seeking the one man who would be able to provide him the answers that he had come to seek over the course of the past eight years of lonely misery without a reason to draw breath. 

The rest of the townsfolk had seemingly all come to understand that Olberic was leaving, and his closest companions were gathered near the entrance to Cobbleston when he arrived with the rest of his company. Among them were the village headman, the main members of the Cobbleston guard, and Philip's mother, though her son was notably absent. 

"So you truly mean to leave us," the headman said simply, his eyes filled with time-worn sorrow as he observed Olberic's bag and the sheen to his gaze as he regarded the exit of the town. 

"You have shown me nothing but kindness," Olberic told him. "I am forever in your debt."

The headman shook his head. "It is we who owe you, friend," he responded. "Were the choice mine to make, you would stay with us forever. But it is your life to live."

"We won't ever forget all you've done for us, sir," the captain of the watch declared. His wounds from the previous battle had been bandaged, and he wore a smile despite the damage that he had sustained previously. 

"The next time any dirty brigands come after us, we'll give 'em a good kicking in your name!" one of the guards announced next, a wide and determined grin plastered across his features firmly. 

"We're no knights, sir, but you've taught us well. We can protect our home at the very least," the second guard present agreed. 

Olberic nodded. "I'm glad to hear it." Instinctively, his gaze shifted over to Philip's mother in curiosity. If there was one person that he wanted to bid farewell to, it was Philip, and yet, the young boy was notably absent. Olberic felt a knot form in his stomach regardless of how much he tried to shove it aside. 

"I'm sorry, sir," Philip's mother told Olberic with apologetic eyes as soon as she noticed that he was staring at her expectantly. "Philip... He couldn't come. Didn't want you to see him crying, most likely."

Olberic shook his head, trying to pretend that he didn't feel sorrow consolidating in his core. "I understand. Tell the boy I am counting on him to grow strong and to look after his dear mother."

The woman nodded in response, a sad smile on her face. "Thank you, sir. I will." There were tears in her eyes despite her attempts to swallow them back, and Olberic looked away out of silent respect for her. 

"When you've done whatever it is you must do, pray come back and visit us," the headman said next. "No matter how far your journey takes you, you'll always have a home here."

"Thank you," Olberic responded. He glanced in the direction of his companions, earning a nod from Ophilia and a gentle smile from Cyrus. The time had come for them to depart, and he knew it. "And with that, I had best--"

Before the sentence could be completed, the careful echo of footsteps reached Olberic's ears. He turned to see Philip running towards him, wooden blade in hand. He attempted to get in a quick swipe with his weapon towards Olberic, but the knight stepped out of the way at the last moment, leaving him only clipped on the arm rather than suffering worse damage. Everyone in the area gasped in shock, leaving the air tense and heavy. "Philip!" came the cry of the young boy's mother, surprise written clearly across her features. 

Olberic couldn't help but smile despite the bruise that he knew was forming on his lower arm. "It's alright. That was a good blow, lad! You're getting strong," he said, voice overflowing with pride. Philip truly was improving, and it was almost impossible to believe that the boy that Olberic had met so many years prior was developing into such an impressive young man already. His strength was incredible despite his young age, and Olberic knew that by the time he returned, Philip would have found a new sense of pride and power in himself. He could simply sense it even if the future yet eluded his grasp. 

"I'm going to keep training while you're way," Philip told him, eyes alight with determination and passion. "Then... When you come back...! I'll be even stronger! And then... Then... Maybe I could...!"

After a moment of poignant silence, Olberic nodded. "Aye, lad," he agreed. No words needed to be spoken to define Philip's emotions. Olberic understood, and he knew that everyone else in the area did as well. "I'll get stronger too, and we'll see each other again. You have my word."

Philip surged forward, dropping his blade and throwing his arms around Olberic. After a few seconds of being stunned statuesque, Olberic returned the embrace. "You... You had better not forget! A knight... A knight always keeps his word!" Philip exclaimed. 

"Of course, lad," Olberic murmured in response. He might not have known his purpose in life, but he knew that a moment like this was something to live for. "Of course."

~~~~~

As the travelers left behind Cobbleston, Ophilia glanced up at Olberic. "Are you sure that you want to do this?" she asked of him. She left the words about Olberic's care for Philip unspoken, knowing that he understood them even in the silence. 

"Yes," Olberic replied simply. He was never going to be able to find the answers that he sought if he remained living in fear for the rest of his life, and this was the only way for him to witness what he was truly meant to be. Leaving behind Cobbleston was the first step, and he had to take it after living in hesitation and intermission for eight years. 

"We should arrive at Sunshade before nightfall," Cyrus declared. "If all goes well, we will be able to slip in and out of the town without much trouble. From there, it won't be long before we reach Saintsbridge. Continuing on our current path will bring us to our destination soon enough."

"From there... Who knows?" Tressa questioned, a hearty laugh breaking free of her lips. "I'm sure that we'll figure it out soon enough. Quarrycrest, Victors Hollow, or any other city, village, or town out there... They aren't going to know what hit them when we get there!" She punched her fist into the air, sending ripples of laughter throughout the other members of the party soon afterwards. 

The silence that followed was warm, and it filled Olberic's chest in a way that he didn't expect. Much about his life had come to be a mystery when his purpose disappeared, but he knew that this was something that he could enjoy. Philip had been something to live for even if he noticed it a bit too late, but maybe this was as well. Something deep in his core told him that this was the best decision he could have made, and something even further inside whispered that he had found home. 

Chapter Text

Even when the blade is held at your heart, faith shall be your shield. 

Primrose Azelhart had heard those words more times than she could hope to count, and yet, they did little to bring her comfort or gratitude as she sat behind a countertop within her father's office of Noblecourt within the estate of her noble family. Her hands were gripping at the wood of a small shelf beneath the surface of the counter, and the digging of the corners into her palms were all that kept her grounded as she looked on at what would come to be the scene that thrived in all of her darkest nightmares and woke her from slumber each night for the rest of her life. 

There were four men standing before her, three of them shrouded in complete shadow. They wore all black clothing and stood in a triangle formation around the final man of the space. It was clear that the last of the figures was trapped with no way of escaping, and his expression remained painfully neutral as he watched his assailants with as much passive detachment as he could manage. Such was the way of Geoffrey Azelhart, the father that Primrose had come to care for so deeply. He was the strongest man that she knew, and yet, not even all the strength in the world could bring the most doomed of souls the salvation that they sought. 

The three men that had her father cornered each wore markings on the visible parts of their bodies. One was coated in black save for his right arm, and the symbol of a crow wound around his limb. Another man was in much the same position, but his marking of the crow was on his left arm rather than his right. The leader of the trio, the one wearing a mask bearing resemblance to the bird they fashioned themselves after, had the symbol winding around his neck, clear as could be to Primrose's horrified and youthful eyes. 

"Funny how it works, isn't it?" the man with the left arm tattoo questioned. "Everything that happens in this world falls into two neat little categories. Things one's better off knowing and things one's better off... Not. Geoffrey Azelhart, I'm afraid you've been poking your nose into the latter."

Primrose's father looked up to the men, his eyes stoic in the face of what he knew was bound to be his downfall. "I have only done what my convictions bade me do. I have no regrets," he declared. His voice was soft and possessed a secret dimension of sentimentality that only meant anything to his hidden daughter. He was unaware of her presence in the first place, and yet, she was confident that those few words were meant for her alone. 

"I thought you might say something like that," the man with the right crow snorted. "You're making this delightfully easy." His voice was a slow drawl, as if he had all the time in the world and he knew it. 

Primrose could see the man with the neck tattoo move forwards in the moments that followed. Her mind screamed for her father, but she forced herself to remain silent. She was well-versed in the ways of darkness, hearing stern teachings from her father about what to do in the case of an emergency, and she knew that her silence was the only thing that was keeping her life from being taken as well. 

Still, not even all the training in the world could stop the way that Primrose's heart shattered when the man with the neck tattoo stepped towards her father and slashed his blade. Geoffrey crumpled to the ground, not even having the chance to cry out in pain before his life flowed away from his gasp. Primrose's eyes were willing up with tears, but she forced herself to remain silent. Her shoulders trembled with impending sobs, but she refused to release them and cast aside the legacy of the man that no others would ever come to understand. 

"Make sure he's dead," the right crow instructed of his comrades. "And let's leave this place before we're seen." His voice had taken on an extra dimension of hardness, and that somehow only made Primrose feel worse, like her heart was being shredded even after being torn in half by the tragedy of her father's untimely demise. 

The left crow crouched down beside Geoffrey's body, uncaring as to the blood that was seeping into the carpet below. He lacked care as he searched for a pulse or any signs of breath. When he found neither, he returned to his full height, shaking the blood free of his fingertips haphazardly. "It's done."

In the moments that followed, the men left the room, and Primrose hid herself behind the countertop as much as she could stand. Luckily for her, she was not seen, as the men were too satisfied with their victory to bother checking for any potential witnesses. For a long time, she remained there, too afraid to move or do anything that would indicate signs of her prolonged survival. Only a few simple words remained etched upon her mind. 

She would never forget. 

~~~~~

Ten long years had passed since that day, and Primrose was no longer the naive girl that she once had been. 

Sun-kissed arms were pressed against a brown bench within an ornate room far from the Noblecourt home that she had known throughout her youth. The lighting was eerie and tinted orange, far from the radiant sunshine that Primrose had come to enjoy so much as a childhood. She was distantly aware of chattering nearby, but it mattered little to her. She was too busy shaking off the final traces of sleep as she rose to her full height once again. 

Primrose's noble dresses had been swapped out for something far less formal. A red short top adorned her chest, and a lengthy skirt with slits down either side trailed down the lower half of her body. Jewelry hung everywhere that it could without hindering her movement, and sandals covered her feet with a delicate sense of perfection that only Primrose could have a handle on. Her grace was unmatched even though she was filled with tempestuous thoughts about what could have been if not for the foul scavengers that had stolen everything from her. 

"Always the same dream..." Primrose murmured to herself as she brushed a few stray threads of brown hair away from her face. She had seen the events of her father's murder every night in her dreams, and even though it had been ten years, the immediate sting still came to her all the same with intense ferocity that tried to eat her alive. Her brown eyes, once vibrant and excited with all of the potential that the future offered, had grown dull and lifeless since the death of her father. He had been everything to her, and she had been everything to him. There was little left for her that she knew and understood of her past life. 

But there was the present in all of its unfortunate glory, and Primrose found herself facing it with unfortunate brutality as she tried to ground herself in reality. She was no longer in Noblecourt or House Azelhart. Her new location was Sunshade, a town far south of the childhood home that she could only visit in memories these days. She was not a noble either, instead having been turned into a dancer by cruel twists of circumstance and tragedy. The room was small with hardwood floors and a single rug as if that offered any comfort against the crowded space that housed five performers and everything that they owned in limited quantities as a direct result of limited privileges. 

Three girls, all dancers, chatted nearby. Amice, Gisella, and Cateline were their names, and as soon as they noticed that Primrose had awoken and spoken, they perked up with twisted frowns on their frowns. Amice rolled her eyes in Primrose's direction, a dramatic action that Primrose had grown tragically used to over the years. "I wish I had your confidence, Primrose. I couldn't imagine nodding off minutes before my cue," Amice drawled. Her brown hair was pulled into a low ponytail, and when she turned away, she made sure to flick her tresses dismissively at Primrose.

Gisella sighed and shook her head as she ran her fingers through her own hair. "How nice it must be to be the master's favorite!" she cried out. Even though she wasn't looking at Primrose, the enmity directed in the other girl's direction was clear as could be. Primrose responded with silence, smoothing out the folds of her dress before looking up at Gisella with an even, passive expression, unwilling to give her unfortunate companion the dignity of seeing her squirm. Gisella responded with a scoff. "Fine, go on and keep your airs. Act like you're better than the rest of us. 

"It doesn't change the fact that you're just another dancer in the sands, Primrose," Amice said next, picking right up where Gisella had left off. "Nothing but a kept woman, here to flatter the dignity of men who pay for the privilege."

Primrose made eye contact with Amice, still unwilling to show even an ounce of pain in the direction of the trio of girls. She had grown used to their antagonistic behavior over the years. None of the dancers in Sunshade under the employment of their 'master' liked her much, though to Primrose, it didn't matter. This was all about means to an end when push came to shove. "I suppose you're right," Primrose replied simply, keeping her deep brown gaze as level as she could manage. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Primrose saw the last girl in the room, Yusufa, wince and curl over herself. Yusufa was the only dancer within Sunshade who didn't detest Primrose openly. In fact, Primrose didn't even know if Yusufa was capable of hating anyone, too full of hidden love and care for the world between her empathetic eyes and kind gestures. Her black hair was cut close to her face and matched well with her blue ensemble, but she used both of them as a shield and a distraction to keep from having to look up at Amice, Gisella, and Cateline, knowing the consequences that would await her if she crossed the dancers. 

Cateline had strolled over to the window while Primrose was distracted, and the curtains were pulled away and held between her fingers. She suddenly let out a gasp and forced herself away from the window before turning her attention to her skirt, smoothing out every crease or fold that she saw. "Sh! Enough chatter! Master Helgenish is coming!" Cateline cried out. 

Yusufa and Primrose both fell into place alongside their companions as the door opened, and the most thoroughly unpleasant man that Primrose had ever met thundered into the room. A snarl was curled across the lips of Helgenish, the man who Primrose had come to know as her master and owner. She detested the man with everything that she had, but she refused to show it. After all, keeping such a fact secret was crucial to her survival in Sunshade. 

Helgenish was a large man with gray hairs that spread across the sides of his balding head. He was practically dripping with expensive fabrics and jewelry, and he slammed the door behind himself as he looked over the girls. Everything about him was dangerous, and Primrose immediately found herself standing to attention. If she could mitigate the harm that Helgenish was capable of perpetuating, then she would consider that evening a success. 

"Do I keep you women to titter here in the shadows?! My customers are waiting for their entertainment!" Helgenish roared as he looked over the five girls. Yusufa flinched, and Primrose found it lucky that Helgenish didn't respond to such a physical response with an open reaction of his own. "The opening act should be on that stage already! Now get out there and earn your keep!"

Amice, Gisella, and Cateline dropped their previous anger towards Primrose immediately, nodding to Helgenish as they walked towards the door. Yusufa trailed after them, trying to hide her nerves. Primrose remained for a moment longer as she reached down to adjust the strap of her sandal. The shoe was starting to feel the sting of frequent performances, and she knew that it was going to take some work to ensure that nothing went wrong during the show. She didn't have the time to change without earning Helgenish's rage, so she decided to craft together a solution as swiftly as possible without drawing attention to herself. 

Helgenish waited until Yusufa was gone before huffing and shaking his head. "What a bunch of useless strays..." he muttered. Primrose finished adjusting her sandal and was about to walk towards the door when Helgenish suddenly closed the distance between them. "But not you, Primrose... You are the only one I can rely on." His hand came to rest on her upper arm, and Primrose hated how friendly his grasp was against her skin. She had grown accustomed to it during her time in Helgenish's employ, but that never stopped the way that her every instinct told her to run the instant that he grew too close. 

Out of habit, Primrose's fingers drifted towards her upper thigh. Beneath her skirt, she kept a dagger just out of sight, constantly waiting for the moment when she could finally carve out Helgenish's heart and take her leave of the hell that she had come to know as Sunshade. The knife had belonged to her father, and it was one of the last things that she had left of him before everything in her life fell apart and she was forced to depart from Noblecourt a decade prior as a frail, terrified thirteen-year-old girl, unready and uncertain when it came to facing the world. 

But Primrose refused to allow her reservations with Helgenish to show. Instead, she simply allowed a smile to press itself onto her face. It was falsified the same way that every other grin of hers was when Helgenish was present. She had practiced this smile more times than she could count as a way of luring Helgenish under her spell and keeping herself safe at the same time. "You flatter me... Master." 

"Oh, hardly. Why, this tavern's custom has increased tenfold since you stepped on our stage!" Helgenish exclaimed, his fingers suddenly growing even lighter and more terrifying against Primrose's shoulder. "But do not go forgetting yourself. It was I who groomed you for this role." Without warning, his grip went tight, and Primrose was glad that he was no longer touching bare skin but instead the barest edges of her sleeve. She didn't want anyone to ask questions about where the inevitable bruises came from. It was a difficult conversation that she had navigated too many times to count, and if she could avoid it for the night, then she would mark that down as yet another victory in a long line of failures and disgraces that had mottled her time in Sunshade. 

Primrose allowed her practiced smile, perfectly learned over her years in Sunshade, to grace her lips once more. "And I will be forever grateful for that, Master," she told him, her voice as sweet as honey and blood. 

"You were an ignorant girl when I picked you up. Completely useless. I've taught you everything you know," Helgenish went on, his voice still slimy and sharpened. Primrose internally thought about how damn little Helgenish had done for all of his high words, only ever serving to make her life miserable because of his own twisted desires. 

This thought was a traitor in the end though, and Primrose let the mask slip for a fraction of a moment. Helgenish's hand came up to clap against her cheek a moment later, and Primrose's fingers graced her skin out of shock. "What happened to that sweet little smile?" Helgenish snarled, his voice like nails scraping on the sides of Primrose's skulls. "Who puts a roof over your head and food on your plate? Who bought the jewels that adorn that pretty little neck?" His all too friendly fingers drifted to Primrose's collarbones before starting to drift upwards, too gentle to leave bruises behind but enough to make her skin crawl regardless. "Who made you the most sought-after dancer in this dusty old town? It was me--all me. You owe me, kitten. And I'll see that debt repaid."

Primrose smiled in response, ignoring the pain pulsing in her cheek and the alarm in her blood that screamed at her to run away from this hellhole of a town and never look back. "Yes, Master..."

Helgenish smiled, satisfied with her answer. "Good then. Purr sweetly and I may give you a treat." His fingers came up to cup at Primrose's chin, and somehow, that was even worse than the previous threat of strangulation that had come with the prior gesture. "Don't dally when you're done with your show. I will be waiting in my chamber. I'll have you purr for me some more."

Primrose was all too relieved when the door opened, and a stagehand appeared in the entryway of the room. Helgenish pulled himself away after giving one last fleeting glance in Primrose's direction. "Primrose! It's your cue," the stagehand said. He was apathetic to her plight, fully aware of Helgenish's behavior but unable to do anything about it. That was the way that Sunshade worked; everyone was simply a bug under Helgenish's heel whether they noticed it or not. Kitten or client, they were all the same, simply pawns on a chessboard to be manipulated at his every whim, and each passing day left Primrose even more insistent on pulling her dagger from its sheath and plunging it into the empty hole where Helgenish's heart was supposed to be. 

"I'm coming," Primrose assured the stagehand, and that was enough for him to leave, not wanting to be caught in the middle of her encounter with Helgenish. She couldn't blame him, but part of her still desired some form of intervention regardless. 

"Put your face back on now, kitten," Helgenish commented, clearly aware of Primrose's discomfort no matter how hard she tried to hide it. Primrose cursed her damn dream for leaving her off balance and unable to right herself again. Helgenish caught onto the weaknesses of others easily, and he was using it to make her miserable once again. 

"Yes, Master," Primrose said in her regular cadence, speaking the words as if they didn't feel like poison seeping down her throat. She nodded in his direction, pretending that she didn't feel the phantom sensation of his fingers on her neck, as she left the room behind. 

While on her way to the tavern, one of the most imposing structures in town, Primrose gave a sideways glare in the direction of Helgenish's mansion. He had paid for it with all of the wages that he stole from his workers, dancer or barkeep, and it was one of the largest and most impressive buildings that Primrose had ever set eyes on. The manor reeked of pain for Primrose, as every time that she was forced to enter at Helgenish's whims, she left with the taste of hatred in her mouth and an urge for bloodlust in her fingertips. She wasn't looking forward to being with Helgenish that night, but she wasn't being given much of an option in the matter. Sunshade was what would bring her closer to the men with the crow tattoos, and if she wanted to exact her revenge, this was her only choice. 

That was what had brought her to Sunshade in the first place. After Noblecourt fell to ruin and House Azelhart shattered into a shell of its former self, the men of the crow disappeared. Primrose yearned for revenge, seeking to kill those who had done the same crime against her father, and Sunshade was her first clue. The town was apparently a place frequented by one of the men, and she had been there since the age of sixteen to try and figure out how to track him down. Seven long years had passed since the day that Primrose was picked up by Helgenish, but she had never been lucky enough to see the man with the crow tattoo. She knew that he was still out there though, and she was going to find him one way or another. 

Primrose's thoughts were brought to a close as soon as she arrived in the tavern, and the general cacophony of the room overwhelmed her by snapping her out of her trance. She had to stay focused if she wanted to avoid further catastrophe. Amice, Gisella, Cateline, and Yusufa were already scattered about the tavern, acting as waitresses since they weren't on the stage. They laughed in that blatantly false way that all of the dancers of Sunshade did, ignoring the flirtations of patrons while thriving on their sickening words as well. Primrose shoved them out of her mind to the best of her ability and walked to the side of the grand stage lined with red curtains, ready to perform with everything that she had for the sake of living to see another day in this bitter, agonizing excuse of a town. 

"Kept us waiting long enough, Primrose," the stagehand snorted once she arrived. He had been shrouded in shadow until Primrose was close enough to speak to him. He was clearly intent on ignoring the encounter that he had witnessed between her and Helgenish, something that it seemed everyone in Sunshade did out of a matter of survival and convenience. 

"My apologies. I was... Fixing my shoe," Primrose said even though everyone in the world knew that it was a lie. She wished that fixing her sandal was the only thing that had held her up along the way. 

The stagehand snorted, something tragic overcoming his brown eyes. "It better have been worth it. You're our best chance at getting to eat tonight," he muttered. Primrose knew this much was true; Helgenish was not above starving his workers to feed his own coffers, and she had endured many a hungry night because of his disgusting greed. Everyone was counting on her to put on a show and call in enough leaves to satisfy Helgenish's desire while still feeding them for the night. Once again, she was reminded of how she could not afford to be distracted in the least despite her offbeat start to the evening. 

"The customers have been waiting," the stagehand went on, pretending that he hadn't spoken of such grim reality a few moments prior. He pulled open the curtain that would let Primrose move onto the stage and gestured for her to get a move on. 

Primrose just smiled to herself, giving the crowd one last glance before she took to the stage. "Let the show begin," she murmured under her breath, allowing herself to slip into the facade once again of swaying hips and dangerously perfect smiles. 

As Primrose found her place at the front central part of the stage, the crowd's members began to whistle and holler in her direction. The piano player, yet another underpaid worker under Helgenish, began to brush his fingers along the keys. Primrose gave in to the music and allowed it to control her body. She detached completely from reality as she moved on her own, simply acting out of instinct rather than any legitimate rhyme or reason. She had performed these routines a thousand times, and each new show brought with it the same old thought process. 

This was all for her father. Primrose's life in Sunshade was nothing short of hell, and she was fully aware of such a fact. However, she was doing this for the sake of Geoffrey Azelhart and the proud fallen house that they had once shared a lifetime ago. She had tracked the first of the three crows to a patron of the very tavern that she had come to work in, and while it was just the barest glimmer of hope, she was willing to embrace it. That was the only hint that she had, so she had to grasp it with every bit of force that she possessed. 

Until Primrose was able to find the truth behind the death of her father, she would continue to dance in the name of her father, the man who had taught her to perform so many years ago. She used the skill that he had passed down as a means to survive, almost as if she was still paying tribute to him each time that she took to the stage. Sunshade was simply a means to an end, and one day, she would be able to leave behind this pathetic excuse for a town and its disgusting master to pursue her greater quest of revenge in the name of what she had lost and would never have again. 

When Primrose finished the dance, it was of pure instinct without any input from her mind. Mentally, she was miles upon miles away within the borders of Noblecourt, rewinded years into the past to explore the depth of her memories. Sunshade was nothing more than a hollow shell for her to occupy as long as her recollections remained proud and true. 

The crowd responded the same way that it always did. Patrons both new and old whistled their praise for Primrose. She pretended that the less kind of the comments didn't make her skin crawl, ignoring the way that a few of the tavern's customers requested a private show the same way that Helgenish did all too often. She listened while wishing that she could fill her ears with cotton and truly abandon Sunshade to return to the home that she loved so dearly even more than a decade later. 

But Primrose voiced none of this. Instead, she simply smiled as she swept her skirts outwards in a deep curtsey. "You are all too kind. And too handsome, I might add," she declared, well-versed in the nature of flattery after her years of enduring Helgenish's harm. She offered one final wave before departing from the stage, allowing the cheers to become little more than static that thrived in the back of her mind without any attention being offered in its direction. 

"Not bad, Primrose. Not bad," the stagehand smiled as Primrose returned to the backstage area in full. The smile on his face made it clear that he was impressed for his performer despite his understated words. 

"Thank you," Primrose said simply. She took a few steps towards the stairs, but she was cut off by her shoe's strap pushing uncomfortably against her foot. She looked down and saw that her makeshift recovery job had not been enough to fully repair the shoe to its former glory. Primrose assumed that this had happened during her performance, but because of how caught up she was in her own head, she didn't even notice until she stepped free of the stage. 

"Look at your sandals. It seems you've gone and broken a strap," the stagehand muttered under his breath. "Go back to the dormitory and fetch yourself another pair." He gave her one last wave before turning his attention to Cateline, who was next in the lineup for the night. He gestured her over, and Cateline finished her conversation with the nearest pair of uncomfortably shifty customers before walking in his direction. 

Primrose looked down at her shoe one final time, allowing an expression of slight dejection to appear on her face. She shook it off a moment later, knowing that she couldn't afford to dally for much longer. The show had to go on, and she wasn't just talking about her performance within the tavern for that night. The entirety of her life had become little more than a show that she put on for a mix of her own satisfaction and to appease those around her, but she held no open complaints with such a fact. After all, this was simply a matter of survival. 

The fall of House Azelhart had hit her hard the same way that it harmed everyone associated with the ruling family of Noblecourt. She had wound up on Helgenish's doorstep solely to try and fulfill her mission, driven to the border of something twisted in an attempt to find her purpose in the theoretical deaths of the crows. Her father was the one person who she had come to rely on without any doubts throughout her childhood, and she knew that allowing his murderers to roam free was the last thing that she would stand by and see happen. Sunshade was simply a step to her next destination, and one day, she would be able to abandon this sorry excuse of a town to fulfill her greater mission. Nothing was going to get in her way, not the other dancers, not Helgenish, and sure as hell not a damn sandal. 

With that thought in mind, Primrose flashed a smile to the customers who looked in her direction before making for the door of the tavern. She was immediately hit with the uncomfortable warmth of Sunlands winds, and part of her wished that she could be back in Noblecourt's cooler weather that had always been just perfect to her despite her need to stay grounded in reality. Primrose granted her memories one final act of dignity for the night as she released a light sigh. After that, it was back to putting one foot in front of the other to continue the dance that she called life. One day, the next act would begin, but until then, she would perform without even a beat of hesitation. 

Chapter Text

Even during the hours of daylight, Sunshade was scarcely a place that people wanted to visit. Everything about the town screamed that there was something wrong, a little hint at something uncanny that lurked in the shadows. It came in the alluring sway of the dancers' hips as they performed the show of their own survival, the voices of the men who pretended to be decent before slipping into something disgusting when night fell, and the shifting eyes of the merchants who deliberately turned their gazes away from Sunshade and its secrets. Everyone could pick up on it, but scarcely anyone had the pride or confidence to voice it. 

Nighttime brought with it all sorts of extra challenges though. The truth of Sunshade's brutality became all too clear, and it was notable why there were no children within the town. The underground excuse of a society was mysterious at best and terrifying at worse, and Primrose was glad that there were no young children forced to endure the brutality of the town. The youngest occupants of the town were often the dancers, and Primrose chose to avert her eyes from such a fact to keep from wanting to kill Helgenish all over again. 

That was why it caught her by surprise when she encountered a young girl outside of the dormitory where she and the other dancers lived. Her hand was about to grace the knob when she saw the young girl spinning around proudly for an older man who was likely her father. They held themselves with such pride and wore clothes that were far from being customary in the Sunlands, making it loud and clear to Primrose that they were visitors for the night rather than official occupants of the town. She knew that was for the best, as she wouldn't wish Sunshade's horrors on anyone. 

"Papa! Papa! I'm going to be in a play!" the little girl chirped, her light brown ponytail swinging back and forth in a hypnotic rhythm exclusive to the joys of childhood. "I will be the beautiful princess, and everyone will look at me! You'll come and watch too, won't you?"

"Of course, my dear," the man replied, approaching his daughter and placing one hand on her shoulder. He smiled as laughter burst free of his daughter's lips. She was barely able to contain her excitement, and the pride on his face was precious when it appeared beside the young girl's joy. 

"Many thanks, m'lord!" the girl said, bowing her head deeply before sweeping back up to her normal height, the actions all poetry in motion. She started laughing again after she dropped the mask of her act. "How was that?" The man opened his mouth to respond, but the young girl prattled on without even waiting for an answer. "And guess what, Papa? When I grow up, I'm going to be a beautiful dancing girl--the star of the stage!"

Primrose did her best to hide the way that her shoulders knotted themselves with tension at those words. She had once danced before her father after being taught a particularly difficult move. Primrose's mother had taught her father before she passed away many years ago, and he took it upon himself to pass the movement onto his daughter. She could still remember the way that he had beamed down at her as Primrose declared in her youthful naivete that she would come to be the star of every show. Geoffrey had simply smiled, unaware as to the true brutality that such a title could bring to her. Primrose had certainly fulfilled her promise, but it was far from being in the way that she would have liked. Helgenish was not the one who she wanted to dance for each night. Even if the performances were for her father, Helgenish was the one benefitting from her shows, and she detested him for it with every bone in her body. 

When Primrose managed to drag herself back to reality, she could see that the young girl's father had grown pale. "A dancing girl? That is a dream best forgotten," he advised her. Primrose could have sworn that he shot a glance over in the direction of the tavern, but his expression was firmly unreadable. 

"But why, Papa?" the young girl asked, her eyes brimming up with tears at the shattered dream that she had been granted. She couldn't seem to believe that her father had betrayed her in such a way as to suggest that she couldn't accomplish such a task, unaware of the true motivations behind his words. 

The man paused for a long moment before continuing. "Helena, my dear. You want to grow up to be a fine lady, yes? Like the princess you will play?" he prompted, shifting the course of the conversation effortlessly. His daughter, Helena, nodded furiously in response. "Then it would be better not to say such things. Not in this town, at least..."

"But what's wrong with dancing?" Helena pressed, her lip starting to quiver as she arrived on the verge of tears. "It's so much fun!" She glanced around the area with a frown, trying to find something that she could use to help her argument, before her eyes found Primrose. She let out a gasp before a smile appeared on her face. "Look at her! She... She's beautiful..."

Primrose forced herself to appear as if she wasn't staring. She managed to correct herself just in time as the man looked in her direction. If Helena noticed Primrose's strange behavior, she didn't mind it. Instead, Helena wandered over in Primrose's direction, prompting the brown-haired dancer to lean over, pressing her palms against her knees. "Hello, child," Primrose greeted kindly. Helena admired her costume with wide eyes, clearly understanding that Primrose was the very same dancing girl that she dreamed of being. In response, Primrose pivoted on the spot, flicking her hair back over her shoulder as she became the picture of elegance and grace that Helena admired so. 

Her father simply scoffed and shook his head. "Come now, Helena. This way," he instructed of his daughter. Helena walked back to his side. "I'll tuck you into bed back at the inn. Papa has business to attend to this night." He began to walk away, Helena skipping alongside him, energy renewed at her encounter with Primrose. 

The dancer continued to stare at the man and Helena for a long time, trying her best to ground herself once again. Along the way though, the man turned around to look at Primrose. She finally came to understand everything that had previously been impossible to comprehend about his gaze. He had been hiding it when his daughter was looking, but as soon as Helena's back was turned, the truth came out. 

The man's supposed business was at the tavern with the very dancers that he had criticized for being degenerates. It was ironic in a way that made Primrose feel sick. He had told his daughter to not grow up to become a dancer, but he clearly intended on indulging in the very services that he forbade his daughter from carrying out. Helena didn't understand the weight that her words carried in Sunshade, but her father most certainly did. Primrose pretended that she didn't taste blood under the bottom of her tongue at the man's behavior. 

Instead, she simply turned around to face the dormitory once again. "I suppose I should get back to my own work," she murmured. Her fingers closed around the knob, and she walked inside, pretending that she had a handle on that which was out of her control. That was part of the performance, after all, and she wasn't about to let such an illusion slide free of her grasp. 

When Primrose walked into the dormitory, she was met with the familiar faces of the other dancers. They had likely gotten back into the dormitory while she was focused on the conversation between Helena and her sickening father, and Primrose wondered just how much she had lost herself in bitter reminiscence. Amice, Gisella, and Cateline stopped talking briefly to stare at Primrose with a frown forming in their eyes, but they shifted back to one another seamlessly a beat later, not seeming to care that she had arrived at all. Yusufa watched Primrose from the far side of the dormitory, her eyes wide as she did her best to stay away from the other three dancers in the room. 

Primrose sat down on the floor to reach out for another sandal. She removed the one that she was wearing and set it aside before allowing her foot to press against the ground in her search. Pain shot up from the bottom of her foot, and she let out a gasp of pain before pulling away. For a moment, she was aware of how suffocating the silence in the room was, and she realized that the dancers had stopped their chattering to stare at her. She couldn't see them, but she knew that the trio of dancers that had made her their enemy were glaring in her direction. She could feel their judgement from across the room. 

Primrose's fingers abandoned the search for the sandal to drop to the base of her foot. She fiddled briefly before finding the source of her pain. It was a small thorn no longer than half of her pinky finger, but it was still more than mighty enough to cause significant pain. She pulled it free of her skin and saw that there was blood on the bottom of her foot and the thorn between her fingers. She stared at the crimson liquid that was dripping over the sides of the thorn, and Primrose was glad that she had never been the squeamish type. 

"Oh, someone fetch a handkerchief! Primrose seems to be bleeding, the poor dear," Amice declared, holding one hand up to her forehead in a gesture that could only be described as the apex of dramatization. 

"Perhaps she got a blister? She's always dancing so passionately," Gisella chimed in, her eyes filled with the same sense of malice that Amice's gaze held. She started to laugh, and Amice and Cateline joined in a moment later. They went back to their conversation without wasting a beat, leaving Primrose to sit on the ground with blood still dripping free of her injury. Primrose held one hand beneath the sole of her foot to ensure that she didn't leave stains on the carpet, fully aware of the punishment that Helgenish would bring down if she did anything to damage the elaborate and expensive purchases that he had made. 

Primrose was so focused on not getting blood on the carpet that she didn't notice Yusufa was standing over her until she heard the other girl's voice. "Are you alright, Prim?" Yusufa questioned, looking down at the other girl with eyes brimming over with concern. 

Primrose hoisted herself off the ground and onto the bench, still cradling her foot to keep from getting blood anywhere that it shouldn't have been. "I'm fine. It's nothing I haven't dealt with before," she replied. It was true that this was more of an issue than she cared to admit. The other dancers of Sunshade despised her because of how much Helgenish blatantly favored her. Even before Amice, Gisella, and Cateline, there had been others who hated Primrose with everything that they had. It was nothing new, but that didn't change the bitterness that came with being antagonized by people who should have realistically been her allies when it came to combatting Helgenish and his habits of abuse towards her and the rest of the dancers. 

Primrose must have shown a bit too much weakness though, as Yusufa pivoted on her heel and faced the other three dancers in the room, rage boiling over in her eyes. "Don't you think that's enough already? Do you take such pleasure in others' pain?" she questioned, her voice directed squarely at the trio of dancers nearby. All laughter halted immediately as the girls turned towards Yusufa. "We're all the master's playthings--all of us! And we all know what happens to the girls who displease him. Or have you forgotten? Beaten half to death and tossed in the gutter. Left for dead, sick and starving."

Yusufa's brutal honesty was too much for Cateline, and she took a step forward in fear. "S-Stop that!" she cried out, refusing to meet Yusufa's eyes because of the sheer terror that had overcome her body. "We all know well enough where we stand. We know what he can do to to us!"

"Then why torment one of our own?!" Yusufa snapped back, not at all deterred by Cateline's moment of vulnerability and fear. The air remained heavy after her outburst, and the dancers just stared at her, uncertain as to what was going to come next. 

Primrose shook her head as she approached Yusufa, though she only did so once she was sure that no blood would seep onto the carpet. The small injury had been taken care of, at least for the most part. "Thank you, Yusufa. But there's no need for you to make foes on my behalf," she assured her companion. 

"Prim..." Yusufa said, her voice little more than a small whimper that was barely audible above the stifling silence that filled the room. Amice, Gisella, and Cateline all stared on in bitter silence. 

The door was thrown open before anyone could say anything else, and Helgenish stampeded into the space. His face was red from anger, and everything about his posture screamed that he was dangerous and not to be trifled with. "What are you doing, yowling back here?! Sheathe your claws. It's time for work!" he announced. He got close to Amice, nearly pressing his face against hers. "Or do you think money flows into my coffers by itself? Get out there and collect your tips!"

Amice shoved her head down and scurried for the door, Gisella and Cateline hot on her heels. Primrose grabbed a sandal and went for the door as well, knowing that she could put on her shoe after she had left. Yusufa was halfway out the door when Helgenish's arm stuck itself out in front of Primrose, halting the brown-haired dancer's escape immediately. "Not you, Primrose. You stay," Helgenish instructed. Yusufa gave a final glance of concern to Primrose over her shoulder before leaving. Primrose reached down and slid her foot into her sandal as quickly as possible, not bothering with the details. She wanted to be able to leave as soon as the chance arose and her conversation with Helgenish was finished. The idea of being around him made her want to be sick, even more so than most nights. 

Primrose watched carefully as Helgenish wandered deeper into the room, and she followed him from a distance, not wanting to accidentally prod his growing anger. Unfortunately for her, he seemed to explode on his own terms. "What was that sorry show you gave today?" Helgenish questioned, his voice low and threatening, each word bringing with it the promise of something dreadful. When Primrose didn't respond immediately, he snarled. "Do you think I'm blind? One glance was all I needed to know your mind was not where it ought to be. I can see every thought in that pretty, empty little head of yours--and they were not of dancing tonight."

Primrose kept her eyes as even as possible, unwilling to give up the show. Helgenish could convince himself that he knew all that he wanted to, but Primrose was fully aware of the truth. She was going to destroy him one of these days, and she wouldn't hesitate when the moment arrived. How could Helgenish read her every thought and still keep her around when part of her always seemed to dream of stabbing him with her dagger and watching as he writhed around in pain?

"You haven't forgotten your debts now, have you? You haven't forgotten who owns you," Helgenish went on, leaning in close to Primrose's face to ensure that the words sent a shiver running down her spine. "You know the fate that awaits you if you dare defy me. Don't you, kitten?" Primrose simply nodded, and Helgenish's hand came up to cup at her chin in a way that was so beyond uncomfortable that it made her want to twist his wrist until it snapped. "I'm warning you because I care, Primrose. I wouldn't want to see anything untoward happen to my shining star."

Primrose took a step back and looked down at the ground before raising her eyes once more, allowing an expression of pure apology to cross her face. "I'm sorry, Master. Forgive me," she told the man, keeping her voice in a low, careful drawl that she knew he would be unable to resist. Being able to play him was part of the game, and she knew better than to let go of this advantage that came with his blatant weakness. "I was simply remembering the first day I came to you." There was one other little push in the right direction that would shove Helgenish closer to her favor. It was far from the truth, but it was keeping her alive, and that was what mattered. 

"Oh, were you now?" Helgenish questioned. He still didn't seem to be buying the words, and that just meant that Primrose was going to have to push a little bit harder in order to fully seal the deal. 

Primrose nodded in response to his inquiry. "Not a day--not a moment passes when I am not thankful for all you have given me," she told him, the words dripping like poison off her lips. "Pray forgive my lack of focus today, Master. It will not happen again."

"Oh, my dear, dear Primrose..." Helgenish cooed next. Primrose's scheme had worked, it seemed. His hands pressed together behind his back as he approached the window to the dormitory, staring out at the street on the other side of the glass. "I, too, often think back on the day you came to my door. Just imagining the sight of you dancing for me, as sweet and innocent as you were... It tickled me so. And you met my every expectation. You have been my best investment... But tonight, you have displeased me. And for this, you must atone. The crowd is looking thin tonight. Out on the streets with you, and bring us some custom. Custom with coin enough to cover a week's expenses. If you can do that, I may still... Go easy on you. At least relatively so, kitten."

Primrose bowed into a deep curtsey. "You are too kind, Master," she said carefully, keeping a carefully-crafted smile on her lips. Helgenish smiled in twisted satisfaction before gesturing for her to leave, and she left the dormitory behind a moment later. 

She nearly collided with someone as soon as she left, and Primrose found herself face-to-face with none other than Yusufa. The dark-haired woman's face was overcome with concern as she glanced back and forth between the door and Primrose. Beyond the agitation though, there was relief in her gaze. "Bravo, Prim! That was a performance for the ages," she complimented. "How do you do it? I want to vomit every time I have to call him 'Master.'"

Primrose didn't know how to answer that without giving away the truth of her mission. In fact, she didn't think there was a way to respond to Yusufa's question honestly without betraying everything that she had been working towards. She was silent for a long moment, pretending that she didn't feel Yusufa's inquisitive gaze on her, intent and unyielding. 

In the end, when Primrose did speak, it was to change the subject and take the attention away from her. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be out collecting tips?" she questioned, glancing over at the nearby crowd. 

Yusufa hesitated before offering her response. "I was worried about you. How is your foot?" she asked, gesturing down to Primrose's injury. 

"What?" Primrose replied, admittedly caught off guard at Yusufa's sudden well wish regarding her health. 

Yusufa didn't wait for a further explanation, instead reaching into a pouch that was hidden beneath her skirt. The dancers often used it for storing coins, but Yusufa seemed to have something else there as well. "Here. Use this," she said as she held out a small handkerchief in the direction of Primrose, a careful smile on her face. 

"A handkerchief?" Primrose questioned, still unable to fully rationalize what was happening. She eyed Yusufa with confusion, almost as if she expected the other woman to give up her secrets if she probed silently with enough force. 

Yusufa, however, did not respond with an explanation the way that Primrose was hoping for. "Be careful out there, okay?" she instructed carefully. She walked away a moment later, seemingly suddenly aware of how much she had missed out on regarding pay for the night already. She was gone with the crowd a short while after the fact, leaving Primrose to just stare in ghastly shock. 

Primrose took a moment to lean over and clean her injury with the handkerchief. She didn't understand why Yusufa was being so kind to her about this. What reason did Yusufa have to be nice to her at all? Primrose was hated by the rest of the dancers, so why did Yusufa feel differently? It didn't make any sense to her. It would have been so much easier for Yusufa to side with the other dancers, making the majority her allies rather than her enemies, but she stood by Primrose no matter what happened. Primrose truly didn't understand, and part of her wondered if she would ever find a way to comprehend what was going through Yusufa's head. 

It wasn't until after Primrose had tucked away the handkerchief in her own hidden pouch that she adjusted her sandal's straps, finding that she felt much better after cleaning the wound on her foot. She had spent enough time focusing on other matters for the moment though; Helgenish wouldn't be satisfied if she wasted too much more time wrapped in nostalgia. That was what had gotten her into this situation in the first place, and she had to find a way out of it. Finding a customer that would pay well was her priority. All she had to do was find some sucker that would be able to pay quite a bit of gold when he slipped up and indulged in a bit too much wine. It was her only thread of salvation at that point, and Primrose wasn't about to give it up. 

The show that she put on for Helgenish was a matter of survival, of close encounters with danger that she had learned how to escape over the years. The performances that she put on for others were always with the intent of receiving as many leaves as possible for the sake of fueling Helgenish's coffers, another facet of her unfortunate life in Sunshade. The next show was bound to be something a bit different, but she was going to execute it the way that she had learned to regardless. 

She found a man dressed in fancier clothing within the town's square, and Primrose could tell immediately that he was going to be an easy mark. She allowed her hips to sway a bit more than usual as she approached him carefully, making sure that every part of her body contributed to a perfect image of grace and maturity that the customers of Sunshade had come to adore. "Lovely evening, isn't it, m'lord?" she questioned. When the man looked in her direction, Primrose continued. "Mayhap you'd care to share it with me?"

The man shook his head, deliberately avoiding making eye contact with her. He seemed to know that as soon as he looked at her for too long, his previous plans would crumble like dust. "A tempting offer, but I travel on business. I must depart early on the morrow," he explained. 

"It must be a fascinating sort of business that you do. Perhaps you could tell me more over a drink?" Primrose asked, recovering from the initial blow as quickly as she could manage. "I'd love to get to... Know you better." She walked towards the man, placing her palm against the nearby post that was holding up the awning of the stand that the man had been observing prior to her arrival. Primrose had come to understand the angles that her viewers liked best over the years, and this was a perfect way for her take advantage of his poorly-hidden weaknesses. 

"I-I am most afraid... I cannot..." the man stammered, taking in the full beauty of Primrose's appearance. He was doing his best to appear as if he still had a grip on his composure, but Primrose could tell that his control of the situation was starting to slip, and all she had to do was circle in before dealing the finishing blow. 

"I dance at the tavern just down the street," Primrose went on, her voice low and sultry. She gave a nod of her head in the direction of the road to the tavern. "I'd be happy to put on a show... Just for you. Admit it. Wouldn't you care to spend a little more time with me?"

The man was unable to hide the way that he tripped over his words when he responded. "Oh... Oh my... I cannot resist such beauty..." he admitted. He looked up to meet Primrose's eyes, and it was in that moment that his fate was sealed as yet another victim of Primrose's alluring behavior. His urge to fight back against her actions had disappeared, leaving behind a hollow shell that scarcely knew how to protest in its place. 

"Pray come hither..." Primrose whispered, gesturing for him to follow her. He nodded and trailed in her footsteps as she led him down the streets of Sunshade. The shoppers at the market were all watching her from afar, infatuated with her beauty but too intimidated to grow nearer. Primrose figured that if she could lay the groundwork while she was with her first target of the night, then it would make it much easier for her to return later in the evening to pick up other customers. After all, this was merely the first act of the show, and she had to be there throughout every scene of her performance. Such was the way of Sunshade, after all. 

When Primrose arrived in the tavern, the other dancers were already there. Helgenish was standing nearby, and she was immediately aware of his eyes on her. The customer beside her was escorted away by Gisella, who offered to seat him. The businessman sent one last glance of yearning in Primrose's direction before he followed Gisella, clearly still expecting Primrose to follow up on her promise. She gave him a small wave, and that was enough to satisfy his needs for the moment, allowing him to retreat soon afterwards. 

"Yes. That one's pockets look sufficiently deep," Helgenish commented as he strolled over to Primrose's side. "Good work, kitten. You will be treated well tonight." He didn't reach out to touch her because they were in public, but his eyes still made it clear what was crossing through his mind. 

"You honor me, Master," Primrose said, keeping her perfect smile spread across her lips for just a few moments longer. 

"The seats are starting to fill. See that not a single cup goes empty," Helgenish instructed of her, jabbing one finger in her direction commandingly. He turned on his heel and departed a moment later. 

Primrose got to work once he was gone, and she approached a table that held a few of the regulars of the Sunshade tavern after picking up a pitcher of wine from the bar. "Good evening, gentlemen," she said, putting on her best mask once again as she filled their glasses to the brim in an elegant motion that she had mastered over the years. 

"Ah, Primrose. You're looking more and more lovely each time I see you," one of the men said with a smile that was nothing less than perfectly sincere despite its drunken edges. 

"It's been a while since we last enjoyed your company. Will you be with us long this evening?" Primrose questioned. At one point, years ago, she would have found it unsettling that she was able to slip into this mask so easily, but she had come to understand what it meant to survive in Sunshade over time, and it no longer bothered her as much as she would have once assumed. 

"As long as you'll have me for, my dear," the man replied as he took a hearty swig of the glass that Primrose had just refilled. His smile seemed to grow even more unsettling with every drink that he indulged in. 

"Is that so? I'll have to give it some thought then," Primrose said, giving him a playful wink and a mischievous smile. The man laughed, and Primrose picked up her pitcher before retreating from the table once again. "I'll see you again later."

Primrose was on her way to the next table when she heard a voice that she didn't recognize among the frequent patrons of Sunshade's tavern, and it was a miracle that she didn't drop the pitcher in her hands to the ground. Instead, she simply froze, trying to determine if this was actually real or not. 

"And if that's all, I'll be taking my leave."

Could it be?

It was. 

There, on his left arm, was the mark of the crow. Primrose would recognize it anywhere, and his voice was a familiar one that had haunted her every nightmare. Years had passed, but she still knew exactly who that man was, and all she could do was stare, her mask shattered in one simple motion. 

He was there. 

And so the next act began.

Chapter Text

Primrose didn't care who was watching her as she stared at the man with the crow tattoo. This was it. She had been waiting for this night for the past ten years, and at long last, the time had come where she would be able to exact her revenge. This man had played a part in the murder of her father, and she was going to carve her dagger into his chest for what he had done. All she had to do was find a way to get him alone and then reach for the knife that was hidden beneath her skirt. Everything would fall into place from there. 

The man started to walk towards the door of the tavern soon afterwards, and Primrose felt all of the air in the room get caught in her chest. No, this couldn't be happening. He couldn't just leave that way. She had to catch him and make him pay for what he had done to her father. This was what she had spent so many years waiting for, and she had to make sure that justice was served. She couldn't go another ten years uncertain as to if she would ever be able to carry out the retribution that had become her life's purpose. She had to do it then and there regardless of who got in her way. 

Primrose was running towards the front of the building before she could stop herself, the pitcher of water abandoned on the nearest table. She was about to reach out for the knob when an arm stuck out in her path, stopping her in her tracks immediately. 

"And where do you think you're going?"

If the arm weighed down by ornate jewelry wasn't enough to show Primrose who her new foe was, the familiar voice of Helgenish was. She turned to see him blocking her path while making as little of a scene as possible. His eyes were trained against her in one of the firmest glares that she had witnessed in a long time, but she could barely bring herself to care. Desperation was mounting in her chest. The man was out on the streets of Sunshade. That meant that he could be gone with the crowd in the blink of an eye, and she wouldn't have a guarantee as to if she would be able to find him again. It was now or never, and she knew it. 

Helgenish was seemingly ignorant as to her internalized plight, almost ironic given how he claimed to be able to see every little thought that passed through Primrose's head. "So curious about that man, are you? Was it love at first sight, kitten?" he asked. He was on the verge of laughing at seeing her suffering, as if seeing a mighty bird of the skies trapped beneath his heel was enough to feed whatever twisted desires fueled his every action. 

"Master..." Primrose whispered softly, hating how weak and feeble her voice sounded when it left her lips. She almost contemplated taking her dagger out and killing Helgenish then and there, but that would only lead to her getting caught before she found the ability to fully carry out her plan. She had to stop all three of the crows, and killing Helgenish before an audience would bring a halt to her mission faster than anything else. 

Her murderous urges went unnoticed by Helgenish as the man continued, his face still contorted into a sickening sneer. "You wouldn't think of abandoning the stage and your customers before the night is through, now would you?" he asked. He didn't want for a response, instead just turning Primrose around after positioning his hands on her shoulders. "Back to work, Primrose." He pushed her back towards the rest of the tavern effortlessly. "I trust I don't need to repeat myself. You do remember what happens to the wicked little kittens who cross me, don't you?"

Primrose nodded and took a step away from him, trying to pretend that the rest of the tavern's noises weren't converging on her mind and leaving her life as little more than a haze of static secondary to her mission. She approached the table where the pitcher was waiting for her and reclaimed it, trying to ignore the way that her hands shook with something between shock and rage at Helgenish's actions and the man of the crow finally appearing before her. Helgenish left soon afterwards, gone with a simple opening and closing of the tavern door. 

Primrose stared down at the wine in the pitcher for a long minute, struggling to keep her rage from boiling over. There was no way to say that she was going to get this chance again. It had taken ten long years for her to finally find the man with the crow tattoo, and a majority of that time had been spent in Sunshade, waiting for the stars align in the perfect way that would allow her to see him. Helgenish was clearly acquainted with him given the way that he smirked and laughed at Primrose's struggles, and this meant that he was just another obstacle in her course for revenge. Damn it all, she had to get out there and kill the one behind her suffering, but she wouldn't be able to get past Helgenish. If she was spotted, then--

"Prim? What's the matter?"

Primrose nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt the hand on her shoulder, and she glanced behind herself to see Yusufa standing nearby, concern written all over her face. "It's not like you to look all flustered like this," Yusufa commented, her worry only fueled further by the panic that had crossed Primrose's face at the sudden contact. 

Primrose opened her mouth to try and explain, but the words refused to form. Luckily for her, Yusufa just shook her head and smiled gently. "You don't need to tell me. For you to risk angering the master like that, it must be something important," she said. After a brief pause, determination flashed in Yusufa's eyes. "Leave it to me. I'll keep him busy. You slip out the back door on the upper floor."

Primrose just stared at Yusufa, her heart pounding in her ears. She couldn't believe that Yusufa was willingly offering to help her of all people. All of her nonsensical musings about Yusufa's acts of kindness came rushing back to her, but in the end, they were shoved to the wayside by one thread of certainty among the chaos. "You shouldn't get involved. You will put yourself at risk," Primrose said cautiously. She couldn't tell if she was talking more about the man with the crow tattoo or Helgenish, and visions of murder on the actions of both parties flashed behind her eyes in a sudden, violent series of remembrances. 

Yusufa frowned and shook her head. "Look, Prim. Maybe you don't tell me what you're thinking, but that doesn't matter to me. I'm on your side and always will be," she assured Primrose, a smile of pure generosity spreading across her lips. 

"On my... Side?" Primrose echoed, still not believing what she was hearing. She didn't know why Yusufa was being so nice to her, and she couldn't help but feel as if she was missing out on something crucial. Suddenly, the pouch beneath her skirt felt much heavier under the influence of the handkerchief that Yusufa had given her just a short while prior (even if it felt like a thousand years had passed already). 

"When the other girls would pick on me and tell me to know my place... You were always the one who stood by me," Yusufa explained, her expression softening into something gentle and sincere. "You never say much... You're always so distant. Aloof, even. But I know you just don't want to burden others with your troubles. I know you better than you think, Prim. And I know that, deep down, you have a good heart."

Primrose watched Yusufa in confusion, not understanding in the least why the other girl was so overcome with emotion when she spoke of her. Nothing about Yusufa seemed to make sense, and her analysis of Primrose was striking and perfect in a way that almost unsettled her. "A... Good heart?" Primrose asked, hating the way that her stomach churned at those words. She was seeking blood, so she hardly fell into the category, but Yusufa seemed to believe it with such conviction that Primrose almost wanted to have faith in her too. 

Yusufa nodded in response, her eyes so full of hope and love that it made Primrose think her vision was growing dark with disbelief. Still, Primrose managed to take a few steps in the direction of the stairs that would take her to the back entrance. "Yusufa, I... Thank you." Primrose couldn't bring herself to say much else, and she dashed up the stairs as quickly as she could manage without attracting too much attention. Primrose couldn't tell if she was running towards the man with the crow tattoo or away from Yusufa's eyes that confused her with how kind they were despite being directed at someone as disgraced and fallen as she was. 

Yusufa watched Primrose's departure from the bottom floor of the tavern, and she just let out a small laugh from behind her hand. "Always a woman of few words," Yusufa commented simply. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

~~~~~

Olberic hated Sunshade the instant he set foot in the dreadful excuse of a town. 

He had heard all of the rumors about Sunshade and then some. The place was sickening at best and downright disgusting at worst, and Olberic wanted to be rid of the town immediately. There weren't any other towns for miles though, and Sunshade was their only option if they wanted to have a roof over their heads overnight. Olberic glanced over at the rest of his party to see if they were anxious as well. Ophilia's expression was notably uneasy, and she seemed to retreat in on herself when she noticed the way that the probing eyes of passerby glossed over her. Cyrus was unreadable and analytical, searching for the nearest shop for them to replenish their supplies from many battles with monsters. Tressa reached down to examine a few leaves that had been dropped on the ground, and she shoved them into her pocket when no owner appeared before her eyes. 

Olberic's eyes found the tavern soon afterwards, and he was almost desperate when he turned to the rest of the group, trying to usher them in the right direction. Being out in the open was a death sentence in Sunshade, especially with two young women such as Ophilia and Tressa. Olberic just wanted them to be safe, and that involved minimizing their time in Sunshade as much as possible. They would duck into the inn, stay there overnight, and leave as soon as they were able to when morning arrived. Olberic made a silent note to start focusing on buying camping gear when they were out of Sunshade. For the time being, they had to keep moving. He refused to stay in Sunshade any longer than they had to, and having camping gear would minimize such concerns in case they came across unfortunate towns in the future. 

Olberic's hand practically never left his sword's hilt as he started to walk in the direction of the inn. Ophilia followed in his shadow like a duckling desperately trailing in the footsteps of its mother. Tressa's eyes were careful, making it clear that she was starting to understand that something was wrong. Cyrus remained at the back of the party, trying to find anything else of note that would aid them in their travels. 

Olberic's gaze settled upon something unexpected as they moved towards the inn. At this time of the night, he expected all of the dancers in the town to be down at the tavern to fulfill the darkest whisperings about Sunshade's nighttime activities. He certainly didn't anticipate a woman in resplendent red moving in the shadows of the back alleys of town with panic etched across her face. It was almost concerning that she was so nervous, and Olberic found himself staring out of worry for her. Ophilia noticed the dancer from her place behind Olberic, and she watched with wide, agitated eyes as well when the woman settled herself behind the shadow of a rock that overlooked a back exit of the town where two men stood in the gentle glow of torchlight. 

~~~~~

Primrose's fingers pressed against a rock that bordered Sunshade. The town was carved into the middle of nowhere inside the Sunlands of southern Orsterra with large rocks that hid the town from the light of day and masked the darkest activities that took place between ignorant eyes. Primrose used the landscape to her advantage to ensure that she wasn't seen by Helgenish or the left-handed crow while still being close enough to overhear their conversation. 

Her suspicions about the two of them knowing one another were being confirmed with each passing second. The crow man was the one to speak first, his voice so casual that it almost seemed criminal. "You will bring the women I need--won't you now?" he questioned, his voice the same unsettling cadence that it had been ten years prior. "Competent help is so hard to come by these days. Whatever is a man to do?"

Helgenish, so in charge of every situation normally between his imposing aura and domineering behavior, actually flinched and stammered under the gaze of the crow man. "I-I can assure you, m'lord, I am doing all that I can--"

The man shook his head to silence Helgenish, and his voice took on an almost dangerous quality. "Helgenish. We are friends, are we not?" he asked, each word a threat dripped in nauseating honey. "Friends take care of one another, yes? They do not... Disappoint each other."

Helgenish was starting to squirm more openly because of the man's words, and Primrose would have enjoyed it if she wasn't quite so filled with rage at the sight of the crow man going about his life so casually when he had ruined hers all those years ago. "I-I will do everything in my power--"

"I saw a fine dancing girl in the tavern. I would rather like such a girl for my own," the left-hand man remarked. "The girl in the red. She truly was splendid... And she would do well to fit my own ends."

Primrose could have sworn that she saw red, the same bright and dangerous color as both her dress and the blood that had been spilled from her father's body, but she did her best to stay grounded. Her fingers dug into the rocks to ensure that she didn't lose focus completely. As soon as her vision returned in full, she focused in on the sight of the left-handed crow man and the one who bowed so eagerly to his whims. 

"Bring the women to Stillsnow," the man with the crow tattoo said, starting to walk away through the tunnel found nearby. He paused after a few steps before turning his head over one shoulder to look at his companion. "And Helgenish? Try not to keep me waiting."

"B-But of course, m'lord!" Helgenish squeaked despite his regular aura of power. The man with the crow tattoo disappeared into the tunnels of Sunshade, a series of caverns that offered an alternate route to the outside of town in case someone didn't want to be seen. It wasn't a recommended route because of how many monsters were found inside, but due to the man's experience with killing, it likely didn't matter in the least to the man of the crow. 

Helgenish turned to start walking back towards the tavern afterwards, and Primrose pressed herself as hard against the rock nearby that she could while praying that he didn't see her. Luckily, Helgenish passed her by and kept moving on his merry way. 

Primrose stared into the Sunshade tunnels with horror in her heart. Her chest was tight, but she knew that she had to do this. The man was waiting for her, and she was going to get to him. Worst case scenario, she knew his destination. Stillsnow. Heaven above, she finally had what she needed, and she was going to find the victory and vengeance that she had been searching for all those years. 

~~~~~

Olberic was still staring at the dancer when she was suddenly overcome by relief. He didn't understand what it was that had caught her attention, but a man overdressed in jewelry soon answered his question, and Olberic found his hand curling tighter around the hilt of his sword as Helgenish came closer. Everything about the man was dangerous, and Olberic could feel it deep in the core of his body. 

Olberic felt like he was going to scream when he saw Helgenish stop and face in their direction. "Sweet girls you are... Lovely little kittens," Helgenish commented, his eyes finding Ophilia and Tressa in a way that seemed downright criminal to Olberic. "Are you in search of work? I would be more than happy to provide."

Ophilia was stuck to her spot in pure terror, cowering within the hefty shadow left behind by Olberic's broad shoulders. Tressa's lips curled into an agitated snarl, and Cyrus stuck out an arm in front of her as a way of covering her from Helgenish's eyes as much as possible. "I would advise you to keep moving, good sir," Cyrus said, his voice somehow more threatening than Olberic would have thought possible. There was a fierceness to his eyes that was murderous, and he wouldn't hesitate to lash out at Helgenish if he was given the reason. That much was clear as day. 

Helgenish was clearly on the verge of snarling back some witty remark that would only aggravate the rising conflict between himself and Cyrus, but he backed off as soon as he saw Olberic's hand on his sword. Helgenish, for all of his dark curiosities, seemed to have at least some sense of self-preservation. He was a coward, but he knew when to quit when push came to shove. Instead of snapping back at Cyrus, he grumbled something Olberic would rather not repeat under his breath before storming off, leaving the party of four alone once more. 

"Disgusting," Cyrus muttered angrily with a shake of his head. Tressa's anger was boiling over, as if she had half a mind to go after the man that had harassed her with an arrow nocked against her bow. Ophilia remained shaky, and Olberic placed one hand on her shoulder as a way of doing what he could to soothe her fears. The tension in her body started to dissipate soon afterwards, and she gave him a grateful nod. 

Olberic's attention moved to the dancer in red next. She had to be involved with Helgenish somehow, and the strange blend of emotions in her eyes made it seem as if there was something wrong involving Helgenish. It was Olberic's sense of justice that prompted him to move in her direction, Ophilia, Cyrus, and Tressa trailing after him for matters of safety and curiosity. 

The dancer was starting to return to her full height when Olberic arrived at her side. "Are you alright?" he questioned, eyes overflowing with concern. "We saw that man come by from this direction, and I doubt he was up to anything good."

Primrose was flustered at first before she managed to regain a grasp on her composure. "I'm doing well enough, kind travelers," she said, though it was clear by her tone that everything about her had become stilted and uncertain as a result of Helgenish's actions. "However, I have other business to attend to, I'm afraid, and I cannot linger here for long."

"It's because of that pompous boil in the satin, right?" Tressa questioned, her hands crossed over her chest. Somehow, her rage had only grown at the mention of Helgenish, and her face was so red that Olberic almost feared that she was going to explode if she was pushed too much harder. 

Primrose's eyes shifted in the direction of the tunnels nearby once again. "He is connected with someone who I know as my enemy. I cannot stay here. I have to go and find him before he leaves town," she explained hurriedly, clearly desperate to leave. Her previous mask of composure had been pulled away, stripped by the tragedy of circumstance, leaving her seeming somewhat bare by comparison to how she would have been under better circumstances. 

Ophilia let out a small gasp, and she glanced up to the dancer as she tried to retreat. "Let us help you!" Ophilia cried out. Primrose turned to face her, flabbergasted at the proposal, before Ophilia cleared her throat and explained. "I... We would like to come with you. Is that alright?"

For a long moment, Primrose just stared at Ophilia, confused as to what it was that she was implying. She glanced in the direction of the other members of the group as well before her expression slipped into determination. "If you're going to come, I suggest following me now. We don't have a moment to waste."

~~~~~

Her name was Primrose, Ophilia learned. 

The Sunshade tunnels had offered the perfect chance for the dancer to explain herself. Her words were hasty, and all she really said was that she was in search of someone who had harmed her greatly in the past. Still, Ophilia was more than glad to hear her story, and something inside of her said that this was what she needed to do. 

The Ember was the reason for her deciding to follow Primrose in the first place. That was something she had noticed previously when she met the other members of their party; the Ember glowed when it was around someone who Ophilia felt oddly attracted to, as if there was a thread of destiny keeping them all close together regardless of how impossible such a thing sounded. It had offered light when Ophilia met Primrose, and she knew that this was something that she had to do. Primrose needed their help whether she was willing to admit it or not, and Ophilia was more than happy to contribute how she could, whether that be through regular means or otherwise. 

Primrose was also quick with a dagger. That was the second truth that Ophilia learned. Once she found herself in her element, Primrose's skills in battle came to her fluently, and all it took was a simple slash of her dagger across the throat of a monster to end everything. She was without hesitation and without mercy, knowing her purpose and always pursing it regardless of what threatened to get in her way. It was as admirable as it was terrifying. 

Primrose was a woman of few words, preferring to keep to herself where possible. The way that she moved through the tunnels of Sunshade made it terrifyingly clear that she was a dangerous woman, and Ophilia stared from afar, uncertain as to how she was meant to approach this mystery dancer. Primrose hadn't explained much about her purpose beyond the fact that she was searching for someone that had wronged her, and Helgenish was seemingly a symptom rather than the sickness. Her dagger was carved with a handful of words, but Ophilia was too far away to fully read them, not that she wanted to invade Primrose's privacy to do so in the first place. 

"I've heard many things about the town of Sunshade," Olberic remarked simply in the lull of time between attacks from monsters within the caves. Nearby, Tressa leaned over and pulled a chest open from its place among the rolling sands of the tunnels. 

"The rumors are likely true," Primrose commented, her lips turning up into a dead smile that refused to fully influence her eyes. The way that she walked, as if she was always putting on a show with no way of backing away from the alluring power of her own performance, was silent confirmation as to this much. 

"That man is the owner of the tavern of Sunshade, I presume?" Olberic prompted. He grunted when he saw a nondescript beast lunging towards him, and all it took was a quick stab of his blade to finish off the monster in question. Primrose watched him with a raised eyebrow, surveying his every motion the way that she had come to do with all of them since their departure from the town itself. 

"Helgenish," Primrose stated simply, and Ophilia knew that this had to be the name of the mysterious man that had harassed her and Tressa upon their arrival in the town. Somehow, the name sounded just as vile as he was. "He does many things, though I suppose that phrasing could easily be applied to many of the people who live here in Sunshade. It's hardly a place that you would want to find yourself in during the later evening... On that subject, what is it that brings you here? If you knew so much about Sunshade, I would have expected you to be smart enough to not stop here." She didn't elaborate further, but Ophilia could tell by the way that Primrose's eyes drifted in her direction before falling on Tressa that it had everything to do with Helgenish's despicable attitude. 

"We're on our way to Saintsbridge," Cyrus explained, his voice sharp and on edge. A moment later, he heard a monster start to creak from the shadows, and he turned to release an attack. Primrose beat him to it, unveiling a strike of dark magic that consumed the beast in question. Cyrus hit the beast with his staff before Primrose dealt the finishing blow with her dagger, her eyes still devoid of anything resembling mercy. 

"I see," Primrose replied, clearly not seeing at all. "You didn't have another town to stop in, I'm willing to guess. In all honesty, you would be better off stopping in the wilderness than Sunshade." Something about her voice was so raw and painfully honest that it stung to Ophilia's ears in a way that she struggled to describe. Ophilia swallowed dryly, and she wondered if perhaps there was something deep down that was pushing Primrose to open up to them the way that Ophilia had been nudged to offer her aid back in Sunshade. 

"At least it gave us the chance to meet you," Tressa offered, a smile on her face. She nocked an arrow on her bow, and a moment later, she sent the strike spiraling through the air. A monster groaned before falling limp from the shadows, and Ophilia wondered just how observant the young merchant was as part of the path that came with pursuing her specific field. 

"So it seems," Primrose hummed noncommittally. Everything about her was impossible to understand, but there were a few facts that Ophilia could see when she glanced in the dancer's direction. Given how little Primrose was willing to yield in terms of her personality and mission, it was up to Ophilia to put the pieces together on her own terms. 

First and foremost, Primrose was lost and found at the same time. There was something tempestuous in her eyes that made it clear that she struggled with a sense of purpose, but at the same time, her gaze was so focused like nothing else that it seemed as if the entire world made sense to her given her ideas as to what her life was meant to be like. It was a strange paradox, and it was odd to see the most defining traits of Olberic and Tressa pulled apart and then fused together into perhaps the most cryptic and detached woman that Ophilia had ever found herself with the pleasure of crossing paths with. 

Secondly, Primrose was not normally this flustered. It was something that Ophilia could see easily given the way that she would have had to carry herself as an occupant of Sunshade, but Primrose seemingly dropped the mask around the other members of their small traveling company. If Ophilia had to guess, Primrose's skirt was part of the act while her dagger was not, and part of her daily routine was fooling others into thinking that she was appealing enough to survive in the brutality of the Sunlands' ethically darkest town. The way that Primrose swung a dagger was hardly befitting of a performer, though that did little to stop Primrose's urges to follow in the footsteps of the nameless figure that had brought her such grief in the first place. 

Finally, Primrose was part of something much darker than she was willing to admit to people that she had first met. The fact that she was pursuing someone through the tunnels of Sunshade was proof enough of this, but Ophilia couldn't shake the feeling that she was stepping into something much more sinister and grand than she could have ever anticipated. She shoved this sensation aside in favor of fighting alongside Primrose and helping the dancer to pursue her goals. The Ember had not failed her previously, and Ophilia was allowing herself to listen to its whispers and trust its judgement as it lit the path through the tunnels towards Primrose's masqueraded ambitions. 

Before anyone could even consider continuing the conversation beyond Primrose's small response, light appeared at the end of the tunnels, and the dancer let out a gasp before starting to run. She didn't bother looking back in the direction of the other members of the group, expecting them to either follow her or be left in the dust. Ophilia's choice was already made before she checked with the others, and she followed after Primrose. Their footsteps fell with echoes across the exit stairway as they stepped into the light and everything that rested beyond. 

Chapter Text

The sun was sinking over the edge of the horizon by the time that Primrose and the rest of the group managed to escape the Sunshade tunnels. She hadn't seen a trace of the man with the crow tattoo since they started their expedition, and she was starting to fear that she had lost him. She knew where he was going at the very least, but Primrose was so fired up with adrenaline and rage that she wanted to take care of him then and there. Her dagger had seen enough monsters; it craved the blood of a monstrous crow. 

Primrose was so distracted with looking around the area that she didn't even realize there was a person standing on top of the outcropping of rock that shielded Sunshade from the light of day on a regular basis. Her shoes were sinking into the sand as she made to escape when she heard a voice she wished that she could forget. 

"And where might you be off to, kitten?"

Primrose froze. The rest of the group behind her gasped and shifted their vision up to Helgenish where he was standing alongside four of his underlings. They were all surrounding a figure that was impossible to make out from such a distance, but the silhouette of their leader was unmistakable. "Master... Helgenish..." Primrose whispered, trying to ignore her own breathless panting as she tried to calm her adrenaline from the thrill of an upcoming murder. "Whatever are you doing here at this hour?"

"Funny you should ask," Helgenish said, his voice lacking any of the twisted kindness that he had shown Primrose earlier that night as he cupped her cheek and thought of the disgusting things he was capable of doing to her. He tilted his head in the direction of the collapsed figure on the ground. "A worthless little stray, this one, but she was kind enough to help me catch a rat."

One of the lackeys kicked the figure forward, and a clipped groan was released into the dusk sky. Yusufa came into view, her blue top and skirt covered with blotchy stains of crimson. Her face was bruised, and her hair appeared as if it was on the verge of being torn out in a gruesome chunk. Her skin was littered with cuts and bruises from the beating that she had received at the hands of the men, and her eyes were barely able to open under the influence of her own terror and pain. 

"Yusufa!" Primrose shouted, surprised by the emotion that had sunk its teeth into her voice. Ophilia gasped and reached for her staff, ready to use it at a moment's notice to ensure that Yusufa would survive. Primrose's stomach sank, and she wished for a brief moment that she never had to see that disgusting combination of blue and red ever again. 

"Prim... I'm... I'm sorry..." Yusufa managed to choke out, her voice barely audible above the gentle yet ominous whisper of the desert winds. She tried to push herself off the ground, but her arms gave way beneath her a moment later, and she let out another breathless moan as her cheek made contact with the sand, exacerbating an injury on the side of her face. 

"She was quite intent on keeping her mouth shut, but my boys helped her get it open," Helgenish explained, his voice painfully casual when he spoke of something as gruesome as beating Yusufa within an inch of her life. He hadn't been able to let her die before then, after all; if Yusufa died, there would be no explanation as to what happened with Primrose. 

Primrose's mind flashed with past images of gruesome attacks at the hands of those that Helgenish referred to as his underlings. They were the ones who kept the dancers and the rest of Sunshade's occupants in line, ruling over the town with an iron fist and daggers in the shadows. She remembered past dancers who had been killed or left to bleed out on the streets as uncaring eyes shifted away, understanding that help would only lead to a slit throat or a stab to the chest. Such was the way of Sunshade, brutal and cruel in the face of atrocities that would make one's stomach churn to dust. 

"It seems I was too lenient with the girl. I won't make that mistake again," Helgenish continued, his voice a cavalier drawl that made Primrose so angry she could spit. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cyrus preparing a spell even though they both knew that they wouldn't be able to reach Helgenish with any type of magic because of how far away he was. 

Primrose saw the glint of steel at the last second, and she took a step forward despite knowing it was a fruitless effort. "No!" she cried out, but she couldn't stop what came next. None of them could. 

Helgenish slashed the dagger across Yusufa's side, opening a wide gash where she had already been littered with wounds. Her scream ruptured the air, echoing endlessly before falling silent. 

"Yusufa!" Primrose screamed, her heart skipping a beat. This couldn't be happening again. How could history be repeating itself in the most gruesome way possible? She had seen somebody that she cared for die once already, so why the hell did it have to happen a second time? 

The revelation hit her like a dagger to the stomach, and it almost made Primrose sick for a dozen reasons she would never be able to define. 

I care about Yusufa. 

Helgenish's foot slammed into Yusufa's side, and her body was sent falling down to the sands below. She let out a groan before falling still, the only sign that she was alive the desperate rise and fall of her chest. Primrose dropped to her knees, one arm curling around Yusufa's head. Ophilia collapsed into the sand beside her, staff raised as she tried to heal Yusufa's injuries. The magic refused to settle no matter what she tried, and Primrose heard a strangled sob escape Ophilia's lips from beside her. 

"P-Prim... I've never... Heard you... Shout so..." Yusufa murmured, her eyes slipping to half-mast. Primrose slipped her fingers between Yusufa's, and their grips clenched against one another as if the gesture would somehow save them from this nightmare. 

"What?! This is no time to...!" Primrose whispered, feeling tears start to well up in her eyes. Why did all of this have to happen? Why hadn't she seen it sooner that she cared about Yusufa? How could fate possibly be so cruel?

"It's not working...!" Ophilia murmured, her voice terrifying in its panic. She continued to wave her staff around, desperately trying to force the healing magic to settle into the injury, but the spell refused to find a home on Yusufa's body. Primrose knew what this meant. She had heard long ago that healing magic worked under nearly all circumstances, but there was one gruesome exception. 

Healing magic could not bring salvation to those who were actively dying. 

Yusufa seemed to have come to this conclusion as well, and her tear-filled eyes locked with Primrose's as she forced herself to speak. "Hey... Prim...?" she questioned softly. "We're... Friends... Aren't we...?" Primrose could barely bring herself to speak, so Yusufa continued. She was openly sobbing from both the overwhelming pain and her own sorrow. "I was... I was sold... To this place... As a child... Everyone was so cruel... So miserable... I thought I'd never... Make any... Friends... It was... Lonely... Having no one... But you... Prim... You were different... Always... Standing tall... Proud... No matter how... Hard your days... Looking at you... It gave me... Strength..."

"Yusufa..." Primrose whispered. She couldn't tell if she was overly aware of the fact that this was where Yusufa's path was ending or if she wasn't aware of it at all. Ophilia's expression had lost all sense of hope, as if some familiar sense of helplessness was suddenly taking her under its wing and she had no ability to escape its brutal grasp. Cyrus, Tressa, and Olberic stood behind the three girls, read to lash out with everything they had the second that Helgenish came down from his cowardly perch so high above them. 

"Tell me... Prim..." Yusufa choked out. Her grip tightened against Primrose's fingers weakly. "Were we... Were we friends...?" 

The use of past tense hit Primrose like a punch to the stomach. She knew that it was true, and that was the part that hurt. "Yes, Yusufa... You were... My friend..." she confirmed, wishing that she had come to this revelation sooner. How could she have been so emotionally incompetent that she didn't realize something that was right in front of her? Primrose wanted to slap herself, but more than that, she wanted to destroy Helgenish for putting her in this situation in the first place. 

The smile on Yusufa's face was almost nauseating with how genuine it was, and Primrose couldn't help but silently and tragically commend her friend's ability to keep her heart positive even in times of such strife. "I'm so... Happy... Not... Alone... Anymore..." 

When Yusufa's eyes fell shut a moment later, her pulse fluttered away from beneath Primrose's grasp. Still, the dancer found herself fumbling in search of some sign that would make this seem like it was nothing more than a nightmare. She knew that it was real, but part of her still wanted to believe that perhaps it didn't have to end this way after all. 

Primrose stared silently at Yusufa's all too still face before she was forced to raise her head by the sound of a familiar but sickening voice. "Is it finally over? I must say, at least her final performance had some life," Helgenish scoffed. Olberic snarled from his place behind Primrose. "If she'd shown that sort of potential earlier, I might have kept her on longer..."

"Enough."

Primrose rose slowly to her feet, doing her best to ignore the feeling of sticky crimson staining her skin and outfit. Or perhaps she wasn't ignoring it at all; maybe she was embracing it, and that was the reason that she was so upset. She reached for her dagger from its place hidden beneath her skirt, and the silver glinted in the sunshine as she poised it up in Helgenish's direction. 

"What was that?" Helgenish asked, his voice a domineering threat as he tried to do what he was best at: putting 'kittens' back in their places. He took a step towards the edge of the outcrop, eyes locked solely on Primrose and the blade in her hand. 

"I have danced enough for you," Primrose growled. "This was the last night that I belonged to you." She imagined how lovely it was bound to feel to stab the dagger straight into Helgenish's chest, to memorize the splatter of the blood of the man that had murdered Yusufa in cold blood for his own amusement and sickening desires. 

"Oh, was it now?" Helgenish questioned, almost entertained with Primrose's show of defiance. "So some wheels do turn in that pretty little head of yours... Here I thought it a waste as empty as the desert."

"I saw you for the foul swine you are the first time I laid eyes on you," Primrose said, her voice so even that it did little to match the rage that was boiling over inside of her stomach. The desert shadows started to swirl as per her every command, ready to lash out and strike the instant that she gave them permission. 

"You would take that tone with me?!" Helgenish snarled. His hands clenched into fists, and his face grew red under the influence of his anger. "You're nothing but a stupid whore! You would have died on the street if not for me!"

Primrose raised her dagger in his direction, eyes narrowing. "You have given me nothing," she replied, her voice eerily strong yet quiet at the same time. "I have always danced on my own two feet. I have always chosen where I step."

"Who do you think you're speaking to, whore?!" Helgenish exploded. He started to storm down the outcropping, his soldiers hot on his heels. His reminder of practicality and keeping his distance from the fighters below had been overpowered by his rage towards Primrose's scalding words, it seemed. 

"All these years..." Primrose murmured, her eyes twisted and her lips curled as if she were looking at nothing more than dirt on the bottom of her sandal. "The jeers, the beatings, the dishonor... I endured it all. All for this day. The day that man appeared before me. I need your stage no longer. I dance for myself now. 

"Primrose..." Helgenish growled. He shook his head a moment later, his face still red as could be. "You forget yourself, little kitten. But I understand--this is just your little show, yes? You wanted to see your master frown. Fine! Very well! You've had your fun! That naughty mouth of yours belongs to me! Put it where it belongs, and if you please me to my satisfaction, I will overlook your impertinence."

Helgenish was on the same level as Primrose now, his soldiers curled around him to create the show of five against five. Ophilia, Cyrus, Tressa, and Olberic were all poised for the battle that they knew was coming, eyes locked squarely on Primrose and the moment when she was bound to give the signal. The dancer glared up at Helgenish as she scoffed and gave her response to his kind offer. "Master... Go pleasure yourself," she told him simply. 

"Wrong answer, kitten," Helgenish snarled down at her. "You know what I do with cats that bite, don't you? I put them down. Just like that one. It's a shame, Primrose... You were always my favorite. What a waste." He reached for the dagger that he had used to steal Yusufa's life and leveled it in Primrose's direction. The silver was still stained with rusted scarlet. "Yes... A terrible, terrible shame..."

Primrose scoffed and shook her head, raising her sword and allowing the shadows to finally heed her call. "The only shame... Is that I could not do this sooner, Master!" she shouted. The darkness of the dusky sands converged upon Helgenish and his men, the calling moment to show that the moment had come where his life was going to be stripped from his pathetic body until there was nothing left to show that he had ever drawn breath in the first place. 

The playing field was even between Helgenish and his quartet of lackeys and Primrose and the quartet of travelers that she had picked up in an improvised dash. She was glad to have the backup, though she kept as many of them behind her as possible as she lunged in the direction of the soldiers. She released another veil of darkened skies over the lackeys, forcing them all to stumble, before stabbing her dagger in Helgenish's direction. She deflected a matching slash of his knife before getting in another hit, though she was forced to retreat hastily after the fact, each breath rattling her chest cavity without any sense of mercy or remorse. 

Tressa let out a mighty cry with all of the rage that she could contain in her body, and a powerful tempest swept through the area a moment later, knocking all of the soldiers off balance immediately. Olberic rushed towards them next, closing his eyes before his sword started to glow with the power of some unknown technique. Soon afterwards, a large projection of a sword swept through the crowd of Helgenish's lackeys, dealing another significant blow to them. Cyrus whispered something under his breath before releasing a gale of magic similar to what Tressa had demonstrated a few short moments previously. 

Helgenish didn't seem to care at all about the other fighters in the area, and his gaze remained locked squarely on Primrose. He rushed toward her with his dagger drawn, and their blades clashed roughly before Ophilia released an attack using her light magic to send him stumbling backwards. Helgenish swore under his breath at the spell that knocked him backwards, and he thrust one hand through the air. 

The shadows that had previously been under Primrose's dominion started to shift to Helgenish's desires, and they fell heavily atop the group of five that dared to stand against him. Primrose glared before the grief in her heart became too much for her to bear, and the darkness was immediately back under her influence. She let out a cry of anger, and the shadows shifted before hitting Helgenish and all four of his lackeys with much more force than she had ever thought possible. Primrose knew that she had grown stronger since the loss of her father, both from an emotional and physical standpoint, but this was much more than she had imagined herself to be capable of. She knew that her grief and unreleased emotions were responsible for her outbursts of magic and the slashes of her dagger, but she couldn't bring herself to care in the slightest. This was what she needed. This was what she had to do in Yusufa's name. 

The other soldiers that had surrounded Helgenish were knocked off guard by the heavy attack of shadow magic that Primrose had brought down upon them, and this left a perfect weakness in their defenses. Tressa released another attack of wind magic with Cyrus following up soon afterwards. Olberic was hit in the arm by a haphazard slash of a blade, but he didn't mind the attack much. His sword started to glow once more a moment later, and that was all that it took for two of Helgenish's underlings to go down. The art of the blade had stolen their lives, leaving two corpses bleeding on the sand on top of Yusufa's body a few yards away. 

Helgenish seemed less bothered over the fact that people had died in his name than one might have expected, and instead, his rage remained directed solely at Primrose. "Know your place!" he roared when she attempted to hit her with a mighty blow that was clearly infused with some type of shadowy magic. Primrose did what she could to get out of the way, but Helgenish had caught her by surprise while she was paying attention to the fall of the two soldiers that Olberic had taken care of. As such, she was hit square in the chest by the pair of brutal attacks of shadow magic, sending her sliding backwards through the sand as she struggled to stand her ground. 

Ophilia was quick to come up behind Primrose once more, her staff raised into the air. The injuries of the party were healed regardless of their severity, ranging from the pain in Primrose's abdomen to the cut in Olberic's upper arm. Nobody had the chance to grant her thanks, but it was clear that the sentiment was understood. Ophilia rushed towards Helgenish as soon as she had offered her healing magic, and with a swift hit of her staff, Helgenish was sent stumbling, his pursuit of Primrose brought to a screeching halt due to the blow to the back of his head. Something sticky and crimson came back on his fingers when he examined the injury, and his rage only grew. 

Helgenish lashed out with a slash of his blade, but Ophilia ducked low to keep from taking the hit. Cyrus was quick to ensure that Ophilia would be able to get away, thrusting one hand against the sandy winds to create an attack of ice that knocked Helgenish as far away from her as possible. Ophilia spared Cyrus a glance over her shoulder out of gratitude, but the fight pressed on regardless, starting with Primrose sinking her dagger in deep to Helgenish's shoulder. The man roared in pain, but Primrose had yanked the knife free and retreated before he could do anything to hurt her. He refused to drop his blade even though his dominant arm had been injured to such a degree, and his eyes took on an almost crazed quality as they watched Primrose from afar. 

Nearby, Tressa stabbed forward with her spear at one of the remaining two lackeys, striking him in the stomach. Olberic finished the job with a jab of his own lance before he turned in the direction of the final man in the area that worked for Helgenish. Once again, Olberic was able to end the life of his foe swiftly, and two more bodies began to contribute to staining the sand scarlet. With the rest of the underlings taken care of, Tressa and Olberic shifted their attention in the direction of the one person who deserved the full force of their rage: Helgenish himself. 

Helgenish's face was starting to grow pale as a result of the wound that Primrose had dealt to him. The previous color that had flooded his features as a result of his boiling rage was starting to disappear for all the right reasons: he wasn't going to be able to survive many other hits like that. If they kept up on the offensive, the travelers would be able to finish the battle swiftly. 

Tressa released an arrow shot that forced Helgenish to drop his dagger when his fingers were struck. He nursed the injury with his other hand but was unable to stop the lance that stabbed at his arm from Olberic. Cyrus flicked his wrist against the wind, and ice once again began to mount in spite of the desert sands that surrounded the area. Ophilia's staff was set by her side as she pressed her hand to the sky, releasing a powerful explosion of light that stole Helgenish's vision and sent him crumbling to his knees. 

Helgenish was so distracted by trying to keep himself upright that he didn't notice the fact that Primrose was upon him until it was too late. His eyes went wide as he looked up at her, but Primrose refused to yield even as Helgenish was shown for the coward that he truly was. For all of his screaming and powerful talk, he was a pathetic creature deep down, and she intended to make sure that he knew it until the moment when he breathed his last. "This is for Yusufa," Primrose whispered, her voice dangerous and low as she stabbed her dagger down into Helgenish's stomach. When she pulled her blade free and retreated, she knew that the fight was as good as finished. Helgenish wouldn't be surviving much longer with his injuries, and there was no way that he would be able to replenish his strength. He was as good as dead, and Primrose was deserting him to understand the same fate that he had visited upon so many of his dancers in the past. One of his 'kittens' had finally scratched back, and it would be his undoing. 

Helgenish had fallen into the sand when he spoke next. "Primrose..." The desert was being stained with blood in the dim light of the dusk, and the only true source of illumination was the ominous glow of the Ember from its place hooked around Ophilia's belt. "You always were... Different from the rest... The fire in your eyes... It burned brighter than any other's ever could... I have seen many a girl in my years... But none... Quite like you... You fascinated me... From the start..." He attempted to push himself to his feet, though all he succeeded in doing was moving forward by a few inches through the desert. "Come, Primrose... Won't you dance... One last time for me...?"

Primrose turned in false contemplation, though the rest of the group's eyes remained locked on Helgenish just to ensure that he didn't try anything. However, Helgenish was completely ignorant to their thoughts, and he managed to recover his dagger amidst the grains of sand before lunging towards Primrose. Ophilia cried out in surprise with Tressa yelping and staggering backwards by a foot. 

But Primrose was one step ahead of them. She flashed her own dagger through the dusky light, and all it took was a single stab to the throat for Helgenish's eyes to go wide as he crumpled into the sand. There was so much blood in the area that it was hard to believe the sands had been pristine before this performance of life and death began a short while prior. Primrose looked down at Helgenish's body with silent detachment, uncaring as to the fact that she had just taken another human's life without remorse. She had been dreaming of this day for so long that it didn't even feel real that he was gone, but she took some twisted sense of pride from it regardless. 

"Quite the dancer yourself in the end," Primrose murmured to herself. Her heart began to sink into her stomach at the recollection that all of this was only happening because Helgenish had turned his attention towards Yusufa as a way of getting to Primrose. He was dead, but at what cost? She had finally realized that she was not alone, that there were people who cared about her, but it was gone before she could ever come to enjoy it. Helgenish was the one responsible, and even if he had paid with his life, Primrose knew that it would never be enough to close the gaping hole at her core where Yusufa had once been. 

"And with that, Master... I do believe my debt is paid," Primrose declared. She wiped off his blood on his clothing after crouching down beside him, so casual about a gruesome task that it was almost terrifying. The rest of the group watched on in silence as Primrose returned to her full height and shoved her dagger back in its sheath beneath her skirt. The fabric of her dancer's costume was still stained with blood from both Yusufa and Helgenish, but she didn't acknowledge it openly, almost afraid of what might happen if she did. 

Instead, Primrose walked over to where Yusufa's body could be found. She crouched down beside the empty shell that had once held the soul of one of the greatest people that she had ever found in this life. Her eyes filled with sad tears, but she didn't bother to wipe the water away as it started to stream down her cheeks. "Yusufa... We are free at last... My friend."

~~~~~

The next hour and a half was a blur, and Primrose couldn't tell if she wasn't going to remember any of it or if she was going to remember all of it. 

Yusufa was given an improvised grave just outside the entrance to the caves. Olberic had helped her to dig it, and Yusufa was laid to rest for the final time in the very place where she had taken her final breath. Helgenish and his underlings were not granted this dignity, left to remain in the sands themselves. The vultures and monsters of the region would have their way with the remnants of the despicable men that had run Sunshade for so many years, and Primrose couldn't care in the slightest. 

She was given the chance to change out of her dancer's garb, but she stared down at the bloodstained clothing for far longer than she had any right to. In the end, she had brought the outfit along after throwing together a few spare costumes for the journey. She would be able to get better clothing in other towns, but Sunshade sure as hell wasn't going to offer what she needed for her journey to Stillsnow. She would cross that bridge when she got to it. 

Primrose had opened her pouch and stared down at the handkerchief that Yusufa had given her earlier that evening, back before either one of them knew what it was like to taste blood and horror under the influence of Helgenish's gruesome actions. Primrose watched the fabric for a long time, unsure as to what she thought was going to happen next. Part of her feared that it was going to drip between her fingers like ash on the wind the same way that Yusufa had. Instead, it remained poised in her grasp even as tears began to stream down her face once again. 

She had found the man of the crow. She had saved the dancers of Sunshade from Helgenish's grasp. She had brought Yusufa the salvation and friendship that she desired. But at what cost? Why did it feel like she would never be able to escape this pain?

The concept of traveling with Ophilia, Cyrus, Tressa, and Olberic just felt natural to her. Primrose didn't know how to define why, but she felt as if it had something to do with the fact that the four of them felt so much like family to her. They were unfamiliar, but she knew that she was going to come to care about them. She had realized the truth too late with Yusufa, but she wasn't going to allow such a chance to pass her by again. Primrose had been given a breath of love in Yusufa's dying moments, and she wanted to cling to that if she could. The truth of her identity and mission remained elusive to the ears of her companions, but all would come to light soon enough. She was sure of that much. 

Sunshade was little more than an outline on the horizon as Primrose looked back at the shattered figment of the town that had taken so much from her. She and the rest of the group would be sleeping in the wilderness away from any towns that night, too damaged by what they had witnessed to linger overnight. That was fine with Primrose. It was her first step away from the past and towards the future. 

From that moment on, every step was going to be taken in honor of Yusufa as well as Geoffrey Azelhart. A new act was beginning, and Primrose was going to follow this show of daggers and vengeance and blood and feathers to its bitter end no matter what. 

Faith would be her shield. 

Chapter Text

The village of Clearbrook was tucked away far from the eyes of most travelers and passerby, perched between tall trees and gentle streams that characterized the Riverlands as a place of such beauty and serene grace. The town was so small that it almost seemed as if a single sneeze was all that it would take to blow it right off the map, insignificant to the world at large but everything to the people who lived within its boundaries. 

Alfyn Greengrass stood in a cozy home within the village, his light brown hair unable to settle properly in its loose ponytail at the base of his neck. He wore a vibrant emerald jacket that seemed somehow too large and too small for his imposing and large frame, and a loose satchel that was barely organized hung from one shoulder. He stood at the counter of the house's kitchen area as he ground materials together to form one cohesive liquid. 

His work was in the foreground of coughs that echoed throughout the small room. An old man was stretched across the bed, a young woman in the seat beside him. Her eyes were filled with concern as she watched tears stream down his cheeks as a result of the violent seizing of his body. "Grandpa... Be strong!" the girl whispered, reaching out for his hand as if that would be able to save him from the illness that was coming to deal such damage inside and out. 

It was after a few breathless moments that the young woman, Henriette, forced herself to her feet, and she walked in Alfyn's direction with concern glazing over her eyes anew. "Can you really save him with that medicine of yours?" she asked. There had scarcely been a reason to doubt Alfyn's skills in the past, and she was fully aware of such a fact. Still, that did little to calm the paranoia that existed every single time that she even dared to imagine one of her loved ones hurt or suffering. 

"You betcha! Just sit tight," Alfyn assured her. He worked diligently for a few more moments before a triumphant grin crossed his features. "Bam! That should do 'er!" He approached the old man with a bowl in hand, bold liquid medicine sitting at the base of the dish. He held it towards the man's lips a moment later. "Drink it down slowly now..."

The man followed Alfyn's directions, and for a long moment, the room was silent. Everyone was expecting him to burst into yet another coughing fit again, but the sound of his wheezing never returned. Instead, the man's eyes were overcome with relief and shock as he looked at Alfyn. "Well, I'll be! Thank you, my boy," he said gratefully. 

Alfyn chuckled and shook his head. "Don't mention it. Just doin' my job," he replied simply. He moved back in the direction of the counter to gather his supplies together once again, every action methodical and practiced just like the sincere smile that was pressed simply across his lips. "This'll stop the coughing for now, but your lungs have seen better days. Try to give the pipe a rest, sir, you hear?"

The old man nodded as Alfyn crossed in the direction of the door. Henriette intercepted him before he could go. "Oh, Alfyn! Thank you ever so much!" she exclaimed, her eyes still brimming with tears from the overwhelming fear that she had felt just a few moments prior. "How blessed we are to have an apothecary like you in our little village." She shoved one hand into her pocket and pulled out a few leaves before trying to drop them into Alfyn's palm. "It's not much, but... Please..."

Alfyn shrugged nonchalantly. "Nah, it's on the house. Why don't you hold onto that and buy something tasty for you and your grandpa?" he asked. Henriette, seemingly understanding that Alfyn had already made up his mind, nodded hesitantly and returned the leaves to her pocket as he walked towards the door. "I'll be back to check in on him, okay? Be careful until then." 

Alfyn was out of the house not long afterwards, his smile still simple and perfect on his asymmetrical features. He let out a sigh as he stared down at his feet, and he began to follow the familiar path up to the most bittersweet part of the town. Clearbrook was a small and simple place with the entire town taking up a full perimeter of less than a mile. Alfyn was headed back to the far corner of the village to visit the one person who he knew he would be able to count on above all else. 

The cemetery of Clearbrook was as peaceful as it was tragic. There were a few stone markings set out here and there, each with flowers springing up in front of them. Offerings were left from time to time, but nature itself was starting to thank the fallen souls for their lives with the gentle blossoms. Alfyn's destination was the grave at the back of the graveyard, and he stood over the stone in a way that cast it completely in his shadow despite the overhead sunshine radiating peace and perfection onto the realm of Orsterra below. 

The people of Orsterra counted on apothecaries to heal sicknesses with medicine in its infancy. Clerics and healing magic were helpful, yes, but there was only so much that white magic was capable of doing in terms of illnesses. Healing magic could restore physical wounds to a state of serenity, but sicknesses were a different story, and that was where people like Alfyn came in. The people of the continent relied on apothecaries such as Alfyn to ensure that illnesses were cured and kept under control, but there were some sicknesses that apothecaries had failed to cure, leaving the bitter taste of tragedy on the lips of those resilient enough to brave the profession. 

"Mama..." Alfyn whispered as he looked down at the grave. The name written upon the stone, Elena Greengrass, was a familiar one to him in a thousand different ways. It was the title that belonged to the kindest woman that Alfyn had ever known, but it was also the name of someone who had been laid to rest for the final time after sickness laid claim to her beautiful life. 

Alfyn's smile was bittersweet and bright as he continued. "Did you see me, Ma? I whipped up an antitussive elixir like you wouldn't believe!" he exclaimed. His smile could only last for so long though, and it started to slip away soon afterwards. One of his first rules as an apothecary was to never stop smiling until everything was over. As long as there was hope and a beat in his heart, there was a reason to be happy. Even so, the brightest of masks still cast shadows when given the chance to set aside their initial appearances, leaving behind something somber in Alfyn's eyes that he knew would never be erased. "Can't believe it's been a year already... Am I any closer to being the man I want to be? The man he was..."

Alfyn had never known his father. Elena was the only parental figure that had ever existed in his childhood. Alfyn had asked about him a few times, and Elena had just shaken her head and smiled sadly, saying that Alfyn was the only family that she would ever need. Over the years, Alfyn came to be satisfied with that response as well, knowing that no dreamed illusion of a father would ever be able to stand up to the incredible role model that Elena had become for him. Instead of a father figure, Alfyn wound up looking in the direction of someone else, leaving another set of footsteps for him to chase with an eager apothecary's smile on his face. 

"Alf! I've been looking all over for you!"

Alfyn's tragically-twisted nostalgia was cut off by the sound of a voice over his shoulder, and he turned to see a familiar face dashing in his direction. Zeph had been Alfyn's friend for as long as either one of them could remember. Zeph's brown hair was darker than Alfyn's and had always been neater than his, falling short and clean around his features. He wore the same color of bright green on his jacket, and a similar satchel to Alfyn's hung from his shoulder. 

Alfyn smiled instinctively when he realized that he wasn't alone. It was impossible to say if he was responding on gut reactions or if his relief to see Zeph truly had outmatched his internal workings for the moment. "Heya, Zeph. Done for the day?" Alfyn asked casually. 

Zeph nodded with a light smile. "Yes. Only two patients today. Having you around sure eases the burden," he replied. Everything about him was a muted sort of brightness, like the light of day was being viewed through a pristine pane of pale glass. Alfyn had come to find beauty in such things, though he wasn't entirely sure when such a thing had happened. Zeph was quiet and contemplative for a moment before he continued. "If only I could convince you to quit giving out discounts..."

Alfyn took a step back as his hands came up defensively. "Aw, c'mon," he said gently. He was used to having this conversation with Zeph for better or worse. "The poor gal has enough trouble looking after old Alek. I can't very well take what little she has."

Zeph walked towards Alfyn and started to laugh, that muted brightness coming back in its full splendor. "I'm just teasing," he assured his friend. "You know that's what I like about you. If the villagers are healthy and happy, that's more than good enough for me."

"Couldn't have said it better myself," Alfyn agreed with a nod and a chuckle of his own. 

"We may be new to this, but between the two of us, this village is in good hands," Zeph continued, his eyes shining as he looked out at the horizon and all of the watery trees that lined the Riverlands beyond the confines of Clearbrook and its graveyard. 

"Sure is," Alfyn said. "Plagues? Epidemics? Bring your worst!" He reached into his satchel as a way of contributing to the image of fearlessness further. 

Zeph laughed once again before his expression sobered. "I'm counting on you, Alf. We all are. Who'd have thought that little troublemaker would turn out to be a top-notch apothecary, eh?" he asked, nudging Alfyn in the side with his elbow. 

Alfyn snorted before dropping his natural country accent for something that he assumed to be prim and proper--not that he would know for sure given that he had spent his entire life in the small towns of the Riverlands. "We can't all be born with a silver pestle in hand, Master Zeph," he declared. The two laughed briefly, but the silence came down heavy onto them not long afterwards. 

Zeph looked in the direction of the nearby grave, realizing what Alfyn had been doing prior to his arrival. Alfyn only ever seemed to come down to the cemetery for one reason, but the confirmation still pushed Zeph in the direction of sentimental. "Your mother would be proud," he murmured, the words a sincere promise that neither one of them would ever dream of defying even in their darkest hour. 

Alfyn's smile had grown smaller, but it was still present as he glanced down to the writing on the gravestone at his feet. "Maybe..." he said softly, uncertain as to how else he was meant to respond for the time being. 

Neither one of them said anything for a long time, just choosing to stare down at the gravestone instead. When the silence was broken though, it was because Zeph took a step back in the direction of the rest of the town. "Anyway... I should get back to Nina," Zeph told him. That was the official excuse, but anyone at all familiar with their dynamic would know that Zeph was just trying to give Alfyn a bit of privacy with his own thoughts. Nobody would have expected Alfyn to be the sentimental and somber type beneath his exterior of bright smiles and guarantees of sunshine, but Zeph knew him better than that, and Alfyn appreciated it more than words could ever hope to articulate. 

Alfyn scoffed and shook his head. "Yeah, beat it. Head on home, big brother," he instructed his friend. The sentiment of Zeph's words was understood clear as could be, and Alfyn resisted the urge to glance back in the direction of the grave that marked his mother's final resting place. Nina was Zeph's everything the same way that Elena and Alfyn had been one another's primary tether to cling to for so many years. It was bittersweet that tragedy had visited Clearbrook in such a way after all that they had survived--including the brushes with fear that came with the war that always barely seemed to miss their little home--but there was no way to change it. After all, that was the past, and this was the present. 

Zeph seemed to know that the present moment mattered as well, and he began his retreat back to Clearbrook. He didn't even manage to get five steps away when he stopped, leaving both him and Alfyn facing opposite directions in favor of their differing endeavors. "Hey, Alfyn?" Zeph asked, his voice so soft that it seemed less like a question and more like a desperate prayer. "I know you better than anyone, so be honest... You're keeping something from me, aren't you?"

Alfyn wished that he could restrict the way that his shoulders went tight with tension at those words. Of course Zeph would be able to pick him apart the way that no other person could. After all, he and Zeph had been friends for as long as either one of them could remember. Their youths had been spent together, stumbling through the grasses of Clearbrook with symmetrical laughs on their lips. If anyone was going to be able to pull apart the mask that Alfyn had constructed over the years, it was going to be Zeph. 

Alfyn was silent, and his lack of a response was more than enough of a response for Zeph. "I'm right, aren't I? Alf, the truth is--" he began to say, his voice starting to edge on confrontational as it rose in volume subtly. 

"Master Zeph!"

Unfortunately for Zeph (and perhaps luckily for Alfyn), the end of the sentence never arrived. Both of them were left to turn around in shock as a figure ran up the stone stairs to the entrance of the cemetery. It was one of the villagers of Clearbrook, someone that both Alfyn and Zeph were loosely acquainted with due to their years of occupancy in the town. There was panic written across the man's face, and Alfyn felt his stomach start to drop, knowing that this was the precursor to dreadful news. 

"Master Zeph, you must come quickly!" the man cried out. "It's... It's your sister!" He ran back down the stairs after the fact, leaving Zeph and Alfyn to trail in his path. 

The dash back to Zeph and Nina's house was a blur to Alfyn, as if the world existed on the other side of a wall of water that Alfyn had no way of penetrating. The villager left them behind as soon as they arrived at the home in question, and Zeph dashed to the side of his sister, his hands grasped tightly into fists. 

Nina was clearly Zeph's younger sister, and their resemblance was as clear as day. Her hair was the same brown that his was, and her dark eyes had fallen shut despite their normal relevance to Zeph's appearance. Nina's breathing was labored, her skin having lost its lively shine under the influence of whatever it was that had hurt her in the first place. She was sound asleep, but everything about her seemed tense regardless, as if she was on the verge of falling apart if someone even dared to look at her in the wrong way. 

Zeph was deadly silent as he looked down at Nina. His eyes were locked on her arm, and when he spoke, his voice was shaky and difficult to make out. "These look like bite marks," he remarked to no one in particular. "Alfyn, could you take a look as well?"

"You got it, buddy," Alfyn told him, doing his best to keep his voice as even as possible to ensure that Zeph didn't spiral into further bouts of panic. Zeph was barely keeping himself together as it was, and the last thing Alfyn wanted to do was contribute to such terrors. He crossed the room and looked down at Nina, examining everything that he thought could be of note before speaking and glancing to Zeph. "She's fallen into a deep trance. This is worse than we thought."

"Indeed..." Zeph murmured, his voice haggard and empty. "Nina's the only family I have. If I lost her, I'd..." He lapsed into a petrified silence, too afraid of the possibility to even voice it. Alfyn remained thoughtful and quiet beside him. 

"I wish she could tell us what happened..." Alfyn whispered absentmindedly even though he knew that such a possibility was not meant to be. Nina wasn't going to be rousing from her slumber anytime soon. He could see that clearly, and he knew that Zeph could too. 

"It's safe to say she was bitten by something poisonous, but what? Without knowing the nature of the poison..." Zeph trailed off once again, staring down at the bite marks on Nina's arm. His eyes screamed that he yearned for nothing more than for the holes to close and Nina to sit up with a smile on her face as if nothing had happened in the first place. But such was a vain hope, and he knew it, prompting his expression to slip into something on the edge of grief. 

"Yeah, and the wrong medicine could make things worse, and quick," Alfyn replied. He picked up Nina's wrist carefully, examining her for any traces that could lead to the perpetrator of such a horrendous act. 

Zeph was unable to keep himself together, and he let out a cry of anguish as tears started to properly form in his eyes. He had been trying to keep his grief hidden, but there was only so much pressure that he could take. "Damn it all! What foul beast did this to Nina?!" he cried out. 

Alfyn shook his head, ignoring the panicked pounding in his chest to focus on the situation at hand. Zeph was panicking and spiraling out of his normal state of mind, so it fell to Alfyn to remain calm and composed. "Let me ask around. Maybe someone saw something," he suggested. Zeph nodded vacantly, and Alfyn set Nina's arm down before walking to the door. He offered a small smile, never to break the creed of the apothecary as long as there was an audience. "She'll be alright. I promise."

As the door to the house tapped shut behind Alfyn, he let out a small sigh. He wanted nothing more than to stay by Zeph's side the whole way through, but he knew that there were other matters that required his attention first. He had to gather the necessary information about what happened to Nina. Somebody around the village had to know something, and it was up to Alfyn to figure out what it was. 

It didn't take long for Alfyn to find a figure of note. He could see a small girl standing on the edge of the riverbank, looking out over the waterway that ran past Clearbrook. He recognized her as Lily, a close friend of Nina's and another child within the town. She was as good a place to start as any, and he approached her carefully. 

"Hey there, Lily," Alfyn said conversationally, doing what he could to seem as open and approachable as possible. Lily turned to face him with a jump, her eyes wide. She looked less like a playful little girl and more like a caged animal. In other words, she was certainly hiding something. "I have to ask... Do you know anything about what happened to Nina? I see you two playing around the village a lot."

Lily shook her head frantically. "I-I don't... I don't know anything!" she cried out, her voice much too loud. She was desperately trying to convince Alfyn that this was the truth, but beyond that, she was trying to deceive herself as well. 

"She came back home with bite marks on her arm," Alfyn pressed. "You two often find yourselves going on adventures outside the village, don't you? Would your little quests have anything to do with what happened?"

When Lily once again shook her head, Alfyn crouched down to her level to try and seem as relatable and kind as he could. He liked to think that he was somewhat good with kids, and the truth behind Nina's injury was riding on him to figure out the final piece to this puzzle. "Come on now, Lily," he began. "The bite marks on Nina's leg... Are you sure you don't know where they came from?" He was once again met with silence from the young girl. "I want to help your friend, but I'm an apothecary, not a miracle worker. If I don't know what bit her, there ain't nothing I can do. You wanna help her too, right? So just tell me... Please?"

Lily nodded slowly. "Nina wanted to pick waterblooms for her brother..." she said softly, her voice still shaky and uncertain. "I wasn't so sure about it, but I went with her to that cave..." She sniffled, trying to hold back tears. "And then... This giant snake came out of the bushes and... And..." She rubbed frantically at her eyes with the heel of her hand, but holding back her tears was a fruitless effort. 

Now we're getting somewhere. Alfyn rose to his full height, feeling anxiety and adrenaline start to mix into something dreadful at the pit of his stomach. "What kind of snake? Was it black?" he asked, hearing how his voice sped up from panic. When Lily shook her head, Alfyn felt like he had been speared through the chest. "Don't tell me... Was it amber with blotches on its back?"

Lily nodded. "Y-Yes... How did you know?" she asked. She was still crying openly, but she had stopped trying to stop her tears, leaving streaks of inflamed scarlet running down either one of her cheeks. 

"The Flame take me... A blotted viper!" Alfyn hissed under his breath. He had heard of the beasts before, and he was fully aware of how dangerous their poison was. He hadn't seen one before, and he had been hoping that he never would. The snakes were some of the nastiest creatures that lived in the Riverlands, and he wished that the damn creature had chosen any other target than a small and fragile little girl. 

"I-I'm sorry... I know we're not supposed to go there," Lily said softly. "B-But Nina wanted it to be a surprise, so... So she told me to keep it a secret, and..." Her stammering stopped when she needed to rub at her face again. 

Alfyn nodded to her. "Thanks, Lily. You've told me all I needed," he assured her. He stepped forward and placed one hand on her shoulder to calm her. "You were a brave girl to bring Nina back here. Don't you worry any more about that scary snake, you hear?" Lily nodded carefully, and Alfyn took a step back. He had to get back to Zeph and explain all that he had learned. 

~~~~~

Zeph's expression had been nothing short of complete horror as Alfyn told the tale that Lily had weaved for him. "Good gods... A blotted viper?" Zeph asked, his eyes wide and his face pale. His fingers were intertwined with Nina's as he sat at her bedside. 

"A nasty critter if there ever was one. This ain't good..." Alfyn told him, keeping his voice low. He wasn't sure why he was being so quiet, but he couldn't bring himself to be any louder. 

"Time is of the essence," Zeph agreed firmly. "The poison is spreading through her veins as we speak. I must prepare an antidote with all haste. But I need to get my hands on the original venom. There's supposed to be a nest of vipers in the Cave of Rhiyo, yes?"

"Yeah, along with plenty of other nasties. Reckless ain't the half of it," Alfyn confirmed. He glanced down to Nina, and his heart clenched at the idea of Nina doing something so kind for her brother only to be hurt to such a degree. 

"I know... But what choice do I have?" Zeph questioned. He looked to his sister as well, eyes torn in a thousand different directions. "I'll leave at once. Look after Nina for me." He pushed the chair backwards away from Nina's bedside after setting the girl's hand aside gently. 

As Zeph was moving to the door, Alfyn took a step to intercept him. "Hold on, Zeph. You look after her. I'll go," he said. He took a step for the door, only stopping when he felt a hand clamp down around his wrist. 

Zeph was the culprit as expected. "Alfyn, are you mad?!" he cried out, dropping his regular affectionate nickname for his companion. "I'm responsible for Nina! I won't let you risk your life like this!" 

Alfyn shook his head, that same smile of his still spread firmly across his face. "Don't worry about me. Now go back to your sister's side," he told Zeph firmly. 

Zeph almost exploded as Alfyn continued to walk towards the door of the small home. "I swear, have you taken leave of your--"

"Zeph... Where are you...?"

The soft sound of Nina's voice cut Zeph off, and he let out a gasp before racing back to her side. "Nina!" he yelped. Immediately, he slid himself back into his chair and moved towards her. "I'm here, Nina!"

"Will you... Hold my hand...?" Nina asked, her voice soft and shaky. Zeph nodded before complying, and Nina's eyes fell shut gently once again as soon as she realized that she was safe in the company of her brother. 

Alfyn shook his head. "See, Zeph? She needs you," he told her. He started to walk towards the door, knowing that his sentiment about departure would be understood even without the need for words. 

Zeph was quiet before he smiled sadly in Alfyn's direction. "Thanks, Alf. Come back safe, you hear?" he prompted, the nickname back in full swing as if nothing had happened between them to begin with. His eyes were desperate, and Alfyn knew what he was thinking without even needing to ask. I already lost Nina today, Zeph's eyes screamed. I can't lose lose you too.

Alfyn gave him one last smile before he was out the door. "Of course," he replied, and the silence of the room returned save for the fire crackling emptily in the hearth. 

Once Alfyn was outside, he glanced around Clearbrook with a newfound sense of purpose. He knew what he had to do, and he didn't have much time to do it. Nina and Zeph were both counting on him, so he had to go towards the Cave of Rhiyo as soon as possible. There wasn't a moment to lose. 

Going as he was though wouldn't help him in the slightest though. Alfyn needed something that could be used as a weapon beyond just the satchel hanging from one shoulder. He knew how to blend a few concoctions that could be used as replacements for small magical spells, but that was all that he was aware of offensively. However, Alfyn was used to utilizing an axe to cut trees for the sake of firewood. In fact, that was mostly where his toned figure had come from despite his lack of regular combat experience. If he was going to have to fight with anything, it was going to be an axe. Beyond that, the best thing to fight a snake with had to be an axe; if he moved fast enough, he would be able to cut a few of the critters in half with the blades of his weapon of choice. 

Alfyn's gaze found the general store of Clearbrook, and his mind started to formulate a plan as to what was going to come next. He had to buy an axe, a few healing grapes and inspiriting plums, and spare materials for making concoctions that could heal and harm. The invasion of the Cave of Rhiyo wasn't going to be easy, and he had to be as ready as possible. There were herbs that could negate the effects of poison too, and he had to stock up on those as soon as possible. 

There wasn't a moment to lose, and Alfyn knew that one truth above everything else that echoed through his adrenaline-filled mind. He couldn't tell if his senses had been dulled or sharpened as a result of his own panic, but he supposed that it didn't matter. Time was of the essence, and he had so much to get done that he couldn't spend time standing around and thinking. 

Get an axe, stock up on supplies, go to the Cave of Rhiyo, get the venom, and make an antidote, Alfyn thought, treating the words as a mantra that refused to leave him behind. It sounded so simple when he phrased it that way, but he knew that it was going to be much easier said than done. So be it. Everyone is counting on me, and I'm not going to let them down. 

"To hell with the blotted viper," Alfyn muttered under his breath, and then, he was off. 

Chapter Text

Sleeping on the ground of the Riverlands was only marginally less comfortable than the beds of Sunshade's dancer dormitory, Primrose found. She had crashed nearly immediately after her night shift ended as far as guarding the group was concerned, and every little string that had been holding her together somehow came unwound. 

Her dreams had played back the events of her father's death, a pain that she was all too familiar with, but this time, Yusufa's murder accompanied such a string of events, and Primrose woke up with the taste of bile at the back of her throat. When she looked down to her hands, she could have sworn that she saw the outline of crimson. She had washed her skin a dozen times at least, but that did little to get rid of the phantom sensation that came with blood spreading across her flesh. 

Primrose had changed into a different copy of her regular red dancer's outfit, vowing that she was going to find something a bit less revealing as soon as they arrived in a new town. Sunshade scarcely had any clothing available that wasn't as sexualized as it got, and Primrose needed a break from that. Her charms were her greatest boon, but for a few moments, she wanted to be free of her scathing facade so that she could grieve for what had been lost. 

Primrose's mind was both beautifully empty and all too full as Clearbrook came into view. Tressa was the first to notice that a town had appeared on the horizon, and she let out a hopeful gasp as she gripped tightly to the straps of her bag. When she started dashing a bit faster down the path, Primrose had followed. The back of her mind screamed that she had to protect Tressa with everything she had. 

You don't want to lose anyone else. 

Clearbrook was smaller than its silhouette had made it seem, Primrose had to admit. The buildings of the town were less than two dozen in number, and the town was a sad shadow of Sunshade in terms of size. In a way though, that was refreshing to Primrose. The gentle whisper of the wind and the sway of the grass was just what she needed: a break. 

"I'm certain that we will be able to acquire camping gear here," Cyrus murmured, and Primrose nodded her agreement. Yes. Good. Keep talking. The back of her mind felt like a knot, and her job was to stay as far ahead of the tangle as possible. The second that she allowed her act to slip, the moment that her foot fell out of place, everything was going to fall apart. 

She couldn't think about the fact that Yusufa had been alive this time the day before. She couldn't think about the fact that she had murdered Helgenish and enjoyed it the whole way through. She couldn't think about the fact that she had left the dancers of Sunshade behind and undoubtedly thrown the town into disarray. All that mattered was the group of people at her side and the path that was stretching in front of her. Stillsnow awaited, and when she arrived, that surge was going to return. She was going to kill the man of the crow, and nobody was going to get in her way if they knew what was good for them. 

Tressa started to hum to herself as she walked deeper into the town. She admired the stores that sold various items, and a wide grin spread across her face when she found a store that sold weapons to its customers. "Hey, Olberic! We can get you another spear here!" she cried out, waving him over dramatically. 

Olberic nodded to himself and followed Tressa over in the direction of the store. Primrose eyed the lance that Olberic had been using throughout their past few battles. It was undoubtedly in the cut of a brigand, and Primrose had to admit that she would have likely wondered why Olberic, noble and proud, would ever stoop to the lows of wielding such a weapon had she stopped to think about it. Instead, she had been too concentrated on everything that had happened in the span of the past day. 

No. Stop. Out of the knot. Look forward like you always do. 

Primrose watched the path Tressa and Olberic were following to the store's entrance. She saw that a person was about to walk free of the door, and she let out a gasp before making to cry out that Tressa was going to run into the newcomer if she wasn't careful. 

Unfortunately, Primrose was too late, and when the door swung open, Tressa's nose collided roughly with the wood, barely managing to miss the glass. She let out a strangled yelp of surprise and took a few steps back, staggering into Olberic's waiting arms. Ophilia cried out Tressa's name and dashed closer to her before summoning the power of her healing magic. Tressa's injury was healed before it could become too severe, and Primrose let out a sigh of relief. She knew that something so minor would never come close to killing Tressa or anyone else, but the fear of grief was still firmly knotted in her stomach, and she doubted that she would be escaping it anytime soon. 

"Sorry about that!"

The person who had walked out of the store showed himself to be a tall young man wearing a green jacket. His hair was light brown and seemed to fly in every direction like the grasses of the Flatlands that Primrose loved so much. His expression was difficult to place. The smile on his face was genuine yet strained, and his eyes were filled with panic as he looked towards Tressa. "Are you alright?" he questioned, each word coming out in a hurried blur that ran towards the next set of syllables mercilessly. 

"Yeah, I'm fine," Tressa assured him with a smile. She pulled her hands away from her nose and let out a sigh upon realizing that Ophilia's magic had completely resolved the issue already. "See? All good!" 

"I'm glad to see it," the young man told her. Primrose's gaze drifted down to his hand, and she saw that there was a large axe poised between his fingers. He gave her a fleeting smile before starting to dash away towards the back end of town. 

Primrose didn't know what possessed her to speak, but she did know that she reached one hand out in his direction carefully against her regular plans of interaction. "Wait," she said. He turned towards her with that same anxious optimism riding a knife's edge in his eyes. "What are you doing?"

The young man hesitated, glancing to the back part of town before looking back to her. "There's some business I need to take care of," he replied. His voice was a country drawl that Primrose had never heard before, and she found it oddly lovely to listen to. In a way, his voice was like a balm against her rattling nerves, and that was certainly something she could appreciate. "I need to go and take care of a little critter problem in the caves near here."

"Maybe we could help you," Ophilia chimed in. Primrose realized that the cleric had been staring down at the small flickering flame of white in the lantern of hers once again. Ophilia had done that a lot the night before, though Primrose still had yet to hear the full reason as to why. Then again, nobody had explained much of anything after Primrose joined the group. Life had been to busy and hurried for anyone to have the heart to slow down and say anything that didn't revolve around sorrow and sorries for what had happened to Yusufa. 

The young man hesitated for a long moment, just watching Ophilia to see if he could glean her intentions from a simple glance. When he was unable to, he simply shrugged and kept walking. "Shucks. I can't say no to an offer like that, can I?" he asked. He gestured for the rest of the group to follow after him. Primrose paused for a beat before trailing after him. 

~~~~~

His name was Alfyn, and he was an apothecary. His duty was to infiltrate the Cave of Rhiyo to procure venom from a snake that had bitten a young child of Clearbrook. Ophilia was more than happy to help whenever she heard his tale, and the rest of the group seemed glad to tag along as well. With a tale that tragic, how could Ophilia refuse helping him? She didn't think that she had it in her. 

The only member of the group who hadn't said a word since they set out was Primrose. All throughout Alfyn's explanation and introduction as to who he was, she had been deadly quiet, staring ahead and brandishing her dagger when a frog monster came into her line of sight. Ophilia swallowed dryly when she watched Primrose slice a slug beast to pieces when it dared to stray too close to her. 

Primrose was a complicated person. That much was obvious. Ophilia didn't think that the word 'complex' had ever fit anyone more than it slipped effortlessly onto Primrose. Not much had been explained about Primrose's past, just that she was searching for this mysterious man who had wronged her in the past. Putting together the pieces was difficult with how little Ophilia had at her disposal, so she clung to what little information she did have and watched the dancer from afar. 

There was one unsettling fact about Primrose though, and Ophilia wished that she had never realized it in the first place. When Primrose was fighting back against Helgenish, there had been something in her eyes: glee. Previously, Primrose had done her best to hide the fact that she was lost and wandering by smiling with as much grace as she could muster without letting the mask slip. When she raised her blade to Helgenish though, a newfound sense of purpose blossomed in her eyes, and it was frightening how easily she was able to flip the switch into becoming merciless and brutal. 

Helgenish certainly deserved it. That was something Ophilia could say from the bottom of her heart. She hadn't seen much of the man before his death, but she didn't have to. She had seen more than enough, and the way that he had killed Yusufa was more than deserving of punishment. Still, there was just something off about the way that Primrose had handled herself when fighting back against him. She was ruthless, as if killing Helgenish was the only thing that could push her forwards. It was her sole bit of motivation, and after he died, she returned to being the same somewhat lost young woman who fumbled for a reason to press on when nobody was watching. 

The one thread that was pulling Primrose forward seemed to be the fact that she was pursuing this mysterious figure that had done so much harm to her in the past. If not for that, she would have been left to stumble through life without much rhyme or reason. Ophilia had seen the lost grief in Primrose's eyes the night before as they settled down to sleep. Primrose's back had been to the rest of the camp, but Ophilia could see the side of Primrose's face for a brief while, and that was enough. There was more than met the eye as far as this dancer was concerned, and Ophilia couldn't tell if she was looking forward to unraveling the truth or if the idea terrified her. 

Cyrus let out a small gasp. "Ophilia!" he exclaimed. The cleric snapped out of her daze and glanced around before realizing what it was that Cyrus was pointing to. One of the frog monsters of the Riverlands had come up beside her when she was lost in thought, and it was raring up for an attack with its self-made blade of nature. 

Ophilia's first instinct was to throw her arms over her head. In the back of her mind, something told her that doing such would hardly be productive in terms of defending herself, but she was unable to rise back to her full height before the beast croaked in surprise at being hit. Ophilia hesitantly opened her eyes to see that Primrose's hand was outstretched, a sign that she had cast a spell of dark magic to fend off the beast. 

Cyrus was the next to unleash an attack of ice at the frog, and Alfyn finished the monster off with a matching ice spell of his own. Ophilia realized that she hadn't yet noticed the fact that Alfyn could use ice magic. She had been too distracted with her musings about Primrose's odd behavior to snap out of her daze long enough to notice. 

Speaking of Primrose, her hand came into Ophilia's field of vision a moment later. "Are you alright?" she asked. Ophilia looked up to meet her eyes, and she saw that Primrose was bearing a small yet genuine smile. It was strange to see Primrose looking so normal after her previous bouts of terrifying behavior. Her eyes were just as lost and misunderstood as they had been before, but her smile was a step in the right direction. 

Ophilia nodded. She didn't reach out to take Primrose's hand, instead shoving her hand into her satchel haphazardly. "Y-Yes... Thank you," she said simply. Her fingers closed around the shaft of her staff, and she pulled it free of her bag. If they were going to have to deal with monster attacks, then Ophilia was going to have to be ready. She had been foolish to drop her guard in the first place. 

Primrose nodded her understanding in Ophilia's direction before starting to walk away. The cleric stared at her for another long moment, wondering if she would ever be able to decipher the mystery behind who Primrose really was. Somehow, she doubted that Primrose was just a simple dancer of the Sunlands; for one, Primrose's appearance bore more similarities to Cyrus than the other occupants of Sunshade. Her complexion was paler than most people from the sandy regions of southern Orsterra, only adding yet another mystery to the grand puzzle that Ophilia had yet to understand in the slightest. 

"Are you hurt at all?" 

Alfyn's voice snapped through Ophilia's thoughts like a quick beam of lightning, and she glanced up in his direction as soon as she realized that he had fallen into step beside her. It took her an embarrassingly long time to answer as she stared at his features. His smile was large and proud but held many small faults that she caught onto only by a stroke of luck. "N-No... I'm alright," Ophilia told him once she had finally managed to process his words. That strained edge to his falsified grin remained all the same. 

"Glad to hear it," Alfyn replied after he had given her a once over with his eyes to ensure that she was being honest. He was still wearing that same smile that he had pressed onto his face the first time that he ran into the rest of the group, saying that he was trying to help out a young child who had fallen sick and injured due to the infamous blotted viper. In fact, Alfyn had been smiling to some degree the entire time that he explained his story to the rest of the group, and in a way, it was almost unsettling. 

On the surface, there was nothing wrong with Alfyn's bright smile and endless brazen optimism. However, Ophilia couldn't help but feel as if there was a bit more to the situation than met the eye, and when she looked closer at Alfyn, she could only think about how she had seen that look a thousand times in Lianna's eyes. Her sister was nothing if not a talented performer, putting on a mask of being fine despite her internal thoughts screaming the contrary. 

Lianna was a complicated character, to say the least, and Ophilia had seen these issues up close due to her connection with the other woman. Lianna hid her true emotions behind a blanket statement of being fine, only snapping and allowing herself to fall apart when she knew that she was safe to do so. Lianna had been forced to hide her emotions in order to focus on her work within the church. Everyone was waiting for her to fulfill the purpose that was expected of her, and that same smile that Alfyn wore, so blatantly false yet somehow capable of fooling everyone, had been on her face a dozen more times than Ophilia could ever dream of counting. 

Alfyn didn't seem to notice that Ophilia was observing him so critically in the first place though, as he had gone back to humming as he lined the path to the Cave of Rhiyo with the rest of the group in tow. When a frog monster jumped out of the bushes, he was quick to slash his axe even though the damage it did was minimal. The rest of the party ambushed the creature soon afterwards, and Ophilia unleashed a blow of ice, knowing that Cyrus had mentioned on the way to Clearbrook that the frogs of the Riverlands were weak to the freezing magic. She sighed as soon as the wave of monsters that followed the frog had been vanquished. 

Ophilia still couldn't shake the idea that there was something else hiding beneath that mask of Alfyn's, like he was only smiling because it was his sole lifeline that ensured he didn't fall apart. It was almost twisted how clear it was to her that there was something wrong, and Ophilia swallowed dryly as she forced herself to stay quiet about it. She didn't want to cross any lines and make him uncomfortable, but at the same time, she wanted him to know that she was there for him. It would be a small gesture, yes, but it had always been at least a small relief to Lianna. Perhaps she was still holding tightly to the vain hope that she would be able to assist others the same way that she had helped her sister. 

"It seems like we're almost to the Cave of Rhiyo," Olberic suddenly said, and Ophilia did her best to hide her shock that someone was speaking so loudly. She wondered how many smaller conversations she had missed out on while she was distracted with her own musings about Primrose and Alfyn, but she figured that was a question best left unanswered for the sake of her own reaction to the inevitably upsetting response. 

Ophilia wondered what it was that Olberic was referring to specifically, but when she stopped walking to see that he was gesturing off to something in the distance, her question was immediately answered. At the edge of the winding path, there were a few torches stationed outside the entrance to a large cave with a mouth that led into a dungeon of complete shadow. The switch between light and dark was so stark and sudden that it almost sent a shiver running up Ophilia's spine. One instant, the ground was so perfectly illuminated and lined with emerald grass, and the next, complete darkness and shadow overtook the world. 

"I don't know how Nina and Lily were able to get so far without running into monsters..." Alfyn muttered, and Ophilia recognized those two names as belonging to the children that had sparked this journey in the first place. Nina was the one who had gotten hurt, and Lily was the one who brought her back home despite the fear seeping throughout her heart. 

"I suppose that being a smaller child would make it easier to evade the beasts..." Cyrus muttered to himself. He reached for his staff and began to hold it defensively. A moment later, Ophilia understood why, and a creature jumped free of the bushes. It moved so quickly that Ophilia barely had time to process what was happening, but the flash of Cyrus' staff spread across her field of vision. The monster, a small slug, was hit in the shell by the weapon. 

Even though the damage to the slug as a result of the staff hit was minimal, it was enough to send the creature staggering back by a small amount. From there, Alfyn's axe slashed, and Primrose followed up with her dagger. Olberic's spear pierced the beast from there, and that was the end to this next encounter. Out of the corner of her eye, Ophilia saw that Tressa had been preparing to release an arrow from her bow, but she dropped the weapon back to her side when she noticed that the monster had already been taken care of. 

It was with a grim twist of a smile that Ophilia recognized once again that Olberic hadn't yet been given the chance to replace his spear. Olberic had been in such a hurry as they left Cobbleston that he hadn't thought to buy a new lance before they left town. Sunshade had been such a suspicious and unsettling town that nobody wanted to go out on their own, not even the strongest physically among their ranks. Olberic had been too busy defending the rest of the group on their way to the inn, and their alliance with Primrose prevented any other process in terms of procuring a new weapon that did not once belong to a brigand. Their encounter with Alfyn had taken place as they were starting to enter the shop that would allow them to purchase the weapon in question, another roadblock in the process of finding a better spear. Hopefully, everything would calm down enough after they defeated the blotted viper to give them a moment to breathe. Part of her almost yearned for the days of Atlasdam and Rippletide when the journeys to take care of their target objective hadn't been quite so time sensitive and stressful. 

"We're getting closer, so we had better keep going," Alfyn announced once he was sure that the slug beast was dead. He started to go down the hill that the group was standing on top of, his axe still brandished and waiting a new fight from its place between his fingertips. It wasn't long before the rest of the group had trailed behind him. Time was still of the essence if they wanted to arrive back in time to rescue Nina from the grip of the blotted viper's poison, so they had to keep going. Ophilia prayed that they would run into fewer monsters than before throughout the remaining duration of their journey. 

The rest of the way down the hill was quiet, and Alfyn was the one who ultimately broke the silence. He let his axe fall down to his side once he was sure that there were no monsters around. "Y'know... Nina and Zeph really don't deserve all this," he muttered to himself. He didn't even entirely sure as to who it was that he was talking to. He was just saying it to anybody who was willing to listen, it seemed. 

Everyone in the group heard, and it seemed as if they all agreed with it in their own ways. Lianna didn't deserve to watch as her father fell sick on the eve of the most important journey of her life. The people of Rippletide didn't deserve to see their lives taken away by selfish pirates who would never dream of returning the kindness that they showed to all. Philip didn't deserve to face trauma at the hands of the brigands outside of Cobbleston that had taken him without hesitation. Yusufa didn't deserve to be killed because Helgenish refused to accept that people didn't live beneath his heel. The world was turning itself out to be harsh so far on this journey. 

In a way, Ophilia couldn't help but think about how Nina and Zeph were just another pair of victims in the face of the universe's cruelty. She had seen enough bloodshed and brutality to last a lifetime between her childhood in the midst of a fruitless effort of war. Afterwards, once she had become a cleric in the Church of the Sacred Flame, she healed countless injured people who had been hurt as a result of matters that were out of their control. Ophilia was all too familiar with what it meant to face hardship and still somehow come out the other side, and she detested how aware she was of the pain of others. 

She had seen a lot of suffering as a child, and even when she grew up, it seemed like every direction that she looked held someone who was struggling in their own way. Perhaps that was the reason for her empathetic nature; Ophilia had come to understand what it meant to see pain on the faces of others, and the last thing that she wanted to do was inflict it upon any other. She worked with the church because she wanted to help people. In the beginning, it had been a matter of repaying debts, but these days, she just wanted to do what she could to aid those who were struggling and unable to stay afloat on their own terms. 

That was what had gotten her into all of these situations. Even before Primrose and Alfyn explained their tales, Ophilia was able to see the quiet pain hidden in their eyes. The Ember had pushed her to finally reach out and say something to help them, but she had been aware of the fact that they were hurting long before that. She could just see it in the way that they carried themselves, and Ophilia refused to allow any person to suffer if there was something that she could do to ease their burden. It hurt her too much to even imagine, and so, she was dragged into countless escapades of adventure and danger because she was too selfless to ever imagine declining the chance to help others. 

"You're right..." Ophilia finally forced herself to say. She managed to speak around the lump that had formed in her throat, though she wasn't entirely sure when it was that the sensation had made its unfortunate arrival. "They don't deserve this. But that's why we're going to take care of this snake and get the venom needed to make the antidote. We're going to make sure that they're alright."

Alfyn nodded, a gentle smile on his face. "Thanks again for all this. I really do owe you one, huh?" he questioned. He didn't seem to be willing to accept any of their attempts to decline his offer, and when Ophilia opened her mouth to speak, he just shook his head. "If any of you need it, I'd be happy to heal you up. Just say the word, you hear?"

There was a general consensus of understanding among the group's members. Ophilia had to admit that she wished there was more that she could do for Nina. She was fully aware of the unfortunate weaknesses to healing magic. Sickness was out of her control, and poison fell under that category as well. Her white magic would do nothing to help Nina recover faster; this was something that Alfyn alone would be able to handle. 

Some dark part of her mind wondered if perhaps Alfyn would be able to do something to help out her father. Alfyn certainly seemed to know what he was doing in terms of apothecary work, and if he was able to identify the sickness, then he would be able to do something. Ophilia was uncertain as to if such a thing would even work though; Josef had certainly given up hope on seeing another day of health, and nobody even understood what it was that had gotten him so sick in the first place. No doctor was able to glean the truth from Josef's symptoms, and somehow, Ophilia knew that no matter how much she hoped he had this power, Alfyn wouldn't be able to figure it out either. He was only human, and the restrictions of being human were the reason for needing this venom in the first place. Not even the most talented apothecary was capable of working a miracle. 

Ophilia was blissfully relieved when the cave arrived in her line of sight. Alfyn stopped from his place at the front of the group, and he shoved one hand into his satchel. "Before we go in there, I need to give you all this," he declared. He earned the attention of his five companions with those words, and when he pulled his fingers free of the bag, his hand was filled with herbs. "If you act fast, then poison won't be able to hurt you as much. If you're quick enough, then you can negate its effects entirely. You should all take a few of these before we go into the cave."

As Alfyn went on to distribute the herbs, he continued to speak. "Obviously, the hope is that none of us get bitten in the first place, but this is a nice backup plan for now. I can do something to treat bites before they get too bad too," he said. "I hope you're all ready for what's waiting for us in there, because I doubt it's gonna be pretty."

Nobody backed down despite the situation at hand, and Alfyn let out a small sigh before he turned towards the cave. "Well, now that everything's been settled... Let's see what this cave has waiting for us," he declared. With that said, he walked inside. It wasn't long before the other members of the group trailed after him. Ophilia closed her eyes for a brief moment as the light of the outside shifted to the shadows of the cave. 

In the silence, she mouthed a prayer for Nina's survival. She wanted to save at least somebody. 

Chapter Text

Cyrus decided rather early on that he missed the Flatlands. 

That wasn't his way of saying that he was dissatisfied with his life traveling throughout the realm. In fact, he was more than happy with the way that he was wandering from place to place alongside the rest of the group. However, he had never left Atlasdam behind prior to this quest, instead spending the first thirty years of his life within the confines of the city's walls. There had never been a purpose for him to leave, and so, he had stayed. That meant that he was only at all accustomed to the wildlife and climate of the Flatlands, and the rest of the continent remained a mystery to him. 

Perhaps it would have been less accurate for him to say that he missed the Flatlands. In truth, it was more a matter of him suddenly coming to realize just how much he detested the snakes that laid in wait in the darkest corners of the Cave of Rhiyo. His staff never left his hand, and he was ready to flick out an ice spell at a moment's notice if one of the beasts dared to lunge in his direction. 

His hatred towards the snakes had started when one of them attempted to slither beneath the place where he was going to put his foot as part of their trek through the cave. As soon as Cyrus' foot collided with something that was most certainly not the stony ground of the humid cave, disgust began to rise up from deep inside of his body. He could have sworn that he was going to be sick before he stumbled backwards, nearly falling into Olberic along the way. Alfyn cut the snake in half with a quick slash of his axe as soon as he realized that the creature's teeth were bared in preparation for a bite. Tressa was the only one with exposed legs out of their party, so the snake would have only made contact with leather if it tried to bite into Cyrus, but he was unsettled regardless. As the snake's dead body revealed a small pool of blood that seemed almost purple in the Ember's silvery blue light, Cyrus did his best to swallow back his bile and focus on placing one foot in front of the other as they continued their journey towards the infamous blotted viper. 

In other words, Cyrus hated snakes, and he didn't think that he was ever going to change his mind. 

Ophilia was normally at least somewhat remorseful when it came to killing wildlife that lashed out on their journeys between towns. She preferred to let the monsters live and retreat when possible, but she held no such feelings of optimism towards the snakes. Instead, her lip curled up in distaste each time that one of the monsters dared to get even a bit too close to her, and from there, she reached with an explosion of light magic. She didn't want to get close enough to use her staff, not that Cyrus could blame her. He wouldn't want to risk that either. 

If there was one blessing that Cyrus was willing to give to the Cave of Rhiyo, it was the fact that the ground was mercifully dry. The Caves of Maiya had not been quite so kind, and the ground had squished underfoot the whole way there. Despite how close it was to the river, the Cave of Rhiyo was dry the whole way through, the black rocks of the cave's interior so smooth that in better lighting, one could have seen their reflection in it. 

"We should be getting closer to the end of the cave," Olberic declared after they had been inside of the confines of the cavern for a few minutes. Those simple words were music to Cyrus' ears, and he did his best to not sigh out of pure relief at the fact that they were going to be free of the cave and all of its snakes soon enough. Cyrus yearned for the simple beasts of the Flatlands all over again when he remembered where he was; at least the Flatlands' monsters, while dangerous, were not capable of inflicting statuses such as poison. 

Ophilia nodded slowly and let out a sigh. She was the only member of their group who had been given a reason to use the herbs that cured poison that Alfyn had provided. A snake had gotten in a lucky hit on her earlier in their quest through the cave, and she had immediately doubled over with pain contorting her expression. Primrose wound up throwing an arm around Ophilia's shoulders before grabbing an herb haphazardly and practically forcing Ophilia to start chewing on it. The other four members of the group focused on defeating the wave of snakes that had come their way before swatting at a few bats that called the dark cave their home. Once Ophilia was feeling better, they kept walking, but she seemed all too eager to ignore what had just happened for the sake of her own mental stability. 

"The blotted viper has just got to be at the back of the cave," Alfyn said as he took yet another careful step closer to their destination. "I can't imagine that it would jump out at us too early on. After all, it's the one running the show in this place."

"I can't believe that it gets worse than the snakes we've already seen..." Ophilia murmured with a shake of her head. She shuddered before forcing herself to concentrate once again on putting one foot in front of the other. Tressa, who was closest to the cleric's side, did what she could to make sure that Ophilia didn't lose her balance due to the sudden wave of nausea that came with remembering just what their mission was. Cyrus found himself concentrating on the way that the light of the Ember caught Olberic's battle-honed blade as a way of distracting himself. His hand curled around the edge of his cloak to ensure that it wasn't next to fall victim to a rogue beast lunging towards them. 

"We're gonna have to take care of it if we want to get back to Zeph and Nina," Alfyn told her. "I'll make sure that we get our hands on that venom one way or another. It's not going to get away with what it's done." He reached into his satchel and pulled out a small empty vial. It was clearly his planned method of collecting the venom so that it could be brewed into an antidote. 

"I can't imagine that the snake is going to be kind about letting us take its venom," Primrose frowned. She flicked her wrist stiffly, and a blast of dark magic slammed into a beast that was attempting to swing down from the top of the cave. Ophilia, Cyrus, and Tressa all released a collective sigh of relief at the revelation that the beast was a bat rather than a snake. Cyrus was left to wonder how in the world any bat could hope to live in peace with something as dreadful as the snakes. He couldn't imagine that the beasts were good neighbors, but then again, his bias was most certainly prevalent and blatant. 

"Maybe not, but I'll take it anyways," Alfyn assured her. The sheer determination in his voice did little to match the calmness of his tone. His care for Zeph and Nina was showing, and Cyrus had to admit that he appreciated it. Alfyn's dedication was boundless, and he was glad to see someone so passionate about their work. Cyrus would have been more vocal about his fondness for Alfyn's demeanor, but he was too distracted trying to not step on a rogue set of scales to even think of how to phrase his words. 

It only took another small handful of steps for the ground to suddenly give way to something that looked different from the rest of the cave. Sunshine was filtering in through cracks in the ceiling overhead, and bright blue flowers were gleaming among the gentle light. Cyrus could certainly see why these blossoms held the title of waterblooms; they were the same color as the most pristine water found in the Coastlands, and such a beauty could also be found within the Riverlands. The grass and flowers swayed gently in the wind that was coming in through the overhead segment of the cave, beckoning for all to draw nearer and see what greatness they were truly able to hold. 

"They're beautiful..." Ophilia said breathlessly. The Ember seemed to bring even more value to the flowers, and Ophilia seemed to be resisting the urge to reach down and pick a few between gloved fingers. Primrose was staring at the flowers as well, though her eyes were filled with grief and yearning rather than simple want. 

"Lookee here. A patch of waterblooms," Alfyn commented as he strutted forwards. "Then this must be the place!" He crouched down among the flowers and ran one hand through the blades of grass carefully. 

Olberic's grip on his sword tightened, and it was clear that he was remembering what Alfyn had mentioned previously. Nina had been bitten by the snake while in the patch of waterblooms, and that was why she was sick to begin with. In other words, the beast was nearby, and since Alfyn seemed to lack any hesitation, Olberic had to take up the burden for him. 

"Then... That means the snake must be around here somewhere, right?" Tressa questioned, her voice shaking slightly. She had brought her spear between her fingers, and upon closer examination, Cyrus could see the sickening color of crimson rust along the tip of the weapon. She had defeated more than a few snakes with the weapon already, and she was not afraid of being forced to repeat such an action. 

"It has to be," Cyrus murmured. He wasn't at all satisfied with the idea, so he kept his staff handy and prepared for the moment where he might need to lash out with a blast of ice magic. The past creatures that had been fought were difficult and frustrating on their own, and he couldn't imagine that the leader of this den would be much easier to deal with. In fact, the mere idea made him want to let out a few haphazard attacks just so that he didn't have to remember the awful sensation of scales beneath his boot. He was a logical person, but knowing that the snake could strike from any direction hardly did anything to help his nerves. 

"Waterblooms aren't just a pretty sight," Alfyn commented as he reached down and picked a few of the waterblooms. He examined them carefully before tucking them away into a side compartment of his satchel. "They make good bitters too. No wonder they're Zeph's favorite."

"Nina truly was sweet to come so far for the sake of her brother," Ophilia murmured with a shake of her head, and that all too familiar wave of grief passed over her eyes once again. Primrose looked away with an unreadable expression. 

Alfyn was quick to nod his agreement, and the group fell silent. The quiet didn't take long to be pierced though, and the most awful sound that Cyrus had ever heard reached his ears a moment later. 

It was a hiss. 

The noise was much louder than any of the previous snake cries had been, and Cyrus knew before he turned around that this was the beast they had been looking for. Sure enough, as he pivoted slowly on his heel to keep the snake from lashing out in fear, he saw that the very creature that Lily had described was waiting there, watching the group with vitriol clearly defined throughout its posture. It was a striking amber color with spots lining its back, and Cyrus could see venom dripping from its fangs already due to how close he was. Once again, he yearned for the simplicity of the beasts of the Flatlands. At least they weren't poisonous. However, there was no way of going back, and he knew it. 

"And if you ain't just the fella I was looking for," Alfyn commented with a casual laugh. Cyrus didn't understand how the younger man could be so cavalier about this situation, but when he glanced in Alfyn's direction, he saw the true dedication that was glazing over Alfyn's eyes. "Sorry to drop in unannounced. Say, don't suppose you could spare a nip of snakebite, could ya?"

The snake responded with another hiss, and Ophilia, Cyrus, and Tressa all took steps back. Primrose slowly and carefully reached for her dagger as Olberic primed his blade for the inevitable strike. Alfyn, on the other hand, sighed and shook his head. "Oh, no, don't get up. I'll help myself," he said, taking a small step forward. Cyrus realized why when his gaze dropped to the ground. The snake's hissing had released a small amount of venom on the ground, and while Cyrus didn't know if it would be enough to make the cure for Nina, it was certainly a start. 

As soon as Alfyn dared to stray too close though, the snake hissed yet again. Alfyn stepped backwards and shook his head a second time. "Well, shucks, if you insist," he remarked. Clearly, he was referring to the fact that the snake was intent on striking and thus providing even more venom for the cure. He pointed his axe in the snake's direction, and a playful smirk spread across his lips. "But let me give you a hand."

Everything happened quickly after that. The snake lunged forward, teeth bared threateningly. Olberic took a step in the direction of the beast, his blade flashing. The sword made contact with the side of the snake's head, sending the creature crashing back down to the ground. The noise echoed throughout the quiet of the cave, and the waterblooms beneath the snake were crushed due to the harsh nature of the landing. The blotted viper was quick to return to its normal upright position though, and it remained poised to strike at the next potential attacking point. Its snake flickered back and forth dangerously. 

A pair of other snakes appeared at the side of the blotted viper, and Cyrus observed them carefully with narrowed eyes. Their undersides were white while their backs were a dark black color. The crowns of their heads were orange to match the spots that lined their backs. They were much smaller than the blotted viper, only appearing slightly bigger than the snakes that the group had dispatched of along the way. 

"Mottled asps," Alfyn explained through gritted teeth. "They're not as dangerous as our main little friend here, but you still shouldn't mess with 'em if you can avoid it. Be careful; they've got poison in their fangs too, and you don't want to deal with that kind of damage."

"Then we'll get rid of them so that we don't have to," Primrose said simply, not bothering to mince words. She lunged towards one of the asps and struck it with her dagger. The creature screeched and reeled backwards, leaving it open for an attack from Olberic's sword. Ophilia and Cyrus were quick to follow up with attacks of their own, this time based in ice magic. Their icy blasts attacked all of the snakes instead of just the one though, dealing damage to both the second asp and the blotted viper. 

"The snake appears to be vulnerable to dark magic," Cyrus declared. Many of the snakes in the cave had been weak to ice magic, but he could tell by the posture of the blotted viper that it was a different beast entirely. He gave a brief glance over to Primrose, and she nodded in return. She was quick to show off her prowess with dark magic, and the blotted viper pulled back on instinct. 

Alfyn was the next one to rush forward, and he swung his axe towards the viper. When the two asps tried to strike at him for getting so close, he hit them as well with his blade. The blotted viper was most impacted though, and he took note of that as he retreated. He took a deep breath and let out an attack of ice magic as well, though it was far from being as powerful as Cyrus' icicles were. Alfyn's blast was much smaller, and if Cyrus had to guess, it was because Alfyn taught himself magic rather than learning it officially. 

The viper took in a breath before exhaling, and the air began to grow thick. Cyrus realized a bit too late that the snake was not only capable of biting; it could also breathe out its venom, though it was much weaker in this incarnation. It was more effective for debilitating the skills of multiple foes though, and Cyrus understood the creature's logic behind this move. 

Cyrus sent out one last blast of ice magic before shoving one hand into his bag to pull out an herb that would negate the impacts of the poison. The rest of the group was doing much the same, and as soon as Cyrus' teeth bit into the plant, he felt infinitely better. The fog that was hanging over his head began to lift right away, and relief flooded through his body. The poison that he had endured from the other snakes felt like it was nothing in comparison to what the viper was capable of distributing, and he decided that he would prefer to never go through something of that nature again. 

Once Cyrus was able to fully snap back to reality, he could see that all three of the snakes were dazed due to their collective weakness against ice magic. He gave a brief nod in the direction of Ophilia, and it didn't take long for them both to shove their palms forward, releasing two sets of icy blasts. Ophilia's attack hit them all once while Cyrus' lashed out twice.

Primrose was the next to unleash her full power, and the shadows in the area stirred before lashing out with excessive force. She followed up with a single dagger attack to the chest region of the viper, and a line of blood started to drip down despite the thickness of the beast's scales. Olberic was next after her, and he swept his sword outwards. The outline of a blade appeared around the weapon, and it struck all of the snakes that were waiting before him. Alfyn did the same with his axe, and Tressa pushed her hands out before unleashing an attack of wind magic. 

The overwhelming damage was too much for the asps to take, and after Tressa's windy strike, they both fell to the ground. From there, neither one of them moved again, and when Cyrus looked in the direction of the snakes, he was met with the familiar shade of scarlet that marked bloodshed. He forced himself to look away before his stomach showed just how much it disagreed with the fact that he was in this situation in the first place. After all, he couldn't afford to be distracted yet; the blotted viper was still waiting for him, and he had to take care of it as soon as possible. 

The blotted viper started to recover soon after Cyrus noted the fact that the mottled asps had fallen. It appeared that the snake was much more durable than one would have originally anticipated, and it wasn't going to be falling quite as easily as its companions. The blotted viper hissed at the rest of the group, and the thin line of blood from Primrose's attack continued to drip down the front of its chest. The viper's scales were tough, and since Primrose's weapon was so small, it was unable to do substantial damage despite the fact that it rattled the snake to its core at first contact. 

"I guess that a negotiation is out of the question still, huh?" Alfyn asked, his voice still the same casual drawl as ever. The snake hissed back, and Alfyn chuckled before shaking his head. "I suppose not. I had a feeling you'd say that." His gaze fell down to the deceased snakes, almost as if he was certain that the blotted viper was lashing out due to a deep desire for revenge against those who had killed its fellow snakes. 

The blotted viper lunged in Tressa's direction, but rather than biting her, it wrapped its coils around her small body. Tressa shrieked at first, but her cries fell silent when the snake tightened its grip. She attempted to shake it off, but soon afterwards, her spear fell from her grasp. The snake only started to shift its grip when Tressa's eyes fell shut due to a combination of what was likely shock and air loss. The viper was on the verge of biting at her when the blunt edge of Alfyn's axe slammed into its neck, knocking it sideways. It scrambled away from Tressa soon afterwards, and the girl crumpled to the ground. 

"Tressa!" Ophilia cried out. She took in a deep breath before exhaling, and her healing magic spread throughout the area, blanketing all of them in an immediate sensation of relief. Cyrus sighed out of gratitude, giving Tressa a nervous glance. He wished that he could do more, but it wasn't quite so easy. He had little experience with healing magic, though he wished that he had tried to learn at some point in the past. Cyrus made a mental note to ask Ophilia to teach him after the battle drew to a close so that he would never again have to feel this deep sense of helplessness. 

Alfyn was quick to jump towards Tressa, and he reached into his satchel before pulling out a small vial. He tipped it backwards after opening her lips carefully, and the liquid within the bottle started to drain not long after the fact. After all of the medicine had slipped between Tressa's lips, she let out a small grunt and started to stir. She opened her eyes carefully, though something about her still seemed exhausted. 

"Phili, look after Tressa," Alfyn told the cleric quickly. He got to his feet soon afterwards and lunged towards the snake before lashing out with yet another blow from his axe. Ophilia's eyes went wide at first, and she appeared to be shocked that he had referred to her by such a name, but she shoved it aside as soon as Tressa let out yet another clipped moan of pain. There were already bruises starting to show their warning signs across Tressa's skin, and Ophilia crouched down beside the younger girl with a fierce need for protectiveness shining in her eyes. 

Alfyn lunged towards the snake, and after dodging a quick lunge on the part of the viper, Alfyn slashed his axe at the creature's chest, widening the gash that Primrose had already created. The dancer herself was quick to follow up on his attack with a swirling blast of shadows, and Olberic used his sword next to continue damaging the snake. 

Catching on in full to the fact that they were going to destroy the snake then and there, Cyrus took a grounding breath and concentrated his energy. He shoved a plum into his mouth at the last moment when he realized that his magical energy was running low, and as soon as the regenerative rush of power surged through his veins, he released a blast of magic that soared through the air before slamming into the snake. 

The icy strike left the viper dazed as could be, and Alfyn was all too quick to shove his axe into the top of the snake's skull. The air seemed to swell with something solemn and almost terrifying. The snake let out a weak hiss of pain, its eyes as wide as could be. The cave remained tense and heavy for a long moment before the snake's body crumpled, and the creature was left bloodied and spread out against the ground. Crimson started to stain the grass below, and the waterblooms nearby were dyed with the color of blood. 

Cyrus had no way of saying for sure if the viper was dead or unconscious at first, but upon closer examination, he became confident that the snake would never be causing any trouble again. Alfyn smiled to himself, almost as if he was happy about the fact that the issue had been resolved. He pulled his axe free of the snake's head and let out a small chuckle as he reached into his bag, rubbing at the blood that had clamped itself down against the edges of his weapon. "Sorry, my hand slipped," he said apologetically. 

"Did we get it...?" Tressa asked, her syllables slurring together as a result of her exhaustion. She was still cradled in Ophilia's arms, and even though the cleric was staring at the dead snake, she refused to let go of the younger girl in her grasp. Ophilia's eyes remained wide, almost as if she was afraid that letting her guard down would prove to be a fatal mistake. 

"We did," Primrose confirmed a moment later. She walked closer to the snake, and after a moment of watching, she nodded to herself. "It's not breathing anymore, so I would say that the problem has been taken care of permanently." She slid her dagger back into its sheath, her expression poisoned with the same apathy that Cyrus had seen from her when Helgenish was killed. There was something darker and sadder to her gaze this time as well, and Cyrus felt his heart seem to shatter silently even though he didn't know how to fully describe what she was going through. 

Alfyn shoved his hand into his bag and pulled out the small vial that he had designated to hold the venom. "What's that? Take all the venom I need?" he questioned of the snake, his tone so sincere that it almost seemed mocking. He popped the cork off the top and held it up to the snake's fangs. Venom was starting to drip from the viper's teeth, and it wasn't long before the bottle had been completely filled with every drop that Alfyn would require. "Don't mind if I do."

"Can we get out of here now?" Ophilia questioned, her tone edged with anxiety and nerves. She glanced over to Tressa to make sure that the other girl was fine with standing, and the merchant nodded in her direction. Ophilia carefully rose to her feet, allowing Tressa to continue clinging to her for support. There was little difference between Tressa and Ophilia in terms of height, but that still seemed to be more than enough support for the merchant, and she gladly leaned against Ophilia without any objections. 

"Yeah," Alfyn confirmed. He put the cork back on the vial and held it up to the sunshine before examining it in the light. Once he was satisfied with his findings, he nodded to himself and reached down to pick a few more waterblooms, likely for the sake of Zeph and Nina and the unfulfilled mission of familial love. 

"Tressa needs rest immediately," Olberic remarked, his gaze dark and intense as he focused on the path back out of the cave. He had only spared one glance in Tressa's direction, but that was more than enough for him to make his decision. Luckily for him, nobody disagreed in the slightest; Tressa's condition was certainly worse than anything that could be applied to the other members of the group, and her dark bruises were only becoming more prominent as the seconds passed by. 

"Those bruises are gonna have to heal on their own. I can't do anything about 'em, I'm afraid," Alfyn said as he started to walk towards the entrance of the cave. The rest of the group followed in his footsteps, concentrating on moving as quickly as possible while still taking care to not disturb the local wildlife. 

Cyrus nodded faintly, trying not to think about everything he had learned about ecosystems during his time in Atlasdam's Royal Academy as both a teacher and a student. If the viper was dead, then that would likely send the rest of the creatures of the cave into some other type of turmoil, and Cyrus decided firmly that he didn't want to be around to see what happened when the other snakes recognized this. In fact, he would be more than happy to never set foot in another cave that even loosely reminded him of the Cave of Rhiyo. He was done with snakes, and he was done with poison. 

Alfyn had sped up in the moments while Cyrus was caught up in his caution, and when the scholar glanced up, he saw that Alfyn was starting to practically dash to the entrance of the cave, only remaining somewhat slow for the sake of allowing Ophilia to help Tressa along the pathway. In the end, Olberic wound up coming to the aid of the two girls, and he used his impressive strength to scoop Tressa into his grasp. Ophilia gave a nod of thanks to the warrior, but she still remained by his side, seemingly wondering if she could reach out and take Tressa's hand. It was impossible to say if Ophilia was seeking such more for Tressa's comfort or for her own. 

"Hold tight, Nina. I'm on my way," Alfyn murmured to himself. He let go of all ideas of pacing and started to move even faster. The rest of the group remained hot on his heels, and Cyrus' concerns of snakes were shoved to the wayside. Instead, the forefront of his mind prayed with everything that he had that Nina was still holding on. They were almost there, and everything would be fine soon enough. 

Chapter Text

"Zeph... It hurts..."

Each passing second felt like another stab to the chest for Zeph as he looked down at Nina's weakened form. She was on the verge of falling asleep, and everything about her screamed that she was sickly. Her eyes could only remain at half-mast, but she was in too much pain to even dream of fully drifting off into slumber. No matter how long Zeph sat there and held her hand, it never seemed to be enough. He had lost the words for this dreadful sensation ages ago, leaving his chest tight and his insides twisting. 

"It'll all be alright, Nina," Zeph whispered instead, gripping her hand just a little bit tighter. "Alf'll be back any moment now. He's never let us down." He had been telling Nina this ever since Alfyn departed, and it was impossible for him to say if he was repeating the words more for her sake or for his. 

"I... I know..." Nina murmured softly. She glanced in the direction of the door, a silent check for if Alfyn had arrived yet. Once again, she was met with an empty door. 

"When Father died and left the two of us alone, I didn't know what to do," Zeph admitted after a moment of heavy silence. "The truth is... I didn't think I'd be able to raise you and protect you on my own. But Alf was always there to lend a helping hand. When he told me he wanted to study together and become an apothecary himself... He gave me the strength to carry on. He's always so humble, apologizing for being a burden on me... But the truth is, I'm the one who's been relying on him this whole time. If only I could be more like him..."

When Zeph looked down at Nina, he found that she had slipped into slumber while he was talking. He smiled to himself, almost relieved that Nina hadn't heard his words. He rose to his feet after setting her hand down gently beside her body on the bed. He moved towards the door and opened it, and when he did, he was surprised to see none other than Alfyn himself. "Alfyn!" Zeph cried out. 

Alfyn was a few feet in front of the rest of the group of travelers, and the vial of venom from the viper was grasped tightly between his fingers. "Did you miss me? Sorry it took so long," Alfyn told Zeph with a conversational laugh. 

Zeph threw his arms around Alfyn a moment later. "Oh, Alfyn! Thank the gods you're safe..." he whispered into Alfyn's shoulder. Alfyn was surprised for a beat before he returned the gesture of open affection. When the two men pulled away, Alfyn pressed the vial of venom into Zeph's fingers, earning him a shocked reaction from his companion. "The venom... You really did it!"

"I trust you can take it from here, eh?" Alfyn asked with a light grin. 

"I'll get started at once!" Zeph confirmed with a nod. He started walking back toward the house a moment later. 

"Hang in there, friend," Alfyn instructed of him gently. 

Zeph nodded and walked into the house from there. The door tapped shut behind him, and Alfyn let out a sigh. He turned back towards the rest of the group, realizing belatedly that they had been watching the entire encounter. Ophilia had a gentle smile on her face from Alfyn's embrace with Zeph, but he shook it off, seemingly doing his best to not seem bothered by her silent love for his show of affection. 

"Man, I'm beat," Alfyn started. "Think I'll head home and catch a few winks." He glanced up at the afternoon sky, uncaring as to the fact that it was still technically the middle of the day. He started to walk back in the direction of his home where it was waiting for him on the other side of the bridge that ran through the center of Clearbrook. 

"Perhaps we could book a room or two at the hotel for the night," Ophilia suggested as she glanced towards the other four travelers. "I think that Tressa needs to rest after what happened during that battle. We could all use a moment to breathe, honestly."

Alfyn immediately turned around with that same sunshine smile on his face again. "There's no need. You can stay with me. I've got enough space, and after what you did for Zeph and Nina... I owe you all. If you want a place to stay, I've more than got it," he assured them. 

Ophilia looked to the rest of the group, and when she realized that they all agreed with her, she smiled and nodded. "Thank you, Alfyn. We would be happy to," she told him. 

"First, there's something that Olberic needs to do," Tressa declared, her voice surprisingly strong despite the exhaustion that was pulling at her expression. When Olberic looked down at her in curiosity, she continued. "You've been using that bandit's spear since before we left Cobbleston. I think it's time for you to finally get a replacement from the local shop."

Primrose couldn't help but laugh at Tressa's blatantly skewed concerns, and Olberic stared in shock for a long moment before he sighed and shook his head. "If you insist," he said, clearly unable to resist Tressa's charms of sweet smiles and bright optimism. 

"You can meet us back at my place," Alfyn told Olberic. He pointed across the bridge in the direction of the building that he referred to as his home so that Olberic would know where to come after he was finished at the local shop. "I'll set everything up so that we're all ready to crash for a while. No need to worry at all."

Olberic nodded and walked in the direction of the weapons shop of Clearbrook while the rest of the group followed Alfyn back to his home. He opened the door carefully and gestured for them to walk inside with his trademark smile. If one didn't know better, they would have never guessed that he had spent so much time and effort moving through a snake's den and fighting a creature with the power to take lives. His mask was so perfect in its power to convince others that it was almost unsettling, but nobody mentioned it. 

The process of setting up cots for everyone wound up taking longer than expected. Alfyn's home only held two beds, one of them for himself and the other for guests. It wasn't as if he had others over to his house often, so it went unused a majority of the time. At one point, it had belonged to his mother, but Alfyn had never been able to muscle together the will to throw it out. Instead, he kept it in case Zeph fell asleep while in the midst of his apothecary work, and he was certainly glad that he had kept it for the sake of this purpose alone. 

Tressa wound up being the one given the chance to take over the spare bed, something the group unanimously agreed on given her injuries. Tressa was more than happy to collapse onto the mattress, and she was asleep within seconds of her cheek making contact with the pillow. Despite Alfyn's offers to let someone else take his bed for the day, he wound up using it since the others were so selfless and stubborn that they almost put him to shame. Ophilia laid on the floor near Tressa's bed beside Primrose while Cyrus and Olberic wound up on Alfyn's half of the room. As soon as everything was settled, it wasn't long before the room had fallen completely silent aside from the gentle whisper of level breathing. It seems that Alfyn's exhaustion hadn't been solely his issue after all. 

~~~~~

When Alfyn's eyes next opened, night had fallen. It had been the middle of the afternoon when the incident with Nina and the viper took place, so Alfyn had slept right through dinner. At first, he didn't mind this in the slightest, but his stomach wound up rumbling gently as he let out a small huff of a sigh. He was tempted to roll over and return to sleep, but his worry for Zeph and Nina wound up pushing him to his feet. Before he knew it, he was out the door, leaving the rest of the group asleep in his home. 

Alfyn was halfway to Zeph and Nina's home when he stopped, instead leaning over the edge of the stone bridge that passed through the center of Clearbrook. He was torn between wanting to check on the siblings and knowing that they were going to be fine, and in the end, he decided to stay where he was. He looked out over the river below, moonlight kissing his features. 

Alfyn had been trying for years to improve his skills as an apothecary. He had been trying for so many years to follow in the footsteps of the one person who he had idolized ever since he was young. A nameless apothecary had passed through town and saved his life, and Alfyn would never be able to forget the kindness that man had shown him. Still, despite his attempts to find a place in the world, to follow in the path that he had yearned for all those years, he felt like he was still far from his goal. It seemed as if he couldn't reach what he was looking for no matter how hard he tried or how much he pushed. 

Alfyn glanced around the rest of Clearbrook and let out a chuckle. It wouldn't take much for this small town, so little that some maps glossed over it entirely, to be blown right off the face of Orsterra. It was a small community that had nursed Alfyn to adulthood, and he loved everything that the town had done for him. Despite this, he couldn't help yearning for something more. He was grateful for all that people like Gertas, Alek, Meryl, and Henriette had done for him over the years, but something deep down knew that his internal compass was pointing elsewhere. 

As he thought his way through the habits of his neighbors (Gertas' grouchiness, Alek's cough, Meryl's occasional emotional struggles, and Henriette's selflessness), Alfyn was left to wonder if he was making up excuses to stay when he knew that he wanted to leave. The greatest and most important excuse of all was Zeph, the one who had been there for Alfyn through thick and thin. They had relied on one another no matter what the world threw at them, bearing it all with a smile. What would he do without Zeph? What would Zeph do without him? They needed each other. 

Alfyn was being ridiculous. Of course he had to stay in Clearbrook. Zeph and Nina had proven that they needed him just earlier that day. Alfyn had been considering this for a while, albeit silently and out of the view of others. Zeph was starting to pick up on something being amiss, but Alfyn was going to shove it back. After all, he couldn't just leave. Everyone was counting on him, and in a way, he was counting on sleepy old Clearbrook too. 

"I better go see how Zeph is holding up," Alfyn muttered, breaking his vow of silence as he moved toward the familiar home of Zeph and Nina.  The walk there was mercifully short, offering the chance for his thoughts to find themselves drawing to a close. He needed to stop thinking about leaving when staying was his only option.

Alfyn was ultimately interrupted just before he could approach the door. Zeph came out of the house, an adrenaline-laced smile spread across his lips. "Alf!" he cried out. "The Flame take me, it worked! Nina's feeling better by the hour!"

"I knew it," Alfyn replied with a smile and a laugh that covered up his previous musings effortlessly. After all, letting the mask slip would break his apothecary's creed, and who was he to allow that to happen? "With you on the job, was there ever any doubt?"

Zeph's hands slipped between Alfyn's fingers, and his smile spread even wider if that was somehow possible. "Thank you, Alfyn. For everything," he said, his voice still edging on that overwhelming exhaustion that had been fueling him in the afternoon. The near brush with grief and death had been too much for him, it seemed, and coming down from that emotional high was much easier said than done. "You... You saved my sister's life. How can I ever repay you?"

Alfyn just shook his head with that same sunshine smile as ever. "Don't even mention it," he replied. "I helped out someone in a bind. Simple as that."

Zeph immediately perked up, his expression pained with shock. "Those words..." Zeph murmured. He took a small step away, his eyes falling shut in gentle reminiscence. "I remember... When we were still small, and the Great Pestilence came... Father could cure every disease known to man, but for the first time, he was at a loss. Then one day, a traveler came to town bearing an elixir the likes of which we'd never seen..."

Alfyn could still remember the day well. After all, he was the one who had wound up on the receiving end of the apothecary's medication so many years prior...

~~~~~

Alfyn could still remember the immediate relief that had come when he drank the elixir that the traveler provided. He had been sick for weeks, unable to escape the grasp of the illness that had taken him. He had been bedridden, and everyone was preparing to say their goodbyes as Alfyn watched the one future that he had fade away. The elixir had been the first source of light for him in ages, and he finally began to feel as if maybe everything would be alright. 

"Aye, this'll do it," the man had said, his voice soothing and low with cracks at the edges. He was on the older side with kind eyes that assured Alfyn that he was going to survive. He got to his feet, his cloak coming in around him and shrouding his body in the same mysterious aura that he himself endlessly possessed. 

"Thanks, Mister," Alfyn replied, his eyes wide with surprise. His temperature, which had been almost impossibly high for weeks, was finally starting to drop. His mother's eyes were filled with tears, and Zeph was watching with a surprise that no words could ever hope to capture. "But... Why'd you save me? We ain't got no money, you know." All of the leaves that had existed in the Greengrass home had been spent away as Alfyn's mother desperately tried to find a doctor that could cure her son of his malady. His life was priceless, she had said, but the hopelessness in her gaze had persisted even so as she tried her best to ration what little they had left for just a while longer. 

The old man just shook his head and crouched down to Alfyn's side, making sure that the young boy could meet his masked gaze. "Listen, son... And listen well. I saw someone in a bind, and I helped him out. Simple as that." His eyes were so troubled and dark while being filled with such light that it was almost overwhelming. 

All Alfyn could do was stare. "Shucks," he finally managed to say. "I hope I can do that too someday."

~~~~~

That moment had changed the course of Alfyn's life forever. It was the exact second where he decided that he wanted to be an apothecary. As he thought back to it, Alfyn felt as if he could still remember everything that he had seen and felt with such vivid clarity that it was like he had been transported to that time once again. All too quickly though, the magic faded, and Alfyn was left with the residual doubt of the present and the whisper of the wind against his cheeks. 

"Ever since that day, you've worked your damndest to become just like your hero," Zeph said, dispelling the memory in full as he spoke. "To help people out, just like he did." His smile was full of something that looked like reminiscence. 

"Oh, um... Is that how it went?" Alfyn questioned. It had been meant as a joke, a way of lightening up the tension, but in the end, he did a pathetic job of hiding his thoughts. His smile started to droop slightly at the edges when he saw that Zeph hadn't found the taunt to be at all entertaining. 

"Alfyn," Zeph began. He looked over and met his friend's eyes perfectly. "We've been together forever now. So I can tell... You want to leave this place, don't you? You want to travel the world and help as many people as you can... Just like him."

Alfyn was stunned silent for a long moment, and all he could do was let out a humorless chuckle under his breath after the fact. "You knew," he stated bluntly. It was a matter of fact that neither one of them could change. Zeph had known for a while; he was just taking this chance to make his awareness known. 

Zeph nodded. "I'm not daft, you know." He turned his attention to the river, pressing his forearms against the stone that guarded people from spilling over the side of the bridge of Clearbrook. 

Alfyn followed suit, and his eyes took on a darker quality that contrasted with his small, uncertain smile. "But still, this is my home. I know you're a skilled apothecary, Zeph. At least as good as--no, probably even a little better than me. But I can't leave you to look after the whole village on your own. Besides, who else would cut your ego down to size?" Alfyn questioned, and his laugh pierced the warm nighttime air. Excuses, the back of his mind whispered, and Alfyn pretended that he didn't think it was true. "Who'll listen to Gertas' grumblings? And Meryl's tales of unrequited love?"

"I will! I'll do it all!" Zeph exclaimed with much more explosive passion than Alfyn anticipated. "Don't you worry about anything. I'll see that the villagers are happy and healthy. I swear it on my life. So go out and see the realm, Alf. Do it with your heart at ease and your head held high. You've got those new friends of yours, don't you? Follow wherever your path may take you. I know you'll do us all proud."

Alfyn stared at Zeph in muted shock, unable to find the words that would even come close to capturing his emotions. Instead, he just smiled and said the same thing that he had the last time his internalized sense of self had overwhelmed him. "Shucks."

~~~~~

The rest of the group was off getting ready to start the next phase of their travels when Alfyn made his way to the back part of Clearbrook. He had informed them of his plans as soon as they were all awake, and he was met with smiles of varying shapes and sizes that welcomed him to the team. Ophilia suggested that he pack his things, and Alfyn immediately got started. Everyone else was off buying extra supplies and eating breakfast before their long day of travel ahead. Primrose specifically had decided to buy a new outfit that suited long term travel better than her old dancing clothes from Sunshade, desperate to abandon the fabric and its corresponding jewels in her past as soon as possible. Instead, she wound up settling on a red and white outfit that covered her far better than her short shirt and revealing skirt ever had. Alfyn heard that they were purchasing camping gear as well, and he found himself throwing his own supplies together to fit such a purpose as well. 

It was only after everything had been taken care of that Alfyn walked to the cemetery of Clearbrook. He was gripping tightly at the strap of his satchel, almost as if it was the only lifeline that he knew how to hold onto anymore. He faced his mother's grave with a smile, a bittersweet thing that consumed him so completely that he didn't know what to do with himself. "Guess what, Ma? I'm going on a journey!" Alfyn exclaimed. "Time to see just how far my talents will go! I'm gonna save folks the world over just like the man who saved me!"

Alfyn found himself struggling to hold his tongue on the matter of the people that he was traveling with. Everyone was waiting for him, so he couldn't dawdle for long, but there was so much that he wanted to say in spite of these known limitations. Even after spending so little time with them, Alfyn found that he had fallen a little bit in love with all five members of the group without even realizing it. Then again, that was something that he had always done; he fell in love with every person that the met. Alfyn gave a piece of his heart to everyone that he cared about because there was so much care inside of him that he didn't know what to do half the time. He knew that it made him happy though, and he knew that this group was going to make him happy too. 

Alfyn gave another smile down to the grave as he bit his tongue, and he found that tears were welling up in his eyes. He couldn't cry yet, but he was glad for the tears; they were a sign that he was still standing, and that was something he could appreciate. "Keep an eye on me, would ya?" he asked of the grave, knowing the answer that his mother was providing from her place beyond the land of the living. 

Alfyn had turned on his heel and was about to leave the graveyard when he heard a familiar voice crying his name. "Alf!" Zeph exclaimed. He dashed up the steps to the main part of the graveyard, heavy gasps escaping his lips. "Thank the gods you're still here!"

Alfyn shook his head, still smiling all the way. He pretended that the tears in his eyes weren't dangerously close to falling at the sign of care from his best friend. "Come on, Zeph. I didn't ask for a going-away party," he reminded his friend. Alfyn didn't think that he would be able to handle something like that in the first place; all of the people that he had grown up with were excuses to leave and excuses to stay at the same time, and Alfyn, overemotional as he was, didn't know how to bear something of that nature. 

Zeph was the next one to shake his head. "It's just a little present for the road. It's nothing special, but..." He pressed a pile of sturdy fabric into Alfyn's hands. "I want you to take my satchel. That way, no matter how far you travel, I'll be right there with you." His eyes were so overwhelmingly sincere that it made the tears in Alfyn's eyes and heart want to fall for real this time. 

Alfyn stared down at the pile of cloth before he let out a small laugh, using the sound to cover for the emotion that was starting to cloud both his mind and his vision. "Wow. You weren't kidding when you said it's nothing special," he teased. 

"It was the only thing that came to me," Zeph said, his eyes falling onto the ground in a somewhat vulnerable state. He was clearly fumbling for more words but didn't know how to find them. 

Alfyn closed the distance between them quickly, and he placed one hand on his friend's shoulder, all of the teasing from before melting away. "Thanks, Zeph. I'll take good care of it," he assured his companion. He crouched onto the ground and began to empty out his bag, transferring everything that he had gathered into the satchel that Zeph had provided. Once his own satchel was devoid of his belongings, he rose back to his feet. "Here. Why don't you hold onto mine too?"

Zeph's expression spread into a wide smile. "Now there's a plan! I'll put it to good use, Alf," he assured his friend as if there was ever a doubt in the first place. The two stood in the silence for a while, just enjoying the presence of one another for a few more fleeting moments. 

But like every moment that had come before this, it had to draw to an end eventually. Alfyn pressed his signature smile onto his face and started to walk toward the stairs that would lead to the rest of the Clearbrook, and by extension, to the rest of his life. "Alrighty then," he began simply. "See you around."

Zeph nodded even though he knew that Alfyn couldn't see the motion. "Be safe out there, friend," he said, his voice as soft as it was kind. 

Alfyn started to walk down the stairs after that, and from there, it was all too easy for him to navigate his way to the front of the town. The rest of the group was ready and waiting for him, and Alfyn couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with something new and warm at the center of his chest. He was leaving behind Clearbrook, yes, but he was off to start something new, and he had a gut instinct that it was all going to be fine. One day, he would come back home, and the tales that he would have to share would certainly make it clear that the journey was worth it. 

Tressa was doing much better than she had been the day before, and while there were notable bruises on her arms where her skin was exposed to the morning sun, she didn't seem to mind. She had a bright smile on her face as if nothing was going to stop her, and such a mindset was echoed by Ophilia as well. Cyrus was flicking through a small book that he seemed to be using to track their progress up to that point while Olberic was putting away a cloth that he had been using to clean his blade prior to Alfyn's arrival. Primrose remained distant and difficult to read, but Alfyn didn't bother asking much from her in the first place. After all, he would have more than enough time to know what was going on inside her head as their journey continued to the rest of the continent and perhaps even something that was awaiting them beyond those borders. 

"So... Are we all ready to go?" Tressa questioned. Her fingers were curled around the straps of her bag, and she was rocking back and forth between her heels and toes as if she had so much excess energy that she hardly knew what to do for herself. It was a step away from what Alfyn had seen from her after she woke up from the snake attack the day before, and it was a relief to know that she was back to her chipper self so soon after what had taken place. 

"Yeah," was all Alfyn said in response to her inquiry. With that cue having been given, Ophilia started to walk away from Clearbrook, and the rest of the team trailed after her. The sound of the Ember in its Lanthorn colliding with Ophilia's hip graced the air alongside the gentle whisper of the Riverlands wind. 

Alfyn was the only member of the group to remain for a while longer, and he hesitated for a few beats as he looked back over the only home that he had ever known. He smiled to himself, utilizing the same grin that the people of Clearbrook had taught him to display in the first place. What he was doing next was for them just as much as it was for him whether they chose to acknowledge it or not. 

"Be safe out there, friend," Alfyn whispered to his childhood home. He gave it one curt wave before he turned on his heel, the ponytail above the base of his neck bobbing as he walked away from the past and toward the future. This was the start of something new in the same way that it was the closing of the only chapter that he had ever truly understood. 

It was only as Alfyn began his journey and started moving through the Riverlands that eventually transitioned into the Cliftlands that he allowed himself to think about what he would have said to his mother's grave had he been given the chance and the time to do so. He would have told her about how Ophilia was so kind in an understated way, expecting nothing from others but giving them everything simply because that was the type of person that she was. She was selfless in a way that felt perfect to witness in a deeply personal way. 

He would have told her about the way that Cyrus muttered under his breath, always trying to make the best out of a bad situation. He was pragmatic through and through, something that allowed him to push through all manner of hardships. 

He would have told her about the way that Tressa's optimism never ceased, and her passion for her creed was something that no person could ever dare to parallel. She was one of the purest hearts that Alfyn had ever met, and he wouldn't have it any other way. 

He would have told her about the way that Olberic yearned to protect all of them even though he hadn't known them for very long. He was the defender, searching for purpose even though inklings of it could be found in this ragtag group of travelers. 

He would have told her about the way that Primrose held more secrets than she wanted to let on at a first glance. She was stoic and detached, but beyond that, there was a sense of care and struggling closeness that she wanted to foster more than anything. 

But Alfyn knew that this was just the beginning. There would be more for him to tell his mother soon enough, and there would be more for him to learn and see about both the world at large and the people who lived within it. 

Chapter Text

Bolderfall was the largest town in its general area, a bustling home of activity from all types of people. The tavern of the multi-layered Cliftlands city reflected this, and people were constantly talking and engaging in whatever business it was that had brought them to such a location in the first place. It was easy to slip through the town undetected, and luckily for Therion, that was just what he was hoping for. 

Therion's clothing was purple and caught somewhere between elaborate and understated, ripped apart in some places and all too neat in others. His white hair fell over one eye, casting half of his face in ominous shadow. His visible eye was a green color, both too bright and oddly dull at the same time. All eyes at the tavern glossed over him because people were unaware of who he was, and that was part of his reason in coming to the town in the first place. 

He had been to Bolderfall more than a few times, enough to the point that when he approached the barkeep waiting behind the counter at the back wall of the tavern, he barely had to speak to get his point across. "The usual," Therion said simply as he slid into the one available seat at the bar. He was surrounded by people on either side, and while that was far from ideal, it wasn't as if he had a choice in the matter. Off to his left, there was a pair of people that were chattering with one another to the point of forgetting that the rest of the world was there. Therion resisted the urge to roll his eyes until they fell free of his skull. 

The barkeep simply nodded in response and got to work. He popped the cork off of a bottle and poured the mead out into a cup before setting it down. He put the cap back on the bottle and slid it back into its position on the countertop. From there, all he had to do was pass it across the counter to where Therion was waiting. "As ye like it," the barkeep said simply, his voice laced with a notable Cliftlands common accent. 

Therion lifted the glass to his lips, closing his eyes as he did so. One good thing about a busy tavern was that it made it easy to find out more about the rest of the world. All one had to do was just listen, and from there, it would be just a matter of time before something interesting surfaced among the cacophony. Information shared by accident fueled Therion's work, and listening was the most important thing that someone like him could do. 

Unfortunately, the words that reached his ears did not tell of anything interesting. The obnoxious pair of men off to his left hadn't learned what tavern courtesy was, and they didn't seem to care in the slightest that they were being almost obnoxiously loud in fueling their own conversation. "I 'eard that thief's at it again," one of them, the one closer to Therion, told his companion. He took a mighty swig of his own drink before setting the mug back down on the bar. 

Therion could tell immediately that this man was a thief himself, and he pretended that he wasn't smirking as he took another drink from his glass. The companion of the thief responded as he did so. "Really? What's he done this time?" he asked, his strong accent only barely contested in power by the heavy drawl of his companion. 

"Lifted everythin' off a merchant leavin' the goldsmithy," the first man responded. "Guess he didn't get his fill at that fancy manor the other day. Still can't believe he made it past all those guards. I'm sure the more the better for 'im."

Therion just presented yet another thin smile into his glass. The guards at that manor could hardly be called such, instead seeming more like harmless decorations or mannequins of some kind. Then again, he supposed that when a thief had as much skill as he did, it was easy to breeze through whatever challenges presented themselves. Therion's many years of stealing had paid off, and he could do as he so pleased anywhere in Orsterra. There were few places that were able to escape his sticky fingers, and he wouldn't have had it any other way. 

After all, Therion had to look after himself above all else. That was what it meant to be a thief when push came to shove. He hadn't exactly chosen this lifestyle, but he had mastered it regardless. Everything was all too easy for him in terms of theft, though he certainly wasn't complaining. It allowed him to assert his dominance across the continent as the mysterious shadow of a thief that nobody could catch more than an empty glimpse of when he showed a rare display of carelessness. Oftentimes, it was more of him allowing people to see the traces he left behind to fuel the legends that had spread far and wide about him though. Perhaps it fueled some twisted sense of satisfaction for him, though he wasn't about to protest it. 

The second thief let out a scoff and shook his head. "Ain't no point swoonin' over someone else's work!" he declared. "Someday we'll make it as big as that thief, and then we'll be the talk of the town." He punctuated his intentions with a grand laugh. 

His companion nodded his agreement. "Yeah, you said it, partner!" he announced, curling his fingers into a fist before hitting his friend in the shoulder. The two men devolved into laughter from there, not at all caring about their loud declarations of being thieves. Then again, the tavern's occupants were too busy to bother caring in the first place, and it wasn't as if the barkeep did anything to stop them. If anything, all he did was fuel the habits of the thieves that came and went through Bolderfall's expansive borders. 

Therion took another drink of his alcohol before closing his eyes and allowing himself to retreat down into the large indigo scarf that was wrapped around his neck. 'Partners'. That certainly was a word that existed for better or worse. For Therion though, it was the gateway to memory lane, and for a brief moment, he was no longer in the Bolderfall tavern, but instead, elsewhere within Orsterra. 

~~~~~

Therion had been a thief all his life. He knew no other way of being simply because it was his sole method of survival. He had been born into the streets, and he would die there too, he was sure. Unfortunately, being a thief required experience, and for a young boy not yet of thirteen, experience was an almost impossible thing to acquire. 

He had been careless, and the guards of Saintsbridge had caught him when he slipped up and took a wrong turn while attempting to make his escape following a quick theft. One of the guards was firmly grasping Therion by his upper arm, dragging him through the underground of the city. Therion was halfway convinced that he should run, but he wouldn't be able to get away even if he wanted to. The guard was too strong for him, so he had to play along for a while longer. 

The man pulled a keyring from a hook at his hip before shoving one of the keys into a lock belonging to one of the cells. Unlike many of the other cells that they had passed up to that point, this one was occupied, and a single figure sat in the shadows at the far side of the room. As soon as the door was open, the guard pointed inside. "Oi, get in!" he exclaimed, his tone offering no room for objection or protest.

"Not even a 'please'?" Therion asked. His appearances of strength and his sharpened tongue were two weapons that contributed to his survival, and he would use them regardless of how wise it was. 

"You won't last long in here with that foul mouth, whelp," the guard scoffed, still pointing to the inside of the cell. His eyes were impatient, and to a young thief, that was a weakness to be exploited. 

"No? You seem to be doing just fine," Therion snarked in response. His prize for the comment was a slap to the face, and Therion nearly crumbled to the ground from the force of the guard's palm against his skin. One hand drifted away from his body and toward the guard's hip, and he only rose to his feet after he had found his prize and shoved it into his pocket, using the guard's anger to his advantage. He feigned seeing that he had lost, and he walked into the cell, unwilling to show even a trace of the pride that came with snatching the key to the cell.

The guard closed the cell door behind Therion, his gaze still filled with fire. "Impudent brat! You'll learn your manners the hard way, just like the rest," he said, any friendliness in his voice having melted away the second that he raised his hand against the young thief. He walked away with stormy footsteps to cope with the wound to his pride that Therion had dealt in exchange for the brutal slap to the cheek. 

Therion was still standing in front of the door, hands pressed against the bars, when the figure in the shadows started to stir. "I see you got the same warm welcome I did," the other boy told Therion, his voice a drawl that was all too cavalier to belong to a prisoner. 

Therion turned to face him. He was wearing green, and his clothing was so bright that it might as well have been made of grass. It was the boldest color in the dark and dingy gaol, something that could barely be a sign of life but was still a mark of something regardless. His hair was orange, and a scar bridged the top of his nose before extending sideways onto his cheeks. 

"And who are you?" Therion questioned, examining the other boy with all the caution in the world. He knew better than to trust someone just because they could spew a few pretty words, and this time was no exception. 

"A no-good tea leaf who got caught in the act, just like yourself," the boy replied, dancing around the matter of his name like it meant nothing to him. 

Therion took a step closer, letting out a haughty breath along the way. "Just like me, huh? Well, you look a lot worse," he remarked. Beneath his scarf, he was smirking to himself. In places like this, one had to make their own satisfaction, and this was as good a starting point as any . 

The boy let out a scoff of a laugh of his own. "Well, get used to seein' this ugly boat, 'cause I ain't gettin' prettier anytime soon. These guards think they can beat the attitude out of us," he responded simply. "And they don't go easy on no one here, least of all teapots like us."

Therion scoffed to himself. He had been imprisoned a few times in the past, and this hardly sounded like anything different from what he had seen before. "Sounds about right," he muttered to himself, voice indifferent but expectant. 

"So, ready to be a good little boy and play nice with the guards?" the boy questioned, his face contorting itself into a smile that held all the memories of learned brutality hidden in the cracks. 

"Are you?" Therion inquired in response, raising an eyebrow. He pushed some of his white hair away from his tanned face, crossing his arms after the fact. 

The boy shook his head and crossed to the door, prompting Therion to take a step back. He crouched near the door, reaching his hands through the bars to the lock."Nope. And I don't plan on stayin' here till they change me mind. See, I got me a pin here to unlock the door--"

Therion's eyes went wide as he took a step forward. "Hey, what do you think you're--" he interrupted.

"A little busy right now," the boy said dismissively. He continued using his metal pin, which appeared to have been fashioned from a stray piece of steel found in the cell, to try and unlock the door. 

Therion frowned and shoved his hand into his pocket. "Try using this instead," he told the boy. When he unfurled his fingers, the key to the cell was glittering in his palm, sitting perfectly neat and waiting to be used. 

The boy gasped before rising to his feet. "The key?! Where'd you get this?!" he exclaimed in shock, keeping his voice quiet enough that they wouldn't be detected while  still notably expressing his shock. 

Therion shrugged. "Snatched it from the guard once he was all riled up," he responded simply. It had been an easy affair, really. Some people simply didn't know when they were being played like an instrument, and luckily for Therion, he was very easily able to use this to his advantage. He had been able to tell early that the guard was a man who would grow upset easily, and all he had to do was twist that so it played into his hands. 

The redheaded boy laughed boldly. "Look at the cobblers on this one!" he shouted. He claimed the key from Therion and shoved it into the lock, easily able to open the door despite the awkward angle he was at. From there, it was simply a matter of walking out of the cell, and he discarded the keys on the floor, a small mark for the guard to find with shame when he noticed that his prisoners had escaped thanks to his own hubris. 

"Now, let's get out of here," the boy said. He smiled in Therion's direction, an uncanny crescent that spread across the lower half of his face. "The name's Darius, mate." He extended his hand in Therion's direction to shake. 

The thief in purple was all too happy to follow up on his invitation. "Therion," he introduced simply. 

"Well, Therion. Looks like you and I are officially partners in crime," Darius continued to grin. He started to walk in the direction of the exit, and Therion trailed behind him with something blossoming in his chest that felt a lot better than his pride at stealing from the guard and subsequently reclaiming his freedom ever could.

~~~~~

But a lot could change in ten years, and Therion had flown as a solo crow for quite some time. He took another swig of his drink, trying to drown the memories with something physical. Sweet memories, he thought, something bitter at the edge of his internal monologue. He wasn't sober enough to think of the past this way, and so, he slid his mug back across the counter toward the barkeep. "Fill it up."

The barkeep obliged with a simple curt nod. He didn't ask questions about why Therion had grown so distant for a time. He didn't ask questions about much of anything, as a matter of fact; he knew better than to try and infiltrate on the thoughts of thieves. "'Ere you go," he said to Therion as he slid the refilled mug back in the direction of his patron. 

Therion was quiet for a long moment after that, allowing himself to focus on the sensation of the alcohol draining down the back of his throat. It was easier to focus on the  familiar feeling than the bitter memory of what he had seen in the back of his mind. His partnership with Darius had been a beast of a different breed, and Therion chose to not acknowledge it when he had the ability to ignore it. That was the past. Partnership with someone else was the past, but Therion himself, isolated and alone, was the present. 

"Beg pardon, but would ye 'appen to be after them Ravus' treasure?" the barkeep suddenly questioned after the long silence drew to a close. He had been staring at Therion in the quiet, a light frown staining his features. "If ye are, I suggest ye think again. Heard another would-be fortune hunter was tossed in the dungeons yesterday."

Therion snorted. The whispers of treasure in the infamous Ravus manor had brought him back to Bolderfall. He had been all over Orsterra in search of a target that would challenge him, and the rumors in Bolderfall had ultimately been what caught his attention most. Of course, he would never admit it openly. Part of the life of a thief involved knowing the value of information, and Therion wasn't going to give his story to anyone that it didn't pertain to. He had made that mistake once in the past, and he had paid for it. He knew better than to make that choice again. His aloof behavior was a shield, the silent guard that kept him from being read by people who thought they would be able to break through his mask. 

"So what's the count now?" Therion questioned of the barkeep, not bothering to answer the inquiry as to if he was after the treasure or not. He took another swig of his drink to hide the lower half of his face from view. 

"A score, maybe more," the barkeep replied, his voice sounding much too casual when speaking of mass incarceration of thieves. Then again, knowing these things was part of his business; thieves frequented Bolderfall, and there was no better place to gather intel than the tavern's master himself. "But House Ravus ain't known to be kind to those who covet their wealth. Still, poor thieves can't help but flock to that manner like moths to a flame. Suppose it's all those rumors of their riches that keep 'em comin'. Some say it's enough to buy up the whole town and then some."

"Just one town?" Therion asked, raising an eyebrow curiously. "What about the neighbors?" He took yet another drink. While he would never admit it, he was glad to have the distraction to chase away bitter memories that made him want to stab his dagger into wood until there was nothing left to remember in the first place. 

"Can't say for sure. No one's ever seen the treasure," the barkeep shrugged nonchalantly. "Even that master thief they keep talkin' about would have more than his hands full."

"A perfect tale for the tavern," Therion mused to himself. He barely even cared that the master thief in question was him, yet another sign of his infamy spreading to the farthest corners of the continent. 

"Look, when ye been in the business long enough, ye can tell things at a glance," the barkeep said, his voice suddenly grounded in something peculiar. "Yer a smart and skilled long man. Probably 'ave a long career ahead of ye. That's why I'll say it once more: stay away from that manor."

"Thanks for the advice," Therion said shortly in a somewhat clipped tone. As the master thief that all of the stories spoke of, he was going to be the one to decide what was or was not worth his time. It certainly seemed as if House Ravus was going to provide just the challenge that he had been searching for. It had been a while since anything even came close to touching his skill level, and this was going to be the time that he was able to change his life permanently thanks to his sticky fingers and their related skills. No rumor would ever be able to forget about him after this, and while that hardly mattered in the grand scheme of his life, it was a small note of pride in the design of his demeanor. "Next time, I'll have a tale of my own to tell."

When Therion left the tavern, he immediately made for the staircase that would lead him to the other part of the town. Bolderfall was in part built into the side of a mountain. That was par for the course with towns of the Cliftlands region, but Bolderfall seemed to take it to a new level. The city was more vertical than horizontal, and one glance over the edge of the cliff's fence would send anyone into a nauseous spiral. 

The path to Ravus Manor was easy enough to follow. The center of Bolderfall was bustling with activity, and many people collided with one another as they went about their daily routines. In other words, it was all too easy for Therion to send his hand slipping out in the direction of others' pockets. His coin purse was at least a few leaves heavier by the time that the stairwell leading to Ravus Manor. 

The center of Bolderfall was somewhere known for its activity and buzzing atmosphere, but the one exception was the ornate stairway that led up to Ravus Manor. The other staircases of Bolderfall were worn down and made of the natural stone of the Cliftlands. However, this stairwell was something special, something that had been built specifically to show just how much money the Ravus family had to burn. Nobody went there unless they had to, knowing that House Ravus' occupants weren't going to care much for their words no matter what they had to say. The guards of the mansion were the only ones who ever bothered to come and go aside from the occasional visitor that was so rich and spoilt that it made Therion's thieving urges grow even stronger. 

Luckily for Therion, the general activity of the town meant that others were too distracted with their own lives to notice that he was scaling the path to the manor. He was easily able to approach the entrance, spotting a large and undoubtedly expensive gate that surrounded the estate. A few plants were stationed nearby, perfectly groomed just like every other thing owned by the Ravus family. It was all too easy for Therion to slink past any unsuspecting eyes and crouch down behind one of the bushes, blending in with the shadows the way that thieves ought to. 

Five guards appeared from around the back of the gate, and Therion resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Given that there were already guards stationed outside the building, it seemed like overcompensation to an excessive degree. Just as he thought that, Therion saw yet another cluster of guards appear from around the other side of the gate, and he winced silently. There had to be at least ten times as many guards as there were people living in that manor. The Ravus family was a mystery in terms of size and structure, but he knew that there was something they were hiding. There would be no reason for the excessive security if there wasn't something waiting behind that ornate gate. 

"Change posts!" the guard at the front of the second group of arrivals declared. He looked back over his men with a critical gaze and notable tension in his spine. 

"You there!" shouted another man in the group. He wasn't dressed the same way as the other guards, his armor instead seeming much more expensive and potent. If Therion had to guess, he was the captain of the guards, and the first man to speak had been overstepping his boundaries as an underling. 

The first man grew nervous upon hearing the voice of his superior, and he somehow grew even more tense as he turned around. "Yes, sir!" he exclaimed, seeming to want to take the route of pretending that nothing was wrong to begin with. 

"Stop dragging your feet! Walk with purpose!" the captain instructed. It seemed as if the first guard had not been up to his standards during his brief bout of imitation, and he was making sure that the entire captive audience was fully aware. The guard responded with a salute, and the captain continued to speak with something matter-of-fact in his gaze. "We're getting paid a fortune for this job! Do it with pride!"

The men all replied with firm nods before they started the process of changing positions. Their actions were so stiff and rehearsed that it was almost painful to watch. The group that had arrived second started to walk away from the estate with the first group replacing them. To Therion, they seemed more like soldiers in the world's most exclusive force of fighters than guards for a single manor in the Cliftlands. "It's just like an army. Just what kind of place is this?" he muttered under his breath. 

The sound of a growl earned Therion's attention next, and he perked up with a frown to investigate the source of the noise. Three dogs were standing beside one of the guards, and their movements were just as strict and rehearsed as the humans' had been. "Those guard dogs look vicious," Therion murmured. They were trained and seemed as if they wouldn't be easy to get around if they had to engage in a fight. In other words, Therion was best off avoiding them completely rather than trying to battle them. He was more than fine with that; as good as he was with a sword and dagger, stealth had always been his specialty. 

Therion's attention shifted to the top of the bush so that he was able to see the outline of the building. The manor itself was completely hidden from view, but the gates that surrounded the building were easy to spot. He winced at the sight of them. This wasn't going to be easy; the barkeeper had been right about that much. "And that's not all... The walls are lined with wire," he went on. "One false move and it'll sound an alarm, no doubt. Yep, trying to scale the walls would be more trouble than it's worth."

Therion's quiet musings were ultimately interrupted by the sound of footsteps moving toward the manor. This time, there was only a single person approaching the building rather than a cluster of guards, and the figure in question was wearing a typical merchant's garb. He raised one eyebrow in notable curiosity. "Hm? What's this now?" he asked even though he was not expecting an answer. 

The merchant approached the gate, and one of the guards standing outside the entrance glared at him. "What part of 'no visitors allowed' do you not understand?" he questioned intensely. 

"The Ravuses have more important matters to attend to than entertaining riffraff like yourself," another guard interjected from nearby. He earned a firm nod from his companion. It seemed as if this merchant had tried to come to the manor previously only for his attempts to end in disaster, and this was yet another effort to sneak through the gate. 

"It won't take long, I swear!" the merchant began, his voice pleading and edging on desperation. "I'm merely a merchant looking to--"

"A merchant, you say?" the first guard asked. The merchant responded by nodding back with blatant hope in his eyes. "Prove it."

"Prove what?!" the merchant questioned in response, his words now filled with agitation. "I came to show the lady of the house some of the finest fabrics in this realm!"

The second guard scoffed. "And we're supposed to just take you at your word?" he inquired with a shake of his head. 

The first guard walked behind the merchant, nudging the man gently with the dull handle of his spear. "If you can't show us proof, you can show yourself out," he instructed. His words offered no room for objection, and his glare was confident enough to make even the boldest of souls reconsider their attempts to enter the manor. Luckily for Therion, he was hardly like most others who would try to get onto the estate. 

"But I..." the merchant attempted to object, but his words were feeble and soft. He already knew that it was a fruitless effort, and any further attempts to fight back were conducted purely on a matter of necessity and ceremony. When the guards glared at him and poised their weapons in preparation to escort the merchant away by force, the man simply sighed. "Fine, I'll leave. I swear, the nerve of these hoity-toity types..." He gave one last yearning look in the direction of the gate before pivoting on his heel and walking back the way that he had come. 

Therion smirked to himself. It seemed as if the stars had aligned for him perfectly. He wouldn't be able to scale the walls around the manor the way that he was used to with past endeavors of theft, but there was almost an even better solution that had simply laid itself right into his lap. "Never thought the front door would be the easiest way in," he muttered to himself. "Time to get my hands on some 'proof.'"

Therion detached himself from the bush that he had been using as his hiding place with a smirk pressed against the fabric of his indigo scarf. All he had to do was find a way to convince the guards that he was a merchant so that he could get inside, and given how crafty he was, that would be easy enough. As long as he had the proof that the guards required, then he would be able to slip through the cracks without any of them being at all the wiser. By the time that they noticed what was happening, it would be too late. The master thief that everyone had come to know and fear would complete his next heist and leave his victims in the dust in the blink of an eye. The mansion wasn't going to be as impregnable as everyone had initially assumed. The treasure was within arm's reach for him, and it was just a matter of finding a way to grasp it. 

Chapter Text

After Therion left the region of the Ravus estate, he found himself back in the bustling heart of Bolderfall. He took a path that led him to a bridge that overlooked a small patch of grass, a rarity among the Cliftlands and its expanses of red and brown stone. His eyes shifted through the area in search of anything that would be able to aid him in his endeavors before his gaze fell upon a familiar outline. It was none other than the merchant that had shown him what he had to do in order to enter the manor in the first place. "Well, if it isn't our merchant friend," he muttered to himself, taking a step closer to the railing of the bridge so that he would more easily be able to see what the man was doing. 

The merchant wasn't alone, Therion noticed. There was another man with him, this one a merchant in green clothing. The familiar merchant, the one in red, shook his head with an angry huff. "Those bloody Ravuses! Don't they know some of us actually have to work for a living?!" he exclaimed in rage. 

The other merchant smiled in sad but knowing way. "Turned away at the gate? Join the club," he commented casually. 

"You too?" the merchant in red asked in shock. "But why?" His rage had calmed down and was left only with surprise in its place. 

The second merchant nodded. "They're doing it to everyone. Rumor has it they're guarding some great treasure inside," he explained. Therion had been hoping to learn something new and helpful from this conversation, but instead, he was only hearing the same old song and dance that he had learned from the barkeep.

"But I'm not after their treasure!" the familiar merchant cried in exasperation, throwing his arms into the air to prove his point. "I just wanted to show the lady of the house my wares. Then they told me I needed proof! As if this sack of silk dresses isn't proof enough!"

"Indeed. You'll need a letter of introduction to get inside," the second merchant told him. 

"A letter of what?" the first merchant questioned, his voice tinted with bitter surprise. 

The second merchant nodded. "House Ravus only does business with the most esteemed merchants and traders."

"So how can I get one of these letters?" the first merchant asked, eager impatience infecting his words. 

The second merchant shook his head. "It's not easy, that's for sure. First, you'll have to make a name for yourself here in town. Once you've proven yourself a reliable trading partner, then--and only then--will the Ravuses write you a letter," he elaborated. "That said, you could count the number of people who've earned a letter on one hand."

"Well, that sounds like an awful lot of work," the first merchant bristled. "Are you sure there's no other way?"

Therion smirked to himself from behind his scarf. He could think of another way to get inside, and it would perfectly suit his profession as the rumored master thief. All he had to do was find someone who had accomplished this difficult task, and from there, his sticky fingers would do what they did best. If merchants had to make a name for themselves in town to be accepted, then that meant that there had to be at least one of them still hanging around. They wouldn't abandon a source of trade that was so helpful unless they had to, and their attachment to the town would ultimately play right into Therion's hands. 

He left the bridge behind and set out for the lower half of Bolderfall. He could start at the tavern and try to see if he could glean any information by listening to the people there. One could learn quite a bit just by remaining silent in the right locations, after all. If there was any place that would tell him what he needed to know, it would be the tavern. 

Therion was halfway to the stairway to the lower half of town when he heard something behind him. They were footsteps, he realized, and they were remaining consistently close to him despite the crowd. He was being tailed. When he stopped, the footsteps did as well, only adding credence to his theory. Therion was able to make his way out of the thick of the activity, and once he did, he let out a small breath of impatience. "Just out of curiosity, how long do you plan on following me?" he asked, keeping his voice conversational but still somewhat dangerous. 

"So you noticed," a familiar voice stated simply, and Therion recognized him as being one of the two thieves that had been sitting next to him at the tavern. The other person was undoubtedly his partner in crime, and together, they were the source of bitter nostalgia that made Therion want to hurl, but he couldn't let them know that. 

Therion turned to face them with a small scoff. "For thieves, you aren't very discreet," he commented nonchalantly. 

"You're keener than most, friend," the second thief commented, his voice filled with a smile that reminded Therion all too much of tea leaves and something green. It was overfamiliar, and Therion wanted to step on their toes for the sake of his own satisfaction. 

"As are we. We can tell you've come for the Ravus fortune," the first thief explained. 

"If the army surroundin' the manor is any indication, it's more than worth the trouble," the second thief agreed. 

Therion eyed them cautiously, unsure as to what they were playing at but still wanting to play the scenario as carefully as possible. "And have you actually seen this treasure?" he questioned, knowing that it would be just the barbed comment to break down their defenses. 

The first thief laughed, and the sound was haughty and cocky. "We don't need to see it! Just look at what they've got guardin' it!" he declared. 

"Guards, dogs, traps--you name it, they got it," the second thief chimed in. 

"And you came all this way to warn me? How thoughtful," Therion said, his voice dripping with both sarcasm and false sincerity. That was undoubtedly just the comment that would break through the frustratingly confident masks of the two thieves, and that made it perfect for Therion to voice. After all, angry people were more likely to slip up than those that were calm. It was a lesson that he had learned long ago, and he had applied his knowledge far below the streets of Saintsbridge. 

The first thief glared at him but dulled his rage when he continued. "Look, we've got a proposal for you--"

Therion turned away and started to walk in the direction of the steps that would take him down to the tavern. "And I've got an answer: no," he responded bluntly. 

The second thief laughed before he and his companion drew nearer to Therion from behind. Beneath his cloak, Therion reached for his dagger in case this situation somehow went south. "Just hear us out, mate. We can help each other," the first thief said. 

"My partner here's been inside. He's seen the traps they've set up close," the second thief explained, emphasizing his words to make sure that Therion heard him. "Hells, he walked straight into one and set off an alarm!" 

As the second thief laughed, the his companion let out a scandalized gasp. "Shut up! You said you wouldn't tell anyone about that!" he exclaimed. Therion could hear how flustered he was and knew that his cheeks were undoubtedly being infested with the dreadful sensation of warm embarrassment. His companion shrugged, and the first thief sighed and shook his head before getting back to the situation at hand. "Anyway, I got out just fine, and we're here now. So, what do you say? It won't be easy to carry all that treasure out on your own. We're offering you a helping hand."

Therion just shook his head. "I've already got two hands. That's enough for me."

"So you think you're too good for us, is that it?!" the second thief roared as he took a step toward Therion. 

"I'm a thief, not a nanny," Therion responded simply, giving a single glance over his shoulder in the direction of the two thieves. 

The first thief shook his head, his face bright red with rage. "You're an ungrateful bastard, that's what you are!" he shouted angrily. 

"Listen, I don't have time to entertain you clowns. I have places to be," Therion continued, completely uncaring as to the glares that he was being given. 

"You're not going anywhere--" the second thief began to declare. He was clearly planning on saying more, but Therion was able to swiftly silence him by turning around as the thief rushed him. He pulled his dagger from its sheath and slashed at the palm of the thief's hand, sending the man stumbling backward with a scream on his lips. His companion looked down at his injury in shock. 

"Get out of my sight," Therion instructed, his voice deadpan and harsh. 

The first thief crouched down beside his companion. The second thief was staring at the crimson that was gushing from his palm, shock painted on his expression. The first thief threw his hands down onto the other man's shoulders. "Are you with me, mate? Speak to me!" he instructed loudly in a clear panic. 

The second thief nodded, and the two of them rose to their feet. Therion, on the other hand, could feel bitter nostalgia starting to assault him again, and despite his attempts to send the memories back to the hellhole they came from, they flooded into his mind with notable force. "Mate...?" he echoed. 

~~~~~

Over the years, Therion and Darius went many places. 

They initially met in Saintsbridge, but they didn't stay there for long. After all, they were thieves, and if they were caught out of their cells, they were bound to find trouble. They went wherever the rumors of fortune and the winds of chance took them. This time around, their destination was Riverford, a Riverlands town on the far southern border of Orsterra. It was a dark place and one of the most poorly-governed cities that Therion had ever laid eyes on. Luckily for him, that would only make his job easier. 

Even if the government was disastrous at best though, the military of Riverford remained tragically potent. A few guards of the city were rushing after Therion and Darius as they wove and dashed between passerby within the darker alleys of the town. Nobody wanted to look at them in full; that would be akin to admitting guilt as far as the soldiers were concerned. 

"Thieves!" one of the guards shouted from afar. "You won't get away!"

Therion's lungs were starting to burn when Darius turned to him, all green fabric, red hair, and unreadable smiles. "They're on to us!" he shouted. Therion knew that much; it was clear as could be if anybody paid even a hair of attention to what the guards were attempting to accomplish. 

Therion's eyes flickered around the immediate area as he tried with everything that he had to find a way out of this situation. He needed to get out as soon as possible. He refused to be locked away as he had been in the past. Luckily for him, fortune was smiling upon him on that day, and he saw a set of stairs leading down to the crowded docks. "Darius, this way!" Therion shouted. He gestured for Darius to follow him before he started his quick retreat down the steps. 

"Got it!" Darius cried out. He followed Therion down to the ledge next to the river, and when Therion pressed his body behind a barrel, Darius did as well. They had a clear view of the silhouettes of the guards from the platform overhead. They were out of sight though, and if all went well, that would be enough to save them. 

The guards paced the area for a while before one of them let out a groan of frustration. "Damn! We lost them!" he shouted in rage. 

"They can't have gone far! Let's check the back alleys!" one of the other guards shouted. When his companions agreed, they started to dash off in the direction of what they believed to be the best hiding spot. The sound of armored plates clanking together grew distant, and Therion finally allowed himself to take a deep breath after forcing his lungs into stillness during the final phases of his escape. 

The silence that followed the departure of the guards was, in a word, excruciating. Therion and Darius were quiet for a long time, almost as if they expected their pursuers to turn around and figure out where they had gone somehow. When that didn't happen, Therion gave himself the power to speak once again. "They're gone. We should be safe for now," he told Darius. 

Darius nodded. "That went better than I expected," he confessed with a light snort. 

"I wish they could've seen the looks on their faces," Therion snickered. Being removed from that situation, even if it was just by a few seconds, gave him the power to examine the situation with humor on his mind. 

Darius laughed along to show his agreement. "They deserved it for treating us like teapots," he pointed out, and Therion nodded. Speaking in terms of tea was a habit that Darius had always possessed as far as Therion was concerned. In a way, it was comforting to him to hear something so familiar after he had spent so much time running for his life over the span of their short time in Riverford. 

"We might be small, but we're smarter than they'll ever be," Therion said with a smile on his face. They were twelve years old, and yet, they were more than able to outclass the guards that always seemed to give chase when they messed up. This escapade, while close and terrifying as it was happening, was just another note of pride for them to add to their lengthy histories of successful thefts. 

"You got that right! We put our loaves together, and no one can stop us!" Darius declared. Any thoughts of staying quiet had been cast aside already, and Darius was laughing heartily and loudly as he showed the world just what he was capable of without bothering to hesitate. He shoved one hand into his pocket and produced countless shining pieces of jewelry. Among the fray, Therion could spot leaves, gemstones, and gold as well. "Take a butcher's at all the loot we got!"

"Yeah... It's quite the haul," Therion murmured with a nod. The gems were the shiniest things in Riverford, the darkest place that Therion had ever been to. There was a frown in his voice, and as he eyed the haul that he and Darius had accumulated, he refused to look up to meet his partner's eyes. 

Darius took a step closer to him. "Show a little more enthusiasm, mate! This is all ours now!" he exclaimed as he shook his hands for emphasis. The jewelry began to rattle in his grasp. 

"Right..." Therion whispered uncertainly. "We knew what we wanted, and we took it with our own hands." That was something that Darius mentioned a lot, so it was only a matter of time before it rubbed off on Therion as well. Therion did his best to not think about the fact that Darius had turned to violence during this most recent heist. Darius used his dagger to stab at anyone who got in his way once he was discovered to be a thief, and that was what got the guards on their trails in the first place. Unlike Therion though, Darius didn't seem to care. To him, it was all means to the end of expanding his influence and power. To Therion, it felt as if a line had been crossed, but he didn't think that he was in a position to say such a thing. It just felt wrong to him somehow. 

"That's the spirit! All the world's treasures are ours for the takin'!" Darius proclaimed proudly. He shoved the loot back into his pockets before clapping one hand down against Therion's back. The smaller boy stumbled from the sheer force of Darius' friendly hit. Part of him wondered if Darius knew that there were doubts manifesting in the back of his mind. Maybe that was why Darius had made the dramatic gesture with such force. 

"If you say so... Partner," Therion responded simply. He did his best to shove aside all guilt that he may have felt due to stealing so much. Before he met Darius, his thefts had only been in the name of survival. He did what he did solely because he was trying to live, but Darius had introduced him to the idea of a thief's pride and what it meant to make a name for oneself. He had been a thief as stories told ever since, and his own guilt didn't matter. After all, glory was the most important thing for him to keep in mind, right? That was what Darius always told him, and Darius hadn't ever been wrong before. Darius looked out for him and made sure that they were as safe and prosperous as possible. Who was Therion to go against his words?

Darius shoved his hand out for Therion to shake it, and his companion followed up on the gesture a moment later. He was being ridiculous. He was fooling himself if he though that Darius was getting more cutthroat and ambitious as of late; this was simply what thieves did, and that was what they were. They would stand by one another no matter what happened, and nothing would be able to stop them. After all, what else were partners for?

~~~~~

Therion was beyond relieved when the memory bled away to fade into the back of his mind. He didn't want to think about those days if he could avoid it. He was a loner these days, and the two thieves before him were fools if they thought that they would be able to sway the opinions that he had held so firmly for years. Placing his faith in others was only the first step to being overwhelmed with disappointment, and he wasn't going to make that mistake again. 

Therion's expression must have been particularly sour when he pointed his dagger in the direction of the two thieves before him. He took a step toward them even though he had no intentions of spilling more blood than he had to. The two men held up their hands in surrender before pivoting and running away as quickly as possible. Therion sighed angrily and shoved his dagger back into its sheath. 

Therion turned back to the stairs that would take him to the lower part of Bolderfall. This wasn't the time for him to get distracted. He had to concentrate on getting his hands on one of those introductory letters that would get him into the Ravus estate. Years had passed, and things had changed. Darius was no longer in his life, and Therion was no longer as soft as he once had been. He stole for glory one way or another these days, and he couldn't deny such an evolution for better or worse. 

Therion walked quickly through the town from there, unwilling to stop for long since that would just invite his memories of Darius to intrude his mind once more. That was the last thing he wanted when he was in such a precarious position regarding both his emotional state and his plans for theft within the Ravus estate. He had to stay focused. Therion wished briefly that he could take a dagger to his thoughts so that they would leave him the hell alone, though this was hardly the first time that he had yearned for such a thing. 

Therion was almost to the tavern when he heard two people engaging in noisy conversation nearby. He glanced over at the people responsible, doing his best to pretend that they weren't worsening the headache that was starting to pound at the corners of his mind. Both of the people were dressed in the typical garb of a merchant, though one of them was clearly richer than the other. In fact, he was so notably dripping with jewelry that Therion's eyes almost hurt just looking at him. He stood behind a fence pole and pretended that he wasn't listening in by pulling out his dagger and starting to clean it off with a small cloth. 

"When you've been in the business as long as I have, the Ravuses will be begging you for a visit!" the older merchant exclaimed. "It's all about experience!" Therion noticed that the other merchant that he was speaking to was the same man that Therion had seen outside the estate earlier in the day. It seemed as if he was far from being the only person seeking a letter that day. 

Therion snorted to himself. No matter how much experience this man had as a merchant, it hadn't taught him when to shut up, and that was going to play right into Therion's hands. The letter in question was on proud display, rolled up and tucked into a side pocket of the merchant's bag of wares. Therion approached the man, pretending to head for the weapon store of Bolderfall, and snagged the page on the way by. He tucked it into a pocket within his cloak as he arrived at the shop in question. He walked into the building and examined the wares briefly before leaving to look as inconspicuous as possible. 

It was only after Therion had left the building and passed by the merchant once more that he felt save unfurling the page to check its contents. He glanced over the paper and smiled to himself, recognizing that he had indeed grabbed the correct page. The letter was written with such bold and ornate letters that it was almost dizzying to look at. In other words, it was exactly what Therion was searching for, and it would be his ticket to enter the mansion. 

On his way there, Therion did his best to put together his appearance as much as possible, though he recognized halfway through that there was no way he was going to pass as a merchant. He was dressed to be a thief, and while that helped him a majority of the time, it was only going to be detrimental to his cause here. He was going to need to sort this out in order to sneak into the mansion, but unfortunately, there was no easy solution that he could think of. In other words, his heist was going to have to wait just a little bit longer. 

~~~~~

Clearbrook should have been their last stop before they went to Saintsbridge. 

Ophilia knew this. Clearbrook was a small town within the Riverlands, and it was the closest thing that they were going to get to Saintsbridge given that her birth village had been destroyed years ago. They should have turned their course for another part of Orsterra, but something deep down told her to not do that. 

The Ember had been speaking to her. It did not provide actual words, but that was of little consequence to Ophilia. She could sense what the Ember was trying to tell her, and Ophilia could tell that this was a time when the Ember was sending her in a direction away from Saintsbridge. There was an anxious voice at the back of her mind that said that she had to get to Saintsbridge if she was going to return to Flamesgrace in time to see her father one more time before he gave in and succumbed to his sickness. She had to hurry, but the Ember didn't seem to want her to do so. 

Ophilia held up the Lanthorn and looked at the Ember from its place at the heart of the glass. She swallowed dryly and tried to shove her thoughts free of what the Ember was asking of her. She had completely stopped walking without even realizing it, and the group began to crowd in around her. They were asking if she was alright, but Ophilia didn't even hear what they were saying. She was still staring at the Lanthorn and waiting for some answer to present itself to her. 

Ophilia had been led to multiple members of the group by the Ember. It seemed to react when it was around someone of note, and Ophilia had followed its advice in the past when she found it to be the suitable thing to do. That was how they had wound up with Primrose for example, and Ophilia had to wonder if perhaps the Ember was protesting her plans to go to Saintsbridge. Was there something that was waiting for her in another town? Was that the problem? Was the Ember trying to push her in the direction of the Cliftlands instead?

Ophilia's blue eyes were starting to be overtaken by something gentle and silver as she looked to the winds that blew in the direction of the next town over. It was in the Cliftlands as far as Ophilia could tell. Cyrus had stated that its name was Bolderfall after consulting a map that he had bought while they were in Clearbrook. Ophilia knew that she should be making for Saintsbridge, but if that was the case, then why was the Ember trying to point her down a different path? What was it within the borders of Bolderfall that needed her attention so desperately?

She took a step forward without knowing why. Her destination was far from her mind, but the Ember was pushing her onward. This was where she was meant to be going one way or another. The Ember was telling her that it was the case. She just had to listen to it whether she wanted to or not. 

Go, Ophilia... A child of the gods awaits thou.

Ophilia recognized that voice, she realized belatedly. She had heard it back when she first departed from Flamesgrace, though part of her had wondered if she had imagined it. That voice sounded nothing like anything that she had heard in the past, and she hadn't heard this voice at any point before resolving to claim the Ember. 

"A child of the gods..." Ophilia whispered, her eyes still glassy and silver. She raised the Ember and examined its light once more. A series of faces appeared among the flames, and she recognized most of them. She saw herself, Cyrus, Tressa, Olberic, Primrose, and Alfyn in that order before two unfamiliar faces rose in the white flare. The first was a young man with white hair that fell over half of his face in a sweeping motion. The second of the two was a woman at least five years older than Ophilia with a stoic expression and a wild braid. Somehow, Ophilia knew that the faces that she had seen reflected the phrase that she had heard beforehand from the voice of the woman. 

Press on... There is more that has yet to be found...

The voice came to a close in its speech after the final word was spoken, and Ophilia found herself snapping back to reality with such sudden force that she almost stumbled to the ground. Primrose's hand clamped down around her upper arm while Cyrus grabbed at her shoulders gently. "Ophilia?" Cyrus questioned of her, concern glossing over his gaze. 

The silver in Ophilia's eyes began to recede, and she blinked a few times as she recognized that the world had more colors than just white. When had everything grown so pale? Was it because of the voice that was speaking to her? Was the voice tied to the Ember somehow? The Ember was trying to communicate with her, and more importantly, that woman was using it as a vessel. Someone out there was attempting to bridge the gap with Ophilia, and she had to find a way to close the distance between them one way or another. 

"We have to go to Bolderfall," Ophilia murmured. They had already started on the way to Saintsbridge, but they wouldn't have to backtrack much in order to reach Bolderfall. "Something... Something there is calling for me."

Cyrus and Primrose looked to one another in concern, both attempting to determine what it was that had been trying to reach out to Ophilia. There was no easy answer though, and not even Ophilia knew the truth of what was taking place. She let out a small sigh, once again taking note of how bold and bright the colors were within the Riverlands. How long had the world been trying to melt away from her?

"Alright," Primrose declared. She glanced down to the Ember before turning her attention in the direction of the path that would take them to Bolderfall. "If you believe that this is best option, then I trust you."

Primrose was the first to start walking away, and Alfyn trailed after her once he had given Ophilia a glance of confusion, clearly an attempt to rationalize her symptoms and find a diagnosis as per his occupation. Olberic and Tressa started to walk next while Cyrus remained at Ophilia's side in case she stumbled once again. Ophilia swallowed nervously and focused on putting one foot in front of the other in a dizzying cycle that she wished would stop being so nauseating to her. 

Who are you? Ophilia found herself phrasing the question in the back of her mind even though she didn't expect an answer. She held up the Ember, searching for reflections of her companions once more. Nothing surfaced, and she was left to wonder just what was taking place. 

Soon... The truth shall make itself known soon enough, my child...

Chapter Text

In a word, Tressa was worried. 

How could she not be? Ophilia had shifted so suddenly when they were on the way to what would have been Saintsbridge, and even after she returned to normal, Tressa couldn't get the image out of her head of Ophilia staring at her lantern in that strange daze of almost not even being there. She could barely focus on anything that was going on as far as Tressa was concerned, always glancing back to the Ember as if she expected it to do something out of the ordinary. Tressa didn't know what she anticipated, but she felt as if something was wrong. Nothing about this could at all be normal, but that only posed the curiosity of what was taking place that could cause everything to skew so far from what it should have been. 

Bolderfall brought an abrupt end to Tressa's wonderings though. Bolderfall was a loud city, definitely the noisiest that they had visited thus far. Not even the clatter of Sunshade in the nighttime had been enough to even come close to comparing to what Bolderfall had to offer. It was the largest city in the immediate area, and the mountain that it thrived on seemed to always be alive with some type of activity. 

"Wow," was all Tressa could bring herself to say at first. She took an experimental step forward as she looked around the city. There were people everywhere, and it made her home of Rippletide seem so small and insignificant by comparison. She didn't think that she had ever seen quite so many people gathered in one area, and she didn't know what to think about it. There were a few merchants among the crowd, though there were just as many people who were clearly trying not to be seen by the common eye. If Tressa had to guess, Bolderfall had a darker side than one would have expected at a first glance. 

"We're looking for a young man with white hair," Ophilia told the rest of the group. She hadn't elaborated on the strange event that had claimed her attention earlier in their journey, but Tressa had the sneaking suspicion that the Ember had told her something out of the ordinary. The Ember had pushed Ophilia to reach out to other members of the group in the past, and it wouldn't be out of the question to say that it was responsible for this series of events as well. 

"Let's go deeper into town. I doubt that we're going to find anything staying on the outskirts of the city this way," Primrose suggested. Olberic nodded his agreement. Cyrus, on the other hand, was still watching Ophilia in notable curiosity over what she had said a few moments prior. It seemed that Tressa wasn't the only one seeking answers for Ophilia's sudden bout of odd behavior, though she had a gut feeling saying that it wouldn't be quite so easy to glean answers from Ophilia's recent actions. She had to wonder if even Ophilia understood what happened when her eyes glazed over with silver and she began to change. 

"It looks like that path over there leads somewhere special," Alfyn commented. The group had gotten deeper into Bolderfall, and Alfyn was pointing in the direction of a set of stairs that seemed to lead elsewhere within the city. The path was much fancier than anything else that Tressa had seen previously in Bolderfall, and she hoped that it would take them somewhere of note. She was desperate to hear something about this mysterious white-haired figure that Ophilia was drawn to all of a sudden. 

However, it quickly became apparent that this path wasn't going to be taking them anywhere. Standing directly in front of the stairway was a man wearing dark purple clothing. He was looking out at the other occupants of the town with a critical eye, almost as if he was searching for something. He didn't seem to notice the group approaching him, and Tressa was glad for that. After all, it meant that he wasn't looking in her direction when she let out a gasp. 

His hair was white. 

"He has to be the one!" Tressa hissed to the rest of the group, though she was admittedly doing a rather poor job of whispering. She had never been the best at such a thing in the first place, and she saw no reason to be too quiet given the situation. The man with white hair was too far away to hear her as far as she could tell, and she had to be at least somewhat loud if she was going to communicate with the rest of her team. 

"He is," Ophilia confirmed. She cleared her throat before steeling her resolve and starting to walk toward him. She missed the way that Primrose's eyes went wide with shock. The dancer was examining the white-haired man with a surprised gaze, and she reached out one hand in an attempt to grab onto Ophilia's wrist. 

However, she was a hair too late, and Ophilia wound up standing right in front of the white-haired man soon afterward. "Um... Excuse me," she began to say. She didn't seem to know what she was meant to say from there though, and she wound up closing her lips before she could bring herself to say anything else from there. 

The white-haired man pulled away from his thoughts of looking over Bolderfall, and he looked in Ophilia's direction with a frown. "Can I help you?" he asked of her. Everything about his posture was tense and guarded. His mouth was hidden from sight thanks to his scarf, but his voice was still clear above the cacophony of the town around them. 

"I... I was just wondering if we could do anything to help you," Ophilia responded with a smile. Tressa could tell that she had been pushed onward by the Ember and hadn't given herself the chance to think about what she wanted to say in detail. The recent events with the Ember were certainly changing Ophilia for better or worse; Tressa never would have imagined Ophilia capable of doing something like this without thinking in advance and preparing what she had to say, but the Ember was pushing her to do things out of her comfort zone already. 

"Sorry, I..." the man began to say, though he cut himself short when he looked over the rest of the group. His eyes fell on Tressa in particular, and the intrigue that played across his expression made Tressa stare at him in confusion. She hadn't ever had anyone look at her that way, and she wouldn't even know how she would describe it. In a way, it was as if all of the pieces of the puzzle had come together in his head, though she didn't know at all what picture he was thinking of to begin with. 

"Is something the matter?" Primrose questioned, her eyes narrowing as she looked at him intensely. There was something about her that could only be described as protective, and Tressa was left to wonder if there was more going on in Primrose's mind than initially met the eye. 

The man shook his head and smiled in Ophilia's direction, though there was an undertone of severity to his grin. "We can help each other out, as a matter of fact," he said simply, ignoring Primrose's question entirely. "You can call me Therion. I'm in seek of a few... Unique services right now, and you all could be just what I need." His gaze lingered over to Tressa once again, and she questioned him with her eyes. He refused to offer any answers, instead just looking away and not leaving behind even the smallest traces of a clue for Tressa to find. 

"Are we sure that this is a good idea?" Tressa questioned, turning back to face the rest of the group while still keeping one eye poised on Therion where she had the chance. All he did was stare at the group at large, his expression unreadable. Tressa felt a shudder run up her spine. "We don't know what it is that he wants, and I don't think that we should get into trouble at a time like this."

"I'm sure that we can trust him," Ophilia assured her, a gentle smile on her face as she looked to where the Ember was fastened against her hip once again. Tressa stared at the white fire and wondered if she would be able to see whatever it was that had prompted Ophilia to send everyone in this direction in the first place. No matter how long she stared, she was unable to glean anything that could at all be helpful to her cause, and Tressa resisted the urge to let out a heavy sigh of disappointment. 

"You had best explain what's going on when we arrive in the next town," Primrose told Ophilia, still clearly not sold on the idea of having Therion travel with them. Tressa couldn't tell what was going through Primrose's head either, though this wasn't exactly anything out of the ordinary given how hard it was to decipher Primrose's behavior on a regular basis. Tressa hoped that one of these days, she would be able to figure out what she had to do in order to understand her teammates, though part of her feared that it would be a while before she came at all close to reaching this point. 

Ophilia nodded to Primrose before she shifted her attention back to Therion. "We'll help you, Therion," she smiled. "Allow me to introduce you to everyone. My name is Ophilia, and this is Cyrus, Tressa, Olberic, Primrose, and Alfyn. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Therion stared at her as if she was out of her mind, and while Tressa had to admit that she agreed that Ophilia was acting strange, she found herself getting defensive when Therion pointed such a thing out, even if he didn't say it out loud. "Good to know," was all Therion said in response. He turned on his heel before gesturing for everyone to follow him. "Come with me."

Tressa stayed a few paces behind Therion as they moved into another part of Bolderfall that was much fancier than anything that the rest of the town had displayed up to that point. If she was traveling with any other person as her guide, Tressa would have focused on staring at her surroundings in wonder, but instead, all she could do was watch Therion with caution on her mind. Tressa had been taught to not assume the worst of people, but there was something about the way that he carried himself that bothered her deep down. She was a friendly person, but Therion bothered her in a way that she struggled to articulate openly. She wasn't going to say anything about it as long as Ophilia trusted him since she had faith in the cleric's judgement, but it remained a lingering whisper at the back of her mind. 

The gates and matching manor that came into view caught Tressa by surprise, and she almost stumbled backward from pure surprise. She hadn't ever seen a building quite so large. As far as she could tell, this was someone's home. There were people that lived in the lap of luxury this way. Tressa blinked a few times just to make sure that she was actually seeing what she thought she was, but even then, her mind was still left struggling to process it all. 

"Good day, sirs," Therion suddenly said, and Tressa found herself crashing back into reality abruptly upon hearing the words. He was behaving much more personably all of a sudden, and Tressa glanced around for a moment before her gaze fell on the guards that he was addressing. "I've come to call on the Ravuses. Would you kindly announce my arrival?"

The guard on the left glared at Therion and the rest of the group mercilessly. Tressa shuddered under his intensity. "They're not seeing anyone today! Begone with you at once! Begone, I say!" he exclaimed, making a shooing motion with his hands to show that he wasn't going to be backing down. 

Therion shook his head. "Allow me to introduce myself: you see, I am a merchant of some repute--"

"A merchant?" the guard cut in before Tressa had the chance. "And 'of repute,' you say? Don't make me laugh!" Tressa found herself biting her tongue to make sure that she didn't say something to a similar effect. She never would have taken Therion for anything at all similar to a merchant. If anything, he seemed more like a thief with his shadowy demeanor and shaded gaze. He was far from being anything like the merchants that Tressa had encountered in the past, and she had no idea what she was supposed to do about it. She blinked at him, doing her best to stay quiet since she didn't think that speaking up would help their case much. 

"You ought not judge a man by his robes," Therion cautioned deliberately. When the other guard stepped forward, Therion continued. "As a matter of fact, I was personally summoned by the lady of the house, and I doubt she would react kindly to hearing I was turned away. I, and the other members of my caravan, for that matter, must speak with the lady of the house as per her request."

The guard on the left staggered backward by a step or two. "Summoned? You?" he echoed, eyes wide in shock. 

Therion nodded, but neither one of the guards was buying it. "You think we're going to believe that codswallop?" the guard on the right asked loudly. 

"If we had a leaf for every rotten thief who gave us that story, we'd be as rich as the Ravuses!" the guard on the left cried out, placing his hands on his hips in a show of drama. Tressa's fingers gripped tightly at the straps of her bag at the mention of thieves. She couldn't help but think back to the pirates that had ransacked Rippletide and left the people to suffer. She remembered the brigands that had stormed through Cobbleston and took a hostage in the form of a small boy along the way. She absolutely detested thieves, and if Therion was one, then she was going to have to make sure that she kept her distance. Preferably, a revelation like that would end with him being ousted from the group entirely, but Tressa was trying her best to keep her biases from getting in the way. Maybe she was wrong about Therion. She certainly hoped that was the case. 

"But since we aren't, we're here protecting their fortune from would-be swindlers like you," the guard on the right continued, entirely ignorant to Tressa's internalized plight. He gestured to the rest of the party, and Alfyn shot him a look of pure offense at the mere implication that he was here as a thief. 

"Thought you could outsmart us, didn't you?" the guard on the left questioned, his tone slipping into something mocking and condescending. 

"The next time you're 'summoned,' remember to bring your letter," the guard on the right scoffed with a shake of his head. 

Therion nodded, producing a piece of white paper from beneath the dark recesses of his cloak. "Would you be referring to this letter, perchance?" he questioned casually. His tone made it clear that he knew exactly what the guards were looking for, and he undoubtedly had it pressed between his fingers. 

The guards staggered back in surprise, examining the page again and again in an attempt to determine its authenticity. "How did you get that?! It must be a fake!" the guard on the left cried out in poorly-veiled shock. 

Therion sighed and shook his head. "If you still aren't convinced, I fear there's not much else I can do," he said simply, disappointment seeping in at the edges of his words. He began to step away, the rest of the group watching him in concern. "I'll take my leave, but I will give Lady Ravus a full report on what happened today. I wonder how she will see fit to deal with this affront to my good name..."

Those words earned immediate shock from both of the guards. The man on the left looked almost desperate as he stepped toward Therion. "W-Wait, sir! We were only doing our jobs," he attempted to explain, his voice starting to edge on something pleading. The other man nodded his agreement as the guard gestured to the gate. "You may pass."

Therion turned back in the direction of the gate with a light smile, though Tressa could see it clear as could be that he was still hiding something. "Why, thank you, gentlemen," Therion told the two guards. The two men nodded before scattering in either direction to open the gates. The wires at the top fell slack as the gates were parted to make way for Therion and his companions to go through. 

Tressa remained silent until after the gates had closed behind them. In part, this was because she could barely bring herself to speak. Somehow, Ravus Manor was even more impressive up close, and it seemed to be a lot bigger with the building looming over all of them. Tressa felt like little more than an ant. The fact that just one family lived in such a massive building was ridiculous to her. Back home in Rippletide, she and her parents had lived in their simple shop, and that was all there was to it. Others lived simple lives as well, and she didn't think that she had ever seen anything as ornate as this. Even Sunshade's magnificent tavern seemed to pale in comparison to the ever-present beauty that was Ravus Manor. 

"Let's go on inside," Therion suddenly cut in, not waiting for anyone to agree or disagree with his words. He walked to the front door, and from there, all he had to do was show off the letter to the guards stationed outside the entrance. The grand brown doors were pushed open for the seven travelers, and they all filed inside before they were left alone in the shaded space of the entryway. 

The manor was mostly white on the inside, and Tressa's jaw dropped as she tried to convince herself that she was actually in such a luxurious space. The walls, floors, and ceilings were all adorned with ornate silver designs, and red curtains hung from the windows. Rugs of the same velvety scarlet covered the room. 

"We should move to the back end of the building if we wish to speak with the lady of the house," Cyrus suggested. Tressa nodded her agreement. She hadn't realized that they were given directions on where to find Lady Ravus to begin with, but she assumed that it had happened while she was caught up in her surprise over being near the manor while they were still outside. Either way, she supposed that it didn't matter all that much. As long as they were able to accomplish their goal, everything was going to be fine. 

For a moment, Tressa was willing to have confidence in Therion. She wondered if perhaps she had been too quick to judge him and believe that there was something amiss with his behavior. After all, if not for him, they wouldn't have been able to get into the mansion to begin with. Granted, he was the reason that they were there to begin with, but the fact still stood. Ravus Manor had some of the strictest security that Tressa had ever heard of, and he had played an important role in getting the team into the building. She was being ridiculous in believing that he had some ulterior motive to all of this. Everything was going to be fine. 

As soon as she thought this though, reality came crashing down. Therion didn't shake his head at Cyrus, but everything about his posture was dismissive of the idea that they were going to be heading in the direction of the lady's space. Tressa's chest grew tight, and she realized that Therion intended on exploring the building before even thinking of approaching their destination. He gestured for everyone to follow him as he started to move in a different direction from what Tressa would have expected. 

Tressa swallowed dryly, once again trying to convince herself in vain that everything was fine. She knew better though, and she was only fooling herself to try and dull her panic. Therion was doing something that she wasn't going to approve of, and he was fully aware of such a fact. He knew that nobody would want to go along with his plans if he explained what he was doing in detail, and that was why he was remaining quiet as they continued their journey. 

Once again, Tressa had an awful feeling about all of this. 

~~~~~

It had been all too easy, Therion thought. 

In all honesty, the supposedly incredible security system of House Ravus wound up coming up pathetically short compared to his expectations. All he had to do was play the guards at the gates like instruments, and before he knew it, they were all walking around inside the manor as if nothing had happened to begin with. The other guards that were patrolling the inside of the building for intruders left them alone. Therion kept the letter of introduction in one hand as a way of fending off all potential obstacles. The note was more than enough to fend off the guards from engaging them in combat or attempting to throw them out, and for that much, Therion was thankful. 

Therion didn't know why it was that this group of travelers had decided to approach him all of a sudden, but he certainly wasn't complaining about it. He worked alone, but they had been a convenient solution to a complicated problem. He wasn't going to be passing for a merchant given his regular attire, but the rest of the party was certainly personable and had reputable enough appearances to pass for being part of a group of traveling sellers. All Therion had to do was stand around with them for a while, and everything would fall into place. He doubted that he would have been able to get into the mansion if he hadn't taken advantage of their outward appearances of reputation. In that way, Therion was grateful to them for everything that they had done. He would never say this outwardly of course given that he had a reputation to uphold as well, but that was the fact of the matter regardless. 

His plan was to carry out the theft, and when the group recognized just how reviled they were with him, then they would leave. Therion was an expert in terms of escaping, and all he had to do was slide under the radar using the methods that he had learned how to utilize over his many years on the streets. For the time being though, he was concentrated on seeming as reputable as possible, and being part of a merchant caravan was the best way to accomplish such a thing. 

Therion found himself looking at them out of the corner of his eye. He would have been lying if he said that he didn't think that they seemed to be at least somewhat decent people. In fact, he was confident that they were better than most others that he had associated with. He could read at least the surface level information about them at just a first glance, and he fully intended to take care of that information if he had to. There was something deep inside of him, like a gut feeling of some kind, that was pulling him in their direction for one reason or another. Therion knew better than to be swayed by petty laws of interaction and emotion when logic and hard facts ruled his life. Leaving a weakness in his armor was asking for someone to take a knife and drive it straight into his chest. He refused to allow anyone the chance to do such a thing. 

Therion could sense it when the group arrived at their destination. The grand room was located at the bottom of a set of stairs, and four pedestals of pearly white stood at the back of the room, tall and proud. Each of the podiums was empty save for one, the second from the left. A blue gemstone gleamed brightly atop a small stand of deep obsidian, and Therion took a few steps closer. He could tell that there was something special about the stone as soon as he got anywhere near it. Every part of his body seemed to stand to attention in the presence of the jewel, and Therion knew without having to guess that this was the famed treasure of Ravus Manor. Nothing else could even dream of comparing to the sheer splendor of this gem. 

"So this is the amazing 'treasure' everyone is talking about," Therion murmured under his breath. He heard the other travelers come to a stop behind him, but he didn't turn to face them. Unwilling to convey the truth of the stone's value to the rest of the group, he scoffed. "It looks like an ordinary gemstone to me. Can't imagine it's worth all that much."

"The jewel before you is worth more than your mind could hope to fathom."

Nobody had the chance to speak before shock swept through the group at the sound of a voice that seemingly belonged to an older man. The owner of the voice, a man with white hair, dark brown clothing, and a sword at his hip, entered the room carefully. His gaze latched onto Therion instantly. Therion, meanwhile, found himself overwhelmed with something akin to humiliated shock at the fact that the man had snuck up on him at all, though he hid it to the best of his ability. "Your inability to discern as much is disconcerting, to say the least," the man continued all too casually. 

"Who the hell are you?" Therion asked, seemingly the only one with the confidence to speak to the man. "Not just anyone can sneak up on me like that."

"I should be the one asking you that question," the man returned. "Not just anyone could have made it this far into the manor, after all."

"You won't get answers by stroking my ego," Therion snapped back. 

The older man simply shook his head. "I meant it as nothing but genuine praise. Allow me to congratulate you on being the first thief to make it here."

A small growl rose up from the crowd. "I knew it," Tressa muttered, her voice strained with dissatisfaction. Ophilia held out one hand before Tressa to keep her from getting any closer to Therion. The entire group was only holding back because of her, and Therion knew it. He would have been lying if he said that he wasn't at least somewhat grateful for her naivete helping him to get this far. 

"You say it as if you wanted this to happen," Therion commented to the older man. 

"Just so. We tightened security for that very purpose," the man replied, not at all seeming to mind that he was confirming Therion's suspicions regarding the theft. "We figured no thief worth his salt would be able to turn down such a challenge."

"Go on," Therion prompted as he reached for his dagger beneath his cloak with a subtle hand. 

"To this end, we even asked the barkeep for help," the man explained. "His job: find promising thieves and spin tales about this manor."

"In other words, you tricked thieves into trying to rob this place," Therion muttered as all the pieces came clicking together in his head. This was a trap from the start, albeit not the one anybody anticipated. 

"Think of it more as appealing to their inner nature," the man said with a chuckle. "'The great treasure of Ravus Manor, guarded by a veritable army!' What thief could pass up such glory, such riches? We had such high hopes, but we were constantly met with disappointment. But finally, one has proven himself worthy."

Therion shook his head to himself. The man knew that he was the only thief in the group, the one liar in a crowd full of honesty. "I should have seen this coming..." he muttered, hating how easy it was for him to slip into something that seemed so blatantly falsified in hindsight. 

"And yet you did not, and I find myself most grateful for your lack of foresight," the man continued, not at all caring about the way he was insulting the very subject of his praise. 

"So what's your angle?" Therion questioned. He could see the rest of the group preparing for combat behind Ophilia's restrictive arm, and as much as he hated to admit it, they had a point in reaching for their weapons. His grip tightened on his dagger. 

"I need not explain that to you," the man suddenly stated, his jubilant voice suddenly falling flat. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Heathcote. I am a butler in the service of House Ravus."

"You expect me to believe an ordinary butler snuck up on me?" Therion asked, making his disbelief clear in every sarcastic word. He slipped into a defensive stance. "Anyway, who you are won't matter once I'm out of here. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

"I assure you, you won't be going anywhere anytime soon," Heathcote replied, drawing his sword from the sheath at his hip. He leveled it in Therion's direction, and the thief's eyes narrowed as guards suddenly slipped into the doorway. The danger of this trap was becoming notably clear, but if that was the case, he was just going to have to fight his way out. 

He just hoped that the rest of his temporary allies would be willing to listen to Ophilia long enough to finish the battle with him. 

Chapter Text

There were more guards hiding in the area than Therion had expected, he had to admit. They had been more than fine with letting Therion and the rest of the party roam the manor at first, but it seemed as if Heathcote had given them a single to pull them all back to the treasure room at a moment's notice. There had to be at least a dozen of them, not that Therion was particularly paying attention to them. He was too focused on Heathcote. 

Therion had to admit that Heathcote was much more durable than he expected. He released a small blast of fire magic, something that he had taught himself years ago, before following up with a dagger attack. The rest of the group was focusing on the guards themselves, though some were doing better than others. 

"We aren't trying to cause you any trouble!" Tressa exclaimed. She hadn't taken the revelation about Therion being a thief well at all, and he could hear it in her voice. She used a blast of wind magic to knock the nearby guards off their feet, sending many of them falling backward into one another before they hit the wall unceremoniously. 

"Consider this one final test," Heathcote announced, though Therion had no damn clue what that was supposed to mean. He dodged a swipe from Therion's dagger before following up with a slash of his sword. Therion raised his own blade to deflect the attack, a growl rising in the back of his throat. He hadn't ever known an old man to be so agile and threatening in combat, and he hated that he was being forced to test the limits of his instincts against someone who had proven himself to be so frustratingly unpredictable. 

"I don't know what you want from us, but we'll be out of your hair as soon as you'll let us go," Alfyn said next. He was struggling to keep a smile on his face as he sent a small attack of ice out to immobilize the guard closest to him. 

"There is something very important that I require from your party, and if you are able to succeed, then the time will come for me to explain," Heathcote replied, once again keeping his responses as vague and cryptic as he could possibly manage. 

Ophilia was the only member of the group who seemed to wish to come to Therion's aid. In truth, it was much more complicated than that; everyone else was focused on the sheer number of guards in the area, leaving Therion to occupy their leader. Perhaps there was a quiet sense of uncertainty in the air regarding Therion because he had been the one to get them into such trouble in the first place, but he couldn't care less even if he tried. He worked best alone anyway. 

Ophilia, however, didn't seem to think so, and she sent a pair of icy attacks in Heathcote's direction to knock him off balance before sending out a wave of magic that overwhelmed Therion's senses. It took him a moment to register that this was healing magic, something that he had never experienced until that moment. He had never gotten close enough to a mage during a friendly encounter nor had he ever needed it when he was around users of the arcane arts. Even though it was a new feeling, it wasn't entirely unwanted, Therion had to admit. 

Therion used this opportunity to rush in Heathcote's direction. He slashed his dagger at Heathcote mercilessly, thrusting his left hand forward to use an attack of fire. This knocked Heathcote to his knees, leaving the man notably dazed. He held at his head with one hand in an attempt to regain his footing. 

Cyrus seemed to recognize that Heathcote had been distracted, and he turned away from his work in distracting the Ravus territory soldiers to flick his wrist at Heathcote. Ice immediately began to mount against the ground, spreading toward Heathcote at breakneck speeds. It didn't take long for Heathcote's lower body to be fully encased, and part of his torso was left shrouded in the icicles as well. 

This lapse of focus on Cyrus' part offered the chance for one of the remaining soldiers to attack him, but Olberic jumped in the way with his sword braced for the strike. Sparks flew in every direction, and Olberic pushed the man backward, causing him to stumble once again. 

Alfyn had one hand shoved in his satchel, and when he removed his fingers, there was a small vial in hand. He grabbed at a few herbs located in an outside pocket before combining the material in the vial with the herbs in his grasp. From there, he shoved the product toward the nearby guard that Olberic had just stunned. It didn't take long for the soldier's body to slump over as he dipped out of consciousness. He collapsed to the ground, sleep overtaking him in full. 

Therion, meanwhile, stalked toward Heathcote with enmity burning in his gaze. He shook his head with a scoff as he halfway turned his body to face the other members of the group. His left hand dangled near Heathcote's face, but Therion spared Heathcote little more than a passing glare out of one eye. His peripheral vision should have given him the power to see the rest of the battlefield, but he turned his head regardless. 

Tressa knocked one of the remaining guards back as Ophilia did the same with an attack of light magic. Everything seemed to fall into place from there as Alfyn began to circulate with his new concoction. Therion assumed that whatever he had pulled together gave him the ability to put his target to sleep. The dazed guards were his first targets, and from there, he made the rounds to send all of the soldiers off to the land of dreams. Most of the remaining soldiers were encased in ice courtesy of Cyrus and Ophilia, but before long, that was hardly the only restriction keeping them from fighting. 

With the rest of the guards taken care of, Therion turned back to Heathcote. Cyrus snapped his fingers together, and the ice binding the guards and Heathcote splintered into nothingness, flying off in every direction possible. Therion did his best to not flinch at the sound, but he did so regardless, and he glanced over his shoulder to glare at Cyrus from behind his scarf. 

Heathcote slowly rose to his feet, brushing the remaining fragments of ice away from his body. He seemed shaky from head to toe despite his best attempts to hide it, like he was only a breath away from losing any footing that he may have had. "So you can hold your own in battle as well," he observed simply. "It seems I underestimated you."

Therion let out a heavy sigh. The adrenaline was starting to dissipate, and as it abandoned him, Therion was left to recognize just how exhausted he was in the aftermath of that battle. "That makes two of us. Was that a part of your 'butler' training?" he questioned dryly. 

"I see you still have some reservations about my true profession," Heathcote commented carefully. "Though I'm sure my victory here lends my words no credit."

Therion glared at him. The rest of the group continued to eye their surroundings warily, having realized there was something off about Heathcote's phrasing as well. "Your victory?" Therion scoffed. He went to cross his arms over his chest when he felt something foreign around his wrist. A light jangling sound accompanied the strange sensation. He glanced down at his wrist, his eyes going wide with shock. "What in the-?!"

"Any thief worth his salt should recognize that band," Heathcote replied evenly. "The mark of a convict. The fool's bangle, as some call it. Undeniable proof of a thief's humiliating blunder."

Therion's core sparked to life with rage. He had managed to avoid being tied down for long enough to acquire a fool's bangle in the past, but it had all been for naught. He was hardly the convict of Heathcote's claims, but he did have a sense of pride to look after. "Get this off of me!" Therion roared, feeling his anger come close to consuming everything he was. The rest of the group stared at the chain on his wrist, silent in their confusion and terror. 

"I do not take my orders from you," Heathcote told Therion, not at all bothered by the glares that the thief was shooting in his direction. "I've attached it to your arm for a reason. If anyone is to see it, they shall know of your failure here today."

Therion resisted the urge to rush at Heathcote with everything he had. He knew that it was hardly productive, but he had more anger than he knew what to do with in that instant, and it exploded out through his words. "Why you-!"

"However, I imagine your pride will not permit you to be seen with it, and that makes it the perfect leverage for negotiations," Heathcote interrupted, still entirely uncaring as to the rage being directed at him. 

"Negotiations?" Therion echoed, his expression contorting into something sickened. 

Heathcote simply nodded as footsteps resounded throughout the hall. The travelers all shifted together while Therion simply prepared himself for another battle. Instead though, he was met with the image of a young woman even younger than Tressa. Her hair was blonde and cut close to her face. She wore an intricate turquoise dress to match the color of her shaded eyes. 

As the young woman approached, she looked over the entire party with a detached gaze. "You may have broken into my home, but for now, I will overlook your transgressions," she declared. 

"Oh, great. More company," Therion scoffed, still not leaving his battle-ready stance. The rest of the group remained ever silent, unsure as to what they were even meant to say in the first place. Primrose reached for her dagger where it was resting in its sheath, though even she seemed to be aware that this newcomer was not as dangerous as Heathcote had proven himself to be. 

"Pardon my belated introduction," the young woman began. "My name is Cordelia Ravus, and I am the lady of the house."

"Regards to your decorator. They sure have a way with traps," Therion remarked, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he inclined his head toward Heathcote slightly. 

Cordelia seemed almost insulted by his words at first before she corrected her expression back to its previous neutrality. "Allow me to explain. The treasure you were after is a family heirloom known as the dragonstones."

"You don't say," was all Therion could bring himself to say in response. He had no idea what Cordelia was talking about, but he had a sneaking suspicion that he was going to understand everything and more soon enough. 

"The dragonstones have been in my family for generations," Cordelia started to continue. 

Therion held up one hand to stop her. "Wait, dragonstones? I see one," he told her, pointing off in the direction of the sapphire gem resting atop its podium nearby. There were certainly pedestals for four of the stones, but only one of them was actually where it was meant to be. The blue jewel glimmered in the minimal lighting as if trying to prove his point. 

"Yes. Once, there were more, but the stones were stolen during the chaos following my parents' passing," Cordelia replied. "Fortunately, Heathcote was able to recover the sapphire stone."

Heathcote nodded from his place beside Cordelia. Therion merely rolled his eyes. "What touching devotion. Is this the part where I'm moved to tears?" he asked, his voice still as dripping with sarcasm as ever. 

Heathcote shrugged nonchalantly. "Perhaps, once you understand your place in this story," he answered simply. Therion resisted the urge to roll his eyes once again. This was starting to get incredibly nauseating at aggravating speeds. Unfortunately for him, Heathcote wasn't yet finished speaking. "If you collect the three remaining stones, we shall remove the band from your arm."

"So this was your plan all along," Therion muttered. 

Cordelia nodded. "Yes, but please understand, I had no choice," she told him, her eyes wide with vulnerability. Her previous aura of power had dissipated, giving way to nothing more than desperation. She was practically pleading with Therion in the silence even though she fell into the category of being his blackmailer. 

"Well, aren't you two clever? Setting a thief to catch a thief," Therion continued. He could already feel the bangle at his wrist like a lead weight pulling him down to hell. He kept his back straight and his head held high for the sake of his own personal pride, but deep down, all he wanted to do was kick the wall and scream. He had gotten overconfident and cocky, and he had paid the price for it. Heathcote had slipped the bangle on his wrist while he was distracted by what Cyrus was doing to dispel the icy traps in the room. This had been a setup from the start, and he was the mouse caught at the center of the trap's sharpened jaws. 

Heathcote's eyes narrowed at Therion. "Don't thieves often say, 'the ensnared has only himself to blame'?" he questioned. 

Therion held in a sigh. Heathcote was just becoming stranger by the minute, and he wished that he could figure out what in Aeber's hell was going on. Unfortunately, his abilities of reading others were falling pathetically flat all of a sudden, and he wished that he could have saved his skills for the moment when he needed them most. "Yeah, they do," he muttered noncommittally before shifting his gaze up to glare at Heathcote, scrutinizing the man for any glimpse of information he could find. "For a butler, you sure know a lot about thieves, old man."

"I dare not bore you with my story when there are more pressing matters at hand," Heathcote told him, gesturing with one hand to the empty pedestals where the dragonstones had once stood. "Will you undertake Miss Ravus' mission, young thief? If you refuse..."

When a few moments of silence passed, Cordelia chimed in. "If you do this for us, I'm willing to do anything that you ask of us. If it's money you seek, we can most certainly provide it. Our search has been fruitless for years, and you're our only hope at finding the dragonstones," she told him. That aggravating sheen of desperation infected her eyes once more. "Please. We've hit the end of the line, and we need your--"

"I'll do the job," Therion interrupted, a snarl already forming at the back of his throat. He detested the idea of this more than anything else, but he knew that there was no choice. One thing about thieves was that they all held their pride close to their chests, and Therion wasn't about to let everything fall apart after all that he had accomplished. Cordelia's promises of other riches were nice, sure, but deep down, Therion knew that he had to find a way to help this bruise to his ego recover sooner rather than later. He already felt humiliated, and this was before anyone outside that singular room realized that he had failed in his mission. His reputation was simply that, and Therion detested feeling this damn helpless. He would do anything to get rid of this sensation, even if it meant chasing some long-gone jewels halfway across the damn continent. His fist clenched in rage, his nails digging into his palm as a last-ditch effort to keep himself from snapping. 

"Excellent. Then I pray your journey will be a successful one," Heathcote said, smiling tightly from behind his mustache as if it wasn't clear that he was the reason all of this was happening to begin with. 

Therion was more than happy to start moving to leave after that, but he was cut off by Cyrus speaking. "I have a few questions, if you wouldn't mind," he declared. Therion resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he continued walking for the door. 

"We can answer them now, if you would like," Cordelia told him, her face too smiley and bright for someone that Therion wanted to punch. "We shall see you off when you leave town. You can meet up with the rest of your party then. How does that sound?"

Therion knew that the words were directed at him. He hated the idea of having to work with the rest of this group when he had barely agreed to do this ridiculous favor for Cordelia in the first place. He had been planning on slipping away when they weren't paying attention to continue going about his life as if he had never met them to begin with. 

However, he knew that wasn't going to slide, so he simply growled under his breath before replying. "Fine. I have some unfinished business to take care of first," he said before he left the room behind entirely. Rage still burned at his core, and if he couldn't take his anguish out on Cordelia, Heathcote, or the rest of his party, then he was going to direct it at the person who had sent him in the direction of Ravus Manor in the first place. 

~~~~~

Cyrus watched as Therion left with a passive gaze, uncertain as to how he was meant to respond before he realized that there likely wasn't a good way to reach out to Therion in that instant anyway. Therion needed some time to himself, it seemed, and this gave Cyrus the perfect chance to inquire about a few matters that had been bothering him ever since they arrived in the manor. 

"I've heard of the treasure of House Ravus," Cyrus began. He did his best to forget about the fact that he had been turned into an accomplice for a thief as he trained his gaze on Cordelia and Heathcote. "These dragonstones seem to hold much magical power. I can feel the strength they possess from over here."

Cordelia nodded. "The dragonstones are incredibly powerful. They possess magical strength that most could only hope of understanding," she replied. "And they have been kept under the watch of House Ravus for generations. A warning has been passed down alongside the stones... They must not fall into the wrong hands. Their power is immense, and if it is used for the wrong purposes... The destruction would be immeasurable."

"And you've tried to get them back through ethical means for quite some time only to fall short. That's why you need Therion," Primrose frowned. She earned a nod from Cordelia as she turned her attention to Heathcote. "It seems as if you had business with the rest of us as well."

"I somehow doubt that those who have gotten their hands on the dragonstones will be willing to part with them easily. They are known to grow almost toxic when isolated, and their power is dangerous if it infects a person. We have kept our distance from them here, but others have no doubt been taken over by their power. That friend of yours is a potent thief, but he will not be able to steal the gems alone. If something happens where the targets grow violent, he will need support. The battle was to see if you as a team were capable of dispatching of the threats that may stand in your way," Heathcote explained. 

"I don't think we're going to be with him for much longer," Tressa muttered. "He used us. He lied about what he was actually going to do, and... I can't just stand around here and side with someone who did all that! It isn't right!"

"I trust him," Ophilia told Tressa, her voice so quiet that it could have been completely covered by a stray breeze. When Tressa stared at her in surprise, Ophilia continued. "Something about him... I can tell that he isn't going to abandon us. I can see it in his eyes. He's far kinder than he wishes for us to know. Something pushed me to speak with him in the first place, and I... I trust it. That was how I met all of you, and I'm going to count on it being true with Therion as well."

"It seems like our little group here has grown a bit larger then, huh?" Alfyn commented with a lopsided smile that hardly fit the situation. "Though I somehow doubt he'll be quick to warm up to the rest of us."

"I'm sure that you will be able to accomplish that in time," Cordelia assured him. "Heathcote and I will send you off from Bolderfall. We can explain the rest of our information to Therion at that time as well. For now, if there are any other supplies that you require for your journey, we would be more than happy to provide it."

Cyrus glanced to the rest of the group. Tressa was quick to step up to take care of matters from there thanks to being the resident specialist of inventory. The group started off into the deeper halls of the manor afterward. Cyrus gave one final glance in the direction of the dragonstone. The sapphire gem shone brighter than any other jewel, and he could tell that it held just as much power as Cordelia had described, if not more. 

What strength could rest inside that stone? How curious... 

~~~~~

Therion slid into the same old barstool that he had been using just earlier that morning, a scowl on his features. The barkeep was busy tending to other patrons, but he perked up when he saw Therion was there. "Ah, you're back," the man remarked simply. 

"With a tale to tell, too. I'll trade it for a drink," Therion replied as he pressed his forearms against the table in front of him. He was glad to be back in the familiar chaos of the tavern. He would take that over the suffocating gazes of his newfound companions any day, and he had only been around them for a few hours. 

The barkeep let out a chuckle. "'Fraid I don't deal in that currency."

Therion's eyes narrowed, and his voice took on a quality so dry that it was almost comedic. He would have laughed had he not been boiling with rage. The bangle around his wrist felt warmer all of a sudden, so uncomfortable that he had half a mind to claw it off himself. "Listen, I just came from Ravus Manor. Had a lovely chat with a fellow named Heathcote. Maybe you know him?" Therion prompted, though he already knew the answer to his inquiry. The evidence was easy enough to put together since he knew what he was looking for. 

The barkeep nodded his confirmation. "I did warn ye not to go there. So, was it everythin' ye expected it to be?"

Therion shook his head, resisting the urge to sit on his hand so that he didn't start messing with the sign of his misstep where it hung like lead around his arm. "All that and more, and now I'm awfully thirsty. I might need two drinks to get this bad taste out of my mouth." He knew that a drink would do nothing but tide over his rage for a while longer, but Therion was willing to accept that. Nothing was going to fix this aside from carrying out the damn mission, but the barkeep didn't need to know that. He wasn't even going to tell the rest of the group that Cordelia and Heathcote seemed to want him to team up with permanently. Something in the back of his mind asked where everything had gone so wrong as he eyed the bottle of mead nearby. 

The barkeep caved with a laugh as he shook his head. "Comin' right up." He pulled the cork from the bottle and poured into a mug before passing it over in Therion's direction, not even asking which drink the thief was seeking. It was the same one each time, after all, though Therion knew it was going to taste bitter this time around. 

He wound up being right, and Therion spent what felt like a decade sitting at the bar and sipping carefully at his drink. He knew that he was just procrastinating, but he couldn't bring himself to go any faster. He had a job to take care of in the eyes of Cordelia and Heathcote, and he wasn't going to be able to get away quite so easily. Therion was a man of his word, and he didn't think that he had it in him to abandon them after promising to carry out this mission. Cordelia's eyes, so pleading and full of shattered hope, stung him to even think about, as if he had been slapped in the face by the very memory of her broken desperation. His fate for a short while was set in stone, it seemed.

At the very least, my next few heists are bound to be grand ones. 

He sulked into his drink even more when he next took a sip. 

~~~~~

When Therion finally left the tavern behind, he had figured out a way to silence the jangle of the band by tucking it under his sleeve. It was an uncomfortable fit, but he knew that it was better than broadcasting the subject of his blackmail for the world to see. The Cliftlands heat of Bolderfall felt even more suffocating than usual as he walked up the steps as quickly as he could without anyone taking particular notice of him. All he wanted to do was get out of the damn town and pretend that he had never been there to begin with for as long as he could even though he knew that was far from being realistic. 

The entrance of the town was crowded, and upon closer examination, Therion realized that the rest of the party was gathered together alongside Cordelia and Heathcote. They were talking amongst themselves until Cordelia saw Therion approaching. She perked up and waved to him. "Mr. Therion! Mr. Therion!" she cried out. Therion wanted to sink into the ground. She was going to blow what little dignity he had left to smithereens if she wasn't careful. Chances were high that she had learned his name by speaking with the rest of the group, and somehow, that only made the situation more embarrassing at the reminder that Therion was going to be with them for quite a while longer. 

"What now?" Therion asked, muttering it more to himself than questioning of anyone else. He knew that his bitterness was still seeping through despite his attempts to mask it, not that Cordelia or anyone else seemed bothered. 

"I came to see you off on your journey," Cordelia said, and Therion realized too late that she had heard him a moment prior. She had already explained this, but she continued regardless. "As it is at my behest that you are setting out."

Therion shook his head. "Look, I'm just fulfilling my half of a bargain. Nothing more, nothing less," he told her, keeping his voice low so as to not attract the attention of the other members of the group who were chatting amongst themselves nearby. Their eyes were locked onto a map in Tressa's hands. They were undoubtedly planning out their next step as a team. 

"I understand that, but..." Cordelia began, her voice trailing off when she realized that she didn't know how to finish the sentence. 

"He's right, m'lady. This is simply an agreement between us and a skilled but... Shortsighted thief," Heathcote told her. Therion felt his rage boil over at the comment about being shortsighted, and he wanted nothing more than to slam his fist into something green and minty until someone started bleeding. 

"Exactly," was all Therion could bring himself to reply with. He knew that Heathcote's comment hadn't been intended to be quite so personal, but as it was, that simply put him in an even worse mood than before. In all honesty, he hadn't even though that to be possible. 

"There is something you should know before you go," Heathcote said next, not missing a beat despite undoubtedly seeing Therion's upset demeanor. "As you saw, I recovered a blue stone. It is known as the sapphire dragonstone. The remaining three are the dragonstones of ruby, emerald, and gold--each named for its sheen."

"And if I steal them all back for you, you'll remove this band," Therion replied impatiently. He resisted the urge to pick at the place where the metal made contact with his skin. This was already getting frustrated, and it had been less than an hour since he was given the twisted parting gift. 

"You have my word," Heathcote promised with a bow of his head. 

Therion scoffed. "Your word? Well, that sounds legitimate. Any idea where I should start looking?" Therion asked, every word dripping with malice and sarcasm. 

"Rumor has it that a scholar in Noblecourt is researching the ruby dragonstone," Heathcote replied. Therion had to wonder how Heathcote became privy to this knowledge if the dragonstones had been passed around in back alleys as he suspected, but he knew that any inquiries would only end in deflection

Instead, he shook his head with a sharpened yet empty bark of a laugh. "Noblecourt? Great. I'll fit right in," Therion muttered. Noblecourt was a city known for its lengthy history of nobility, and it was a refined city where many richer people found their homes. He was going to stick out like a sore thumb, and yet, he had no choice. 

Therion was on the verge of leaving when he was cut off by another cry of his name from Cordelia. "Mr. Therion!" she exclaimed. 

He rolled his eyes behind his scarf. "What is it this time?" 

"Please... Do take care out there," Cordelia instructed of him. Therion didn't turn to face her, and her features went tight. "Did I say something amiss?"

Therion paused for what felt like an eternity before he offered a response. "Never thought a man of my talents would be working for someone like..." He stopped and shook his head. "Ah, it's nothing. You'll get your stones back soon. Just leave the thieving to me."

Therion turned on his heel and started to walk away from there. Cordelia sighed as the party followed in his footsteps, off to wherever the hell their next destination was set to be. Therion sighed from behind his scarf. He hadn't been around people this naive and trusting in a long time, and he hadn't missed it at all. 

Chapter Text

The trees of S'warkii swayed gently as H'aanit made her way to the entrance of the town. Her honey blonde braid shifted with her every move the same way that the fur covering her body did. H'aanit's eternal companion, a snow leopard by the name of Linde remained ever at her side as she began her journey. There was a whisper in the wind that brought with it the promise of something new and beautiful with the coming dawn. H'aanit could sense that this was a sign of the world itself offering its blessing in the name of what was to come. 

When H'aanit arrived at her destination, she was met with the figure of a taller man wearing the same fur that she did. His hair was gray and sharp, moving slightly with the breeze as he rustled the ears of his companion, a wolf who went by the name of H ä gen. H'aanit found herself inwardly sighing with relief at the sight of him. "Good. Thou hast yet to depart," she said as she approached him, Linde's tail flicking as she followed in the footsteps of her partner. 

"Waylaid by sentiment, my girl," the man responded. The man, Z'aanta, was H'aanit's mentor and master in life and its many challenges. He stopped scratching at H ä gen's ears to turn and face his student. "It'd ill behooven me to leave without bidding my favorite prentice a fare-thee-well."

H'aanit's eyes narrowed in his direction. "A joke, as always," she drawled in reply. This was hardly out of the ordinary for Z'aanta; even though H'aanit was the student and he the master, it seemed as if their roles were reversed on many occasions. Z'aanta was a free spirit who followed his whims with a smile on his face while H'aanit was much more stoic. Some had called her emotionless in the past, though in H'aanit's eyes, it was simply a matter of her understanding what it meant to be oriented in business. It was due to this comprehension that she let go of her dry thoughts to focus on Z'aanta once more a moment later. "Will thy journey be long, Master?"

"Ah... A good question, that," Z'aanta answered softly. "The request cometh from none other than the Knights Ardante. The hunt will taken us to distant lands, and the beast we pursuen is a fearsome one."

"I see," H'aanit murmured simply. She had heard whispers of her master's coming journey, though the details remained elusive. It seemed as if not even Z'aanta fully understood what it was that he was set to be doing, not that this particularly surprised H'aanit. If anything, it was simply par for the course with him. Z'aanta lived life like a dandelion on the breeze, flowing with whatever life handed him for better or worse. 

Z'aanta exploded in jubilant laughter when he saw how solemn H'aanit's expression had become. "Looken not so glum, girl! I'm no tyro with green arrows and bruises on his bow arm," he assured her even though she was already fully aware of such a truth. He took a step toward H'aanit and placed one hand on her shoulder. "I'll doe the deed and be back before two moons have passed." When H'aanit once again responded with silence, Z'aanta pulled away. "Still no smile? What is it, my girl?"

H'aanit crossed her arms over her chest as she examined Z'aanta from head to toe. "'Tis not the hunt that concerneth me. Thou intendest to stoppen off somewhere along the way," he told her even though this was something that he already knew was part of the plan. Once again, evidence of H'aanit being the adult in the dynamic surfaced with renewed vigor. 

It wasn't until after H'aanit had been staring at Z'aanta with a critical glare for a few seconds that he yielded to her words. "Here and there, mayhap. Why dost thou ask?" he questioned as innocently as he could manage despite knowing that was bound to come next. 

H'aanit sighed under her breath. "Thou forgetst or feignst ignorance, so I will reminde thee. On the last hunt, thou gambledst away thy purse and came back a poorer man than thou left," she told him, her eyes practically pinning him in place with their intensity. 

Z'aanta looked as if he had been torn apart from the inside out by her words when he winced. "Poorer in coin, mayhap," he said, a pathetic attempt at deflection against someone who would never dare to fall for such tricks. "Yes, I did make a few wagers at the arena in Victors Hollow..." The sentence had a dizzying sense of inflection when he spoke it. H'aanit had gone through this song and dance with Z'aanta before, and he was bound to repeat the same phrases that he had the last few times this had come up. "And learned that while I have a keen eye for assessing the strength of beasts, I am at quite a loss with men. A valuable lesson that was cheaply bought!"

"Not so cheap in the end," H'aanit frowned. She had heard that same excuse from Z'aanta in the past on many different occasions, but it never did anything to change her mind or sway her opinion in the slightest. "Eliza had to payen thy debts, and thou only finishedst paying her back this last moon. Promisen me, Master: no more foolish gambling."

Z'aanta's lips were once again claimed by laughter at her words, and he shook his head grandly. "But what of the old hunter's saying? 'If the first arrow faileth, nock a second and tryen again!'"

H'aanit sighed in exasperation. "Thou just madest that up," she replied dryly, not one to be fooled by Z'aanta's confidence and jubilant demeanor. She was fully aware of his tricks and how to get around them, and this was hardly an exception. 

"Comen now, girl! Thou art too young by half for such world-weary sighs. Must thou makest our parting so gloomy?" Z'aanta questioned. 

Instead of responding to Z'aanta, H'aanit walked past him and toward his wolf companion.  H ä gen's tail was flicking back and forth, and he perked up when he noticed H'aanit approaching. "I turn to thee,  H ä gen. Looken after Master, for he can rarely be bothered to look after himself," H'aanit told the wolf. Even if the creature had no ways of understanding the human tongue, H'aanit still held faith that the sentiment was understood in some way or another. 

H ä gen responded with a bark, and H'aanit smiled to herself as she rubbed a stroke around the wolf's ears. Z'aanta, meanwhile, was left appalled. "Even thou takest her side against me, old friend?" he asked of the wolf. 

"He knoweth good sense when he heareth it," H'aanit told Z'aanta, offering one last stroke at  H ä gen's head before pulling her hand away.  H ä gen barked a moment later to show his agreement. 

"Growlest thou not at me, thou faithless turncoat!" Z'aanta exclaimed dramatically.  H ä gen simply stared at his master with a glare that he seemingly had learned to emulate from H'aanit. Linde sat by passively, though Z'aanta already knew just as well as anyone else what side the snow leopard would take in this argument. 

Before Z'aanta could say much more to protest H'aanit's stern lecturing, a door to a nearby house opened. Eliza Woodward appeared in the entryway, her red hair swaying in the breeze. Freckles splattered themselves across the bridge of her nose in a way that seemed almost effortless in its perfection. Her eyes glittered in the dawning daylight the same way that her silvery armor sparkled. She was the leader of the Knights Ardante and had been a close companion of the hunters of S'warkii for quite some time. "Hail, H'aanit. Have you come to see us off?" Eliza questioned with a bright and knowing smile. 

H'aanit nodded. "I have comen to warn Master about straying from the path," she said simply, not bothering with a barbed look in Z'aanta's direction. He already understood what she meant regardless. 

Z'aanta looked to the ground quietly as Eliza replied with a sigh. "And I thank you for it. I do not have the leaves to repay another debt like that..." 

"Have I not a single ally in this infernal village?" Z'aanta cried out dramatically as he took a few steps away from the conversation. Linde tilted her head in his direction quietly. 

Eliza followed in his footsteps a moment later. "I am your friend, but I am also a Knight Ardante... And your client. You would do well not to forget this," she reminded him. 

"Not for a moment, Most Honorable Eliza of the illustrious Knights Ardante," Z'aanta promised her as he turned in her direction once more. 

Eliza nodded with a chuckle. "That's more like it." She turned in H'aanit's direction a moment later. "Fear not. I'll keep him out of trouble. I'll have him fill his evenings penning a detailed account of our adventures on the hunt."

H'aanit bowed her head deeply to Eliza. "Taken care, and may thine arrows strike true. I shall looke after the forest till the day of thy return," she promised. 

"Thankenee, my girl," Z'aanta told her with a nod. "And farewell."  H ä gen moved to his master's side as Z'aanta started to walk out of the village. After a few moments of silence, Eliza trailed after him, and soon enough, they were gone, mere memories of silhouettes between the Woodlands trees. 

~~~~~

A year had passed since the day that Z'aanta departed, and H'aanit found herself in much the same place that she had been before. She stared out at the woods with Linde at her side. Everything was the same as it had been the day that Z'aanta left with Hägen and Eliza all that time ago, except none of them had returned to the village since then. The hunt had gone on longer than the two simple moons that Z'aanta had initially promised. 

H'aanit had done a strong job of holding up her end of the bargain. S'warkii was under her constant surveillance. The village was small, and there were few left who spoke the S'warkii dialect and understood the town's methods of hunting that had been passed down for generations. Their population had dwindled from the populous tribe they once had been, leaving behind only a dozen houses hidden amongst the trees for all of the legends that had been shared so long ago. 

H'aanit sighed as she stared out into the trees. "A year hath passed since that day," she commented to Linde. The snow leopard's tail flicked back and forth to show that she was listening. H'aanit reached into her pocket and unfolded a single piece of parchment. "In all that time, Master could only be bothered to senden a single letter." H'aanit had read it a thousand times, and yet, she found herself absorbing the words once more, her mind parroting them in Z'aanta's familiar voice. 

"H'aanit! 'Tis me, thy revered Master. Missest me? I won't bore thee with any blather about the weather or the season. Who knoweth when this will even arrive, after all. For three months now, I have pursuede the trail of the beast soughten by the Knights Ardante. A beast by the name of 'Redeye.' That's their name for it, leastwise. As for its true name--if it even hath one--none can say. But on my father's bow, I sweare 'tis the most vexing quarry I've ever hadde the misfortune to hunten. It eludeth mine every trap, and--though thou may thinketh me mad for saying this--I sweare it can even senseth every move I make. I knowe not if it is human intelligence or pure animal instinct, but... Either way, it refuseth to be caught. Still, we appear to have annoyeden it sufficiently that it is moving on to new pastures. Judging from its behavior, I believe it meaneth to make for the lands around Stonegard. I will be frank with thee, my girl, for thou'st always been able to seen through my pretenses. The chase will be hard, and the hunt will not endeth soon. But fear not, for endeth it shall. Hast thou ever known your master to failen in a hunt? And so I aske thee, my dear prentice. Pray look after the village until I returne. Oh, and be not a worrywart. Always thy friend and teacher, Z'aanta."

H'aanit was still looking down at the letter when she next spoke. "Never heard Master admitteth that any hunt would be difficult," she told Linde in a quiet murmur. "Either this 'Redeye' is truly the most formidable of beasts... Or he stoppeth in every gambler's den from here to Stonegard." H'aanit shook her head as soon as she spoke the words. She knew better than that. For all of Z'aanta's foolish behavior, he never even dared to slack off when it came to the hunt. He was a professional at what he did, and that was why he had come to be employed by the Knights Ardante to begin with. It was uncommon for the primary knight force of Orsterra to turn to any outside assistance, but this must have been a special case. Redeye truly must have been something unexpected, and H'aanit could only pray that the beast was not quite as powerful as she feared. 

H'aanit must have allowed her stoic mask to slip briefly, because before she knew it, Linde was nuzzling against the hand that was not grasping at the letter from Z'aanta. The leopard purred gently, and H'aanit folded the page before putting it back in her pocket. She stroked at Linde's head gently, already feeling her woes start to wash away. Linde was nothing if not calming outside the context of combat. She was a fearsome battler during a hunt, but outside of those circumstances, she was H'aanit's companion first and foremost, and Linde intended to make such a fact known. 

"Yes, Linde. I knowe," H'aanit whispered to her feline companion. "Master entrusted the safety of the village to me. My duty now is to the villagers." She pulled her hand away from Linde and started down the few steps that led to the rest of S'warkii from the town's entrance. "Comen. Leten us visit the headman and see if anyone hath need of my bow."

Linde didn't hesitate to trail after H'aanit in the moments that followed. S'warkii was much the same way that it had been throughout all of H'aanit's childhood. The people there were small in number, but since everyone knew one another, there was an unparalleled sense of companionship and familiarity amongst the people. H'aanit gave nods in the direction of the other people as she passed by. The headman was undoubtedly in his regular position at the center of town, but that didn't mean that she had to stay away from the concept of kindness along the way. Many had called her stoic before, but H'aanit simply showed her affection in other ways. Silence spoke much louder than words ever could when the moment was right. 

The headman was standing in the same position that H'aanit had come to expect from him. She didn't mince words as she approached him. "Headman. How might my bow serveth ye today?" she questioned. 

The headman chuckled as soon as he heard the familiar phrase from her. "Every day thou comst here seeking work. Sometimes I wondere if thou art truly thy master's prentice!" H'aanit didn't respond with humor in the slightest to the headman's words, prompting him to clear his throat and get down to business immediately afterward. "But jesting aside, no, there is no hunt today."

The weight of the letter was stifling in H'aanit's pocket, and she frowned to herself. The anniversary of her master's departure had arrived, and she didn't want to think about all that entailed if possible. The idea of thinking about Z'aanta's lack of presence made her want to be nauseous, and she frowned. "Is there aught else I might doe?" H'aanit asked, praying inwardly that there would be a job to occupy her waking thoughts at the reminder of Z'aanta's continued business with the hunt of Redeye. 

The headman paused thoughtfully, either unaware of her desperation or choosing to not acknowledge it. "Well... The youngsters are always in need of lessons," he told her. "Thou couldst give them a lesson or two in bowmanship. The clan of the Darkwood inherited the lore of the beasts and the trees... Yet today, only thou and Z'aanta can truly useth that lore. Why, when I was a mere stripling..."

H'aanit already knew exactly what the headman was going to say. He was going to discuss the fact that there had once been many others who were capable of utilizing the Darkwood techniques. H'aanit's parents had once been among those were able to use the full strength of S'warkii's occupants, but they had passed years prior before they were able to pass on their key knowledge. As such, H'aan't had learned the truth of the past from Z'aanta. The reminder as to her master's disappearance was far from being what she needed. A distraction was her first priority, and that was exactly why she held up one hand to stop the headman in his tracks. 

"Yes, yes. I have hearde your stories before, and I knowe how long they aren," H'aanit told him. She had to get on with teaching the younger members of the S'warkii village the way of the bow. It would keep her from having to think about the past, and she was certainly looking for a chance to escape such a thing. 

The headman didn't take offense at all to H'aanit's bluntness, instead simply shaking his head with a chuckle. He had grown used to H'aanit's demeanor after being around her for so many years. "Long-winded tales are the vice of many an old man. My apologies, child," he said kindly. "But if thou couldst showen the youngsters the way of the hunt, I would be most grateful. I saw two of them waiting eagerly in the square. Perhaps thou couldst starten with them."

H'aanit simply nodded. "It will be done," she assured him before pivoting on her heel to walk away, Linde ever at her heels. She was relieved for the chance to get out of her own head. This was exactly what she needed, and she was going to take advantage of it while she had the chance. 

It didn't take long for H'aanit to find who she was looking for. There were two younger hunters chatting amongst themselves, their voices an excited buzz above the rest of the village. H'aanit had seen them around the area a few times, though she hadn't spoken to them much. Her job within the village had her occupied a strong majority of the time, and that left little time for formalities unrelated to hunting. That didn't mean that she was going to pass up on this opportunity though. 

The lore of the Darkwood clan was something that H'aanit knew well. Many generations prior, the Darkwood clan had thrived in the forests around S'warkii, and they were known for being able to tame any beast to their wishes. They passed down such techniques to their children, and eventually, it reached H'aanit and Z'aanta. The number of fighters in the Darkwood clan had diminished as the years went by, but there were still a few people capable of upholding the ancient traditions. H'aanit and Z'aanta were the only ones who had finished their training in full, though they were trying to spread the truth of their teachings down to future generations. Of course, that was much easier said than done as long as H'aanit was the only one present to teach the youths with Z'aanta's absence. 

Taming beasts had come to be easy for her, and as long as her foe was weakened enough, she was able to bring the beast to her side to do as she so pleased. The best way to show off the extent of the Darkwood teachings to the youths was to utilize the assistance of the creatures that H'aanit had tamed in the past. Experience spoke miles more than any verbal conversation could ever hope to, after all. 

H'aanit smiled as she set her sights on the youths. This was exactly what she needed to get her mind off Z'aanta's absence. She scratched the fur behind Linde's ear gently, and the leopard purred as she leaned into H'aanit's grasp, seemingly knowing what was to come next. It was time for the dynamic duo to take care of their duties within the village, and they were going to give it their all. 

~~~~~

Primrose didn't know what she was meant to think of Ophilia, if she was being honest. 

In the beginning, she had thought of the cleric as being painfully open and earnest, unyielding in her attempts to reach out to and help everyone that she just so happened to cross paths with. Such honesty had led to Primrose joining the party in the first place, and that seemed to apply to other members of the team as well. Primrose was good at reading people given that it came with the territory of her occupation. Being a dancer in Sunshade for so many years had left her with no choice but to learn how to glean information from a simple glance. It was necessary to her survival, though some people were easier to understand than others. She had expected Ophilia to be one of these cases in the beginning. 

However, recent events had showed Primrose just how wrong she was capable of being. Ophilia was nowhere near as straightforward as she had seemed, and the fact that Therion was with the group at all should have been more than evidence enough of that. Therion hadn't said a word since they left behind Bolderfall with chances of arriving at the small Woodlands town of S'warkii by sunset. Ophilia kept on glancing down at the Ember where it was resting in its Lanthorn. She hadn't said a word about what she had seemingly seen in the Ember to prompt her to change their course from Saintsbridge to Bolderfall in the first place. Ophilia barely even seemed to notice the fact that the rest of the group was staring at her because of her odd behavior. 

Primrose resisted the urge to let out a sigh, desperately trying to not attract any unnecessary attention. Presumably, the group was going to S'warkii for much the same reason that they had gone to Bolderfall. Ophilia had seen something in the Ember that had told her that this was the path that they were meant to be traveling on. Ophilia had mentioned searching for a young man with white-hair while they were in Bolderfall, and then, Therion had appeared. It was too much of a coincidence for Primrose to simply believe it without hesitation, and so, she chose to doubt the facts that she had been given. There was something more going on to cause Ophilia to act so strangely. Primrose simply had to figure out what it was. 

"So... S'warkii, huh?" Alfyn asked, breaking through the silence that had covered the group ever since their departure from Bolderfall. Primrose knew exactly why they were quiet as well, and she had to admit that she was impressed with Alfyn for having the confidence to pierce the quiet. The other members of the group didn't want to disturb Therion while he was moping around the way that he was, though Alfyn didn't seem as if he was going to let that stop him from making the journey to S'warkii as enjoyable as possible. 

"I've never heard of it," Alfyn continued, seemingly apathetic to the thoughts running through Primrose's mind. "What is this place going to be like? I've never left Clearbrook before coming with you all, so my experience here is a bit limited." He punctuated the sentence with a light chuckle, though he didn't seem to be nervous at all. Primrose concluded that he was either a great actor or legitimately oblivious to Therion's stony demeanor. Both of them seemed possible given Alfyn's endless supply of smiles and his bright outlook on life. 

"S'warkii is a small village hidden deep in the trees of the Woodlands," Olberic explained. "It houses the remnants of the Darkwood clan, a tribe of ancient fighters known for having a special connection with the land itself. Some have rumored that they learned their techniques of hunting and fighting from the goddess Draefendi herself, though there is no solid evidence to back up such a theory."

"The village is easy to miss if you don't know what you are meant to be searching for. Many travelers have gotten lost trying to find its entrance as a result," Cyrus chimed in. He was the one at the front of the party with the map in hand. He was able to see it at all thanks to the light that was filtering its way between the tree leaves overhead. 

"Great. And we're supposed to trust a single piece of paper to take us there?" Therion asked, his voice dry and grating. It seemed as if he had not yet recovered from the blow to his pride that he had suffered from that morning, and Primrose resisted a cringe at how irritated his voice sounded. There was an impatient quality to it as well, and Primrose suspected that he wanted nothing more than to go to Noblecourt and get the theft of the dragonstones over with sooner rather than later. Primrose, personally, was glad that they were avoiding Noblecourt for the time being. She wanted to stay as far away from the place as possible for just a while longer. It would only provide her with painful memories that she wished to avoid, so she was beyond grateful for their stop in S'warkii at Ophilia's suggestion. 

"I can feel something calling me there," Ophilia suddenly said, her voice almost dreamlike in its haziness. She was no longer staring at the Ember as she had been previously, and her shoulders were set in something determined and confident, as if nothing in the world was going to be able to stop her from reaching S'warkii and finding what it was that was searching for her. 

"What in the world is going on?" Tressa asked of Ophilia, her hands pressed against her hips. "You've been acting kind of weird ever since we left Clearbrook. It's like you've been taken over by some kind of spirit!"

Ophilia shook her head, though the glassy texture to her eyes refused to leave. "That isn't it at all... I simply know that there's something in S'warkii that is seeking my attention. I... I think it's a woman. I don't remember the details of her face, but... I believe that she was wearing the fur that people in S'warkii traditionally use," she replied. 

"How do you know so much about S'warkii, Phili?" Alfyn questioned of her. "Have you been there before or something?"

Ophilia grew tense at the nickname, though she didn't explain why it bothered her. Instead, she simply shook her head. "No... But Flamesgrace is close to here. We had people come by from S'warkii every once in a while to visit the cathedral. I started to recognize their clothing after a while," she explained. The dazed quality of her voice was starting to dissipate, though Primrose didn't think that it was going to be fading entirely until after they found the woman that Ophilia was speaking about. Once again, Primrose was left to wonder the full extent of what was taking place inside of Ophilia's head, though she doubted that the answer would be a simple one to find. 

"It seems as if we're approaching the town's entrance," Cyrus suddenly declared. His eyes went wide a moment later, and he turned to face a nearby bush before snapping his fingers. A quick flash of fire slammed into a monster that was on the verge of lashing out. The flames were self-contained on the surface of the beast's body, and after a moment, the creature started to wail in pain. Therion didn't even hesitate to finish the creature off, and all it took was a flash of his sword for their assailant to fall still. The flames sputtered out of existence at Cyrus' request, though Primrose continued to stare at the creature for a few beats even after the beast was defeated. 

"Good," was all Therion said in response to Cyrus' words. He returned his sword to its sheath a moment later before starting to walk faster. He appeared to be on the verge of taking the map from Cyrus to figure out where they were meant to be going, and his impatience only grew more prominent. While Primrose could sympathize because of the nature of her own goal, she hoped that Therion stopped being quite so on edge sooner rather than later. It was already starting to stress Tressa out, and it was only a matter of time before such a fear spread. 

Cyrus rolled the map up a moment later, and the group followed after him through a final cluster of trees. Primrose could smell something like a bonfire, and she recognized that they were almost upon their destination. There was something about S'warkii that was admittedly picturesque, and she was almost looking forward to seeing a place so far off the beaten path. Simultaneously, she hoped that the group didn't find any trouble while they were there. It seemed as if they had encountered more than enough danger in all of their past villages as it was, and Primrose didn't want to experience a close brush with grief or pain. She had seen more than enough of that to last a lifetime. 

But for the time being, all she could do was hope. Only time would be able to tell what unfolded once they arrived. 

Chapter Text

The process of finishing the training of the younger people in the village went by quickly and easily. It was almost effortless to H'aanit, and after both of the youths lost under the power of her lore of the forest, she offered the commentary that she believed would help them most. Once they were gone, off to practice all that she had taught them, H'aanit remained where she was and scratched at the back of Linde's ears. The leopard purred and leaned into the huntress' grasp, her eyes falling shut from the serenity of the situation. 

However, Linde perked up again a moment later, her tail flicking back and forth. H'aanit frowned at the sight, wondering what had caught her companion's attention. She heard footsteps from behind her, and when H'aanit turned, she saw a young girl standing before her. 

"Huntress H'aanit!" the girl cried out as she slowed to a stop in front of the hunter and her partner. Her brown hair rustled as she stopped her dash, and she began to run her fingers through it gently. 

H'aanit pulled her hand away from Linde slowly. "What is it?" she asked. There was something on edge about the girl's voice, and H'aanit found herself resisting the urge to reach for her bow and nock a few arrows. She was the one in charge of defense in the village, after all, and she wasn't about to slack on her duties after all this time. 

"The headman sent me to find thee," the girl explained. "He said he must speaketh with thee right away!"

H'aanit nodded. "Then I will make haste. He is at home, I take it?" she questioned. In a way, H'aanit was relieved for the next chance to focus on her duties rather than the fact that she still missed Z'aanta terribly. She was willing to take this for what it was without a beat of hesitation. 

"Yes! Follow me!" the girl cried out, her voice loud in her excitement. There was something else in her tone as well, though H'aanit struggled to fully judge what it was that had passed through the girl's mind with such an influence on her. 

As the girl dashed off in the direction of the headman's home, H'aanit shifted her gaze down to Linde. "An urgent hunt, mayhap?" she prompted of her partner. As expected, Linde did not answer beyond a simple flick of her tail, and before long H'aanit was walking in the girl's footsteps towards the headman's home. She moved at a decent clip while still remaining slow enough to ensure that she didn't crash into anyone along the way. 

The headman was standing outside his home, his expression dire and stony as he stared down at the ground below. He didn't even seem to notice that H'aanit had arrived, prompting her to speak first. "Headman. Ye wished to seen me?" she questioned of him even though she already knew the answer. 

The headman nodded as he looked up from the grass. "Yes. A request hath comen in from the demesne of Lord Ciaran," the headman replied. "It would seem a beast hath strayed into his provincial forest." He glanced over in the direction of the young girl that had brought H'aanit to him in the first place, and he gave her a small nod to dismiss her. The girl smiled up at him before pivoting on her heel and dashing away to continue going about her daily business. 

"And he will it gone," H'aanit concluded, crossing her arms over her chest. She knew loosely of Lord Ciaran, albeit not much. He was a noble with territory in the Woodlands. Supposedly, he had a manse near Victors Hollow and had a sway in the government within the nearby town of bustling activity. He also held territory closer to S'warkii, and if H'aanit had to guess, it was that nearby land that was giving Lord Ciaran so much trouble in the first place. 

The headman nodded once more. "Just so. He asketh for our best hunter," he told H'aanit. "And while Master Z'aanta is off on the hunt, that meaneth thee." 

H'aanit couldn't help but frown at the mention of Z'aanta. She knew that the headman was right, but it still bothered her in a quiet way that she was seeing traces of Z'aanta's prolonged absence every direction that she looked. It was because that day was the anniversary of Z'aanta's departure, she knew, but it bothered her regardless. 

However, she didn't say any of this, not one for showing her emotions to others. Z'aanta was open and jubilant when it came to what he felt, but H'aanit had been his opposite for as long as anyone could remember, and this moment was far from being an exception to such a rule. "Understood," she told the headman simply. 

"Always remember, H'aanit. Since times immemorial, ours has been a village of great hunters and huntresses," the headman began. "Yes, far and wide beyond the edges of the Darkwood, our home..."

H'aanit took a step forward and held one hand out to stop him. She had heard this tale at least two dozen times as well, and she could even quote its conclusion without missing a beat. "'The bards sangeth of our exploits, and all the realm lauded fair S'warkii as the home of the true hunter,'" H'aanit quoted. "Is that not how it went?"

The headman laughed and shook his head. "Have I told it that many times? Long-winded tales, my dear..." he remarked. 

"Are the vice of an old man, yes," H'aanit finished for him. "As for the hunt, I am ready when needed." H'aanit had learned to be prepared for a battle at a moment's notice. The monsters that lived in the area occasionally grew confident enough to launch attacks on S'warkii, and as the secondary heir to the Darkwood lore, H'aanit had to be prepared at every moment possible. She refused to slack off in her vow to Z'aanta that she would defend the village with everything he had, especially not on the one year anniversary of his departure for the great hunt. 

"Excellent. Lord Ciaran's messenger awaiteth inside. He will telleth thee all thou needst to know," the headman explained. He gestured to the nearby door to his house to show H'aanit that it was fine for her to enter. 

H'aanit nodded firmly. "I will speake to him at once," she assured him. She turned toward the building, one hand reaching out toward the knob. 

"H'aanit," came the voice of the headman just before she could enter the building. She turned to look at him over one shoulder. "Prithee doe naught Master Z'aanta would thee not."

H'aanit gave him one final nod before she turned away once more. "Thanke ye," she said simply. A moment later, she opened the door and walked inside, Linde ever on her heels. 

There was a single man waiting inside. He was sitting at the table in the entryway, his hands cupped around a mug of water that the headman had no doubt prepared for him. H'aanit slid into the seat across from the man quickly, and Linde settled down near her feet. The snow leopard's head remained perked up as she watched at the man silently. The man stared down at Linde before his gaze returned to H'aanit. He didn't ask questions regarding the snow leopard once he realized that H'aanit was unbothered by Linde's presence, instead taking this as his cue to get down to business. 

"My apologies for the urgency of the matter, but monsters pay little heed to the convenience of men," the herald began. He looked down for a moment, and his hat threatened to slip free of his disheveled hair that was no doubt left as such a mess thanks to the winds surrounding S'warkii. 

"I am here to serve. Tellen me more about this beast," H'aanit instructed of him. 

"Your quarry is to be a fearsome beast that has wandered into the Whisperwood from the gods know where," the messenger told her. 

"A monster that hath strayed from its home..." H'aanit murmured to herself, one hand rising to cup at her cheek. This was hardly anything out of the ordinary. Ecosystems were fragile things, and all it took was one action out of the ordinary for the balance to be destroyed. If this beast had come to the territory from its previous home, then it would undoubtedly cause a fuss as an invasive species, especially if it showed itself to be a predator to the other occupants of the forest. 

"Aye. Just this morning, a merchant and an injured companion fetched up at our manor in frightful state," the herald continued, his voice shaking just slightly from the recollection. If H'aanit had to guess, the messenger had witnessed this incident at the time, and that was the primary reason that it upset him to such a degree. "As one man told it--the other was in no condition to speak--their caravan had been waylaid by the beast, and they were the only survivors."

"How doth thou knowen this creature was responsible?" H'aanit questioned, never one to leave gaps in any story that she was being presented with. 

"Lord Ciaran's scholars were called upon to investigate the matter," the messenger told her. "From the merchant's testimony, they concluded the men were attacked by a savage beast known as a ghisarma."

H'aanit paused at these words. She had heard of ghisarmas in the past, and she knew that they did not belong anywhere near the Whisperwood. In fact, they were hardly fit to be found in the region of S'warkii or anywhere near to it. They were beasts native to the darkened woods near Victors Hollow, trees that all people were cautioned to avoid at all costs. The shadowy area was threatening at best and deadly at worst. The ghisarma would have had to travel quite a ways to arrive in the area of the Whisperwood, though H'aanit supposed that at times, it was impossible to stop a beast once it had set its mind on something. 

"I have hearde of this creature. Its baleful roar would make it an unlikely fit for the tranquil Whisperwood," H'aanit commented with a frown. 

The messenger nodded. "His lordship is most anxious to protect his subjects, needless to say," he told her. H'aanit knew that the Whisperwood was not far from the actual territory that Lord Ciaran looked after, and it would not be out of the realm of possibility for the ghisarma to break free of the trees and ravage anything that dared to stand in its path. It had nearly eviscerated an entire merchant caravan, and it was far from impossible to believe that it was capable of doing the same to an entire town. "He seeks the help of the most capable hunter in this village. And so, in Master Z'aanta's absence, we turn to you. What say you, H'aanit? Will you free our fair province of this unholy menace?"

"Tellen thy lord that I shan't faile him," H'aanit replied with a firm nod. She rose to her feet, and Linde did so as well. H'aanit began to move for the door, off to prepare for the hunt to come, when she was ultimately interrupted. 

"There is a dignity about you that Master Z'aanta lacks--but I see you share his passion for your calling," the messenger remarked, still firmly glued to his seat in the headman's home. "I hope you will continue to inherit only his better qualities."

H'aanit paused and turned in his direction. "Master is a fine teacher. He showeth by example what a hunter oughteth and oughteth not to doen," she told the man simply. With how long Z'aanta had been away, H'aanit even found herself missing his habits of gambling and immaturity. They had brought her and many others trouble in the past, but she still wished that she could speak with him even just briefly. His single letter was no longer sufficient, and it hadn't been for a long time. 

The herald was ignorant to her internal plight however, and he simply threw his head back in laughter. "Well said!" he agreed. "It would seem we are in safe hands indeed."

H'aanit nodded firmly. "Yes, thou art," she assured the man. From there, she pushed the door of the house open and walked out, Linde trailing ever behind her. 

H'aanit had learned to be prepared for a hunt at a moment's notice. As such, she already had her bow and axe on hand, though she was lacking in healing supplies. She had given out her last few grapes to the youths of the village after she had finished the day's round of training. They had gotten injured beyond what H'aanit initially anticipated primarily because of their inexperience and youthful overconfidence, prompting H'aanit to offer up her last few healing grapes to give them the chance to recover at a much faster clip. 

Luckily for her, it wouldn't be difficult for her to buy a few supplies. From there, all that mattered was getting to the Whisperwood and taking care of the ghisarma. The beast had disturbed the natural balance of the forest, and that was hardly something that H'aanit was going to allow it the chance to get away with. She was taking up the mantle as the primary hunter of the village, and she fully intended to show that this was something she was more than capable of doing. She had a job to fulfill and a duty to uphold. 

~~~~~

S'warkii was a small village tucked away within the trees, and if Alfyn didn't know better, he wouldn't have even noticed that it was there. It was more discreet than even Clearbrook, though it was much larger than his hometown. S'warkii was still small, but compared to Clearbrook, it might as well have been the largest cities on Orsterra. Everything was fashioned together in a way that made the village seem so perfectly put-together that it didn't even seem real. It was more like something out of a fairy tale in Alfyn's opinion, and he was immediately entranced by its beauty. 

"What exactly are we looking for here?" Therion questioned, shifting his gaze over to Ophilia. He had taken to crossing his arms, undoubtedly an instinctual motion that would limit the ability of the rest of the world to notice the fact that the fool's bangle was still jingling around beneath the fabric of his shirt. 

Ophilia didn't openly respond. She was too busy silently scanning the area, undoubtedly on the lookout for whatever it was that had pushed them in this direction. Alfyn had heard her say that it was a woman, though that was hardly descriptive enough to help Alfyn aid in the search. The rest of the group appeared to have joined her in looking around as well even if they weren't entirely sure what Ophilia was looking for in the first place. Alfyn simply shoved his hands in his pockets and looked over at the cleric patiently as a small wind blew through the area, rustling the hair resting at the base of his neck. 

When Ophilia finally stopped her scan of the area, her eyes were locked squarely on a huntress who was, quite frankly, the tallest woman that Alfyn had ever seen. His eyes went wide in simple shock at how overwhelmingly powerful she seemed to be. Everything about her screamed strength, and she was undoubtedly one of the most potent fighters within the village. In fact, Alfyn wouldn't have been surprised if she was one of the strongest battlers ever known to Orsterra. 

Ophilia walked over to the woman quickly. H'aanit had finished her business at the shop of the town and was on her way in the direction of the Whisperwood, though she stopped walking when she saw Ophilia appear before her. H'aanit raised an eyebrow in Ophilia's direction, clearly awaiting an answer and an explanation for what was happening. Instead, Ophilia simply cleared her throat and smiled gently. It seemed that she knew even less about what to do with the huntress compared to even her experiences with Therion. "Hello," Ophilia greeted casually. 

"Who mighteth thou be?" H'aanit asked, giving a brief glance over the rest of the party. She had clearly caught onto the fact that they were not from S'warkii. As H'aanit's gaze fell upon Alfyn, he felt like he was going to melt into the ground. She was so serious that it was almost nauseating to see. Alfyn gave her a nervous smile that seemed to be at risk of falling apart at the seams, but he did his best to seem composed regardless. 

"My name is Ophilia," the cleric greeted with a bow of her head. "This is the rest of my traveling company. We're moving through town before we set our sights elsewhere. What would your name be?"

The huntress continued to silently analyze Ophilia's actions for a long moment before she relaxed ever so slightly. "Thou may call me H'aanit. I am a hunter of S'warkii, off to resolven a conflict through the hunt," she replied, her voice still solemn and even. "Is there something thou requires of me?"

Ophilia hesitated at those words, seemingly struggling in full to phrase what she wanted to get across. Luckily for her, Primrose came to her rescue, stepping in front of Ophilia with a charming smile that tasted a lot like a lie spreading across her lips. "We would like to join you on your quest, if you would have us," Primrose told H'aanit simply. "We know how to fight, and if you're in search of assistance, we would be more than happy to provide it."

Ophilia's expression was overcome with relief at Primrose's interference, though H'aanit either didn't notice or was choosing to not openly acknowledge it. "Thine intentions remain unclear. If thou truly wishes to joineth the hunt however, I will not protest. We depart at once," she told the group. There was something about her gaze that still caught Alfyn off guard, though he didn't vocalize anything about it. Instead, he simply swallowed dryly and nodded. 

H'aanit began to walk away soon afterward, and Ophilia gave Primrose a quick glance of gratitude before trailing after her. The rest of the group followed in the wake of H'aanit and Ophilia's departure, Alfyn included. He had a feeling that H'aanit was the woman that Ophilia had been trying so desperately to find, and Alfyn was glad that they had been able to help her reach such a goal. He still didn't entirely understand what was going through Ophilia's head to begin with, but he supposed that he would figure it out soon enough. Ophilia wasn't going to be able to remain cryptic and detached forever, after all. 

~~~~~

H'aanit was a stoic woman, but beneath that, there was kindness. 

That was Primrose's initial theory, at the very least. Her skills in comprehending others had come in handy before, and they were certainly offering her valuable information about the solemn huntress that the group had temporarily teamed up with. Temporarily seemed to be a lie from the start though; Ophilia seemed silently set on having H'aanit join the rest of the group permanently as they continued their adventure, though Primrose still wasn't entirely certain as to if that was going to happen. It didn't seem as if H'aanit had much of a reason to leave S'warkii behind. 

H'aanit had explained her story simply enough. She was a huntress and the current defender of the village. Her master had left on an important mission a year prior, and she was the one left behind to take care of her people. The mission in question would have the group facing off against a ghisarma, a terrifying beast that had the ability to slaughter all in its path. 

Primrose secretly preferred this though. She was glad to be fighting against monsters rather than men, though she supposed that there was always the potential for humans to be the real beasts all along. She had seen and heard more than enough of dreadful humans as of late, and that was when she set aside her grief regarding Yusufa's death. The constant activity and motion had left Primrose with minimal abilities to take a deep breath and recognize all that had happened. The night of Yusufa's death, she had done all that she could to ensure that her friend rested well, but ever since then, life had presented itself with convenient distractions to keep her from thinking. It was as if Sunshade was a lifetime ago while S'warkii was the only present that she had ever known. 

"This ghisarma thing..." came the voice of Tressa, prompting Primrose to turn in her direction. The young merchant's voice was shaking, though she was doing her best to shove the fear aside in the name of outward bravery. "You said that it slaughtered an entire merchant caravan, right? Are we sure that it's safe for us to even be fighting it in the first place?"

"The ghisarma is a dangerous beast, and it belongeth not in this part of the forest," H'aanit told Tressa, not even turning her head over her shoulder to address the younger girl. "Its presence disrupteth the balance of the land, and it must be hunted to restoren peace."

"The Whisperwood seems to be a pretty dark place," Alfyn remarked with a whistle that barely managed to push itself out among the tension of his distressed smile. "Maybe that's why the ghisarma decided to come here. Not many people would want to travel through this part of the forest, huh?"

"I believe that the Whisperwood has occasionally been used as a trade route," Cyrus told him. "That would certainly explain why there were merchants here to begin with. The ghisarma is not meant to be here though... I recall doing some brief research on the beasts. They are weakened by thunder magic and are regularly found in the area near Victors Hollow. This dark companion of ours has strayed quite far from its regular domain."

"Precisely," H'aanit nodded simply. "The natural balance of the forest is at riske under the ghisarma's power. Many creatures of the land, not simply men, can see harme because of the beast. Caution is prudent for all as we pressen onward."

Primrose nodded to herself. The path to the Whisperwood had grown darker since they initially set out from S'warkii even if they had yet to arrive at their destination. The Ember glowed dutifully from its place in Ophilia's Lanthorn. H'aanit hadn't yet asked about it, though Primrose suspected that it was only a matter of time. There was quite a bit that she had to be caught up on, though Primrose knew that she was far from innocent in such a manner. 

Primrose saw something rustling out of the corner of her eye, and she reached for her dagger on instinct. She had learned to believe that if something was messing around in a bush, it was undoubtedly a monster, and she wasn't about to drop her guard yet. She was about to pivot in the direction of the beast to dispatch of their would-be assailant, but she was ultimately interrupted by H'aanit doing something in a similar vein. 

H'aanit had nocked an arrow on her bow, and in the blink of an eye, she sent an attack flying. Her accuracy was perfect, and the beast hidden inside the bushes let out a shrill shriek of pain before the rustling came to a halt. From there, about four other monsters broke free of their hiding places, undoubtedly seeking to avenge their fallen companion, but H'aanit was already prepared, reaching for her axe to fend them off. 

Primrose whispered a spell of dark magic under her breath, stunning the monster closest to her. Therion rushed toward it soon afterward, his dagger outstretched threateningly. The creatures were green and brown for the most part, easily blending in with the surroundings of the darkened Woodlands, but the travelers were still doing their best to fight back in the limited lighting from the overhead sky and the Ember in Ophilia's grasp. 

Cyrus snapped his fingers before releasing an attack of fiery magic in the direction of two of the monsters. The creatures were forced backward by a few feet, leaving a perfect gap in their defenses for Olberic to rush forward and slash his blade sideways at both of them. Ophilia followed up on Cyrus' strike with a single blast of thunder magic that felled one of the beasts. Alfyn followed up with his axe to defeat the second of the creatures. 

Primrose glanced in the direction of the two monsters that remained. Tressa had hit one of them with a blast of wind magic to push it backward, and H'aanit was still fighting with the beast that had rushed at her. Alfyn moved in Tressa's direction with his axe shining in the limited light, and he dealt a single blow that sent the creature to the ground. Primrose used a single attack of dark magic to ensure that the creature wouldn't be causing any other problems. 

H'aanit, on the other hand, had turned her attention toward her quarry. The beast had suffered significant damages and was struggling to stand. H'aanit closed her eyes and whispered something beneath her breath, and the beast ran off in the opposite direction. She watched as the monster left the scene behind, her gaze locked squarely on the bush that the creature had been consumed by. All eyes were on her in confusion, searching for an explanation as to why she had let the creature escape after it had lashed out. 

"What was that all about?" Tressa questioned, using her bold confidence to her advantage as she walked over in H'aanit's direction. She was still holding tightly to her spear to make sure that she was defended in case of another attack against the team. 

"The lore of the forest presenteth me with the strength to callen upon beasts in battle," H'aanit explained. "If thou hath need of him, he will returnen. Such skills could proven useful in the battle against the ghisarma." She didn't elaborate beyond that, and Primrose assumed that H'aanit was referring to the Darkwood lore that H'aanit had mentioned in passing when speaking of the mission at hand. Apparently, it was one of the reasons that H'aanit had been selected for this mission on top of her natural strength. 

H'aanit kept walking without any hesitation after that, and Primrose couldn't help the smile that spread across her lips. H'aanit was a powerful fighter, and there was no way that anyone could even come close to denying such a fact. If Primrose was being honest, she found H'aanit to be one of the most impressive battlers that she had ever crossed paths with. It seemed as if the huntress was simply full of surprises, and Primrose couldn't help but feel as if that was something she needed more than she was willing to admit openly to the rest of the group. 

Primrose kept one eye on H'aanit as their journey continued. A bitter voice in the back of her mind reminded her that she had found Yusufa to be full of surprises to the end as well, and something in Primrose's stomach twisted with sudden, dreadful brutality. Primrose had seen more than enough bloodshed in her time, but she couldn't seem to shake the image of Yusufa's death from her mind. Once again, she felt as if there was blood crusted beneath her fingertips even though she knew better than to know that was the truth. Primrose stared at her hands in the most nonchalant way that she could manage, though she knew that Therion was staring at her. She could feel his piercing gaze from nearby, but Primrose didn't have the nerve to turn around and face him. All of a sudden, the wind of the woods seemed all too similar to the winds of grief and sorrow that had blown into her life the moment that Helgenish reached for his knife. 

Primrose had never been the type to put down roots. She didn't want to slip into anything that would hurt her in the long term, especially when she was concentrated on such an important mission as avenging her father by murdering his killers. Even so, her own precautions hadn't been able to save her from the overwhelming grief that had come with Yusufa's death. Yusufa's murder had been her fault in the first place, hadn't it? This was what happened when she allowed herself to get attached. No matter how interesting she found H'aanit or anyone else to be, she couldn't fall into that trap ever again. She had made that mistake once already, she refused to allow history to repeat itself. 

Despite these thoughts though, Primrose knew that there was something inside of her that was shifting. She felt something akin to care toward the rest of the group as well, and that wasn't something that she could deny. She hadn't expected to grow close with them so soon, but she couldn't outrun the fact of the matter. She was getting attached once again, and Primrose found herself making a mental note to resolve this issue before it could grow worse. It would be best for everyone that way. 

The Woodlands continued to sprawl before Primrose in an endless cycle, but she didn't notice it until after H'aanit held up a hand to stop everyone. They were on the edge of the Whisperwood, it seemed. In other words, they were getting closer to their destination. Primrose did her best to shove all thoughts of grief, attachment, and fear to the back of her mind. After all, she had another mission to focus on, and she couldn't get distracted, even if the distractions were people themselves.

Chapter Text

To Ophilia, it sounded as if the trees of the Whisperwood were singing. 

She had never been anywhere outside of Flamesgrace after she was initially taken there by her adoptive father. It wasn't that she had to stay there all the time; she simply didn't wish to leave, content with her life and not seeing much of a reason to explore the world. Flamesgrace was safe and comforting, everything that the world just outside the town's boundaries was not. Her journey to retrieve the Ember had been her first true act of defiance in a life lived solely for the purpose of the church, and the ensuing adventure was her first time seeing the world at large outside of the distance between the remnants of her childhood home and the place that she would live for the next set number of years. 

And yet, Ophilia found herself fascinated with the world around her in the Whisperwood specifically. Part of her wondered how she had ever managed to keep herself so secluded and isolated from everything else to begin with. The Whisperwood truly was beautiful, each tree seeming to bend so perfectly in the breeze. It was like the environment itself was coming together to contribute a perfect picture of something graceful and awe-inspiring, and Ophilia was left with little more to do than simply stare at it all. 

H'aanit had mentioned the balance of the forest a few times as the group set off on their travels, and Ophilia was starting to understand what she had meant by that. This was a beautiful place, and its tranquility deserved to be protected. The Whisperwood was incredible, the first environment to ever strike Ophilia silent since she first arrived in the Frostlands at Josef's side what felt like a lifetime ago. The song of the trees and grass and everything in between seemed to soothe her in ways that she hadn't thought possible. She wondered if perhaps the area had been named the Whisperwood because of the way that the environment seemed to come together to form a choir, different plants singing alto, tenor, and bass while the breeze came through with a delicate soprano melody. This was the theory that Ophilia was sticking to for the time being regardless of how correct it is, and she found herself smiling at the mere thought of it all. 

The rest of the group, on the other hand, didn't seem to be as infatuated with the natural beauty of the space. Therion's expression was as deadpan and emotionless as it had been when he first found himself as part of the group, and Olberic was doing his best to concentrate on the mission. Tressa and Alfyn stared at small plants with Alfyn wondering how potent they would be in terms of medicine. Cyrus' eyes seemed to dart everywhere as he tried to absorb as much as he could visually from the area as possible. He was undoubtedly preparing to engage in some type of research because of his curiosity, though it was far from the awestruck wonder that Ophilia felt. 

The only one who could even somewhat compare to what Ophilia was experiencing was Primrose, though she still didn't seem to be able to comprehend it in full. Her hand remained on her dagger the whole time, ready to rip the blade from its sheath at a moment's notice in case she had to jab it in the direction of an attacking monster. Ophilia found something inside of her heart overwhelmed with sadness at the sight of Primrose's hyperactive sense of vigilance. She could tell that there was something that had pushed Primrose in this direction, and she wished that there was something she could do to help. 

All things considered, Ophilia thought that she knew the least about Primrose. Her destination was Stillsnow, apparently, and that was one of the closest towns to where they were at present. On top of that, her goal seemed to be time sensitive, though unlike Therion, that didn't manifest in the form of glares like knives. Instead, she simply never seemed to be able to calm herself, like there was constantly an itch that she couldn't scratch no matter how hard she tried. It seemed as if the group would be at Stillsnow soon enough given its proximity to S'warkii, but that did little to calm Primrose's raging nerves, it seemed. 

Ophilia didn't even know what Primrose was trying to accomplish. In every other case, she knew what their team's members were trying to do, but Primrose remained a mystery. Helgenish hadn't exactly helped in revealing the truth behind Primrose's ambitions before he got a knife to the chest, and Yusufa didn't show any signs of understanding either. Primrose was a secretive woman, and it most certainly showed. She knew how to keep certain matters quiet if she didn't want anyone to find out about them, and unfortunately, that was going to keep Ophilia from finding the answers that she was seeking. She was going to find a way to reveal the truth soon enough, she was sure, but she had no idea how such a thing was going to happen. 

"We aren almost at our destination," H'aanit suddenly declared, and Ophilia perked up. She had been so concentrated on her own thoughts that she didn't even notice that the group was on the verge of entering the heart of the forest. The primary source of light in the area was Ophilia's Lanthorn, and she gripped the handle a little bit tighter. The ghisarma was undoubtedly at the core of the forest where the light was least prominent. Cyrus had mentioned that he heard these beasts enjoyed the darkness, and H'aanit had confirmed such a fact. 

Ophilia wasn't looking forward to facing off against the beast, though she supposed that none of the members of their group were. Beyond that though, there was something else that caught her attention as a subject of unease. It didn't seem as if H'aanit had a reason to leave behind the village of S'warkii. Ophilia felt as if she had to find a way to convince H'aanit to travel with the rest of the party before they left the town behind, but she didn't know how she was going to accomplish such a thing. H'aanit was content where she was, and Ophilia didn't want to simply drag her away from her home. She would feel awful about even attempting something of that nature. 

Simultaneously though, Ophilia knew that H'aanit had to join them somehow. The more that she thought about it, the more confident she was in such a concept. It was ridiculous, in its own special way, that she wanted to do all of this to begin with. The voice that had spoken to her through the Ember had made it clear that this was the path that she had to follow though, and Ophilia had seen no reason to distrust the Ember's decisions in the past. After all, they had led her to the other members of the group, and these connections were sure to last a lifetime. She knew that she was getting attached quickly, but at the same time, she simply knew this to be the case. It came as naturally to her as breathing. 

But there were so many unanswered questions that she had. Who was this woman that was trying to get into contact with her through the Ember in the first place? Why had this voice never surfaced to her beforehand? If it had something to do with her being the Flamebearer, had it happened to past clerics on the Kindling? Ophilia was looking for anything that would answer these questions, but she didn't know if there was a way to hear the truth. She didn't even know how to explain these sudden odd occurrences to her traveling companions. What would she even say if she tried? The words stubbornly refused to form, and they likely wouldn't make much sense even if she did get them out by some stroke of a miracle. 

Even if Ophilia had wanted to speak such a thought process though, she wouldn't have been given the chance. The smell of something rancid and disgusting reached her nose, and Ophilia recoiled as she raised one hand to pinch her nostrils tight. She had no reason to ask what the source of the scent was; after all, she knew the stench of blood better than anything else. 

The Whisperwood had devolved to being dark enough that the Ember was the only sign of light, and the gentle white flame offered a limited view of the general region. Ophilia felt as if she was going to be sick at the sight of crimson staining the shaded grass. There were bodies scattered about, and if Ophilia had to guess, she would have assumed that they were members of the merchant convoy that had been almost completely annihilated by the ghisarma. There were a few wolves, undoubtedly inhabitants of the forest, scattered amidst the human forms. Ophilia's head suddenly hurt with something splitting at the base of her skull, and part of her feared that she was going to lose her footing and collapse to the ground in her sickness. 

"Spirits haven mercy..." H'aanit murmured under her breath as she examined the area. She seemed to have already noticed that all of the merchants and wolves were already long dead, so there was no point to trying to find any survivors. "This was not done in the name of survival. The ghisarma sought not food. It sought sport and wanton slaughter."

"How truly grotesque..." Cyrus remarked. He had chosen to look away from the scene, and he seemed to be a bit paler than usual. He had never seemed to enjoy the sight of blood. None of them had a reason to like it, of course, but Cyrus' response seemed particularly strong in its negativity. 

"They didn't have a way of defending themselves. It was bound to end in tragedy from the start," Primrose murmured. She didn't seem to be as bothered by the sight as other members of the group, and she crouched beside one of the fallen merchants with her eyes narrowed in unspoken grief. The merchant had dark hair cut short to her face in a style that was all too familiar and reminded the earlier members of the group of tragedy taking place amidst desert sands. Ophilia recognized the look in Primrose's eyes as grief, and it didn't take long for her to recognize that Primrose was at least somewhat projecting her sorrow regarding Yusufa onto the merchants that had been defeated in such a dreadful way. 

"The ghisarma killed these men and beasts simply as a show of power," Olberic commented. One of his hands remained firm on the hilt of his blade, ready to pull it free of its sheath in the blink of an eye if the need was provided. Ophilia found herself preparing passively for combat as well; she hardly wanted to meet the same fate as the merchants and wolves, so she had to be ready. 

The group was silenced by the sound of footsteps on the grass, and Ophilia could have sworn that she felt her heart stop in her chest for a few fleeting moments. She only allowed herself to breathe once again when she saw that the cause of the noise was not the ghisarma at all. The new arrivals lacked the dreadful size and horrifying shape of the forest's intruder. 

Instead, the two creatures that had arrived on the scene were wolves. They were dark gray in color, undoubtedly of the same species as the wolves that had been slain by the ghisarma. Ophilia could see them only barely in the light that the Ember cast, but that was more than enough for H'aanit, who watched them with a careful gaze. She wasn't at all frightened, and her easy stance allowed the rest of the group to relax as well. 

"They're shaking," Tressa murmured, and Ophilia noticed that she was right. The wolves were trembling ever so slightly, though the motion was so minimal that it seemed to almost completely blend in with the shadows around them. Ophilia felt her heart shatter in her chest, and she wished that there was something more she that she could do. 

"Thou witnessedst what the beast did. It madeth thee bear witness," H'aanit murmured under her breath. Her eyes were still locked firmly on the wolves, and she didn't move at all aside from her gentle patterns of speech. Even Linde was motionless at the side of her hunting partner. 

H'aanit contemplated her words for a long moment before she took a step forward, and Ophilia stared at her in caution, almost afraid of what she might find when H'aanit moved. The huntress' voice was gentle and deliberate when she spoke once again, a far cry from the regular stoicism that she displayed. "Patience. I shall returne and attende to the fallen," H'aanit told the wolves evenly. "But first, they shallen be avenged." One of the wolves moved towards her, and H'aanit looked down at it carefully. "Wilt thou protect them, friend, until my return?" H'aanit was quiet for a moment, almost as if she was expecting an answer, before she nodded. "Thanke thee. I shall returne anon."

H'aanit began to walk around the bodies a moment later, Linde on her heels. Neither of the wolves made any moves to lash out at H'aanit or Linde as they passed by. The rest of the travelers began to trail behind her hesitantly, and Ophilia could have sworn that she saw even Therion was somewhat rattled by what he had seen at the entrance to the area, not that he was bothering to openly show it. She pulled the Ember a little bit closer for the sake of her own comfort before she joined the rest of her party, something nervous and paranoid starting to rise in her chest. Somehow, she felt even worse about the ghisarma situation than she did before, and she didn't even realize that was possible. 

~~~~~

H'aanit knew the way of the forest better than any other. Living in S'warkii had given her the chance to understand all that happened under the influence of the land, and the cycle of life and death was something she was all too familiar with. Prey were eaten by predators, and those predators ultimately became prey themselves to those who were stronger. It was how the natural world had progressed since the age of the gods. Creatures fought for the sake of their own health. They defended themselves and their territory if need be while attaining the food that they sought. 

But the ghisarma was different. It killed countless living creatures for its own pleasure, uncaring as to what the truth of the world meant. It was taking more than it needed, and it was dragging down every other living creature along with it. This was no longer simply about Lord Ciaran's request; it was just as much being done for the sake of the forest's stability. The ghisarma's very presence in the forest was an intrusion, and H'aanit was going to do what she could to resolve this matter and find the justice that was necessary for the other occupants of the Whisperwood. 

"I hunte to save the forest itself," H'aanit murmured. Her words were soft, and no other member of the company seemed to notice. That was fine with H'aanit, and she focused on continuing to move in the direction of her quarry. 

The entire group fell silent in the aftermath of the gruesome sight that they had been met with. Nobody seemed to want to risk speaking and potentially wind up poking the beast that was the ghisarma. If they pushed anything too hard, they were bound to wind up hurt. It seemed as if the Whisperwood itself was terrified of the ghisarma, and the gentle whisper of the wind through the trees had gone completely quiet. The song of the forest had disappeared, leaving behind nothing more than an empty space and too much silence for it to be comfortable in the slightest. 

The other creatures that lived in the Whisperwood refused to leave their homes behind either. They were all in hiding because of the ghisarma, it seemed, and they didn't want to risk jumping out from their cover and winding up the newest victims of the beast. H'aanit could hardly blame them. The ghisarma wanted nothing more than to show off its strength by tearing other creatures to pieces, and it was natural to not want to fall victim to such a thing. Her hand remained firmly placed at the side of her bow as she continued walking, ready to pull the weapon free of its home to fire an arrow at the first sight of the ghisarma. 

The only sound that reached H'aanit's ears throughout the rest of their journey was the noise that came with shoes hitting the grass below. The Ember was the only source of light, and the forest seemed almost intrigued by what the newcomers were going to be doing. H'aanit kept her lips still, but she made a silent promise to the land around her that she was going to do what she could to bring it salvation. She had already told the wolves that she would be back to bury the dead from the ghisarma's last slaughter, and she fully intended on doing so. It wasn't just the merchant at Lord Ciaran's manse that had been left traumatized by the beast; the forest itself was struggling after what it had been left a witness to. 

The silence seemed to grow heavy as the group grew closer to their destination, and at some point, there was a shift like the snap of a finger to show that they were on the verge of arriving before the ghisarma. H'aanit was far from being the only one to catch onto it; the other members of the group all grew tense, and they reached for their weapons, ready to lash out at a moment's notice if they saw reason to strike. The ghisarma was close, and they could all feel it. 

H'aanit pulled her bow free of its home on her back, and she nocked an arrow after reaching for her quiver. The moment that she was given the chance, she was going to send the arrow flying. This was hardly going to be an easy hunt, and any advantage that she could grant herself would be both much needed and appreciated. 

A gentle whimper could be heard from nearby, but it hardly sounded human. H'aanit took a few cautious steps forward, and her eyes went wide. The light from the Ember was cast upon another pair of corpses belonging to wolves of the Woodlands. There were three wolves nearby, all of them prepared for combat in the face of something that was obviously beyond terrifying. H'aanit already knew what it was that she was going to be finding, and the unholy roar that pierced the air only proved her theory.

H'aanit released her arrow a moment later, and it struck the paw of the ghisarma. "That is enough," she declared. She dashed to the sides of the wolves, the rest of the travelers in hot pursuit alongside Linde. The wolves once again chose to not lash out at the group, understanding that the time had come for them to act as allies in the face of their foe. The sound of a wolf whimpering once again reached H'aanit's ears.

As the light from the Ember spread to be able to reach the ghisarma, H'aanit narrowed her eyes. The beast was covered in dark and stringy hair, though there were a few patches where its purplish pink skin could be seen, such as on its legs. Its eyes were red and crazed, and its tail flicked dangerously behind it, the clear sign that it was about to strike. Saliva dripped down from between its teeth, landing ominously on the grass below. The beast was perched on a higher ledge, giving it the full ability to look down on those who it believed would become its prey. 

H'aanit glanced briefly in the direction of the wolves standing at her side. Everything fell silent for a long moment, and H'aanit's eyes did all that they had to in order to communicate her point. The leading wolf offered one final whimper in her direction before dashing away, its two companion bounding after it. H'aanit watched them go before she turned her attention back to the ghisarma. 

She remained unflinching even in the face of yet another mighty roar from the ghisarma. "Thou scarest me not, beast," she told it firmly. She was quiet for a long moment before she spoke once more. "Is it not so? Thou wert driven from thine home. Bested by a beast more powerful, thou fledst and foundest thyself here. I understande thy pain all too well." H'aanit shook her head, not allowing her own quiet thoughts to get the best of her in the face of something that was undoubtedly dangerous. "But to turnen thy grief and anger against innocent creatures... That is a sin of men. It was thy duty to adapten to the forest, to letten it finden a place for you... Instead, thou wouldst rippen out its heart and claim it as thine own. This cannot be forgiven."

The ghisarma roared once again, and H'aanit reached for an arrow before leveling her bow in the creature's direction. Behind her, the rest of her companions were too stunned to speak, uncertain as to how she was finding the strength to be so bold in the face of such a beast to begin with, but H'aanit paid them no heed, knowing there were more important matters for her to concentrate on. "Thou hast trespassed, beast," she said bluntly. "And in the name of the forest, I visite justice upon thee!" She released her second arrow straight at the ghisarma. 

The beast rose to the bait just as H'aanit anticipated, and it lunged down from its place atop the grassy cliffside. The rest of the travelers all took steps back on pure instinct, understanding the danger that this creature could visit upon them, but H'aanit remained firm and motionless. She reached for another arrow instead. The ghisarma was hardly going to be falling easily, and she was bound to need the aid of the rest of the party. She knew that they were going to be standing at her side the whole way through, but she still wanted to open the battle with a distraction of her own against the ghisarma to ensure that it didn't lash out immediately. 

H'aanit was successful in making contact with the arrow attack, and it seemed to do a significant amount of damage to the beast. In fact, the ghisarma seemed actively rattled by the hit. H'aanit knew that there were some monsters that were weaker to some attacks compared to others, and it seemed as if the ghisarma was heavily impacted by arrows. It undoubtedly had other weaknesses though; it simply had to have other sensitive spots. If it was only weak to arrows, then it was going to be hard for anyone aside from her or Tressa to deal the damage that they needed to. 

Cyrus let out a hum under his breath and nodded to himself. "The beast appears to be weak to ice magic! That is what its posture seems to imply," he declared. "Many creatures in this region are weak to thunder magic as well, so that could be something else for us to try. Since it is inclined to remain in darker spaces, light magic will undoubtedly be effective against it too. Keep that in mind as we continue the battle, everyone!"

H'aanit didn't know how Cyrus was able to find that piece of information about the ice magic weakness so quickly, but she supposed that it was hardly any of her business. The ice magic was going to have to stay in the hands of Ophilia, Cyrus, and Alfyn since H'aanit couldn't use it even if she wanted to. H'aanit did, however, know how to utilize thunder magic, though it was less effective than simply attacking with her bow. She nocked another arrow and sent it flying, and a subsequent arrow strike followed a moment later from none other than Tressa. 

Linde lunged forward, scratching at the ghisarma with one fierce claw. The leopard had retreated before the ghisarma could lash out at her again, so the ghisarma instead turned its attention in the direction of the rest of the group. It swept one claw forward, and H'aanit's eyes went wide. She reached for her axe before she raised it to block the attack. 

Unfortunately, not all of the other members of the group were lucky enough to endure such a rough strike. Olberic and Alfyn were able to raise their own weapons in time to block the attack, but Cyrus and Ophilia were knocked off their feet entirely. Therion was sent sliding backward before slamming into the trunk of the nearest tree a good five yards away, and he was grasping at his stomach with the arm that wasn't keeping his weapon balanced. Primrose had sustained a notable gash across her left leg, and she was switching her weight to her right side to make sure that she didn't hurt herself more than she already had. 

As she shifted her balance though, Primrose flicked one hand out in the direction of the beast. A moment later, icy magic burst free of her fingers, building upon itself before it slammed into the ghisarma. The beast roared in pain before it halted its path at a secondary attack. Cyrus and Ophilia glanced over at Primrose in surprise, no doubt surprised that she was capable of such a thing despite having never shown signs of it before. "I've been watching you two cast those spells for a while," she said simply, not offering any other explanations. 

With the ghisarma temporarily downed, H'aanit nocked another arrow and sent it flying with as much force as she had. The arrow spiraled before slamming into the ghisarma's front leg, instantly weakening the creature's sense of balance. The beast screamed in pain, but it was unable to find its sense of balance once again. Tressa limped into view before she sent an arrow of her own out, and H'aanit realized that she had twisted her ankle in an attempt to get away from the attack of the ghisarma a few moments prior. 

Ophilia was able to get to her feet in the moments where H'aanit and Tressa had the ghisarma distracted, and once she was back to her full heigh, she pressed her hands together and released an attack of light magic. Cyrus followed suit a moment later with his icy powers, and the beast was hit twice from his attack. Alfyn sent out a second icy attack, though it lacked the punch that Ophilia and Cyrus' magical abilities possessed. 

Olberic rushed toward the creature and slashed his sword at the creature, worsening the injury that H'aanit and Tressa had already created on one of its legs. The ghisarma shrieked once again, and blood gushed crimson and hot free of the wound. H'aanit wasn't shaken by the bloodshed due to her career, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tressa and Cyrus both making an active effort to not look at the wound in full. 

Primrose was the next to strike with an icy attack of her own, and she was only barely able to get it off before the ghisarma returned to its state of preparedness. The beast was undoubtedly injured because of the wound to its front leg, and it refused to put weight on the injured limb as it lifted its other claw and sent an attack out. Briefly, the creature appeared bipedal, but nobody had the chance to process such a fact. 

The claw strike came with just as much force and desperation as the previous one had, but this time around, H'aanit and Olberic did all that they could to defend the rest of the party from the full damages of the attack. Tressa released a blast of wind magic in the ghisarma's direction, and while this didn't fully stop the beast from lashing out, it didn't force the ghisarma back by a few precious feet, the difference between damage and salvation. 

The ghisarma recovered quickly though, turning around and sending a quick swipe of its tail out in the direction of the group. Tressa's legs were swept out from her, and Alfyn winced at the contact to his own calves. H'aanit raised her axe and brought it down on the beast's tail when it strayed too close to her, and the ghisarma's attack immediately stopped. 

Despite the bruises that were undoubtedly forming on his legs, Alfyn moved in Tressa's direction and worked on hauling her back to her feet. Tressa stumbled a bit at first before managing to find her sense of balance again. Meanwhile, Cyrus, Ophilia, and Primrose got to work with the magic that they had at their disposal, and the ghisarma was left too distracted by their attacks to bother lashing out at the rest of the group. 

H'aanit nocked yet another arrow as Linde fell into a combat ready position once again. The fight was nearing its conclusion, but that didn't mean that they could be merciful or lose their sense of caution. A cornered beast was the most dangerous, something H'aanit had learned years prior. Care was beyond important, but H'aanit could tell that the ghisarma was growing weaker. All she had to do was ensure that the battle finished, and she had full confidence that she would be able to do such a thing in no time. 

Chapter Text

Ophilia sent out an attack of light magic, closely followed up by a hit of ice from Primrose's direction. Olberic managed to get in one other slash of his sword as Linde pounced at the ghisarma. The overwhelming number of attacks managed to send the ghisarma back into its stunned state once again. H'aanit concentrated her energy and raised one hand above her head, bringing down a bird figure made of thunder. The lightning magic slammed into the ghisarma, and the beast let out an unholy shriek of pain. 

Cyrus was the next to release a strike, this time a two-hitting attack of thunder magic. Alfyn used his ice magic as Tressa nocked an arrow and sent it flying. She struck the ghisarma in the face, and blood began to rush hot and red from the creature's wound. Primrose lashed out with a dagger attack, and H'aanit prepared another arrow. She could tell that the ghisarma was reaching the end of its strength at long last. 

Behind the rest of the group, Therion was still slumped against the ground from his hit against one of the trees. The ghisarma's first attack had sent him flying, and he couldn't bring himself to rise to his feet again no matter how hard he tried to get to his feet. When he attempted to push up, he felt a white hot flash of pain cross over his torso, and he let out a hiss of pain. It felt as if his body was on the verge of falling apart, and something in the back of his head pounded. Despite his best attempts to get up and keep fighting, he simply couldn't do it. Therion snarled and slammed his fist against the ground in vain, knowing that it would do nothing but releasing his agitated energy by that method anyways. 

Olberic was able to get out one final strike of notable strength with his sword before H'aanit jumped into the air, her arrow ready to be sent flying. The ghisarma, still dazed as could be, looked at her with something like panic in its eyes. H'aanit didn't give it the chance to fight back, releasing her arrow instead and watching as it found a snug home against the ghisarma's chest. 

The beast remained standing for another handful of moments before its legs crumpled from beneath it. The ghisarma let out one final shriek of agony before falling silent, the quiet of the forest coming in to practically suffocate the travelers at the heart of the Whisperwood. All seven of the fighters who were still standing looked up at the ghisarma in surprise, just to make sure that it wasn't still moving. The forest was quiet for another handful of long moments before the breeze returned, and H'aanit could have sworn that she heard nature starting to sing once again. This time though, the song was one of grief and loss, a requiem for those who had fallen at the hands of the mighty beast. 

H'aanit allowed her bow to drop to her side, and she closed her eyes in the direction of the ghisarma. "Thy life is given not in vain, for it will feeden others," she said softly, though she knew that it would be little reassurance to the dead. "Thou art of the forest now, and in the forest, naught is lost."

With H'aanit's words of serene peace, the area fell silent. The sound of gentle footsteps eventually came to permeate the air, and the pair of wolves from before appeared in view once again. They looked down at the ghisarma's body as they grew nearer to their foe, silent as could be. H'aanit turned and began to walk away, her bow finding a home once again on her back. Linde trailed after her hunting partner, the tip of her tail flicking back and forth the same way that it always did. The rest of the travelers remained focused on the ghisarma's corpse, almost as if they halfway expected the beast to get up once again and start attacking with the immense brutality it had displayed in life. Despite these expectations though, nothing happened, and the silence yet remained evermore. 

H'aanit glanced over her shoulder to the wolves and the rest of her companions. "Comen, my friends. This life belongeth to all," she declared. "The animals that eateth the grass becometh food for the animals that eateth meat. The eaters of meat in their turn feedeth those yet stronger. And when the strongest of all dieth, his life is returned to the forest. His flesh feedeth the soil, the grass... His blood becometh sap, his bones wood... He becometh the food of the plant eaters, and the circle beginneth once more..." H'aanit paused as she turned to Linde, reaching one hand out for her leopard companion to draw nearer. She stroked at the top of Linde's head, and the feline nuzzled her body closer to H'aanit once more. "Lives entwined, a tapestry woven anew each dawn, every thread a part of the whole."

As she spoke those words, H'aanit found her gaze drifting in the direction of the rest of the party at large. They were all looking back at her from their places in the light of the Ember, and H'aanit couldn't help but smile. She didn't know what it was that made her feel as if all of this made sense as long as she was there with them, but that most certainly appeared to be the case. For the first time that day--for the first time since recognizing the anniversary of Z'aanta's departure--H'aanit felt whole, and she didn't ever want the sensation to abandon her again. 

Z'aanta had been the one to teach her such lessons to begin with. His words remained an echo in her mind even so long after she had first heard them. For all of his charming and irritating habits alike, Z'aanta truly was a splendid hunter, and H'aanit did not believe that she would be half the woman she was today if not for his words. She closed her eyes as she absorbed the beauty of the moment between the song of the forest, Linde's warmth at her side, and the gentle whisper of belonging that rose from deep within her chest. 

"Listnen, H'aanit. Being a hunter meaneth taking lives, but we doe it so we might live. Never forgeten it is thy sacred duty to liven on to surviven and honoren those felled by thine own arrows."

H'aanit shook her head to herself with a light chuckle. "As long as he speaketh only of hunting, he is the wisest of men..." she remarked to Linde, though the rest of the party didn't seem to hear her. Despite her wishes to see Z'aanta again, the hole that had appeared in her chest that morning seemed to have filled itself in, and she felt more than comfortable continuing to speak. "If only that were all he cared about..." 

H'aanit did her best to draw her thoughts out of the past as she turned in the direction of the rest of her party. "The hunt is over. Now it is time to tenden to the fallen," she announced firmly. 

"Hey... Therion, you alright?"

H'aanit glanced over to see Alfyn moving in the direction of Therion where the thief sat against the tree. Alfyn reached out to help Therion rise, but his hand was roughly swatted away by the thief's gloved fingers. Alfyn's expression shifted to a frown. "I can't help you if you don't let me see what happened," Alfyn chastised him, though his voice was not without warmth and care. 

Therion remained still as a statue, his eyes glazed and focused on the grass below as Alfyn carefully maneuvered his fingers beneath the cloak that Therion wore around his torso. He didn't even need to remove the rest of the cloth to recognize the damages, prompting him to hiss sharply from between his teeth. "Ouch. Feels like broken ribs to me," Alfyn muttered. He looked up to Therion's head and saw a small patch of scarlet clouding the pristine white of the thief's hair. "And you hit your head too. Hey, Phili, could you use a bit of healing magic to help him out? I can take care of the rest when we get back to S'warkii."

Ophilia nodded, and she pressed her hands together over her chest before releasing a gentle veil of white magic. H'aanit immediately felt rejuvenated, and she hadn't even been particularly injured during the battle to begin with. Therion let out a small sigh of relief, though there was still an edge to his breathing that came off as ragged. Alfyn wasn't taking no for an answer when he wrapped one arm around Therion's shoulders and practically hauled the thief to his feet, a clear indicator of the size difference between them. Therion's eyes remained glossy and unfocused as Alfyn started helping him move back in the direction of the nearby town. 

"I should probably go ahead so that I can fix him up," Alfyn declared. "I'll get us a room at the inn so that I can make sure everything's been taken care of before we set off again."

"Nonsense. You may usen my home," H'aanit cut in. "Asken the headman where to go upon your returne to town. We will arriven shortly." 

Alfyn seemed taken aback, but he didn't object in the slightest. He nodded with a smile, recovering from his shock instantly. "Thanks," he told her softly. He began moving back in the direction of town at a surprisingly good clip. Olberic walked alongside him, seemingly acting as the backup while the rest of the party took care of the remaining traces of business that their mission involved. H'aanit nodded to herself as the trio of travelers disappeared from sight, leaving her with the other women of the group as well as Linde and Cyrus. 

The walk back to the front of the Whisperwood was a slow one in comparison to the way that Alfyn and Olberic were hurrying along with Therion. To H'aanit though, it seemed to pass by in the blink of an eye, and before she knew it, she was back at the entrance of the forest. The stench of rotten blood and the outline of corpses on the grass made that much clear, and H'aanit kept her eyes as even on the path ahead as possible to make sure that she didn't lose her concentration. 

Another figure came into view against the glow of the Ember, and H'aanit recognized it as the herald from Ciaran territory. The bodies of the merchants had been taken away, and H'aanit assumed that was the business that the messenger was here to resolve. He perked up when he noticed that H'aanit had returned, though he paid minimal attention to the rest of the group by comparison on account of not recognizing them. "You look well. I trust the hunt was a success?" the man prompted. 

H'aanit nodded her confirmation. "The beast will troublen thee no more," she assured him. The light from the Ember shifted, and a brief glimpse of a stone marking came into view. She recognized the meaning immediately. "These graves..."

The messenger closed his eyes as he tilted his face to the ground. "I took the liberty of digging them while I waited for your return," he explained. 

"Thanke thee... But I have a request," H'aanit began. The messenger perked up in curiosity as H'aanit glanced in the direction of the wolves on the grass. "Leaven the beasts be. Leten the forest reclaimeth them. That is the way of the wood."

The messenger simply nodded. "As you wish, milady."

~~~~~

Embarrassing. 

That was the only word that Therion could keep repeating again and again in his mind. This was insulting and embarrassing in a way that words could never hope to articulate. He shouldn't have been in this situation, and he hated that the damn ghisarma had been able to do so much damage with a single hit. 

Therion had given up on trying to fight back against Alfyn's firm grasp as soon as he saw the sheen of determination in the apothecary's eyes. Alfyn wasn't going to be backing down, and any protests that Therion attempted to offer would ultimately fall on ignorant ears. Alfyn was determined to ensure that he was alright after the injury, and Therion wasn't going to be able to do a thing about it. 

Therion had been hurt worse. That much he was more than confident of. He had struggled with injuries that did more damage than being slammed against a tree. Alfyn had diagnosed him with broken ribs and a concussion, but apparently, all it was going to take was a few healing spells followed by Alfyn's special brand of first aid to resolve the issue in time for the group to go back on the road on schedule. If that was the case though, then why was Alfyn being so stubborn about it?

"How are you feeling?" Alfyn questioned in that friendly yet casual country drawl of his. Olberic was cleaning his blade in the corner of the room after being given the go-ahead to decompress from the battle from Alfyn. It seemed that Alfyn had picked up on the fact that Therion didn't want to be bothered more than he had to, but that still wasn't persuasion enough for him to leave Therion alone entirely. 

Therion didn't want to respond verbally. He let out a small huff of a sigh before shrugging. "Fine," he said bluntly. He hated being part of a group that was this stifling and cloying. He had worked alone for years up to this point and found a way to make it work, so why did he have to break his streak now? 

Alfyn tilted his head in Therion's direction in a way that seemed like a mother trying to scold her child for breaking a vase. Therion resisted the urge to roll his eyes as Alfyn shook his head. "We'll let you rest for a while longer. We'll be leavin' town soon, but you need all the downtime that you can get. You're lucky that you didn't get hurt any worse than you did, you know," he said. 

Therion looked away, unable to stand the sight of those grassy green eyes combined with the overwhelming emerald of Alfyn's coat. Therion detested the color green, and it was one reason that he wanted to get out of the Woodlands as soon as possible. Green was the color of life for most, but for Therion, it was the color of death. It was the color of the world falling apart with him at the center, and it made him sick. If he hadn't been so distracted by all that damn green, then he wouldn't have been hit by the ghisarma in the first place. If not for the rest of the group being so nice, he wouldn't have been surrounded by the worst color known to man, and he wouldn't have wound up with broken ribs and a stain of blood against the back of his head. 

Alfyn moved over in the direction of the countertop, and he rustled through the satchel of his that never seemed to find a way to be perfectly neat. After finding what he was searching for, he smiled and reached out for H'aanit's kettle. "I hope ya don't mind tea. I think it's just what you need to feel better after all that," Alfyn told Therion with a light smile. 

Therion didn't respond. He didn't mind tea, as a matter of fact; his life as a thief on the run hardly left him the time to indulge in such pleasures though. As soon as his eyes narrowed in on the leaves that Alfyn was using to make the tea though, Therion's stomach did a flip, and he was left hating the color green all over again. Why did Heathcote have to do this to him? Damn it, he was better than this. 

But Therion knew there wasn't going to be a way for him to sneak out of it no matter how hard he tried. Alfyn was a stubborn person if Therion had ever seen one, not that the apothecary particularly looked it. Alfyn hid everything behind a smile, but Therion knew better than to trust what people showed to the world at a first glance. He shook his head to himself, desperate to be out of H'aanit's spare bed and back on the road to get out of the Woodlands with all of their damn green. 

"Here ya go."

Alfyn was pressing the cup of tea into Therion's hands before he knew it, and the thief looked up at him carefully. Alfyn had set aside a cup for himself, and Therion assumed that he had asked Olberic if he wanted some only to receive a declination. Therion stared at Alfyn for a long moment, trying to figure out just what the hell was going on inside of the apothecary's head, before he realized that he wasn't going to be able to find the answers. He accepted the cup gently, and just as he expected, the sensation of the tea slipping down his throat was just as calming and necessary as he had thought it would be. It had been too long since he had tea like this. Life always seemed to find a way to get between him and enjoying the little things like this. 

No... That wasn't true. Therion hadn't indulged in tea for so long simply because he couldn't stand the process. Alcohol allowed him to dull the world around him and concentrate on something other than himself for a short while, but tea made him think about everything that he was trying to forget in the first place. Tea leaves were his curse, a sign of everything wrong with the world and wrong with him. At least when Alfyn made tea Therion was able to pretend that he was anywhere except a huntress' spare bed in the middle of everything green and twisted. 

Therion stared down at the pool of liquid in the cup for a long time, losing track of the seconds as he did so. He could feel Alfyn and Olberic's eyes on him, staring but too afraid to speak out of fear that they would burst the thin bubble of fragile peace over Therion's mind. It wasn't even entirely peace; it was something else entirely, something that Therion couldn't even begin to describe. 

Therion shook his head to pull himself back to reality. They would be out of S'warkii by sundown if all went well and H'aanit went along with Ophilia's strange insistence that she had to come along with them. Therion didn't know what was going through Ophilia's head, but he had long since stopped trying to figure it out. That was a question for another time, and Therion had other things to focus on, such as getting out of this place to Noblecourt where the grass was still green but a little less suffocating. 

~~~~~

H'aanit and the rest of her portion of the party had just arrived back in town when she stopped walking. Tressa was on the verge of proclaiming their victory for all of S'warkii to hear, but H'aanit's sudden halt brought the attention of everyone in the group to her. Linde perked up, seemingly recognizing just as H'aanit had that there was something out of place. 

The sound of bounding footsteps reached H'aanit's ears, but the rhythm was hardly human. It was a pattern that she had learned to memorize from a young age, and a grand smile spread across her face as a deep gray wolf came into view for the first time in a year. H'aanit spread her arms wide as she walked closer. "Hägen! Thou returnst to us!" H'aanit cried out. If Hägen was there, then that meant that Z'aanta could hardly be far; Hägen and Z'aanta were never apart for long, something H'aanit had learned well growing up. 

Before H'aanit could get too close though, she was cut off by a growl from Hägen. She took a staggering step back, shock painting itself across her features. She knew exactly what Hägen was trying to communicate, and a quick glance around the area only confirmed her suspicions. Her heart began to beat faster in her chest, almost as if it was attempting to burst free of her ribcage. "Where is Master? Hath something befallen him?!" H'aanit questioned intensely of the wolf. 

Hägen responded with a growl once again, and H'aanit examined him carefully. He was shaking ever so slightly just as the wolves had in the Whisperwood. "He is confused... And frightened. Thou didst run here, didst thou not? And alone... Doth Master needeth my help?" All previous thoughts of H'aanit fearing Z'aanta had gotten distracted by his gambling habits had melted away, replaced with the all too real concern that something dreadful had happened. Hägen's presence in S'warkii alone was proof of that, and H'aanit's stomach began to churn. 

Hägen whimpered in response to H'aanit's words, still unable to relax even at the sight of someone who he knew to be family. H'aanit took a step closer, running one hand through the fur at the top of his head. "It's alright... Easy, boy... Easy," she murmured to Hägen as soothingly as she could manage when adrenaline was starting to take control of her. Hägen whimpered once again as he sat down in the grass, nuzzling at H'aanit's hand as if it was the only lifeline that he had. "There, there, now... That's a good boy."

Linde moved closer and sat at her companion's side, seeking the comfort brought by H'aanit. She knew just as well as the huntress did that something had gone wrong. Z'aanta was in trouble, and it had to be severe danger. H'aanit had to return to his side as soon as possible. If Hägen had run from the farther reaches of Orsterra, then it would have taken him quite some time to reach S'warkii. In other words, there was no way of saying how old the message was that Z'aanta needed assistance. H'aanit had no way of confirming what the threat was either; Hägen could hardly communicate to her through words what had taken place to cause such catastrophe, leaving H'aanit to wonder in the silence what had happened. 

H'aanit's voice was barely being kept even when she turned her attention up to Hägen once more. "Hägen, canst thou guide me to Master?" she questioned firmly. The wolf responded with a bark of confirmation, rising to his feet at the idea that H'aanit was ready to come to Z'aanta's rescue. Her eyes fell shut in contemplation. "Whatever hath befallen him, we shall save him--thou and I."

Hägen remained close to H'aanit's side as she turned to face the rest of the travelers. "What are thou planning to doeth from here?" she questioned carefully. She knew that the group was passing through S'warkii on their way to another destination, but she hadn't been able to hear the details beyond that. Her briefing on the mission to defeat the ghisarma had taken too much of the journey to the Whisperwood for her to hear the full story behind what was going on with her other companions. 

"Our current next destination is likely Stillsnow, but we're going to be moving throughout the continent for a while," Ophilia told her. She looked to Hägen before shifting her attention up to H'aanit once again, her eyes filled with an unexpected sense of hope. 

"Might I be able to accompany thou?" H'aanit questioned. She glanced at the rest of the party for confirmation, and when she was met with nods, she shifted her attention back to Ophilia from where she stood at the center of the group. 

Ophilia simply nodded, relief overcoming her eyes. "Of course."

~~~~~

The process of preparing to leave S'warkii was swift and hazy. H'aanit knew that she had to concentrate on getting the job done as soon as possible if she wanted to find Z'aanta and return home with him. Hägen was close at her side along the way, never far from H'aanit and Linde as they carried out their preparation. He was wary of the rest of the group, only seeming to relax around them when he recognized that H'aanit had faith in them as well. 

Therion was ready to get back on his feet by the time that H'aanit was prepared to leave town behind, but Alfyn remained close to him to keep an eye on his condition. Therion's eyes had grown even darker since the incident where he was injured by the ghisarma, and he downright refused to meet anyone's gaze due to something that H'aanit suspected was embarrassment. She chose to not call him on it though; that would only serve to provide grounds for conflict, and she wasn't about to provoke him when the rest of the party had been kind enough to allow her to travel with them as she moved in the direction of her master. 

Weapons had been cleaned and inventories had been restocked with healing grapes and inspiriting plums by the time that the group moved for the front of the town. H'aanit walked at the front of the group, the letter in her pocket feeling heavier than she ever could have imagined. Z'aanta hadn't written in so long since he had been unable to do so for some reason, and she felt awful for internally chastising him with words that hadn't even been true to begin with. Still, she could not erase the facts of the past. The future had to be her sole priority from then on out. 

"So... Thou art going after Z'aanta."

The voice of the headman stopped H'aanit before she could fully leave the town behind. She turned to face him, noticing that there were two people standing near him. She walked toward the headman to stand between him and the rest of the travelers. Linde and Hägen also stood to attention as H'aanit nodded her confirmation. "Hägen here cameth seeking my help," she explained simply. Hägen's nerves had calmed slightly, though he was still anxious and worked up from whatever it was that had sent him in the direction of S'warkii to begin with. The wolf offered a light growl as confirmation of her words, moving closer to H'aanit on the instinct of her being the most familiar person he had in that moment. 

"In his letter, he said he was bound for Stonegard," H'aanit continued as she looked away from Hägen to face the headman once more. "We shall begine our search there." 

"I praye that it is no more serious than an ill-founded wager that left him unable to payeth his innkeeper," one of the hunters with the headman said, though it was clear as could be that he knew there was more to it. "For Hägen to cometh all this way alone... I cannot helpe but feare the worst. Prithee takest care."

H'aanit simply nodded in response. "We will," she vowed sternly. She had to trust that the other hunters of S'warkii would be able to look after the town in her stead. She was the strongest among the fighters of the village, but she had other things to aim for. Z'aanta was waiting for her, and the last thing that H'aanit was going to do was keep him waiting longer than absolutely necessary. 

"And don nothing foolish. Don as Z'aanta sayeth, child... Not as he would doeth," the headman advised, his voice low and rumbling in all of its cautious sternness. 

H'aanit nodded. "Thanke ye, Chief. Fearen not for us," she told him firmly. She knew that she would be able to handle this one way or another. The rest of the party would be there for her, and that wasn't even factoring in Hägen and Linde. They were going to find a way to rescue Z'aanta from the danger that had befallen him no matter what the consequences were. "We shall be back as soon as possible with Master at our side." 

With those words, the headman responded with a nod, and he began to wave in H'aanit's direction. She returned the gesture before pivoting on her heel to walk away. The forest stood in front of her in all of its magnificent glory, but this time, something about the outside world felt ominous and hollow in a way that she had no words to describe. Something outside of the boundaries of S'warkii had caused Z'aanta to fall to hardship, and there was no way of saying just what had happened. 

H'aanit stared at the trees for a long while, feeling the presence of the other travelers behind her. She knew that the time had come to depart, and she couldn't waste even a moment as long as Z'aanta was at risk. Her eyes fell shut in quiet contemplation, and she did her best to keep her mind from racing in a thousand different directions that told of tragedy she was unable to prevent. She had to remain levelheaded regardless of how much she feared that Z'aanta was in unspeakable danger. 

H'aanit was the first to take a step into the wilderness once more, the others in her party following in her trail soon afterward. She knew what she had to do. Z'aanta had done countless favors for her over the years as her parental figure, and the time had come for her to return the gesture by rescuing him from this tragic fate. It was the least that she could do for him after all of the years that he had spent looking after her. The future was waiting for her, and H'aanit was never one to resist the call that change might send her way. 

Stayest safe, Master. We're coming.

~~~~~

"So... Off we go again, huh?"

Tressa was standing at the front of the party just outside S'warkii with the map in her hands, and the rest of the travelers were gathered behind her. Ophilia nodded with a smile. "So it seems," she agreed. "I didn't expect to gather such a large traveling party when I first left Flamesgrace, but I'm glad we decided to make a few detours to get a few others to join us."

"We're going to be walking for a while, so I think we should find a way to pass the time," Primrose suggested as she glanced to the rest of the travelers. "I bet Therion and H'aanit are confused as to what all of us are planning on doing from here."

"I never said that," Therion countered, his voice sharp but lacking in any real malice. 

"I did," Alfyn chimed in before Therion could grow too sour. "Well, I didn't, not exactly, but I'm certainly curious about what made all of you set off on your journeys. I don't know much aside from what Therion and H'aanit have already told us."

"I'm wondering about that too," Tressa remarked as she looked back to Ophilia. "I heard from Cyrus already that he's looking for a tome that went missing years ago, but I don't think you've said anything. I mean, your position in the church was helpful in convincing my parents to let me go out on my own, but I don't know why you're doing it."

Ophilia hesitated for a long moment, realizing that she hadn't told any of them the truth about her desires to travel. She had explained it to Cyrus out of necessity, but in the cases of the other travelers, it simply hadn't come up. Her cheeks went pink out of embarrassment as her fingers shifted for the lanthorn where it hung from her belt. "Promise you won't freak out too much when I say this," she began. 

"I feel like that depends on what you're about to say," Primrose told her. "What are you on this journey for?"

"I'm... I'm the Flamebearer, and I'm going on the Kindling," Ophilia explained with a smile she knew looked lopsided and anxious. She held up the lanthorn for everyone to see the white and blue fires licking away at the interior of the black steel structure. 

Therion stared at the flames for a long while, letting out a dismissive huff through his nose. "You're kidding," he muttered even though he knew clear as could be that she was serious about it.

Tressa gaped at Ophilia before looking down to the lanthorn. "I just thought that was a fancy lantern!" she confessed. "That's a piece of the First Flame as part of the Kindling?!"

"It is," Ophilia confirmed. She let out an anxious laugh as she fiddled with the hem of her glove with her free hand. "I meant to bring it up at some point, but... I just never saw the right moment for it. So much has been happening lately, and we've been moving constantly."

"We have the time to talk about it now," Olberic pointed out. "Perhaps it would be in our best interests to explain everything that led us up to this point for the sake of the newer members of the group."

Ophilia nodded. "I agree." She took in a careful breath before pushing it out, the air rattling in her lungs all the while. "I wasn't supposed to be the one to go on the Kindling. My sister was the one nominated for it. But that all changed the day she was meant to depart Flamesgrace..."

Chapter Text

It had only been a few short minutes since the group finished their collective explanations about their travels when Ophilia heard a small groan of pain coming from somewhere nearby. She immediately perked up and glanced around the area in confusion. "Did you hear that?" she asked of the rest of the group, keeping her voice low so as to not alert any of the nearby monsters to their presence. 

"I did," Primrose confirmed with a nod. She reached for her dagger on instinct, preparing the blade in case she had to jump in the direction of any of the monsters found in the area. 

"It sounded like a human," Ophilia told Primrose. "I don't think that was a monster at all... If someone got hurt while wandering around here, then we have to do what we can to help them."

Ophilia started to walk a bit faster, glancing around the area as quickly as possible. The Ember couldn't seem to decide if it wanted to glow brightly or recoil at whatever was taking place, but Ophilia ultimately resolved to stick it on her hip and let it sit there beneath her cloak as she concentrated on the task at hand. The rest of the group followed her lead, not saying anything but still clearly curious about what was taking place. 

It only took a minute or two for Ophilia to figure out what was taking place, and a gasp left her lips as her gaze fell upon a young man who was on the grass in the shadow of a tree. He was leaning against the trunk of the impressive show of greenery as he grabbed at his leg. There was a small amount of blood flowing from a notable cut on his thigh, and the man was staring at it with fear and upset knitted into his gaze. 

Alfyn moved to the man's side, crouching beside the blonde. He was wearing mostly blue, though his clothing hardly seemed to be fit for the road. He certainly didn't belong to the forests of S'warkii given his attire, though Ophilia wasn't entirely sure where he could have been from. "What's going on?" Alfyn questioned of the young man as he looked at the injury found on the blonde's leg. 

"A monster came out of nowhere, and it got me in the leg. I can hardly put any weight on it..." the blonde man explained. He attempted to rise to his feet once again, but despite his efforts, he was brought back to the ground once more a moment later. "I hate to be a bother, but do you have a healing grape to spare?"

"I can do you one better," Ophilia smiled. She held up her staff after removing it from her bag, and she waved it down in front of the young man. Light immediately washed over the area with delicate droplets of energy settling over his injury. It didn't take long from there for the wound to stitch itself up, leaving behind little more than a small scar where the cut had once been. Ophilia allowed her staff to fall back down to her side once the healing process was complete. "How does it feel now?"

The young man pushed himself to his feet with the help of the tree he was leaned against, bracing one hand against the trunk as he did so. He tested his leg by taking a step on the foot that had previously been injured, and a grand smile broke out across his features. "Thank you so much!" he cried out. He took another few experimental steps, and when he felt no pushback from his body, he let out a light sigh towards the group of travelers. "Phew! It feels good to be back on my feet. I can't thank you enough. I'd have been done for if you hadn't come along!"

"There are quite a few monsters around here, huh?" Alfyn prompted, though he wasn't particularly expecting an answer. He watched the way that the young man moved for a few moments longer before a satisfied smile appeared on his lips. "It certainly seems like everything is back in order. You're all good to go."

"What's your name?" Tressa questioned as she dared to move a bit closer to the young man. She looked over him in full, seemingly trying to see if she could glean any other pieces of information from him along the way. 

"My name is Kit," the blonde explained. He paused briefly before he smiled up at the rest of the group. "If you don't mind my asking, could I have the names of my rescuers?"

"I'm Ophilia, and this is Cyrus, Tressa, Olberic, Primrose, Alfyn, Therion, and H'aanit," Ophilia introduced, gesturing to each of the travelers along the way. All of them offered at least a nod of acknowledgement if not an outright wave save for Therion who continued to stare down at the ground with something akin to a scowl. "I'm glad that we were able to help you... What are you doing out here though? These woods are dangerous to be traveling in by yourself."

"I'm on a journey to find my father. He disappeared when I was just a boy..." Kit replied, his expression slipping to the ground. Ophilia felt a knot form in her stomach at those words. Her journey wasn't entirely all that different, was it? She was doing all of this because she wanted to find a way to return to Flamesgrace and bid farewell to her father. She was on the Kindling because she was trying to help her family. It was her reason for doing all of this and going on this grand journey. 

"I'm so sorry," Ophilia told him, her features slipping into sympathy. She reached one hand out to place it on his shoulder. The Ember's flame flickered ever so slightly from its place at her side, but for the first time in what felt like forever, she didn't pay it any mind, too focused on the situation at hand to heed the advice it may or may not have been trying to give her. 

Kit shook his head, not wanting to linger on the subject for any longer than he had to. "It's alright," he assured her. His gaze shifted to the rest of the group, and he scanned over the strange ensemble of characters gathered before him. "Are you all on a journey too?"

Ophilia glanced at the others in her party and let out a small chuckle. "I guess you could say that," she responded. Describing everything that her and the rest of her team was doing as part of their adventure would take quite a while, and she didn't think that it would be the best idea to unload all of that onto Kit so suddenly. 

"Perhaps our paths too will cross again someday," Kit smiled. He took a few steps away from the rest of the group, offering a wave in the direction of the party of eight gathered nearby. "Be safe, and may your travels bring you all that you seek!" He started walking off through the woods once again, first shifting into a silhouette before he vanished from sight completely. 

Ophilia waved to him before she let out a small sigh, her hand falling down to her side once more. "I'm glad that we were able to help him. I would have felt awful if we weren't able to do anything to assist him with his injury," she told the rest of the group. She turned to face them with a small yet lovely smile on her face as she tucked her staff back into her bag, reclaiming the Lanthorn between her fingers. "I hope that he's able to find his father soon too. I can tell that it means a lot to him, so I'll wish for the best on his behalf."

"You're certainly trusting," Therion muttered under his breath with a shake of his head. This was one of the first things that he had openly said to anyone since they left behind S'warkii, and it could hardly be stated as anything positive. His hand was hidden under his cloak in an attempt to mask the fool's bangle from view. 

"He was struggling, so I helped him," Ophilia told Therion simply, her expression slipping into something somber. "I want to help those who are unable to help themselves. They deserve that much from the rest of the world. I know that times can be hard, but... I want to do what I can to add a bit of light to make everything that little bit easier for them."

"I can certainly appreciate that," Alfyn smiled as he moved over to Ophilia's side. His hand came down on her shoulder, his grin just as bright as the sun itself where it hung suspended in the sky above the trees. "You've got a big heart, and that's one of the best qualities that a person can have in my eyes, Phili."

Ophilia smiled gently in his direction, trying her best to pretend that hearing a reference to Lianna's nickname of her didn't feel a bit like a punch to the stomach. It wasn't as if that was Alfyn's fault or anything; in fact, the direct opposite was true. Alfyn had no way of knowing that there was a past connection with the name that he had assigned to her. Alfyn had also given nicknames to Primrose and Tressa (Prima and Tress respectively), and it wasn't as if Ophilia was the only one who had been given this new privilege by him. 

Still, it only made Ophilia yearn once again for what was taking place back in Flamesgrace. Josef had stated quite clearly that he didn't think he was going to be able to survive for much longer, but Ophilia was choosing to have faith that he was going to hold on for a bit longer. Aelfric would look after him the same way that she always did. Aelfric was a kind goddess, and Ophilia had learned as much as soon as she first entered the Church of the Sacred Flame. At one point, Ophilia had doubted such a truth because of her seclusion and bitterness towards the world in the aftermath of Creek's collapse, but she had accepted years ago that Aelfric did what she could to look after her people the same way that all of the gods did. The Sacred Flame was a sign of all that Aelfric did in the name of others, and Ophilia wasn't going to protest it. 

Ophilia didn't say any of this to Alfyn though, instead offering him a gentle smile. "Thanks, Alfyn," she said softly. He returned the gesture of the grin with a nod before he moved away from her by a step, retreating to stand at Therion's side. The thief seemed to be resisting the urge to pull away from Alfyn. Ever since Therion was injured during the battle against the ghisarma, Alfyn had been hovering around him just to make sure that he was still alright. Therion was hardly the type to show his pain openly, and Alfyn could tell that at a first glance. That was likely the reason for his shift in behavior in the first place regardless of how much it irritated Therion. 

Ophilia let out a small sigh, and she held up the Ember once again when she glanced over her shoulder to where Cyrus and Tressa were standing together. "Alright... We're headed to Stillsnow next, aren't we?" she questioned. Primrose had said that her objective was likely time sensitive, and she was going to need to travel in the direction of the wintry town as soon as possible to make sure that she was able to accomplish her goal before it slipped from between her fingers. 

Cyrus unfurled the map that he had tucked away into his satchel, holding it up so that Tressa could see it as well. Olberic watched from his place not far off from the duo. "We are," Cyrus confirmed with a nod. He glanced over the surface of the map with a light hum escaping his lips. "We can head through the Woodlands in the direction of the Frostlands, and we should be able to arrive at Stillsnow soon enough."

Ophilia nodded, and she started off in the direction that Cyrus was moving in. The rest of the group trailed after him. Ophilia risked a glance back in Therion's direction, wondering if she would be able to see anything on his expression from their brief moment of conflict. Ophilia didn't think that anything was going to come of it, but she did have to wonder why it was that Therion was so distrustful of the world. 

It wasn't as if Ophilia particularly had proof that there was more to the dilemma of Therion than initially met the eye. She could simply sense that there was something else going on inside his head that the other members of the group were not aware of. Something in the way that he carried himself set off an alarm in the back of Ophilia's head for a reason that she struggled to solidly define. He struggled with opening up to others and being able to trust them, and something had happened in the past to make him believe that he was going to be stabbed in the back. His posture was guarded, and he refused to meet anyone's gaze while simultaneously never backing down from a challenge. He hid everything behind a mask that thrived in shadows and fire, and the rest of the group was simply yet another audience for him to pull into his show. 

Primrose was no different though, was she? Even though they were on their way to Stillsnow, a destination that Primrose had set for them in the first place, she hadn't explained much of anything in terms of what her objective was. Nobody had wanted to ask about it right after Yusufa was killed, unwilling to probe the gruesome subject of the woman who had been murdered for daring to defend Primrose. After that, the dancer simply took to avoiding every topic that just so happened to come close to the matter of her objective. It seemed that her dancing was not simply a physical skill, instead reaching out to her emotional state as well. 

Ophilia was glad that she had managed to construct a party filled with so many incredible people, but at the same time, she couldn't help but wonder just what it was that the Ember was trying to imply. It was the reason that she had found many members of the group, and Ophilia wanted to trust its judgement. At the same time though, they were a group of misfits that barely seemed to fit together. This would undoubtedly change with time, but Ophilia had to wonder if she would ever be given the chance to see their dynamic work out to begin with given the contrast of personalities and ambitions found among the party of eight. 

The Ember offered up yet another pulsing glow, and Ophilia glanced down to it with a small gasp. She could tell that it was trying to tell her something yet again. It was as if the Ember had been speaking to her ever since she first claimed it in the Cave of Origin, and while Ophilia partially wondered if anyone else had heard its voice in the past, she knew that she didn't have the chance to ask anyone. Josef was the only other Flamebearer who still drew breath, and Ophilia didn't want to hold back their journey any further by revisiting her hometown. She had to keep pressing on, and for the time being, that meant going to Stillsnow. 

Ophilia did her best to shove all other thoughts out of her head, though that was much easier said than done. The world didn't seem to want to give her the chance to find freedom from her past thought cycle, and there wasn't an easy way for her to escape that. Still, she had a mission to concentrate on, and she wasn't about to let herself get in her own way. 

~~~~~

The grassy greenery and overhead trees of the Woodlands soon gave way to the snowy plains of the Frostlands, and the temperature began to drop slowly but steadily. Ophilia was more than used to the cold, but she could tell that there were others in the party who were struggling on that front. Primrose had been wise enough to swap out her clothes built for the warm deserts of the Sunlands for warmer clothing while the group was on a temporary stop in Clearbrook, and Ophilia was glad that she had. Tressa, on the other hand, was nowhere near as good with the cold. She came from a warmer region, and all she could do was shiver as she rubbed at her arms to try and beat away the cold. Primrose wound up wrapping an arm around Tressa's shoulders to help out with keeping her warm, and Tressa offered a grateful smile up at the older dancer. Primrose simply grinned back, but there was something haunted and distant about the gesture that Ophilia didn't know how to decipher. She knew that nobody else understood it either, so she chose to stay silent for a short while longer. 

Ophilia pressed one gloved hand against a nearby tree, the last one of brown and green before the ground fully gave way to the snow of the next region over. The monsters that the group fought against had been getting stronger since they left behind S'warkii. The weakest creatures could be found on the inner rings of towns of Orsterra. The Central Sea was where the gods ascended to the heavenly plane so many generations prior, and their influence was still strong enough to keep the occupants of the continent safe at the center of the continent. The farther that someone got from the Central Sea, the more dangerous it became to travel and the more likely powerful monsters were to appear. Luckily, the creatures were hardly any match for the combined might of the eight travelers put together. Their teamwork was hardly up to the level that it could have been, but it was enough for the time being. 

Ophilia offered a final glance over her shoulder to the rest of her party to make sure that they were all still with her. When she counted over seven people and two other creatures, Ophilia nodded to herself and allowed her foot to come down on the nearest patch of snow that led into the Frostlands, and by extension, the territory surrounding Stillsnow. The city near Flamesgrace was one that was said to be filled with mystery, almost seeming to blend into the snow around it. The only way that a person could find Stillsnow and its occupants would be to intentionally search for it, and luckily for the party, they most certainly were. If Primrose really was on the hunt for a few shady figures the way that Ophilia assumed, this would certainly make sense as a hiding place. After all, Stillsnow was one of the best places to be obscured from the rest of the world. 

As soon as Ophilia's shoe came down on the snowy white expanses that spread before her, something in the back of her mind seemed to change. It was like the flip of a coin or the pull of a lever. There was something inside of Ophilia that seemed to grow more alert while another part went dull. Bright blue eyes were suddenly overtaken by a gentle sheen of silver, and the world seemed to exist on the other side of stained glass coated in a soft glow the color of snowfall. Ophilia stared down at her hand that was outstretched before her, almost not fully understanding what was happening in front of her. For a long moment, all she did was look down at her palm where it was hiding beneath her glove, and the world around her seemed to fall away to little more than the general cacophony of static that whispered at the back of her head. 

"Ophilia?" came the voice of Cyrus from somewhere nearby, but Ophilia wasn't able to figure out exactly where he was standing. She was vaguely aware of the fact that the rest of the group was staring at her, but she couldn't bring herself to care. There was something in the area that was calling for her, and Ophilia knew that it had to be something of significant. 

Press onwards, young Flamebearer... I havest faith in thou. 

"Look at the Ember!" Tressa exclaimed as she pointed at the Lanthorn draped between Ophilia's fingers on her other hands. The Ember was glowing even brighter than before. The snow around them began to fall heavier than it had been previously, but it didn't at all seem to impact the group walking through the storm. The overhead skies were cloudy the same way that they always seemed to be in the Frostlands, but the storm didn't touch the group of eight where they stood around the Ember. It was as if the small beacon from the goddess Aelfric was defending them from the full influence of the snowstorm. 

"Why's it glowin' like that...?" Alfyn questioned, his eyes going wide. He took a step closer, but he didn't seem to be able to bring himself to get anywhere near the Ember beyond what he had already done. Even Therion appeared to be surprised as he, along with the rest of the group, stared at the Ember where it shone bright and crisp from its home within the Lanthorn. 

Ophilia took a step forward, not entirely sure what she was doing but pushing herself onward regardless. Her body seemed to move on its own, not at all minding the commands that Ophilia may or may not have thrust upon it. The snow around them continued to part, almost as if it was opening a path for them to follow as they grew nearer to their destination. However, it had little to do with Stillsnow as far as Ophilia's dulled mind could tell. She was simply following the directions that the Ember provided for her, and she had to do as it commanded. There was a deep instinct that thrived in her core that told her this was her only option for the time being. 

"Ophilia? Can you hear us?" Primrose asked. Ophilia did hear her, but the words were so distant that it sounded as if they were being spoken on the other side of a wall of water that could never be penetrated or destroyed. As such, she couldn't bring herself to respond, too concentrated on what the Ember was asking of her to bother. Around her, a small barrier of light appeared amidst the snow, protecting all of them from the storm that raged on all sides. None of them had been touched by even a single snowflake since the Ember began to glow, and the soft shield of what seemed to be light magic protected them from anything that could have dared to harm them. 

"Are you responsible for this magic?" Olberic questioned as he looked over in Cyrus' direction. The scholar shook his head in response, a heavy frown on his face that was formed out of something between curiosity and concern. Despite these silent musings, Cyrus didn't stop or force Ophilia to answer his questions, and nobody else did either. They all followed in the path that the Ember provided for them as well, not at all sure what was taking place but unwilling to protest its requests at the same time. 

Ophilia reached out one hand ahead of her. She could feel something calling for her even though it spoke no words. It was as if there was some distant force that was beckoning for her to come as close as possible. There was a power found within the area that she had to locate. It was asking for her, and Ophilia couldn't refuse. She didn't want to, but even if she did, protest would have been impossible to begin with. 

Comen closer, child... Destiny awaits thou. 

Ophilia didn't respond to the voice in the back of her mind, and the Ember continued to glow even brighter at her side. It almost seemed like a beacon that fended off everything in the area ranging from the snowstorm to the growing darkness of the sunset. The environment around them was a mess of fury and rage from the part of nature, but it didn't have even the slightest impact on the people who were trying to find truth at the heart of the disaster. 

Ophilia only stopped walking a few minutes later when something deep inside of her told her to halt. The Ember was just as bright as it had been during the journey, an inferno at the heart of the gentle shield that was guarding the group from the storm around them. Ophilia's eyes remained glazed over by silver, and she reached out one hand gently. The place that she had to travel to was right in front of her. She could simply feel it. 

However, at a first glance, it simply looked like yet another mound of snow. The Frostlands had never melted in all of Orsterra's time existing as a grand continent, but the ground beneath them was assumed to be hilly to explain why the land appeared the way it did. This particular mound of snow was so large though that it couldn't have simply been a hill with the way that it rose so high above everything else in the area, almost as if it was trying to get as close to touching the sky as it could as a pile of snow. 

Ophilia closed her eyes, and her hand glittered with gentle white light as the snow began to shift. The side of the hill had been shaped somewhat oddly, curving upwards naturally on all sides before cutting off abruptly and shooting downwards just in front of where the group was standing. It was this very abnormality of structure that ultimately began to change shape when the white light spread outwards, threatening to temporarily steal the vision of anyone who was unfortunate enough to stare into the heart of the inferno. 

Ophilia was the only one unbothered, and she was able to easily stare at the hill's core when the straight edge slowly began to move outwards. The snowy ground rumbled gently, and two panels shifted out of the way almost as if they were a type of sliding door. The panels retreated into the hill before disappearing from view. On the other side, a dark space could be seen with a few traces of snow right beside the entrance. The white light on Ophilia's fingertips faded away as soon as the door had been opened to show the inside of the cave. 

"What is this...?" Cyrus questioned, his eyes going wide. He stepped to the side of the hill to examine the space where the panels had disappeared from view, trying his best to find an explanation for what had taken place. He ran his fingers through the snow, and small piles of flakes fell between his palms before hitting the ground below. His breath didn't fog up in front of his face the way that it had previously. The inside of the cave was warm enough for that to not be a notable issue. 

"It seems to be a cave of some kind," Primrose remarked. She took a step closer, the first to brave the threshold between the snow and the darkness found within. Certainly enough, the warmth of the area was enough to make her extra layers of clothing almost immediately unnecessary. She didn't move to remove the fabric though, instead simply bearing with it. 

"We have to check out what's inside, right?" Tressa asked. She glanced to the others in the group for confirmation, and when she was met with a nod from Alfyn, she took a step forward, a gasp leaving her lips. "Hey... It's not cold in here! I think that's reason enough for us to look around at what's inside!"

Ophilia allowed her hand to fall back down to her side, and she glanced down to the Ember. The silvery sheen to her eyes had grown faint, but it was still present if one looked close enough. Her eyes asked the Ember a thousand questions about what had just taken place or why it had led her here, but she didn't vocalize any of them. Instead, she simply turned her face up to the cave. The path ahead was mostly dark, but she could tell that there was something of import inside. Why else would the Ember have led her here?

"Let's do it," Ophilia declared, the fog around her finally starting to clear. She walked past Primrose and into the depths of the cave, the rest of the group following in her footsteps. H'aanit wound up taking the rear position of the party, offering a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure that they weren't being followed. Linde and Hägen trailed in her footsteps. 

Once the group was fully inside the cave, the ground began to rumble once more. A moment later, the doors pushed themselves closed once again, cloaking the party of eight in complete darkness save for the strong pulsing glow of the Ember. Ophilia held up the Lanthorn, casting her features in resplendent white light, before she continued onwards. She didn't know what they were going to find at the end of this path, but she knew that it had to be important. Finally, she was going to get a few answers about just what was going on inside her own head. 

Chapter Text

The darkness inside of the shrine was cleared up the deeper that the group traveled into the cave. Each step seemed to cause something new to respond within the area, ranging from the floor below seeming to come to life with a dull glow of white energy and the torches that lit themselves the closer that the group got to the end of their destination. There was nothing of note in the cave aside from the primary pathway, but whatever was waiting at the end of the walkway was making the Ember activate in a way that Ophilia had never seen before. The Ember couldn't seem to calm itself no matter what happened. 

All in all, the cave was rather simple. The single path had tiled floors and railings on either side that seemed to overlook an abyss. The bottom was impossible to see, but a pattern like shining silver stars could be seen at the base of whatever was waiting on the other side of the railing. The fall was undoubtedly steep and far though, prompting all of the group's members to stay between the railings to keep from suffering significant damage or even death from the tumble to the bottom. 

Ophilia had to admit that it was almost hypnotic to be able to travel through such a place. Unlike the rest of Orsterra's wilds, there were no monsters to be found, the area instead being wiped clean of anything that might have suggested outside life. The shrine had an aura about it that was otherworldly, almost as if the universe itself stopped everywhere else except for the location found within these sacred halls. There was something watching Ophilia, and she could sense it. 

Clearly, the Ember could too. The voice that had been ringing in the back of her mind ever since she left behind Flamesgrace had come to a halt all too suddenly, and the silvery glint in Ophilia's eyes had disappeared as well. Instead, all that seemed to matter was the path ahead, and Ophilia followed it diligently. She wasn't entirely sure what was going to be waiting for her at the end, but she was determined to find out. 

The rest of the travelers had fallen silent after they stepped into the cave as well, unable to comment in the face of something so seemingly holy and mysterious. The shrine itself seemed to hold no answers as to its purpose or what it was meant to be, instead only consisting of the single path that led to something at the far end. 

The destination was revealed soon enough, and torches of white fire lit themselves on either side of the edge of the cave. Streaming through the ceiling, delicate white light could be seen, falling upon the surface of what appeared to be an altar of some kind. Pillars stretched up to the ceiling before disappearing from view, claimed by the shadows that ruled the room. Even though the shrine was buried beneath a pile of snow that was thick enough to swallow someone whole, it was clear that the area was still somehow maintaining a command of light and shadows in a way that no human could ever hope to. 

The altar was, all things considered, rather similar to the podium where the Ember had been waiting for Ophilia back in the Cave of Origin. Instead of a white fire waiting for her though, there was something else. It was a stone carving that seemed to resemble a statue of a few crystals. There was one prominent gem in the center with two smaller outlines jutting out from either side. The middle crystal held a few other details. Ophilia noticed as she got closer that there was no dust to be found anywhere on the altar. There were no signs that anyone had been there in generations, and yet, it was completely spotless. 

The Ember continued to glow brightly even as Ophilia shifted it into her left hand. The rest of the group watched on silently as she reached out with her fingertips to touch at the stone carving. Immediately, she felt some new type of power surge through her, unfamiliar yet somewhat cozy. It was as if her very soul was being cradled by a higher power, held close to the chest of something grand and beautiful. Ophilia didn't think that she had felt this way in a long time. 

No, that wasn't true. She had felt it before in one location in particular. When standing before the Sacred Flame in the chapel of Flamesgrace, Ophilia felt as if she was at the apex of the world. Nothing had a chance of bringing her down from the peak that she had found, and it was as if she was finally home for the first time ever. Ophilia knew that her home was where Lianna and Josef could be found, but at the same time, this was different, an entirely new sensation that she had never understood in full prior to touching the stone carving that rested before her in the shrine. 

Hail, traveler... 

Ophilia immediately felt a gasp push its way free of her lungs, and her eyes went wide. That was the voice that she had been hearing ever since she first picked up the Ember. She glanced around the cave desperately, hoping to find anything that even slightly resembled an answer, but she ultimately came up short. However, unlike every other time, the others responded to this voice as well. They had never seemed to be able to hear the voice that echoed in the back of her mind, but that changed this time. Therion reached for his dagger on pure instinct, ready to lash out at a moment's notice if he saw anything resembling danger. 

I am Aelfric, the Flamebringer and the god of the light that shines across this fair land. 

"Aelfric..." Ophilia whispered, her eyes going wide. Suddenly, everything seemed to fall into place. She had only started hearing this voice after she first picked up the Ember, and the Ember was one of the last physical signs that remained of the heavenly figures that once ruled over Orsterra. Aelfric had brought it down from the heavens to defeat an evil god that turned against its brethren. She had been one of the most powerful figures even among the gods themselves, and that was assuming that she wasn't the strongest in and of herself. Her power was unparalleled, and her influence could be felt powerful and bold even so many generations later. 

Thou hast come to a place of divine contact... The Shrine of the Flamebearer. Thou hast done well to make it to this sacred place. 

"What's going on?" Ophilia questioned of Aelfric, her voice edging on pleading and desperation. "I don't understand..."

A dark presence awaits thee... It threatens the whole of Orsterra, and the power of the gods is needed once more. Children of the heavens who have gathered in this sacred hall, the time has arrived for thou to fully comprehend the journey of which thou are set to play a part in. 

Ophilia didn't fully know how to respond to that, but she could see that a gentle white light was starting to spark up beneath the surface of the stone carving. It was nothing overwhelming, but it was still notable enough to catch her eye. The energy in the room seemed to be consolidating into the single location found beneath her fingertips, and new power seemed to flood through her body in a way that she never could have imagined. The world came into new focus, everything growing sharper and more refined in the blink of an eye. 

I am prepared to impart to thou my most heavenly of gifts... The power of the second chance. First, thou must prove thyself worthy. 

The world around them immediately began to shift, and Ophilia felt as if the ground was moving from beneath her feet even though she knew that it was remaining stable. The white light coming in from the overhead patch on the ceiling grew overwhelming, and Ophilia found herself throwing up one hand to block her eyes to keep the light from temporarily stealing her vision. She winced at the sight, not allowing herself to remove her arm from her face until after she was sure that the light around her had started to melt away. She heard light groans of pain from the other members of the group around her, but Ophilia wasn't able to look until after she allowed herself to pry her eyes open once again. 

When she did, the first thing that Ophilia noticed was that the scenery had changed entirely. The altar that had previously been standing before the group had disappeared, and the pillars that stretched in the direction of the cave's roof had seemingly grown farther apart, fanning out to make the space at the end of the shrine much larger than it had been previously. The new area was lit much in the same way that the previous scene had been, white fire lining the edge of the cave. There was more light than there had been previously, and Ophilia realized that the Ember was glowing even brighter. She hadn't even thought such a thing to be possible. 

"What's going on?" Tressa questioned. She glanced around the area, a gasp leaving her lips a moment later. Her attention had fallen to the other side of the area, and as soon as Tressa gasped, the rest of the group shifted their focus in the same direction out of quiet curiosity. 

There was a tall and imposing figure waiting for them, and Ophilia stared at the woman in curiosity. She was standing at roughly ten feet tall, towering high above even Olberic, the tallest of the travelers. Linde and Hägen had endless fascination with the woman, and they almost seemed to watch her with something resembling respect. Ophilia's chest grew light, almost as if the inside of her body was floating on air. 

The woman herself was wearing all white, her clothing consisting of a loose dress with a wrap of transparency wound around her arms. Her feet were hidden from view by a set of pastel blue dancing shoes that wrapped around her legs with a pair of shining ribbons each. Her hair was golden and floated around her the same way that her endless skirt did. A single piece of golden fabric was wrapped around her eyes, a silvery tiara resting atop her head. A veil of transparent silver also hung over her hair, fluttering in the same phantom breeze that moved every other part of her ensemble. 

"Who..." Ophilia began, but she was unable to bring herself to finish the question when she recognized that she already knew the answer. "Are you... Aelfric?"

The woman's lips did not move when her voice next echoed throughout the cave. Instead, she simply raised one hand into the air, calling upon the outline of a staff of gold topped with a white pearl. The staff materialized from nothingness before resting gently between her fingertips. 

I am. Thou art destined to play a key role in the journey to come. I can provide the power over full dominion of the light element along with the gift of the second chance... Prove yourselves worthy of my strength. Defeat me in battle, and thou shalt be granted the full extent of my power. 

"We can't just fight against a goddess, can we?" Alfyn questioned, the only member of the group who seemed to be able to bring himself to speak given the collective blanket of nerves that had passed over the group. 

Therion shook his head, and he pulled his dagger out in full. "She told us what we have to do, and it isn't as if we're going to be able to do any significant damage. You said it yourself. She's a goddess, and I doubt that we're going to be leaving this place until we can defeat her," he responded, each word dry as could be. Still, it was a quiet wonder that he had said this much in the first place. 

Ophilia realized that Therion was right about them not being able to leave until they defeated Aelfric; the shrine that they had previously been in had given way to this new battlefield. Ophilia assumed that it was a battlefield created specifically for the purpose of Aelfric testing their worthiness over this strength that she possessed. Ophilia didn't know what the gift of the second chance was, but she had the sneaking suspicion that she was certainly going to want what it had to offer as their quest grew more dangerous and overwhelming. 

"It seems that we know what we must do then," Primrose said simply. She pulled out her own dagger, poising the weapon in the direction of Aelfric. The rest of the group hesitantly followed her lead, and Ophilia reached for her staff. She didn't like the idea of fighting against a goddess, but she knew that this was their only option. Aelfric would grant them new strength if they won, and Ophilia had to have faith that they were going to succeed. 

Aelfric didn't make the first move against what Ophilia would have expected. Instead, she waited patiently for her foes to prepare themselves, and she simply stared as Tressa threw out a blast of wind magic in her direction. Aelfric only responded when the wind was about to hit her, and she threw one arm up in a grand yet delicate gesture. 

Ophilia didn't know what Aelfric was trying to do at first, but a moment later, the air around Aelfric seemed to glitter due to an unseen source. The wind magic was absorbed by the air, and Ophilia realized that it was a barrier that seemed to be able to absorb magic. 

However, this suspicion was proven wrong only a moment later when the barrier didn't force the magic to dissipate. Instead, the barrier ejected the magic back in the direction of the rest of the party. Tressa's eyes went wide, and she was hit square in the chest by the attack that she had created in the first place. She slid backwards across the ground before she managed to stab her spear downwards into the shrine floor to keep herself from slipping too free of her own region of control. 

"I have never seenen any magic of this nature," H'aanit commented, her features slipping into a frown. She reached for an arrow before she fired it loose, and the arrow spun through the air before it hit Aelfric in the shoulder. 

The goddess was ultimately unbothered by the attack though. No blood came free of her body, instead only a gentle display of white light. She clasped her hands over her chest, and healing magic flooded through her body. Her injury began to disappear a moment later, fully fading once Aelfric had pulled the arrow from her shoulder and discarded it onto the cave floor below. 

"She's able to heal herself. That means that we need to hit her as fast and hard as possible. The more damage that we can deal in a short amount of time, the better," Olberic declared. He glanced to the rest of the group to make sure that they understood, and they all responded with nods. 

Olberic was the first to rush forward, swinging his sword in a grand arc. Aelfric stepped to the side, even managing to keep her transparent clothing out of the line of fire. She ducked beneath another attack and sidestepped a stab before she summoned an attack of light magic. Olberic was barely able to respond in time, throwing up his sword to deflect the strike. It took a lot more energy than Olberic would have liked to fend off the strike from Aelfric, and he was forced into a hasty retreat after the fact. 

However, that didn't change the fact that Aelfric most certainly did get hit by it, and she was even sent sliding backwards a short distance across the floor of the cave before she managed to gather her composure once again. She threw out an attack of light magic at H'aanit, but the huntress was easily able to jump to the side to keep from being hit. Linde and Hägen quickly closed in around Aelfric, both lashing out with swipes from their claws. 

Therion was the next to rush at Aelfric. He slashed his dagger in a feint attack before striking upwards, hitting Aelfric in the shoulder that had not been injured previously by H'aanit. Aelfric closed her eyes and summoned a blast of light magic that sent him flying backwards. Alfyn managed to grab Therion before he could fully collapse under the weight of the damage that he had been dealt, stabilizing Therion to prevent an incident like what had happened during the ghisarma fight. For a moment, Therion was too stunned silent to fight back, but he did manage to pull himself to regain his composure again a moment later, and he sunk into yet another fighting stance. 

Primrose prepared to lash out with her dagger as Aelfric carefully backed away from Linde and Hägen, refusing to hurt either one of them. She jumped into the air, her ponytail whipping madly before she slashed downwards at Aelfric. The goddess was unable to respond in time, too distracted from the battle against Linde and Hägen. Primrose offered yet another slashing attack before she summoned a blast of darkened magic to hit Aelfric in the chest. The goddess was once again fended backwards with Linde and Hägen jumping away from her when H'aanit let out a whistle to summon them back to her side. 

Cyrus could tell that Aelfric was distracted, and he thought that this would be the perfect time to take advantage of her lapse in focus. He closed his eyes and summoned his energy, and when he was finished, he lashed out with twin attacks of fire that closed in around Aelfric. When the flames faded, there were no burns left behind, not that Cyrus expected much else given the person that he was fighting against. However, Aelfric was still notably rattled, and all it took was a single glance in her direction to be sure of that much. 

Olberic swapped out his sword for a spear, and both him and Tressa began to rush in from either side of Aelfric a moment later. Aelfric ducked beneath the attack from Olberic, but she wasn't ready for the strike that hit her straight in the arm from Tressa. Her staff was left to slip free of her fingers, and Aelfric released a blast of light magic to fend off Tressa and Olberic for a moment to reclaim the weapon with her other hand. She slammed the staff in Tressa's direction when the merchant went to slash at her again, knocking the spear off balance and preventing it from doing any significant damage. 

Olberic, however, was not being kept at bay given the way that Aelfric was already distracted with Tressa, and he took this as his chance to strike out at Aelfric's back. The slash of his blade opened a wide gash along her spine, but Aelfric once again showed no signs of blood from the attack. 

Aelfric did let out a strangled gasp though, and her features grew shocked at the blow that she had sustained. Her defenses dropped for a moment, giving Tressa the chance to lash out with an attack from her spear. Thunder magic followed up the lance stab, and H'aanit quickly showed herself to be the culprit of such thanks to an outstretched hand. 

Once Alfyn was sure that Therion was not at risk of falling over once again, he got ready to lunge in the direction of Aelfric for an attack with his hatchet. However, he was cut off when he noticed Aelfric raising her staff into the air. Another blast of light magic kicked up from the base of Aelfric's feet, spreading outwards and hitting everyone who was within a small radius of her. Tressa and Olberic were once again forced backwards. The magic took quite a while to fade from view, but it was clear that Aelfric was healing her injuries from behind the shield of the light-based magic. 

"We came close," Alfyn told the rest of the group. "Let's keep up the fight and make sure we come out on top!" He ultimately allowed his axe hand to fall by his side, abandoning all ideas of attacking at melee range. Instead, he concentrated his energy on creating a small icicle that jabbed up from the ground, hitting Aelfric in the calf and catching her off guard. She immediately began to stumble, her balance successfully destroyed under the weight of Alfyn's strike. 

Aelfric was once again knocked off kilter when Linde lunged at her, offering a swipe at the leg that Alfyn had just injured. Aelfric was forced to stumble away, and her grip on her staff grew deathly tight in a desperate attempt to keep from losing it in the shuffle. She was so concentrated on using the staff to fend off a potential bite from Linde that she didn't realize that she had let her guard down elsewhere. 

Therion, in all of his quiet stealth, had come up on Aelfric's side and lashed out with his dagger. He dealt a fierce blow to her arm before pulling the knife downwards, only opening a larger gash than before. Aelfric gasped in pain, ready to turn in his direction only to find that Therion had slipped away behind her. Therion held one hand in her direction, creating an explosive sphere of fire that knocked her off balance in a way that gave Linde the chance to break free of her jaw-locked grasp on Aelfric's staff. Linde finally got the chance to bite at Aelfric's arm, and more white light came to pour free of the injury. 

H'aanit nocked an arrow in her bow once again and prepared to fire, only sending it loose after she was sure that Therion wasn't at risk of getting in her way and winding up injured along the way. She struck Aelfric in the area of the bite that Linde had left behind, and the goddess glanced down at the injury from through the cloth that was covering her eyes from view. She wrenched the arrow free of her skin once again before tossing it off to the side of the arena. Her hands began to glow with a familiar pulse of white magic, a sign that she was preparing to heal her injuries once again if nobody got in her way. 

Therion surged behind Aelfric after H'aanit's arrow had been thrown away, and he hit the base of his dagger against the back of the goddess' knuckles, knocking her grip wide open and sending her staff clattering to the ground. Therion closed his shoe over the top of the staff before he slid it across the cave's floor, the weapon finding itself at Ophilia's feet. 

She picked it up as soon as she noticed that it was there, and Ophilia felt the overwhelming power flood her body a moment later. The magic contained in the staff was so immense that it threatened to push her off her feet in a moment of stunned shock. No wonder fighting against Aelfric had proven to be so difficult up to that point; the staff held more than enough power to spur Aelfric onwards despite the trials that she may have faced from the rest of the group. 

Cyrus released a blast of icy magic in Aelfric's direction, hitting the woman with enough force to send her sliding backwards before she could pursue Ophilia in search of her weapon. The ice was followed by a cloud of shadow that appeared at the flick of Primrose's hand, and it lashed out at Aelfric with incredible force. The goddess was brought to one knee from the strength of the attack, one hand braced against the floor of the battlefield. 

The world seemed to stand still after that, and Aelfric rose to her full height a moment later, a light smile spreading across her features. She pressed her hands together over her chest, and her injuries healed. Along with that though, the members of the group felt the power of white magic flood through them, patching up any wounds that may have appeared during the fight. IT was so refreshing that Ophilia felt as if she was being given the chance to breathe for the first time in a thousand years. She knew that it wasn't true, but it might as well have been. 

From there, the battlefield started to melt away, and white light flooded Ophilia's vision. When the inferno--and the spots that danced in front of Ophilia's eyes--finally faded away, she realized that she was back in the cave standing before the altar with the stone carving of a crystal. The rest of the group was gathered behind her, all glancing around in confusion at what had just happened. Just as she was about to ask questions though, the voice of Aelfric began to echo in her mind once again. 

Thou hast proven thyself worthy... I present to thou the gift of the second chance, redoubling thy strength in the face of danger. May the light of the heavens ever guide your way... 

Ophilia watched as a few cracks of white began to appear in the surface of the crystal carving, spreading outwards before they covered the entire statue. From there, the glow spread once again, and Ophilia felt new strength flood her body. It was unexpected, but that didn't mean that it was unwanted. In fact, it was just the opposite. It was so perfect to her that it felt as if all of the pieces were starting to slip together in a way that she never expected. She hadn't even anticipated this to happen to her in the first place, not recognizing that there was something missing to begin with, and yet, it all made sense from there. 

When Ophilia turned to face the rest of the group after the light faded, she could see Tressa's eyes wide as could be. She was holding up a small column of light, unstable and shaky in her fingertips but still most certainly present. Ophilia knew that Tressa hadn't been able to do that before, and she found herself overcome with shock at this new power. 

When Ophilia thought about it though, she knew that there was something different deep inside of her beyond just the new arrival of this supposed gift of the second chance. She didn't know how to truly define it, but Ophilia knew that she had the power to use the same abilities that Aelfric had displayed during the fight. If Tressa's use of light magic was any indication, the rest of the group fell into this category as well, and they were going to be able to fulfill the true power that Aelfric had at her disposal. 

I impart the knowledge of the heavens. May the Sacred Flame ever light your path. 

Ophilia didn't know what exactly shifted in her mind, but she knew that Aelfric's voice would no longer be echoing in the back of her head after that. She hadn't exactly gotten much in terms of confirmation regarding the words of the goddess up to that point, but Ophilia couldn't help but feel as if she would be able to put the pieces together. It was merely an instinct, but she knew that she had to follow it through to the end. What other choice did she have given the circumstances?

Ophilia knew that the voice that she had been hearing undoubtedly belonged to Aelfric, and as far as she could tell, it was tied with the Ember. None of the others could overhear her voice, so if Ophilia had to guess, it was because of the fact that she held the title of Flamebearer that had been passed down from Aelfric so many generations ago. This was hardly going to be the last that Ophilia heard from Aelfric as far as she was concerned too; after all, she was still going to have the Ember on her even after she left the shrine behind. 

The way that Aelfric referred to the group bothered Ophilia as well, primarily because she didn't know what it was that the goddess had meant. Aelfric insisted that they were set to play important roles in a destiny much larger than themselves, but what was that even supposed to mean? The fact that Ophilia didn't know where to start bothered her, but she knew that she wasn't going to be able to find any answers about this so-called fate without going out to face it herself. 

Ophilia offered one final glimpse around the cave to make sure that there was nothing of note for her to see, and afterwards, she retreated a step backwards. "Alright... I believe that's all that we're going to find here," she told the rest of the group. She gave the statue of the crystal a final yearning glance before she started to walk away. 

The rest of the group trailed after her, and even if none of them expressly spoke about the experience, Ophilia knew that they were thinking about it. How could they not be? There was so much that they had just seen, and it would take a while to break it all down for easier understanding. However, that was a task for Stillsnow, and they could focus on figuring out what was set to come next after they arrived. Night was falling, and they had to stay safe. 

Somehow though, Ophilia knew that Aelfric would ensure their security no matter what happened to them from then on. It was only an instinct, but Ophilia trusted it with everything she had. 

The Ember glowed brighter at her side. 

Chapter Text

It didn't take long for the party to reach Stillsnow after they departed from the shrine of Aelfric. The cave closed itself away from the world once again as soon as they had left, and the Ember's glow started to die down. The words of the goddess continued to ring in all of their ears, offering reminders of this supposed power of second chance that Aelfric had provided them. Beyond that, the goddess of light had offered them all the ability to use her specific brand of magic, including those who had never tried to do so before. All of Aelfric's gifts had been granted to the team, and they would be more than able to take advantage of them from then on. 

Stillsnow wound up first appearing to the group as an outline on the horizon, a small silhouette of black against the cerulean blue of the setting sun of the Frostlands. Since the sky was perpetually shrouded by clouds that consistently offered new flakes to the ground below, it was impossible to see the actual sun in the Frostlands, but it was easy to see when the day was drawing to a close. The normal pale blue of the clouds was dyed bright blue before tapering out to navy as a marker of the ending day, and Ophilia found herself relishing in the snowy colors as Stillsnow grew ever nearer. 

The group had been quiet ever since they left the shrine behind, and they had been lucky enough to not be attacked by any wild monsters. Ophilia had to wonder if perhaps this was a gift that Aelfric had left behind for them, temporary safety from the brutality that the monsters of Orsterra were capable of unleashing upon unsuspecting travelers. She still held the Ember a bit tighter as a path began to emerge from the snow below. 

Stillsnow offered a climate that Ophilia was used to, and she was glad that she had dressed for the weather when she first left behind Flamesgrace. In Ophilia's opinion, it was always best to have dressed too much for the weather than to have not dressed enough. She would be able to take off her cloak if she had to, but she wouldn't be able to add more fabric if she grew too chilled. 

Tressa and Alfyn, clearly not used to the scathingly cold climate of the Frostlands, had shown signs of shivering since the group left the shrine behind. The temperature in the cave had evened itself out to be tolerable regardless of the attire of the travelers, but that benefit had been ultimately short-lived. Both of them practically melted with relief at the sight of Stillsnow in the distance. 

The town itself was a simple place, Ophilia found. Stillsnow was hardly anywhere near as large as Flamesgrace, instead simply consisting of a few relevant buildings in the main area of town. The inn could be seen nearby as long with stores for weapons, clothes, and other supplies. Tressa and Alfyn stared longingly at the shop that would provide them with warmer clothing to combat the cold temperatures, and Ophilia already knew where they were going to be spending their time for at least the coming half hour. 

Primrose didn't seem to mind the cold contrary to Ophilia's expectations. Given that Primrose was from the Sunlands, it only made sense that she would detest the chilled temperatures of the Frostlands, but she didn't seem to mind in the slightest. It was as if she wasn't focusing in the slightest on what was happening around her. Primrose's dark eyes had been overcome by an unfocused and glassy texture, like she was entirely detached from the situation at hand. Ophilia couldn't help but feel a pang of concern knowing that they were there for Primrose to begin with, and she was the one struggling to focus upon their arrival. Then again, perhaps that was the whole point. 

"It's getting late," Olberic declared. "I'm off to get us a few rooms for the night at the local inn. We're going to want to get settled as soon as possible. I... I sense something is amiss in this town."

Ophilia was admittedly taken aback by that at first. Stillsnow was the closest place that she had found in terms of climate when compared to Flamesgrace, and as such, it seemed to feel the most like home compared to the other places that the party had explored up to that point. She didn't know what Olberic was referring to, saying that there was something amiss with a place that felt so much like a perfect snowy paradise to Ophilia. 

But as soon as he said it, Ophilia knew that there was something wrong. It was as if her instincts hadn't fully kicked in until after Olberic pointed out what was going on, and after that, she couldn't stop noticing it. The knot in the pit of her stomach grew worse, and Ophilia's frown grew overwhelming. It wasn't as if the unfortunate aura of the town was as notable as Sunshade's had been, but it was still something to be wary of, and after what had happened in Sunshade, Ophilia knew better than to let her guard down. 

A purr could be heard off to the side, and Ophilia glanced over to see H'aanit chuckling under her breath at the sight of Linde bounding around excitedly in the snow. Linde was a snow leopard, so it was only natural that she would enjoy the climate of the region. Linde seemed to want to nuzzle her face against H'aanit's hand as a way of dragging her hunting partner off to explore, and her feline smile couldn't be restrained. Ophilia hadn't realized that cats could express their joy in such a way until she saw the gleam in Linde's eyes, something so notably excited that it didn't even seem to be real. 

"I will stayen with Linde," H'aanit declared to the group. She leaned over and scratched the leopard behind the ears gently. "She is glade to returnen to her homeland, and her energy is hardly suited for an inn room at present. I shall reuniten with thou shortly." She stopped petting at Linde's head as she took a small step back, giving the white cat the chance to start roaming around the entrance to the town once again. Luckily, there weren't any other occupants of the town to stare at Linde's kitten-like behavior, so the only ones who did anything to observe the snow leopard were the members of the party themselves. Hägen watched Linde with what Ophilia assumed was an old-soul expression, only halfway understanding the excitement that had overcome Linde. 

"Let's go to the inn to get our rooms then," Cyrus declared with a light smile. "Ophilia, Therion, Primrose, would you like to come with Olberic and I? I presume that Tressa and Alfyn will be searching for warmer attire first."

Ophilia nodded, and Therion didn't offer much of a response. He glanced around the rest of the town, his visible eye narrowing. "I'm going to look around," he said in the place of an open disagreement. He slunk away soon afterwards, claimed by the shadows themselves as he disappeared from view. 

Once Therion was gone, Olberic and Cyrus turned their attention to Primrose silently. The dancer still hadn't responded, and Ophilia couldn't help but feel that even the dancer's warmer attire wasn't entirely what she needed to endure the harsh temperatures of the Frostlands. It was as if Primrose didn't even notice that though, too busy watching the snowflakes below to bother register the chill around her, much less the fact that she had been asked a question by Cyrus a few moments prior. Primrose was too lost in her own thoughts to care about the rest of the world, and to Ophilia, that was the most concerning thing of all. 

"Primrose?" Olberic questioned once again after a short period of silence came over them. Cyrus and Ophilia both watched patiently, waiting for an answer with concern in their eyes. 

Primrose finally seemed to come back to her senses when she felt the eyes of the others on her once again. "H-Huh?" she questioned. It took her a moment to figure out what question she was meant to be answering in the first place, but once she did, she smiled tensely, undoubtedly caught by surprise. That was clearly impacting her ability to put on her regular show, but she did her best to hide it regardless. "O-Oh, yes... Let's go."

Cyrus offered Primrose another brief glance of confusion before he turned on his heel and started to walk in the direction of the inn. Olberic followed after him with Primrose trailing in their path next. Ophilia shook her head as she watched Primrose from behind. She had an awful feeling about how nervous Primrose seemed to have gotten, and she could only hope that the other girl decided to open up to them soon enough about her issues. 

~~~~~

Therion had been to the colder towns of Orsterra before, and his clothing had been made specifically so that he would be able to weave through the chill without any worries. In Therion's opinion, it was better to be hot than cold, an opinion that was formed after one too many nights in the chill of a midnight sting. 

As such, he didn't particularly mind the fact that he was wearing warm clothing in a cold place. He was going to be fine, and he would undoubtedly only feel better when he got to the inn and was out of the elements. It had stopped snowing, and Therion was glad for that much. The Frostlands had more than enough snow as it was, and it had to let up every once in a while. 

Therion could feel something wrong with Stillsnow. He had been there once in the past, but it was his only time visiting the town because he knew that there was something amiss about this peculiar town. At a first glance, it appeared to be perfectly innocent, but Therion knew better than to trust surface level information. After all, he had trusted outward appearances before, and it had nearly driven him into an early grave. 

In a way, Stillsnow seemed to come to life at night. That was something Therion had noticed during his last trip there. Some people only seemed to show themselves at night, and the tavern was such a shady place that Therion, regularly a connoisseur of all types of mead, decided to stay as far away as he could manage. He wanted nothing to do with the place, and as far as he could tell, he wasn't the only one. There were many people who seemed to walk a little bit faster when the tavern came into view, and Therion only took it as evidence that there was something extremely wrong with the town as whole. 

There was one building in particular that sat against the regular aesthetic of the town, and Therion couldn't help but glare at it from afar. Other buildings were all made to sustain the chill and keep the occupants warm, but that was no the case in the slightest with this one refuge from the cold. It was simple and brown, flat and close to the snow with only a single door on one side and a chimney on the roof far from the street. The building was close to the tavern as well, and when the two structures were compared, it almost seemed as if they didn't even belong in the same town in the first place. The tavern was one of the nicest in physical appearance that Therion had ever seen, and yet, he didn't think that anyone would be able to pay him enough money to set foot inside knowing that there was something wrong. 

The barkeep had been a reputable enough man as far as Therion could tell. There wasn't anything that appeared to be wrong with him on a surface level, but there was still something going on in his business, like the trouble hung in the air around him rather than consuming him. It was enough for Therion to be suspicious, and he knew that he was going to have to figure out what was happening one way or another. 

It was merely a gut instinct that told him this was the case, but Therion wasn't going to be able to ignore it. He didn't know much about Primrose, her mission, or why she was going to Stillsnow in the first place, but it was just a matter of time before he heard what her reasoning was. Stillsnow was a place that even Therion, a master thief until his most recent heist, wanted to avoid at all costs, so what the hell could Primrose want from it? 

Therion had nabbed a few leaves and Soulstones from the pockets of passerby and was currently shuffling his fingers around in his cloak to feel for the weight and value of everything that he had picked up when he saw something out of the corner of his eye. Therion looked up, seeing that there was something wrong immediately. Something deep down told him to reach for his dagger even though he knew realistically that he was safe. He was out in the open, so there was nothing to fear, right? 

Soon though, Therion realized that it wasn't as if he was in any type of danger; instead, he was simply bothered by the attire of the person who had passed by. It was a girl wearing an outfit that Therion had once seen on the dancers of Sunshade on the other side of Orsterra. Therion had only been there once as well, wanting to be sick the second that he caught a glimpse of the tavern's owner, but as soon as he saw the dancer, Therion realized exactly why he thought something was wrong with Stillsnow. 

It wasn't something that people would notice at a first glance, but Stillsnow had the same terrifying issues that Sunshade did. There was something lurking in the shadows, and it was undoubtedly related to the way that Sunshade treated the women who lived within its boundaries. Stillsnow had dancers wearing similar attire that was only slightly adapted to the extreme cold of the Frostlands, and the dancer that passed by was wearing the same expression of horrified shame that the dancers of Sunshade once had. 

Therion was glued to the spot for a long moment, simply staring at the dancer even though she had no interest in him. She vanished around a corner a few beats later, and it was only then that Therion was able to pull himself out of his internal trance. His eyes were wide, and his heart was beating much faster and louder than he had realized beforehand. Every part of his body knew that there was something wrong with this town, and he wouldn't be able to deny it no matter how hard he tried, not that he even wanted to attempt that in the first place. 

It took another handful of moments for Therion to pull himself together enough to start walking away. He shoved his face down into his scarf, his breath puffing out as a white trail in front of his nostrils. He didn't trust being alone in this town for longer than a few minutes, and even that was questionable. He didn't know what in the world Primrose wanted from this place, but he prayed that she didn't get herself sucked into hell along the way. 

~~~~~

Primrose was lucky enough to be able to spend some time alone in her room for a short while. Since H'aanit was out letting Linde run out her energy, Primrose was alone in the room that they were sharing. Cyrus and Olberic were together in the room across the hall with Ophilia and Tressa next door. Finally, Alfyn and Therion were diagonal from the space that Primrose would be sharing with H'aanit for the night. They had been lucky enough to all get rooms gathered in the same area, a privilege that they likely wouldn't be offered the next time that they were in a town. 

Primrose was relieved that H'aanit was occupied by her partner's burst of activity. She needed time to think all of this over, and she knew that she was going to have to confront the beast in the room sooner or later. She wouldn't be able to keep the rest of the group in the dark for too much longer. Primrose didn't know if she wanted them to get involved with her problems in the first place, but she was also smart enough to know that sneaking in and trying to take out the crow would be too risky on her own. 

They still didn't know what they were getting into. Primrose hadn't been able to tell them, and nobody had bothered to breach the subject yet either. It wasn't as if her fight against Helgenish had yielded much in the way of answers for her companions. It was a simple affair that was only tangentially related to her search, not offering any information for those who she was traveling with. In other words, that meant that the full story was going to have to come from her own lips, and Primrose couldn't tell if she preferred that or hated it more than the alternative. 

They were in Stillsnow because of her mission. She was the reason that they had come here, and if not for her motivations, they would have been able to coast right through town to move on and head into Noblecourt as per Therion's mission. Primrose hated the idea of going back to Noblecourt even after all this time, still feeling the taste of disgrace on the back of her tongue, but she wouldn't be able to avoid it forever. Was Stillsnow a welcome or unwanted obstacle to her old home? Why didn't she have a conclusive answer to that question?

Primrose let out a heavy sigh as she shook her head. She wouldn't be able to run forever. It seemed as if that was all that she had been doing ever since she left Stillsnow, but it wasn't an option that she could take advantage of each day from then on. She forced herself to stay moving so that she would be able to avoid the internal fallout that would come from grieving Yusufa, but everything was going to fall apart soon. Stillsnow was going to be their temporary home for at least another few days, and this was where the next step of Primrose's journey would be taking place. 

It was only a matter of time before H'aanit returned to the room, and while H'aanit was more than able to respect silence, she was bound to ask at least something about what was happening. H'aanit knew how to strike to the heart of a matter, and she was going to want to try and figure out what Primrose was struggling against internally. H'aanit was arguably the best at giving people space save for perhaps Therion, but the others in the group were going to find themselves curious sooner or later. 

The mission was going to be taking place the next day. Everyone was too tired from the battle against Aelfric to charge off into danger for the time being, and that meant Primrose had at most twenty-four hours to try and find a way to explain everything to her companions. It wasn't going to be easy, but she had held it off for long enough, and that wasn't going to be a luxury that she kept forever. 

Primrose could only imagine their responses when she explained that she was searching for the killers of her father to murder them in cold blood. For all of the respectability that they thought she had, she was awfully willing to betray their trust just after she had been given the chance to earn it. She was not the same person that they thought she was. She had cried over Yusufa and shown the true extent of grief in the deserts around Sunshade, but she wasn't the same person that they dreamed her to be. She was a traitor and setting herself up to dip her hands in blood until she couldn't scrape it from beneath her nails. Primrose could only hope that she didn't spend so long staring at the creases of her palms when she killed the crows in comparison to how she had been in the aftermath of Yusufa's death. 

It was all too easy for Primrose to shove her face into her palms. She welcomed the heat that it brought to her cheeks, almost wishing that it would be able to take her somewhere that rested between the drastic bone-deep chill of Stillsnow and the scorching heat of Sunshade. Noblecourt's climate was somewhere in the middle ground, and yet, she didn't want to go there yet either. 

Primrose didn't know how she was going to handle returning home. She was certainly going to have to hide her true identity while they were there, but hopefully it wouldn't be too hard for her to acquire a cloak while she was in Stillsnow. If she had known that they were going to be heading to Noblecourt, she would have purchased something of that nature while they were still in Clearbrook all that time ago, and yet, life had ways of shifting in unexpected directions. 

But sulking and thinking about how she was going to carry out her responsibilities was hardly productive. She had to get out there and make sure that she actually spoke with the other members of the group the way that she knew she had to. They wouldn't be able to help her until she explained what she was searching for in the first place. It was required no matter how much she wished to get out of it. 

The main thing that was holding her back was the fact that she feared their reactions. Primrose had made her peace years ago with walking this path alone, and Yusufa had been the first sign of a change in that respect. And yet, Yusufa never got the chance to understand the true extent of Primrose's secrets or struggles, and the rest of the group was going to have no choice but to face her deepest stabs of honesty, flaws and all. Was this going to be what pushed them over the edge to part ways? Would her actions be what sent them all fleeing in horror of the monster that she was bound to become? It wouldn't surprise her in the slightest, and she knew that it was inevitable for people to leave under these pretenses, but it cut much deeper than she anticipated regardless. 

Primrose could have sworn that she heard a knock at the door, and the mere assumption that there was someone coming to see her made her feel as if she was going to leap free of her skin at a moment's notice. In the end, she realized that the sound had actually come from the door one room over. In other words, it was likely Tressa coming back to see Ophilia after they had gotten their room at the inn. 

Primrose didn't allow herself to relax at that revelation though. She wasn't going to allow herself to hide this any longer than she already had, and that meant that she was going to finally have to tell the rest of the group about everything that she had been hiding beneath the surface. They had a right to know, and even if this was what caused everything to fall apart, Primrose would deal with the consequences when the time was right. She had known this was coming from the start, and she shouldn't have allowed herself to get attached in the first place. Her attachment to Yusufa had felt like an arrow to the chest back in Sunshade, and it had gotten someone killed. The least that Primrose could do was either give them the chance to walk away before they were dragged into something that they wished to avoid or to alert them of the danger that they were in by associating with her. 

Primrose could see that Alfyn and Therion had both returned to the hallway as well, though Alfyn was the first one of them to notice that Primrose was present. He perked up as he fumbled with the key that would allow him to enter the room that he was sharing with Therion for the night, one eyebrow raising in Primrose's direction. "What's going on, Prim?" he questioned, and Primrose pretended that his affectionate nickname didn't make her want to be sick at the reminder of Yusufa and the taste of blood on the back of her tongue. 

"We need to talk," Primrose told him simply. That was enough to catch Therion's attention as well, and he looked up at her with confusion in his one visible eye. He seemed to shelve it a moment later to make sure that nobody noticed what he was thinking, and with that, he started to walk a bit closer to her, seemingly realizing that she was going to be needing his presence when she started speaking about whatever was on her mind. 

"What about?" Alfyn questioned, an anxious smile starting to spread across his face, the last veil of defense between him and the nerves that were starting to take over in the wake of Primrose's sudden struggles. 

"I need to speak with all of you," Primrose corrected in the place of a proper response. She was only going to be able to say this once, and she had to get it all out in that single attempt at conversation. That was simply how it was going to have to be if she wanted to find a way to push through this. 

Alfyn hesitated before he nodded, seeming to realize just how serious Primrose was about this. He knew better than to protest something that she was clearly searching for so desperately, so he simply turned his attention to the next room over to tell Cyrus and Olberic about what was coming next. Therion, meanwhile, looked up to her with a wary glance, something that seemed almost shaken to the core in a way that Primrose hadn't expected. Anyone who wasn't used to reading others wouldn't have caught it, but Primrose was better at recognizing uncertainty in the eyes of others than she chose to show openly. It was how she had survived over the past ten years, and it would help her to push through the next few legs of her journey as well. 

H'aanit came walking in from down the hallway a moment later, Linde and Hägen trailing effortlessly in her path. Hägen seemed to have the aura of a father looking after a child, something that wasn't entirely unexpected given the way that Linde had been behaving earlier. Primrose chose to not acknowledge the sensation of the animals though, instead simply focusing her attention on H'aanit a moment later, her eyes narrowing. "We have to talk," she told the huntress intensely. 

"Oh? What plagueth thee?" H'aanit questioned, her tone growing strangely heavy when she saw how many lead weights were dragging down Primrose's gaze. She looked over Primrose a moment later, seeking any signs that would tell her what it was that she had to know about the discussion to come. 

"I'll tell you soon," Primrose answered simply, once again taking the chance to not offer a true response. She turned to walk into the room that she and H'aanit were sharing for the time being, though it wouldn't surprise her if she wound up being pushed out of it before the night ended. After all, it wouldn't be entirely shocking for the group to abandon her. She was the one who had taken so long to tell them about her issues, and that was going to bite her sooner rather than later as far as she could tell. 

Alfyn moved to retrieve Tressa and Ophilia as Olberic and Cyrus glanced to one another in confusion, having arrived out in the hallway after hearing Alfyn's brief yet confused explanation as to the fact that Primrose needed to speak with them. Primrose was distantly aware of the words that Alfyn was speaking the same way that she knew vaguely of the fact that H'aanit had entered the room and sat down on the floor, Linde and Hägen both settling down on either side of her. She stroked gently at the heads of the pair of animals, her eyes not drifting to Primrose despite her clear desire to learn what was bothering the dancer to such a degree. 

Primrose knew that there was no way for her to go back from this point. She was the one who had made the choice to tell them, and she had only been able to get away with her silence for so long. This was going to be the conversation that changed everything for better or worse, and Primrose was ready to accept whatever outcome was handed to her by the universe. This was her mistake to take accountability for, and the responses of the other members of the group were unimportant to her. 

That was what she told herself, doing her best to shove aside the sense of camaraderie that had risen in her core in the aftermath of meeting the group. She was glad to have them to lean on in the fallout that came after Yusufa's murder, but at the same time, Primrose knew that she couldn't become too reliant. After all, she had dragged Yusufa down, and she refused to do that to anyone else. 

But she didn't care how they responded. Right? 

Chapter Text

The story had come out in one large burst when Primrose was finally able to gather the party together so that she could share the truth of her rationale behind traveling in the first place. She couldn't seem to make herself stop talking once she had started, and the words simply flowed in a way that she couldn't prevent. Primrose sounded more like she was talking about bad weather or a simple report with her tone, detached and dismal as it was, rather than her darkest traumas and issues. Then again, Primrose supposed that it was easier to frame her issues in that way when push came to shove. 

She refused to make eye contact with anyone as she explained the story, instead choosing to concentrate on the floor below. She didn't give anyone the chance to offer much of a response either, figuring that she would be able to face their disgust after everything had already been placed out on the table for them to understand. It was better to cope with it all at once rather than to deal with the painstaking process of everything being dripped down to her mind and emotions as the minutes went by, after all. 

When Primrose finally did glance up, her explanation finishing with the fact that she was following the path Helgenish had left behind, she was met with seven expressions of horror. Even Linde and Hägen, animalistic as they were, seemed to realize that there was something incredibly solemn being discussed. Primrose's immediate reaction to the horrified expressions was to prepare to rise to her feet and gather her things to leave. Surely H'aanit would prefer to sleep alone in the room for the night anyway, especially given that she had multiple animals following her trail with every passing second. 

That was when the unexpected happened. Tressa, who had been sitting near Primrose on the bed, practically threw herself at the dancer, her arms wrapping around the brown-haired woman's torso. Primrose was still as could be for a long moment, unsure of how she was meant to respond to this, before she shifted her attention so that she was staring down at Tressa directly. Something in the back of her mind instructed her to say something, anything, but she wasn't able to actually convince her mouth to follow those directions. 

"That's awful... I'm so sorry you had to go through that," Tressa murmured. "I wish that I could kill Helgenish again, but I know that we can't bring back the dead."

Primrose couldn't help but feel as if she had been the one stabbed in the chest at those words rather thane Helgenish, the knife twisting in the cavern of her ribcage. Still, she did her best to shake it off, though that did little to help with the fact that she was still breathless and struggling to say much of anything in response to Tressa's reaction to the tale. 

"I don't know what to say..." Ophilia said, her eyes still wide as could be. "Those three men who killed your father... I understand why you're doing this, Primrose. I can see why you decided to hide it from us up to this point too. This is a lot to handle all at once, but you aren't going to have to face it on your own anymore."

Primrose wanted to say something. Truly, she did, but she wasn't able to make herself no matter how hard she tried. Instead, she was ultimately cut off by a decisive nod from none other than Alfyn. "I agree with Phili. You want to go after them because they destroyed your childhood and took your father away from you, and that's not something that I can particularly fault you for. Just... Don't try to do all of this on your own, alright? Helgenish sounds like he was dangerous enough, and these men of the crow are bound to be worse."

"Surely there are no objections to us continuing to accompany you from here on out," Olberic said as he eyed Primrose with hardened determination and scrutiny. His arms were crossed, and everything about him was somewhat shaded. Then again, Primrose supposed that if anybody was going to understand what she was struggling with, it was going to be him. After all, Olberic was on a quest that could potentially lead him to revenge as well, so he was bound to comprehend the issue that she was attempting to confront. 

His words were enough to send Primrose crashing back down to Earth. She glanced around the room, finding the sympathetic eyes of Cyrus, Ophilia, and Alfyn along the way. Both Olberic and H'aanit's expressions had grown stony and hardened, and Therion's face was hidden beneath his scarf, but there was clearly something on his mind even so. Tressa's face was out of view, but Primrose was still sure that she could imagine the worried expression that the younger girl wore. 

"No... Of course I don't have any issues with that," Primrose said, doing her best to ignore the voice at the back of her mind that whispered that it was just a matter of time before she lost them too. She resisted the urge to pick at the skin beneath her nails once again, the sensation of Yusufa's blood starting to rise in the forefront of her head for what felt like the millionth time. 

Continuing to speak took much more effort than Primrose was willing to admit, but she managed to push through regardless. "I... I just wanted you to know what you were getting into before we advanced any further. I understand that this is hardly what you were expecting to find yourselves involved with, and I wanted you to be aware of what was coming next," she explained. "The path that I walk is a dangerous one, and the last thing that I want is for any of you to feel obligated to accompany me on it."

"We're friends, aren't we?" Tressa questioned as she looked up to Primrose from the grand display of a hug that she had been performing. "You've done a lot to help us out up to this point, and if this is what you think is best, then... We trust you. Of course we trust your judgement, Primrose."

The word struck Primrose strangely. It wasn't that she particularly disliked being called someone's friend, but there was something in the deepest part of her mind that was screaming that this was wrong, that it had to be some kind of mistake. She was more than happy to have companions that she could stand alongside, but the paranoia of something falling out of her control remained all the same. She had gone without friends for years, and when she finally managed to connect with Yusufa, everything came crashing down around her. She wouldn't ever be able to help Yusufa again, but she would be able to escape this situation if she had to. Maybe she would be able to keep the group from getting hurt and take the brunt of the danger herself by traveling on her own. 

But no matter how much Primrose tried to convince herself that this was the best option, she found herself smiling down at Tressa gently. The taste of betrayal rose on the back of her tongue, but she did her best to ignore it, her conflicting emotions threatening to smother her if she wasn't careful enough to push her way out of the hurricane swirling around her, the dancer at the eye of the storm. She found herself nodding. "Alright... If you understand what's happening and still wish to help me, then I suppose that I can't stop you," Primrose told the rest of the group, continuing to do what she could to ignore the anxiety mounting quickly and firmly at the back of her head, though that remained easier said than done. 

"We'll do what we can to help you no matter what," Ophilia assured Primrose with a gentle smile that seemed to be just as bright as the sun despite the lack of overhead light in the dim, darkened town of Stillsnow. 

All Primrose could do was offer a pathetic imitation of that very same smile in return. She didn't know how to respond to this, but she sure did hope that she was able to work through her feelings sooner rather than later, because she was already starting to drive herself up a wall with her lack of understanding. For once, something in her life hadn't gone horribly wrong, and in a way, that was the worst part of this whole situation. 

~~~~~

Even hours later, after all of the other people in the room had streamed out to go to their own rooms, Primrose couldn't stop thinking about the conversation where she told them everything about her past. She stared up at the ceiling vacantly, unable to figure out how she was meant to feel no matter what she was supposed to feel. Her chest had swallowed anything resembling positive emotion, leaving behind an empty gap where she knew grief was supposed to be. Why was she mourning people who had vowed to stay by her side? Why did it feel like they were already destined for death just by agreeing to stand by her side as she pressed on in the name of her destiny, her vengeance? That had happened to Yusufa, hadn't it? Perhaps her going with them was her mistake, driven purely by her wandering mind in the wake of Yusufa's loss. She shouldn't have put them in danger in the first place, right? This was all wrong. Everything was wrong, and she was going to have to fave the consequences of that soon enough. 

Night had fallen properly, and the group had wound up eating in the inn's lobby thanks to the building offering food for residents each night. Primrose had been silent the entire meal, unable to force herself to meet the gazes of anyone else in the group. It felt wrong for her to reach out to them and ask for much of anything, so she instead resolved to remain quiet. That was what she deserved, and it would be easier for all of them if she stayed on her own until it was necessary to break out of her shell. That way, they would be in as little danger as possible. The last thing that she wanted was to pull them into her fight in full. It didn't feel right. 

Her mind was a war between her own selfish indulgence and her knowledge of what was right. Primrose shouldn't have been dragging them off into her own issues, and she was making a mistake with each passing second that she stayed with them. Still, she couldn't seem to force herself to leave no matter how hard she tried. She wanted to be with them even though she knew that she was being selfish and putting them at risk because she couldn't admit that she couldn't let go. She didn't want to release the last traces of love that she had in her life after Yusufa's death. She had been given a taste of what it meant to not be alone when Yusufa confessed her friendship, and then, it was gone like ashes on the wind only moments later. Primrose knew that she had to surrender her own emotions in the name of their safety, but that was so much easier said than done, and she couldn't seem to take the first step no matter how much she knew that she was messing this up. 

Primrose rolled over once again, her eyes falling on the wall. She couldn't sleep, and she didn't think that she was going to be able to rest for quite some time. H'aanit had seemingly fallen asleep quite some time ago, drifted off under the influence of their long day and difficult battle against the goddess Aelfric. To Primrose, it was almost impossible to believe that they had been in S'warkii that morning. The battle against the ghisarma had been less than eighteen hours prior. How did that feel like a lifetime ago with Sunshade even farther into the past? 

"Primrose?"

The sound of H'aanit's voice struck Primrose perfectly still. Her shoulders went tense, too weary from her internal battle to put on a mask that made it seem as if she wasn't arguing with herself as to if abandonment was her best option. She was glad that she wasn't looking in H'aanit's direction so that the huntress wouldn't be able to see the fact that she looked like a dear caught in the line of a bow. 

H'aanit sat up in bed, shifting her legs off to the side of the mattress. "I knowen that thou is awake," H'aanit said coolly, clearly not deceived by Primrose's attempt at a late-night performance. She sat there for a long moment, examining every inch of Primrose's body silently in a wish to pull the girl from her facade. 

Primrose seemed to understand that she wasn't going to be able to escape H'aanit's scrutiny after a handful of moments passed where H'aanit didn't go back to sleep. She sat up slowly, uncaring as to how messy and haphazard her brown hair was as it cascaded down her shoulders, her hair tie abandoned for the night. Primrose pressed a smile onto her face despite the fact that she knew she was full of crap. "Is something the matter?" Primrose asked, throwing up a final defense in an attempt to keep from falling apart under the weight of her own issues. 

H'aanit's eyes narrowed, and Primrose resisted the urge to shrivel under the huntress' critical gaze. Somehow, everything about her was even more striking than Helgenish had been, and Primrose felt as if the huntress was able to see through every wall that she had constructed over the past ten years to critically watch the little girl at the heart of the collapsed concrete castle in Noblecourt that lived inside of Primrose's soul. It was as if Primrose was the one who had been struck in the heart by an arrow rather than the ghisarma that fell earlier that morning. 

H'aanit didn't even need to say anything for Primrose's shoulders to deflate as she finally gave up on all attempts at continuing to hold her facade. She wasn't going to be able to get away with this, and she was fully aware of such a fact. Primrose didn't know what to say in response to H'aanit's staring either, so she simply looked at the huntress through the darkness, glad that Linde and Hägen were asleep on the ground and thus unable to make distractions that would likely only make this situation more excruciating than it already was. 

"What plagueth thou?" H'aanit questioned simply, the inquiry striking true without any issues. "I can seen that there remaineth something on thy mind. Hiding the truthe doesen nothing but distress thee. Speak thy mind, Primrose."

The dancer wished that it was that easy to say what was bothering her. She couldn't even seem to articulate the truth of her emotions to herself. What could she even say? 'I want to leave because I'm dragging you all into my problems even though you agreed to help me in spite of the demons that I bring'? That didn't seem right. Nothing seemed right. Primrose's throat seemed to close up on her, refusing to give her the chance to squeak out even a word or two that would explain what it was that continued to keep her awake late into the night and apparently thrashing around loudly enough in her bed to wake H'aanit. 

"None of this is right," Primrose finally managed to push herself to say around the gap in her chest that seemed to be perfectly content with trying to swallow her whole. "You shouldn't have to be involved with issues of mine. None of you asked for this, and it's wrong for me to ask you to join me in defeating the men of the crow. This is a dangerous path that I walk, and I don't want any of you to get hurt."

H'aanit held up one hand after Primrose was finished speaking. "We volunteered for this danger. We aren here because we chose to be. Thou hast nothing to fearen; this was our decision," she said carefully. 

"You could get hurt, and I don't want any of you to put yourselves at risk for my sake. None of it is worth it, and the last thing I want is to drag you into issues that don't involve you to begin with," Primrose continued, her voice coming out strangely dark. There was a figure in the back of her mind that looked strangely like Yusufa that appeared heartbroken as she spoke those words. Not for the first time and certainly not for the last, Primrose had to wonder what Yusufa would think of her if she knew the truth about what Primrose was trying to do. Would Yusufa have ever said such kind things to her if she knew that Primrose was going to use her power to turn around and murder people in cold blood? Would Yusufa have been so nice if she knew the truth of Primrose Azelhart, lady of Noblecourt, rather than Primrose, a nameless and faceless dancer from Sunshade? 

"And taking on all the risk by thyself is a bettere decision?" H'aanit questioned, her gaze as critical as it was striking as she watched Primrose with analysis in her eyes. 

That was enough to immediately render Primrose silent; she wanted to say that she agreed with that being the best choice, but no matter how hard she tried to convince herself to speak those words, she couldn't manage to force them out. It didn't feel right for her to push people away when she had finally found her home. Once again, she repeated inwardly that she was as selfish as it got. She couldn't put herself over the wellbeing of others; Yusufa had paid that price once before, and the last thing Primrose wanted was to leave a trail of innocent blood in her wake. 

"Precisely what I thought," H'aanit told her, seemingly having realized that Primrose wasn't able to answer the question. "Thou will not be able to pushen us away. We made our decision. Thou cannot stoppen us now."

Primrose offered H'aanit a small nod at those words, knowing that she was going to have to take quite a bit of time before she would be fully able to register them as truth. She didn't know how she was going to convince herself that this was the case, but she would figure it out one way or another. She owed this much to herself, didn't she? Was that even true? How was she supposed to find the truth anymore when she barely understood what she was trying to accomplish aside from vague outlines ten years in the making? 

"Alright," Primrose forced herself to say as she licked her lips, desperate to fill them with some degree of warmth in the wake of the Stillsnow air's bitter chill. She eased herself back against the mattress below, still uncertain as to how she was supposed to process everything that she was hearing from H'aanit. None of it felt right, and everything tasted a little bit like betrayal on a fundamental level, leaving Primrose unable to tear the ugly twinge from her tongue no matter how hard she tried. 

"Getten some rest. When dawne arriveth, we pressen on to the man of the crow," H'aanit declared, saying it less as a suggestion and more of a statement. Everyone was going to be there whether Primrose wanted them to come along or not; they weren't going to be taking her rejection as an answer, and they were going to be present no matter what. H'aanit was just the beginning, hardly the most stubborn of the group's members, and they were all bound to side with her when the morning did come and their mission was placed before them. 

Primrose offered an imperceptible nod into the darkness, and this time, when her face hit the pillow, she found herself overwhelmed with exhaustion. However, she knew that this had nothing to do with the fact that she felt better about the situation. The guilt still felt like it was consuming her, and she didn't think that she was going to be able to escape it no matter what. Her emotional battle had wiped her of all energy though, and Primrose knew better than to fight her body's needs. She would work this out in the morning, but for the time being, she had a mission to prepare for one way or another. 

~~~~~

Primrose was, unsurprisingly, restless as soon as the barest streaks of sunshine began to clear up the darkened gray into a pastel silver on the horizon line. Primrose rose with the sun, something that she had never done back in Sunshade when all work seemed to end with the dawning day instead. It only took her body a handful of moments to remind her of everything that she was to be looking forward to that day, and her stomach knotted itself into something nauseating a moment later. 

She was going to kill the first of the crows that day. 

Primrose had been waiting for the day for years upon years, spending so long in the tavern of Sunshade as her last ditch effort of picking up any bare trace of a clue that she could get her hands on. Still, that didn't erase the fact that all of this felt wrong somehow. She knew that it was her dread about dragging the rest of the group into her problems, but she couldn't seem to convince herself that it was alright no matter how hard she tried. H'aanit's words continued to ring in her mind in the silence. 

There was one thing that Primrose did know for sure though: this was a choice that was out of her choice. She had chosen her path the instant that she told them about the crows, and the others had decided on their own fates as well. That led them down the same path of destiny as her, and they were going to pursue it to the end out of loyalty toward a girl who was still afraid of saying that she loved anyone. Primrose had willingly detached herself from the tale that she was telling when she explained the men of the crow because she didn't think that she would be able to handle it if she allowed herself to recognize what she was talking about. Had everything always been so overwhelming? Why did it seem like nothing had gone right since Yusufa died? Had things slipped out of her control even before that and she was simply too numb to her own suffering to realize? 

Primrose's thoughts started to get to her sooner than she would have liked, and she found herself needing to excuse herself from the group's trip to the inn's lobby for breakfast before food could be served. She was planning on returning, bound to the words that H'aanit had spoken to her the night before, but she needed to clear her head as soon as possible, and the best way to do that was to take a deep breath of the cold air and hope that it could get rid of the rattling nerves at her core. It was a shallow bit of optimism, but what else did Primrose have in that moment? 

She leaned against the side of the inn once she was outside, her eyes shifting up to the skies overhead as she tried to clear her mind of everything that threatened to consume her. That was much easier said than done, but at least she was taking steps in the right direction. That had to count for something, right? 

"Primrose."

The dancer felt as if she was going to jump out of her skin at the sudden call of her name, and she glanced up before her eyes fell on the person who had just come out of the inn's doorway. It was none other than Therion, his head tucked low into the scarf that he was wearing. He was holding the fool's bangle on his wrist still to ensure that its jingling didn't alert Primrose to what was happening in his haphazard attempt to ambush her. Was that what he was even trying to do? Primrose couldn't tell, but she knew that her defenses had started to drop since this sudden internal conflict washed over her. 

"Is something the matter?" Primrose questioned as she addressed Therion carefully. She felt as if her voice was liable to start shaking any moment now if she wasn't cautious enough to keep herself under control, so she simply watched him carefully to make sure that she was able to remain focused. 

"There's something that you need to know about this place," Therion told her, taking a step closer to her. His boot crunched in the snow below, but he didn't seem to mind it in the slightest. 

Primrose watched him nervously as Therion came close enough to her that he would be able to whisper in her direction. Something about his sudden shift in demeanor was nerve-wracking, and Primrose didn't know how to handle it. She had known him to be detached and aloof up to that point, but this version of Therion was almost as anxious as she was. Therion hadn't spoken much the night before, and the more that Primrose thought back on it, the more convinced she was that he had been distracted throughout their conversation. It wasn't that he disproved of her methods when he was just as shady in terms of past and future actions; he was simply focused on something else, and it was enough to absorb all of his concern at the time. 

"Be careful while we're here. I think that this town is just like Sunshade; it just does a better job of hiding it," Therion explained quietly. 

That sent an immediate chill running up Primrose's spine, and her eyes went wide. The idea of Stillsnow having anything in common with Sunshade left her mind racing a million miles an hour, and her heart skipped a beat. "What do you mean?" she questioned, doing her best to push out thoughts of something darker than Therion was implying. 

This place is like Sunshade. I'm going to lose someone else here. The rest of the group is going to wind up dragged into my problems, and they'll pay for it with their lives if I'm not careful. This was a mistake. All of this was a mis--

"There are dancers here," Therion told her eventually, cutting to the heart of the matter without hesitation. "Something darker is happening in this town than most people are realizing, and I somehow get the feeling that if we continue down this path, we're going to wind up in trouble. Just... Be careful. Don't go anywhere alone if you can avoid it. I have a bad feeling about this place." Therion's gaze fell upon a small building squatted close to the ground in the distance, and he seemed to be glaring daggers at it. Somehow, that only made Primrose feel worse, and she hadn't even realized that was possible. 

Primrose nodded her understanding, seeing that this was Therion's way of showing that he cared. Had he not just warned her about something dark, ominous, and sinister, Primrose would have teased him playfully for this. Instead, she allowed Therion to lead her back into the inn as she did what she could to ignore the pounding of her heart in her chest, a sign that everything was somehow even worse than she had imagined. She didn't know if the suspicious aura of Stillsnow had anything to do with the man of the crow, but she was sure that her stomach was starting to churn at the mere thought, and that was enough to make her beyond nervous. 

Entering the inn once again made Primrose glance out over the other members of her party as she struggled to push down the thought of something going horribly wrong that ended with one of her companions buried beneath the snow the way that Yusufa was laid to rest under the sand so many lifetimes away. Why did it feel like Primrose lost everyone that she cared about? This was why she had been operating alone for so long, and the world had proven her point time and time again with its natural affinity for brutality. 

But she had already made her decision to trust the others with her story, and they were going to be following her no matter what. Primrose's promises that danger would follow her didn't deter them in the slightest. They had made their own decisions the same way that Primrose had, and she somehow doubted that they were going to be changing their minds. She could see it in the way that they all watched her with wary concern as she and Therion settled back down into their seats within the inn lobby. They were going to be there whether she wanted them to be or not, and she was simply going to have to see where this path took her.

If there was one thing Primrose knew for sure, it was that she wanted to get in and out of Stillsnow as soon as possible. She wanted to be able to leave this first step in her past so that she could lay all of this to rest. Stillsnow was a twisted place, and if she was a danger magnet, the least she could do was pull her friends out of the dark setting when the chance came up. 

She owed them, and herself, that much. 

Chapter Text

To say that the rest of the morning's meal did not go well felt like the understatement of the century. Primrose couldn't seem to force herself to eat anything no matter how important she knew that it was. She kept on thinking about what she was going to be doing later that day, plunging her dagger into the chest of one of her father's killers. She still kept expecting the other foot to drop with the rest of the group either leaving her or getting hurt. That seemed to be the typical pattern with her, didn't it? She was a magnet for all things rotten whether she wanted to admit it or not. 

And then there was Therion's damn warning. Primrose was glad that he had finally broken his vow of silence to speak up about something that wasn't a petty verbal stab at another member of the party, but that relief was dashed by everything that he had told her about in such a short time. Even just a few words could hold more power than anyone realized if they were used properly, and damn it, those were the last words that Primrose had been wanting to hear.

Primrose struggled to keep herself together as she thought about what was going to be happening next. Father crossed her mind on multiple occasions, simultaneously apologizing for mutilating the girl that had once been his daughter into something unrecognizable and detestable and praying for his forgiveness. Nothing seemed to make sense anymore. It hadn't truly come together since Yusufa was still alive, and if one wanted to get truly technical, such a statement could also be applied to Geoffrey Azelhart's death all that time ago when Primrose was just a child trembling in the shadows left behind by a trio of crows and their endless wingspan. 

Primrose was standing outside the inn when she pulled her dagger away from its sheath at her leg. She had been keeping it there for years up to that point, the blade the only reminder of her father that she had been able to keep in her iron grip when House Azelhart fell away and she ran from the wreckage. Not a day went by that she didn't have it at arm's reach, hiding under her skirt or out in the open. It was the only way for her to feel close to the man who she could no longer touch or see anywhere but her own dreams, and on a fateful day like this one, she needed that more than ever before. 

Primrose's slender features came into view along the dagger's edge, and she had to wonder if there was a timeline out there where her father would recognize the woman that she had become. Primrose had been forced to kick the child that she had once been to the curb, unable to care for the trembling and fearful young girl that she had been the night that her father was killed. She had a greater mission, and little girls didn't go out on revenge trips. 

Her reflection was difficult for even Primrose to decipher, like there were just a few weather-worn wrinkles in her skin too many for her to fully comprehend what it was that she was supposed to be feeling. This was going to be one of the biggest days of her damn life, and yet, she could barely manage to keep herself focused. All she could hope was that her father was still looking after her from beyond the grave. A selfish part of her wished that he didn't hate her the way that she had feared in the silence all these years. A deeper part even still wondered if this revenge mission was more for her sake than his, a dark whisper that seemed to want to pull her apart at the seams on the eve of her first true triumph. 

After all, Helgenish's death hadn't been a triumph. It had been a tragedy, and he had been a monster. His death was justice on behalf of someone who didn't deserve to die, and to Primrose, it was just another person soaked with blood in what she knew was going to be a long line left in her terrifying wake. 

Primrose put the dagger back in its sheath when she heard the other members of the group come out of the inn, ready for their adventures. Primrose wished that she could tell them where the hell they were going, but the truth was that she didn't even know that much herself. Helgenish had spoken of Stillsnow, but there was nothing else for her to go off in terms of information. She hadn't asked him for clues, unwilling to yield any tidbits as to her true mission to the man who had murdered her one and only friend in the dismal sands of Sunshade. In other words, her first order of operations was going to be to search the town for anything that could point her in the right direction. 

"What are we doing first?" Tressa questioned as she approached Primrose, now properly outfitted in clothing meant for the chilled climate of Stillsnow. She and Alfyn had apparently had a field day at the shop in town, Tressa bartering their way into some incredibly high-quality warm clothing meant for the bitter winds of the town. 

"We need to find information," Primrose replied simply, doing her best (and ultimately failing) to ignore the jab of guilt in the back of her mind that she was dragging someone so young into her own bloodied problems. She was going to get revenge on someone, going to kill a man, and Tressa had been able to do nothing but hug her and say that it was going to be alright. Primrose didn't understand many things, but she decided that she especially didn't understand how relaxed the merchant could be on the front of revenge. She remembered vaguely hearing about how Tressa had once sought justice for the sake of people who had been hurt by criminals too, but Primrose didn't allow herself to think of that any longer than she had to. After all, to compare herself to Tressa felt like an insult to the young merchant. 

"Then let's go," Tressa smiled up at her, every part of her expression so perfectly pure that it didn't even seem to be real. Primrose's mind offered her the image of her younger self dancing before her mirror in an attempt to become as rhythmic as possible before her next lesson with her father. Another part of her mind wondered where the hell everything had gone so wrong. 

"The tavern will be our best place to find new intel," Therion declared, his gaze locked squarely on Primrose, almost as if he was trying to say that he was going to be taking the group there one way or another regardless of if Primrose agreed or not. 

Luckily for him, she simply offered the thief a nod and began to walk in the direction of the tavern. She knew just how potent a mug of mead was when it came to loosening the lips of those who had a bit too much in terms of information on their hands. The tavern wasn't too far from the inn, and Primrose could tell even before she entered the building that it was a nice place to be. Everything about it was adorned in something splendid, whether it be some of the most ornate lanterns Primrose had ever seen or the stage at the rear of the building. In some ways, the tavern looked a lot like the one that Primrose had danced in so many times back in Sunshade. 

Therion's grim reminder rang in her ears once again, and Primrose bit down on her lip until she tasted copper to keep from being knocked over by a wave of her own nausea. 

There were as many people bustling around inside the tavern as Primrose would have expected, all of them bearing friendly expressions and the same warm clothing that was the norm in Stillsnow. There wasn't anything openly wrong the way that there was in Sunshade, and in some ways, that only made the feeling in the pit of Primrose's stomach that much worse. 

She eyed the stage on the far side of the tavern, a light frown on her face. Primrose knew how much making a good first impression could matter, especially when it came to the terms of gathering information. Dazzled eyes loosened lips, and that was what she valued most in that instant. Even so, she found herself hesitating for a long moment, her mind cast back to the last time that she had danced and what had happened later that night. It took a lengthy battle for her to convince herself that no one would mind if she rose to the occasion to show the occupants of the tavern just what she was capable of. 

The stage was the same as the one in Sunshade in quite a few ways, though it was a bit less extravagant. Primrose didn't mind, of course; it was serviceable enough for the ends that she needed to use it for. The rest of the group remained at the back of the tavern as Primrose made her way up the empty stairs to the stage itself. Once she was standing before the crowd, she earned the attention of many people in the tavern, and soon enough, everyone had fallen silent to turn in her direction with curiosity manifesting in their gazes. 

When Primrose prepared herself for the performance, she imagined the faces of her father and Yusufa. Both of them had loved watching her dance, albeit in their own unique ways. She made a silent vow that this was for them, whispering their names silently beneath her breath before closing her eyes and allowing the song in her heart to take claim of every part of her being. 

The dance passed in the blink of an eye, filled with so much emotion that it was almost enough to overwhelm Primrose completely. The dance had been in the honor of the people who she had lost, and yet, it still didn't seem like enough. Revenge was what mattered most in terms of avenging those who had fallen, and she was going to do what she could to carry out that goal. After all, why else would she be there in Stillsnow in the first place?

The crowd whistled and clapped in response to Primrose's final bow, and she smiled in the direction of her admirers with a grin that made it seem as if she hadn't stabbed herself in the chest with the power of her damn near debilitating empathy and newfound emotional fragility. "Bravo! Now that was a treat for the eyes!" one of the men in the crowd exclaimed, his eyes filled with much more genuine appreciation than anybody in Sunshade. It was strange, but Primrose wasn't objecting to it in the slightest. After all, this was a step above everything that she had seen in the past, and that was one thing she could take as a comfort even in dark times. 

"I've never seen such beauty! Where did she come from?" another man whispered to his companion after nudging the other person with his elbow. Primrose didn't hear a response though, too distracted by the overall buzz of the tavern around her. 

Her gaze fell upon the rest of her party at the back of the group, and they were all watching her with varying degrees of awe. Even Therion seemed to have been stunned into silence despite his normal snark, his eyes wide as he watched Primrose's every move. Ophilia was clapping politely with a beaming smile on her face as Tressa and Alfyn, ever the encouraging ones, offered the loudest cheers in the crowd. Standing there and staring at the pride in her friends' eyes was almost enough for Primrose to forget about all of her woes. 

Almost. 

A woman had entered the tavern while Primrose was dancing, her brown hair so dark that it edged on being black. It was tied back into curls that fell along her shoulders and upper back delicately. Her dress was red in color, hardly fitting for the weather but on her body regardless. "No... It couldn't possibly be..." the woman murmured under her breath. 

Primrose, however, was ignorant of her presence for a few precious moments longer. As soon as she stepped down from the stage, she was practically assaulted with questions from a few men who approached her with smiles on their faces. They had been sitting in the front row during her performance, watching every motion with rapt attention as if they were the ones who the dance was for (something that Primrose would be able to debunk in the blink of an eye). 

"I've never seen dancing like that around here!" one of the men exclaimed as he looked at Primrose from head to toe. His eyes were alight with something passionate, and Primrose remembered briefly the reason that she had originally come to dance in the first place. She had wanted to bring smiles to the faces of those around her with her father being among those in mind at the time. That had ultimately fallen apart while she was in Stillsnow, but she was starting to make progress in the right direction, subtle but still ultimately present. 

"It was like an angel had descended from the heavens..." another man mused with a smile of his own. 

Primrose simply offered them a smile and a small chuckle. "I thank you for your kind words, milords," she told them, bowing her head in their direction gently. They began to disperse from there, and Primrose's smile began to slip from her face. She had been searching for any signs of unfortunate traces within the crowd the way that Therion had implied earlier that morning, but she hadn't found anything that would be able to lead her to the man of the crow. 

It was easy enough for Primrose to deduce that the man of the crow was at least somewhat involved with the shady activities of Stillsnow. He had been speaking with Helgenish about being given a few women for some reason or another, and when that was combined with Therion's tension about the town, it was clear that there was only one conclusion to come to. Unfortunately though, it didn't seem as if anyone would be able to point her in the right direction. 

"Lady Primrose..."

That was when the woman in the red dress approached Primrose, her expression something heartfelt and somber, worn down by the sands of time but enduring nonetheless. She watched Primrose with eyes far wiser than her years, clearly yearning for something but unable to articulate her desires in full. The woman seemed to be in a state of disbelief, staring up at Primrose in shock as she waited for the dancer to return her gaze. 

That was enough for Primrose to startle out of her daze, and she glanced up to see the woman staring at her from a few feet away. Primrose staggered forward by a few steps, uncaring as to the confused glances that she was getting from the rest of her party members from where they stood at the back wall of the tavern. Instead, she simply focused on the words that the woman was speaking around the tears that were struggling to not fall from her eyes. "It is you... Isn't it, Lady Primrose?" the woman questioned softly. 

"Can it truly be... Arianna?!" Primrose asked, her voice breathless in a halfway-formed gasp. 

The woman, Arianna, returned her inquiry with a small nod. "Yes... I'm honored that you remember me," she confessed as Primrose wondered how she could have possibly forgotten about Arianna. The woman had once been a servant working under the jurisdiction of House Azelhart within Noblecourt. She and Primrose had gotten along well when the two were still in the bounds of the Flatlands town, but that had all been shattered when the murder of Primrose's father sent fractures out through the city like a hammer slamming into glass. 

"It is the guiding light of the Sacred Flame that led us to each other on this day!" Arianna cried out with another tearful, choked sob. Her arms were spread down by her side, and Primrose couldn't help but take that as an invitation for an embrace, closing the distance between herself and Arianna to wrap her arms around the other woman's torso. She was met with a similar gesture in response, and Primrose could have sworn that she felt small droplets of water--tears--make their way into her hair from Arianna's eyes. 

"It is hard to believe that ten years have passed since those dark times..." Primrose murmured to Arianna, unsure as to if she was talking about the fact that it felt like a lifetime away because of all that she had seen over the course of the last decade or because of the endless activity that had lined her life from Sunshade to Stillsnow. She ultimately decided that the answer was unimportant as she shifted her focus back to Arianna. 

"I feared that we had lost you as well, my lady. But here you are, alive and more beautiful than ever," Arianna smiled gently, though it was clear that she was still stiff and anxious about the exchange to some degree. 

"What of you, Arianna? How did you come to live in this distant land?" Primrose questioned of the woman as the two pulled away from their embrace at long last. 

Arianna's shoulders immediately grew tense. "After that terrible incident, I... I was relieved of my duties," she began to explain. "I wandered from city to city, living on the streets and performing menial tasks to keep myself fed... I came here to Stillsnow some time ago. Here, I make a modest living as a..." Her voice trailed off, and she ultimately stopped herself from continuing with a subtle yet still notable shake of her head. 

Primrose allowed silence to fall between them for a few seconds before she forced herself to speak up to fill the quiet. "As a what?" she questioned, Therion's warning from that morning ringing in her ears once again. The general cacophony of the tavern had disappeared in the favor of the piercing noise in the back of Primrose's mind, and she immediately willed it to come to a halt as soon as possible out of something akin to silent desperation. 

Arianna simply shook her head to dismiss the subject before it could be pursued once again. "But, Lady Primrose, what brings you on a journey so far from home?" she questioned carefully, deflecting so clearly that she might as well have been a mirror. 

Primrose's eyes fell to the velvet rug lining the center of the tavern's floor. "I am searching for a man," she replied honestly despite the way that copper seemed to shoot up the roof of her mouth with the words. "I have reason to believe that he is here. I followed directions here to Stillsnow after departing Sunshade to see where I can find the man that I have been searching for. 

Arianna staggered backwards, her eyes wide as could be and a gasp on her lips. Primrose's gaze shifted up to her old companion, hardening slightly at the idea of a lead. This was what she had been searching for since her performance, and she fully intended to take advantage of it. "Arianna? Do you know where I can find the person that I'm searching for?" she questioned, knowing that she was already confident of the answer. 

Despite how clear it was that she was lying, Arianna's body clammed up as she looked down to the ground, her eyes filled with a newfound lack of comfort. "I... I do not. I fear I cannot help you, my lady," she said carefully, choosing out every word as if she was afraid that it had the full possibility to cast her down to hell if she misspoke. 

"Please do not hold back, Arianna. You must tell me what you know," Primrose insisted, her voice starting to edge on something desperate and pleading. "I beg of you."

Arianna offered Primrose a careful examination before she allowed her eyes to fall shut, seemingly having changed her mind for the better. "We should not speak of this here. Come with me," she instructed tensely. 

"Of course, Arianna. Anywhere you like," Primrose assured the woman without a beat of hesitation. 

When Arianna nodded and pivoted on her heel, Primrose was all too happy to trail in her footsteps. She glanced over to where the rest of her companions were watching her reunion with Arianna with confusion in their gazes, gesturing for them to follow her with a subtle hand at her side. They followed suit, careful not to get too close and accidentally startle Arianna in the process. 

Arianna stopped just in front of the tavern's door, her hand gracing the handle gently before retreating. "Our dormitory is not far from here," she explained to Primrose carefully, once again taking everything with such caution that it felt as if she was walking on a tightrope rather than simply navigating a conversation with an old friend. "We will be able to talk freely there."

From there, Arianna pushed the door open and walked out into the bitter Stillsnow cold once again. The breeze hit Primrose with unexpected force, knocking what little air remained in her lungs straight out of her body. It wasn't particularly surprising to her that she was reacting with such surprise given the events that had just transpired, but she still felt breathless and odd, almost as if she was walking on a cloud that had the full possibility of giving way beneath her feet at a moment's notice if she misstepped somehow. 

The walk to the dormitory was a careful one, and while the building wasn't far from the tavern, it was still a decent enough distance that it gave Primrose the chance to be approached by one of her other traveling companions. Ophilia spoke quietly when she came up beside the dancer, doing what she could to not accidentally frighten the already skittish and anxious Arianna. "So you know this woman?" Ophilia questioned. 

Primrose responded with a nod. "Yes, from when I was still living a noble's life. It's been ten years since we last saw each other," she explained simply. There would be time for details later if Ophilia was taken by the whims of curiosity to ask her for further inquiries. 

Ophilia simply nodded along, her expression thoughtful. "That's quite a long time..."

"I am glad to see her safe. I tried to find out where she had gone but to no avail," Primrose replied. 

"I am so sorry about what happened... To you both," Ophilia murmured, her eyes falling down to the sand below. Arianna's shoes were lining a path in the snow ahead of the pair. 

Primrose struggled to not squirm under Ophilia's dutiful sympathy. "You needn't be. After all, I'm sure you've had more than your fair share of hardships too." Ophilia didn't respond, and Primrose offered her a small smile that she prayed came off more optimistic and hopeful than she felt in that moment. "Yet here we are, traveling together and putting the past behind us." Ironic how she said this as she was off to avenge her father's murder by killing three other men, wasn't it? "We should be rejoicing, not feeling sorry for each other."

Ophilia started to offer her the barest traces of a smile at those words. "I'm glad I can make this journey with you. I feel all the braver for knowing you," she confessed softly. 

"Good to hear!" Primrose smiled in return, and for the first time, she actually seemed to mean it. She wasn't sure of what the change was, but perhaps her attempts to make Ophilia feel better had done her some good as well. 

The conversation had just drawn to a close when Arianna stopped in front of a large building huddled close to the snow, almost as if it was hoping that the ground would absorb it entirely. She opened the door carefully and allowed everyone to follow in after her. Primrose and Ophilia naturally fell away from one another, and the hole in the pit of Primrose's stomach only grew larger, her moment of temporary joy stolen in the blink of an eye. This building reminded her an awful lot of the dancers' dormitory in Sunshade, and all too quickly, she was reminded of Therion's grim warning all over again, shattering any sense of joy that she might have momentarily enjoyed. 

The inside of the building was simple, a single fireplace being the only notable feature to line the walls. There were beds pushed onto one side of the building, all clustered close together with what appeared to be the hardest mattresses that Primrose had ever seen. There were a few other women in the building, all of them keeping their heads down as they went about their business, refusing to acknowledge their guests out of something that Primrose immediately knew to be fear. "What is this place...?" was all Primrose could bring herself to murmur under her breath. 

"This serene little town has a dark, dirty secret," Arianna replied, her voice laced with bitterness and regret of a breed that Primrose understood all too well. "A brothel, frequented by patrons the realm over."

"What...?" Primrose whispered, her eyes going wide. Therion had been right. This place was just like Sunshade, and if that was the case, it could only mean--

"That is where I make my living. That is right, Primrose... I am a whore," Arianna told the dancer, turning to face her with such conflicted and tempestuous eyes it seemed as if she was on the verge of tearing herself apart in the silence. Primrose looked down to the floor below at those words, trying her best to push back images of Sunshade. Helgenish's hands on her body, Yusufa's blood spilling onto the sand, and the sickening faces of all the men who frequented the town flashed in her mind, and it was all that Primrose could do to keep her hands from shaking openly. 

"This town is not far from Flamesgrace, you see. It's a convenient enough place for customers to visit," Arianna explained as she took a few steps away from Primrose. "Some of our best customers would be troubled if their patronage came to light. So the brothel's existence--our existence--is kept a secret. The poorest-kept secret in the Frostlands, mayhap. But the public turns a blind eye."

Primrose's mind flashed with images of Helgenish and the way that he had spoken to the man of the crow. They had been searching for the basis of an exchange, to send off some of Helgenish's dancers to become the prostitutes of the crow. Anger rose up in her chest anew, but she fought it off to the best of her ability. "And the man that I've been searching for..."

Arianna nodded. "I believe that I know who you're referring to... The owner of the brothel," she replied somberly. "He lives in the mansion of the ring not far from here. Of course, you can only get there through a meeting place."

"A meeting place?" Primrose echoed in confusion. 

"The location of the brothel is never shared openly. In order to get there, one must ride in a carriage that takes patrons exclusively to the mansion in question," Arianna explained. 

Primrose looked down at the ground, only just then noticing the way that the other members of the group were choosing to not pay attention to the current conversation between Primrose and Arianna. They seemed to have recognized that it was something private, but she could tell by the troubled looks in some of their eyes that they recognized what this place was. Even so, she did her best to stay focused on the discussion at hand. "Arianna... Might I ask you one favor?"

Arianna simply nodded. "Anything, my lady."

"Let us board that carriage tonight," Primrose replied, gesturing to the rest of the party with one hand. They would never let her go alone, so she would simply have to bring them along. It was the only option whether Primrose liked it or not. Arianna's eyes went wide in response, prompting the dancer to continue. "I'm searching for a man with the mark of the crow tattooed upon his left arm, and if what you say is true, he must be at that mansion."

Arianna paused, contemplative, before she stepped towards Primrose. "It is true that the owner of the brothel has such a mark... But, Lady Primrose... What do you intend to do when you find him?"

Primrose was silent for a long moment. "Only what I must do."

Arianna eventually nodded. "I understand. Then ready what you need and return to this place. The carriage will be waiting." 

Primrose smiled gently but sadly in Arianna's direction. "Thank you, Arianna," she whispered before turning toward the door. The rest of the group watched her silently, finally coming out of their quiet circles of paranoia to address the subject at hand openly. 

Arianna remained where she was, only letting out a small sigh as the door was opened and cold air rushed into the building. "I trust you, Lady Primrose," she began. "Please... Be careful." Her eyes were locked solely on the ground below, and she refused to shift her attention up, too weighed down by the countless tragedies that plagued her mind at present.

Primrose's smile remained just as somber and tragic as before. "I wouldn't dream of anything else," was all she said before she walked out of the dormitory and into the bitter wind once again. 

Chapter Text

Primrose didn't know exactly what it was that she was going to do to prepare for their journey to the brothel. However, she could say one thing certainly: this was going to be the biggest fight of her life up to that point. After clawing and scraping her way through existence for the past ten years, she was finally going to be able to reach the apex of everything that she had been working toward. She wondered if she was ready for this. Part of her was while the other half denied such a statement firmly. That did a fine enough job of summing up her thought process, at the very least.

The group was starting to walk back to the rest of town--no doubt off to buy a few extra healing items for the sake of the battle at hand--when Primrose noticed that Alfyn was unable to stop fidgeting on the spot. He was relentlessly pulling at the sleeve of his jacket, his gaze cast down to the snow below. Primrose frowned as she slipped back into pace with him, examining everything about him carefully. "Alfyn, what's the matter? You can't seem to stand still," she commented carefully.

Alfyn perked up suddenly, only seeming to come to his senses when he realized that Primrose was next to him. "Huh?" He looked at Primrose for a moment, bringing his eyes into focus at long last. "Oh, shucks, sorry. It's just so cold up here... I was born in the south, and me and the cold, we don't get along too well."

Primrose frowned at him. He wasn't shivering in the slightest, and his warmer clothing was already doing a fine job of ensuring that he wasn't too chilled in the bitter wintry air. He was lying through his teeth, and he wasn't doing a particularly good job of it. Primrose was good at knowing when others were putting on a show being a performer herself, and she could see the way that his smile was lopsided and half-hearted. She still didn't know what it was that was going on to fuel this strange complex of Alfyn's to begin with, but she could say for sure that there was a crack in his facade that was starting to leak anxiety all over the snowy ground below.

It didn't take that long for Primrose to come to a conclusion though. "You're thinking about the brothel, aren't you?" she questioned. Alfyn started as soon as the words came out of her mouth, and Primrose simply pressed her lips together. "Thought so."

"Sorry," Alfyn apologized with a nervous smile. "It's just... I've been thinkin' about all those poor girls... They deserve better than to have to be forced into something like this, you know?"

Primrose looked down at the snow. "Yeah... I guess so," she murmured. She didn't know what she was expecting Alfyn to say in response, but it made sense. The longer that she thought about it, the more convinced she was that the look that had appeared in his eyes when the subject came up was sadness. He felt awful on the behalf of those who had been dragged into this with no choice, and he couldn't seem to silence his anguish on the matter regardless of how hard he tried.

"B-But we've gotta stay focused. The crow isn't going to be defeated on his own, you know?" Alfyn asked even though it was clear as could be that Primrose already knew the answer to be negatory. Still, he looked at the path ahead. "We're gonna be fine. We'll be out of here in no time. I'm sure of it."

Primrose offered him a small smile, pretending that it was much more genuine than it actually was. "Yeah... You're right," she whispered. She watched Alfyn for another long moment before he started to walk a bit faster, no doubt anxious to get this over with sooner rather than later. After all, the sooner that they defeated the man of the crow, the sooner that they would be able to free the women who had been taken into the brothel. They had a clear path ahead of them, and Alfyn was more desperate than ever to follow it to the end.

It was only after Alfyn had already gone off to focus on buying their next batch of supplies that Tressa came sliding up into Primrose's peripheral vision. The dancer looked down at the young merchant at her side with a light frown. There was clearly something on her mind, but unlike Alfyn, Tressa didn't allow herself to succumb to her nerves, instead asserting her inquiry loud and clear. "Primrose, what's a brothel?"

Primrose was glad that she wasn't drinking anything in that moment, because if she had been, her drink would have wound up spilled all over the snow in front of her. Tressa didn't seem to notice her reaction though, instead simply continuing to prattle on. "I was going to ask Arianna, but I don't think that she really wants to talk to any of us right now. She seems nervous about all of this," Tressa continued to explain.

Primrose looked at the merchant beside her, and a small voice in the back of her mind reminded her that Tressa was only eighteen. Legally, she was an adult, but to Primrose, she was still young enough to be considered a child. She was small and sweet, unaware of the full brutality of the world and not forced to face it even in when confronted with hardship. The last thing that Primrose wanted to do was be the one to shatter through this outward wall of innocence with something that could have destroyed Tressa's thought process and focus for the rest of the mission.

Instead of explaining, Primrose simply swallowed dryly. "Tressa, there are just some things that children shouldn't know..." she said carefully, knowing that Tressa probably wouldn't take it well but still unable to force herself to offer a true answer to Tressa's question.

"Oh, come on!" Tressa exclaimed. "Nobody else seems to want to answer the question either! Someone just tell me!" She threw up her arms dramatically for emphasis before crossing them over her chest, offering her a bit of extra warmth as well as fulfilling the image in Primrose's mind: that of a young child venturing out into the world for the first time. Almost as if Tressa had been able to read Primrose's thoughts, she offered her next statement with a punch of agitation. "And I'm not a child, by the way."

Primrose let out a sigh. If Tressa wasn't going to stop until she got her answer, the least that Primrose could do for her was be the one to explain it in a somewhat delicate way. "If you insist... Lean in closer and I'll whisper it."

Primrose wasn't even entirely sure what it was that she told to Tressa during the seconds that followed, seemingly removing herself from her own body just so that she didn't have to focus on what she had to say. She did notice the way that Tressa's jaw dropped a moment later though, and that prompted Primrose to move on. "Do you get it now?" Even as Primrose spoke these five words, Tressa remained slack-jawed. "Tressa? Your mouth is hanging agape."

Tressa immediately clamped her mouth shut. "Oh, er, sorry! I forgot it was still open..." she confessed sheepishly. "Thank you for telling me, Primrose."

The dancer simply offered her a kind nod, placing one hand on Tressa's shoulder. She wasn't sure if the gesture was more for the sake of the merchant's comfort or her own, but either way, Primrose found that she rather enjoyed it. She was silently selfishly glad that she had decided to stay with the rest of the group even in the face of her doubts. 

Shopping for supplies for the upcoming battle was surprisingly easy, Primrose had to admit. All it took was a few healing items for the group's supplies to be rounded off. Tressa wound up snagging them a bargain when it came to inspiriting plums, and she was able to negotiate a few pomegranates into her hands as well, grinning wildly as she put them away in her bag. The rest of the group could simply watch on, and Primrose smiled to herself. Tressa, even in a time of disoriented shock, did a great job of cheering her up when she was at her lowest. 

From there, the group returned to the brothel's dormitories to wait for the carriage that would bring them to their next location. To Primrose, the period of waiting that followed was both mercifully short and all too long, leaving her lost in her own thoughts for not long but most certainly long enough. She was almost dazed to the point of falling over when she was tapped on the shoulder by Olberic. He was pointing straight ahead, and when Primrose followed the place where his finger was indicating, her stomach started to do flips. 

It was a simple carriage, all things considered, but its regality was still found in the smaller factors. For what appeared to be something perfectly normal, it was incredibly expensive and exquisite as far as Primrose could tell, and she could only imagine that the inside was as comfortable as it got in terms of carriage rides. The car in question was on the larger side as well, and Primrose swallowed dryly. They were all going to be able to head to their destination at once in the carriage, and from there, the gears of fate would begin to turn for better or worse. 

Arianna came out of the brothel's dormitory building as soon as she heard the carriage coming, and she came to a stop beside Primrose as they watched the carriage come to a stop in the snowy space between the tavern and the dormitories. She pointed to the man that stepped down from the front of the carriage, and Primrose immediately noticed the tension in his posture as well as the frown on his face. "That man there is Oren. He drives the carriage," Arianna whispered, and it was easy enough for Primrose to assume that Arianna had more than her fair share of experience with the man in question. "He has a sharp eye and a suspicious nature. That's why he was hired."

Primrose could see as much the longer that she stared at him, and she found herself frowning. "That is... Unfortunate," she muttered under her breath. She had been hoping to deal with a mark that was a bit easier to manipulate, but it seemed that the universe was not intent on offering her a break. Then again, it never had been before, so why would it break the streak of more than a decade then? 

Still, Primrose didn't allow Arianna's warning to stop her from walking over to the man in front of the carriage. He watched her critically with a gaze that seemed to be on the verge of a glare, only barely managing to straddle the line between unfriendly and downright distasteful. Primrose bowed to him, finding that her wintry attire was both simultaneously more and less liberating in terms of movement when compared to the flowing skirt and cropped shirt of Sunshade. "I wish you a pleasant evening, sir," Primrose said grandly. 

Oren simply looked her up and down, his dark hair starting to peer out from the fur cap sitting atop his head. He was more than dressed for the weather, and his eyes sharpened into a glare made of daggers as sharp as the one that Primrose had used to murder Helgenish a lifetime (or perhaps only a few days) ago. "Haven't seen you around here before. You a new girl?" he questioned. 

Primrose nodded. Behind her, Arianna gave the other members of the party a look that told them to stay quiet regardless of what they heard Primrose say next. "I am. This will be my first night in the master's service," Primrose told Oren, the words falling so easily from her lips that they tasted like poison and betrayal in the form of honeyed beauty. Once again, flashes of Sunshade filled her mind, and it took every ounce of restraint for Primrose to remind herself that the dunes here were made of snow rather than sand. Luckily, the performance did not slip even in the face of her momentary internal uncertainty, and Primrose was glad for all the practice that she had engaged in previously to refine her skills. 

Unfortunately, this was not enough to deceive Oren. "Well, no one's told me about it, so you ain't gettin' in my carriage," he told Primrose gruffly. He was on the verge of telling her to scram as far as Primrose could tell, and she frowned to herself. He most certainly was cautious just the same way that Arianna had said. She sent a fleeting glance in the direction of her companions before she took a step closer to Oren, ready to initiate her backup plan in the face of this opposition. 

"You know, before I came here, I was a dancer," Primrose told Oren, allowing her hips and shoulders to sway in the same fashion that she had each night that she had to earn her keep in Sunshade. "Men said that once they'd seen me on the stage, nothing could ever satisfy them again." She allowed one of her hips to shift forward ever so slightly, and Primrose reminded herself for the thousandth time that this was all for the sake of avenging her father. No humiliation was too large when it came to bringing down justice and vengeance against those who had ruined everything. That was how she was able to get through her next set of words without feeling sick to the taste of sand and blood. "Would you like a little show?" Oren didn't respond for a long moment, and Primrose simple smirked seductively in his direction. "I think you'll find it most... Stimulating."

Primrose offered him a brief twirl and serene smile. She was only met with silence, prompting her to stand there and watch him with all the kindness that she could manage in the heat of the moment. It was only after she had carefully returned to her default posture that Oren spoke, crossing his arms along the way. "You done with your little show?" he asked, voice edging on irritation. 

That caught Primrose by surprise, and she stumbled back a step or two. "I... Am. Did you not enjoy it?" she questioned, doing her best to keep her voice under control. It was trying so hard to shake under her shock of Oren not falling for her charms. Those same actions had done so much for her in Sunshade, appealing to the lowest common denominator that men in the town had seemed to possess, but it was doing little to aid her cause here. She truly was far from Sunshade for better or worse. 

Oren shrugged. "Seen better, seen worse, I reckon."

Primrose's gaze fell on the snow below. "I see... Then do not allow me to trouble you further..." she murmured, embarrassed at the fact that her attempts had fallen so tragically short. She needed to be able to succeed more than ever given the circumstances, but she hadn't come anywhere close. Perhaps this recent overcast demeanor of hers was impacting more than she was originally willing to admit. 

Primrose retreated from Oren a moment later, and Arianna took a step away from the rest of the traveling group as she leaned in to whisper into Primrose's ear. "It was a most beautiful dance, my lady..." she whispered softly but full of heart. 

"Thank you, Arianna. But your praise is not the prize I sought..." Primrose offered a glance back in Oren's direction, seeing immediately that the man had not changed his stance in the slightest. He looked just the same as he had previously, not at all bothered by what had happened but not showing any signs of changing his behavior in the face of Primrose's actions either. 

Arianna simply shook her head with a sad smile. "I did try to warn you, my lady. The man is no fool."

Primrose nodded as she glanced back to Oren. "Indeed... I must find another way..." she murmured, though truth be told, she didn't even know where to start in terms of finding another method of getting into the brothel's main building. Braving the snow was hardly the best idea given that she didn't know how far away it was, so walking was out of the question. That carriage was the only way for anyone to reach the building that she was seeking, and yet, there was a roadblock approximately the size and shape of Oren to prevent her from reaching her destination. 

Primrose ultimately shook her head and began trying to think of a plan as she stepped away from Oren once again, a hand clasped at her chin as she desperately attempted to solve this impossible puzzle. She had only managed to get a few steps into finding a way out of this when she felt the presence of someone beside her. When she turned, she was met with none other than Cyrus. 

"You dance beautifully," Cyrus smiled to her gently. There was something so overwhelmingly genuine about him that was almost painful to look at, and Primrose was left to wonder if he understood the nature of her past work. Surely he was aware of it, though Primrose doubted that he had any interest in such desires. 

"Thank you," Primrose told him with a small nod, glad to have the compliment but still somewhat bitter over the fact that she hadn't been able to satisfy her target of the night in such a way. 

"You were positively inspiring. I wish I could dance like that, but alas..." Cyrus began, his voice trailing off as he looked down at the snow in muted shame. 

Primrose simply let out a chuckle. "Two left feet, right?" she questioned. That much had become apparent to Primrose during their previous encounters of combat; Cyrus was hardly the best when it came to evasion, and that was all that Primrose needed to know in order to fill in the gaps for herself. 

Cyrus nodded. "I'm afraid so. I dared not to go to the faculty balls for fear that I'd trip over some poor girl and make a fool of us both," he confessed with a light chuckle and a shake of his head. There was something almost sad in his eyes, and Primrose wondered if perhaps he missed Atlasdam. In that respect, they certainly had something in common, missing a town in the Flatlands that they could no longer easily visit. Still, he didn't let that stop him as he continued. "I wonder if lessons would help? Or should I simply accept who I am and stick to my tomes?"

If there was one thing that Primrose was good at, it was not giving up in the face of opposition. It was how she had managed to stay strong in the face of everything that she had been through over the years. She was going to pass on her wisdom one way or another, and so, she offered him a gentle smile. "Well, you're probably a quick learner. And even the clumsiest people can manage the basic steps... The most important thing is to enjoy the dance and let yourself go."

Cyrus simply nodded slowly, trying to understand the words in full despite the gaps in his experiences when compared to the dancer before him. "Right, right. Don't be self-conscious. Of course that makes sense," he said, though he was murmuring more to himself rather than addressing Primrose, though she supposed that this was a habit of his given his past behavior. "It would be rather wonderful to do all those complicated steps and not think about it... As much as I love scholarship, I love dancing too."

Primrose gave him a gentle smile. "Well, if you're that eager, I could give you some pointers," she offered. "After we complete our current mission, that is." She held back a comment about how it would hardly benefit either one of them to be distracted in their upcoming goal by the ideas of performance. 

Cyrus' face lit up almost immediately. "You'd do that? Why, I'd be most grateful if you could!" 

"Of course," Primrose assured her, and the warm sensation of belonging rose in her chest before she could stop it. In moments like these, she wasn't able to stop herself from thinking that she had made the right choice to stay and spend time with the other travelers. Regardless of what came next, she was sure that the rest of the group around her was something worth protecting, and she already felt as if she would go to the ends of the world for them. 

Perhaps she could have felt that way about Yusufa in another life. 

Instead, Primrose found herself turning in the direction of Arianna. Olberic was standing beside her, so imposing that he seemed more like a statue than a man for a few brief moments. "Do you know what we should do now?" he questioned carefully. 

Arianna nodded, though it was clear that the action was uncertain and lacking in energy. "Rumor has it that Oren owes the tavern keeper a debt. What sort of debt, I couldn't say... But it might be worth looking into," she replied. 

"In that case, we have our next destination," Primrose declared, pulling herself away from her conversation with Cyrus to look at the tavern that was resting nearby. Snowflakes fell upon her hair gently, and she released a small sigh before starting to walk in the direction of the building. The other members of her traveling party trailed after her, though Arianna elected to stay behind. Primrose assumed that she was going to ensure that Oren didn't leave before they could accomplish their goal, and she made a mental note to thank Arianna for her help once this had been taken care of. 

The inside of the tavern was much the same as it had been before, and Primrose had to admit that the warm interior of the building was both welcoming in its coziness and terrifying in its familiarity. She did her best to shake off memories of sandy dunes as she made her way over to the bar where the tavern keeper was working. He was drying out a glass when he noticed that Primrose was standing in front of him, and he glanced up at her with curiosity manifesting in his gaze slowly but surely. 

Primrose offered him a wink that she prayed came off as a better performance than what she had given to Oren just a short while beforehand. "Could I ask you for a favor, my good sir?" she questioned. 

The man simply stared at her for a long while, and something in the back of Primrose's mind told her that he had much more in common with Cyrus than any of her previous targets. Damn it. That could be a very good thing or a very bad thing depending on how this next part went. "Do you need something?" he asked, setting down the glass once he was finished wiping it out. 

Primrose nodded. "There's a man outside who I believe you need to speak to... I would like you to have a brief conversation with Oren," she explained. The barkeeper continued to stare at her quizzically, so she continued. "I'm in need of his services, you see, and I believe that you're the only one who will be able to help me."

The tavern keeper stared at her for another long moment. "You want me to have a word with Oren?" he questioned. Primrose nodded once again. "Uh, yes, I'll think about it."

He wasn't thinking for all that long though, as a moment later, he came out from behind the bar, putting the glass in its regular position before dropping the towel onto the countertop. He followed Primrose and the rest of the group out of the building, and she smiled to herself. Her plan was certainly going to plan, and she was glad to be given the chance to finally board that damn carriage. Of course, she wasn't out of the woods quite yet since the barkeeper still had to find a way to convince Oren to let her ride on the carriage, but it was a step in the right direction, and she was willing to accept it for the time being. 

Out in the snow beyond the tavern's walls, Oren was tending to the horses at the front of the carriage. It wasn't until after he heard footsteps drawing near that he perked up, and his eyes went wide as soon as he noticed who had accompanied Primrose back to the area. "M-Master barkeep..." he murmured. Silently, Primrose thanked Arianna for giving her the lead that she needed to get this issue out of the picture.  "Always a pleasure to see my kind benefactor. What brings you here?"

The barkeep didn't say anything as he took a step forward, gesturing to Primrose a moment later. Primrose followed him closer to Oren, offering the man a small smile of her own. The barkeep remained silent, and Primrose realized that he and Oren knew each other well enough for words to be redundant when it came to matters of their communication. Oren's reaction made this all too clear with the way that he stumbled back by a step or two in his moment of shock. "You want me to give the new girl a ride?" Oren questioned, already knowing the answer but inquiring on the matter regardless. 

The barkeep simply nodded, and Oren fell silent for a long moment as he looked back to his carriage. There was something in his eyes that told Primrose that perhaps it wasn't going to be as easy as she thought, but when Oren shifted his attention back to the barkeep, all the pieces seemed to come into place in the blink of an eye. Oren, unable to resist the request that had been given to him, let out a small sigh of something that sounded like resignation. "I mean, of course, sir. As you wish. Least I can do to repay your kindness," he said, the words coming out much more genuine than anything else that he had said up to this point. He gestured to the carriage a moment later. "Hop in, woman. We don't have all night."

Primrose offered a glance over her shoulder to Arianna, and she was met with a small yet sad smile and a nod. She shifted her focus next to the other members of the group that she had come to travel with, and once again, that sense of belonging that was both immensely foreign and all too familiar rose in her chest. Primrose nodded to Oren, and the man opened the door to the carriage to offer her the chance to climb inside. 

The process of settling into the carriage was all too simple, almost feeling too easy to Primrose given what she was setting out to do. Her throat was dry as she slid into the far end of the carriage's right seat, the rest of the group trailing in after her. H'aanit sat just beside her with Cyrus on her other side and Alfyn closing out the people on their side of the carriage's interior. On the opposite seat, Arianna sat opposite Primrose with Ophilia beside her. After the cleric, the order went from Tressa to Olberic to Therion. It was a tight squeeze even though the carriage was much larger on the inside than its exterior might have led one to believe, but Primrose ultimately found that she didn't mind. The barkeep had given them the chance to sneak in as a group thanks to the debt that Oren owed him, and they had to take advantage of it before the man who operated the carriage changed his mind. 

The carriage was filled with something warm, and Primrose assumed that it was a direct consequence of the fact that there were so many people gathered in such a small area. In a way, this carriage was all that she had. Her past had been forcefully ripped away from her when her father was murdered, and she had to make her own place in the world in the aftermath of all that had taken place. In the end, this path led her to Stillsnow alongside a merry group of haphazard travelers trying their best to push through and find their places in the world. Someone from her past had managed to return to her despite the initial barrier in place as well, and Primrose recognized the warm and foreign yet familiar sensation of love fill her chest, and she felt like it had the chance to consume her. 

But there was a shadow that not even love would be able to defeat, and that came in the form of her impending mission. She had to carry out this upcoming job. The man of the crow was waiting for her, and she was going to be fighting against him alongside a handful of people who would do anything for her. Primrose had always told herself that she was going to be facing this final battle on her own, and yet, there she was, surrounded by all the people that she could have asked for. 

She knew that Yusufa's spirit was watching over her somehow, and the handkerchief hiding in her thick clothing made it clear that she would never be alone again. 

"Here we go," Oren declared. And with that, the carriage began to move, off in the direction of the first of the three foul scavengers. 

Chapter Text

The scene was a familiar one, a fragmented figure of a distant memory. The gardens of the Azelhart mansion in Noblecourt had been the backdrop of Primrose's childhood, the place where she met the first person she would ever claim to be her love, though those fragile words had long since crumbled away like ash on the sky. She fell to the ground with her hair blowing in the wind. Ten years later, she would take the breeze as a sign of a challenge from the gods themselves. As a child, she thought of it as a kiss to soothe her woes as emotions attempted to overtake her. 

"Primrose..."

The shadow of her father stood nearby, his face laced with kindness and paternal care in a way that felt magical to the only girl who got the chance to see him this way. He was worried as he watched her, concern unable to escape his gaze. Primrose was pushing herself too far, and as her father, he was the only one with the power to potentially talk her down from her own self-destruction. 

"Father, please... Let me try just once more!" Primrose cried out. She pushed herself to her feet, ignoring the way that her body attempted to tremble. She had been trying to perform this specific move for her father for what felt like an eternity, but she always just barely seemed to come up short, and her feet were starting to burn with past failures. 

Her father could see the way that her body was beginning to turn against her, and he shook his head. "You have tried enough. Now, you must be still and reflect upon why you continue to fail," Geoffrey instructed of her carefully. This was the closest he could get to forcing her to rest before she inevitably went for another round of rehearsals, and it was the best that he could do in terms of helping her to recuperate from the injuries that were simply waiting to happen. "You are my daughter--the lone daughter of House Azelhart. You must be strong. Stronger than you are now."

Primrose nodded as she looked down to the ground. "Yes, Father," she said softly, embarrassed at her continued failed attempts to perform the steps. Geoffrey had been teaching her to dance for as long as she could remember, an art that he first learned from Primrose's mother before she became an angel buried beneath the grasses of Noblecourt. He had decided to pass such skills on when Primrose requested such of him, but her young body was still clumsy and developing, not yet what it was bound to become. She had tripped over herself more times than either one of them had bothered to count, and deliberate care was necessary to ensure she didn't fall victim to any unnecessary injuries. 

Geoffrey took a few steps away from his daughter, and Primrose's eyes followed his ever movement. "Answer me this, Primrose--what is required of the head of a great house? The lady of House Azelhart..."

"The lady of House Azelhart..." Primrose echoed before she swallowed back her fears and stepped closer to her father. "...Must safeguard her family's success and glory. She must be strong enough that no other house overshadow our own."

Geoffrey stopped to think for a moment. "A fair answer. But hear me well, Primrose... Worth is not found in the eyes of others. That which truly matters most lies within. What the head of our house must value above all... Is faith."

"Faith..." Primrose repeated under her breath, turning the word over in her head silently. 

Geoffrey nodded. "'Faith shall be your shield.' These are our house words. And what they mean... Is that you cannot waver until you have done what you know in your heart of hearts must be done. It is the determination to keep your eyes fixed on the path before you, though a thousand indignities may seek to trip you up along the way. You must find that faith in yourself."

"Yes, Father," Primrose said softly, though if she was being honest, she didn't know what she was meant to have faith in. She was still so young, not even yet a teenager, and yet, the weight of the world had already been placed on her shoulders. Her family's legacy meant everything to her, but what was someone so young to do in the face of so much? The universe was relying on her to carry out her duty, and so were many others along the way. Primrose didn't know what she was meant to have faith in, because as it stood, she didn't think that she would be able to have faith in herself. Someone so small could hardly find the power to stand on her own two feet, much less do something meaningful with her life. And yet, her father told her the house words once more all the same, expecting her to internalize something that she only barely understood in her fragile youthful mind. 

Geoffrey reached carefully to his hip, removing a small item in a brown pouch. Upon closer examination, Primrose realized that it was a sheath. "Primrose... I would entrust this dagger to you," Geoffrey told her carefully. "Our words are engraved upon the blade. See that they are engraved upon your heart as well."

Primrose stepped forward and accepted the dagger into her hands, looking down at it carefully. It was heavier than she anticipated, but it was still rather light. How could something to small weigh nothing at all but still carry the weight of everything she was set to inherit? How could a simple set of words do so much to induce contemplation in the mind of a young girl barely fit for comprehension of the universe? How could she find a purpose in her life when she barely understood how to follow in the footsteps of her parents despite everything she had been told? These questions rang endlessly in her mind, and the weight of the dagger suddenly felt stifling. 

~~~~~

Primrose looked out the window at the snow that rolled past the carriage. Flakes were still drifting down from the heavens, gentle and perfect in all their resplendent beauty. She remembered the scenes of her father's teachings perfectly well even with a decade spaced between her and the past, and she prayed that she never forgot. Memories of childhood wonder and misunderstanding were all that she had to hold her father to her heart with, and she wasn't about to let her one tether between herself and her family be severed. 

Well, if she was being honest, the more outward manifestation of her connection could be found in her hands. Primrose didn't know when she had taken the dagger away from her hip to hold it, but it was grasped firmly in her fingers nonetheless. She stared down at the small words engraved in cursive across the steel. Faith had told her to kill Helgenish and take revenge for Yusufa's death. Faith had told her to stay with the other members of the party around her. Faith was telling her to follow in the paths of those that killed her father and plunge her dagger straight into their chests. Her father had told her of faith countless times, and even after all these years, Primrose had to wonder if she truly understood it the way that Geoffrey once had. 

"Lady Primrose... Are you alright?"

The voice of Arianna pulled Primrose from her musings, and she glanced up to see that there were countless eyes on her from within the carriage. Everyone was watching her, able to sense that something was amiss. All of a sudden, Primrose felt as if her heart had launched itself up into her throat, blocking any meaningful words from pushing themselves free of her lips. 

"Arianna..." Primrose finally managed to say softly, refusing to meet the gazes of those around her. She had gotten too caught up in her own memories, and she could only hope that it hadn't done too much to disturb those around her. 

"You must have been very weary," Arianna commented quietly. The rest of the group continued to watch on in concern, and Primrose felt like she was going to sink down into the ground. 

"I... I was just thinking about Father," Primrose admitted. She felt a hand slide on top of her own, and she realized that Ophilia was reaching over to offer her quiet consolation. Primrose smiled gently, but she knew that everybody in the cabin could see just how much she was falsifying her grin. "Even in my memories, he will not stop lecturing me on how to live my life."

"Lord Azelhart was a man of unwavering principles," Arianna confirmed with a small nod of her own. 

"That he was," Primrose said softly. Ophilia's hand began to retreat, and Primrose found herself locking eyes with H'aanit when she looked up next. The huntress' gaze was surprisingly affectionate, and Primrose forced herself to look away before she stared for too long, knowing that the look of care from the light-haired woman was only going to make her falter if she thought about it for too long. Then again, it seemed as if everything was trying to trip her up these days, and her own memories of the past were hardly exceptions in the matter. 

Primrose took in a careful breath before she pressed herself to continue. "He taught me the sword, he taught me my letters, he taught me what it meant to live with dignity and honor... He taught me all that I know." Even back in Sunshade, she had survived because of everything that Geoffrey passed down to her. She was able to endure despite the indignities that crossed her path because she knew all that she had been taught by her father. It had helped her through her darkest of times, and hopefully, it would continue to do so. 

A small voice in the back of Primrose's mind whispered that she was betraying him by turning to the path of murder. Revenge or justice, who was to say? She forced the thought away from her attention as soon as possible, her throat threatening to close up on her along the way. 

"He always told me to choose wisely what you believe in and to have faith in your beliefs. For that faith shall be your shield," Primrose continued, looking down at the dagger still resting between her fingers. She clenched the sheath a bit tighter, wondering if Geoffrey would be willing to grace her knuckles with his own grasp even after all that she had done to turn away from the path of what many argued to be morally righteous. Her faith had taken her down a dark, terrifying path, but it was still the faith that he had once spoken of so intently. How could one be loyal and a traitor simultaneously? Primrose didn't know, but she was confident that if anyone could pull off such an impossible feat, it would be her. 

Primrose wasn't able to stop the words that fell free of her lips in the moments that followed. "What do I believe in...?" There was no easy answer to that. She believed in justice, but was justice truly shown through a path of bloodshed and murder? She could see the way that Ophilia had looked at her when they first met. The cleric had been terrified of the power that Primrose played with like it was nothing. She had been afraid of Primrose through and through, not wanting to admit it but still seeing the darkness that rested beneath the eerie smile of a Sunshade dancer. Was she doing what was right, or was she indulging herself out of a lack of comprehension of the world? Why didn't she have an easy answer to that question or any other inquiry that was constantly lurking in the back of her mind? 

"My lady...?" Arianna questioned. Primrose saw some of the others in the carriage open their mouths to speak, but before any of them could say a word, the footfall of hooves from outside the cabin came to a halt as the journey drew to a close. 

"End of the line."

Oren's voice was blunt and harsh, lacking any sort of grace, not that he particularly needed it in his line of work. He stepped down from his seat outside the carriage and opened the door, offering everyone the chance to file out of the cabin. The outside air was chilly, a stark comparison to the inherent warmth of the carriage that came with having so many people inside. Perhaps it was that warmth, that sense of belonging and family, that had cast Primrose back to Noblecourt in the first place. Maybe this was what she believed in, a set of connections that she cared for more than anything despite not even being sure that she fully deserved it after everything that she had done and inevitably would do. 

Oren didn't offer much of a chance for her to consider her philosophies though, instead reaching to close the door to the cabin. He was cut off when Arianna shook her head, and he ultimately stepped away from the door with the same detached bluntness in his eyes as always. "This is where I take my leave," he declared. "And not a word of this to the man in charge. I don't know who you are, but I know that you don't belong here." Primrose simply nodded, and Oren looked away, pretending not to see what was happening, as Arianna began to lead the group towards their destination. 

When Primrose looked off in the distance, she could see the outline of a hazy mansion against the falling snow. They had traveled quite far in such a short amount of time, it seemed, and the building was just as impressive as she would have imagined given the money that the man of the crow had been pulling in over the course of his many years of running the brothel. 

Soon enough, the mansion was towering over them, casting no shadow thanks to the absence of sunlight but still threatening as could be nonetheless. Arianna stared up at it with concern glimmering in her dark eyes. Everyone else watched the building in surprise as well, wondering what was inside while being afraid of the possibilities at the same time. At long last, Primrose was closer than ever, and she could feel it. 

The dancer swallowed dryly as she looked down to the snow, sliding her dagger and sheath where they belonged at her hip. "Once, long ago... House Azelhart was locked in a vicious struggle with several of the other high houses," she said softly. Her sentimentality was a much greater factor than she had anticipated, but she continued her story regardless. "The tales say that my forebears dirtied their hands with many inglorious deeds in those days. One time, the head of House Azelhart invited his liege lord to the castle for a great feast... Only to murder him and every last man in his party to seize power for himself."

Arianna could do nothing but stare upon hearing those words. Primrose continued. "This lord had been a cruel man, and perhaps my forebear did the common folk a great service. But it did not win him any friends. Still, my family never relinquished the power they received. And they never lost faith in their convictions. 'Faith shall be your shield.' Unwavering belief in the righteousness of what they had done protected them from any slings and slights."

Arianna swallowed anxiously. "Did it?"

Primrose shook her head. "The petty squabbles of great houses concern me no longer. But our words still guide me as they have guided my family for so long." Primrose looked up to the mansion with a solemn sheen to her gaze. "As long as I have something to believe in... This is all I need."

Arianna was silent for a long moment before she took a step forward. "Lady Primrose, what is it that you believe in?" she questioned. The words were swallowed both by Arianna herself and the wintry air around them, and the inquiry hung heavily in the air like it was going to try and suffocate all those who dared to hear its words. 

Luckily, not many had heard the question in the first place, and Primrose turned slowly to face Arianna once more. "Did you say something, Arianna?" she asked hesitantly, clearly able to tell by the look on Arianna's face that whatever words had been spoken had been far from beautiful in every possible way. 

Arianna took a few steps away before she shook her head. "It's nothing, my lady," she murmured under her breath. She turned to face the large mansion standing above them, and she let out a heavy sigh. "This is the Obsidian Parlor. The dark rumors about it never cease, yet it remains cloaked in shadow. They say men of influence from across the realm have their hands in the buying and selling of women here..." Neither Arianna nor Primrose spoke for a long moment before the former turned to face her liege of times long gone. "I have plied my trade here for several years now. In that time, many of the girls who came here disappeared as suddenly as they arrived... Yes, I am a whore. And a cheap one at that--sold to this place for a price that would not buy you a good horse. Who knows when I will be sold again, and to where, for what pittance? When I think of that..." She stared down at the snow, bidding the tears in her eyes to freeze before they fell. "It... It scares me..."

Primrose's stomach churned at those words, and she remembered when that had been her life back in Sunshade. There had always been a degree of security for her there though; after all, she was Helgenish's star performer, and he would never even dream of giving up someone who brought in so many leaves to fill his coffers. The other girls had all been expendable just as Arianna was saying she was now. 

Yusufa had been expendable. She had died as something that Helgenish thought that he could replace. 

Primrose took a step forward and placed a hand on Arianna's shoulder, wondering vaguely which one of them was more comforted by the gesture. "Forgive me, Lady Primrose. I do not deserve your pity," Arianna muttered, clearly struggling to get the words out around the knot in her throat. 

It wasn't until after Arianna had managed to regain her composure that she took a step away from Primrose and sighed, causing the dancer's hand to fall limply to her side. Arianna gestured off to the side, showing the entrance to a tunnel along the way. "Make your way through this cave," she instructed. It was at this point that Primrose noticed the rest of the group had already started to enter the cave, seemingly having figured out what the next step of accomplishing their objective was bound to be. Primrose wondered if perhaps this had also been motivated by an attempt to give her and Arianna a bit of much-needed privacy. 

Primrose looked into the cave, seeing that it was much more well-lit than she would have initially expected. Her stomach churned when she realized that this back path was likely used as a way of transporting women who would fight back too much to go through the front door. After all, the man in charge had a reputation to attend to, and screaming whores would only put his patrons off using his services more. 

"It will take you to the master's chambers," Arianna said a moment later, confirming all of Primrose's suspicions in the blink of an eye. "If you go quietly, no one will be the wiser of your coming." She paused briefly before looking up to her former liege with something pleading in her gaze. "But Lady Primrose... Do be careful." Primrose nodded, and Arianna's eyes fell shut with a twinge of regret. "I must be getting to work, so this is where I must leave you."

Primrose nodded, remorse starting to cloud her insides at the thought of Arianna being pushed into yet another day of service in the name of something so sickening and twisted. "Of course, Arianna. Thank you for all you have done," she said softly, her voice so overwhelmed with gratitude that it was difficult for her to even listen to, and she was the one speaking the words to begin with. "Take care of yourself... And have faith."

With that, Arianna nodded and began to walk in the direction of the main entrance. Primrose pulled her dagger from its sheath and stared at it for a long moment, the words upon it echoing in her mind endlessly. Perhaps the Azelhart legacy had always been meant to be something of bloodshed and conflict. Her ancestors had certainly made it seem that way, doing anything they could to stay afloat in the gruesome game of politics no matter who it meant stepping on. Primrose was already a murderer much the same way that her forebears had been, and she was only going to raise her body count until it had reached the number four. That was what she had set out to do, and even if her ideals were twisted--even if this was not truly justice--she was following what her faith and convictions had told her to do. She would be loyal to the Azelhart name even if her existence was a contradiction to such. If she had faith, she would be loyal no matter the amount of blood on her hands. 

"'Faith shall be your shield.' A fine motto."

Primrose perked up at the sound of Olberic's voice, and she glanced up to see that he was at the back end of the group that had been gathered at the entrance of the cave. The look on his face was impossible to read, and Primrose knew better than to say that he had been eavesdropping. Even if that was the case, it didn't particularly matter. She didn't mind. She couldn't bring herself to mind no matter how hard she may have wanted to try. "You think so?"

Olberic nodded. "'Tis honest and forthright. Virtues I strive to uphold," he told her, and something in Primrose's stomach lurched. He was a knight and had been for years before Hornburg fell. He had firm values, and for some reason, those were not disputed by Primrose chasing murderers with revenge on her mind. Then again, were they not the same at heart? Olberic sought justice of his own breed, and it could hardly be claimed that they were polar opposites in that regard. 

Much to Primrose's surprise, Olberic continued. "If you are in need of a swordsman to defend that motto, you only need ask. We are fellow travelers now, and so I am in your service."

Primrose's insides churned, and she wished that life was that simple. Instead, she simply smiled to herself, and she found herself speaking the most honestly she had regarding her emotions in what felt like a lifetime. "I'm very grateful for it too. Having you and everyone else nearby already gives me courage enough. But when you pledge your sword, why... I believe nothing will stop me." She couldn't say what made her think this was a good idea to say, but the words came tumbling out regardless, and they even earned a flutter of joy in her chest at the idea that she was no longer as alone as she once might have feared. 

Olberic simply smiled in return, no doubt aware of Primrose's internal struggle but not probing the matter in the slightest. "I hope that I might also call on your help, should the need arise."

Primrose nodded, and her smile only grew wider. "Of course. Whenever you need me."

Primrose forced herself to stop talking before she started to think about something that she shouldn't have, and instead, she concentrated on the path ahead. Ophilia had raised the Ember once again, and she was using its gentle white glow to light the path until the first torch appeared. The ground was icy in there, and Primrose was glad that most of them had shoes with enough traction to survive the potential slickness of the path to their target. 

Primrose looked down at the path before she let out a sigh and took the first step. She had no idea what was coming next, but she was going to do what she could to follow the path that faith presented to her. 

~~~~~

His name was Rufus. 

The man of the left crow sat atop a chair of velvet in a purple room that might as well have been the space that held a throne. Two windows sat on either side of his chair, each one allowing gentle silver light to stream in and illuminate the space. The curtains were the same purple color as the walls and carpets, making the room seem even more eerie than it was by nature. There were statues pressed against the wall, both portraying nude women in glorious positions. They had been expensive to purchase, but as far as Rufus was concerned, they had been more than worth it. Ornate paintings that had been just as pricy and exclusive hung on the walls, each one detailing yet another naked woman for the sake of the viewer. 

Three women surrounded him, all part of his regular entourage. Their names were things he knew like the back of his hand. Rufus knew who every girl under his employ was, and he had more than come to understand how all of them behaved both in and out of the bedroom. He was never seen alone by anyone even if the rotation of girls that accompanied him changed with the passage of time. Why would he want to be alone? After all, he had the entire town of Stillsnow bending to his every whim, and every woman within the territory's boundaries would never dare to define him. 

A knock came at the door, and Rufus perked up. "Enter."

The man who appeared was one drowning in white robes, his expression glossed over with concern and shame. He was a bishop of some repute from a small chapel of the Sacred Flame, someone who had been to the brothel more than a few times. "Master Rufus... Please have mercy and hear my plea..." Rufus watched him passively, his eyes unmoving. "She was my only daughter. I spared no effort in raising her to be a fine lady. Each day, I brushed her beautiful hair and dressed her in the finest silks... She... She was everything to me." His head dropped, and sorrow overcame his expression. "But then... Then she was sullied by the son of a country lordling. She could not bear being dishonored so, and on the eve of the day she was to be wed to him... She took her own life." 

The man was shuddering with grief in his eyes as he took a step closer to Rufus. The man of the crow still did not offer him even the slightest ounce of sympathy through his gaze or body language. "Never again will I stroke my daughter's long, beautiful hair... And when I think of that lordling living his days in luxury, with no punishments for his heinous deeds... It keeps me awake, night after sleepless night. Master Rufus... Please, lend me your strength." He took another step closer. "Lend me your power, that I might have my vengeance against that sinful house..."

It was only then that Rufus rose to his feet, and the women around him adjusted accordingly. None of them met the man's eyes. Rufus finally seemed to remember his name, as if the detail had been unimportant to him until that very moment. "Father Eschard... We are friends, are we not?"

The bishop began to hesitate. "B-But of course," he said, his voice tripping up at the suddenness of Rufus' inquiry. 

"And friends are always there with a helping hand in times of need," Rufus drawled, each word an unspoken threat and promise. "I trust you will lend me your strength when I am in need. You are a Bishop in the Order of the Sacred Flame. You have much to offer me."

Father Eschard took another step forward. "Anything you wish, Master Rufus. Anything at all!"

Rufus nodded, a small smile beginning to spread across his face. His eyes remained dead and detached as could be. "Then it would be my pleasure to help you. You must be lonely after the loss of your precious daughter, Father Eschard. I will give you one of my own girls." He paused in contemplation. "Hm... How about Arianna? She is close to your daughter's age and has a sweet enough disposition. Use her as you like, and I trust you will enjoy her."

The bishop's eyes went wide. "Oh, thank you, Master Rufus! Truly, your generosity knows no bounds!" he declared, gratitude flooding through his body. He turned on his heel and dashed out of the room, almost giddy with his excitement over something so twisted. There was something terrifying in his eyes, driven to the edge by a thousand different ideas of what he was going to do when he received the replacement for his daughter. A moment later, he was gone, no doubt off to imagine whatever was bound to come next. 

Rufus sighed and shook his head once he was alone. "Debts are such tricky business..." He sat back down atop his throne of velvet, and the girls around him curled in closer to tend to the one they knew as their master. "But one must make hay while the sun shines."

Chapter Text

The path through the cave was just as Primrose would have originally expected: long, difficult, and overwhelming. There were a few monsters scattered about, no doubt creatures that had decided to rest there over the years due to the shelter from the snow outside, and she had to admit that they acted as a strong albeit unintentional defense to the path leading to the Obsidian Parlor. It seemed as if she was cleaning off her dagger every few minutes to make sure that it wasn't covered in the blood of some frozen beast when she arrived at her destination. The task had already proven itself to be arduous, but Primrose was nothing if not enduring in the face of hardship. Her perseverance had lasted her the past decade, and it would continue to serve her well in the future, she was sure. 

"Why so grim?"

Therion's voice pulled Primrose out of her current work of shining her dagger free of crimson stains, and she glanced up to him solemnly. He was watching her carefully, and it dawned on Primrose that this was one of the first times that Therion had approached a member of their party of his own volition. In other words, there was something that he wanted to say. He wouldn't be so careless with his interactions if he didn't have something that he was desperate to get across. 

But in that moment, Primrose was ignorant as to what it could have been, so she simply went back to cleaning her dagger, her walls already coming up as a result of the last time that she had shared a conversation with Therion. "Grim?" she echoed cautiously. 

"You look like a tiger about to pounce on its prey," Therion drawled, saying the words as if they were the most obvious observation that could have possibly been made. His hands were shoved into his pockets, making him seem as if he cared a lot less than he very blatantly did. 

Primrose finally sheathed her dagger when she was satisfied with her work on cleaning it, and she continued to stare at Therion carefully, trying to read him for any signs of something out of the ordinary. "Maybe I am. I've been hunting for a long time now," she said quietly. 

Therion's visible eye narrowed in her direction. "Well, just make sure the hunter doesn't become the hunted." His words held so many different meanings that Primrose felt as if she was liable to be knocked off her feet from the words. He was worried about her potentially falling victim to the darkness that lurked in the corners of Stillsnow, especially given how obvious the shadows had become as a result of speaking with Arianna. He had put the pieces together regarding her history with Helgenish as far as Primrose could guess, and his warning from earlier in the trip made it perfectly clear that he was worried about her specifically. The idea that she would wind up the next victim of the men of the crow was the furthest thing from either of their minds; Therion knew that she would be able to fight back on that front. He was worried about the town itself that housed the man of such danger. 

Primrose did what she could to analyze his words for a long moment, taking them in carefully despite the way that they made her heart skip a few beats. "Don't worry about me. I know what I'm doing," she assured him, but she knew that the words were going to ring hollow as long as Therion was as worried as he was. "When I set a goal, I always achieve it. I'm not the sort to forget her lines at a show's finale."

The second meaning to Therion's words was not lost on her, and he was fully aware of such a fact. He continued to examine her carefully, searching for any clues to show that she was honest about what she was trying to get across. Therion only stopped looking when he found that he was at least decently satisfied with the way that her clothing hid the body that had gained her such repute back in Sunshade. It was the first sign of danger in a town like Stillsnow, and both of them knew it. 

Therion chose to not comment on the fact that they were both dancing around though, instead turning his attention to the path ahead. His gaze locked solely on the Ember as it danced in Ophilia's lantern at the front of the party. "I'll take your word for it."

Primrose offered him a light smile even though she knew that he wouldn't be able to see it given their current positions. "But I appreciate your concern. I didn't realize you cared so much..." The comment was partially made in jest, but Primrose would have been lying if she said that there was no genuine surprise behind it. Therion had always been a difficult one to read, but Primrose could tell that he was much kinder than his original appearance would have suggested. He was a thief, but he wasn't an outright antagonist. He didn't want anyone to get hurt if there was something that could be done to avoid such a fate, and the rest of the group was evidence of this much. 

Of course, that didn't mean that Therion was ready to admit such a fact, so he simply let out a small snort to cover for the way that he was quietly embarrassed by Primrose's multiplicity of meaning with the small comment. "I know. I'm so thoughtful," he muttered dryly. He clearly didn't want to acknowledge all that he had done up to that point, and so, he simply chose to ignore it. Primrose could tell that he was good at that; if he pretended that an issue didn't exist, then it wouldn't be able to bother him. It was a solid theory in practice, but such a thing was bound to come back to bite in the future. 

But in that moment, they were safe from all dangers related to Therion's personal flaws or otherwise. Or, to be more accurate, they were safe as soon as Cyrus released a targeted fire attack in the direction of a monster that dared to come too close. His spells were effortless these days, and he didn't even need to stop their walking to dispose of those that stood in their way. Primrose had been doing her best to imitate his magical practices, but something inside of her doubted that she would ever be able to truly follow in his footsteps to such a degree. 

Olberic was quick to dispatch of a monster that threatened to lunge for Tressa a few moments later, and from there, he allowed his sword to come down to his side. "Here we are," he declared. 

Primrose stopped in her tracks along with the rest of the group. Sure enough, the cavern passageway had given way to a simple door, one that was much more elaborate than anything that had been seen up to that point. The handle was cold to the touch when Primrose managed to make her way to the front of the party to reach out for it. The door was a velvety purple color with gold lining, something so exquisite that it screamed its true intentions even in the silence. 

"This is it," Ophilia murmured. She took a step closer and held up the Ember so that they would be able to examine the door in full before she turned to look at Primrose. Concern gleamed like a pair of stars in her eyes, and the lanthorn cast an eerie yet soft white glow across her features. "Are you ready? There won't be any going back once we step inside."

It was strange to Primrose how easy it was to both be overwhelmingly ready for something and simultaneously not at all prepared for it. She let out a careful breath as she tried desperately to stabilize her rampaging emotions, Therion's conversation with her still on the edge of her mind. This was the start of everything that she had been waiting for. On the other side of that door, she was going to find the final stretch that would take her to the man of the left wing of the crow. At long last, she was going to reach her goal, and she had no idea what she was supposed to do or feel on the matter. 

But she didn't let that stop her. Primrose nodded to Ophilia solemnly. "I always have been," she murmured under her breath. The truth of those words could be very easily called into question, but Primrose didn't offer anyone the time needed to question her as she twisted the doorknob and stepped inside, the rest of the group hot on her trail. 

The hallway on the other side of the door was just what Primrose would have expected. The area was lined in purple velvet, and everything certainly lived up to its title of the Obsidian Parlor. The walls were lined with golden trim, and it was so ornate that it seemed less like a brothel hall and more like a palace. It was certainly a step up in terms of quality when compared to the tavern that Sunshade had used as its base of operations. Helgenish's mansion in all of its terrifying glory hadn't even been able to stand up to this.

The rest of the building stretched out in the hallway that branched off from the door that came from the cavern, and while Primrose couldn't make out the details, she could only imagine that it was just as ornate, if not more so, than the area that she found herself in at present. There was a single door nearby, and Primrose could feel that this was her destination. Everything about it was fancier than the rest of the building, and that was most certainly saying something given the circumstances. On the other side of that door, she would be able to find her past, present, and future. On the other side of that door, she was going to kill the first of the three foul corvids that had murdered her father. 

Primrose surprised herself with how little she hesitated when it came to walking up to the door. She was shaking when her hand raised itself to the knob, and Primrose wondered if it was because of her anger or something else entirely. In the end, she didn't give herself the chance to think, and she pushed her way inside without a beat of hesitation. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and the rest of the group trailed in her footsteps without a word of ceremony. 

Without a doubt, this was the exact man that she had seen speaking with Helgenish back in Sunshade. He had pulled back the hood of his dark cloak, and his left arm was perfectly exposed. There it was in the broad midday light: the symbol of the foul scavenger she had spent so many years searching for. "The mark of the crow on your left arm..." Primrose began to say, her hand already drifting in the direction of her sheathed dagger. Her voice was on the verge of breaking when she next spoke due to something that tasted a lot like copper anger and bitter grief. "So we finally meet again." She took a step forward. "Do you have any idea how long I've waited for this day?"

The blonde man on the other side of the room simply stared at her, his head tilting slightly to one side. His eyes remained just as apathetic as always. "Have we met, milady?" he questioned, his voice a lazy drawl of detachment that made Primrose feel sick to her stomach. That was the same voice she had heard in Noblecourt ten years ago and again a short while ago in Sunshade. It was him without a shadow of a doubt. After a moment of staring at her, his eyes widened with recognition. "No, wait... You do look familiar... Didn't I see you dancing on a stage in some desert town?"

Primrose didn't offer him the dignity of being correct on the matter. She was both overly aware and not aware at all when it came to the presences of her party members on either side of her. "Think back further. I am Primrose Azelhart."

The gears began to turn in Rufus' head. "Primrose... Azelhart?" He was silent for a long contemplative moment before he looked up with a sneer on his lips, though his eyes remained as dead as could be. "The young lady of House Azelhart? My, how far from home you've come..."

"Do you remember now?" Primrose practically snarled. Rage was starting to boil over inside of her, all of her previous doubts being cast to the wayside in favor of focusing on this moment and everything that it had ever meant to her. "Do you remember me? My house? My father?" Each word was growing closer to the apex of her very being, her anger starting to hit a peak that she had never before experienced. She could have sworn that she saw red the color of her father's blood in the corners of her vision. 

"Geoffrey Azelhart..." Rufus murmured. He fell into silence for a long handful of seconds before he nodded. "Yes, I remember him quite well. The man knew how to handle a sword... And he was no fool. Wasn't easy to bring him down... Though bring him down we did. For all his virtues, your father made far too many enemies. It's not good for one's health, you see."

Primrose continued to glare, only barely managing to soothe her raging emotions in the midst of her internalized chaos. "What crime would you lay at his feet? What could he possibly have done to deserve death?" she questioned solemnly. 

"He came to know something which he had no right to know," Rufus responded simply as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "And it fell to my friends and I to sweep things back under the rug."

Primrose surprised herself with how calm she remained in the face of such words. "I see. But surely you know well enough... Strike against another, and you invite a strike in return." That was one lesson that she had learned all too well while she was working beneath Helgenish. There was no fighting back against him, but that was the justification he used each time he crushed somebody beneath his heel who tried to stand up to his brutality. 

Rufus could only chuckle under his breath. "Is that so?"

At long last, Primrose unsheathed her blade, and the silver of the knife gleamed in the low lighting of the room. The Ember cast a gentle glow upon it that made it seem to light up like a star in the night sky. "This dagger has never left my side. I have not relinquished it once, just as my memories of my father have never left me. He always told me to be true to my beliefs. To have faith in myself and never fail to carry out what I knew must be done. You three, bearing the mark of the crow... I will kill you all. That is the only thing I believe in now. That is my reason for being." She leveled her dagger in his direction, eyes narrowing. "Be prepared to meet your fate, crow!"

Rufus let out a dry snort as he rose from his throne at long last. "You aren't the first to say such words to me. Like as not, you won't be the last. I will bury you... As I've buried all the rest. I am Rufus, the left wing of the crow." He walked forward, and the three women at his side all scattered, refusing to look at anyone despite the clear fear etched onto their expressions. "Now come, precious daughter of House Azelhart. I will send you to your father's side!"

The three women in the room made a dash for the door as soon as they realized that this was going to escalate into physical combat, and they were gone from view soon afterwards. Primrose let them go; the women deserved to be able to get away, to not be caught up in everything that was going to come next. After all, this battle was going to be brutal, and the last thing that she wanted was for there to be innocent victims to everything that was about to happen. 

As soon as the dancers disappeared from sight, all eyes were locked solely on Rufus, but Tressa was the first one to respond. She sent out an attack with her spear, and Rufus was immediately knocked off balance by the action. He went to lash out with a roundhouse kick, but he was cut off when Olberic stepped between Tressa and Rufus with his sword raised to make sure that the attack would never make contact. Rufus was able to maneuver away from Olberic without getting severely injured, but he wasn't able to escape what came next when H'aanit released a thunder attack in the shape of a bird. It streaked through the sky before hitting him roughly. 

It was at this moment that the door opened once again, and when Primrose turned, she frowned at the sight of a pair of guards entering the room. It seemed as if they had heard the commotion and were moving to defend their master. It mattered little to her; if they insisted on getting in her way, then she was just going to have to cut them down as well. She sent a dagger attack towards one of them before pulling together as much energy of the light energy as possible. Primrose was hardly the best when it came to that type of magic, but she had been watching Ophilia and Cyrus long enough to be able to figure out the general idea of what she was supposed to do when it came to casting spells of this nature. Plus, the gift that Aelfric had granted them involving the powers of light magic had certainly helped Primrose to pick up on it quickly, and it came to her much easier than she could have ever expected. 

The dagger hit at the guard was actually enough to knock him off balance, offering the perfect chance for Alfyn to sweep in with an axe attack that forced the man backwards. Tressa once again appeared with her hands glowing green. Wind magic came together in the air before spiraling towards the pair of guards. The one that Primrose and Alfyn had attacked was left dazed and disoriented, unable to do much more than stumble around the area. 

H'aanit was quick to pick up on this weakness, and Therion did much the same. The guards were well-trained as any defenders of the man of the crow were bound to be, but that didn't mean that they were invincible. H'aanit's axe was more than able to cleave through their armor while Therion was able to stab at the places in between the steel enough to send the other man into a daze as well. In other words, they were both at a disadvantage and unable to fight, leaving only Rufus himself to be dealt with for the time being. 

Primrose knew that this time where Rufus was alone in the battle was not slated to last long, and she and everyone else had to take advantage of this while they had the chance. Ophilia took this as her opportunity to rush forward with light magic crackling on her fingertips, and she sent the blast out towards Rufus. Cyrus lashed out with his staff before quickly retreating. Olberic sent a sword strike out in Rufus' direction before he jumped backwards, barely managing to avoid a punch that would have sent anyone save for Olberic and H'aanit spiraling to the ground immediately. 

Unfortunately, the group's good luck of dodging was not slated to last. Therion was getting ready to sneak up behind Rufus for a quick strike, but he was ultimately cut off when a kick was sent backwards into his stomach. Therion stumbled back by a few feet, his eyes going wide, but Alfyn was quick to cover for the hole that he left behind in the midst of the battle. He used his axe to send Rufus backwards before any further damage could be dealt. Therion's eyes narrowed in something unreadable before he vanished like a streak of shadow to take care of the guards nearby. 

Cyrus had shifted his attention in the direction of the two guards in the area, and he let in a careful breath before he lashed out with a powerful blast of ice magic. Primrose could tell almost immediately that the ice wasn't going to be merciful. A few icicles had already pierced the clothing of the dazed men, and they didn't move even as Primrose watched them for a few long moments. Her eyes went wide, and she wondered if perhaps Cyrus had inadvertently killed them in the heat of the battle. 

Primrose ultimately shoved that thought process aside when H'aanit released a handful of arrows in the direction of the two men, pinning their clothing to the nearby wall. Blood was starting to stain the pristine royal purple, and a few smears of it had managed to get onto the stone statues on either side of the room. Nobody seemed to mind that though, and Primrose knew that she most certainly didn't care; after all, she had seen more than enough blood to numb her mind to the effect the night that her father died. This had happened all over again with Yusufa in the deserts of Sunshade. 

Whether this was truly honest or not was debatable, but Primrose didn't offer the thought the dignity of manifesting itself beyond what it already was. 

Tressa sent out a pair of quick jabs with her spear at Rufus, and Olberic did much the same. H'aanit used a thunderous attack as soon as she was finished with her arrows, and Linde and Hägen both happily converged on Rufus long enough for him to lose all sense of stability. The battle had been taken out from beneath his feet, and he was too dazed to do much of anything to fight back. 

Of course, that didn't stop his sheer determination to continue. He let out a punch with as much force as he could stand to release, and it wound up making contact with the nearest person in the area. H'aanit had gotten a bit too close out of her desire to see that no harm came to Linde or Hägen, and she didn't have time to react beyond widening her eyes when Rufus' fist made contact with the center of her chest. 

H'aanit was sent stumbling backwards, cradling her injury that was no doubt slated to leave a bruise at the heart of her torso. She gasped in an attempt to regain her sense of balance and breath, and something inside of Primrose stirred angrily. Before she could stop herself, she realized that she was snapping her fingers to create an attack of light magic. It came all too easily to her under the influence of Aelfric's recent gift, and just like that, all of Rufus' energy was drained. He couldn't even fight back in a clumsy, disoriented fashion, instead forced to stagger backwards by a few feet in an attempt to regain a sense of himself. 

Unfortunately for him, Primrose was hardly in the mood for mercy or remorse, and she rushed towards him with her dagger flashing. She dealt a quick stabbing injury to his shoulder before brutally tearing the knife free, leaving behind a large gash that oozed crimson onto the carpets that were no longer as perfectly clean as Rufus would have liked. 

That seemed to be the straw that snapped Rufus' resolve. His eyes went wide, and before he could stop himself, he was sent crashing down to one knee, one hand cradling at his injury while the other held him somewhat upright on the carpet. He was breathing heavily, having lost himself almost completely during the fight. Even so, he managed to force his head up so that he was looking Primrose in the eyes. The apathetic, dead sheen to his irises had been replaced by something fiery, a desire for vengeance that was burning like an inferno before Primrose's very eyes. "The girl has some fight in her..." Rufus commented with a choked laugh. He was trying to seem more composed than he actually was, and he was failing miserably at it. "How does it taste, my lady? Is vengeance as sweet as you dreamed it would be all these years?"

Primrose was silent for a long moment, and the recognition dawned on her that the reason she had rushed forward with such brutality out of the blue was because she recognized that H'aanit was in danger. To show how dangerous the situation had been, Linde and Hägen had come to curl protectively around her feet. In all honesty, Primrose had been feeling somewhat hollow up until that nerve was struck and the fear of loss and abandonment came rushing through her with burning rage. Revenge had been her purpose for so many years, and yet, when she needed it most, she was unable to call upon the strength that it provided her. 

But she wasn't foolish enough to let Rufus know that. Instead, she simply looked down at her dagger as it dripped with his blood. "It has only just begun." In the background of Primrose's conversation with Rufus, the other members of the group were disposing of a few other guards that had come running upon hearing the ruckus of the battle. Alfyn hit one man over the head with the hilt of his axe as Ophilia allowed her healing power to fall upon all of them, recovering any injuries that had appeared during the fight. H'aanit's breathing began to regulate itself as Cyrus sent out another blast of ice accompanied by Tressa's gusts of wind to knock the guards as far away as possible. 

Rufus laughed once again, but pain overflowed from each sound he made. Blood was flowing freely from all of his injuries now, creating a notable pool of rust around where he was crouched. "Quite so... You have a long road ahead of you..." He snickered to himself, trying his best to find something positive in the dismal moment that he knew of as his death. "Go home, girl... Go home to Noblecourt... There you will find... The truth you seek... If you have... The strength... To face it..."

Primrose didn't say anything to acknowledge his words, instead simply closing the distance between them and plunging her dagger directly into the core of his ribcage. A moment later, he stopped moving, and when Primrose pulled her knife free of his chest, Rufus' corpse fell backwards onto the ground, the crow tattoo just as prominent as ever, albeit stained red with wild scarlet as a result of Primrose's injury to his shoulder. She looked down at him, doing her best to ignore the sensation of emptiness that was starting to well up from inside of her. This was all that she had ever dreamed of doing. Why did she feel so hollow when this battle had been her purpose for almost half her life up to that point?

Primrose didn't know how long she stood there, but the cacophony of the battle against the guards began to die down as those that had dashed to the entryway of the room were either killed or knocked unconscious. However, there was one person who appeared soon afterwards who did not fall under the label of Rufus' guard employ, and she was the only one who was able to break through the chaos to the inside of the room. 

Arianna wove between the rest of the travelers to reach the scene of the battle, and her eyes went wide when she saw Rufus dead on the ground and his blood staining Primrose's dagger. "Lady Primrose..." she murmured in shock, unable to bring herself to say much more. 

Primrose was admittedly relieved for the distraction from her own thoughts, the chance to get out of her own head, and she reached into her things to pull out a small cloth. She took to cleaning the dagger soon afterwards, blood staining the fabric in a cruel, rusty display. "It is done," she declared simply even though such had been obvious from the moment Arianna arrived. "Now two remain."

Arianna stared at Primrose for a long moment, but the dancer didn't look up to meet her gaze. Instead, she simply sheathed her dagger and waited for the battle at the doorway to draw to a close in full. She was going to Noblecourt next. That was where the party as a whole was headed as well. It was the next town over from Stillsnow, and that was where Therion was headed to steal the first of the dragonstones for the sake of Heathcote and Cordelia. That meant that Primrose was going to have her chance to defeat the second wing of the crow as soon as they left the town of Stillsnow. 

But she wasn't ready. The sensation of something bitter and hollow had completely overtaken her, and she was almost entirely numb to the fact that she had carried out the first act of her revenge. Rufus' body was proof of all that she had done, but she didn't give it a second glance. She needed time to think over all that had happened, but unfortunately for Primrose, she had no idea how long that was going to take. 

This is what I have faith in... Right?

Chapter Text

The process of leaving the mansion behind was so simple given all that had just been accomplished, and Ophilia couldn't help but wonder how everything had taken place. It was strange how simultaneously complex and simple it had been from start to finish. Primrose had killed the man of the crow, and the rest of them had fought through his forces so that they would be able to escape to begin with. It was simple when she put it that way, but the longer that Ophilia thought about it, the more complications seemed to arise.

She had seen Primrose throughout the battle, and she could tell that there was more to the dancer than originally met the eye. That much was clear as could be given the nature of Primrose herself as a person and the way that she behaved, but Ophilia still found herself thinking about it. When Primrose set her mind to a goal of revenge, it was like she didn't think about anything else. That was all that mattered to her, the driving force that kept a wind in her sails and a breath in her lungs. It was almost terrifying just how much she was driven by this one factor.

But at the same time, Ophilia could tell that there was more going on than any of them could have initially anticipated. It seemed as if everything was complicated these days, but Primrose was the embodiment of the complexity. She was driven by revenge, but at the same time, she seemed to falter in her convictions. She didn't let anyone see this openly, but there was something that was holding her back, a question in her mind inquiring as to if this was the best decision for her to be making. Ophilia had no answer, and she didn't think that anybody else was able to reply either.

The plan was established quickly for everyone to get ready to leave behind Stillsnow the following morning. They were going to gather together any extra supplies that they could have needed before heading for the entrance of the town so that they could get to Noblecourt before the sun went down the next day. They wouldn't have been able to make it to Noblecourt before sundown that night, and so, they decided that staying in Stillsnow was the best option for the time being.

Ophilia was more than fine with this, truth be told. There had been something on her mind for quite some time. Ever since they first arrived in Stillsnow, she found her mind drifting elsewhere. She looked down at the staff in her hands before her gaze fell on the Ember a moment later. She had been struggling to maintain her focus as long as she had Aelfric lingering in the back of her mind. There were still so many questions that she had not been able to ask the goddess, and as long as they were in the area, Ophilia wanted to do at least something to hear about all that she had missed out on.

She found herself walking to the front entrance of town, and she tucked her staff away in her bag. Everyone else was focused on gathering supplies for the coming journey. Surely they wouldn't notice if she was gone for a short while. She had to do this regardless of their thoughts on the matter; there was something in the back of her mind that told her this was the best course of action. For all she knew, she was never going to get a chance like this again, and she had to take it with everything she had.

Ophilia's fingers curled a bit tighter around the handle of the Lanthorn, and she let out a small sigh before starting to walk into the snow ahead. She could still remember where the shrine was, and hopefully, it would be able to answer all of the questions that she still had.

~~~~~

To say that Primrose was conflicted was an understatement.

As soon as the chance arrived, she wound up retreating to her room within the inn. All of the women in the brothel had scattered with Rufus' death, and the guards under his employ began to slink into the shadows. They were seemingly terrified that the force that had killed their previous employer would come for them as well. Just like that, the Obsidian Parlor became devoid of activity, nothing more than a shadow lingering in the snow just outside the town.

Primrose did her best to not think about it as she sat down on her bed. She had been pacing for quite some time, glad that H'aanit wasn't around to see her restless movements. Primrose didn't know what she was supposed to do or think in that moment, but she could say with certainty that there was something wrong on a fundamental level. There was something in the back of her mind that wasn't clicking into the place the way that it should have been, and if she was being honest with herself, that realization was nothing short of terrifying.

Getting revenge on Rufus had felt good. She would have been lying if she said that she didn't take at least some satisfaction from being able to plunge her dagger into his chest. Plus, she had a lead regarding where she was meant to be heading next even if she didn't think that she would be ready to follow it when they did arrive in Noblecourt for Therion's mission. She should have been on top of the world, and yet... She just wasn't.

Primrose felt something hesitant in the back of her mind, a sweeping sensation of hollow emptiness that seemed intent on drowning her. She did her best to shake it off, but she knew that it wasn't going to be that easy. Nothing ever was, it seemed. Her revenge hadn't been as perfect as she made it seem to Arianna or anyone else in the group. She felt bad, but it wasn't at all involved with the fact that she had just committed yet another murder.

No, the emptiness came from something else entirely, almost like something was telling her that she wasn't meant to be doing this to begin with. But her revenge had been her purpose for years up to this point, so how could it not be right? This was everything that she had ever dreamed of, so why wasn't she happy with how it had all turned out? This idea had pushed her forward even through dishonor, agony, and grief. Why weren't the pieces falling the way that they should have been?

Primrose wished that she knew what was going on, but she knew that it wasn't going to be easy to figure out what it was that her mind was trying to tell her. Where was she even supposed to start in terms of finding answers? Nothing made sense anymore. She continued to stare down at the dagger that she had removed from her sheath, reading the words as they reflected back to her in the gentle glow of the lamplight in the room. The flames cast her face in an aura of red.

Red. The same color as her dancer's costume. The same color as blood. The same color as her fury.

Primrose wondered if this truly was what she had faith in. It always had been up to recently. That was what kept her going, kept her alive. But that had been before she tasted revenge, bittersweet like acidic candy on her tongue. That had been before Yusufa died in her arms after being attacked by a man who had abused them both almost to the point of death. That had been before she started to connect with people for the first time in a decade. Just like that, her defensive walls came crashing down, and they had brought insecurity from the outside world.

Primrose was cradling her cheek in one hand when she heard the door open. She glanced up and saw the last person that she wanted to see in that moment: H'aanit. Seeing H'aanit meant that she had to acknowledge the fact that she lashed out at Rufus in her final show of brutality in part because she was trying to keep H'aanit from further damage. Speaking with H'aanit forced Primrose to recognize that she had been afraid of loss yet again with someone who had tried to keep herself from bonding with. Damn it, why did nothing ever work out as she hoped?

H'aanit closed the door behind her carefully, Linde and Hägen settling down on the floor a moment later. H'aanit was acting as if nothing was wrong, unbothered by the injuries she had sustained earlier in the day. Ophilia and Alfyn were miracle workers, not that this particularly surprised Primrose. The dancer instead watched H'aanit carefully, praying that the huntress hadn't noticed her outburst that morning. 

It seemed that the universe was taking mercy on Primrose this time when H'aanit spoke. "Primrose, I wolde asken thee about that dagger."

Primrose realized that the dagger was still sitting between her fingertips, and she glanced up carefully before meeting H'aanit's eyes. That was enough to convince Primrose to retreat with her gaze, backing down despite her perpetual stubbornness of intent. "...It was a gift from my father."

H'aanit's fingers drifted up to her chest, twirling something back and forth gently. Her eyes took on a somewhat melancholy, tragic texture. "Thou dost treasuren it greatly. I knowe this because---"

"Of those two rings, hanging from your necklace?" Primrose finished for her. She had noticed the rings quite some time ago, back when they first met H'aanit in S'warkii, but she hadn't ever brought them up. It was easy enough to figure out what they meant, but Primrose didn't want to pry. It seemed as if her intentions had been shattered to pieces though. It wouldn't be the first time. 

H'aanit nodded, seemingly unaware of Primrose's plight on the surface but no doubt all too knowing of what was going through the dancer's head. The huntress was too perceptive for Primrose's good sometimes. "Indeed. They aren the only thing I have left from my parents. I have no memories of them, for they died when I was but an infant. But as long as I weare these around my neck, I feele that they aren watching over me." H'aanit paused thoughtfully, and Primrose couldn't help but notice how detached H'aanit's words had been as she spoke about deceased relatives. "'Tis a strange thing, how love doth liven on after death..."

Primrose didn't know how to respond to that for a long moment, so she simply remained silent. When she did reply, her words were soft and careful. "It is, indeed."

Neither one of them said a word in the aftermath of Primrose's final thoughts on the conversation. It seemed that Primrose was far from being the only orphan in the group's ranks. H'aanit made for the tipping point to show that the parentless were in the majority of their party (Primrose, Olberic, Alfyn, Therion, Ophilia to some degree, and now, H'aanit). Primrose felt a stab of something tragic in her chest, but she did her best to shove it aside, swallowing down her nerves regardless of how anxious she really was starting to get. 

Primrose had seen more than enough of loss. It had been too much when she was a child asking her father if he would protect her in the aftermath of her mother's death. It had been too much when Primrose was left to cradle herself to peace after her father was murdered. It had been too much when she saw the life fade from Yusufa's eyes at Helgenish's hands. Primrose had seen too much, and she couldn't go through it again. 

Ironic, wasn't it? She was someone who had decided that she would never hesitate when it came to ending the lives of those who deserved it, and yet, she was unable to stand anything resembling loss herself. Was that not what all of this was? She was trying to fill the hole in her chest left behind by loss, but there was no way to fully undo the damage that grief left. It would live with her for the rest of her life. She hadn't been able to escape it in the past, and she wasn't going to be able to escape it in present times either. 

Primrose's mind flickered back to what had happened when she saw H'aanit get hit by Rufus in the midst of the fight. She knew realistically that H'aanit was more than strong enough to sustain damage on that level, but she couldn't seem to make herself stop fearing what could happen if this was the time that something broke. She remembered the way that Therion had slumped over motionless in the aftermath of the fight against the ghisarma or the fact that Tressa had been driven to exhaustion during their battle with the blotted viper. Primrose, for all of her selfishness, didn't want to see that happen again. She didn't think that she was going to be able to take witnessing something on that level of tragedy after everything else. 

So she did her best to push it out of her mind as she sheathed her dagger, wondering if perhaps defending others was what she actually had faith in. Was that what she should have been working towards instead? Should she have been thinking about something greater than her previous scope of focus? Perhaps revenge hadn't been what she was aiming for all this time. Maybe all she had ever wanted was security, and to her, the idea of avenging her father was the only thing that would be able to provide her with that sense of balance in the face of uncertainty. 

Primrose didn't know, but she decided after only a few moments of musing that she didn't want to think about it anymore. She laid down on her bed even though it was still only the afternoon, allowing her eyes to slip shut. She didn't want anything to do with Stillsnow anymore the same way that she didn't want to think about the crows. Nobody else had heard that her next destination was Noblecourt. If she didn't say anything about it, then she would be able to hide away in the inn when they arrived at the next town and pretend that nothing was happening. If she hid herself, then she would be able to think about everything that had happened for a while longer before she was forced to fight against the next of the crows, and she needed that more than she thought. 

Primrose's eyes peeked open when she heard a purring sound from nearby. She stared across the room and saw that H'aanit was looking down at Linde like the snow leopard meant everything in the world to her as she stroked at her hunting partner's ears. Linde was nuzzling against H'aanit's grasp, desperate to get as much attention as possible. Primrose simply smiled to herself, glad to see that at least someone in their group could be happy while they were there. In Primrose's eyes, there was something almost magical about the way that H'aanit was regarding Linde, but she didn't know how to describe it. In the back of her mind, Primrose wondered if perhaps she wanted to protect things like this. 

She never had the chance to finish that thought before she fell into slumber, but that time when she dreamed, it wasn't about her father. Instead, she thought about H'aanit, Linde, and everyone else being content and happy with her at the heart of it all. For the first time, Primrose felt safe, and she wasn't even awake to fully understand it. The worst part was that she wasn't even surprised. 

~~~~~

It was surprising how quickly everything in Stillsnow started to fall apart. 

Therion had been sweeping through the shadows of the town ever since the man at the helm of the operation went down, and it seemed like Stillsnow was chaos under the initial impression of calm. The town as a whole seemed like it knew what it was doing, but Therion knew better. He could see something liberated yet aimless in the eyes of the women who had previously been in the brothel. Most of them were gathered together in small clusters around the town, whispering to one another in a panic. They knew that Rufus was dead, but his death meant that they had no idea what they were going to do next. The guards had given up on trying to round up the people who had left the parlor behind, seemingly realizing that there was no chance that they would be able to regain their previous sense of control.

The solution to the problem was obvious as far as Therion was concerned; anyone who was able to run a mansion of that size had more than enough in terms of money to help others function. He could sense the richness in the room before anyone else even thought to mention it. He didn't know where the money in the mansion was, but he would be able to figure it out with a little bit of digging. The rich were all fools; Therion was smart enough to determine what they were doing in terms of hiding their leaves, and so, he would be able to execute his small plan easily. 

Therion was careful as he made his way through the snow back in the direction of the mansion. The snow falling overhead had grown less intense, and much to Therion's surprise, the parlor was closer than it seemed in the carriage ride. He was hardly a fan of the cold, but he pushed through for the sake of the rewards he knew were going to be waiting for him on the other side. 

When Therion arrived at the mansion, it took just a few seconds for him to break in and smack the lock open. He tucked his pick back into his pocket and sighed, shaking his head. He was able to move inside easily, avoiding the guards that were still daring to lurk in the area. Rufus was bound to keep his leaves somewhere out of reach of the people would be visiting the building. He was smart enough to keep from being caught all this time, so he had to have at least something resembling clever wit. 

Therion descended to the bottom floor of the mansion through a stairway that was hidden behind a door that was hardly subtle. It was almost pathetic how simplistic this was, and in a way, it was just the boost of pride that Therion needed after his failure at House Ravus. Therion didn't run into anyone from there, and he couldn't help shaking his head. Rufus was the one who was running the show by the pure fear he induced in others, and with him dead, there was nobody around to make sure that the mansion was somewhat stable. 

In other words, this was just the situation that Therion had been hoping for. 

The room with leaves was easy enough to find, the single door bolted shut with three separate locks. Therion didn't have any issues with busting them open, and he realized that this parlor, despite being even more of a terrifying reputation than House Ravus, would have been much easier to rob. Therion didn't feel guilty about it in the slightest; after all, this money had been earned by forcing blood, sweat, and tears from the women who had been under Rufus' employ. Judging by the amount of leaves in the room, Therion could only assume that they hadn't been paid anywhere near enough. No amount of money could have given them what they needed to press on under the circumstances of forced prostitution, and Therion's stomach churned with rage. His hands were shaking with fury when he shoved the lock pick back to his pocket, and the fool's bangle jingled wildly only in part because of its noisy habits. 

Therion tore open the bag that he had brought hidden under his cloak and started shoveling leaves inside. It wasn't as if he was worried about being caught; there were barely any guards in here anymore as it was, and he would have been able to fight his way out if he had to anyways. This was a matter of pride on a thousand different levels, and Therion wasn't going to back down in the face of what could have crossed his path in the future. 

There were still so many leaves in the room that Therion had barely made a dent when his bag was full. He glared at the leaves left behind, and he knew that he was going to be ferrying money back and forth for quite a while. He sighed and shook his head before he made his way back to the door. He would be back soon enough. 

In the meantime, Therion knew what he was going to be doing. He locked the door once again, his rage having finally calmed down from the nearly explosive outburst that his mind had presented him with. He retreated from the mansion without any issues, and the guards that he did happen to pass by were still deep in discussion and panic regarding what they were going to be doing from there. Therion was more than fine with that; they had spent so much enforcing a dreadful system that pushed down the women who were already in the brothel against their will in the name of survival. As far as he was concerned, they were getting what they deserved. 

When Therion arrived back at the town, he made his way to the brothel dormitory. All of the women living there had scattered throughout the town, desperate to put some distance between themselves and the situation at hand, and that was more than perfect for what Therion was hoping to do. He was able to slip in without being spotted, and from there, he set down the bag and pulled the leaves out before putting them on the ground. He counted up the beds and began to divide the leaves somewhat evenly before he rose back to his full height. Therion saw a pair of worn bags sitting near the wall, and upon noticing that they were empty, he reached out to grab them before masking them beneath his cloak along with the bag he had originally brought. He could carry the weight of the extra leaves thanks to his many years of improving his strength, skill, and speed, and it would help the process to go by as fast as possible. 

~~~~~

Ferrying the money back and forth ultimately took up more of Therion's day than he was expecting, and by the time he was finished, the all too familiar creep of hunger in his stomach had blocked out most of his other concerns. He took a small number of his stolen leaves into his pocket so that he could get something nice before their food was reduced to travel rations on the way to Noblecourt. He was sure that the group would be sitting pretty in Noblecourt with all these leaves, something especially impressive given how rich and expensive Noblecourt inherently was. Therion had been there a few times, and the stench of the wealthy was overpowering. Luckily for him, the fools made for good marks, and he was going to take full advantage of that during the group's trip there. 

Therion had returned to the room with a bundle of meat and started to dig in when he heard the door open. Alfyn was walking inside, clearly shivering from the bitter chill despite his warmer clothing. "Hey, Ther. I was wondering where you got off to." Alfyn's voice trailed off before he could say anything else as his gaze dropped to the ground. The leaves in the borrowed bags from the brothel dormitory were out in the open, and all Alfyn could do was stare. 

The room was silent for a long moment before Alfyn glanced back up to Therion. "You've been busy," was all he said as he set his satchel down on the bed that he had laid claim to during their time in Stillsnow. He crossed his arms as he looked down to the shorter thief, his eyes narrowing. "Where did all of that come from? I hope that you haven't been robbin' the people of this town."

Therion shrugged as he went back to eating, refusing to meet Alfyn's striking gaze. "I got it all from someone who won't be able to spend that money even if they want to," Therion said bluntly, hoping that conveyed the message for him. He took another bite of the meat, and he had to admit that he hadn't enjoyed food this good in quite some time. Stillsnow made surprisingly good bear meat, though he supposed that was a given since the snowy areas of Orsterra were practically infested with the damn beasts. 

"Rufus," Alfyn concluded a moment later as he sat down on the bed that he was using. He was quiet before he looked to Therion. "What are you plannin' on doing with all that? Surely you can't mean to spend all those leaves on your own."

"Travel funds," Therion told him simply. "We're going to need them when we get to Noblecourt. Inns there are expensive, and unless we want to sleep in the streets, we're going to need a lot of this. Anything that we don't wind up using in Noblecourt can fund whatever we do after that." He knew what was coming after the fact; they were going to be heading to Goldshore, a place that was so far away from Noblecourt that they were bound to be walking for days. In other words, they were going to be putting this gold to good use getting travel supplies for their journey to the faraway coastal town. 

Alfyn simply nodded to himself. "Is that all that Rufus had in his vaults? I woulda expected someone like him to have way more than this," he commented. He began to remove items from his satchel, and Therion realized that Alfyn had just gone on a shopping trip, no doubt doing what he could to replenish his supplies before they went back on the road. 

Therion was silent at that, unsure of how much information he wished to give up to Alfyn. It wasn't as if he expected the apothecary to use it against him or anything, but he was fully aware of the fact that Alfyn's lips were on the looser side. He knew how to handle himself most of the time, but he could get to be a bit clumsy when it came to speaking with others every once in a while. 

Instead, Therion opted to go for something a bit less blatant. "I put it to good use," he said simply. He went back to eating from there, making it clear in his expression and posture that he wasn't going to be yielding any other details to Alfyn from here on. He took another bite of his meat, chewing it contemplatively in a way that he hoped would give Alfyn the impression that the conversation was over. 

Alfyn studied Therion for a long moment before he shrugged, seemingly figuring out that this was going at Therion's pace no matter what he tried to do to breach the subject further. "Alright then," was all Alfyn said, and those two words punctuated the end of the conversation. Alfyn began to sort through the items that he had picked up while shopping in town, and Therion took to organizing the leaves as soon as he had wiped his hands free of crumbs casually. 

Therion's mind was ruthlessly full as he worked on sorting the leaves into piles. He had already done more than enough for the women living in the dormitories, offering them everything that they could need to get by for at least the next two months. He had run into Arianna on the way out, and she gave him a quizzical look but didn't ask any questions. Therion knew that she had picked up on the idea that it was best to stay quiet than speak out in that situation, and he was relieved to know that she had a good head on her shoulders. Then again, that was a given since she had survived so long under Rufus' oppressive actions. 

All of this had been because of a quiet sentimentality that Therion hadn't been able to let go of after all these years. He had learned ages ago that connection with others was weakness, something that had been rammed into his skull as a series of rocks on a cliffside. And yet, his memory continued to stray back to the days when he was still able to trust people. They had been limited and many years ago, yes, but the remembrances still approached him in spite of all that he knew he should be doing instead of getting caught up in reminiscence. 

Therion took a long swig from his canteen and walked for the door. He was tired of thinking about all this crap. He was tired from dealing with Rufus and the mess that he had left behind by daring to exist in anyone's general vicinity. The best way that Therion knew of to numb his thoughts was to get a drink at the tavern, and that was exactly what he needed. He had never been able to get drunk, but it would do something to keep him from thinking any more than necessary, and that was something that he was going to have to take advantage of as long as he could. He sure as hell wouldn't have it when they were on the road. 

Damn it, Rufus... Burn in hell, bastard. 

Chapter Text

The path was a natural one for Ophilia to follow as she made her way back to the Shrine of the Flamebearer. The name stuck out in her mind easily, and she knew that it was the place that she was going to be able to find Aelfric. More importantly, it was going to be the place where she could get some answers. 

The door to the shrine opened up without a moment of hesitation as soon as it sensed the Ember was nearby, and Ophilia stepped inside bravely. She steeled herself and walked inside, white flames starting to light up and spread throughout the area to light her way. She continued to line the path that led up to the pedestal at the far edge of the area, reaching out one hand when she grew near the carving of the crystal. She looked down at the Ember one last time before touching it, and her vision went white as the environment around her shifted. 

Ophilia figured that she had retreated into some space within her mind when she next opened her eyes and saw the same battlefield that she had witnessed when she and the others in her party fought against Aelfric before they arrived in Stillsnow. She glanced around the area carefully, knowing that the goddess was somewhere nearby but unsure of where she was hiding. "Aelfric?" Ophilia eventually asked, her voice echoing throughout the cold chamber. Her breath fogged up in front of her mouth even though she knew that she was no longer in the world of the physical. 

Aelfric was assembled through the power of the air itself, light fog condensing itself into a mist before solidifying into the familiar figure of the goddess. Everything about her was just as graceful as it had been the last time that Ophilia saw her, and she glanced down at the cleric before her. When standing before Aelfric, Ophilia couldn't help but feel remarkably small. "Is there something thou requires?" Aelfric questioned, her voice so delicate and perfect that it didn't even seem right on Ophilia's ears. 

The cleric nodded as she glanced down to the Ember where it rested in the Lanthorn. After a moment, she steeled her resolve and looked up to make eye contact with the goddess, something in her starting to shudder. She knew that Aelfric wasn't going to do anything to hurt her, but she still figured that it would be better safe than sorry when she was anxious about the situation enough as it was. "I... I want to know as much as you're willing to tell me," Ophilia replied. "Do... Do you always speak to the Flamebearers? Am I... Am I something special?" Ophilia couldn't tell which answer would be worse; either way, she was admitting that she was hearing the voice of a goddess in her head and had been ever since she first picked up the Lanthorn with the Ember inside back in Flamesgrace. 

Aelfric didn't flinch in the face of Ophilia's questions, her gaze seemingly shifting away from the cleric before her even though her eyes were completely obscured from view. "Thou art... A special case," Aelfric finally said after a pause that seemed to last a century. "Dark times surrounden us all. There is a disturbing power seeking to breaken free, and thou... Thou is the one who bears the Sacred Flame in a time of great need."

"What's going on?" Ophilia questioned, something dry mounting at the back of her throat. She didn't know what Aelfric was talking about when it came to something dark starting to break free of its confines, but she was sure that there was more to this story than met the eye. Her heart began to pound in her chest, and Ophilia couldn't even bring it to stop despite the fact that it was almost completely stopping her from being able to hear what Aelfric was saying. 

"There is something dark on the horizon. It rests in wait for the time to strike, and thou art acting to keep it at bay," Aelfric said, taking a small step toward Ophilia. "The Ember is the primary defense against the powers of darkness."

"I know," Ophilia replied with a nod to herself. It was something that everyone knew; when Aelfric had first brought the Sacred Flame into existence, it had been because she was trying to stop something dark and terrifying. A dark god was sealed away, and the light of the Sacred Flame was the best way to keep the beast at bay. Ophilia didn't know what the creature was specifically, but she could tell that it was nothing good. The situation at hand, the one that Aelfric seemed to be so nervous about, couldn't have been any better, and that only made Ophilia feel worse about the whole situation. 

"Thou and your companions... I can sensen great powere between you all," Aelfric said next, clearly choosing her words carefully as she continued. "If any amongst us may find the strength to fell this dark beast... I have faith that it willen be you. Thou art a fine leader, Ophilia; thou simply must take up the duty that has been placed before thou."

Ophilia shook her head, something in the back of her mind starting to shake with anxiety. "This... This is a mistake," she murmured under her breath. How could it not be? Ophilia wasn't even the one meant to take the journey of the Flamebringer. She was meant to stay in Flamesgrace and look after the people there, but since Lianna had been unable to carry out the journey, it fell to Ophilia. 

"I knew what I was doing when I selected thou, Ophilia," Aelfric assured her, reaching out and placing one hand on Ophilia's cheek. The touch was delicate and gentle like the way a mother would comfort a child. "I knowen that I made the right decision."

"Selected me?" Ophilia echoed, her mind starting to race. "Did... Did you know that something was going to happen with this dark beast that you mentioned earlier? Was I... Was I always supposed to be the Flamebearer?"

"In a village of people who were murdered by the horrors of war, thou survived. I helped thou to finden the light and endure," Aelfric told her. "Thou was always meant to goen on the journey of the Flamebringer. Thou art my successor, Ophilia... That is the choice that I have made."

Ophilia's heart only began to pound louder, and she resisted the urge to hide in a corner somewhere and wait for all of this to make sense. Unfortunately, she knew that it wasn't going to be that easy, so she instead looked up to Aelfric. "What about Lianna? She was the one who was supposed to do this. I stepped up as a replacement, but this wasn't a job that I was meant to take on," she said, though she was more trying to convince herself than anything else. She could tell what Aelfric was going to say already, and Ophilia hated it before the words could even be spoken. 

"There aren those who wish to interfere with the tides of fate... Those who acten against what I did alongside my comrades so many years ago," Aelfric said next. "There aren those who were chosen to combat this shadow as well... Thou art the one I selected, Ophilia. Lianna has her own role to play in the events due to transpire."

"Then... You knew that I was going to end up as the Flamebringer?" Ophilia questioned, her voice faint and soft. "You... You knew that my father was going to get sick?" Her heart grew tense at those words, and Ophilia felt like the ground was being stolen out from beneath her feet with no chance for her to find stability once more. 

"I was unaware of your father's ailment," Aelfric corrected. "I knewe that some twist of fate would leaden to thou taking up the mantle of the Flamebringer. Dark forces aren at play, Ophilia. Thou was chosen to lead the children of the gods in the journey to returnen light to Orsterra."

"The children of the gods?" Ophilia inquired. She still knew that she was going to need time to process all of this, but that phrase in particular struck her strangely. 

"Thou companions," Aelfric responded simply. "The gods selected you all to carryen out a most solemn mission. Thou received my blessing of power because of such a status. My godly comrades will providen much the same gift when thou encountereth them."

Ophilia nodded to herself. "So... We're here to carry on some unknown destiny and to defeat a foe of darkness that is threatening all of Orsterra?" she questioned. Aelfric nodded. "Is... Is there anything else that I should know before I return to them?"

Aelfric took another step closer to Ophilia, and before the cleric knew it, she felt something foreign slide between her fingers. She glanced down to see the staff that Aelfric had been using during the battle pressed inside of her hand. Aelfric had given it to her, but Ophilia couldn't bring herself to believe it, instead doing nothing but staring down at the weapon in her hand. "Taken this," Aelfric said softly. "The powers of the darkness are strong. If thou wishes to defeat it, then thou must possess the same strength that once defeated it. My weapon is the Illumination Staff. Utilize the strength of its element and push forward until thou grasps victory."

"I can't take this," Ophilia told Aelfric quickly. "This is a sacred weapon that you used in a war long ago, and I..." She trailed off, not sure as to how she was meant to finish such a sentence. Aelfric had told her that she was a chosen one under the influence of the gods, one of the children slated for a destiny involved with saving Orsterra from the power of darkness. That qualification alone should make her worthy of wielding such a weapon, but Ophilia's low self-esteem was starting to rear its head and bite at her insides all over again. Her stomach churned with unspoken concern and guilt. She wasn't sure what she had to feel guilty for, but Ophilia was sure that her very existence, a source of concern for so long, was no doubt the culprit once again. 

"Considere it a gift," Aelfric instructed of her, closing Ophilia's fingers around the hilt of the staff. As soon as Aelfric did such a thing, Ophilia felt strength flood through her body, like every nerve was standing to attention, ready to fight back in the face of whatever was slated to come next. She let out a small gasp, and Ophilia could have sworn that her hair began to blow in some invisible breeze. 

Ophilia didn't have the chance to speak again before Aelfric offered her a gentle smile. "Until we meet again, Ophilia." 

A moment later, the entire shrine was overwhelmed with light that threatened to swallow everything. Ophilia pressed her eyes closed, and when she came back to grips with the world around her, she was back in the shrine proper, one hand poised forward and resting on the crystal carving that she had touched before being transported to the world of her mind. Ophilia pulled her hand back slowly, still trying to process if what she had experienced truly was real. 

Her doubts were ultimately laid to rest when she glanced down. Her left hand had been holding tightly to the Lanthorn since she reached out for the crystal carving, but all of a sudden, the handle of the lantern was not the only thing between her fingers. The Illumination Staff was there as well in all of its resplendent glory. It took Ophilia a moment to catch up with all that had taken place, and she took int eh beauty of the staff in full. It was a silver color, a white gemstone attached to the top. It appeared to be a diamond of some kind, catching the light in a way that reflected illumination in every direction. Everything about the staff was so perfect that Ophilia didn't think she had the words to describe the situation, so she instead opted to stare at the ornate carvings of the staff for a long moment as she did her best to catch up with all that she had just experienced. It felt like her mind and body were out of pace with one another, both racing all too quickly but all too slowly at the same time. Ophilia herself was left suspended in the middle, shock still painted on her face and forcing her breaths into something ragged. 

Ophilia let out a heavy sigh as she continued to examine the staff, doing her best to recap all that she had heard from Aelfric. No, most Flamebringers did not hear the voice of Aelfric when they claimed the Ember. There was something dark working in the shadows of Orsterra, and the hidden forces were trying to bring a horrible catastrophe upon the land. Aelfric knew that Ophilia was going to wind up as the Flamebringer and even selected her to take up this position at the apex of fate. Ophilia assumed that her meeting the other travelers was hardly a matter of luck the way that she had originally expected; if she hadn't run into them on accident, then she would have been led to them by the voice of Aelfric that pushed her to search for Therion and H'aanit. They were set to keep Orsterra from slipping into apocalypse, but they were only able to accomplish such a thing as long as they were together. 

Perhaps the most shocking revelation from the conversation came in the form of what Aelfric had told Ophilia regarding her past. Ophilia had been the sole survivor of the attack on the village of Creek, something she had been aware of for years. She was lucky enough to remain hidden from the soldiers that passed through her hometown in their bloody path of conquest, and from there, she was found by Josef and brought to Flamesgrace. All of this was common knowledge, but significantly less simple information came in the form of what Aelfric had told her. The goddess herself had ensured that Ophilia would survive the onslaught and endure in the face of such horrors. Aelfric had selected her as the Flamebringer long before the attack of Creek, and she had offered a small dose of divine intervention to ensure that Ophilia escaped with her life long enough to become the proxy of destiny the way that Aelfric had planned. 

Ophilia let out a shaky breath, surprised by the way that her entire body seemed to rattle with the motion. This wasn't an ordinary Kindling; she was part of something much larger than herself, and she wasn't going to be able to escape it. This new knowledge was something grand, and yet, Ophilia found herself at a loss for words. She was meant to be part of a group that defeated an unknown darkness. The gods had planned for her to cross paths with the other seven members of her party, and they were intended to work together until they saw the end of this long, bloody path. It had never been a matter of chance, and somehow, that was one of the most terrifying parts. The entire conversation had struck Ophilia to the core, but something about that information left her with a shiver on her spine, and it had nothing to do with the cold air of the Frostlands around her. 

Ophilia was hesitant when she began to walk in the direction of the entrance of the shrine. She knew that Aelfric had told her more than enough given how clueless she had been before, but Ophilia's mind was still racing with all of the new revelations streaking through her head. She hadn't thought it possible to be so surprised from so many facts simultaneously, but it seemed as if Aelfric was full of surprises. So was Ophilia, it seemed; she now held the title of being a chosen warrior at Aelfric's actions. Then again, she supposed that she had always possessed this title; she was only just being made aware of it in present moments. 

The shrine opened for her easily, and Ophilia let out a sigh as she looked out into the Frostland plains ahead of her. She turned around one more time to see the heart of the shrine, the white flames flickering around it. She glanced down to stare at the staff in her hand from there, seeing the way it gleamed silver around the white gemstone at the top. She could tell that this was going to be her new weapon from that point forward. There was simply too much in terms of raw strength provided by the Illumination Staff, and she knew that her staff from Flamesgrace would never be able to compete. It was ironic, in a way; she was finally accepting her job as a chosen of the gods by taking up the staff. It hadn't been much of a choice in the first place though, she supposed. She had heard the truth and simply accepted it, knowing that she didn't have any other options. 

Ophilia stepped out into the snow from there, the shrine's doors falling shut behind her. The white flames flickered before dissipating entirely, but the memory and echo of Ophilia's presence remained even long after she was gone. She continued to make her way through the snow back to Stillsnow, Aelfric's words ringing in her mind eternally. She didn't think she was ever going to be able to forget everything that she had just been told. 

Then again, she doubted that she would be able to forget any of her journey by the time it was finished it truly was set to be as grand as Aelfric implied. She would simply have to see what that meant for better or worse. 

~~~~~

Ophilia didn't have the chance to speak with anyone after she returned to the town. Most of the other travelers had eaten around Stillsnow in between shopping trips to gather their last-minute supplies for the hike to Noblecourt the following day. Ophilia sighed as she arrived back in her room. She wasn't in much of a mood to eat given all that she had just learned, but she pushed down a few pieces of fruit regardless. She would only make herself miserable if she didn't eat and wound up waking up in the middle of the night because of her hunger, so she decided to resolve the issue preemptively instead. 

Tressa was already sound asleep when Ophilia arrived, though there was something left behind on Ophilia's bed that seemed to have been set there by the merchant. Ophilia frowned as she reached down to pick up a small piece of paper. She would recognize Tressa's familiar scrawl anywhere, and she read the note from the younger girl to herself in the silence: 

'I'm not sure where you went off to, but we're ready to go out to Noblecourt. I know that you can take care of yourself though. I hope that you were able to find something nice while you were wandering around. Sorry I was too tired to wait for you. I'll catch you up on everything you missed in the morning. Sleep well, Phili!

Signed, 

Tressa'

Ophilia smiled to herself at Tressa's words, and she found her mind repeating the sentences over in Tressa's particular voice and cadence. She let out a small sigh as she set the note off to the side, wondering just how much she could have possibly missed out on. She hoped that she hadn't worried any of the other members of the group too much with her outing; her conversation with Aelfric had lasted much longer than she could have expected. She was sure that she would be back in time to share an evening meal with her companions, but instead, she was coming back what seemed to be hours after they had gone to sleep. It seemed everyone truly had been left exhausted as a result of their battle against Rufus. 

Ophilia laid her head down on the pillow, and as soon as she did, she felt the exhaustion slam into her full force too. She realized just why everyone had gone to sleep so early; all it took was the temptation of sleep for her to be lured away to the land of dreams. Ophilia barely managed to set the Lanthorn and the Illumination Staff down on the table beside her before her eyes slipped shut. She fumbled for her bag before correcting herself and placing the staff inside, not wanting the rest of the group to see it until she was ready to explain all that she had learned from Aelfric. They would no doubt be confused if they saw a mysterious staff at her bedside without any further context. 

However, that was the last thing Ophilia was able to bring herself to do before she fully drifted off to sleep. When she did finally reach the land of dreams, she was met with images that reminded her of her conversation with Aelfric. She would never be able to forget all that she had learned from the goddess that day, not that Ophilia could have expected anything else. 

After all, this was already shaping up to be the journey of a lifetime, and she was bound to recall each and every part by the time they had reached the end of their quest. 

~~~~~

Primrose didn't realize how late it was until after she woke up the next morning, the sunlight streaming in through her window. It was still quite a few hours before midday, but given how Primrose had leaned toward being an early riser when she was allowed to dictate her own schedule, it was strange that it took her so long to awaken. Then again, she supposed that all of them had been left exhausted after the battle the day before. Rufus had drained much of their energy, so it was only natural that they needed to catch up before they were able to set out for Noblecourt. 

Primrose consolidated her belongings as much as possible before she left to eat breakfast. Everyone else was already there, and they were doing what they could to eat quickly while still finding the space and skill to put away leftovers in case they were necessary for the next leg of their journey. Primrose found herself beside H'aanit, and the huntress was silent throughout the meal. Still, Primrose could feel something like camaraderie between them, and she felt herself smile gently behind her cup when she raised it to her lips for a drink. 

The rest of the process of consolidating their items down for the trip ahead seemed to pass by in the blink of an eye. Before Primrose knew it, she was giving the Stillsnow inn room she and H'aanit had shared for the last few days one final glance. H'aanit had already swept the area free of all lingering hair from Linde and Hägen, and it looked as if they had never even stayed there at all. Primrose knew that was part of the point, but it still left her swallowing dryly as she turned and made her way toward the door of the room. 

When Primrose arrived out in the wintry air once again, she found that the wind touched her face gently. It wasn't snowing for once, and Primrose couldn't help but feel that this was as good of weather as they were going to get when it came to starting their journey. She brushed some stray pieces of hair away from her face before she started to walk toward the town's boundary with the others hot on her trail. 

Primrose hadn't made it far when she heard someone running up behind her. She stopped in her movements immediately, knowing who it was before she even felt the need to turn. Hearing Arianna's voice a moment later only confirmed it. "Lady Primrose... So it is as I thought," she said, her eyes falling shut. "You have sworn yourself to avenging Lord Geoffrey."

Primrose looked down, still not turning to face Arianna. "I have," she murmured quietly. 

Arianna took a step toward her. "With the master dead, I am free now..." She paused for a long moment, seemingly fumbling for the words that would be best to speak from there. "You have my gratitude, my lady." Primrose didn't see it, but Arianna glanced past the brown-haired dancer briefly, her gaze falling on Therion. The thief didn't respond to her openly, instead simply turning away from her a bit more. Primrose hadn't even realized that Therion was listening to the conversation until he shifted his attention forward and took a bite of an apple he had snagged during their morning meal. Therion seemed to know that Arianna was also thanking him for his kind actions the day before, having figured out who was responsible, but Therion refused to yield any information on the matter. Alfyn refused to look at Arianna as well, instead focusing his attention primarily on the thief at his side. 

Primrose wasn't sure how long she was silent, simply staring down at the snow in front of her feet and wondering what she was supposed to do from there. However, the quiet was inevitably shattered when Arianna spoke once again. "'Faith shall be your shield.'"

Primrose was still silent when Arianna took another step forward and put her hand on the dancer's shoulder gently, the gesture as comforting as it was cautious. "Lady Primrose, what do you have faith in?" Arianna questioned, her mind clearly being cast to the conversation in the carriage to the Obsidian Parlor from the day before. 

For a long time, Primrose struggled to find the words that would answer the question. She didn't think that she even had a proper response to it, and when she did finally speak, it barely shocked her when she was uncertain as could be. "I wish I knew," she finally forced herself to say. Something in the back of Primrose's mind wondered if she would ever know. She had been pushing herself forward with this perfect ideal of killing her father's killers for as long as she could remember, but when that was taken away, she didn't know what she was doing. She had held tightly to that concept because she didn't have anything else to cling to. It had been her lifeline, and yet, it was not her salvation. 

Primrose's fingers reached for her dagger, and she pulled the knife free of its sheath and braced it between her hands carefully. She pretended that her fingers weren't trembling as she examined it. "Dagger in hand, I have asked myself the question time and time again," she admitted softly. "What do I believe in? What path should I tread? Over and over, I asked myself..."

Arianna was quiet when Primrose let out a sigh. "But every time, this silent dagger is the only answer left in my hands," she murmured. "To avenge Father... That is all I have--my only reason to live. That is what I believe in--and I have faith that I will see it done." She tucked her dagger back in its sheath and took a few steps forward before she raised her head at long last. "Farewell, Arianna."

Primrose and the other members of the group continued pressing onward from there, leaving Arianna standing silently at the entrance of the town. Soon enough, Stillsnow was little more than a faded memory of something wretched, and even though change was on the horizon for both the town and its people, Primrose couldn't help but feel something akin to soft bitterness at the fact that something of that nature had existed at all. Even without knowing her name, Rufus had caused her so much pain, and he had died finally understanding a fraction of what she had been through. 

But was that what she believed in? Primrose didn't know. Her only reason for pressing forward, her only reason for having hope, for so many years was to push on and avenge her father. She thought that would satisfy the emptiness deep inside of her, but in the end, it hadn't done anything to fill the gap that his death left behind. Primrose had been hoping for so long that she would find peace when the crows were gone, and yet, she still knew that she was nowhere close to it. She should have been at least somewhat nearer to the salvation that she had been searching for all those years, and yet, she was just as distant and afraid as she always had been. 

Primrose's eyes moved up to the travelers in front of her. They were chattering with one another as they looked down at the map braced between Tressa's hands, marking the path to Noblecourt so that they would be able to accomplish the next step of their journey. She smiled to herself when she heard the jubilation in their voices, and something inside of her swelled with a sense of rising joy that she hadn't felt in what felt like an eternity. 

Primrose didn't know what she was able to believe in, but she was confident that she could at least have faith that this was where she was happy. There was a lot that she had yet to understand, but for the time being, she was content. If nothing else, she was going to do what she could to defend those that she had come to care for. 

It wasn't a lot, but for the moment, it was enough, and the sight of her friends made the hole inside of Primrose's chest finally start to heal. 

Chapter Text

The continuation of the group's journey brought them to the edge of the Frostlands where the blankets of snow gave way to endless stretches of plains. Green hills gently rolled in tandem with one another, creating a picturesque horizon that Tressa decided to commit to memory to the best of her ability. She had a pen in one hand and her journal in the other, jotting down all the details of the journey that she could remember. She didn't have a way of reading the minds of the other members of the party, but Tressa was sure that she had managed to get a fine enough grasp on the situations at hand to write everything she had to. 

It had been about an hour and a half since they left Stillsnow behind, and Alfyn had taken to leading the group with the map in hand. Tressa glanced up to see that Alfyn was confidently in front of the rest of the group, though Tressa could tell he was watching the map much more closely than he should have been. She couldn't help chuckling to herself; it seemed as if the apothecary's sense of direction was lacking. He was fully aware of this truth too, and he wasn't bothering to push back against what he knew to be the truth. 

Tressa jotted down a few extra details about the landscape before drawing out a small sketch of it. When she was satisfied with her admittedly pathetic artistic interpretation of the horizon, she nodded to herself and tucked both her pen and journal back into their home within her bag. She pressed her hands against the straps of the bag a moment later, letting out a grin as she continued to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other the way all great adventurers did. 

The members of the party had been rather quiet since setting out from Stillsnow, Tressa had noticed. Primrose still had a lot on her mind, and Ophilia appeared to fall into much the same category. Therion had been acting off ever since he retrieved money for them from the mansion of Rufus, and while nobody had said anything about it, Tressa knew that they were all grateful. It wasn't as if Rufus was around to spend the gold anymore, and if they were able to put it to good use, then so be it. Therion had left behind more than enough for the people of Stillsnow to work toward the town's restoration as well. Alfyn had told Tressa as much during their breakfast meeting, and Tressa had been left to smile to herself at the thought that perhaps Therion wasn't as prickly as he appeared to be on the surface. 

Olberic and H'aanit were just as quiet as always, the latter followed by both Linde and Hägen. They had been great help over the course of the last battle, and Tressa had to admit that she was glad both animals had decided to join them on the quest. Granted, Linde and Hägen went wherever H'aanit did, but Tressa was still happy they were there. It didn't hurt that they were cute, cuddly animals who she could pet whenever she grew stressed. 

Cyrus had one hand pressed against his chin, making it clear as could be that he was lost in thought. Alfyn slowed down when he peeked over his shoulder at the other members of the group, his footsteps falling into pace with Cyrus. "Leaf for your thought?" Alfyn questioned with a light smile on his face. Everything about him was personable and friendly, the perfect way to make anyone open up to him. 

Cyrus perked up upon being addressed and glanced in Alfyn's direction. After a moment, he allowed his hand to fall to his side. "I was wondering about the shrine of Aelfric we encountered before entering Stillsnow," he began. "I have heard tales of the other gods possessing similar shrines, and I was hoping that perhaps we would run into one of them sooner or later."

"That does sound like it would help us out, huh?" Alfyn agreed with a light nod. "I know that the power Aelfric gave us has already proven to be a big help. If we can get the other gods on our side, then that would only make things easier for us in the long run."

"You two are awfully casual about the idea of getting a god to help us with defeating the enemies we're going to encounter on our respective journeys," Tressa remarked as she sped up before falling into pace with the two men. "I didn't believe that we were going to be able to actually get a blessing from the gods until we were there in the shrine."

"Have you ever prayed to the gods, Tress?" Alfyn questioned, glancing in her direction as he raised one eyebrow in curiosity. 

Tressa nodded. "Lots of people in the Coastlands offer prayers to Bifelgan. She's said to offer the people good fortune when she finds them to be favorable, so lots of people hope that they can get her blessing. Of course, I suppose it's a bit hard to know when you have gotten the power of a god on your side. I doubt it's always as obvious as what happened with Aelfric. Suddenly figuring out how to use light magic really does make itself clear, though nothing else is quite so obvious." She let out a small chuckle at her words before shaking her head. 

"I've always prayed to the gods. I guess it's a matter of environment, huh? Clearbrook's a pretty religious town. Everyone believes in one of the gods and thinks of them as a patron," Alfyn explained. "H'aanit probably prays to Draefendi. The goddess of the hunt seems to be pretty influential in S'warkii culture based on what we saw while we were in town. Ophilia's obviously religious given that she's going on this journey as part of the Kindling in the first place, but I don't think Therion has much interest in it." Alfyn nudged Cyrus in the side with his elbow. "How about you, Cy? Do you have any thoughts on the gods?"

Cyrus paused in deliberation before his expression slipped into a light smile. "I would hardly consider myself the most religious person, but the matter most certainly does intrigue me," he responded. "The past of Orsterra hides such a rich history, and the gods were at the center of it for generations. I find it interesting to read into the world they dreamed of and what they left behind for us. I do not pray as most people do, but I do find the subject to be interesting."

"That makes sense. I guess you've got a lot to take into account on the matter of academics. That is kind of your job, after all," Alfyn commented with a small smile. "I don't think Prim's the most religious person out there, but it wouldn't surprise me if Olberic was involved with something like that. He's kinda hard to read, but I can tell that he's got good intentions."

Cyrus nodded his agreement as Tressa looked up to the oldest member of their trio. "Do you think we're going to run into another shrine that could help us to learn more about the gods and their powers?" she asked. "You've been thinking about it for a while, so you probably have the best idea of it."

"I cannot say for sure, but it would make quite a bit of sense if there was a shrine in this area," Cyrus replied. "We can keep our eyes open and see if anything strikes us as being out of the ordinary. Perhaps the Ember will be able to guide us if we draw near to a shrine on our way to Noblecourt."

Tressa nodded and looked out at the rest of the world, a light frown on her face. She hoped that they were able to find another shrine as soon as possible, truth be told; the powers that Aelfric had provided were already proving themselves to be incredible, and if there was a way for that strength to be boosted once again, she was all in for it. She was still getting a hold of her light magic and the healing powers that came with it, but when she tried it out on her own after the battle, she found that it worked rather effectively. Aelfric seemingly helped everyone to understand how to master the skills she had provided as well, cutting out the need for practice before it could even be asked for. 

Tressa didn't know what they could be looking forward to in terms of help from the other gods, truth be told. The gods, for all the part they had in influencing the religion of Orsterra, worked in mysterious ways that nobody truly understood. She supposed that was part of the point behind everything since they were meant to be distant figures that guided the people of Orsterra from afar, but she still found herself wondering if she would be able to learn anything else along the way. 

Tressa hadn't ever taken that large of an interest in religion before the journey began, but once it entered her head, she couldn't seem to get it out. Her brain was asking her a thousand different questions about what the gods could have been up to in that moment even though it knew that she wouldn't be able to provide any answers. They had been lucky enough to stumble upon Aelfric's shrine as it was, and while Tressa knew realistically that they weren't going to be able to rely on chance like that again, she found herself optimistic regardless, hoping that things worked out one way or another in her favor. 

Alfyn began to slow down in his walking at the front of the group, one head turning over his shoulder to look at where Ophilia was standing away from the others in the party. Ophilia, normally all too happy to join discussions about their journey at hand, had distanced herself ever since they set off from Stillsnow. In fact, Tressa had noticed that she had been acting strangely seemingly ever since the afternoon of their last day in the town. Ophilia had set out to do something the same way that everyone else in the group decided to handle their own individual business, and when she came back, she was lost in thought over some subject or another that Tressa couldn't seem to press out of her. She had tried, but Ophilia was resistant to answering her inquiries, instead concentrating on avoiding the question in some way or another. All of Tressa's questions at breakfast had ultimately been glossed over because Ophilia was refusing to take any questions seriously, too unfocused for some reason or another to bother. 

The look in Alfyn's eyes made it clear to Tressa that Ophilia wasn't going to be able to hide it for much longer than she already had. "Hey, Phili, what's on your mind?" Alfyn questioned, the map still pressed tightly between his fingers. 

Ophilia snapped back to reality as soon as she realized she was being addressed, her eyes wide until she forced herself to become grounded in the face of everything around her. "Huh?" she asked before getting a grip on what was happening a moment later. "Is something the matter, Alfyn?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Alfyn responded simply. "You've been acting kinda odd all day. If there's something on your mind, you know that you can talk to us, right? There's no reason to keep everything bottled up inside as long as there are people here to help you through a tough spot." Everything in his gaze was genuine, and Tressa could tell that Ophilia wasn't going to survive long under the piercing yet concerned stare that Alfyn was giving her. 

Sure enough, Ophilia let out a sigh a moment later, one hand drifting to the inside of her bag. Her fingers seemed to close around something, and when she shook her head, everything about her grew tense. "I... There's something I need to tell all of you," Ophilia told him carefully, each word deliberately thought out before it was spoken. She was still uncertain even if she was trying to seem stable and confident. Her show wasn't fooling anyone though, and the concerned eyes on her proved that perfectly. 

Ophilia let out a cautious breath before she glanced up to the others in the group. "I went back to Aelfric's shrine last night," she began simply. 

"You returned without us?" Olberic asked, his eyes going wide. He didn't seem to be offended, but he was most certainly concerned, no doubt because Ophilia had gone into the wilds near Stillsnow by herself when everyone knew just how thick they were with beasts and wildlife. 

Ophilia hesitated before nodding. "I just had a few questions for Aelfric, and I wanted to get answers while we were in the area. I went by myself since all of you were occupied with other matters, and... I did get a few of the answers I was looking for," she said. She still seemed to be unsure as to if telling the other members of the group was the best option though, shifting uncomfortably on the spot as her grip tightened on the object in her bag. 

"What are you holding onto there?" Primrose questioned, gesturing with one hand to the bag. Primrose had been acting somewhat distant ever since they defeated Rufus, but Tressa knew she was going to come around soon enough. Arguably, Primrose already was starting to come around given the fact that she was expressing such blatant concern for Ophilia's wellbeing. 

Ophilia was silent for a long moment, refusing to meet eyes with anyone before she let out another sigh. She didn't say anything as she pulled the object of her attention free of her bag, and the Illumination Staff was left in full view of every member of the group. Tressa thought her eyes were bulging out of her skull in her moment of shock, and all she could do for a long moment was stare. She was just lucky that her legs continued to cooperate in letting her walk closer to their destination. 

Even Therion, in all his normal stoic detachment, was left surprised at the sight. "That's..." he whispered, struggling to get out much else. 

"Aelfric's staff!" Cyrus finished for him, dashing to Ophilia's side to examine it. Ophilia didn't give it to him, but she did hold it up for him to look at it. Cyrus' gaze traveled over every segment of the weapon, seemingly committing its intricacies to memory. After a long moment of silent observation, he nodded to himself. "Incredible..."

"Aelfric claimed that there's something else out there," Ophilia said next. She swallowed dryly as she continued. "She... She said that we're supposed to be stopping some power of darkness that's threatening all of Orsterra. She was so confident that we were meant to be on this journey together, and she... She made sure that we would all meet. She's been communicating with me through the Ember ever since I took up the position of Flamebearer. All of this was part of her grand plan." Her words were all thought out carefully, but nobody knew how to respond to them. Ophilia bit her lip and stared down at the ground. "She... She saved my life a long time ago. She's the reason I'm here today."

"Wait... What?" Tressa questioned, doing her best to come to terms with everything the cleric was saying. Realistically, she knew that Ophilia had no reason to lie to her or any other member of the group, but she found her mind racing regardless. 

Ophilia hesitated before sighing. "Aelfric claims that there's some other dark power on the horizon for Orsterra and that we... We were selected by the gods to fight against it. The Ember would have led me to most of you if we hadn't met by chance. As for Therion and H'aanit... The Ember did lead me to them. The reason that we changed course away from our original plan back in Clearbrook was because the Ember was guiding me in the direction of Therion and H'aanit. Aelfric wanted us all to be together, and she pushed me so that I would make sure we all met," she explained. 

"Wow..." Tressa murmured, uncertain as to what else she could even say on the matter. She glanced up to meet Ophilia's gaze a moment later. "Did she happen to say anything about what we're supposed to be fighting against? I think that's pretty important information to keep in mind if this is really our destiny or something like that."

Ophilia shook her head. "Aelfric herself didn't even seem sure of what was happening... But she seemed to think that we could look forward to speaking with the other gods in the future. She gave me the Illumination Staff because she thought it would help me on the journey to come," she explained. "I didn't know how to explain it before now, but... I guess I don't really have much of a way to avoid the subject now. I'm going to be using it in battle from now on... It feels so much more powerful than anything I've ever seen in the past."

"I can only imagine... The weapon of a god has to have a lot of strength behind it," Primrose murmured with a light shake of her head. "As far as I'm concerned though, we shouldn't focus too much on this journey to save the world from an unknown dark force at the moment."

"Huh? Why not?" Alfyn questioned, his eyes going wide. "I would have thought we were meant to take this as a hint to get us started in the right direction, and if that's the case, we had better start looking for clues."

"We don't have any ideas as to what's going on right now. If not even the gods are aware of what's happening, then I would say that we're just going to have to wait it out until some information does present itself," Primrose responded with a shake of her head. "Searching when we don't have any leads won't do us any good. We should keep on with our original missions and see if we can find anything that could lead us to the right path along the way. For now, all we would be doing is running around in circles."

"I believe that Primrose is right on this matter," Cyrus interjected. "In any situation, the gathering of information is crucial, and yet, we hardly have the options to do such a thing at this time. Our time would be best spent focusing on our current goals. We can see if there is anything unfortunate on the horizon for us when the time comes that clues present themselves to us."

"I guess we're all in agreement then," Olberic said simply. He was looking up at the horizon solemnly, seemingly believing the story Ophilia told without any need for further proof. Tressa supposed that made it clear where he stood on the matter of religion. He must have believed at least a bit in the gods if he was allowing himself to be drawn into such a tale. Then again, it wasn't as if they had a choice to begin with, right? If what Aelfric said was to be believed (and Tressa saw no reason for them to ignore her claims), then they were bound to be pulled into the grand adventure of saving the world sooner or later. That was simply how life was meant to turn out for all of them. 

"Might I asken... How did the goddess saven thy life?" H'aanit questioned, speaking up for the first time since the conversation had begun. Her gaze was curious yet shaded, and Tressa could tell that every member of the group was taking this information in their own ways. Therion, for example, was choosing to stay silent and simply stare at his feet, no doubt because he was afraid of what he might find if he opened himself up to believing what was happening around him. 

Ophilia hesitated before she glanced down to the staff once again. "I... I was born in a town within the Riverlands known as Creek. Long ago, it was destroyed in a bloody war between Quarrycrest and Saintsbridge. My entire village was destroyed, and I... I was left as the sole survivor of the attack. I always thought that it was simply a matter of my luck. Later on, I began to think that the gods had a part in it when I grew into religion, and... Speaking with Aelfric proved as much. By that point, she had already decided that I was set to be the next Flamebringer, and she made sure that I was able to survive long enough to carry out such a duty," she explained. "She didn't know what was going to happen, just that Lianna wouldn't be able to do it. Instead... I was brought to the mission, and now... Here I am."

"The gods seem to have been watching over our activities for quite some time then..." Cyrus murmured as he continued to examine the extravagant staff pressed between Ophilia's fingers. "I wonder just how great a role they have played in our stories up to this point..."

"I don't think that's a question that has an easy answer," Primrose frowned as she glanced up to the horizon ahead of them. "None of this has a simple solution, but for the time being, our best option is to keep moving and see what we can find at the heart of our current issues. Noblecourt is waiting for us, and I think it would be for the best that we eliminated our problems there as quickly as possible so that we can seek our next destination."

"Seconded," Therion said, his voice somewhat rougher than usual. Tressa turned her head over one shoulder to look at him and see if he was willing to show any signs of what he was thinking about. As was to be expected, he refused to offer her any information, instead remaining just as detached and stoic as always. There was something in his tone that had changed since Ophilia told her story though, and Tressa wondered if she would be able to press the information out of him later on when the shock wasn't quite so fresh in his mind. She doubted it given the way he had behaved up to that point, but she supposed it was worth an attempt if she was given the chance. 

Ophilia opened her mouth to respond when a gasp left her lips. She glanced down at the Ember that was hanging from her belt and pulled it free before raising it to eye level. The Ember was starting to pulse brightly, and Ophilia glanced to the other members of the group in shock. They all knew exactly what this had to mean. 

They were getting close to another shrine. 

"Well, it looks like it's time for us to beat the living snot out of a god again. Good to know that we'll have experienced that at least two times before we die," Therion cut in, his every word dripping with sarcastic. He started to walk in the direction that the Ember seemed to be pointing them in, Ophilia taking the lead with the Ember and Lanthorn outstretched in front of her. The others weren't far behind. 

Tressa couldn't stop smiling at the idea. "I can't believe that we're going to find another shrine around here!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together in glee. "I wonder which one it's going to be this time... I suppose only time will be able to tell."

"There has to be some way for us to gauge where these shrines are located," Primrose pointed out. "If there's a way for us to get answers behind that, then we'll be able to plan our route much better. That way, we won't have to count on luck and the Ember to take us where we need to be."

"I don't think Aelfric is going to let us pass by a shrine without saying something to make sure we're on the right path, but I do agree that it would be nice to be able to prepare for what's coming next," Ophilia said with a firm nod. "Perhaps we can look around in Noblecourt when we arrive... I seem to recall Noblecourt having quite the academic presence on the continental map. Surely there will be a few interesting documents for us to look through that might be able to lead us to the truth on the matter..."

The smile that spread across Cyrus' lips couldn't be understated, and Tressa glanced up to him knowingly, already fully aware that he was going to volunteer. "Upon our arrival, I shall do what I can to collect the information we need," he announced. "I do agree that there could very easily be something of note there. We won't ever know unless we choose to investigate, and while Therion is concentrating on the dragonstone, other members of our party can concentrate on the search."

"I don't know how well that's going to work out," Therion muttered with a frown. His face was obscured beneath his scarf, but Tressa could tell that he wasn't sure about Cyrus' suggestion. "As far as I can tell, we're going to have to deal with some pretty territorial people if we want to get the dragonstone back. Splitting up could be a bad idea."

"I can't believe you of all people is suggesting that we should stick together," Primrose commented, a light smirk playing at her lips as she glanced up to Therion. He simply rolled his eyes, and Primrose snickered from behind a raised hand. There was still some doubt and uncertainty behind her eyes from their time in Stillsnow, but she was taking steps in the right direction to improve after all that had taken place. As far as Tressa could tell, that was worth more than she could ever hope to articulate. 

Therion sighed and shook his head. "I'm just saying that if we split up, we might not be able to find the next shrine. We have no idea what's waiting for us in Noblecourt. That place does a better job of hiding it, but it's just as dangerous to be there as it is to be in Stillsnow. Just because it looks appealing on the surface doesn't mean it is. We're going to have to be careful while we're there to make sure it doesn't somehow screw up our plans," he declared. 

"I'm inclined to agree with Therion on this matter," Olberic interjected. "It would be for the best if we conquered one issue at a time to ensure that we are not overwhelmed. For the time being, we should focus on the shrine and getting to Noblecourt. We can come up with a concrete plan for our actions in town once we have arrived."

"Speaking of the shrine," Ophilia declared as she glanced back to the rest of the group. "I would say that we're here."

The Ember was pulsing brightly by this point, and Tressa agreed that it was safe enough to assume that they had arrived at their destination. Her eyes were wide as she took a step closer to the hill the shrine was carved into. She could feel something ancient beneath the surface, and she knew that this had to be the right place. Tressa was hardly the best when it came to magic (especially when compared to the likes of Ophilia and Cyrus), but she could still sense the energy sparking around in the hillside. No normal hill felt like it was alight with power, and that meant that they had definitely found the right place. 

Just to prove that they were in the correct location, the hillside began to groan with an ancient sense of exhaustion. The ground opened up on the side of the hill, and from there, the entrance to yet another shrine could be seen. It looked much like the shrine that had come into view inside the snowy hillside near Stillsnow, and Tressa found herself smiling quietly. Her adventurous spirit was only spreading, and she knew that this was going to lead to something great. 

Ophilia turned to the other members of the group, seemingly waiting for someone to offer the suggestion to go inside. H'aanit didn't wait for anyone to speak up though, instead choosing to walk in without a beat of hesitation. The shadows of the shrine closed in around her from there, but Tressa knew that there had to be firelight on the walls inside. The same had been true when it came to the previous shrine, and given how similar they were, it seemed like a given. The only unanswered question Tressa could think of prominently was to wonder which god was going to be meeting them at the end of the shrine's path, though she supposed that only time would be able to tell that much. 

The others had no doubt come to the same conclusion by this point. Ophilia nodded, letting out a stabilizing breath before she entered soon afterward, the Ember starting to flicker with even greater life as she did so. The others in the group followed suit with Tressa taking up the rear, a bright smile on her face. She didn't know what was going to be waiting for them inside, which god they were going to encounter, but she knew it was bound to be amazing. 

When they got to Noblecourt, she was going to have quite a bit to write in her journal. She could just sense it. 

Chapter Text

The inside of this shrine looked, for the most part, identical to the one that had housed the spirit of Aelfric. The primary difference that Cyrus noticed as they began their investigation was the fact that the flames dancing along the wall were not the same white color they had been in Aelfric's shrine. Instead, they were a blue color, standing out stark and bright against the shaded backdrop of the shrine. The flames cast everything in a gentle sapphire glow, and Cyrus found himself examining the rest of his team with curiosity in his eyes at the sight of all of them bathed in blue. 

Cyrus had come to study the gods quite a bit as part of his research into magic. Because of his profession, the subject of the arcane come up at every turn, and the gods were heavily linked with such concepts. The gods were associated with many different things in their own right, and Aelfric was notably said to have ties with the color white. That certainly explained the shade of the flames that had lit the walls in her shrine. Blue was another color linked to a different god, and if Cyrus' theories were correct, he already knew which one they were going to be meeting with. 

The end of the path brought the group to yet another podium sitting on a balcony over an endless void. The same railings as the previous shrine lined the area to make sure nobody tipped over into the darkness below. A small amount of natural sunshine gleamed upon the podium, yet another similarity between the two shrines. As far as Cyrus could tell, the shrines had largely the same physical appearances with a few differences, the flame color being the most notable of those he had already come to list. Another difference was location, though he supposed that made sense. Gathering the power of twelve immensely powerful beings in one place was bound to cause issues if the wrong person got their hands on such strength. 

The final difference that Cyrus could see though was the figure on the top of the podium. In Aelfric's shrine, there had been a set of crystals carved together and assembled with stone. In this situation, there was a rock carving of a book that sat open and simple on the pedestal. Cyrus nodded to himself at the sight; his initial assumptions as to which god this shrine belonged to had been correct. 

Cyrus glanced over to the Ember and saw that it was continuing to flicker brightly with the promise of something new. It was duller than it had been the last time though, likely because the Ember was most closely connected with Aelfric. This shrine appeared to be partnered with Alephan, the scholar god known for his mastery of the magical elements. He was strong with every power of the arcane, a terror on the battlefield with unparalleled magical prowess. Cyrus didn't pray to the gods of Orsterra often, but Alephan had come to be known as the benefactor god of Atlasdam. If he was going to ask for anything of the gods, he always chose to make Alephan the target of his discussions. 

"Well... We all know what happens next, right?" Alfyn questioned as he glanced to the rest of the group. He was reaching for his axe even though he knew that the battle that was bound to follow was only going to be taking place inside their minds. There was no need for physical weapons under such circumstances, but he was prepared as could be despite this. 

Cyrus nodded his agreement with Alfyn's inquiry, and he made sure that the others were as prepared as possible. He wondered distantly what power Alephan was going to be able to offer them, and with that, he found himself reaching out for the pedestal. His fingers graced the stone a moment later, and he was caught by surprise at just how gentle and perfect the rock felt. In fact, it didn't even feel real to Cyrus at a first touch. Then again, if any creature was going to be able to summon such power to deceive those who lived in reality, it was bound to be a god. 

Light flooded the area, and Cyrus' eyes shut against his will. When he next seemed to come to his senses, he knew he was in the same mental plane that Aelfric had brought them to in preparation for their previous encounter. This space looked much the same as it had when Aelfric was the opposing figure with the only notable difference being the color of the flames that lit the battlefield. The fires were sparking to life upon recognizing the oncoming promise of a challenge, ready to rage and move at the commands of their master. 

Alephan came into view soon afterward, his shoes dully clicking against the ground below. His hair was a gray color and tied into a ponytail at the base of his neck, gentle curls reaching down to his elbows in wispy flyaways that found themselves in every direction imaginable. Despite the color of his hair, Alephan appeared rather youthful, perhaps at about Cyrus' age or a bit older. His smile was gentle and charming, though it wasn't quite as serene as Aelfric's perfect grin had been. A mask covered his face in colors of blue, red, yellow, and gray. He wore a simple outfit of gray lined with ornate designs of blue, red, and yellow. It seemed as if gemstones were stitched into his shirt and trousers. His boots were black and didn't seem to have even a speck of dirt on them despite all the wear they had likely seen in the past. A cape of silver hung from his shoulders, falling to rest on his back gently. It was silver and gold on the outside but black on the inside, creating the appearance of a void just as expansive and vast as what rested on the other side of the railings within the shrine. 

Alephan smiled gently in the direction of the travelers, and he reached to his hip. A holster containing a tome could be found there, and he pulled the book free before flicking it open. Immediately, the air in the shrine seemed to grow tense, preparing itself to move at Alephan's every whim. A moment later, his voice began to echo throughout the area. "Thou hast done a fine job to make it this far. I am impressed with thy grit and determination."

Ophilia nodded, her grip on the handle of the Lanthorn growing tighter. Her anxiety was palpable, but after her visit with Aelfric, she was more confident than ever before behind her web of complex nerves. She reached into her bag and pulled free the Staff of Illumination before looking up to Alephan. She didn't say anything, but her message was still communicated clear as could be. 

Alephan's smile only softened at the sight of Aelfric's weapon. "Thou hast defeated Aelfric already... Thou hast earned the power of a god. I suggesten that thou use it for the purposes of light and wisdom, though I suspect thou already understandeth what that refereth to," he said simply. 

Ophilia nodded, and her resolve only seemed to confirm itself despite the anxiety that was continuing to mount inside of her. "Aelfric has told us that we are destined to save this land from the clutches of a dark force, and... We wish to seek your assistance in growing strong enough to rescue Orsterra," she declared. Cyrus could see the way her fingers trembled as she continued to hold tightly to the Lanthorn and the Illumination Staff, almost like Ophilia couldn't convince herself to move to put the former away in preparation for the coming encounter. 

Alephan simply nodded, and from there, he sunk into a battle stance. The pages of his tome seemed to come to life, and he knew what was coming just as well as everyone else. "I see no reason for further preamble then. Letten us see what thou is capable of!" 

Alephan was quick to flick one wrist forward a moment later, creating a barrage of ice that spread across the ground with jagged segments coming forth from its center. Cyrus jumped out of the way at the last moment, though he was left breathless from his rough landing. He hadn't expected Alephan to lash out so suddenly and fiercely, though this ultimately wound up being a perfect sign for Alephan to follow up on his initial attack. The sage prepared yet another attack before lashing out with a pair of fireballs that were headed straight for the dazed Cyrus. 

Just before the scholar could throw up his arms to defend from the oncoming attack, a shield appeared in front of him with a gentle yet ethereal clicking sound. Cyrus looked up to see that a barrier had formed while he was distracted, and he smiled to himself at the sight. Ophilia had summoned the shield while Cyrus was distracted, and it was too late for Alephan to pull his attack back. He seemed to recognize exactly what it was, but he wasn't able to avoid the attacks that were sent flying back in his direction a moment later. 

Cyrus smiled to himself. Ophilia had summoned a barrier of magic the same way they had all learned to from Aelfric, and the shield was going to deflect the attacks Alephan had sent out and send them right back at him. Sure enough, the flames hit the shield, and while the barrier was disintegrated, it flashed one last time before sending to pair of fireballs flying backward in the direction of their foe. Alephan wasn't able to get out of the way in time, hit in the side by one attack before the other orb of fire slammed into his chest. 

Alephan slid backward a short distance across the ground, but he wasn't given the chance to fully get himself under composure. Olberic was the next member of their group to lash out, getting in close before he raised his sword. He struck from downward, slicing up with his blade fiercely. Alephan used his powerful tome (which Cyrus suspected was yet another weapon of the gods) to block the attack, but Olberic would not be deterred. He continued to slash at Alephan, and while the scholar was able to continue blocking, he wasn't prepared for Olberic to suddenly jump backward and duck. 

H'aanit jumped into the air a moment later, an arrow nocked on her bow. She sent it spiraling through the air when the bowstring was released, and the arrow hurtled straight for Alephan's shoulder. The sage's eyes went wide, and while he did attempt to get out of the way, the arrow wound up finding a home inside his upper arm instead. Alephan stared at the injury in shock, but he didn't take any steps to remove the arrow. Instead, he simply flicked his other hand after swapping the hand that was holding onto the tome, and a pair of lightning bolts were sent flying through the air toward the party. 

Cyrus ducked out of the way of the first attack, sent over in direction of Tressa and Alfyn in his desperation to get away. Olberic was the target of the second attack, and he slid backward to stay out of the way of the strike. Primrose, who stepped forward to take the position that Olberic had just been occupying, pulled her dagger free of its home before flicking her other wrist, creating a small sphere of darkness just behind Alephan. 

The shadows stirred and spread outward before knocking the sage forward. Alephan stumbled, leaving him right in the line of fire for Primrose's next attack, a quick stab with her dagger. Alephan dodged the strike before shutting his tome and sending it sideways through the air as he held tightly to the spine. He slammed into Primrose's shoulder with the tome, and she was left stumbling off to the right. Alephan followed it up with a strike from below Primrose's chin, and she was forced backward a moment later, her free hand still crackling with the promise of another shadowy attack. 

Alfyn and Tressa didn't even need to look at one another to know what they had to do next. They launched themselves in the direction of the sage, Tressa's spear flashing as Alfyn prepared an attack of ice magic. Tressa was able to make contact with Alephan's leg, but Alfyn's ice blast ultimately didn't do much damage. Alfyn was the next one to be knocked backward by the god, a blast of ice hitting his chest and forcing him backward across the battlefield. He was only given the chance to stop sliding around wildly when H'aanit threw an arm out to catch him, her large frame not at all bothered by the sheer force behind Alephan's previous attack. Alfyn gave her a glance of gratitude before he focused on composing himself once again for the next wave of attacks. 

Tressa, on the other hand, was still near Alephan. The shadows behind the sage began to distort themselves ever so slightly, but Cyrus convinced himself it was a trick of the odd lighting of the battlefield as he watched Tressa send out an attack of wind magic before nocking an arrow on her bow. She released the strike a moment later, but Alephan was ready for it. He sent out a single blast of fire, and the flames consumed the arrow before hitting Tressa in the chest. The flames died out a moment later, but not before Tressa was sent rolling backward, head over heels before she came to a miraculous stop in a crouch on the ground, heaving with desperate breaths as she stared up at Alephan in shock and awe. 

Ophilia raised the Illumination Staff, and Cyrus felt the energy in the area start to condense itself into something magnificent. The magic buzzing in the air came together to form a powerful blast of light that slammed straight into the ground just in front of Alephan. The sage threw up his tome to block the strike, but he was still sent backward by a few feet. This offered the perfect chance for H'aanit and Olberic to use their axe and spear respectively to lash out at Alephan, once again forcing the sage backward. He was losing ground quickly, and all of them could sense it. 

But when H'aanit and Olberic were finally forced to retreat by Alephan preparing another attack, the onslaught was not yet over. The shadows from behind the sage finally showed their true form, and Therion appeared with his dagger primed for an attack. He struck twice at the sage's back before he disappeared back into the recesses of darkness a moment later, gone just as quickly as he had appeared. That was all it took for Alephan's expression to change though, a special brand of paranoia and fear appearing on his features. His energy appeared to be drained already, but Cyrus was unable to say for sure how Therion had been able to do such a thing with a single sneak attack. 

Either way, it left Alephan's defenses more than wide open, and Primrose surged forward alongside Alfyn, both of their weapons primed at the ready. Primrose slashed with her dagger across Alephan's already injured arm while Alfyn used the hilt of his axe to sweep the sage's feet out from beneath him. Alephan was sent crashing to the ground soon afterward, everything about his body shaky and unstable as he fumbled desperately for purchase in this losing battle. 

Olberic reached for his sword and rushed forward a moment later, managing to get in a quick slash before Alephan was able to lash out with a blast of icy magic. Olberic was sent flying backward, but unfortunately, Alephan was left with consequences from the action. H'aanit flicked her wrist and released a blast of lightning magic that slammed straight into Alephan's chest. While the sage was hardly the weakest when it came to taking damage from magical attacks, he was still forced backward by the blast. 

Ophilia and Tressa converged on Alephan from there, Ophilia extending the Illumination Staff as Tressa held her spear out in front of her. Tressa stabbed with her spear first before Ophilia managed to get in a hit with the edge of the staff lined in gemstones meant to augment magical power. As it turned out, the jewels were more than potent when it came to dealing damage physically as well, and that was all it took for Alephan to be forced backwards into a stumble before his head slammed into the wall at the edge of the battlefield. 

Cyrus took a step forward and gestured for Ophilia and Tressa to get out of the way. They were all too happy to follow his directions, and they found themselves off to the right of where Alephan was located. A moment later, Therion appeared once again, sheathing his dagger as he slunk out of the shadows like a phantom snake. Tressa jumped at the sight of him, only barely managing to restrain herself from lashing out with her spear. She was left breathing heavily from shock, but Therion didn't even acknowledge her close brush with fear, too focused on the events taking place a small distance away. 

Cyrus unleashed a powerful blast of ice magic, and the attack forced Alephan into a rigid position where he was left unable to move. His tome fell from between his fingers, hitting the ground and falling shut a moment later. The magic in the air seemed to draw to a halt as the buzzing sensation gave way to nothingness, a sign that Alephan had properly surrendered. Cyrus simply offered him a light smile. "I believe that would be checkmate," the scholar told him casually. 

Alephan didn't move openly at first, but it was clear that he was in agreement. He closed his eyes, and a moment later, the battlefield returned to its previous state. Alephan rose to his full height as soon as the ice was gone, and he crouched down before picking up his tome. He approached the travelers as they dropped their weapons, each of them recognizing that Alephan wasn't going to be attacking them once again. The god was going to honor his word, and that meant that they had won their second battle against the forces of the heavens. 

"Thou possesseth much power," Alephan began simply, his voice echoing throughout the cave in a way that made Cyrus feel as if his chest and heart were vibrating. "Before thou continueth on the journey, I have a gift for thou." 

Alephan approached Cyrus, his tome grasped firmly between his fingers. He pressed the book into Cyrus' grasp, and the scholar accepted it with wide eyes. Immediately, Cyrus felt the power of the volume flood through his body, every nerve standing to attention at the realization that Alephan intended for this to be a gift akin to what Aelfric had provided to Ophilia. 

It took Cyrus a long moment to shake himself out of his own shock, and he glanced up to Alephan with dim worry reflected in his eyes. "Are you sure you wish to give this to me?" he questioned even though he knew the answer just as well as everyone else. Alephan was a smart man, and he had already calculated exactly what he desired long before this battle began. As soon as the door to the shrine opened, Alephan had crafted his plan. This was simply him putting it into motion. 

Alephan nodded. "But that is not the only gifte I wish to providen thou with." He snapped his fingers, and the air around his hand began to buzz and vibrate with unseen power. The magic in the space began to manifest once more, and soon afterward, it consolidated itself next to Alephan's hand. He grasped at the item that was forming before him, and Cyrus stared at the object with wide eyes. 

It was a staff similar to the one Ophilia had received from Aelfric, but it was a deep obsidian color with a pair of twisting decorations weaving around both the handle and the gemstones at the top. The staff didn't seem to possess the same raw magic that Cyrus had sensed from Aelfric's weapon, but it still held some degree of strength that the scholar could sense despite the distance between himself and Alephan. 

Alephan handed it to Cyrus a moment later, and the scholar pushed his other staff into his bag as he accepted the gift. "This is the Warp Staff. It possesseth the power to transport thou to any location across Orsterra so long as thou hath visited it previously. Thou will finden its strength sufficient to cross the continent in a matter of hours." 

Cyrus could do nothing but stare at the staff in shock for a long time, not sure about what he was meant to say on the matter. How could he ever even dream of thanking Alephan for such a generous present? He shifted his attention over to the tome in his hand a moment later, seeing that it was a light blue color much like the flames that lined the shrine. It had decorations of dark blue on it, the colors blending together to create something perfectly precious that Cyrus didn't think he would ever be able to describe. The outside edge of the cover was a deep black hue much like the obsidian metal that composed the Warp Staff. 

"I have full faithe that thou will utilize the Warp Staff and Tome of Tundras to their full potential," Alephan continued into the silence. "I presenten thee with the gift of focus... The powere to concentrate all energy onto a single target. Thou full mighte is stronger than thou realizeth."

Cyrus looked up to Alephan as the god spoke, and he nodded gently even though he was still at a loss for words. He assumed that by the time he and the others departed from the realm existing in their minds, they would be more than capable of using the power that Alephan had shown himself capable of during the battle. On top of that, they would be able to use this strength of focus that he spoke of, something Cyrus assumed was similar to the power of the second chance that Aelfric had mentioned while they were visiting her shrine. Cyrus didn't have the slightest idea as to what either one of the gifts were meant to mean, but he had a feeling they were going to be presented with the truth of their definitions soon enough. 

The world began to grow hazy from there, and Cyrus pressed his eyes closed as a final statement from Alephan echoed in the air. "Until we meete again." Light spread throughout the space, and everything seemed to shift as reality adjusted to fit the new changes of the area. 

When the light subsided, Cyrus found that his hand was still pressed against the stone carving of the tome. He pulled his hand back slowly, measuring every action as carefully as possible as he tried to ground himself in reality once again. He swallowed dryly and looked around at the other members of the group only to realize that they were looking at Cyrus' bag instead. 

Cyrus glanced over to his satchel and realized that a pair of items was now sticking out of the largest compartment. He pulled the Tome of Tundras and Warp Staff free, and as soon as he touched them both, he felt their power flood through his body once again. The Tome of Tundras specifically held so much raw power in terms of ice magic that it made him gasp in surprise. It was quite a bit like the Illumination Staff, but this time around, it felt like it was truly made for him in a way he struggled to describe. The staff Aelfric gave Ophilia was powerful, yes, but the Tome of Tundras felt so right in Cyrus' hands that he was left awestruck at the mere sight of it. He hadn't ever heard of a tome being used in combat before since staves were the primary weapon used to augment magical skill, but he knew he was going to figure it out soon enough. He was already excited at the idea of determining how he was going to use it in combat, truth be told. 

"I suppose we've managed to get our next blessing from the gods," Primrose commented, breaking through the silence as she raised one hand. Ice began to consolidate in the space above her palm, and a single icicle spun for a moment before she dissipated the spell. Her hand fell back down to her side soon afterward. 

"I think this is going to make our next attack that much easier," Alfyn agreed with a grin spreading across his features. "I'm looking forward to seeing what we can find in Noblecourt now even if it's just for the sake of trying all this out. I've used ice magic before, but... It feels so much stronger now."

"Over the time I have been researching magic, I have come to suspect the gods are linked with specific elements," Cyrus announced. "I believe that each of the gods possesses a power linked with one element specifically. However, if this is true, it means that there are other types of magic yet lurking that we have not yet found mastery over. I believe we are bound to cross paths with such a truth the deeper we go into our shared journey though."

"We can figure out more as we go to the other shrines, but for now, I know I'm all hyped up and ready to try this out!" Tressa exclaimed, her hands clapping together in her moment of pure excitement. "I don't think I've been this ready to get into a battle... Well... Ever!"

"We're going to have to get to Noblecourt before we start thinking of doing anything like that," Therion reminded her. "Speaking of Noblecourt, we should get going there. I think we're going to be able to get there within the hour, and after that, we have a lot of research to do."

Cyrus nodded as he put the Warp Staff away. "I'm inclined to agree," he confirmed. He glanced down at the tome in his hands before sliding it into his bag as well. "If Noblecourt truly does have information for us, we will no doubt have to search for it. The powers of the gods will be crucial to us completing our journey and carrying out the mission Aelfric informed Ophilia about, and we must acquire as much of that strength as possible for the sake of bringing such a task to a conclusion."

"And that's on top of stealing an artifact from ancient times with boundless magical power," Primrose finished with a shake of her head. Her eyes grew shaded at the idea of going to Noblecourt, but she corrected her expression a moment later. "Either way, we should get going. Noblecourt can't be far, and we're going to want to get settled in as soon as possible so that we can start our research."

"I want some time to explore town before we crash for the night too," Alfyn announced. "I've heard that if you know where to look, you might be able to find a way to get discounts at stores and the inn. That's bound to be helpful if Noblecourt is really as expensive as you're all making it sound."

"Trust me, it is," Therion assured him with a heavy sigh. "Let's get to it then." He turned on his heel, his body still somewhat tense as he made for the entrance. His hands were shoved into his pockets, his fool's bangle kept just out of view to make sure it didn't jingle noisily and interrupt the silence of the shrine. The other members of the group watched him go for a moment before sharing a look and tracing his path to the entrance of the shrine. 

Cyrus looked down to the two items he had just acquired, and he found himself smiling. He was going to have to test out the Warp Staff soon to see if it truly did work as well as he was hoping. Alephan's description made it sound truly incredible, and Cyrus wasn't going to waste such potential by allowing it to sit around idly and gather dust. Their travels were already seeming as if they were going to take the group all across the continent, so it was bound to come in handy sooner or later. 

The group stepped out into the sunshine once again soon afterward, the door to the shrine opening and closing for them without a beat of hesitation. The entrance hid itself in the hillside again soon afterward, and with that, Tressa reached into her bag to pull out their map before unfurling it and starting them off on the next leg of their journey. Alfyn stood over her shoulder and examined the map as well, no doubt trying to get a hold of the lay of the land before they arrived in Noblecourt. 

Cyrus smiled to himself as he watched the other members of the party from afar. He didn't know exactly what they were going to be finding when they arrived in Noblecourt, but he was more confident than ever that they would be able to handle it. The Warp Staff and Tome of Tundras would only simplify their journey further, and hopefully, that would offer them a bit of the extra help they needed to carry out their mission. 

The pieces were starting to fall into place once again, and Cyrus had to admit that he was more than happy with the picture that was beginning to form before him. 

Chapter Text

Noblecourt was exactly as Therion remembered it. 

The people in the town square were bustling around and bumping into one another as they did their best to reach the richest of stalls selling wares. The people who were immediately perceived as having less wealth were ultimately pushed aside and shoved without any hesitation. The richer people had so much gold rolling off them that it practically made Therion nauseous, and given that he made his living as a thief, it was impressive that people were able to have so much money that it was difficult for him to bear. He wasn't sure how all of them made their livings, but it was easy enough to say that the people here lived in excess for the same reason that so many people in Stillsnow were forced into such an unfortunate lifestyle under the influence of Rufus just so that they were able to survive. The system was sickening, and Noblecourt was just another symptom of the problem as far as Therion was concerned. 

Noblecourt was exactly as Therion remembered it. He meant that in the worst way possible. 

Olberic and H'aanit were the iron walls of grit and determination that allowed the group to make it through Noblecourt's merchant quarter without running into anybody who wanted to pick a fight with them. Most people, even the filthy rich who had more than they knew what to do with and just as much foolishness to match, knew well enough to stay as far away from the two of them as possible. Therion was both glad for this and upset that this was how it had to play out. On one hand, it meant that he wasn't pushed around like he was worth less than a piece of trash. On the other, it drew all too much attention to their party, and that was the last thing Therion wanted as a thief. 

It seemed as if Therion wasn't the only one who was averse to the idea of having to make herself known in Noblecourt. Primrose had been practically gluing herself to H'aanit's shadow ever since they arrived, using both Linde and Hägen as a way of making sure nobody bumped into her. She was wearing a cloak she had seemingly bought while they were in Stillsnow to hide her face from anyone who may have wanted to get close enough to the point that they would have been able to see her face. Therion understood why she was acting this way; Noblecourt was her hometown, and that meant it posed a threat for her as a noble. Therion hadn't ever been to Noblecourt before the fall of House Azelhart, but he could imagine that this wasn't going to help her much, so it was only natural that she would want to mask herself as much as possible. 

Therion was glad that he and Primrose were able to foster as strong of a working relationship as they had, because under any other circumstances, he imagined he was bound to hate her. She was rich and lived in the upper segments of society until her noble house collapsed, though he supposed he wasn't able to really push back against her when she had turned to his same lifestyle after going through so much. Therion never expected he would find himself allied with a former noble in such a way, but he supposed that he never saw any of this coming. He would have preferred to stay as far away from Noblecourt as possible because of how obnoxious the people there were, but he knew he didn't have much of a choice but to stalk into the eye of the storm if he wanted to preserve what little pride he had left. As much as he liked the idea of making Cordelia and Heathcote beg him for forgiveness after what they had done, he knew that wasn't going to happen, and his best course of action was to just find the damn dragonstones so that he could be freed from the worst contract he had ever found himself at the heart of. 

It was only by some stroke of a miracle that the group managed to arrive at the inn, though Therion noticed that Alfyn had strayed away from them. He was likely off to try and find as much information as possible about getting a discount at the inn for the night. They were going to be there for at least two or three days as far as Therion could tell, and while he knew they had more than enough money to look after the costs of staying in Noblecourt thanks to his thefts from the Obsidian Parlor, he preferred to preserve their leaves as much as possible. There was nothing wrong with a discount, and hopefully Alfyn would be able to secure one before night fell. 

"For now, we should split up and see what we can do about finding out more about all that's going on around here," Tressa suggested. "We have to find out more about the shrines, and we need to do what we can to search for the dragonstone too. I think we can accomplish both goals at once if we split up."

"We should all split up," Therion cut in, not wanting to admit that he wanted some time to himself. "We need to get a lay of the land before we do anything else. Noblecourt is a big city, and if we want to find anything, we have to know what's going on." Therion did have a point in saying this since he was fully aware of just how obnoxiously huge Noblecourt was as an environment, but at the same time, he just needed a break from the crowds. He had enough of a headache after the way the last few days had been going, and he was desperate for some time to himself to just think over everything he had to put up with thanks to Cordelia and Heathcote's damn habits of blackmail. 

The other members of the group glanced to one another before Cyrus offered a smile that was all too charming for someone who should have driven Therion up a wall simply by existing. "Alfyn seems to have already set off on his own," he remarked. "I agree that it would be best for us to learn as much as possible about this town before we settle down. If we find any new information, we can talk about it when we meet up later tonight for dinner. How does that sound?"

There was a general consensus of agreement at those words, and Therion took that as his cue to disappear into the shadows and get ready for a moment of peace. He knew relaxation didn't exist in Noblecourt except for the richest people who ran the entire city, but he needed something similar to peace for a few scarce moments. He had to iron out his thoughts, and he knew he wasn't going to be able to do any of that as long as he was overwhelmed by all the noise of the merchant district of the city. 

Therion slunk to the outskirts of the city, and he let out a sigh once the cacophony of the city had faded into distant white noise. He tossed a small apple into the air before catching it and taking a bite. He had managed to snag it off a merchant with too much pride and spite for any one person, though Therion supposed he was a hypocrite for making comments of that nature. He ultimately shrugged it off though, knowing that getting caught up in thoughts about the upper class would only distract him from what he actually had to get off his chest as soon as possible. 

Therion knew realistically that he should have shoved Rufus out of his mind as soon as they left his body there to rot in the Obsidian Parlor, and yet, he wasn't able to stop thinking about the monster who ran Stillsnow from the shadows. Therion didn't even want to know how many people Rufus had wronged over his many years working at the heart of such a twisted operation, and he also chose to not ask any questions about how long it had been going on. As far as he could tell, it had been in existence for well over a decade, but an operation like that could have easily been around much longer. There was no way to say for sure, but Therion knew he hated it more than words could ever express. 

The worst part of it all was the way that Rufus' face was structured, angular and sharp as it was. Therion couldn't help but find it all strikingly familiar in the worst way possible, and he did his best to not think about it even though he had no way of escaping it. How could he get away from everything that had been building up in the back of his mind for as long as he could remember? There were some questions that had lingered in Therion's head for ages, and he didn't know how he was supposed to get rid of them. He had given up on trying, but Rufus only added an extra layer of complication to the equation. 

Therion knew little about his family. He remembered his mother vaguely, but she passed away in poverty before Therion could reach his ninth birthday. She was doing everything she could for the sake of them both, but in the end, she wasn't able to handle all the pressure that came with stretching herself so thin. She was a maid in the house of some noble Therion had long since forgotten the name of, and the work had been long and difficult in a way that her body hadn't been able to handle. She perished exhausted and starving, and Therion could still remember holding her hand until it went cold. 

Therion never had the chance to meet any other blood relatives of his either. He simply hadn't ever been granted that opportunity; his mother claimed that she had run away from an awful life that she wouldn't allow her child to be wrapped up in. Therion assumed that was why he didn't know anything about his father, but that didn't do much to lessen his curiosity. He respected his mother's space, but at the same time, he had always been curious as a child. How could he not wonder what she had gone through before settling down with him? It was like asking for him to come up with some theory or another and hope it struck close to the truth when he shared it with her. 

In the end, Therion was never able to hear the truth behind what happened in his past. His mother simply said that it wasn't something he should concern himself with, and Therion had allowed that to be enough so he didn't push her too far by accident. He took a bite of his apple with a frown on his face, bitterly thinking about how her trying to keep him away from the truth hadn't been worth much in the long run. 

Therion had recognized something strangely familiar the moment he looked over to Rufus. The man hadn't even bothered with giving him a second glance, and Therion was more than fine with that. The longer they looked at one another, the more Therion realized just how alike they looked. Rufus' darker skin tone seemed to match Therion's all too well, and the sharp look in Rufus' eyes was too similar to the eyes that met Therion's gaze when he looked into a mirror. He knew he was probably jumping to conclusions, but Therion's mind couldn't stop racing once he recognized the similarities that he shared with the man at the heart of Stillsnow's tragedy. 

His mother had left behind a dark life, one that harmed her more than she was ever willing to admit to her young son. It was too much for her to talk about, and so, she kept it as quiet as possible. Therion had learned in recent years that this was likely her way of protecting him from the world that she had escaped from, fulfilling the duty of a mother by caring for the one who kept her put together in the heat of her greatest struggles. She refused to allow Therion to be sucked of the life she had left behind, and so, her silence was her greatest weapon to combat the truth. 

But that didn't change the fact that when Therion combined her pale hair and green eyes with the facial structure and dark skin of Rufus, he almost saw himself. 

Therion took another bite of his apple, spitting out a seed that managed to work its way between his teeth. 

That was the reason he had done so much to help the women of Stillsnow. The longer he thought about it, the more it made sense; his mother had escaped a life where she was nothing more than a pawn under the thumb of a twisted man with too much luxury for any one person, hell, for any one town. She kept Therion as far away from the northern regions of the continent because she was trying to avoid all that was found there as well. She never spoke about her past because there was no way someone so young would be able to understand the truth about all she had gone through, all that had caused Therion to exist in the first place. 

He had distributed Rufus' money among the women of Stillsnow's brothel because that was all he felt he could do. His mother had seemingly left a life of that twisted nature behind, and even if he wasn't going to be able to find any conclusive evidence that this was his history, her history, he was going to do what he could to help those who were hurting. He would have wanted someone else to do the same for his mother had she been working there in the Obsidian Parlor. 

Before Therion knew it, the apple in his hand had been reduced to the core, and he stared at it for a long moment. In a way, he could relate; he also felt as if he had been stripped of everything that could have defended him from the world. Seeing Rufus had done more to his mental state than he was willing to admit, and he couldn't seem to bring himself back to the land of the living no matter how much he pushed against the currents of time. There was just too much screaming in the back of his mind. 

But perhaps he was jumping to conclusions. Even if Therion's curiosity had dulled over the years, he found himself wanting to do something to learn more about his origins, and perhaps Rufus had simply been an easy excuse for him to remember his mother all over again. Rufus didn't seem to notice any similarities between them, but then again, what did that count for? Rufus was nothing short of a complete monster who deserved every injury that he had been given in their final battle and more. Therion didn't have a way to figure out the truth behind his past, as even if his suspicions about Rufus were correct, who the hell would be able to confirm something like that? Rufus was dead and rotting away in hell, and his mother... She was gone too. 

Therion shook his head and pulled himself back to his full height. He couldn't keep sulking when there was work to be done. He would have all the time in the world to think if a dead man was his father after he was finished collecting the dragonstones to get Cordelia and Heathcote to stop bothering him when it came to the fool's bangle. For the time being, he had a mission, and he wasn't going to falter in it now. 

He started to walk back to town soon afterward, his fingers sticky and itching for the leaves that filled the pockets of the rich in Noblecourt. The city was the same as always, and luckily for Therion, that meant he would not be leaving empty-handed. 

~~~~~

Describing her thoughts on being back in Noblecourt was... Difficult, to say the least. 

Primrose had taken to pulling her hood up over her face to make sure nobody was able to see who she was. She didn't think she was going to find up finding anybody that she used to know, but at the same time, she knew it would be best if she was safe rather than sorry. The last time she was in Noblecourt, she was facing the fallout that came with the death of her father. He had been buried in the graveyard of the city, and after that, Primrose was forced on the run to escape the threat that had ultimately claimed his life. 

Primrose knew she was going to have to come back to Noblecourt sooner or later. That was a fact of life whether she like dit or not. She simply didn't think she was going to be told to return by Rufus when their battle drew to a conclusion, and Primrose quietly decided that she hated being back on terms like that. One of her father's killers was within Noblecourt. She should have been out there tracking him down, and yet, she just couldn't bring herself to do it. 

An unknown emptiness had started to fill Primrose's body and mind after she killed Rufus. She knew she should have been glad one of her enemies was gone after all the trouble he had caused for her, and yet... She just wasn't relieved the way she thought she would be. Her stomach was still twisted in a knot, and eating was such an unappealing idea that even thinking about it made her feel like she was going to be sick. Her anxiety on the matter was worse than she thought, it seemed. 

Primrose should have been glad to be back home, to be able to visit the grave of her father again after all this time. Instead, she was only left wondering if this was the path she truly believed in. She had told herself it was back in Stillsnow, but she couldn't help her doubts when she was back home and forced to confront the past she had spent so much time running from. She had decided briefly that she was satisfied looking after the other members of her traveling party, but who could say how long that was going to last? She was going to have to kill the other two crows soon as per her mission, and she was going to have to crawl to the dark underbelly of Noblecourt in order to do so. 

Truth be told, Primrose wanted Alfyn to find out the information they needed about saving money at the inn as soon as possible. She was hoping to be able to hide herself away in her room until the group left Noblecourt behind, but she doubted it was going to be quite so simple. Nothing ever was these days. She was just going to have to be content with hiding her face from the world around her until she was able to worm into a hotel room out of sight of most others who may have been able to recognize her. She didn't think anybody would know her face after all her time spent away, but as far as Primrose was concerned, it was best to be safe rather than sorry. 

Primrose found herself drifting aimlessly through the streets, the chatter of the people around her reduced to little more than white noise in the back of her mind. She wondered how many of these people had been present when House Azelhart fell to ruin ten years prior. The destruction of her home had ultimately led to chaos making its way through the roots of Noblecourt as far as Primrose had heard. She had been told that the people were doing their best to seem composed on the surface so they didn't have to face the dark truth of their situation, and somehow, that only made her feel worse than she would have otherwise. 

As far as Primrose could tell though, Noblecourt had managed to pull itself together at least somewhat. The people were smiling and laughing, and if there was something dark going on, they were doing a great job of hiding it. Primrose was confident there was some figure slinking around in the shadows, but she couldn't bring herself to face it. They would be able to return to Noblecourt at a later date without any issues; the Warp Staff Alephan had given Cyrus would make sure of that. Primrose would be able to tell them about her mission and its next steps in Noblecourt when she was ready to face what was waiting for her. She had no idea when that was going to be, but she would figure it out when the time came. What other choice did she have? 

Primrose eventually stopped her wandering when she came upon a familiar path that led up to the Azelhart estate, or to be more accurate, what was left of it. As far as Primrose could tell, the area had been left almost completely abandoned. She would have expected someone with enough leaves to move in and make the place their own, but it seemed as if the estate was just as desolate as it had been when she left. She swallowed dryly, wondering if she would ever have the courage to go inside. She knew there were ghosts of the past waiting for her inside, and Primrose didn't know if the strength to face them existed in her body, past, present, or future. 

Primrose reached one hand out in the direction of the main gate, but she ultimately pulled her fingers back and pressed her palm down to her side. She was tired of having to think about this all the time, but she knew it wasn't going to be that simple. She couldn't wish it away no matter how desperate she was to get away from the past. She would have to wait until the time was right even though she barely knew what that meant. Then again, she didn't know what she believed in anymore either. Why not add one more existential crisis to the pile? It would certainly fit the pattern she had been making for herself ever since she left behind Sunshade, though if she was being honest, it was a track record that extended much further into the past than she was willing to admit to anyone, herself included. 

Primrose turned away from the Azelhart estate--or, to be more accurate, what was left of it--and glanced in the opposite direction. A small stairway could be seen peeking out from the activity of the town, and Primrose felt her stomach churn. She knew exactly what that path led to, and she felt her body moving her in that direction before she could stop herself. 

Primrose descended the stairwell, one hand brushing gently against the railing as she arrived at her destination. She did her best to internalize every sensation coursing through her mind when she took a few steps forward, her body pushing back against her in her moment of anxiety. She knew she shouldn't come here, but she couldn't hold herself back even as her mind was screaming. A dull sense of peace overcame her, and Primrose did her best to let it sink in and eventually become real even though she knew it wasn't going to be that easy. 

The graveyard of Noblecourt was a place Primrose had been a few times, most notably in the aftermath of her father's murder. She had come to visit him the day his body was lowered into the earth, and in the weeks that followed before her depart from Noblecourt, she visited him often, asking what she was meant to do next. A child of less than thirteen years was hardly able to take over an entire noble household without guidance, and Primrose doubted she would be able to trust anyone with something so sacred after she had been stabbed in the back the same way Geoffrey was skewered in the chest the day of his death. She couldn't put her faith in anyone, and so, she counted only on herself as she packed her things and left. 

Primrose could see the gravestone that marked where Geoffrey was buried, but she didn't approach it. She didn't have the strength to do such a thing yet; she wouldn't be able to come back until she had a random burst of confidence or her mission was completed, and Primrose didn't know if she would be able to count on either one of those things happening in the near future. She didn't deserve to see her father until after his murder had been avenged, and she was the one slated to act as the agent of the reaper as the duty was carried out. 

Primrose sighed, her mind shifting back to Yusufa's death from a few weeks prior. It felt like she had known Yusufa for an eternity and only a few seconds at the same time, and Primrose felt a deep aching sensation in the pit of her stomach that she knew was grief without even having to think about it. How could she avoid it? She missed Yusufa the same way she missed her father and everyone else who she had ever been forced to leave behind by continuing to live the way she was. Nothing was easy, and it seemed as if she was more alone than ever before these days even though she was surrounded by others. 

The other seven travelers in Primrose's party had found a place in her heart before she could do anything to protest it, and before she knew it, she found herself getting attached. She noticed the little things, like the way Tressa sang words when she got excited or how Therion always flicked his apples in the same direction when he was playing with them in the silence. H'aanit's voice always lowered to a gentle rumble when she spoke to Linde and Hägen, and Cyrus talked to himself under his breath no matter what he was doing, narrating every action for both his own sake and the understanding of some higher power Primrose never understood. They weren't perfect, but they were hers, and to Primrose, that was more than enough. 

Primrose didn't want to have to bury anybody else she cared about. She had seen too many people suffer and die in her short lifetime, and the last thing she wanted was for her grief to tear an even larger hole inside of her. She was going to do everything she could to protect those she cared about. The travelers were more than just mere companions for her journey; they were her family, and she would do anything to make sure they stayed safe. Fighting the men of the crow was dangerous, but Primrose would defend them regardless of what dangers tried to stop her along the way. 

Primrose hesitantly pulled away from the graveyard with a sigh, starting her walk back up to the rest of town. She couldn't wait for their inn rooms to be secured so she could hide herself away until after their mission was completed. She didn't know who the man of the crow was, but it wouldn't surprise her if he managed to find a way to know if she was in Noblecourt. Rufus wouldn't have told Primrose the truth as to the location of his comrade if he didn't have a plan. He likely did it because he was sure it would lead Primrose to her death even though he was going to be incorrect. Primrose wasn't going to let a man of the crow defeat her after all she had been through, and she was going to find a way to shatter Rufus' plan as soon as it manifested. 

But that didn't mean she wasn't going to be careful until the time did come for a full confrontation. It was quite the opposite, as a matter of fact; she was going to look after everything she could in order to make sure she didn't find danger along the way. Noblecourt was not the same place Primrose remembered it as being, instead having been overcome with darkness and shadows in the ten years since she was last there. There was something going on in the spaces between the bustling crowds and the exchange of leaves, and Primrose was going to stay as far away from it as possible until the time was right. 

Primrose continued to move through the crowd as she made her way back to the inn on the desperate hope that Alfyn had found out how to get them a discount. She saw a flash of lavender hair in the bustling space, and a gasp pushed its way from her lips. She turned to try and catch another glimpse of the person with pastel purple hair, but by the time she was looking in the right direction, they were gone. 

Primrose let out a sigh. She knew she shouldn't ahve expected to find other people who would have been loyal to her and House Azelhart. Too much time had passed. Arianna was a stroke of luck, but she wasn't going to get so lucky a second time, she was sure. For the time being, she was on her own, and she was simply going to have to deal with that and its related consequences. 

No. She wasn't alone, not anymore, and hopefully, she never would be again. 

Chapter Text

Therion had done his best to shove his previous thought processes as far out of his mind as possible as he made his way to the front end of Noblecourt once again. He was going to have to start his search somewhere, and as far as he was concerned, the best place to kick it off would be the entrance of the town. If only it was that easy though; Therion could already tell this was going to be a pain in the ass. 

"'A scholar in Noblecourt.' Thanks, Heathcote. Those are like a leaf a dozen here..." Therion muttered bitterly with a shake of his head. "I need something more to go on than that..." He began to wander around the stalls in the entrance square of Noblecourt, keeping his eyes and ears peeled for anything that could turn out to be a lead. He couldn't say for sure what was going to help him in the heat of the moment, but he at least had to start somewhere. Cursing Heathcote for the thousandth time wasn't going to do him any good, so he began to look at the wares of a fruit stand, itching for an apple to replace the one he had eaten on the way in. 

The crowds of Noblecourt were just as frustratingly loud as always, but there was a pair of voices that managed to differentiate themselves just enough to become the subject of Therion's fascination. "I'm glad it's on the outskirts. I avoid it if I can," the first of the two people said, a voice with a somewhat high-pitched voice. 

"That creepy old mansion on the northwest part of town?" the second man, this one with a slightly deeper voice, asked. His companion seemingly nodded, prompting the second man to continue. "I heard someone actually lives there."

The first man staggered in surprise. "Who?" he questioned in pure shock. 

"A man named Orlick. They say he's some kind of scholar," his companion explained. 

"What business would a scholar have living there?" the first man inquired. 

"Research. Apparently, he spends all his time locked up in his study looking at some shiny red stone," the second man said, his voice sinking into a cadence that was reserved exclusively for gossip. "His men won't let anyone in to see him."

Therion's eyes flickered open, and he glanced over his shoulder at the two young men. Neither one of them had noticed him on account of the crowd, but they were talking loudly enough that it was more than easy enough for Therion to pick out their voices, and he latched onto what they were saying with everything he had as the first man continued to speak. "If you ask me, it sounds like he's hiding something."

"He may very well be, but I'm fine letting him keep his secrets," the second man commented with a sigh and matching shake of his head. "I don't want anything to do with that place."

The two men departed from there, off into the heat of the crowd. Therion didn't bother to follow them, knowing they had already communicated all they had to for him to understand. It was impressive just how easy he had been able to figure out where the dragonstone was; he had expected to have to hit the tavern and wait until somebody with loose enough lips drank enough mead to let the secret slip. It seemed people in Noblecourt were just as gullible as they always had been, discussing such heavy subjects without a care in the world. That was more than fine with Therion; it certainly made his job easier, and given the circumstances, that was all he could have asked for.

As far as Therion was concerned, the man could keep his secrets all he wanted. However, that stone was going back to Bolderfall with Therion regardless of what that scholar was hoping for. Orlick, they said his name was? That was all Therion needed to start doing a bit of searching on his own, and he saw no point in wasting any time getting right to it. 

"So, Therion. Do you really think we'll find the dragonstone here?"

Therion nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw a familiar face manifest in front of him, and a moment later, he realized Tressa was standing in roughly the same spot where the two men had previously been. He did his best to hide how surprised he was that he had let her sneak up on him as he spoke next. He needed to stop getting caught up in his own thoughts and actions; that was what got him into this situation in the first place, wasn't it? Caution was the name of the game, and it started with Tressa. "That's the question of the day, isn't it? Won't know until we ask around," Therion told her simply. Even if he knew about Orlick, there was still a lot he didn't understand yet, and the best way to figure that out was to just start searching. 

Tressa sighed and shook her head. "I suppose for you, that means hanging out in the alehouse, eavesdropping for rumors and the like... If you ask me, I think it's better to just talk to people. You're more likely to get an honest answer that way. In my line of work, you can't afford to chase after every wild rumor you hear. You have to find people you can trust." 

Therion revealed an apple under his cloak that he had grabbed while at the nearby fruit stand. Tressa resisted the urge to glare at him for indulging without paying once again. They had gone through this song and dance enough times though to know that Tressa wasn't going to do anything aside from glare daggers at him while he did nothing to right his wrong. "Eh. Visit enough alehouses, and you learn to separate the wheat from the chaff," Therion said simply, taking a bite out of the side of the apple. "And in my line of work, it's not wise to make too many friends. They tend not to last." The fool's bangle jingled its agreement around his wrist. 

Tressa's posture grew stiff, almost like she was upset by something he had said. He could guess rather easily what it was that had left her agitated. "I see," she said stiffly. "I guess that means we're both cut out for our own trades."

Therion let out a small snort. "I guess you could say that," he commented before taking another bite of the apple. Even if the search for the dragonstones was frustrating, at least he could take a small amount of joy from poking fun at Tressa every once in a while. He glanced down at her, his visible eye narrowing. "What brings you here anyways? I would have thought you would be with the others right now."

"Oh, right," Tressa said with a light smile, her previous worry starting to melt away before it vanished completely. "Alfyn was able to figure out how to get the discount at the inn. Cyrus and Olberic are handling that, so we're all getting settled into our rooms yet. I wanted to take you back so you can see where we're staying, and after that, we can actually start the search for the dragonstone."

Therion nodded his understanding. "Lead the way then," he told her. Tressa nodded before turning on her heel and starting off in the direction of the inn. Therion trailed behind her carefully, doing what he could to listen for anybody else who may have been discussing the strange scholar that lived in the mansion just outside of town. He doubted any leads would fall into his lap the way the previous bit of information had, but he liked to stay optimistic every once in a while, especially with a mission as frustrating as this one. 

Unfortunately, the walk back to the inn did not yield any new information, and Therion was left to slip into the circle of travelers in the area seamlessly with nothing aside from what he had already heard. Granted, he already had a substantial lead, so Therion could only imagine that this was going to put him at an inherent advantage over Cyrus in terms of the scholar's search for information when it came to the shrines scattered across Orsterra. It hadn't been long since they arrived in Noblecourt, and Therion was willing to consider this a victory. 

"Let's go on and get moved in for the night, yeah?" Alfyn questioned, gesturing to the inn nearby. Primrose nodded quickly, her every action tense. It was easy for Therion to figure out why; Primrose had explained she was born in Noblecourt, and since she was returning home for the first time in ten years, she was trying to ensure she wasn't found out by accident or coincidence. Meeting Arianna had been nice, but Therion could tell Primrose didn't want to repeat that this time they were in town if at all possible. 

As soon as their keys were distributed by the innkeeper, the group was off, though Therion noticed one thing about their lodgings almost right off the bat. They only needed to get into two different rooms, and as soon as the door swung open to his room, he realized why. These rooms had four beds each, all of them scattered in different corners of the room. Therion winced at the idea of being around more people than he absolutely had to be, so he turned to look at Alfyn, silently demanding him for an explanation. 

"There weren't enough available rooms for us to stay in pairs," Alfyn replied. "I figured it would be best if we just went in groups of four then. That was the best way to handle things. Besides, it's not going to cost us too much. Apparently, there's a way people in town get discounts for their relatives, and hearing about that was all it took for these two rooms to cost about as much as the four did back in Stillsnow."

Therion still wasn't too happy about the way Noblecourt was so overwhelmingly expensive, but he knew they didn't have much of a choice. He sat down on the bed in the farthest corner from the door since it offered the most privacy and seclusion at the cost of being far from the entrance to the room. He continued to enjoy his apple as he did so, one foot tapping absentmindedly against the ground. He was glad not for the first time and certainly not the last that he hadn't brought too much along in terms of physical items. It wasn't as if he had much to begin with to drag with him on a journey across the continent, but it was certainly more convenient than Alfyn having to organize his medical supplies before he was able to set out and see what the town had to offer him. 

Therion waited until everyone was finished unpacking, and by that point, he had already mowed through the remainder of his apple. He tossed the core into the trash bin of the room before he looked to the other members of the group. The girls were already out in the hallway waiting for them, and Therion did a quick headcount in his mind to make sure he only had to say this once. Much to his surprise, he came up to only seven instead of eight, though Therion already knew who was missing. 

"Where's Primrose?" Olberic asked, posing the question before anybody else could even think of it. 

"She wished for some time to herself," H'aanit replied simply. Linde and Hägen were still by her side even when faced with the bustling crowds of Noblecourt, and Therion had to applaud their dedication. Or, rather, he would do that if he wasn't referring to a snow leopard and direwolf. 

"So, what are we doing now?" Tressa questioned, her eyes flickering back and forth between Cyrus and Therion. "Should we go and check out a library to see if there's any information on the dragonstone there? Maybe we'll get lucky and actually find it on display there or something."

"We've got a lead on where to find it," Therion declared. "It's supposedly in a mansion on the edge of town being looked after by a scholar named Orlick. I doubt he's going to give it up so easily, but that's his damn problem, not ours."

"Wait... You mean we're going to be able to go and get the dragonstone without having to spend the evening in a tavern waiting for somebody to slip up and tell us about it?" Tressa inquired, her voice rising with excitement with each passing word. Therion nodded, though truth be told, her voice was already staring to grate on his nerves, not that he would ever admit that openly. Tressa squealed and clapped her hands together. "Yes! That means we're going to be able to see some real action soon!"

"Hopefully this man won't be as much of a problem as Rufus was. He caused all sorts of problem back in Stillsnow," Alfyn commented as he started to walk for the entrance of the inn. The other members of the group trailed after him. 

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Therion told him with a frown. "He apparently has guards making sure nobody gets in his mansion without his express permission, and that could spell trouble for us if we aren't careful."

"Of course it could," Tressa sighed. "Nothing can ever just be easy for us, huh?"

"When you're dealing with rich people, nothing ever is easy," Therion told her, not even bothering to censor himself. It wasn't as if any of them had enough leaves to fall into that category to begin with, but even if they had, he couldn't bring himself to care. Heathcote and Orlick both had more than enough leaves to their names, and they were already irritating Therion to no end despite him having not even met the latter yet. 

Noblecourt was just as overwhelming and loud when they arrived outside, and the chatter of the people in the square was more than enough to drown out all potential conversation from their greater party of seven. Therion wove his way through the crowds easily, taking advantage of his lack in verticality to break through the bustling people around him without any issues. After a while, it was easy enough to figure out where they were meant to be going, and Therion used the marker in question as a beacon for his eyes to track. 

The mansion just outside town was, in a word, massive. It was tall and imposing, seeming to cast a shadow over the path that led to its entrance. The mansion was clearly meant to be a step away from the rest of the town, and Therion sighed at that. He could already tell the man who lived inside was going to be obnoxious, and something deep in the pit of his stomach told him it wasn't going to be as easy to get inside as he was hoping. Then again, nothing seemed to be simple when it came to this mission. It hadn't been simple when he was being used as a punching bag by the ghisarma, and it hadn't been simple when he was robbing Rufus in the aftermath of the man's death either. If anything, this just felt like it was par for the course, another cherry to throw on top of the cake made of knives and irritation. 

Therion watched the manor for a short while, and he saw the front door open as a guard walked out. He turned to look at the rest of his companions, gesturing for them to hide. Luckily, they were able to get the picture before Therion needed to say anything, and he ducked down behind the remnants of a tree trunk to see if there was anything he could glean from the guard. His eyes narrowed, and he watched every movement of the new arrival, scrutinizing his target for anything even slightly resembling information. 

The guard looked around the area before he returned to the stairs leading up to the mansion. He shared a brief nod with both of the others who were looking after the front entrance, and Therion resisted the urge to wince. What kind of scholar had armed guards to look after his home? The answer was the same type of person that lived in Noblecourt to begin with, but he supposed ripping into Orlick from a distance wasn't going to help anyone. He was going to need a way to get around those guards if he wanted to have a chance to grab the dragonstone, and unfortunately, he could already tell that was going to be much easier said than done. 

Therion examined the building as carefully as he could given his position, but he could already tell there wasn't going to be another door for him to slip through. It was either he went in through the front door or he didn't go in at all, and he somehow doubted his merchant trick was going to work out again after it had already only partially helped him back in Bolderfall. In other words, he was going to have to figure something else out. Why couldn't anything be easy for him these days?

Therion started to walk away from there, and he gestured for the others to follow him. "Come on," he said roughly, doing his best to keep from snapping at them but still struggling to keep the irritation out of his voice completely. "We're going."

"Where are we headed now?" Ophilia questioned, concern already starting to seep into her voice. She held tightly to the Lanthorn, and Therion could tell that Noblecourt was starting to stress her out already. At least he wasn't the only one who hated being here. 

"The tavern. Somebody has to know something, and we're going to make sure they cough it up," Therion responded as he did his best to hold back a heavy sigh. He had been hoping they wouldn't have to resort to this, but it seemed as if the universe really didn't care what he wanted. He should have figured that out a long time ago, but he let his hopes go up anyways. Being around the other travelers was already starting to mess with his head. It was only a matter of time before he started thinking of feelings in a positive manner. Gross. 

"I thought you said we weren't going to have to do that," Tressa whimpered, her expression slipping into something crestfallen. 

"Times change," was all Therion could bring himself to say, barely managing to keep himself from admitting that he had been hoping it wouldn't end this way either. He knew saying that wasn't going to help anyone though, so he focused on putting one foot in front of the other as he lined the path to the tavern. He went there each time he was in Noblecourt not because the mead was particularly stellar but because he knew people with too much pride were bound to slip up when they had taken in enough alcohol. It was a perfect way for him to get information, and he wasn't going to pass that up. 

Therion could feel Olberic's eyes on him as they walked to the tavern, and he allowed himself to fall into pace with the warrior carefully. Olberic looked down at him with a light frown. "You weren't able to find a way inside, were you?" he questioned. 

Therion didn't respond to that at first, not really wanting to admit the fact that Olberic was right. He was in a bad enough mood as it was between being back in Noblecourt at all and having to put up with Rufus back in Stillsnow, and he would prefer to cut back on the unnecessary chatter as much as possible. "Tell me. How would you get into this building?"

"An interesting query..." Olberic hummed. Therion's gaze hardened on pure instinct as Olberic continued. "Were it a battlefield, I would seek out the weakest flank and strike, using the element of surprise."

Therion raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Would've figured you more for a full frontal assault," he commented. He didn't really believe that; contrary to the stereotypes about warriors with massive muscles, Olberic was more than strong in terms of strategy. Cyrus was the group's primary tactician, but that didn't mean the rest of them were clueless about it, and Olberic knew more on the matter than most others. Therion supposed that came with the territory of having been a soldier for so many years. 

Olberic didn't rise to the bait Therion left behind, and the thief was left to wonder if perhaps Olberic knew Therion was trying to goad an unexpected response out of him. Therion wasn't entirely sure why he was bothering, but it did something to entertain him in a location he absolutely despised, so that had to count for something. "Of course I would consider that, too, were it necessary," Olberic told Therion simply. "But either way, reaching the center of the manse would be no easy task."

"Brute force can only get you so far, eh?" Therion snorted, and he found that he was quietly learning more about Olberic than he expected to that day. He didn't mind that, of course. At one point, he would have been much more upset about it than he was at present, but he knew things could have been worse. Olberic was hardly the worst person for him to talk to, and the warrior didn't seem to mind speaking with Therion either. 

Olberic offered Therion a firm nod as he continued to speak. "Just so. The straight way of the soldier is not always the surest, nor quickest, path." Olberic smiled as he met Therion's eyes, mischief starting to gleam just beneath the surface in a way that most others would have found uncharacteristic, but to Therion, it just seemed like a natural extension of Olberic's regular demeanor. "Hence, this venture is best left in your hands. I'm most eager to see your skills in action."

Therion smiled to himself, but the action was bittersweet and muted. "Never thought I'd have an audience..." he confessed quietly, though he supposed this was only halfway true. He had seen an audience at one point in the past, but that was a long time ago, and as far as Therion was concerned, that was one string of events best left forgotten. That didn't mean he was able to completely release himself from his past, but he was still sure as hell going to try. 

The group arrived at the tavern soon afterward, and as soon as the door was opened, Therion was hit with an overwhelming amount of noise from people chattering with one another about some subject or another. Therion saw Tressa and Ophilia wince at the sudden noise, but he did his best to carry on. "Split up and see if you hear anything about a scholar named Orlick," Therion instructed of them. Noblecourt had a larger tavern than most towns, something that seemed natural given just how massive the city was compared to a majority of the other settlements Therion had visited in the past. The tavern was almost on par with Sunshade or Stillsnow, as a matter of fact, and Therion did his best to not draw any internal parallels on that front. There was a small stage at the far end of the tavern as well, though that only made the situation worse as far as Therion was concerned. 

Primrose would have liked to dance on that stage, Therion was sure. He could certainly understand why she had decided to hang back this time since it would have only brought her and the rest of them danger and trouble, but that didn't change the fact that he was still thinking about her. In a way, it was ridiculous. He hadn't been around this group all that long, but he still found himself thinking about what they did and did not like. Heavens above, being around people was starting to make him soft. Therion gritted his teeth to try and push the thought away even though he knew it wasn't going to be quite so easy to escape the truth of the matter. He slid effortlessly into a stool at the bar, not even bothering to check if his fellow travelers had split up as he instructed. 

Two man appeared soon afterward, and they sat down in the two barstools just to Therion's left. He glanced at them out of the corner of his eye, but he didn't say anything on the matter. He was easily able to hear what they were saying even above the cacophony of the tavern, and he did his best to drown out all other noise to focus on their conversation specifically.

"How's business, my friend?" the first of the two men asked. He was noticeably older than his companion, not that he seemed eager to acknowledge it in the slightest. 

"Not good, I'm afraid. I hope you're faring better," his companion said with a light cringe. 

"I wish I could tell you so, but it's been hard lately for us too," the first man replied, releasing a sigh to punctuate the sentence. 

"My condolences..." the second man murmured carefully. 

The two men turned to the bar and prepared to order, and Therion resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Mine too," he muttered sarcastically. Business had been difficult for him as of late too, but he wasn't going to be whining about it to anybody else. That wasn't an option for him as long as the dragonstones were still out there, and the fool's bangle rubbed uncomfortably against his wrist as confirmation. "Moving on..."

Two other men could be seen at a nearby table, and Therion had to wonder if they had any consideration for others with how loudly they were talking. "I just don't get those people!" one of them proclaimed boldly. "Locked away in that manor, surrounded by guards..."

"It's strange, isn't it?" his companion said simply, and Therion found himself smiling behind his scarf. Now this sounded like something he could listen to for information. "Makes me wonder just what Orlick's up to in there."

Therion got to his feet and approached their table before sliding into the third chair, the only one left available. "Mind if I have a seat?" he inquired, asking the question primarily out of formality rather than actually meaning it. He was going to stay there either way, and he would figure out what they knew about Orlick one way or another whether they wanted him there or not.

"Not at all," the first man said, a smile on his face. 

Therion held back a comment about Noblecourt's people and focused on the conversation at hand. "Can I get you two a drink?"

Both the men immediately lit up at that, and just like that, the pieces started to fall into place for Therion. The first man looked to him excitedly as he continued to speak. "That's mighty kind of you, stranger. What brings you here? You don't look like you're from around these parts."

"I'm a wanderer, going wherever my feet take me," Therion replied. Technically, that was true; his feet just so happened to be taking him on a mission this time around. "And there's nothing better than a tale ale and a good tale after a long day of traveling. If you don't mind my asking, who's this Orlick fellow you were talking about?"

"If you're that interested, we'll tell you all about him. Consider it thanks for the drinks," the second man told Therion with a wide grin. 

The first man nodded. "Orlick's the talk of the town right now."

"He's a scholar, and one I daresay went off the deep end. Holed himself up in the building on the edge of town," the second man said, picking right up where his companion left off. "Word is he's doing some kind of research and hasn't come out since."

The first man shrugged. "I heard he's investigating a stone, but nobody knows what for."

"It definitely sounds like he's got a few screws loose," Therion agreed. Confirmation was the best way to get people to keep talking, and he was going to play that to his advantage in every way he knew how. 

The second man laughed as he nodded. "You got that right! He's one you don't want to get involved with," he confirmed. He paused briefly before continuing. "Now that I think about it though... Didn't he have a research partner?"

The first man nodded after a moment of contemplation. "Yeah, I heard he was another eccentric one. I think he's still doing his research in town."

"What's his name?" Therion asked. 

The first man thought for a long time before he spoke uncertainly. "Barnram? Barhand? Barham? Yeah, that's it," he replied. "He worked in that manor with Orlick, but they went their separate ways after a disagreement."

"I guess they were too much for each other to handle," Therion muttered to himself, refusing to acknowledge the irony behind his words. 

"Sounds like it!" the first man proclaimed with a laugh. "Anyway, I hope that sates your curiosity, wanderer."

"It does. Thank you for your time, gentlemen," Therion said as he rose to his feet. He started off toward the door a moment later, a light smirk already playing at his lips from behind his scarf. This was just what he was looking for, and Barham was the perfect clue to lead him straight to Orlick. All he had to do was track the man down, and he could already tell that was going to be a breeze compared to trying to sneak into the manor. 

Finally, it seemed like the pieces were coming into place. Thank the gods for that. 

Chapter Text

Surprisingly, Therion was not the only one who wound up gathering some information about Barham during the group's time in the tavern. They had all split up to try and learn what they could, and while Therion had found the most success, the location of Barham's home still eluded him. Luckily, Tressa was able to swoop in when Therion was getting ready to ask around, and she said that she heard someone mention him offhand, saying that he lived on the south side of town in the residential district. She was beyond relieved to know that they were getting on with business properly without needing to do any more research into what they were trying to find, and with that, the group set off for the home Tressa had heard about. 

It took a short while for them to find Barham's residence specifically given just how many elaborate homes were in Noblecourt's residential district. Therion eventually resorted to reading the names on the mailboxes, and in the end, he was able to come back positive. As it turned out, Tressa wasn't kidding when she said that Barham lived on the south side of town; his house was the farthest one out from the town square. At least it was easy enough to identify if they had to come back for any reason in the future. 

Therion looked up at the house before he braced himself to enter with a grounding breath. "Let's see if he's home..." he murmured, reaching out to knock with one hand. He stepped back in preparation for the door to swing open, and the other travelers all shuffled back along with him. 

It didn't take long for the door to open, and a man appeared in the entryway to the building along with the sudden motion. He had dark hair that was mostly combed back cleanly, though a few strands were left to fly free. His robes were white with orange highlights, a sign that he was no doubt just as rich as the rumors had claimed. In other words, this had to be the man Therion was looking for, and the thief resisted the urge to smirk into his scarf at the knowledge that they had found their target. 

"Who's there?" Barham questioned, glancing around at the group gathered in front of his home. The paranoia in his voice quickly gave way to confusion, no doubt because he hadn't been expecting so many visitors. Given the location of his home and how out of the way it was, Therion wouldn't have been surprised if Barham hadn't been expecting anyone to come and see him at all. It was certainly the sort of place Therion would have never visited if he hadn't been given no other choice. 

"Someone looking for a man named Barham," Therion said simply, not bothering to elaborate beyond that. He could already tell that this had to be the man in question just based off appearances. Nobody who wasn't a scholar dressed that way, and nobody but the owner of the house would have had a reason to answer the door. 

Therion's theory was confirmed a moment later. "I'm Barham," the man replied, and Therion could hear just how strong the accent in his voice was. It was impossible to place, seemingly having influences from countless towns and cities across Orsterra. Therion ultimately gave up on trying to figure out where the man came from when Barham continued to speak. "What business do you have with me?"

"I heard you used to be Orlick's research partner. Is that true?" Therion questioned. He crossed his arms as he spoke, hoping that Barham didn't press him for information as to why he was searching for Orlick in the first place. He knew that conversation was bound to end poorly, and as far as Therion was concerned, he had more than enough troubles than explaining to Barham why he was trying to break open all the locks in Orlick's house. Or, to be more accurate, Therion didn't want to come up with some fabricated tale so that he wouldn't have to tell the truth. He didn't have time for it when the dragonstones were still out there waiting for him. 

Barham hesitated before he shook his head. "That was long, long ago. I have nothing to do with the man now, and all the better for it," he replied. "If that's all you came here for, you can leave now. Goodbye!" 

Barham was quick to try and step back into the house, attempting to swing the door shut as he made his hasty retreat. Therion caught the door with his foot, and Barham froze with his back to the thief. "Wait. Hear me out," Therion instructed calmly, doing his best to not accidentally startle the man deeper into his home. Barham turned around much to his surprise, and Therion took that as his cue to keep talking. "Orlick has something I need."

"And what's that?" Barham questioned, uneasiness starting to sink into his voice in full. Therion could have sworn he saw the man starting to tremble, leaving the thief to wonder just what had gone so sour in Barham's past business exchanges with Orlick to cause such primal responses of fear. 

"I'll give you a hint. It's the subject of his research," Therion said bluntly, not wanting to yield too much information too quickly. Thievery was like a chess game in more ways than one, and the last thing Therion was going to do was give up the advantage so early on. He had to navigate the battlefield carefully if he was going to succeed without too much hassle, and this seemed like as good a place to start as any. 

Barham understood what Therion was trying to say without needing any other explanation, and he let out a heavy sigh. "The ruby dragonstone," he muttered under his breath. 

Therion nodded. "That's the one."

Barham was surprisingly calm when he next spoke, his gaze directed solely at the ground. "I surmise you plan to take it from him," he remarked carefully, somehow remaining composed even in the face of someone who might as well have admitted to being a thief by this point. Therion didn't respond, but luckily, Barham wasn't waiting for him to say anything. "And you need my help."

Therion simply hummed his confirmation as Barham continued, speaking each deduction like he feared it was at risk of exploding at a moment's notice if he wasn't careful enough. "So you came to ask me how to get into his place," Barham went on, the caution in his voice never slipping. 

Therion smiled slyly in Barham's direction. "You scholars are quick on the uptake," he commented. He bit back a matching remark about how Barham's morality seemed to be quick to vanish as well; most people would have never even dreamed of agreeing to help a thief, but Barham actually seemed to be considering it judging by the fact that he hadn't slammed the door in Therion's face quite yet. 

Barham was quiet for a long moment, looking at Therion and then to the other travelers of his group. Barham's gaze immediately swiveled back to Therion before he let out a heavy sigh. "Hmph. Very well. I'll give you the answer you seek. You'll need a password to enter."

Now we're finally making progress. "And the password is...?" Therion prompted.

Barham let out a small chuckle, and Therion could already tell that he shouldn't have trusted the scholar to reveal the answer so easily. "Presumptuous, aren't we? I'll tell you on one condition," Barham said. 

Therion felt his stomach sink into his feet at that, but he shoved the thought out of his mind. "Let's hear it," he replied simply. This was his only option, and even if Barham's vague wording was already starting to bother him, he knew hearing the scholar out was his only choice to get the dragonstone for better or worse. 

He didn't move at all to prompt the noise, but Therion could have sworn he heard the fool's bangle jingle at that, and Therion was left to wonder not for the first time if the universe was just trying to mock him. 

"Get what I need for my experiment, and we'll call it a deal," Barham responded. 

Therion nodded, but he already had an awful feeling about how this was bound to turn out. "Sounds fair. What do you need?" he asked. 

"Pure water, filtered through the desert sands... The kind found only in the most pristine oases," Barham answered. 

If Therion had allowed himself to roll his eyes, it would have been the most dramatic gesture he had ever seen grace his features. "Silly me. I actually thought your demand was going to be reasonable," he said, his eyes narrowing in Barham's direction. He could have gone the intimidation route just to get this exchange over with as soon as possible, but he somehow doubted it was going to be quite so easy. 

Barham sighed in exasperation and shook his head. "It is, you fool. A merchant from the Sunlands oft comes to town selling this exact water," he explained. "However, this rarity doesn't come cheap."

Therion nodded. Having to steal something in exchange for the information about how to get the dragonstone was nothing; if anything, it was perfect. That fell right into his skillset, and it wouldn't take any time at all. He could only hope the merchant was as poor at sealing his pockets as the sellers had been back in Bolderfall. "Price is never my problem. Consider it done."

Barham nodded firmly before retreating back into his home, and Therion started to walk back to the center of town to look for the merchant in question. H'aanit just so happened to fall into pace with him, her two animal companions ever at her side. "So, how dost thou proposen to getten water from that merchant?" she questioned. 

Therion scoffed at that. "Do you have to ask? You know what I do for a living," he answered bluntly, not seeing a reason to draw out this exchange when the answer would be clear in the end anyway. 

"Thievery," H'aanit answered simply, the distaste in her voice falling off the word like poison dripping from the fangs of a viper. 

Therion's gaze shifted to something questioning at that. "Don't approve, do you?" he asked. The response was already obvious, but he found himself waiting for it regardless. 

"To speake truly, I doe not," H'aanit told him. 

Therion shrugged. That wasn't at all far from what he was expecting, and if anything, it just seemed to fall in line with everything he had come to understand about H'aanit and the other members of the party over the course of their time together. "Fair enough. It's no secret. What I do isn't exactly noble."

H'aanit held up one hand to silence him before he could go any further. "Though needest not defenden thyself. We aren comrades. I can putte my personal prejudices aside," she interjected. 

That was enough to give Therion pause, and his eyes widened for a brief moment before he pushed his gaze back down to the ground. H'aanit thought of him so highly despite her personal objections with his work. Therion felt something almost warm start to work its way up through his chest, but he did his best to shove it down before it could manifest in full. Instead, he allowed himself to crack a small smile, though he hid it behind his scarf. It had been a long time since anyone thought of him in such a way, and he honestly didn't know how he was supposed to respond to it. "Comrades, eh?" he murmured. 

H'aanit raised an eyebrow in his direction, critical curiosity finding its way into her features. "Did I saye something odd?" she inquired. 

"No," Therion said before he could allow his words to get away from him. If there was one thing he couldn't afford to do under these circumstances, it was think about the past. All it would do was hold him back, and he had a mission to take care of. H'aanit didn't need to know how close she had come to striking a nerve, and Therion didn't need to bring it up to begin with. "Never mind..."

The group had arrived at the town square by the time Therion and H'aanit were finished speaking, and people were bustling about as always. Therion resisted the urge to roll his eyes because of how many people were present, but he knew he had no choice if he wanted to get the water and report back to Barham. He let out a silent sigh and charged into the crowds once again, praying that this was less painful than he was already starting to think it would be. 

Fortune was smiling upon Therion that day though, and he perked up when he saw a man with tanned skin dressing in typical Sunlands attire with his head covered in fabric to block out the overpowering sunlight and his clothing thin to cope with the heat. He was standing behind a booth with a bottle in one hand, and the fluid inside was no doubt exactly what Therion was looking for. He allowed himself to mix with the people around him as he looked up to the merchant when the man began to speak. 

"Come one, come all! I present to you the most precious and refreshing beverage in the realm!" the merchant declared proudly. "Oasis water, all-natural and free of even the slightest impurities! One sip and you'll taste the difference! You there! How about a drink?"

The man had pointed out another figure in the crowd, and the two began to talk about the prices for the so-called sweetest beverage in Orsterra. Therion simply shook his head. If the merchant was going to make his presence that obvious, then stealing the water was bound to be a piece of cake. 

Sure enough, Therion was able to snag a bottle without any issues at all, and as soon as it was in his hands, he tucked the water out of sight. Nobody had noticed him growing so close to the stand, and they certainly hadn't spotted him grabbing the water and making a quick yet subtle retreat from the area. He nodded to the others in his party before he started to make his way back to Barham's house. That had been so easy it was almost sad, and now, it was time for them to get some actual answers about how to sneak into Orlick's mansion. 

The walk back to Barham's home was much shorter given that they knew where they were going, and Therion knocked on the door once they arrived. A muffled voice from inside told them to enter, and Therion walked in with the others hot on his heels. Inside, Barham could be seen standing at a counter. A scale was balanced nearby, and a beaker could be seen suspended over a crackling fire. There were many pages scattered about both on tables and the floor, and Therion couldn't help but think of it as a disaster in the making. Despite this, Barham moved around with a practiced ease as he worked on his current experiment, and Therion realized that this was a breed of organized chaos that allowed Barham to function decently well even if it would only serve to confuse all others who dared to enter the house, Therion included. The thief shook his head inwardly; he didn't think he would ever understand scholars. 

"I hope you're thirsty," Therion said, sliding the small bottle of oasis water across the counter to where Barham was working. 

The scholar jumped in fright for a moment before he got a handle on himself once again, and he examined the bottle carefully, almost as if he was trying to make sure Therion wasn't deceiving him somehow. Therion once again tried to not roll his eyes. All he wanted was to get this over with, and Barham's shuffling was only dragging it out unnecessarily. "That was faster than I expected," Barham admitted, but he seemed willing to admit that it was in fact legitimate after a few moments more of observation. 

Barham turned back to his experiment, and he began to open the bottle before pouring some of its contents out into the beaker waiting before him. Therion's foot tapped with impatience. "I fulfilled my half of the bargain. Now tell me the password," he instructed, trying his best to keep the snarl out of his voice but only partially succeeding. 

Barham looked up to Therion and shook his head. "Now, now. Your half is fulfilled when I say it's fulfilled," he told the thief firmly. 

Therion crossed his arms, past the point of any sense of formality, and glared at Barham. "I see what's happening here," he muttered crossly. He wanted to punch the scholar then and there, but he knew that wasn't going to be an option. As long as he needed to get into that mansion, he was going to have to do as Barham instructed. Therion couldn't help but wish all scholars were as upstanding as Cyrus, though he supposed even that was relative given his companion's habits of interrogation. 

"I should hope so. I'll need a few more things for my experiment, if you would be so kind," Barham said, his voice light and airy. He didn't seem to mind Therion's frustration in the slightest, and if he did care about the havoc he was wreaking on Therion internally, he chose to not show it. 

"Thieves are notorious for being kind. How can I help you?" Therion questioned, his voice dry as could be. He clung to the mental image of punching Barham to try and rid himself of his frustrations with being played for a fool. It didn't work, and Therion's glare only grew more intense as the seconds crawled on. 

Barham continued to make his way throughout the room working on this mystery experiment of his, but Therion didn't fully know what he was trying to do. The thief supposed it didn't matter much anyways; he just had to make sure Barham was able to finish this obnoxious task of his as soon as possible. "I require a wyvern scale. Can you procure one for me?" Barham asked, seemingly not at all minding just how much he was upsetting his brief partner in business exchanges. Therion wondered if Barham was doing it on purpose just to rile him up; he wouldn't have been surprised if that was the case. 

"I don't know. Where can I find one?" Therion inquired, already praying that this wasn't going to take him out of Noblecourt. He preferred to only come through Noblecourt once if it was at all possible, and it would be best if there was a scale waiting in town for his sticky fingers to snatch up. Therion couldn't tell what exactly he was going to be able to expect though. Barham had already proven himself to be somewhat obnoxious to work with, and Therion couldn't imagine the scholar getting better with annoying people until well after this mission was over. 

"They're sold in town from time to time. Wyvern scales are highly prized by scholars as a reagent, and they carry a price to match," Barham explained. Therion was starting to get a greater picture of the scholar he was working with; Barham had great ambitions but lacked the funds necessary to actually follow through with his dreams. Therion was simply the proxy through which he could carry out his wishes while maintaining his reputation. Therion was just glad he didn't care at all about keeping people from hating him. All he wanted was for people to know just how great a thief he was, and grabbing some water and a wyvern scale would hardly tarnish everything he had spent so many years working toward. 

"I'm noticing a trend here," Therion said under his breath instead of offering his full commentary on what he thought of Barham. After all, he didn't want to completely cut off this business venture because he allowed his temper to get away from him, not when they were so close to being able to get into Orlick's manor. "But yes, I can get it for you."

"Good. I'm counting on you," was all Barham said before he turned back to his work. He began to navigate his way through the next few steps of the experiment, and once again, Therion was left at a loss when trying to determine what exactly Barham was trying to accomplish. It didn't matter though; as long as he was able to get the damn scale and force Barham to tell him the password, everything would fall into place. That was the hope, anyway, but Therion was starting to have less faith in it as time went by. But what other choice did he have? It wasn't as if another lead was going to fall into his lap this way, so he just had to grin and bear it no matter how much he hated the circumstances. 

Therion gestured for everyone else to follow him, and he began to trudge through town once again. He hadn't heard anything about wyvern scales during his previous passes through the main merchant quarter of Noblecourt, so he was going to have to search elsewhere. He could only hope it wouldn't take too long, but he didn't want to think too optimistically for the time being. He shoved his hands into his pocket and decided to walk to the other side of town where the tavern could be found. 

Tressa sighed in relief as the group went by the tavern without walking inside, and Therion found his mind drifting to the difference between Orlick and Barham. Orlick's mansion was massive and had far too much room for one person, and on top of that, Orlick was able to afford an armed guard to look after the research he was doing within those secluded walls. Barham, on the other hand, was associating with a thief to try and get his hands on the items needed for his experiments. To Therion, it was a strange twist of irony. He wondered if Barham would have been equally insufferable if he was the one with the massive mansion. Therion was glad he didn't have to find out the answer to that question though. The Barham he was already dealing with was obnoxious enough as it was, and he could only imagine Orlick was going to be worse. After all, nothing he ever did was easy, and Noblecourt was quickly proving itself to be just as much of a pain in the ass as ever. 

There was a man standing away from the rest of the crowd near what appeared to be the gate of an ornate mansion. Nobody had come to occupy the building in a while though, and Therion could see just how desolate it was based on how much the plants in the garden were starting to overgrow and compete with one another for the sun's attention. The merchant was dressed in much more elaborate clothing than anyone around, and that was all Therion needed to know to be able to catch onto the fact that this was his target. He certainly looked like the sort of man who would carry wyvern scales and sell them when given the chance. 

The man had taken to counting his leaves, hence why he was standing away from the rest of the crowd. Judging by how many coins there were, Therion could only assume that he had gotten all that money by charging more than what was worth it for his precious wares, and the thief resisted the urge to roll his eyes for what felt like the thousandth time that day. It was good to know that Noblecourt was still just as frustrating as ever, and he meant that in the worst way possible. As soon as his mission was finished here, he never wanted to come back, and he meant that with every bone in his body. 

Stealing from this merchant was considerably less easy than taking from the stall had been, but Therion wasn't going to let that stop him. He was still able to see the wyvern scale peeking out of one of the merchant's pockets in his massive bag, and Therion made a quick shot for it when the man grew overly distracted with counting his money. Therion looked down at it just to make sure it was the real deal before he returned to where the rest of the group was waiting for him nearby. He was glad they had enough common sense to stay in the crowd to refrain from drawing too much attention to what Therion had to do. 

Therion started to walk back in the direction of Barham's home, and he found himself getting more frustrated with each step toward the scholar's base of operations. He felt as if he had been dragged around by his ear ever since arriving in Noblecourt, and to say that he was sick of it would have been an understatement. He somehow doubted Barham was going to let his precious thieving pet go so easily when he had such a long shopping list, and Therion ultimately braced himself to be turned around and pushed out the door to go and grab something else the scholar was looking for. Even if that seemed inevitable though, Therion hated it, and he painted a glare on his face as he opened the door to the house without bothering to knock. If Barham wanted him to be polite, he would stop sending Therion on petty fetch quests. 

"I got what you asked for," Therion said bluntly. He set the wyvern scale down before sliding it over to Barham nonchalantly. The back of his mind bitterly reminded him that he had been in this same position not even half an hour beforehand, but Therion did his best to silence that voice before he said something he was bound to regret. 

Barham picked up the wyvern scale before it could fall off the countertop. He was still messing around with the same beaker and fire he had been when Therion first arrived, and the thief wondered angrily what the hell could be so interesting about something that seemed so normal. "Perfect. You're quite good at your craft," Barham commented as he held the wyvern scale up to the light, examining it carefully. He already seemed to have decided it was the real deal, and Barham's eyes told Therion that he thought the thief had a sense of honor for not having attempted to deceive him. Therion inwardly noted how he was a thief, not a con man; if somebody else wanted to scam Barham, they would be more than free to do so, but that person was not going to be Therion, not as long as he needed the password to get into Orlick's damn mansion.

"I need a password, not praise," Therion told him, offering a loose gesture to seem casual despite the spite starting to bubble up in his stomach. He could already tell Barham was going to ask for something else, and even though he had been ready for it, that did little to temper his frustration. 

"And I need just one more thing," Barham said. On one hand, Therion was relieved this would be the last thing he had to get for Barham. On the other, he wondered if the man was really to be trusted. Therion bit back a complaint about not being here to be dragged around by Barham's flimsy desires, but he knew that would get him nowhere. He was still here for the password, and he couldn't get distracted so close to the end of his mission. 

"Remind me: who's the crook here?" Therion questioned dryly despite his silent warnings. He glanced over to the other members of the group out of the corner of his eye. It seemed none of them were willing to negotiate with Barham after all he had done up to this point, not that Therion could blame them. He just wished he wasn't the one left to deal with it when push came to shove. 

"That's a fine attitude to have if you don't want the password," Barham replied coolly, not bothering to rise to the bait as he continued going about his business. He poured something into the beaker above the fire, refusing to look Therion in the eye. 

Therion sighed in resignation. He had seen it coming, but that didn't mean he liked the retort. "Okay. But this is the last one."

Barham nodded. "Yes, I promise. It's a special type of ore--metallic in nature but crystal clear," he began to explain. "Once I have it, I can begin my experiment."

Therion shook his head. "Music to my ears," he muttered. He was starting to get tired of Barham's accent and all he demands it brought to him. He felt like he needed a drink break before going to Orlick's mansion with how frustrating this situation had become even though he knew that wasn't feasible. 

Therion started for the door soon afterward, recognizing that Orlick had nothing more to say. "Come on," he told everyone else, allowing them to fall in line behind him. He was itching to use his dagger in combat, and he calmed himself only at the idea that his encounter with Orlick had a full possibility of coming to that. Either he was able to get out his hatred for Barham on the even more frustrating scholar in Noblecourt or he would get the ruby dragonstone without any issues. Either way, it was a win for him as long as he never had to speak to Barham again. 

I hate Noblecourt. 

Chapter Text

The journey through Noblecourt to attain the crystal ore for Barham was bound to be a simple one, but Therion frowned and shuffled his feet the whole way. He was hoping the scholar would actually keep to his word and not ask him for anything else after this, but Therion knew it was best to not dream about such things for the time being. He was exhausted already, and getting his hopes up was only going to drag him down more.

Once again, the fool's bangle continued to jingle with each movement Therion made, and even as he shoved his hands as deep into his pockets as they would go, he could still hear the sound. He didn't think it was ever going to leave him alone at this rate, and that did nothing but worsen his mood. He was glaring down at the ground just in front of his feet, trying to take out his anger silently so he didn't feel the burning urge to punch Barham and dislocate the man's nose as soon as they saw one another. The fool's bangle was too loud in his ears, and he was desperate to block out the noise even though it just kept getting louder inside. 

Before Therion knew it, Alfyn had come to fall into pace beside him, and Therion perked up at the sight of him. This was enough of a distraction to block out the obnoxious noise for at least a little bit, and he was beyond relieved to have been given the chance to snap himself out of it briefly. Therion hadn't realized he was ever going to be put in the situation of wanting to talk to Alfyn, but he supposed there was a first time for everything. 

"Stealin' here, stealin' there, stealin' pretty much everywhere... Heck, you thieves sure do work hard," Alfyn smiled. He was clearly trying to seem personable enough to make Therion open up, but the thief didn't say much as he continued to stare at the place where his feet made contact with the cobblestone below. 

Alfyn still kept talking even though Therion was keeping up his silent. "And you're one of the best, right? You gotta have a massive stack of treasure hidden away," he went on, his grin still just as present as ever. Therion didn't know how Alfyn was able to stay so positive no matter what he was faced with; it was a bit uncanny, but Therion found himself oddly okay with it. Under most circumstances, he would have expected to hate being around anyone who was even remotely similar to Alfyn, but something about him was oddly charming, and it felt like the background noise that had become all too prominent in Therion's mind was finally starting to subside, even if it was just for a few moments. 

Therion was able to pull out a coin subtly, and he flipped it with his thumb before catching it in midair and tucking it away out of sight once again a moment later. "Let's just say I'm prepared for retirement," he said simply. He did have a stockpile of leaves to act as a collective signal of victory from his past thieving exploits, but he kept stealing for the sake of his own entertainment. He enjoyed it, and what else was he supposed to do with his time? It wasn't like he had anything else to do. 

He wished he hadn't had that thought process when he went to Ravus Manor, but it was too late for him to regret that now. 

Alfyn smiled at that, but Therion could see his grin falter at the edges. "I... I see," he began to say, seemingly struggling to find something to say to someone so radically different from him. Alfyn didn't let this brief moment of awkwardness stop him though, and he kept going after just a few beats of hesitation and silence. "Anyway, one more task and our job's done! Light at the end of the tunnel, eh?" His grin had come back full force already, and Therion was left to wonder just how much passion and optimism could possibly fit into a single person. 

That didn't stop Therion from snorting at Alfyn's words though. "'Our?' It's not like you're doing any thieving," Therion pointed out, though he supposed none of the other members of the group were doing the heavy lifting. Hell, they weren't even helping him when it came to putting up with Barham, and while Therion couldn't blame them and certainly didn't hold it against them, that didn't change just how frustrating it could get to do all of this alone. 

Alfyn didn't let Therion's snarky comment stop him though, instead simply continuing to smile his way through the rest of their conversation the same way he always had. "Anyway, when the job's done, what say we go hit the tavern? I think we could all use a break after this, huh?" 

Therion couldn't help but agreeing with that. He most certainly did want a break, but it didn't have much to do with the job at hand. Barham was certainly one factor in his frustration, but the larger issue bothering him was the conclusion he had come to before the mission began. Therion shoved the thought aside though; getting distracted would only hold back his aptitude on the upcoming mission, and he didn't want to falter now. 

Regardless of the way his mind was spinning, Therion allowed himself to look into Alfyn's eyes, realizing just how calm he felt as long as he was able to spend time with the apothecary. He gave himself the chance to smile behind his scarf. "Sure. One mug... Your treat."

Alfyn seemed satisfied with that, and the smile that appeared on his face was so bright and passionate that it seemed fully capable of blocking out the sun. "I'll be looking forward to it. I hope we're able to wrap everything up with Orlick soon then," he replied. Everything about him was so perfectly friendly that it didn't even seem real. Therion felt something warm start to blossom in his chest, and he once again tried to hide in his scarf while simultaneously trying to convince Alfyn silently that was the opposite of what he was doing. 

Either way, Alfyn didn't seem to mind, simply keeping that ridiculous yet sweet smile plastered on his face as he kept walking. Therion took a few moments to try and compose himself, and he was glad he and Alfyn were at the front of the party's group so no one could see his face. He was equally relieved Primrose wasn't there to poke fun at him for getting embarrassed over something so small and ridiculous. That's what the entire situation was. Therion shouldn't have even been in this position to begin with. He shouldn't have been in Noblecourt putting up with obnoxious scholars or the ridiculous demands of butlers with too much knowledge of how the back-alleys worked, but there he was anyways. 

Therion was able to find the merchant selling the ore without any issues as soon as he stopped letting himself get distracted by Alfyn's all too charming and conversational ways. He silently denied that Alfyn was charming at all as he honed in on the target, easily able to snag a crystal ore without the seller noticing anything was happening. He was too focused setting up his booth within the merchant square to realize anyone had even gotten close to him, and Therion was silently thankful so many people in Noblecourt didn't know how to look after their belongings. With that, he gestured for the rest of the group to follow him back in the direction of Barham's home, Alfyn shooting him a flash of a smile and a thumbs-up along the way. Therion dug a hole deeper in his scarf in response. 

Luckily, his brief moment of being flustered by Alfyn's nonchalant behavior didn't last much longer than a few seconds, as once he had opened the door to Barham's home, Therion found himself holding back a bitter sigh. He set the crystal ore down on the counter next to the scholar, barely managing to restrain a glare as he watched the scholar continue to go about his regular work. "I got what you asked for," Therion said. Once again, he was over come with a sensation that he had been here before, and he absolutely despised it. He slid it across the counter casually, putting a bit too much force behind the action. "Catch."

Barham fumbled to try and grab at the stone before it could fall to the ground, his face growing all too pale at the idea of his treasure shattering. "C-Careful with that!" He examined the crystal carefully before smiling. His concern melted away as soon as he was struck with the revelation that he actually had something so valuable in his hands, and he smiled down at the ore. "Anyhow, thank you. At last I can begin my grand experiment!"

Barham turned back to his work, and Therion glared at his back. He wasn't able to hold back his frustration this time, and it felt as if the dam was finally snapping under the weight of the crap Barham had been pulling since they met. "Aren't you forgetting something, old man? You promised me a password," Therion practically snarled. 

Barham nodded but did not look up from his work. "Cool your heels! The experiment comes first!" he exclaimed. He approached the scale and set the ore down on it, measuring the weight of it with a critical gaze and a careful touch. 

Therion crossed his arms, shooting Barham a roll of his eyes. "I hope you don't think you can swindle a swindler," he said, his voice low yet filled with rage. Every word held a new threat, but he didn't allow himself to say such openly. Therion should have known better than to let himself believe Barham would uphold his end of the bargain so easily, but that didn't change the fact that he was beyond frustrated with himself for actually falling for it. He shouldn't have let his hope get the better of him; pessimism had brought him this far, hadn't it? 

"Don't be ridiculous," Barham instructed of him, exasperation lacing his words. "Just be patient, and I'll uphold my end of the bargain!" He didn't even glance in Therion's direction for a second, too focused on going about his miscellaneous business to bother. It was like he thought of the thief who had done so much for him as little more than an afterthought, and Therion's eyes once again narrowed in his direction. Part of him dreamed of slamming Barham up against the wall just for the sake of taking out his pent-up aggression on something, but he knew that wasn't going to happen, not as long as he still needed the damn password. 

The ruby dragonstone had better be worth all this damn trouble.

Therion's grip on his arms grew tight as he watched Barham continue to go about his work. He could see Cyrus was on the verge of saying something, but he was interrupted a moment later when Barham continued to speak. "Orlick and I have known each other since our years at the academy. We acquired that manor together as a place to continue our research," Barham explained. He was moving so quickly with effortless grace that Therion could barely keep track of him. "But he changed after coming across that dragonstone."

"How did you figure out it was a dragonstone to begin with?" Therion countered. It was a question he had been bouncing around in his head for a while, and he figured this was as good a time to ask as any. 

"The subject of our research was magical artifacts, and the dragonstones are the greatest among them," Barham replied without missing a beat. He raised a small vial up to the light before swirling its contents around gently, his eyes cast down to the fire, seemingly not to be deterred in sharing his tale. "After we found the dragonstone... It was almost like he was possessed, his life consumed by his research. He wouldn't let anyone get near him, not even me..."

Therion couldn't help but pause at that, his posture growing tense. He knew all too well what it was like to be betrayed by a partner. He shifted his gaze over to where Alfyn and the rest of the group were standing. He didn't want to be betrayed yet again after all he had been through. He had learned in the past that trust was dangerous, always a gamble waiting to explode the moment you were least expecting it. It was a risk Therion would have never taken had he been given the choice to get out of it. 

But he wasn't given a choice, and instead, he found himself getting more attached to the other travelers as time went by. His nails dug into his upper arm, and he desperately wished the topic would change to anything but the tragedy of Orlick and Barham. He could already tell how it was going to end, and he hated it from the bottom of his heart. 

Therion could only hope history didn't repeat itself with him as the victim once again. 

Barham didn't seem to notice Therion's brief hesitation though, instead glancing up with a small smile on his face. Everything about his expression was sad and bittersweet. "That's why I want to help you get that stone away from him," Barham confessed. "It's not meant to be held by our hands..."

Therion glanced down at the ground, his hardened glare softening. Barham hadn't exactly been doing him much help up to that point, but Therion found his chest twisting with sympathy for Barham's situation. He understood it all too well, and regardless of the frustrations Barham had put him through, Therion knew he wasn't going to be able to stay upset with him forever, not as long as there were so many direct parallels between them. 

Once again, Therion wondered if the universe just enjoyed making him miserable. 

Barham didn't look over to Therion as he next spoke, instead evenly looking at the wall ahead. "The password is 'the truth of all things,'" he said softly, every word sacred and dripping with sincerity. Perhaps Barham had recognized just how similar he and Therion were as well even if he didn't openly acknowledge it. 

Therion perked up at that, and he nodded gently. "'The truth of all things...' That's easy enough to remember," he commented simply. 

"Yes," Barham replied. "And take this with you too."

Barham turned around and approached Therion, pressing a small object into the thief's palm a moment later. Therion examined it carefully, seeming the way it gleamed purple in the limited lighting of the room. His eyes narrowed. "This is a key," he remarked bluntly. He could recognize the shine of the object easily as matching the appearance of the crystal, and when he glanced over, he could see that the oasis water, wyvern scale, and ore had all disappeared. That was all Therion needed to see to know what had taken place. "You used those materials to make this."

Barham nodded. "You're a natural-born researcher, boy," he smiled, though Therion admittedly had a few doubts about that. Therion's silent uncertainty didn't stop Barham from continuing though. "Now, the password will get you into the mansion, but the door to the laboratory can only be opened with that key."

Therion looked down at the key for a long moment, realizing just how specialized the edge of it was. That would have made it difficult to pick, and that would have lost him valuable time when it came to snagging the stone. He was impressed that Barham was even able to put together something so particular to begin with, but he knew it was because Barham wanted the ruby dragonstone to be as far away from Orlick the same way Therion did. They had different motivations, yes, but the fact of the matter remained the same in both cases. 

Therion finished staring at his new gift after a few seconds, and he glanced up to Barham once again. "Makes you think he doesn't want anyone getting in. Not even an old friend like you," Therion remarked. 

Barham sagged slightly at that. "Yes... We may have disagreed from time to time, but Orlick is still like a brother to me. My warnings may have been nothing but noise to him, but... I wouldn't be much of an older brother if I didn't nag from time to time," he murmured. He shook his head before looking up to Therion once again. "Passion is important in our line of work, but there's a fine line between that and obsession, and Orlick's crossed that line."

Therion shoved down the idea of just how similar a certain past situation had been to what he was currently faced with as he spoke once again. This was hardly the time for him to get caught up in his own thoughts, after all. The dragonstone was still waiting for him. "So this moving friendship--or maybe, brotherly love--is why you're so willing to help me?" Therion asked, pretending it wasn't just a distraction from everything else spinning around in his mind. 

Barham contemplated his response for a long time, and Therion could already tell the answer was going to be complicated. "I wonder. Perhaps it's jealousy or hatred that's come to drive me," he said, his tone strangely nonchalant for such a heavy subject. "But those bygone days are precious to me even now. I know what I feel is true." He walked over to the counter where he had previously been working, thinking about everything he was saying for a long moment. The tension in the air was so thick that Therion could have cut it with his dagger if he so decided. 

Therion shook his head, unwilling to yield any hints as to what was going through his head. "Tugs the ol' heartstrings," he commented instead, desperate to push all of this as far away from his train of thought as possible. "But my own reasons are more than enough to go through with this." He started to walk for the door, his hand reaching out for the knob. "Thanks." 

As soon as Therion's fingers grew close to the door, something in the back of his mind began to stir despite his attempts to shove it down. It seemed Noblecourt was still more than fully intent on opening old wounds, and he didn't think he was going to be able to get away from it this time. His fingers were shaking, and he was glad he had reached for the door with the hand that didn't have the bangle. Masking a noise like that would have been damn near impossible. 

But trying to hide the fool's bangle from the world was the last thing on Therion's mind as he began to step backward through time. All this talk of friends, brothers, and partners had come a bit too close to home for him, and while Therion wanted his mind to be quiet, he knew that was never going to happen. Instead, he simply surrendered himself to his own memories, praying that perhaps he would be able to escape all of this eventually if he just let it run its course. 

That was the hope, at the very least. Who knew if that would actually happen?

~~~~~

Therion and Darius were running through the streets of some town or another. Therion had forgotten which one it was after they arrived, and truth be told, he didn't particularly care enough to find out. He was much more focused on trying to get away from the city's police force so he wasn't tossed in another cell. He had managed to escape being caught since the night he first met Darius, but if he wasn't careful, he was going to wind up stumbling right into another awful situation. He preferred to keep his record of freedom going for as long as possible, and he wasn't going to let the guards of a city he couldn't even remember the name of get in the way of that. 

Therion only stopped running when the pounding of footsteps behind him drew to a close. He paused and listened closely before sighing, the hair over his face adjusting itself with his breath. "I think we're in the clear."

Darius let out a hearty laugh at that. "Those Cianno bastards finally got what they deserved!" he declared all too loudly and all too proudly. Then again, those were two words that could be used to describe Darius in every situation. He didn't know the definition of the word humble, not that Therion would ever ask him to. Darius had every right to be so confident in his skills, and Therion wasn't going to be the one to pull him down from his perch. 

Darius continued to speak, and he kicked a small pebble with a scuff of his boot. The rock went skipping and tumbling before coming to a stop out of sight of the pair. "Always struttin' around like they bleedin' own the place..." he muttered crossly. "I wish I could see their faces when they realize someone beat them to it. No matter how hard they look now, they'll never find our treasure."

The reason they had come here at all was because of a passive rivalry Darius held with this Cianno group, a band of thieves known for stealing anything they thought was valuable enough for them to want their grubby hands on. When Darius heard they were going after something of note near where he and Therion were, they immediately packed up and set out for the new destination. They were lucky enough to be able to beat the Cianno thieves there, and from there, it had been a simple operation. Therion didn't know much about the group, but he admittedly didn't want to. They could do whatever the hell they wanted as long as he was able to continue thieving on his own terms. As long as he and Darius were together, they were going to be fine. 

Therion scoffed as he examined the countless riches they had managed to pick up from their latest heist. He felt like he was practically glowing in the presence of so much gold, and the gemstones lining the valuables certainly didn't hurt in the slightest. "Something this rare would be wasted on them anyway," he pointed out, holding up the necklace he was balancing on his pointer finger. It was lined in expensive sapphires, and supposedly, there were only a few of its kind in existence. In other words, it had been an easy grab for Therion, and the Cianno group had been left to eat his dust. 

"You said it," Darius agreed with a hearty laugh. "Now we'll just sell this gem and--"

"Wait," Therion cut in. 

"Something wrong?" Darius inquired, his voice edging on something dangerous. The risk only lurked beneath the surface though, and anyone who didn't know better would have thought there was nothing wrong to begin with. 

"Where are the gold coins we stole? We said we'd split the spoils," Therion reminded him, pulling the gem on the necklace a little bit closer to his chest. 

Darius was silent for half a beat before he began to laugh. "Sharp as a tack, aren't ye?" he asked even though they both already knew the answer. "It's not much, so I thought I'd just hold onto it and buy you a tiddly later."

It was clear that Darius was lying, but Therion didn't want to push it. He still had the vague imprint of bruises on his right arm from the last time he tried to pry into something Darius didn't want him involved with. Therion instead simply set his expression into something solemn yet unreadable. He didn't know when him and Darius romping around the continent doing as they pleased turned into a waltz for something greater--to stay out of danger--but he was tired of asking questions. He had given up on that a long time ago. After all, this was what he had always wanted, right? Something resembling love. "I see," Therion said bluntly. "Then let's celebrate with this tonight." Therion pulled a bottle out of his pouch, the label claiming it was a fine wine imported from the far reaches of the Sunlands. Therion wasn't old enough to drink yet, but he had been indulging in the wonders of alcohol ever since he met Darius. His companion had been enjoying them even longer. 

Darius was all too happy to grin brightly at Therion's show of the drink, though something dark could be seen lurking beneath the surface. There was always something more when it came to Darius; Therion simply hadn't been able to see it the first time they met. But it was fine. This was just how Darius was. This was what love was supposed to be like, and that was all there was to it. "Yeah, let's!" Darius exclaimed, and Therion did his best to forget about everything that was creeping in from the corners of his mind to tell him there was something wrong. After all, Darius was his friend. Hell, Darius was more than that, and Therion knew it. There was no reason to believe anything Darius did would ever mean to hurt him on purpose... Right? 

Therion was careful when he gestured for Darius to follow him back to the spot they had deemed their temporary hideout for as long as they were in town. "But don't let your guard down," he reminded Darius. Out of the two of them, Darius was the only one actually capable of getting drunk. Therion hadn't ever been able to even come close to losing his inhibitions, though he supposed that was for the best. Someone had to make sure Darius didn't get into any trouble when he got too tipsy, right?

Darius nodded, though he didn't truly seem to be acknowledging what Therion had to say. The thief's shoulders grew tense, and his grip on the bottle and necklace went tight. "The Ciannos will come for revenge at some point. They call themselves thieves, but they'll resort to violence if need be," Therion reminded Darius. He didn't know much about the group, but their reputation for vengeance was something that more than preceded them. If they thought something had been taken from them, they would do everything they had to in order to reclaim it. Therion had been wary about getting involved with a group so dangerous, but Darius had told him to just go along with it. Darius was good at convincing Therion when he had to; such was the way of their relationship, Therion had learned. That was simply how they functioned, and he doubted it would ever change. 

Darius waved him off with a simple flick of his hand. "I know. Thanks for lookin' out, partner," Darius told him. The weight of the word was difficult to articulate, and Therion didn't think he knew what it meant anymore. At one point, they had simply been affiliates when it came to thieving, partners in facing a world that had turned its back on them so long ago. As of late, it had come to be heavier than he realized, and its power seemed to hang over his shoulders like a building on the verge of collapse. 

Therion shrugged off his worries the same way he always did, not that he would ever admit it. "No problem. Now let's get moving."

Therion walked ahead as Darius paused for a moment. The redheaded thief watched Therion for a few beats before he shook his head and trailed after him. Therion chose to not see it; he had done that a lot as of late when it came to Darius' more questionable actions. Even when Therion was the one receiving the brunt of Darius' upset, he simply shoved it aside. After all, that was what partners did, right? They looked out for each other even when it wasn't easy. 

The next morning, the bruises on Therion's arm were fresh. 

~~~~~

When Therion finally snapped back to reality, it took him a long time to realize he was no longer in the town he was never able to remember the name of. He shook his head, looking down at the key in his hand and doing his best to pretend he had been examining it that entire time to make himself look a bit less suspicious. He didn't think anyone had bought his ruse, but he ultimately decided there were more important things to be done than thinking about Darius. After all, that was the past, and this was the present. 

If anything, this only made Therion feel worse about the idea of Alfyn's sunshine smile doing so much to break through his defenses. The other travelers weren't much better, but Alfyn's grin stuck with Therion for reasons he couldn't describe. Everything about the other members of the group was so different from how his relationship with Darius had been, and Alfyn seemed to be the exact opposite of his former partner. The word felt like poison in the back of Therion's mind, but he couldn't allow himself to succumb to the sickness as long as there was work to be done. 

Therion walked out a moment later, and the rest of the group trailed after him. He could feel their eyes on him, but he pretended to not notice. He had gotten good when it came to pretending he didn't see what was happening in plain sight. After all, how else would he have gotten this far? 

A thief who chose to not see... What a twisted, sickening paradox he was. 

Chapter Text

The manor at the edge of town continued to tower over Noblecourt as the party drew nearer, and Therion glared at the peaks of the building as he walked in its direction. At the very least, he was glad that Barham had been willing to help him, and he could say that he at least had one other person on his side outside of his current traveling party. He would hardly say it had been worth the difficulties that came with Noblecourt's general existence as far as he was concerned, but it was a step in the right direction given all the frustrations the town had offered him before. 

Orlick was bound to be yet another irritation in a long line, and Therion would have been lying if he said he was at all looking forward to seeing what was going to come of this next. He could tell that if Orlick was firm enough in his ideals to toss out his research partner, he wasn't going to be letting go of the dragonstone quite so easily. In other words, it seemed like it was just a matter of time before Therion was forced to raise his dagger in combat. At the very least, this wouldn't be a fight to death, and after what had happened with Rufus, that was an improvement. It did leave Therion wondering just how awful his life had become if he was glad to not have to fight for the right to continue breathing each time he marched off to combat, but he knew there wasn't an easy way to answer that question. In the end, he decided that finding a solution to the problem wasn't worth it and would only serve to add another layer of frustration on top of everything else Noblecourt seemed intent on doing to damage his sense of self-esteem. 

Cyrus wound up falling into step alongside Therion as the mansion continued to get closer, and Therion glanced over in his direction. "I'm glad you're not like Orlick," he muttered under his breath. He wouldn't say that he knew much about Cyrus given how different they were as people, but at the very least, he could say with confidence that the scholar he was traveling with was far from being the same as the one who was holding the ruby dragonstone with such feverish obsession. 

Cyrus perked up at Therion's words with a small smile on his face, though Therion couldn't quite read what Cyrus was trying to get across. "The pursuit of knowledge is a difficult path to traverse," he said simply. "One must always walk a fine line so as to not slip into obsession. Orlick... It seems as if his passion has become his downfall."

"If he's not going to hand over the dragonstone easily, then we're just going to have to take it," Therion told him. "I hope you're ready to take him down, because I doubt he's going to just roll over and let us take the stone without any consequences."

Cyrus nodded. "Of course. I refuse to allow his actions to bring harm to any of us," he assured Therion firmly, and once again, the thief felt a sensation that seemed a lot like foreign belonging rise in his chest. It was odd to have someone looking after him, and Cyrus was hardly the sort who Therion would have expected to say such a thing. 

Therion was so stunned by Cyrus' words that he didn't seem to realize that the scholar had started to speak again until a few moments later. "I wonder if the dragonstone has any qualities that could contribute to Orlick's shift in behavior," he murmured. "When we were around the sapphire dragonstone in Bolderfall, I couldn't help but notice how oddly captivating it was... The dragonstones hold great magical power, and perhaps it can act as a poison if someone is around them too much."

That caught Therion off guard, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized Cyrus probably had a point. The dragonstone had been in a secluded corner of Ravus Manor, and the guards that were meant to look after the stones were stationed a small distance away. It would make sense if that was because Cordelia and Heathcote were trying to ensure nobody fell under the influence of the mysterious power contained within the gems. "So Orlick getting so close to the jewel..." he began to whisper. 

"It could be doing something to taint his way of thinking, yes," Cyrus finished for him. "It would hardly surprise me if his sudden shift to obsession had something to do with the dragonstone itself. After all, the gems are endlessly powerful, and a strength like that... It would be more than enough to catch the attention of anyone interested in the arcane arts, and from there, it would hardly be a stretch for them to fall under the influence of the stones."

Therion nodded slightly at that, and he couldn't help thinking that Cyrus was right. "I can only hope it doesn't wind up coming back to bite us while we're here," he muttered. "Then again, I suppose the Warp Staff will give us the chance to get back to Bolderfall before we can fall under the influence of the gemstone."

"Lady Cordelia and Heathcote must have immense faith in you to believe that you would not succumb to such temptations of the stones," Cyrus remarked. "Perhaps that was another reason they requested the rest of us accompany you in your journey to find them once more..."

Therion shook his head. "I don't know, but I don't intend on letting some damn gemstone control the rest of my life," he assured Cyrus. He knew words were probably cheap in the face of a magical artifact that quite possibly possessed some degree of influence over human emotion, but Therion was going to remain bitterly stubborn to the end, and if that meant standing up against the dragonstone's power, then so be it. He wanted the dragonstones out of his life as soon as possible, and nothing was going to hold him back from that, not even the jewels themselves. 

The mansion came into view in full soon afterward, and Therion realized that they had arrived at their destination. All of a sudden, his throat felt overwhelmingly dry, and he shook his head to try and eliminate any of the residual nerves starting to mount inside of him. He had carried out heists more difficult than this countless times before, and this time, he even had the added advantage of knowing exactly how to get inside thanks to the combined influence of the password and the key Barham had given him. In other words, this mission was going to be over as soon as it started, and it was just a matter of time before the pieces came together without consequence. 

At the very least, that was the hope, but Therion supposed only time would tell. He shoved his impatience as far down as it would go before he turned to the other members of the group, gesturing for them to fall in line behind him. He was going to be able to handle this, he was sure, and he didn't want any of them to jeopardize the mission. Under most other circumstances, Therion would have just gone in alone, but if the dragonstone really did have the power to influence emotions as Cyrus suspected, it would be best to be safe rather than sorry. Plus, if Orlick grew violent, Therion knew he would fare better if he had help at his side than trying to take on Orlick's massive faction of armed guards by himself. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed them if he was going to find success in this heist. 

He hated even more that he actually enjoyed that thought deep down in the pit of his darkened heart. 

When the group did grow nearer to the mansion, Therion walked up to the entrance without a care in the world, doing his best to shove aside his nerves. This was bound to be an easy heist as long as he was able to get inside, and the key to deceiving the guards was confidence. He had everything he needed to get the dragonstone; all he had to do was use his tools properly. 

Therion almost thought he was going to be able to walk inside the building without issues when the guards standing on either side of the staircase stepped together to block the entrance from view. "Halt. What business do you have here?" the guard on the left questioned, his voice immediately shifting to something accusatory. 

"My friends and I have a package for Orlick--materials for his experiment," Therion replied. He gestured behind himself to where the other travelers were standing, his hand specifically pointing out Tressa. Her bag of supplies was massive; if he said she had something, nobody would bother to push back against him, or so he hoped. 

The guards looked surprised at that, and they turned to one another. Insecurity was already starting to leak in through the cracks of their firm facades, and Therion could tell it wouldn't be much longer before he was able to get inside without any consequences. "You hear anything about a delivery?" the guard on the left questioned, every word tainted with uncertainty. 

"Not me," his companion replied with a shake of his head. 

"That's odd..." Therion murmured, playing it off so seamlessly that neither one of the guards even seemed to notice something was wrong. "Maybe the message just got lost somewhere. Anyway, he said it was urgent, so we rushed over."

Behind Therion, Tressa had picked up on what the thief was trying to do, and she showed a small box to the guards. Therion didn't know what was inside, but something shifted within the container. He assumed it was something she had bought while they were in Stillsnow, and Therion was glad Tressa had figured out his ruse. After all, that only increased their chances of being able to get inside. She would make for a better thief than she realized. 

The sight of the small box seemed to be all the guards needed to see, and the man on the right nodded. Therion made a mental note to thank Tressa later for acting as the clinching moment to allow the pieces to fall together so seamlessly. "Understood. What's the password?" the guard on the right questioned. 

Therion nodded. Here goes nothing. "'The truth of all things,'" Therion answered simply. Under most other circumstances, he would have felt his chest constrict with fear at the idea of what might happen if he was wrong somehow, but Therion couldn't bring himself to succumb to his anxieties for the moment. He knew Barham had told him the truth, and Therion had no reason to disbelieve someone who was so tragically similar to him. 

The guards glanced to one another, and their previous uncertainty melted away. The man on the left nodded. "Alright. You may pass," he said simply. 

The two men stepped apart, leaving the staircase easy to access once again. Therion nodded to them, gesturing for the others in the party to follow. "Much obliged," he told them. He truly did owe them a lot; after all, they were allowing him to walk right in, and he hadn't even broken a sweat once he had all the pieces in his hands. Stealing the dragonstone was already proving itself to be much easier than sneaking into Ravus Manor had been, Barham's fetch requests aside. 

The guards didn't move as the group continued to walk up the staircase, and Therion smiled into his scarf. Orlick had only hired the best, but not even the best were good enough to stop Therion from getting inside somewhere once he put his mind to it. Therion never would have expected to work so openly and freely with others after what had happened the last time he had a partner, but the others in his traveling party were not only proving themselves helpful, but beneficial in more ways than Therion could have ever expected. All that they had to do from there was actually get their hands on the dragonstone, and while that was bound to be easier said than done, it was a step in the right direction. 

The mansion that towered overhead was massive enough to be intimidating to even Therion, and he couldn't help but wonder how much money Barham and Orlick had splurged on the enormous building. It seemed more like a palace than anything else, though Therion supposed that was part of what it meant to live in Noblecourt (or to be rich, though Therion believed those two concepts were synonymous anyway). The size of the mansion wasn't going to wind up mattering in the end regardless; as long as Therion was able to get his hands on the dragonstone, nothing else was important, and he wasn't leaving without the ruby stone. 

The door was easy enough to push open, and Therion silently scoffed at Orlick's confidence. He hadn't even locked the front door beyond the guards stationed outside. He clearly thought the armed faction he had hired was more than enough to guard his research, but Therion had proven it to be insufficient. Orlick's hubris was impressive, but Therion was going to tear it apart before he was gone. It was only a matter of time. 

The inside of the mansion consisted of brown floors so ominously clean it seemed as if nobody had touched them in years. There was no dust, and it seemed as if the building was an untouched remnant of a bygone history nobody understood anymore. Olive green lined the walls, a color so rich and exquisite it was almost sickening. Orlick had no doubt spent more leaves on this mansion than Therion would see in his entire life, and he didn't even seem to mind enough to enjoy the space of everything he had been given. It was a waste as far as Therion was concerned, but it wasn't something he could decide. Orlick was the one who made this decision, and he was going to have to live with those choices both before and after the downfall he was given by Therion in a matter of hours. 

There were many guards patrolling the inside of the building, but all it took was Therion offering them the password for the mercenaries to leave the group alone. It was almost sad how easy it was for the group to make their way to the back end of the mansion. The guards grew in number the deeper in they went, and Therion could only imagine it was a sign they were getting closer to their target. The dragonstone was hiding at the heart of the manse, and they were on the cusp of finally being able to grasp it. 

Therion stopped walking when they arrived in front of a large set of double doors with a lock so large it could have easily eaten any of Therion's lock picks alive. Therion dug the key he had been given by Barham out of his pocket and compared it to the lock waiting before him. "So this is the door Barham was talking about," he murmured as he closed the gap to the lock with careful footsteps, giving him a closer look at just how strange the binding of the door truly was. "It doesn't look like it has an ordinary lock, that's for sure."

Therion examined the key once again before he pressed it into the lock, and he could already tell Barham had meant it when he said the key would be able to open the door. It was almost hilarious how simple it was from there, and the door clicked open after only a few seconds of Therion's interference. He smiled to himself before pushing the door open, dropping the key into his pocket. He could consider it a keepsake of another successful heist, he supposed. He might as well after everything he did for Barham for it to be made in the first place. 

The room on the other side of the door appeared as if it had once been used for storage in some way, as countless objects were pushed against the walls lining the space. There didn't seem to be much in the way of rhyme or reason for why specific items were positioned in a given place, and Therion could only imagine this was the work of a scholar who cared little for his environment in favor of his current project. At least Barham had the decency to be somewhat clean when he was working. 

Even if the positioning of most items in the room was haphazard and difficult to pin down, there was one object that stuck out. A table sat near the center of the room, and a white cloth had been draped over it. A cradle could be seen atop the tablecloth, and there was the ruby dragonstone, sitting there as if it owned the space with its silent imposing power. It gleamed gently in the light streaming in through the windows at the back wall, almost possessing an otherworldly aura as Therion drew closer slowly. 

"The ruby dragonstone..." Cyrus murmured, his eyes wide. When Therion offered a brief glance over his shoulder, he could see that all of the other travelers were glancing to each other, seemingly waiting to see who would be the first to reach out for the gemstone that had brought them here to begin with. As far as Therion was concerned, the one who was going to get the dragonstone was clear as could be, and he didn't bother hesitating as he started to approach the jewel. 

"One down, two to go," Therion muttered under his breath. He was on the verge of reaching out for the stone, his fingers already starting to tingle with the power he knew was just beneath his fingertips, when--

"That's fair enough, thieves!"

Dammit. 

Therion should have known it wasn't going to be that simple. It seemed like his recent attempts at thievery had ended with some interference or another, though he supposed that made things at least a bit more interesting. He shifted his attention over to the door, doing his best to seem as composed as possible despite the tension that was quickly finding a home inside his body. The voice that had called for them to stop was a nasally one, and Therion could already tell it belonged to Orlick. He couldn't imagine anyone aside from the scholar of Barham's stories sounding that annoying. 

The man that walked in over the course of the moments that followed wore clothing so elaborate and expensive it almost felt like a crime to look at him. His coat was a deep green color, dull but still rich in a way Therion struggled to describe. He wore a black hat with a white feather sticking out of one side. His hair was a light brown color, and Therion could tell that the man had been trying and failing to grow out a beard for quite a few years. The pathetic beginnings of stubble could be seen on the man's chin, but it was clear he wasn't ever going to get much more than that. 

The man wasn't alone though; it didn't take long for a group of at least twelve guards to close in around Therion and the other travelers. Therion's hand drifted to his pocket where he kept a small knife, ready to whip it out the second he thought they were going to get a bit too rough with him. In the meantime, he simply narrowed his eyes in the direction of the man leading the escort party. "You must be Orlick," he said, his voice surprisingly casual for someone who was at risk of being speared through from at least five different angles as he spoke. 

Orlick didn't bother to confirm Therion's suspicions, instead continuing to speak in his irritatingly haughty voice. His eyes were so overwhelmed with a conceited sense of greed that it made Therion feel sick to his stomach, and once again, he thought back to his conversation with Cyrus. The dragonstone had to be influencing Orlick's emotions in some way or another. He was sure of it. "I assume you heard the rumors and came to steal my dragonstone," Orlick snarled, his voice dripping with malice each time he spat out a syllable. He shook his head. "But filthy thieves such as yourselves could never appreciate its true value."

Orlick turned to face the dragonstone a moment later, seeming to admire his reflection in the surface of the stone. The sheen that overcame his eyes could only be described as maddening, and a moment later, he seemed to perk up as if struck with something. His entire body went tense, and Therion swallowed back his agitation at Orlick's odd infatuation with the gemstone. "Wait! Barham put you up to this, didn't he?!" Orlick roared. He stamped one foot against the ground like he was a toddler on the verge of a tantrum, and his sad excuse for stubble was buried in the fur that lined his coat. "That nagging, patronizing coward, Barham!"

The first thing Therion thought as he saw Orlick cross his arms was that the man needed to work on his emotional regulation before he went around spouting off accusations. Therion knew that nothing he said was going to reach Orlick given how far gone the man was because of his research, so he instead resolved to keep his lips pressed firmly shut. It didn't matter what Orlick thought when it came to the reason Therion was there; as long as he was able to get the dragonstone, nothing was that important, and as far as Therion was concerned, he was still going to be able to pull it off. As long as the others were there, he had the high ground. 

Orlick didn't seem to notice or care that Therion had a plan though, and he instead chose to keep talking, his tantrum dragging on even longer. "'This research is pointless, Orlick.' 'Enough with the dragonstone, Orlick.' I'll say when enough is enough!" Orlick shouted, clearly doing what he could to release his pent-up frustrations with Barham at anyone who would listen. Therion saw no point in trying to push back against him, so he remained silent even still, once again thinking that Orlick was in serious need of an intervention that involved him getting as far away from the emotionally influential dragonstone as possible. Barham was right, and so was Cyrus. 

Orlick turned back to the dragonstone, and the twisted infatuation in his eyes only continued to prove the theory Cyrus had proposed. "Mark my words, thieves: this stone is mine, and you will never have it!" he roared. 

"I beg to differ," Therion told Orlick casually. He wasn't at all bothered by Orlick's explosive temper. He had dealt with worse than this a thousand times before, and he chose to not acknowledge how similar Orlick could be to a certain other person he didn't want to think about anymore. "I couldn't care less about its 'true value.' But I need to get that stone back to its rightful owner, and that's not you."

Orlick continued to fawn over the gem as he spoke now. "This stone should be in the hands of someone intelligent, someone who can appreciate its mysteries," Orlick declared.

Therion raised an eyebrow at that. "Someone like yourself?" 

"Precisely! This beautiful stone requires research, and I'm the only one who can do it!" Orlick cried out. He seemed like a dragon looking after a pile of gold, but instead of a collection of rare treasures, it was a simple stone worth more than anything Therion had ever even come close to in the past. Somehow, that was even more obnoxious to deal with than an actual dragon. After all, the beasts didn't exist, but Orlick most certainly did, and he was incredibly frustrating over it. 

Therion watched Orlick for a long moment and his eyes slipped shut in contemplation. He chose to not look over his shoulder at the other travelers in his party. "It sounds like you can't trust anyone else to get the job done," he commented bluntly, not bothering to specify his words beyond that. At one point, he would have never been able to rely on others to help him with his work either, but he had evolved past that. He liked to think that he wasn't held back by his own insecurities on that front the way he once had been, though he knew that was difficult to describe for certain. That was subjective as could be, and Therion wasn't about to think about something so heavy when he had work to take care of at the moment. 

"Why should I?" Orlick questioned, his voice sharp as he continued to admire the stone. He glanced up to Therion a moment later, his fingers stroking gently across the surface of the jewel. 

Therion was quiet for a moment. Orlick's aggression didn't appear as if it was going to manifest itself in combat prowess, and if he did try to put up a fight, Therion doubted he would be capable of much. Still, talking him down would be better than pushing his luck the wrong way, so he might as well give it a shot. "I never said you should. I know how it feels--"

"Don't pretend you understand!" Orlick roared angrily, and Therion found that, truth be told, he didn't understand. Well, he did at least in part, but his comprehension wasn't as complete as it once had been. His mind briefly flashed back to the help Tressa had offered when the group arrived at the entrance of the mansion, Alfyn's lopsided smile in all of its strange perfection, and Primrose's gentle kindness despite all she had been through. At one point, Therion would have understood the importance of acting alone, but these days, he couldn't help feeling as if he had been dragged into something much larger than himself, and he didn't even fully comprehend how or why it had happened. 

Orlick didn't notice Therion's internal debate though, and he raised one hand before clenching it into a fist and slamming it on the table where the dragonstone was sitting. The jewel shook ever so slightly from the contact, but it didn't fall out of its cradle by some stroke of a miracle. Therion somehow doubted it would have broken even if it did fall; something with that much power couldn't break simply by hitting the floor, he was sure. "Enough with this thoughtless prattle! I have work to do!" Orlick roared. 

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a knife bound by a sheath. He was quick to yank the dagger free of its bindings, and from there, he charged forward. The guards surrounding the group started to close in a moment later, and Therion's eyes narrowed. If Orlick wanted to do this the hard way, then so be it. He was going to get that dragonstone one way or another, even if he had to fight through Orlick to do it. 

~~~~~~ 

Sitting in the inn room was isolating. 

Primrose had been there for the last few hours, and while she knew it was for the best, she couldn't help wanting to be with the rest of the group as they searched for the ruby dragonstone. She didn't want to risk being caught by any of the unsavory parties that had closed in on Noblecourt in the aftermath of her father's murder though, and that meant staying as hidden as possible. She hoped the others were having luck in searching for the dragonstone, and she wished there was something more she could do to help them beyond just waiting for them to return. 

Primrose had found herself struggling to sleep even though that had been her initial plan. She figured she would catch up on the rest she had lost while she was stressed over Rufus' death in Stillsnow, but that had been much easier said than done. As it stood, she was just paranoid over the fact that they weren't back yet. This mission was bound to take a while to carry out, yes, but Primrose wanted them back as soon as possible. 

She let out a small sigh as she leaned back against the mattress below. No matter how hard she tried to shift the focus of her mind, all she could think about was the rest of the group. Primrose had never expected other people would be capable of leaving such a profound impact on her life, and she couldn't seem to break free of her thoughts once she started thinking about all that had happened. So much had changed in such a short span of time, but Primrose was oddly alright with it. She was glad everyone else was there for her even if it was a difficult idea for her to accept. 

For the time being though, Primrose could do nothing but worry about them. She was halfway tempted to search for them herself, but Noblecourt was the largest city she had ever been to, and she could look for hours without finding them. She didn't even know where they were going, and she knew that looking for them without any clues would only lead to disaster. 

In other words, all she could do was wait. Primrose liked to think of herself as a patient person given that she had waited for ten years to execute her revenge against her father's killers, but her anxiety still boiled hot and agitating in her stomach. She prayed that they were alright and let out a sigh, her nerves rattling while she was helpless to calm them.

Chapter Text

The many guards lining the area came together in quick strikes, and Therion ducked beneath the blade of one of them. Orlick's defensiveness of the ruby dragonstone was making itself more than clear given just how many mercenaries were gathered in the area, and the room specifically felt so overwhelmingly crowded that it was nauseating. Therion didn't let that stop him though, and he decided to take advantage of the power that he had been given by Alephan by lashing out with a quick blast of ice magic. It was clumsy and a far cry from the fire magic he was used to utilizing if he was going to use magic at all, but he was at least able to force the guard that was lashing out at him specifically backward by a few feet. 

Ophilia reached for the Illumination Staff and raised it in the air before bringing it down hard on the man's head. He stumbled, and Tressa took advantage of that to force him backward with a swift blast of air. Two other guards were caught up in the strike, and they were pushed away from the heart of the battle as a result. Cyrus was the next to respond, flicking his wrist and creating a block of ice that was admittedly much more impressive than anything Therion could ever hope to muster. The ice was able to pin the men in place, and regardless of how much they struggled against the cold solid keeping them trapped, they were unable to escape. 

H'aanit could see the men were stuck, and she reached for her axe before raising it above her head and bringing down the hilt. The weapon struck one of the men in the temple and knocked him unconscious. Alfyn took care of the other two guards after pulling together a few ingredients from his satchel. Therion had to admit that he was impressed; he hadn't realized Alfyn was able to do something like that, though he could already tell it was going to come in handy. 

The nine other guards in the area were continuing to circle the group, and two of them surged forward before locking blades with Olberic. The warrior threw up his sword in a perfect position to block the two strikes, and while he was able to hold them off, the combined force of the two men was starting to wear on him much faster than they would have liked. Therion's eyes narrowed at the sight before he dashed in the direction of the men, mimicking something he had seen Primrose do so much as he struck with a quick blast of shadows that knocked them both off course. 

The pair of guards stumbled, and Cyrus once again pinned them to the wall. This time, a pile of boxes filled to the brim with supplies was knocked over along the way, leaving countless objects scattered throughout the floor. Tressa cleaned it up quickly afterward though, slashing her spear to manipulate the wind and force the items against the wall. It didn't seem like much at first, but at the very least, it would stop anyone from tripping and getting cornered as a result. 

Orlick finally seemed to have had enough of letting his guards fight for him, and he let out an angered screech at the sight of all his supplies being sent to the ground. He raised his dagger over his head and decided to attack the person who just so happened to be closest to him: Alfyn. He attempted to stab downward at Alfyn, but he was cut off when H'aanit of all people jumped in his way, one hand on her axe while the other stretched out to grab Orlick's arm. Since Orlick was a scholar and far from being as physically fit as the huntress, he was trapped on the spot, and that was all it took for Linde and Hägen to catch on to what H'aanit was trying to do. The two animals lunged directly at Orlick, and he was sent stumbling backward without mercy. 

Orlick's flailing ultimately left him just off to the side of the table where the dragonstone was, and he glanced down at the jewel with eyes that could only be described as hypnotized. He reached out to grab it, but before he had the chance, Ophilia flicked the Illumination Staff in his direction. A column of light exploded at his feet, and Orlick was forced away from the pedestal. The table wasn't at all rattled thanks to Ophilia's pinpoint accuracy, and the man roared in anger. 

Cyrus recognized what was happening, and he reached for his tome before finding a page and whispering something under his breath. It had to be from some ancient language Therion had never been able to learn (or at the very least, that was his best guess as to what Cyrus was saying), but it seemed to be successful either way, creating a massive blast of wind magic that once again forced Orlick away from the dragonstone. 

Therion couldn't tell what the best course of action was from there, but he looked over to the dragonstone and considered jumping for it himself. If he could get the gem, then maybe they would be able to get out of the mansion with minimal conflict. No, that wasn't going to work. Orlick still had seven guards running around, and given his obsession with the ruby stone, he wasn't going to be letting any of them go quite so easily. They were just going to have to fight off the guards and see where that brought them. 

H'aanit raised her axe before once again striking one of the guards. He was able to block the attack with his sword, but he wasn't prepared for her to strike again a moment later, this time slashing upward from where she had finished the last slash. Olberic was the next one to appear, and he struck the man in the side with his sword. The guard was forced away from them at that, raising his blade in a defensive position to mitigate any further damages. He glanced back and forth between the pair frantically, but he could clearly tell that he was outnumbered and outmatched. The warrior and huntress were simply too much for him to handle together. 

Alfyn took advantage of the man being distracted, and he continued to mix together ingredients from his pouch before sneaking up behind the guard and shoving a handful of something unknown in the man's face. Given the way the guard slumped over unconscious a moment later, Therion was willing to assume that it was something meant to induce slumber in the target. All things considered, it was rather effective, and it made Therion sure that he never wanted to get on Alfyn's bad side. 

Tressa glanced over to the next duo of guards. The numbers were even between the two parties now with seven each, but Tressa wasn't going to let that be true for too much longer. She pushed them backward with a blast of wind before reaching for her spear and following up by slashing in a wide arc. Neither one of these attacks did much in the way of damage, but pinning them down with ice magic was more than effective, and the two men were left trapped where they were. In other words, they were the perfect targets for Alfyn's next bundle of attacks involving a sleeping concoction, and soon enough, the tides of the battle had turned from seven against seven to seven against five. 

Orlick could tell that his grip on the battle was slipping, and he ran for the dragonstone once again, desperate to grab it and get away as soon as possible. Therion surged toward him, knife primed at the ready. The two clashed blades in a lucky defensive strike from Orlick, but Therion was able to kick the man's legs out from beneath him while Orlick was distracted. The scholar wasn't meant for physical combat, and Therion was more than happy to take advantage of that as long as the opportunity was presenting itself on a silver platter. 

Orlick wasn't going to allow Therion to knock him down so easily, and he raised one hand as the air around his fingers began to shift with energy. Therion winced at the sight. He should have known that if Orlick was terrible at fighting physically, then it was just a matter of time before the scholar lashed out with magic. If he was looking after the dragonstone, then he had to know at least a little bit of magic, and this was likely just the beginning. 

Therion could see a magical attack form in the air above Orlick, and he was silently relieved that because of how dazed the scholar was, each attack was broadcasted well in advance. Therion rolled out of the way just in time to make sure he didn't get completely annihilated by the attack, and instead, one of the guards who had conveniently been trying to sneak up behind him at the time was hit square in the chest. Therion turned his head over one shoulder and watched as the man slouched over unconscious, his eyes wide with surprise. He hadn't been expecting that, but he supposed it was something he could consider a victory for the time being. 

Tressa was getting cornered by another guard, and he swung his blade in her direction. She raised her spear to block the attack, but she was significantly shorter than the man trying to knock her aside, and her feet dug into the carpet desperately as she tried to keep her balance. Olberic was more than capable of coming to her rescue though, sliding into view before slamming into the man's side, knocking him off balance and forcing him into a senseless stumble. The guard let out a small groan of pain as the air was pushed from his lungs, and Tressa offered Olberic a quick nod before she dashed off in the direction of Ophilia. 

The cleric had concentrated her energy briefly on healing the injuries that the guards had left behind, and the air tingled with the promise of magic. However, one of the guards had decided to take advantage of that and was preparing to knock her off her feet while she was distracted. He swung for the space near Ophilia's right shoulder, but Tressa appeared just in time with a stab of her spear to force his hand off target. The man instead only made contact with empty air, and Tressa whirled around with her weapon to strike him in the side of the head with the blunt pole connecting to the head of the spear at the end. 

This attack was more than enough to knock the guard off balance, and he went flying to the ground a moment later. Tressa stepped on his chest and pointed her spear in the direction of his face even though she had no intentions of actually doing anything more to hurt him. She glanced over her shoulder to where Ophilia was finishing the healing spell, though the cleric's hands had started to shake because of how rattled she was from the encounter. "Are you alright?" Tressa questioned carefully. 

Ophilia nodded, and she concentrated her energy on attacking one of the other guards nearby with a blast of light magic. That left the man stumbling perfectly so he was in the line of fire of both Cyrus and H'aanit, and the scholar and huntress were easily able to pin the man down with ice magic after H'aanit struck him one last time. They repeated the cycle once again with the remaining guards as Alfyn finally arrived at Tressa's side to knock the man beneath her foot unconscious. It was an easy procedure, and Therion was left to wonder silently just how much these guards had been worth. They certainly weren't doing their jobs well if they were being defeated so easily by the travelers, though he supposed that there were many incompetent guards out there. This was probably nothing too out of the ordinary, and chances were that they hadn't seen any interaction with combat in quite some time as long as they had been waiting at Orlick's mansion for the action to come to them. 

The final guard from the group of twelve was still clashing swords with Olberic, and the warrior was able to hold up his blade with a single hand as he clenched his fingers into a fist and released an attack of electric magic thanks to the gift Alephan had provided them all with. The guard was hit in the side, and he let out a gasp as he was sent sprawling to the ground. Alfyn dashed over to where the man landed, and from there, spreading his concoction to knock the man unconscious was all too simple. 

Just like that, Orlick was the only one left standing against the seven travelers who had barely broken a sweat in the face of the previous fighters. Orlick glanced around to all of them with anger and fear conflicted on his features. He couldn't seem to decide if running or standing his ground would be the better option, but in the end, he wasn't given much of an option. Cyrus read something else from his tome in what Therion assumed was still ancient language, and a blast of wind sent Orlick flying against the wall behind the stone. There were no supplies there, and in that respect, Orlick had been lucky, but he wasn't going to be able to depend on chance to save him from then on. 

"The dragonstone is mine! You can't take it! I'm the only one who deserves to research it!" Orlick shrieked with rage. He reached for the gemstone as he shakily rose to his feet, but he wasn't able to do much under the weight of his own weakness from the damage he had already sustained. He wasn't built for battle, and that was no doubt why he had hired so many sell swords to protect his mansion. He couldn't do much, though in the end, they hadn't been nearly as capable as Therion would have hoped they would be. If anything, this was barely a challenge as long as there were seven of them, and it would have been even simpler had Primrose been able to come along. 

"You don't know what you're getting involved with," Therion replied all too simply, having given up on talking Orlick down from his tantrums quite some time ago. As far as he was concerned, the best course of action was to simply take care of Orlick and knock him unconscious so they could grab the dragonstone and get as far away as possible. 

Orlick raised his dagger once again, and he seemed to be prepared to charge directly at the thief. Therion swapped out his weapon from his knife to his sword just in case he was going to have to block. After all, a larger weapon was going to do him many more favors in that department than a small dagger would. Much to his surprise though, it didn't seem to amount to anything. Orlick instead disturbed the air with magic, gathering the arcane energies of the room and creating a set of spheres that rotated over his head ominously before he flicked his wrist forward. The spheres rocketed toward the travelers, and Therion went wide before throwing up his arms to defend his head from the blasts. 

The other travelers all did their best to get out of the way, and Therion managed to swerve out of the way from a blast just before it could make contact with him. At that, he rushed forward with his sword primed at the ready, slashing another sphere of energy out of the way before pushing one hand against Orlick's torso. His fingers flickered with flame, and the magic passing from his body to Orlick's was enough to send the scholar stumbling backward, and he slammed into the wall soon afterward. Along the way, he dropped his knife, and the blade slid across the ground before landing just beneath Therion's foot. The white-haired man kicked the knife backward where it was picked up by Tressa and tucked out of view. 

Orlick looked up at the travelers around him, his expression contorted by ghastly shock. "Bested by thieves... How disgraceful...!" he whispered, his eyes wide as could be. That was all he was able to get out in terms of words before he slumped over unconscious, unmoving but still clearly alive based on the subtle rise and fall of his chest. 

Therion gave Orlick a brief glance before he shook his head. At that, he approached the ruby dragonstone. "Since you won't be doing much more research, I'll just take this," he murmured. He reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a piece of fabric before scooping up the red stone with the cloth, taking special care to not touch it. He didn't know how the dragonstone was able to influence emotions specifically, but he didn't want to accidentally trigger its powers any sooner than necessary. After all, there was still quite a bit of business left to be taken care of while the group was in Noblecourt. 

"We're finished here," Therion declared as he tucked the dragonstone out of sight. It was hard to fit the rather large gemstone in the pouch hidden beneath his cloak, but it was the best he could do without broadcasting to the world what they had done while they were on their way back to the inn. "Let's finish our business here and then leave. We can't risk being around the dragonstone much longer than we have to."

There were no objections to that, and the travelers moved in the direction of the door from there. Therion was the one to lead the group, and he gave Orlick one final glance over his shoulder before starting the walk out of the building, the other travelers hot on his heels the whole time. 

One down, two to go. 

~~~~~

Primrose's anxiety had only spent the last hour mounting, and she was tapping one foot impatiently against the ground of the floor below. She had tried to dance for a short while to get rid of the tension inside of her body, but that hadn't worked out as well as she had been hoping, and in the end, she was right back to waiting directly for the other members of the group to get back. She was desperate to get out of Noblecourt as soon as possible, and hopefully, they would be able to do that sooner rather than later. 

Just as she was thinking that, the door opened without a knock, and Primrose glanced up. She reached for her dagger on pure instinct, but her fears were ultimately left unfounded as she caught sight of H'aanit in the entryway, a gentle smile on her face. Therion was at her side, and he reached for his cloak with one hand. "We got it," he told Primrose simply. 

Primrose smiled. "And in just one day too. I'm impressed," she said, pretending that her pride was because the group had taken care of the job so quickly and not because she was desperate to get out of Noblecourt as soon as possible. 

"We're going to leave in the morning for Bolderfall if all goes well. For now, Cyrus has some research to do about the shrines where we met Aelfric and Alephan," Therion told her, turning his attention over his shoulder to where the scholar was waiting. 

Cyrus nodded his confirmation. "If we can learn where the other shrines are, it will no doubt save us time as we continue our journey through Orsterra. The battle against Orlick was a well-won fight, and we have no idea how strong our foes will be from here on out," he explained. 

"In other words, it's time for us to do some research and see what we can find," Primrose concluded, and she was met with a nod from Ophilia to show her confirmation. Primrose hummed at that and closed her eyes gently. "In that case, I guess we're just going to have to hope Noblecourt has what we're looking for."

"Orlick isn't the only pretentious and obnoxious scholar around here. If we know where to look, we're going to figure out everything that we might need to know," Therion announced, crossing his arms over his chest. "In fact, I think I might have an idea on where we should be starting if we want to gather information as soon as possible."

"You think we should go back to Barham for advice, don't you?" Tressa questioned with a light tilt of her head to the side. 

Olberic nodded. "That sounds like a fine idea. Stumbling through Noblecourt without any guidance is sure to accomplish nothing but slowing us down, and we don't want to be around the dragonstone any longer than we have to," he murmured. 

"Why don't we want to be around the dragonstone?" Primrose asked carefully, glancing to the spot where Therion had touched to show that he had the gemstone hiding on his person. 

"The scholar we got it from, Orlick, was obsessed with it. Cyrus thinks that's because the dragonstone has the ability to influence the emotions of those around it for the worse," Alfyn replied. "If we can get it back to Bolderfall, then we can trust Cordelia and Heathcote to look after it. After all, they know how to handle these sorts of things."

Primrose nodded, though she was silently left to wonder just how Cyrus had managed to come to such a firm conclusion about the powers of the dragonstone. "Alright," she said softly. "I'm going to trust you all to head out for the search then."

"You're going to stay here for a while longer, aren't you?" Ophilia questioned even though all of them were all fully aware of the answer. 

Primrose didn't have the chance to respond though, and Therion tilted his head in the direction of the door. "You can all get going to start seeing if you can find anything around town. We might want to get a few more supplies while we're here. I'll set the dragonstone up here. It's safer than carrying it around in case somebody gets infected by its magic," he pointed out. 

The other travelers all exchanged brief glances before nodding and leaving. Primrose assumed that they were going to divide the tasks for the day once they were outside, but something else was on her mind as they departed. She watched Therion carefully, knowing there was something else going through his head in the silence hanging between them. 

"I'm glad you were able to take care of the dragonstone while we were here," Primrose decided to say carefully. She wasn't sure where to start, but it had to count for something. 

Therion nodded. "Orlick was much easier to take care of than you would have expected," he said simply. The silence came rushing in around them once again before he shattered it. "Are you going to take care of your next step while we're here?"

Primrose was caught by surprise there, and her eyes went wide as she looked at him carefully. "I don't--" she started to say, though she wasn't entirely sure where she was going with this. 

"Your hometown is Noblecourt. The fact that you've been so cagey since we arrived tells me that you're trying to not confront the next step of your mission," Therion told her casually. "I get the feeling that there's more going on inside your head than you're willing to admit. I'm not going to get involved if you don't want me to, but I will say that you're lucky we have the Warp Staff so we can come back here again later."

Primrose hesitated before nodding and looking down at the ground. "I suppose so," she admitted softly. She shifted her attention straight ahead next, not daring to peer over in Therion's direction. "I don't know what to do... But we're going to be out of here soon enough."

"Trust me when I say that we're all in a hurry to get out of here," Therion told her. "I don't want to be here any more than we already have. As soon as we can figure out where the shrines are, I want to leave this place behind. Noblecourt is a pain in the ass."

Primrose snickered at that. "I can't say I disagree," she said softly. The town had certainly changed compared to how it was in the memories she held of her childhood, and she somehow doubted it was going to return to the world she had come to know so long ago. She glanced up in his direction at long last, and the two made eye contact carefully. "I hope you and the others are able to find something that will help us to get out of here faster."

Therion nodded. "You wouldn't be the only one," he admitted in a bitter mutter. They were quiet for another beat, and he pulled the dragonstone out of its pocket hiding beneath his cloak. "I guess I should go put this away. Just... Make sure nobody manages to get into Alfyn and I's room to grab it, alright? We don't know what sort of toxic magic this thing has."

Primrose nodded. "Of course," she assured him. She paused as he started to retreat toward the door, and her eyes narrowed as he left. She was speaking before she could even say what she was trying to accomplish. "Therion, wait."

Much to Primrose's surprise, the thief actually did as he was told. He turned to face her carefully, his eyes narrowing as he tried to read what she wanted of him. "What is it?" he asked, almost like he was afraid of the response he was going to get. 

Primrose breathed carefully, trying to figure out how she was supposed to phrase this. She didn't know how to handle the subject of Therion's past, but she could see it clear as day that something else was on his mind. She had been distracted by her own issues, yes, but that didn't mean she was completely unaware of what was going on in the lives of others. Therion specifically had been doing a poor job of hiding the truth of how he felt, and Primrose could tell that there was something else crackling just beneath the surface that he refused to show. The least she could do after he had been so patient with her was at least extend an offer to let him know that he was able to count on her if he so chose. 

"If you ever need anything..." Primrose eventually decided to begin. "You know where to find me. I want to do what I can to help you and the others. I know it's not easy to trust people. I understand that better than anyone else here. Still, that doesn't mean you have to hide everything you're dealing with from the rest of us. In fact, I think it would benefit you to open up every once in a while. I'm not going to force you if you're not comfortable with talking, but... You know where to find me. All you have to do is say the word."

Therion was still as a statue for a long moment before he managed to shake himself free of his trance. He turned to face the hallway, his face perfectly out of view. "Funny. I always though Cyrus and Tressa were the nosey ones," he murmured. 

Primrose smiled sadly at that. She knew this was Therion's way of trying to avoid the subject at hand, but it wasn't going to work as well as he would have hoped. "I want to do what I can to help you and the other members of our group. We're going to be spending a lot more time together from here on out, after all. It's the least I can do," she pointed out. 

Therion remained silent and still for another handful of moments before he shook his head and stepped out into the hallway. "Stay out of trouble," he instructed of her carefully. He left soon afterward, closing the door behind him. Primrose watched him go, and a gentle smile continued to make its way across her features. Therion was still struggling to open up to the rest of the group, and while Primrose was making at least some headway thanks to his kindness back in Stillsnow, it was still going to be quite some time before Therion was willing to yield as many details about himself. That was something Primrose could detect at a simple glance. 

For the time being though, Primrose knew that she could count on him to think about what she had said. When he was ready, he was going to reach out. She didn't want to intrude if he wanted her to stay out of it, so she decided to take a step back and count on him to take this at his own pace. Therion had a good head on his shoulders, and when the time was right, he would know it. Primrose got the feeling she would be able to sense it too. 

Primrose allowed her eyes to slip shut, and for a few brief moments, she wasn't thinking at all about the problems that had come with returning to Noblecourt. She was just glad that she and the other members of the group had managed to succeed in the first step of their mission there. After this, they would be able to head to Goldshore, and maybe then, Primrose would feel better about everything that was taking place around her. It was a small hope, but what other choice did she have? 

Chapter Text

When Therion arrived outside the inn, he found that the group had already started to split up to take care of the responsibilities on their to-do list before they departed from Noblecourt. Tressa and Alfyn were off to make sure their supplies were in order, and Tressa was determined to haggle anyone who gave them prices that could at all be considered too high. Olberic wound up leaving with H'aanit to get some extra food for Linde and Hägen since the two were starting to get agitated by the constant shuffle of the town. That left Ophilia to go with Cyrus and Therion back to Barham's home to see if the scholar knew anything about the shrines of the gods. Therion was fine with it, much to his own surprise; Cyrus knew what he was doing, and Ophilia seemed like a nice person. There were worse people he could have been stuck with. 

The more Therion thought about it, the more he had to wonder if he really disliked any of the people he had found himself traveling with. It wasn't as if he had asked to be part of their journey across the continent, but at the same time, he didn't mind it as much as he thought he would. Even if he was there because Cordelia and Heathcote hadn't given him a choice, at least he was trying to enjoy it. As far as Therion could tell, he was almost succeeding. There were still a few whispers in the back of his mind that reminded him to not get too close to anyone or to let his guard down too much, but he did his best to move past that and concentrate on just getting through the situation at hand. He owed himself that much, and the others deserved a bit of dignity along the way too. 

Walking back to Barham's home this time was much less painful than it had been in the past. Ever since realizing just how similar they were in the worst ways possible, Therion hadn't minded Barham as much. He supposed that being able to take out his anger on Orlick hadn't hurt in the slightest when it came to calming himself down. Either way, Therion's concerns with their histories being similar didn't matter. He was there on another mission, and he wasn't going to falter. After all, he wanted to get out of Noblecourt as soon as possible, and this was the best way for him to get that chance. 

Therion knocked on the door to Barham's house, and shuffling could be heard from the other side. Barham opened the door a few moments later, and his eyes went wide when he saw Therion, Cyrus, and Ophilia. "Surprise," Therion started, his voice deadpan and low. 

Barham stared at them for another moment before he stepped aside to let them inside. "I take it you were successful in your mission?" 

Therion nodded. "You won't need to worry about the dragonstone ever again as far as we're concerned," he replied. 

"We believe that the stones may have a somewhat toxic effect on one's mind. If they are around the gemstone too long, then there is a chance that they will be influenced by it on a personal level," Cyrus began to explain. "I believe that your friend was caught in the grasp of the stones and didn't realize it."

Barham let out a sigh as he looked off to the side. "As much as I hate to admit it, that would make sense... I hope you're right in that he doesn't get involved with anything like that again," he murmured. "I hated having to see it the first time, and I don't want that to happen again."

"For now, we're going to take the dragonstone back where it belongs tomorrow. Until then, we have an important question for you," Ophilia told Barham. 

The scholar raised an eyebrow in her direction. "What is it?"

"While we were on our way here, we came across two shrines that represent two of the twelve gods of Orsterra. We were hoping that there would be information that could lead us to the other shrines somewhere in Noblecourt. After all, there are quite a few scholars here that gather significant amounts of knowledge, and given what you did for us, we figured that you would be a perfect place to start," Ophilia explained. 

Barham took a moment to think at that, and he closed his eyes in quiet contemplation. "At one point in the distant past, there were people who worshipped the gods in settings other than the churches seen throughout the land," he began to say. "Of course, the exact locations are difficult to pin down because of how long it has been since people went there on a regular basis."

Therion and Ophilia shared a glance as Cyrus spoke up once again. "Any information that you would be willing to provide us would be much appreciated," he said firmly. 

Barham walked over to one of the tables within his working area, and he started to shuffle through the pages that were scattered throughout the region. Therion resisted the urge to wince at the sight of just how messy Barham's workspace was, but he knew that commenting on it wasn't going to at all be productive to their attempt at finding information. As long as Barham was able to track down what he was looking for and help the group to reach the shrines, the path that took him there was unimportant. 

Barham was able to find something a few moments later, and he held up a scroll that had been folded up on the corner of the desk. It had gathered a thin layer of dust to show how long it had been since it was last used, and Therion cringed as Barham flapped it through the air to get rid of the particles and clear up the scroll's surface. Upon closer examination, it appeared to be a map. "Orlick and I have been investigating magical artifacts for quite some time. Before the dragonstones, we set our sights on many other locations that might be able to help us," he began to explain. "Magic can be found all across the continent, and if you know where to look, you can find areas that are particularly strong with this power."

"What's the map for then?" Therion questioned, raising an eyebrow as the dust settled. 

"This map has markings for the regions that are particularly rich in magic. I can't say which of them are going to be helpful to you, but you might as well take it and do what you can to find more information. I hardly have use for something like this anymore. I don't think I'll ever have to travel to these areas, so you can take it. After what you did for me to help free Orlick from the spell of the dragonstone, it's the least I can do," Barham went on. 

Cyrus reached out and took the map from Barham, and his gaze immediately dropped to the page in front of him. There were a few points marked with X symbols to show where Orlick and Barham had once been planning on investigating, though the areas were few and far between. In fact, there were less than two dozen of them across the map. 

Ophilia let out a gasp before she pointed to an area of the map that appeared to be close to Stillsnow. "That's the area where we found Aelfric's shrine!" she exclaimed.

"And this is where we found Alephan's shrine," Cyrus murmured as he pointed to another part of the map that had a cross mark not far from Noblecourt. "I believe this will prove to be incredibly helpful in narrowing down our search for the remaining shrines."

Therion's eyes passed over the map quickly, and he was easily able to see that there was one sign of immense magical strength tied with each of the towns that they would be passing through on the next few steps of their adventure. It started off with Stillsnow and then went to Noblecourt, and there was going to be something in Goldshore. Therion had been under the impression that their next step of their journey across the continent was going to be Stonegard since that was where Hägen had been leading H'aanit ever since they left behind S'warkii. They could double back to Goldshore when the time came for that leg of the Kindling to be carried out. 

At the very least, that was what Therion had been thinking initially. He was starting to change his mind on that though. It would be easy for them to go to Goldshore on their way to Stonegard. They would be able to snag another shrine along the way, and from there, they could use the Warp Staff to go back there when the time was right for the Kindling. It seemed like a much better choice than just waiting on going there for quite a while. They could use all the power they could get, and if there was a shrine in the area, they might as well take advantage of it. 

"I guess we had better make for Goldshore after we're finished here," Ophilia commented as she glanced up to Cyrus and Therion, seemingly having come to the same conclusion the thief had. "That way, we'll be able to go back there whenever we so please later on."

"Are you sure it's alright for us to take this?" Cyrus questioned, raising an eyebrow in the direction of Barham. 

The scholar nodded. "Of course. I wouldn't have given it to you if I didn't mean it," he pointed out. "It's the least I can do given that you were able to snap Orlick out of his trance with the dragonstone."

Ophilia smiled once again in his direction. "Thank you for all that you've done for us, Barham. We don't think we can thank you enough," she said kindly. 

"It's no issue at all. Do what you have to with it. I get the feeling there's a lot more you have left to take care of," Barham replied. Therion held back a comment about how Barham didn't know the half of it, though truth be told, not even he really understood what was going on behind the scenes. Aelfric had said that there was something else going on that none of them had come to recognize quite yet, but there was so much that could mean. They were simply going to have to see where that path led them in time. 

"Thank you again," Cyrus smiled to Barham. He rolled the piece of parchment before he walked out of the building, shutting the door behind himself before looking down to Ophilia and Therion. "I believe that was a most beneficial visit."

"We should try to figure out what locations on that map could have something to do with the other shrines," Ophilia pointed out. "There are a few on there that likely don't have anything to do with what's happening. We should do what we can to narrow down the search in case any of them wind up leading us on wild goose chases."

Cyrus nodded. "I'll get started on that as soon as we arrive back at the inn. It seems as if we'll have more than enough time to begin this search for information before we set out for Goldshore tomorrow. We'll need to tell the others about our change of plans," he pointed out. 

"Of course. We'll take care of that as soon as possible," Ophilia agreed before looking over to Therion. "What do you think, Therion? Will you be ready to leave for Bolderfall tomorrow?"

"I think that I want to get out of Noblecourt as soon as humanly possible," Therion told her. It was true; even if their exploits in Noblecourt had gone better than he expected, he was sure there was still something odd about the town. Noblecourt had always struck him in a strange way, and he could tell that wasn't going to change regardless of how much time they spent there. 

"I suppose we know what has to be done then," Ophilia chuckled. She started to walk back to the heart of the town a moment later, Cyrus hot on her heels. "Let's do what we can to prepare ourselves to set out tomorrow. As soon as we get back here from Bolderfall, it'll be time for us to see what we can do in Goldshore. I don't know what we're going to find there, but I suppose only time will be able to tell."

Therion nodded at that and watched as the other two started to walk away. He shoved his face into his scarf, off to pickpocket anything he could get his hands on. If the people of Noblecourt were going to be so obnoxious, then they deserved what he was going to do next. They had more than enough gold; they could afford to lose a little bit. 

With the distractions of their missions gone though, Therion couldn't help but think about what had been bothering him when he first arrived in town. He frowned at the thought of Rufus, and he forced himself to stop thinking about the man as soon as he could manage it. The last thing he wanted to do in that moment was remember what Rufus' connection to him could have been, and if he could at all avoid it, then he was going to shove that thought process out of his head. There was a chance he was jumping to conclusions along the way regardless, and he didn't want to think about it too much when there was a strong chance that it wasn't even true. 

Therion had been so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't even notice he was on a collision course with someone else in the town square until after he had run into them with his shoulder. He immediately pulled away, his expression returning to its regular neutrality to ensure the other party wouldn't be able to read too much into his actions. 

He was met with a man with light purple hair tied into a braid at the base of his neck. Everything about him was strange to Therion, and he felt a shiver sprint up his spine. It was difficult to describe just why he felt so sick to his stomach at the sight of this man, but it was like every part of him was actively repulsed by the person standing in front of him. Pain pounded through his eye, and he did his best to shove it aside. There was probably nothing wrong with him. Therion was just paranoid and jumping to conclusions, right? He had to be. 

Then again, there was something wrong with Noblecourt. Therion had been able to guess that much the moment he arrived there for the first time all those years ago. He kept this in mind as he looked at the man once again, not daring to be the one to make the first move. He would see how the other man responded and go from there. 

"My apologies, good sir," the man told Therion, a smile spreading across his face. Every part of his grin felt fake, and Therion's eyes narrowed once again. He didn't know how to describe it, but he knew there was something wrong with the man. It was a bone-deep chill that seemed to spread through his body faster than he was able to track it. 

"You should be more careful," Therion cautioned, though he wasn't entirely sure what he was trying to get across by saying such a thing. He just knew that there was something wrong with the man in front of him, and he wanted nothing more than to get as far away from the conversation as soon as possible. 

"It seems like not many people are careful around here," the man admitted with a small laugh. He shook his head before gathering his composure once again and turning to walk away from Therion. "Until we meet again, sir."

The man was gone before Therion could fully register everything that had been wrong with the encounter. He let out a hefty sigh, and he shook his head in frustration. Noblecourt was still just as obnoxious as it always had been, and he was more than ready to get out as soon as possible. 

"Ouch. Tough crowd."

Therion jumped at the sound of the new voice, and he turned to see Alfyn walking toward him with an easy smile on his face and a strange sense of understanding painted across his posture. Therion watched him carefully for another handful of beats before he spoke. "Some people," he muttered before looking up to make eye contact with Alfyn. "What are you doing here? I thought you were with Tressa."

"She wanted to look around the merchant district a bit more. I saw you in the crowd, and since you weren't with Cyrus or Phili, I figured I'd come to check on you," Alfyn explained. He fell into pace with Therion easily as the thief started to walk into the shuffle of the area, silently glad for the distraction but unwilling to say such a thing to the apothecary at his side. 

"I'm fine," Therion assured Alfyn, resisting the urge to sink into the protection offered by his scarf. He didn't say anything for a long moment, not sure what he could even say. He eventually glanced up to Alfyn after a few seconds had gone by, seeing that the apothecary was watching him still. Alfyn was just as much the embodiment of the sun as ever before, and Therion couldn't tell if he hated it or if he liked it. Either way, he was sure that he didn't want to think about everything that was bouncing around in his own head. If he was left alone for too long, he was going to start thinking about Rufus again, and that was the last thing he wanted. 

Alfyn watched Therion in the silence before he allowed a small frown to slip across his features. "You know, you've been actin' kinda strange ever since we got here. I get the feeling you don't want to be around here all that much," he said. It was an obvious attempt at starting a conversation, but Therion could barely even bring himself to think of a snide comment to bite back with. He was too tired of being stuck in his own head to bother. 

"I hate Noblecourt. The people here are obnoxious and frustrating," Therion explained, though he knew just as well as Alfyn that this wasn't going to be enough to end the conversation in its tracks. Alfyn knew there was more to it, and he was going to keep pushing as long as he had the means to do so. 

"That's not what I meant," Alfyn countered just as Therion had known he would. The thief allowed himself to sink a bit deeper into his scarf, and Alfyn took that as his cue to keep talking. "I just get the feeling there's something else on your mind. I'm not going to push it if you don't want to talk about it, but... You're not alone in any of this, you know. I bet you probably think of us as kind of inconvenient for stickin' around with you as you go on this big mission to get the dragonstones back, but... We really do care about you. I think we all care about each other a lot already, and you're not an exception to that rule just because you like spending time on your own."

Therion didn't know where he was walking as they continued to drift aimlessly through Noblecourt, but he didn't think he particularly cared about finding a destination either. Instead, he simply allowed his shoes to scuff across the ground slightly, a frown spreading on his face. "It's not important," he muttered crossly, though Therion didn't believe that for a second. How could he? There was no way for him to convince himself or Alfyn that he wasn't bothered by everything that was taking place around him. The dragonstones were part of it, yes, but they were the last thing on his mind as it currently stood. 

Alfyn continued to study Therion for a long moment, figuring out the correct words to share, and Therion found himself silently impressed that the apothecary was able to put so much care into helping those around him. It made sense given his occupation and the goal of his travels, but it still caught Therion by surprise. "If you don't want to talk about it right now, I'm not going to make you," Alfyn eventually said. "I'm not going to push you if you're not comfortable with talkin' for now, but... You know that you're not in this alone. We're all here with you because we want to be. If you need us, all you have to do is say so."

"I can handle this on my own, you know," Therion muttered. It was a flimsy excuse that wasn't going to fool Alfyn, but he was trying to keep the apothecary from getting too deep in his business at the very least. That had to count for something even though he knew everything was quickly falling apart faster than he would be able to gather the pieces and try to put them together. 

"If you really want to be alone, then we can leave you be, but we're stuck together whether you like it or not. We can help each other if there's something going on. That's one thing that I think is great about our little group. We can do things for each other if we can't face our problems alone," Alfyn continued. "I don't want to do anything that crosses lines, but... If you decide that you want to talk, all you need to do is come and find me. I'm sure everyone else feels the same way. They wouldn't have helped you come this far if they didn't care about you, Therion."

The thief continued to stare at his feet as he walked through the city. He didn't think he would ever be able to get used to being cared for by others no matter how much time went by. There would always be something that held him back whether he liked it or not, and he hated it. The past continued to influence him in a way that isolated from everything he could have wanted from the other members of the group. There was no freedom from his history; Therion had learned that much ages ago. He had long since stopped trying to push back against it because he knew so well how hopeless the fight was. 

Alfyn seemed to be able to sense that Therion didn't have much else to say on the matter, and he allowed himself to smile as he looked at the sky overhead. "I don't know what happened to you before you met up with the rest of us for you to feel this way, but... You're not in that situation anymore. It can be kinda hard to convince your body and mind that you're not in danger anymore, but... It's true. The rest of us are here to defend you, and as long as you're willing to let us in, we'll do what we can to pitch in. We wouldn't be here if we didn't want to help you."

Therion didn't say anything in response. Truth be told, he didn't think he was ever going to know how to respond to something like that. He wanted to believe Alfyn more than anything else, and that was the worst part. He had learned so long ago that trusting others was the worst thing he could do to himself. He didn't want to risk putting faith in those around him in case it turned around to bite him the same way it had so many times in the past, but at the same time, he actually liked  being able to count on the others. It wasn't a perfect system since they weren't a perfect group, but it wasn't like Therion was a shining role model either. He just wanted to do what he could to help them all through everything that was going on, whether it be their individual issues or what they were doing in terms of retrieving the dragonstones. 

In a way, that was the first problem. He wanted to be around them even though every part of his body was screaming at him that he shouldn't get attached. After all, reaching out to others was the first step of a slippery slope that led to everything falling apart. It had happened before, and he didn't want to risk it happening. 

And then he looked at Alfyn and his smile like sunshine, and that was all it took to break apart everything Therion had been building toward. The others were certainly something special as well, but Alfyn was able to break through it all so effortlessly. All it took was a single motion for everything to start falling apart, and it was like Therion's defenses might as well have never existed in the first place. He had been able to keep himself out of trouble for years up to that point, but it didn't seem to matter at all when he was presented with everything Alfyn could do with just a single moment and a flash of a grin in the wrong direction. 

Alfyn seemed to snap out of the conversation a moment later, and he looked up with a smile. "Look at that. Tress looks like she found a sale or two. We should go over and see if there's anything we can do to help her out," he declared. He glanced over to Therion a moment later, his grin growing wider. "What do you say?"

Therion found himself nodding before he could even register what was happening. He followed in Alfyn's shadow, wondering just how he was supposed to deal with any of this. He didn't think anybody had ever managed to break through his barriers so effortlessly. Alfyn didn't even have to try to do so much damage to Therion's shields. Hell, Therion didn't even know if the apothecary noticed what he was doing, and he wasn't going to be the one to bring it up in case that somehow wound up blowing up in his face. He instead just bit down on his lip and braced himself before taking a few steps forward in the direction of Tressa. 

It was strange to Therion just how easy it was for everything he had been putting together for so many years to just splinter and break in the blink of an eye. He had thought at one point that he was going to be on his own forever, but even in spite of that, he had managed to find a group of people that cared about him. Therion could deny it all he wanted, but he knew the truth deep down, and it wasn't just Alfyn's words that had made it all clear to him. He knew that the others wanted the best for him whether they said it openly or not, and in a way, that was one of the hardest parts. How was Therion supposed to just face something like that when he had spent so many years on his own? How could he change his tune when he was so used to something so completely different?

Therion knew that he wanted this more than he was willing to admit, and the reason he was letting everything happen without protest was because he really did want to be around other people. He had been on his own for far too long, and there was only so much of it he could take before he decided that he wanted to reach out and establish a new dynamic with those around him. How could he not want to bridge the gap? He had been alone for long enough as it was, and he deserved to be able to find other people who cared about him... Right? 

Then again, he was a thief, wasn't he? There were many members of the group who had questioned his actions in the past because of his occupation. They would be more than right to not want to be around him or trust him given everything he had done. He hadn't shared the full extent of his past with them for a reason, and he didn't even want to imagine what might happen if he was forced to tell them about everything he had done in the past. He hoped he was never put in that position since he was afraid of them leaving. Even when faced with all the fear that came with placing his trust in the wrong place, Therion was scared of being left alone beyond that. It was pathetic. 

All of that melted away the second Tressa came into view once more. She was tucking a few leaves into her bag, seemingly having easily haggled her way into a discount. Therion didn't know how she was able to do something like that so effortlessly, as even though he was a thief, he had never had a natural touch for the same things she did. He supposed that was part of what made their group so perfect though; they helped one another out so easily. They had been able to do that for ages, and he doubted it would ever change. 

Whether he wanted to admit it or not, Therion didn't want it to change. He wanted to keep on the same way he had been ever since they picked him up, and it had nothing to do with Heathcote, the dragonstones, or the fool's bangle. 

In a way, that was the worst part. 

Chapter Text

The plan the next morning was rather easy to put into effect, something Therion was beyond thankful for. The group packed everything they had and left it in their rooms to be picked up as soon as they were finished in Bolderfall. They were planning on dropping off the ruby dragonstone before returning to Noblecourt to pick up where they had left off in their journey. Their next destination had been decided on as Goldshore, and while it was somewhat out of the way, it was decided to be worth it for the sake of the Kindling. They might as well go there and take another shrine off the list as long as they were in the area, and after that, they could make for Stonegard and see what Hägen was trying to lead H'aanit to. 

Cyrus had managed to do good work over the course of the last day, something that surprised even Therion when they sat down for breakfast the following morning. He had managed to narrow down most of the sites of immense magical power through his own research elsewhere in town, and he had a rather firm idea of where he thought the remaining shrines were. There were a few other sources of magical strength, but he had managed to eliminate them with a bit of logical deduction. 

Cyrus had described his process of thinking when they were eating, saying that he was able to cross off the sites where the Sacred Flame's different homes could be found in Flamesgrace, Saintsbridge, and Goldshore as not being the shrines since there were other explanations for what was happening there. Duskbarrow had multiple sources of magic near it, and Cyrus decided that only one of them was likely to be a shrine given that the shrines appeared to be rather spread out across the map. There was something strange in Wispermill, though Therion didn't know what that could be. It had a question mark next to it, though Therion supposed they would simply have to see how that unfolded in the weeks to come of their journey. Therion was glad that they at least had a vague idea of where they were supposed to be going in terms of the shrine, and he was going to keep it in the back of his mind as they pressed forward to Bolderfall and then Goldshore. 

Speaking of Bolderfall, it was yet another location that had been crossed off on the map. Therion could already assume why without Cyrus needing to explain it; Bolderfall was likely a false positive because the dragonstones were there most of the time. The map was outdated and had been put together at least a decade and a half ago, presumably before the dragonstones were stolen. That meant the group had less than fifteen locations left to investigate with ten more shrines to find, and Therion couldn't help but think that was a great place for them to start given how daunting the task of the map had seemed at first. 

Ophilia wound up leaving breakfast early the following morning to conduct a quick sweep of their things to make sure they were packed. Therion went off to grab the dragonstone, glad that its powers hadn't done too much to influence him or Alfyn overnight. It was dangerous for them to be in such close quarters with the stone, but at least that wouldn't be a concern anymore. Therion didn't know how anybody was able to spend time in House Ravus as long as the dragonstones were all together given how toxic they seemed to be on one's mind, but he decided to not dwell on it. All that mattered then was getting the ruby stone back to Bolderfall so that they could continue their quest. 

Once all was finished the following morning in terms of food, the travelers left the inn behind and started for the outskirts of the town. Primrose had even decided to come along this time, seemingly having had enough of the suffocating sensation that came with being in Noblecourt without her father. Once Ophilia had joined them from her final sweep of their rooms, she nodded to Cyrus, and that was all the prompting the scholar needed in order to pull the staff from his bag. 

The Warp Staff was just as impressive as Therion remembered it being, and he stared at it carefully as he tried to figure out how Cyrus was going to use it. After all, it wasn't as if Alephan had been kind enough to give them a tutorial on how to utilize the staff to travel even though it was supposedly the godsend item that would save them from backtracking countless times across the continent. Cyrus was a sharp person at the very least, so he would be able to figure it out eventually... Or so Therion hoped. 

Luckily, it didn't take long for Cyrus to flick his wrist as the environment around the group changed. Light spread from the top of the staff, and Therion's vision immediately began to dance with overpowering shapes brought on by the sudden burst of illumination. He attempted to blink against the light before deciding it was a pointless effort, prompting him to press his eyes shut with as much force as he could stand. The world seemed to tilt around him, like he was falling through the air with no one there to catch him. This realization was almost enough to send Therion into a panic, and his chest went tight with the promise of his body starting to tear itself apart from paranoia. 

Before Therion could allow his fear to consume him though, the ground rushed up to meet his feet all too soon, and he glanced down to see that just as he had expected, they had touched down in the Cliftlands. They were in the wilderness not far from the entrance of Bolderfall, the crags and rocks forming the familiar outlines of cliffs in every direction. Therion blinked once again in an attempt to get a grasp of what had just happened, but the reality around him didn't change beyond what had already been shown. He was most certainly in the Cliftlands, and Bolderfall was a stone's throw away. 

"Wow...!" Tressa murmured, her hands clapping together in front of her chest. "That was amazing, Cyrus! How did you figure it out?!"

"I did a bit of testing last night just before settling down for the evening," Cyrus explained. That certainly made sense; Cyrus' insatiable curiosity wouldn't allow him to wait on testing the Warp Staff until the following morning. As long as the opportunity was there for him to learn more, he was going to take advantage of it. It was in his nature. Therion couldn't bring himself to complain though; it had no doubt saved them a lot of trouble in shortening their journey to Bolderfall. 

He ultimately shook it off and decided to start walking in the direction of the nearby town. As much as he would have liked to talk more about the strange powers of the Warp Staff, he knew that wasn't a good choice for any of them to make as long as the ruby dragonstone was still tucked away beneath Therion's cloak. The other members of the group seemed to realize this, and it didn't take long for them to gather their own bearings and trail after him. 

It was almost impressive just how little had changed about Bolderfall. In fact, it was almost like everything was the same as it had been before Therion left. He blinked a few times, still trying to make sure that he was seeing everything properly, before he shoved his concerns aside and started walking in the direction of Ravus Manor. He couldn't afford to get distracted. After all, they had a job to do, and Therion wasn't going to hold back on it. The sooner he could get rid of the ruby dragonstone, the better. 

Walking the familiar path to Ravus Manor felt strange given all that had happened since Therion was last going through these motions. Since he had last entered Ravus Manor, he had been roped into gathering the dragonstones, met H'aanit in S'warkii, fought against two of the gods of Orsterra, and traveled to Stillsnow to be met with what may have been his greatest existential crisis yet. That didn't even factor in the fact that he may or may not have been starting to care about people since his arrival in Noblecourt. 

There was a lot Therion was pretending to not think about. 

Much to Therion's surprise, it didn't take long for him to be let into the manor once he was in the area. In fact, the guards outside the building didn't even bother to give him trouble. The gates were opened easily, and Therion and the other members of his group were ushered into the manor. Therion was glad for the change of pace where sneaking into a place wasn't necessary, but at the same time, he was almost dreading seeing Heathcote and Cordelia again. It wasn't as if their last interaction had been particularly pleasant, and the two of them hadn't been given the chance to grow on Therion the way the others had been. 

The inside of the manor was just as massive as Therion remembered, but a few guards not far from the entrance went to grab Heathcote and Cordelia so the group could talk. Therion tapped his foot as he waited for them to arrive. He didn't like doing something like this away from the room where the dragonstones were being kept. He was still silently worried about being caught by someone who would find this affair strange, and Therion didn't want to deal with that any more than he absolutely had to. 

Eventually though, Cordelia and Heathcote did come into view, and they waved for the guards to leave the group be. Therion watched as the men all scattered to take care of other matters, though some of them seemed suspicious of Cordelia suddenly seeming so willing to talk to people without escorts. Cordelia, for her part, either didn't notice their strange stares or was choosing to not acknowledge it as she pushed a few strands of hair out of her face and watched Therion with worry etched clearly across her features. 

"I'm back," Therion began simply, though he supposed that was obvious enough by the fact that he was there at all. 

Cordelia, much to Therion's surprise, smiled as she took a small step closer to him. "I'm so glad to see you safe, Mr. Therion," she said simply. Her eternal politeness continued to catch Therion off guard given the fact that his world was filled to the brim with swears and snide remarks, but he did his best to stow his reaction, never one to attract unnecessary attention. 

Therion chose to not respond to what Cordelia was saying as he reached for the pocket containing the dragonstone. He pulled it out and held it out for both of them to see. "I brought the dragonstone," he told them bluntly. Both Cordelia and Heathcote's faces were immediately cast in the general scarlet glow. The dragonstone seemed to be giving off a bit of light because it had entered the manor, almost as if it could feel the presence of its sister and was aching for it in the silence. 

Heathcote took the dragonstone into his hands carefully, examining it with a small smile on his face. "This is indeed the ruby stone, without a doubt," he murmured. 

Cordelia bowed her head as a small smile spread across her features once more. "You have my gratitude."

"He is simply upholding his half of the deal, m'lady. He deserves no such thanks," Heathcote pointed out. Therion didn't know why that bothered him, but it felt like he was being stabbed in the chest by those words regardless of how true they were. "After all, he has yet to return the two remaining stones."

Cordelia's expression shifted to concern as she glanced over in Heathcote's direction with the barest traces of a frown on her face. "I think he's earned the removal of the band--"

"Stop and think about what you're saying," Therion cut in before he could stop himself. Speaking the words felt like betrayal for some reason, but he wasn't quite sure what it could possibly be. It felt as if he was hollowing out the inside of his body as he continued to insist on the bangle remaining. After all, this was what he wanted, wasn't it? No, that wasn't true. He didn't know what he wanted anymore. He had insisted for so long that he work along without anyone to get in his way, and yet, there he was, traveling the continent with seven others who he cared about in a way he didn't know how to describe. He was a different person than he had been when he was last in Bolderfall, and the idea of cheating Cordelia into removing the band felt... Wrong. Where the hell had this increased moral compass come from, and where could he return it?

There's no undoing this. You know that, don't you?

Cordelia's face reflected the same betrayal as the white-hot heat in Therion's chest. "I beg your pardon?"

"You can't guarantee I'll fulfill my promise if you remove this now," Therion told her as he held up the bangle. It jingled in the overhead sunlight, and Therion could feel the critical stares of his comrades at his side. They weren't saying anything about it, but they all knew he was lying. Hell, even Therion knew there was some degree of mistruth to what he was saying, not that he wanted to admit it. The cloud of something foreign yet so familiar hung over the conversation, and Therion was desperate to break through it even though he didn't know how. 

Deep down, he knew there was no way to do it, but he hoped for it regardless for a reason he didn't truly understand.

Cordelia's face went tight as she shook her head. "I believe you would."

Just like that, the cloud shattered like glass, and Cordelia's words echoed in Therion's mind as they slashed ruthlessly at his skin. He didn't let it show though, instead allowing one hand to slide onto his hip. "And why's that?" 

Cordelia stepped closer to him. Therion instinctively stepped back. "You don't strike me as someone who would abandon responsibility," she said. Therion didn't miss the way her eyes drifted in the direction of the other travelers who were watching the conversation dutifully and quietly. 

Therion refused to look over and see their striking expressions. "And you strike me as someone with way too much faith in people." 

You're talking about yourself. 

Therion had no reason to have faith in any of them. He was just working with them as per a business agreement with Cordelia and Heathcote. He shouldn't have cared about them, and yet... He did. They were different from the people Therion had connected with in the past, though he couldn't quite put a finger on why. A voice in the back of his head said that he was able to trust them because they were worth it unlike a certain someone from his past. It was dangerous to put faith in anyone, and Therion had learned that all too well ages ago. Despite this, he found himself falling too hard and trusting too much on a mission he knew he couldn't afford it. 

The worst part was that he couldn't bring himself to stop. He didn't think he even wanted to. 

Therion couldn't help the fact that he was still talking even though each word only seemed to put him through more silent pain. "Take it from me: no matter how much you trust someone, they will betray you. So do yourself a favor and build your walls up higher before you get hurt," he said softly, feeling like he was being speared through the chest as the other travelers continued to watch him. None of them commented on it openly, but Therion could tell they were thinking about it regardless. He didn't know why he was saying something so harsh right in front of them especially since he didn't think he wanted to, but he couldn't restrain the words once they started to push their way free of his lips. 

Cordelia looked as if she was the one he was talking about even though everyone in the area seemed to know better. Heathcote was glaring at Therion with a detached gaze, and the thief could tell that the butler could see right through every word he was saying. Cordelia took a step forward regardless, reaching one hand out toward him. "Mr. Therion--"

"Please, m'lady. That's quite enough," Heathcote interrupted, and Therion's chest went tight as the older man approached him carefully. He took a step back in surprise, feeling like he was falling all over again before the ground rushed up to meet his feet, just barely managing to cushion him before he broke on the rocks below. "Though I hate to admit it, he's right. It's best to not remove the band just yet."

Cordelia's expression was tight with concern, but she pressed her eyes closed regardless even when faced with such stress. "If you insist."

Therion pulled away from Heathcote, turning around so his back was facing the other occupants of the room. He didn't think he could bear to look at their disappointed faces any longer than he absolutely had to. "So where's the next stone?" he asked carefully, desperate to get back to the mission if it meant his emotions would stop fighting with the words he was speaking against his will. 

Heathcote took a few steps away, seeming to sense that Therion needed the space. "After a bit of digging, I found it to be in Wellspring," he replied simply. 

Therion's eyes hardened into a glare directed at the ground. "Any idea where in Wellspring?"

"That town is home to a black market," Heathcote went on. "The emerald dragonstone is being sold there in a few weeks' time... Or so my sources say."

"I'll be on my way then," Therion muttered. He was halfway tempted to make a comment about how he knew Heathcote was no ordinary butler since no plain old servant would know so much about the black market operating just beneath the surface of Orsterra. Heathcote was much more than just a regular butler, and Therion now had more tangible proof than just the fact that Heathcote had been able to slip the band around his wrist to begin with. He would have called the man out on it if he at all had the energy, but his chest still felt hollow from speaking in such a way that betrayed everything he had ever felt or known since he was last in Bolderfall. He didn't understand anything about his emotions or why he was acting the way he was anymore, but he wished he would figure out the answers soon. It was already starting to bother him for reasons he couldn't quite figure out how to describe. 

Therion was starting toward the door, the other travelers continuing to watch him silently as he did so. None of them wanted to start an argument in front of Cordelia or Heathcote as far as Therion could tell, but he could tell that it was just a matter of time before they started to talk to him about it. As soon as they were on the open road, all bets were off, and Therion hated that he was going to have to deal with the consequences of something he hadn't even wanted to say in the first place. 

"Good luck out there, Mr. Therion," came Cordelia's soft voice. Something about her was still unreadable after her brief spat with Therion, but the kindness had not melted away from her words even as her walls started to come up. She was taking Therion's advice to heart, it seemed, but he didn't want that. Deep down, he was tired of all the lies and hiding, but he knew he wasn't going to be able to break free of that for quite some time. After all, it seemed like all he wanted to do was sabotage himself whenever he came close to breaking free of his own sense of internalized duplicity. 

"You don't need to see me off. It's a waste of time for both of us," Therion muttered, once again hating himself for even daring to speak in such a blunt tone. All of a sudden, he yearned for the pain that had come when the ghisarma had thrown him around like a rag doll. It had hurt, yes, but it was nothing compared to how much damage Therion felt like he was doing as long as he was left unattended with his own thoughts. 

Cordelia's protests to his behavior weren't over yet though, and she took another step toward him. "But--"

Therion didn't give her the chance to say anything else, instead simply walking out of the room and vanishing through the entrance of the manor. Cordelia frowned at his retreating back, her hands clasped against one another tightly enough to turn her knuckles white. "Farewell."

The other travelers had stayed behind as well, and they turned to look at Heathcote and Cordelia in the silence. Nobody seemed to know what to say about the conversation that had just unfolded, and the travelers looked to one another uncertainly as they tried to get a feel for what the others were thinking. It was clear what they were trying to communicate, but they tested the waters regardless, almost as if they were afraid of what they might find. 

Heathcote stepped up and placed one hand on Cordelia's shoulder. She glanced up in his direction, a frown still prominent across her features. "Please don't burden yourself with him, Miss Ravus. Even that man has dignity to uphold," he told her simply. He had seen right through Therion's words, recognizing that it was all out of a matter of defensive pride that Therion didn't even seem to understand himself. 

"Dignity?" Cordelia echoed as she turned to face him in full. It was a strange word to apply to the situation, and she certainly seemed to have her own thoughts on Therion's blatant attempts to push away those around him. 

Heathcote nodded. "Though he may live an unscrupulous life, his skills as a thief keep him alive," he continued to say. "Naturally, he has pride and confidence in these skills, but we used them against him..." He glanced over to the nearby travelers, all of whom simply stared back at him with vague detachment, none of them sure how to phrase a response to the events that had just unfolded. "And I can imagine he feels great frustration when shown compassion and consideration by the very ones who deceived him." He shook his head. "If he did not feel such, I would not think him suitable for the job."

"I... I see..." Cordelia whispered, though she was still clearly lost in her own thoughts as she looked over to the doors Therion had vanished through. "He's a man with a lot of pride."

Heathcote seemed to sense something in her voice, a note of slight tension, and he turned to face her. "M'lady?"

"My apologies, Heathcote... But I can't help thinking of that lonesome look on his face," Cordelia murmured, her expression suddenly tainted with overwhelming amounts of guilt. "It reminded me of myself back then..."

Heathcote went tense. "Is that so?"

"Yes. His words may have been harsh, but I could tell his true feelings were different..." Cordelia said softly. She looked to the door once more, and Heathcote followed suit. A moment later, their attention shifted to the group of travelers Therion had entered with. Cordelia sighed in their direction before turning on her heel. "Excuse me."

The group of seven fell silent as Cordelia retreated from the room, Heathcote hot on her heels the entire way. Ophilia was the first one to move, and she was quick to dash out of the building, off to do what she could to talk to Therion. The others followed after her at a much slower pace, seeming to sense that approaching Therion all at once wasn't going to help them in the slightest with their newfound problem of demeanor. Ophilia would be able to handle it, and they simply had to have faith in that. 

~~~~~

Therion was able to snag an apple from someone on his way out of the manor, and he leaned against the side of a building as he took a bite. His body was shrouded in shadow, and most people who passed by completely missed him. Ophilia, however, was much too smart for that, too aware of his habits to allow his attempts at escape to pass her by. She stood at the head of the alleyway and looked at him carefully, sympathy spreading across her features as soon as she saw him. 

Therion didn't look up at her, not wanting to do anything that could potentially rub the situation the wrong way. He simply took another bite of the apple. Ophilia sighed silently before she moved to stand just beside him, staring up at the sky as it peered between the buildings in tiny slivers of cerulean. "You don't have to do any of this alone," Ophilia murmured softly. 

Therion still refused to turn in her direction, and Ophilia took that as her cue to continue. "I know it seems like being alone is easier sometimes, but... I can say that it's not like that. You deserve to be able to rely on others the same way everyone else does. I know you don't want to recognize it, but... It's the truth," she went on. "It's not easy to have your entire world shifted beneath your feet. The rest of us though... We're all here for you no matter what happens. You're not in this alone no matter what meets us in Wellspring, Goldshore, or anywhere beyond that."

Therion finally peered over at Ophilia, a frown heavy on his features. "You don't know what you're talking about," he said softly, hating the fact that he was still talking when he didn't want to be saying anything like this in the first place. "I'm not... I'm not the person you want to be traveling with. I don't even want to be here."

"That's not true," Ophilia told him quickly, not even waiting for him to explain his thoughts. "Every person is deserving of connections with others, and that includes you. I don't know what happened before to make you trust people so little, but you're out of that situation. It's hard to convince yourself that you're safe, but... Trust me when I say that you are. The rest of us aren't going to let anything like that happen to you."

Therion's posture shifted ever so slightly in response to Ophilia's words. He didn't know how she could have figured out something like that, but he hated just how close to home she was hitting without even trying. No, that wasn't true. She was trying, and she almost seemed to be a bit too familiar with the unfortunate situation Therion had dealt with in the past. He never would have expected that at a first glance, but he could tell that she was dealing with a lot more than he could have ever imagined. 

"I could tell that you had trust issues back when we first met," Ophilia admitted carefully. "Something about you just... It told me that you were struggling with a lot, and I knew that you didn't want to reach out to us. I'm not going to force you before you're ready to talk to us about what's going on, but... As long as you understand that we're all here for you, we should be alright. The instant you're ready to talk, all you have to do is find us. You're not in this alone. All of us are here because we want to be."

Therion rose to his full height, and he tossed aside the core of the apple he had been eating throughout their conversation. "Yeah," he said bluntly, not sure about how else he was supposed to respond to her words. "I guess so." He wanted to believe her, and deep down, Therion was sure that he did believe her. At the same time though, that primal fear of trust, the horror that came with reaching out and potentially getting burned for it, still lingered in the back of his mind. It was never far from his focus no matter what he tried to do. That had been the case for years, and he somehow doubted it was going to change that easily.

Ophilia reached out one hand in his direction, her smile so perfect in the minimal sunlight of the alleyway. "Let's go," she told him carefully. "We're all here for you as long as you're willing to have us. Self-sabotage is difficult to push through, but... You don't have to do this on your own. As long as you know that we're here... It's going to be alright."

Therion once again wondered how she was able to guess that it had anything to do with self-sabotage, but he decided that he wasn't going to ask her about it. Instead, he simply nodded and allowed himself to push out of the alleyway. Ophilia's presence was as warm as the sun beside him all the way, and Therion's stomach twisted. He was so tempted to let her in, to explain everything that had ever happened to him, but he couldn't do it yet, not with Ophilia, and not with anyone else either. 

He would get there one day. His sabotage wouldn't last forever, and when it did end... Maybe he would finally find peace. 

Chapter Text

Once Ophilia had found Therion and talked to him (or at least talked to him as much as she was going to be able to for the time being), the pair started to make their way back in the direction of the Ravus estate where the others were waiting. Given the size of Bolderfall, it would be easy for the group to get lost, so the silent agreement was for everyone else to wait back at House Ravus for when Ophilia returned with Therion.

Ophilia could sense the thickness and anxiety hanging in the air around all of them. Nobody seemed to want to look into Therion's eyes after all that he had said. He was still confrontational and on edge from his conversation with Cordelia and Heathcote, and he didn't see to want to yield any information about what exactly had caused him to behave in such a way. Pushing him on it would only upset him and lead to rifts in the center of their group, and giving him the space he needed seemed to be the best option. It wasn't perfect, but it wasn't as if they had all that much else to do to fix the issue at hand. 

Ophilia frowned gently at the other members of the group before turning her attention to Cyrus. "Alright... I guess we should head back to Noblecourt now," she announced. "We can get back there and then start moving toward Goldshore before midday if we leave Bolderfall and use the Warp Staff now. Unless we have something else to do here in Bolderfall, we should head out."

There were no objections to that, and in fact, everyone seemed all too happy to get as far away from Bolderfall as possible. If they were traveling to Goldshore, then they would likely be able to get away with going silent for a while as they tried to figure out how to work their ways into Therion's issue. His actions of self-sabotage and internalized self-hatred ran deep, and all of them wanted to do something to help him out of it. That wasn't going to be easy, but they had to do something. 

As Ophilia was turning on her heel, she felt a sudden wave of nausea slam into her with the force of a tidal wave. Before she could register what was happening, an empty wheeze of a breath was pushing itself free of her lips. The world seemed to spin around her as the ground was stolen from beneath her feet. All of a sudden, the gentle winds of the Cliftland crags were gone, and Ophilia's vision went dark for a few moments. She was vaguely aware of the fact that she was falling backwards, but she had no idea how or what was happening. Fear overwhelmed every part of her body, and she felt like she was going to be sick to her stomach.

Ophilia was distantly aware of hands wrapping around her upper arms, and she blinked rapidly as she tried to get a grip on her surroundings once again. The world still felt like it was crumbling around her, and it took a long moment for her to figure out what was happening around her. All of a sudden, she was back in Bolderfall, the wind gently pressing itself upon her features as she stared up at the blue skies overhead. Just as quickly as the rush of weakness had come, it was gone. 

"Ophilia? Art thou alright?"

Ophilia realized upon hearing that voice that H'aanit was the one behind her. The huntress had grabbed her as she was on the way to hitting the ground, and H'aanit was the only one who was still keeping her somewhat upright. Ophilia glanced at H'aanit carefully as she tried to gain her footing once again, pushing herself back to her full height slowly but surely. She was still shaking because of how suddenly her moment of vertigo had come upon her, and it felt like the Ember was screaming from its place at her hips. She didn't know why the lanthorn seemed to be reacting so strangely and strongly, but she was confident that she was going to completely lose her sense of self if she was left alone for much longer. 

"Yeah..." Ophilia whispered, the words a faint trace of a whisper being swallowed by the wind. She knew it was a lie, but she couldn't figure out for the life of her why this was an issue to begin with. Her stomach was doing flips in her stomach like it was trying to burst free of her body thanks to her anxiety and fear. She didn't know what was happening to her or why this had happened, but she was certain that there had to be a reason for it... Right?

Ophilia blinked a few mote times as she tried to get a grip on reality once more. Everyone else was gathered around her to make sure that she was alright, and she could feel their concerned eyes. Primrose had wrapped an arm around Ophilia's shoulders on top of H'aanit continuing to hold the cleric upright. However, Ophilia wasn't paying attention in the slightest to the worried gazes locking straight on her or the way Primrose was holding her so tenderly like she thought Ophilia would break at a moment's notice.

Instead, Ophilia was staring ahead of her where the silhouette of a woman could be seen.

She was just outside the boundaries of that which was considered Ravus territory. Her hands rested gently on a balcony overlooking the rest of the city of Bolderfall. She wore a simple dark dress that flowed ever so slightly in the breeze. Her hair was a deep purple color so dark it almost edged on being black. Her eyes were a scarlet color gleaming in the morning sunlight, and everything about her seemed critical. She was searching Bolderfall for something, and even if it was hard to see the details of the city from her place near House Ravus' territory, she didn't seem to mind in the slightest. Her expression was unreadable, but everything about her was somewhat sinister. 

Olberic was the first one to approach the woman, a tense and heavy knot in his shoulders as he walked closer in a burst of solemn defensiveness. He had noticed just how much Ophilia was staring at the woman, and he could tell that there was something amiss about her presence. Ophilia halfway wanted to say something to stop him, but she could barely bring herself to stay standing, much less to speak on the matter at hand. Her body felt like it was made of lead, and Ophilia didn't think she had ever felt this overwhelmingly weak physically before. She couldn't say why it had happened or where it had come from, but something about the woman with dark hair made every part of her body feel repulsed down to the very core.

On his way over to speak with the woman, Olberic passed by a small tree not far from where she was positioned. As he was going by the tree, he heard a small dreamy sigh. Olberic immediately stopped walking and turned to see who had been behind it, and he was met with the silhouette of a young man wearing silver armor. He was lax with a small smile on his face, and it seemed as if he had been caught in a trance as he stared at the woman. 

Olberic took a moment as he got a hand on his shock, and he shifted his attention from the woman to the young man. He seemed to be a guard of some kind, though he certainly didn't belong to House Ravus' faction of mercenaries. Olberic frowned as he took a step closer to the man where he stood in the shade of the tree. "Do you know something about that woman?" he asked sternly. 

"That woman... I think she might be the perfect one for me," the young man replied, a dreamy sigh pushing its way free of his lips. His expression was lovesick, and given that this was the exact opposite reaction from what Olberic had expected, all he could do was blink as the man continued. "Oh, how can I ever get her to glance in my direction?"

As if on cue, the woman turned to face Olberic and the young man in armor, and she examined Olberic carefully. Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized him, but she didn't seem to notice the other man in the slightest. The woman glanced past Olberic to the rest of his traveling party, and from where she was standing, she was able to see everyone in the group aside from Ophilia. Primrose and H'aanit had positioned themselves in such a way that blocked the young cleric from view as they made sure that she was alright, not that the woman seemed to mind much. She watched the peculiar party for a long moment before she turned to look back to the balcony nearby. 

The young man seemed to think that she had looked at him though, and he let out a long, dreamy sigh. "What a beauty..." he murmured, his hands pressing together at his chest like the air had been pushed from his lungs. 

Olberic frowned as he looked over to the woman before focusing his attention back on the man. "What's your name?" he asked. 

"Alphas," the man answered with a bright grin. "And I'm going to do what I can to make sure that woman understands that it was meant to be for us!"

Before the young man could say anything else, the woman pulled away from the balcony, seemingly satisfied with whatever it was that she had been doing. She looked to Olberic once again before glancing past him to the other members of his traveling party. She didn't seem impressed by him in the slightest, but her eyes were striking enough to make it seem as if she was piercing him through the chest merely by looking in his direction. Olberic's shoulders seized tightly with nerves, and he wondered just what was going on with this woman beneath the surface. 

"I have been searching for some time for the perfect person," the woman said next as she examined Olberic carefully with her gaze. 

"I have also been searching for the perfect mate," Alphas chimed in, taking a step toward her even though she wasn't looking in his direction in the slightest. 

The woman shook her head as she observed Alphas next. "But you are not that person," she said bluntly, and Alphas' heart looked as if it had been split in two with those simple six words. 

Alphas stumbled backward by a few steps. "What?!" he exclaimed in surprise, the word coming out as a yelp rather than an intentional creation of a syllable. 

The woman thought for a moment before she continued to speak. "He should have golden hair... And eyes of the deepest blue... And despite his name, he would surely never dare to cross me... Yes... His devotion to me would be complete," she murmured. She didn't seem to be paying any attention to the people in front of her at this point, instead too focused on her own musings to care. "He would give me everything. And when I find this perfect man... Everything will change. The entire world will change."

Alphas seemed taken aback by those words, but the woman didn't care in the slightest about his surprise. "No... It doesn't seem like you're him," she went on casually. Her voice was like silk, constantly flowing and smooth in the most terrifying way possible. "Farewell then."

The woman started to walk away with that, descending the stairs that led to the rest of Bolderfall effortlessly. It was almost as if she wasn't even human with how perfectly articulated her movements were. Olberic's body once again felt chilled to the bone at her mere existence, and his stomach went tight with fear and anxiety. 

"W-Wait! But you're my..." Alphas cried after her weakly. He raised one hand in her direction before letting it fall back to his side, a dejected expression manifesting on his features. He thought for a moment before he took after the woman. "I won't be dissuaded so easily!"

Olberic watched Alphas go with confusion still painted across his face, and he let out a sigh before turning in the direction of the other travelers. He moved carefully and quickly toward them, resting one hand on Ophilia's shoulder as soon as he was close enough to do so. "Are you feeling any better, Ophilia?" he asked carefully. 

Ophilia nodded, rubbing one arm across her head. She had started to sweat, though Olberic somehow doubted that it had anything to do with the natural heat of the Cliftlands. "Yes... I'm fine," she murmured. She was still on the pale side, no doubt unsettled by what had happened whether she wanted to admit it or not. She shook her head soon afterward and reached for the Ember, grabbing tightly at the handle of the Lanthorn to let out her lingering traces of anxiety. She sighed before shaking her head. "Let's go back to Noblecourt... We should make for Goldshore as soon as possible."

Ophilia was the first one to start walking toward the entrance of the town, and the others all shared hesitant and nervous glances before following her. Linde and Hägen, who were normally glued to H'aanit's side, instead moved up to the area around Ophilia to be there to catch her in case she fell. Tressa stayed closer to Ophilia than usual as well, concern still spelled upon her eyes even if she didn't say anything about it out loud. She glanced over at the cleric every once in a while just to make sure that Ophilia was still standing, and the other travelers did the same from behind Ophilia, though they were much more subtle about it than the young merchant.

Despite their strange encounter with the woman outside the Ravus estate, the group was able to make their way out of Bolderfall without any other issues. They didn't run into the peculiar woman or Alphas again after that, though nobody seemed to mind such a thing in the slightest. If there really was something wrong with the woman to the point that it had caused Ophilia to nearly lose consciousness, then they were more than fine with staying as far away from the dark-haired woman as possible. 

Olberic kept glancing up to the Lanthorn, catching a glimpse at the edge of it when he was able to see around Ophilia's slight frame. The Ember was gleaming ever so slightly, though something about it seemed ominous. Ophilia was much more sensitive than the others to the matters of the divine thanks to the fact that she was the Flamebearer, and Olberic was left to wonder if perhaps that had something to do with why Ophilia had suddenly seemed so sick. None of the others had suffered from such a thing, and she had been fine up to that point. It wasn't a perfect explanation--especially since there was no way of saying just what about the woman could have upset the balance of the Ember and, by extension, Ophilia--but it was something Olberic was going to keep in mind for the time being. He hated that they were in this situation at all, but at least he would be able to look after Ophilia alongside the other members of the group for the time being.

Ophilia stopped walking once they were outside of Bolderfall, and Cyrus reached into his bag to pull out the Warp Staff. He raised it above his head after he had made sure they were alone, and all it took was a quick flick of his wrist for the sensation of magic from before to come rushing back. Olberic hadn't particularly enjoyed the feeling of teleporting before, but he doubted he was going to be free of it any time soon. Instead of complaining about it, he simply clamped his eyes closed and waited for the spinning to fade away. 

When Olberic next touched down on the ground, he was outside Noblecourt. He could tell by the way the calls of the birds changed from shrieks over the crags to chirps on the breeze. He opened his eyes and saw that just as he had expected, his location had changed. He glanced to the other members of the group to see how they were doing after the disorienting change in their surroundings. Hägen was unbothered, but Linde was clinging closely to H'aanit's side like she thought the huntress would be able to help her out of the unfortunate dizzy spell that had followed the teleportation process. 

Tressa was still standing next to Ophilia, and she looked up to the cleric with concern written clearly on her face. "How are you feeling?" she asked. Olberic didn't think he had ever heard Tressa speak so tenderly, and her worry was palpable enough to attract the attention of the other members of the group. 

Ophilia thought about it for a moment before she nodded. "Better," she replied. The color was starting to return to her features, and she was able to carry herself easily the same way she had before their encounter with the strange woman. "I don't know why I got so sick all of a sudden, but I'm glad it's over. At least we can start walking in the direction of Goldshore now, right?"

Olberic nodded and entered the town again a moment later. The others followed him, all focused on retrieving their things for the journey ahead. His mind was hardly on the task at hand though, and his thoughts were rapidly switching between recalling Therion's dark and solemn words and the way Ophilia had almost collapsed under the weight of something that none of them truly understood. Both were pressing issues, but Olberic had no idea how he was supposed to help to solve either one of them. 

When it came to Therion, Olberic wanted to reach out and help him. However, he also knew that the only way Therion was going to get the assistance he needed was if he actually wanted to be helped. Therion didn't seem to want to reach out at the moment, and Olberic didn't want to push it and make him uncomfortable by accident. He could tell despite Therion's harsh words that the thief cared more for the rest of the group than he wanted to admit. He was afraid of saying that he cared, but that didn't change the fact that the truth was all too obvious and present. Therion would come to his own conclusions on it in time, and Olberic didn't want to cross any lines unless he absolutely had to. He hadn't wanted anyone's help after what had happened in Hornburg, and his emotional situation would have likely only gotten worse if someone got involved against his wishes. In other words, leaving Therion be was the best option whether Olberic liked it or not. 

Ophilia's problem was much more bizarre, and Olberic didn't think he was going to be able to come up with a solution to it easily. He didn't know who the strange woman was, but it seemed as if her presence had been what caught Ophilia so off guard. She had been fine around the dragonstones, and nothing was wrong when they entered House Ravus either. It was only after the woman arrived while she was fetching Therion that something seemed to go wrong. They didn't even know her name or what she could have wanted, just that there was something peculiar about her. Olberic was fine with the fact that she was no longer present for Ophilia's sake, but he couldn't help feeling as if he was missing a large piece of this puzzle that could have very easily meant something in the future. 

It wasn't as if Olberic had any proof for this, but he could sense there was something amiss. It was a talent Olberic had possessed for much of his life, a natural instinct for understanding when something was wrong in the world around him. He could tell thanks to this gut belief that the woman was not who she appeared to be on the surface, and he barely even know what that was supposed to mean. Olberic hoped that they would never have to cross paths with the strange woman again, but something told him that their luck was hardly going to be as kind as he would have liked.

Olberic was so lost in thought that he barely realized he had gathered all of his supplies until after Cyrus had finished his final scan of the room. The scholar had been silent since they entered the room, no doubt lost in his own thoughts regarding what had taken place that morning. It had only been two hours since they woke up to face the day, but it felt as if they had dealt with a day's worth of obstacles and then some. At least they would be on the road again shortly. That would give them all the time they needed to think through their next steps after they arrived in Goldshore. 

"Do you think Therion will be alright?"

The sound of Cyrus' voice pulled Olberic out of his thoughts, and he looked over to see the scholar with concern glossing over his gaze. He had tucked away the map Barham had given him the day before as he brushed off a few pieces of rock that had gotten stuck on his cloak while they were in Bolderfall. Cyrus was trying to distract himself since he didn't know how to handle the problem, in other words. Cyrus wanted to tackle problems as soon as he could, and the issue at hand was too nuanced and complex for him to approach it as he would have liked. Arguably, that was true for all of them. 

Olberic nodded firmly as he offered his own glance across the room to make sure they hadn't left anything behind. "Therion needs a bit of time to himself. A lot has happened over the last few weeks, and when he's ready, he'll reach out to us. I trust him to understand his own limits," Olberic replied. "Therion knows how to handle himself, and even if it isn't easy, we have to trust that he can look after what he needs to without the rest of us needing to get involved."

Cyrus hummed in response, still worried and not entirely convinced. "I wish there was something I could say to make him realize that we're all here if he needs us for any reasons, related to the mission or otherwise," he murmured with a shake of his head. 

Olberic would have been lying if he said he knew what to say to make it better. The best thing they could do for Therion for the time being was just give him time to come around on his own, and while it wasn't going to be easy to just step back after all that the thief had said, it was the best option any of them had. Hopefully, Therion would come around by the time they arrived at Goldshore, though Olberic knew better than to raise his hopes too high. It was going to take time, but they would handle it somehow. He was sure of it. 

"We should meet with the others as soon as possible," Cyrus declared, seeming to realize that lingering on the subject wasn't going to do either one of them much good. He gave the room one final glance before starting toward the door. "It seems as if we have everything."

Olberic nodded his agreement and opened the door before allowing Cyrus to walk out first. The scholar gave him a smile and a nod along with his polite thanks, and Olberic closed the door behind them before leaving the building behind entirely. He dropped off the key to their room at the front desk along the way before pushing his way out of the entrance.

They were met with the sight of the other members of the group already gathered together. Ophilia was doing much better already, and she looked as if she had never been sick to begin with. That only left Olberic with more questions when it came to her strange shift of behavior, and Cyrus appeared to be even more curious than he was somehow. In fact, Cyrus seemed to be scrutinizing Ophilia for any signs of understanding when it came to what had taken place while they were in Bolderfall. They were all just as curious as he was about Ophilia's moment of weakness, but they chose to not say anything about it. The answers would come with time, and as much as Olberic hated to admit it, they could probably rely on something like that happening again.

"Let's get going," Tressa announced. Olberic pretended to not see the way Tressa continued to stand much closer to Ophilia than she ever had before. Even if the two had been roommates during their stays in hotels as they drifted from town to town, Tressa had never acted this way, and it was no doubt brought on by her nerves regarding Ophilia almost collapsing. In fact, Tressa seemed to be silently evaluating the situation to see what she would have to do in order to catch Ophilia if it came to that. Olberic hoped that wasn't necessary, but he had to appreciate the effort Tressa was putting in, at the very least. 

There were no objections to Tressa's suggestion that they set off, and Primrose led them out of Noblecourt a moment later. She had pulled her hood up above her head once more, the anxiety of being in Noblecourt having struck her all over again. She would have to return eventually no matter what came next in their respective journeys, but for the time being, she was much too focused on getting out of town to care about what she could expect to be met with later on. 

The open plains outside Noblecourt were much the same as they had been the last time the group was in the area. Olberic let out a small sigh, glad that they had been able to accomplish so much during their brief trip into the city. If all went well, they would be able to get just as much done while they were in Goldshore, though Olberic supposed that would be a bit harder to track since they didn't have as much of a reason to be there. The primary motivation for them traveling to Goldshore in the first place came in the form of the shrines and the Warp Staff. After all, they were going to have to return to Goldshore eventually as part of the Kindling, so they might as well save themselves some time while they were in the area. 

On the note of the shrines and the Warp Staff, Cyrus had taken out the map and was staring at it carefully. He had already done an impressive job of narrowing down where the shrines were located, and Olberic was glad that he had been able to do so much in such a short span of time. On the other hand, Olberic wanted nothing to do with the map if it could at all be avoided. It was helpful, yes, but it was also a brutal reminder of all that had been lost. 

At this point, Olberic's greatest hope regarding the shrines was that there wouldn't be one in Hornburg. After all, the once-great civilization had been reduced to a ghost town, and it would be difficult for them to get there, much less to fight through anything that may or may not have been waiting for them there. Olberic hated the idea of having to return to his home, knowing that it would do nothing but leave him feeling weak and emotionally arrested inside out. There were other locations where the shrines could have been though, and Olberic was hoping that the stars aligned in a way that kept them from being placed in the tragic position of having to travel to Hornburg. He didn't have much of a say in where the shrines were located since the gods had already decided where to place the holy spaces, but he could still hope. 

Olberic tore his gaze away from the map and focused on the world around him. It shouldn't take too much longer for them to get to Goldshore, though he could only imagine that they would be encountering a few nasty beasts on the way. The monsters around Goldshore were particularly brutal, and only the sands of Wellspring and the very borders of the continent were more dangerous as far as he was concerned. Monsters grew stronger the farther they got from the Central Sea of Orsterra as the influence of the gods dwindled near the borders, and given how far Goldshore was from everything else aside from Grandport, they were in for quite a bit of trouble. 

The least they could do was try to push through it though. After all, they had to gather the blessings of the gods if they wanted to find out more about the mission they had been given by Aelfric. There was still so much they didn't understand, and perhaps the shrine that seemed to be in the Goldshore area would be able to answer their questions. Maybe then Olberic would finally get some confirmation that they would never have to travel in the direction of Hornburg. 

Deep down though, Olberic already knew that there was no point in hoping so strongly. It was only a matter of time before destiny returned him to the place of his greatest regrets, and there was no way to fight the sands of fate itself.

Chapter Text

Tressa didn't know what was going on with Therion, but she decided that she didn't like it.

It bothered just how quickly he was able to change when he was pushed the wrong way. Worse, she didn't even know what was going on to make him act strangely after being so nice before that point. Therion had seemed almost proud of her when she was able to give him the last push needed to break into Orlick's mansion to steal the dragonstone. She could sense the gratitude in his eyes even if he never spoke a word of it. He was happy to be around the rest of the group even though he didn't want to admit it. When Therion spent time with them, he seemed to lose much of the tension in his shoulders, allowing himself to smile behind his scarf and hope the others didn't notice. It was so strange how someone that Tressa had expected to despise was actually turning out to be incredibly sweet, not that he wanted to say such a thing. She doubted he even liked her thinking it, and yet, there she was.

Hearing him say that he was better off alone so suddenly after all of that was like a punch to the stomach for Tressa. She hadn't even realized she was at risk of being stabbed in the back that way until it happened. It wasn't as if Tressa thought that Therion was perfectly in sync with everyone else yet. She knew better than to believe something like that given the fact that hesitation still seemed to rule quite a few of his actions, but that didn't mean she saw it coming when he suddenly shifted his demeanor and acted as if the others were wasting their time by being around him. 

Tressa had spoken with Ophilia about it briefly while they were packing their things to head for Goldshore, and Ophilia seemed to think that it was a matter of self-sabotage rather than anything else. Therion was afraid of reaching out and was throwing up walls haphazardly because he feared getting hurt. Ophilia seemed to know the feeling all too well, leaving Tressa with more questions than answers. She asked how she could help Therion, something she never thought she would do, but Ophilia simply smiled sadly and shook her head. 

"He has to decide he wants help on his own. We can't push him into anything yet."

That hurt almost as much as what Therion had said, truth be told, though Tressa didn't want to say such a thing out loud. It felt ridiculous that she was letting her feelings get hurt by something like this, and yet, there she was, feeling as if her stomach had been hollowed out by words that Therion hadn't even wanted to speak in the first place. If he didn't want to be mean, then why did he say those awful things to begin with? Even if it was him hating himself rather than being upset with the others, it still hurt Tressa a lot more than she wanted to admit, and she wanted to curl in on herself and wait until the pain went away, though she could already tell it wasn't going to be that easy.

Therion was one problem that Tressa didn't know how to solve, and she didn't think there was a solution that wouldn't end with Therion snapping at her and possibly making the situation worse. Under most circumstances, Tressa would just deal with her fear of causing everything to explode and storm right into his heart and force him into honesty, but the last thing she wanted to do was poke someone as volatile as Therion in the wrong place. It was a terrible situation, but she knew that keeping her distance was probably her best move. After all, Tressa didn't know much when it came to how Therion worked deep down, but she could tell that this was something that she had no knowledge of and would probably only get worse if she got too close. It stung, but she knew that Ophilia had a point even if she hated to admit it more than anything else.

Even if Tressa couldn't solve the Therion problem though, there was something she could do about Ophilia. The cleric was better than she had been back in Bolderfall, yes, but Tressa could tell that there was still something on her mind. If Tressa had to guess, it was a mix between wondering just what had caused Ophilia to feel so sick out of the blue like that and wondering what to do about Therion. Her mind had been going back and forth for the last two hours since they left Noblecourt, and even as they fought off the monsters of the coast, Tressa found herself trying to find a solution to everything that had proven to be so problematic that morning.

For the time being, Tressa was choosing to stick as close to Ophilia as possible. That way, she would be able to catch Ophilia if she wound up feeling sick to her stomach again. Ophilia was larger than Tressa was in terms of height, but Tressa liked to think that she had the strength needed to keep Ophilia from completely crumbling if need be. After all, Ophilia was rather frail, perhaps only matched by Cyrus in that department. Surely Tressa would be able to do at least something to help the situation if she had to, right? If she couldn't do anything about what was bothering Therion, the least she could do was try to pitch in and help Ophilia. It was the one thing that was keeping her from losing her mind under the weight of all that was happening, and she wasn't going to be letting go of it quite so easily.

Cyrus was still humming and looking down at the map when Primrose suddenly snarled, sinking into a defensive posture. She had been somewhat on edge for the last few hours, better than she had been when they were in Noblecourt but still anxious. Tressa could only imagine that it was a deep instinct of protectiveness that was brought on by the sudden shift in Therion's behavior and Ophilia's bout of vertigo. She felt much the same way, but she liked to think that she was nowhere near as violent about it.

Primrose, on the other hand, didn't hesitate to sink her dagger into a monster that had come a bit too close. She lashed out with such overwhelming force that it didn't even seem real to Tressa. Just as soon as the creature had appeared, it was sent retreating by the strike from Primrose. The dancer yanked her knife free of the monster, and Tressa couldn't even get a glance at the beast before it was gone from view. Primrose looked down at the blood on her blade before reaching for the cloth she had been using to clean the weapon after combat. She wiped the dagger free of red liquid before falling silent again. 

The other members of the group watched her carefully, and Tressa wondered if anyone was going to say anything. When none of them did, she decided that she had to do something. Hägen and Linde wound up taking her place at Ophilia's sides, and Tressa dashed off to Primrose's side, speaking quietly to make sure that the other members of the group weren't able to hear. "Hey, Primrose," Tressa smiled gently, hoping that she wasn't pushing any buttons by approaching her. 

Primrose perked up when she noticed that Tressa was there, and a small smile appeared on her face. "How are you doing?" she asked casually. She sheathed her dagger and tucked the cloth out of view, and Tressa resisted the urge to frown. One thing that she had learned about Primrose since they met was that she was a woman of duality. Primrose was kind and gentle outside of combat, doing what she could to look after others with her natural maternal aura, but when she was in combat, she was vicious, fighting like it was all she knew how to do. She struck at monsters like she thought they were going to take away everything that she had loved, though after the outburst Therion had displayed that morning, Tressa was left to wonder if Primrose knew at all what she was trying to defend from the beasts that wanted nothing to do with her.

It took Tressa a moment to get a grip on herself after noticing the sudden swing of Primrose's personality, and she blinked twice before managing to come back to awareness. "Oh, um... I'm good," she said with a small smile even though she knew that she was being far from convincing. Unlike Primrose, acting did not come easily to Tressa, and it only took a moment of the dancer watching her for Tressa to let out a heavy sigh. "I don't know what to do about Therion. I want to help him, but I don't know where to start."

Something in Primrose's gaze went dark for a flicker of a moment, and the dark-haired woman looked out at the horizon ahead. "There are some people who struggle to connect with others for some reason or another," she murmured. "Once your trust has been broken, it's difficult to mend once again. Getting back to the way you were before... It's a long, arduous process."

"It sounds like you have experience with that," Tressa whispered even though she wasn't at all sure if this was the right direction to be taking the conversation. Her anxiety was already starting to spike even though she knew Primrose wasn't going to judge her for anything they said to one another.

For a long moment, Primrose stared at Tressa before she shrugged and looked back at their path once more. "I guess you could say that," she admitted. "After my father died, I was left to face the world on my own. The betrayal of having his death... It hit me hard. It took me a long time to start trusting people again after that."

"Not until Yusufa," Tressa finished for her, and Primrose nodded sadly. Before Tressa could stop herself, she kept talking, only realizing what she had said when it was too late. "You're still working on it. You still don't trust people."

As soon as Tressa registered what she had said, her eyes went wide as she winced and prepared to clamp her hands over her mouth. She was afraid of what she was going to be met with when she looked up to Primrose once again, and the white-hot anxiety continued to linger in her mind as she forcefully pushed her gaze in the dancer's direction. She could already tell that she had made a mistake, and she could only hope it didn't come back to bite her too much.

Primrose was watching Tressa with shock before she let out a sober yet bittersweet laugh. "I suppose so," she admitted. She looked down at the ground below, striking a small rock with her sandal. "It's a work in progress. I'm trying to get better, and I know that Therion is too. It might take a bit of time for him to come around, but everything worthwhile takes time. We just need to give him the support and space he needs for now. He'll realize what we mean to him soon enough. I'm sure of it."

"Do... Do you think Therion is going to leave?" Tressa asked uncertainly. Even though she knew that it was probably ridiculous, she found herself silently afraid of the possibility of Therion departing from their party because of what he had said that morning. Tressa had never expected to like being around him so much, but if Therion was gone... Their group would just feel incomplete. The eight of them had already been through a lot, and Tressa didn't want to be without any of them if it was at all possible. 

Primrose looked over to Therion, and Tressa followed her gaze. Therion was staring down at the ground, watching as he put one foot in front of the other in a cautious yet melodic cycle. Primrose looked over to Tressa once again with a small smile on her face, though Tressa could still sense the tragedy behind her grin. "Not at all," Primrose replied. "He needs a bit of time to understand all of this... And he'll come to his own conclusions in time. It's all going to be fine. As long as we're willing to be there for him--which we are--then it's going to be fine. You have nothing to worry about."

Tressa nodded at that with a small smile. she still didn't feel great about the situation between Therion's stoicism and the fact that Primrose didn't even seem to trust the group in full, but at least it was something. Primrose was going to be staying with them, and if she thought that Therion would be sticking around too, then Tressa believed her. After all, part of friendship meant having faith in the other people, and as hard as it was, the best thing Tressa could do was place her confidence in Therion. 

Before Tressa or Primrose could say anything else to continue the conversation, Cyrus let out a gasp. That was enough to pull everyone's attention in his direction, and Tressa followed his gaze to the Ember. It was gleaming proudly within the Lanthorn, and Tressa found herself smiling as the salty seaside air blew through the area. 

"It seems the map led us to another shrine just as we were hoping it would," Ophilia smiled as she pulled the Lanthorn up to eye level. She hooked it back on her belt again a moment later, and Cyrus looked down to the map before starting to line the remaining steps that would take them to the upcoming shrine. 

Tressa couldn't help but smile at the sight. She closed her eyes for a few seconds and allowed herself to just enjoy the atmosphere. Even if it seemed like there was a lot she didn't understand, she was able to be at peace for a few fleeting moments. She and the others were going to find another shrine, and after that, they would make for Goldshore and hopefully have a bit of fun there before going to Stonegard. Of course, there were no guarantees that would be the case, but Tressa was hoping with everything she had. After all, they had been through more than enough between Stillsnow and Noblecourt, and that wasn't even taking everything before that into account. They deserved a bit of a break. 

The weather was so perfect that Tressa could hardly believe it, truth be told. It reminded her a lot of Rippletide, though the salty air of the sea was so much grander here. Tressa could practically smell adventure coming her way, and even without the shrine, Tressa felt as if she was going to find a perfect treasure soon enough. She had bought a few things in the past at the other towns they entered, but nothing quite felt right to her yet. There had to be something out there that would satisfy her curiosity. For all she knew, Goldshore would be the place for her to find everything that she had ever dreamed of finding as a merchant. She was already hoping it would help her avenues of friendship, so what would a little extra hope hurt? It would harm absolutely nothing as far as Tressa was concerned, so she was going to keep her spirits high and pray for the best.

It didn't take long for this amazing moment to give way to something even more incredible. A space had been carved from the sands not far from the water, and a few plants sprouted from the top of the hillside that Tressa already knew so well. The shrine was structured the same way as the past ones had been, and the sands seemed to part perfectly so that the entrance was visible. Ophilia held up the Lanthorn as the earth shifted, and that was all it took for the rock to slide apart like a pair of doors. This shrine was much easier to spot than the others had been, though Tressa supposed that could be explained by the fact that she knew what to look for this time. All of them had gotten used to looking for shrines by this point, at last to some degree, so it was only natural that they would find it with the help of the Ember and the map Barham had passed along.

Ophilia was the first one to walk into the shrine with Tressa and Primrose hot on her heels. Even if Ophilia hadn't shown any signs of being sick since they left Bolderfall behind, Tressa was still worried, and she could tell that Primrose was too. They stayed close to Ophilia as the others filed in behind them. The rocks at the entrance to the shrine slid shut, and from there, the inside of the space came to life. 

Tressa was already reaching for her spear as the torches lining the inside of the shrine sparked to life. This time, the flames were a gentle pink color, and that immediately set it apart from the past shrines in Tressa's mind. She wasn't sure which of the gods was going to be waiting for them at the end of this path, but she could already tell that this was a fight she wasn't going to get.

Tressa was more than happy to let herself get distracted by the rest of the shrine, truth be told. She still felt oddly helpless in the face of Therion's issues, and even though everyone else was probably right in saying that they just needed to give him some space, that didn't change the fact that she wanted to do something a bit more active. The shrine would most certainly offer her the distraction she needed, and on top of that, it would check something else off their list of things to do. Maybe they would even be able to get their hands on more information as to the strange destiny that Aelfric and Alephan had alluded to in the past. That was an even more appealing thought than the distraction itself, and Tressa hadn't even thought that possible.

She was so eager to be able to do something that put her mind to uses aside from worrying that Tressa found herself at the front of the group thanks to her excitement. Ophilia was more than happy to let her pass by as they walked through the familiar path that led to the pedestal at the end. Tressa stood in front of the podium as the others filed in behind her, and something in her chest immediately began to leap.

The symbol that was carved into the stone this time around resembled a leaf. Legend had it that the currency of Orsterra had origins that went all the way back to the time of the gods, and Tressa could only assume that was the truth after catching a glimpse of the carving. Bifelgan was the god most commonly associated with fortune, and Tressa could only assume that they would be meeting with the goddess of the winds in the encounter to come.

Tressa reached out and touched at the carving a moment later, and soon afterwards, she was struck with the sudden sensation of light and being removed from her body that she had been met with in the previous two shrines. Tressa's vision was temporarily stolen from her, and when it returned, she was left in the plane of the gods caught somewhere between her mind and reality. Tressa glanced around for any signs of the one who had summoned them, and eventually, her gaze caught the outline of a woman standing not far from the group.

Her hair was a light brown color and fell across her back in gentle curls like the waves of the Coastlands. A shell clip kept her tresses out of her face, though a mask made of leaves and branches still covered her face regardless. She wore a green shirt that faded out to white at the edges, matching it with a pair of black trousers and lace-up boots. She was holding a spear of impressive steel with a coil of pink the same color as the flames lighting the area wrapped around the hilt. The edge of the spear was a stark green color to match the leaves that covered her face. The woman's skin was fair, and her smile only seemed to accentuate the splattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. 

"Bifelgan..." Tressa murmured, knowing who this was without any need for elaboration. She was left awestruck for a long moment, unable to snap herself out of her trance no matter how hard she tried. Then again, Tressa supposed that she wasn't putting that much effort into it. A mere month and a half ago, Tressa would have never imagined that she would be met with the goddess Bifelgan, instead assuming that her prayers for fortune would spiral up to the heavens where the goddess was waiting. So much had changed since then though, and she couldn't help staring as she waited for something more to happen.

Bifelgan tilted her head to the side ever so slightly, and Tressa could sense the playfulness behind her growing grin. "Thou hast come a long way," Bifelgan began, taking a step closer to the travelers.

"You already know what we've been doing before this point, right?" Ophilia asked, clipping the Lanthorn around her belt once again. She already knew the answer, but she still posed the question, seeming to sense that it was the best way to start off their conversation.

Bifelgan nodded as her grip on her spear grew a bit tighter. "Thou defeated Aelfric and Alephan before reaching me," she replied simply. "I believe that means thou knoweth what must come next."

Tressa nodded, finally pulling herself away from her trance. She was still somewhat nervous, truth be told, though she supposed anybody would be concerned about the idea of fighting a god. Even if they had already managed to win these battles twice, Tressa found her heart pounding in her chest. The gods that they had fought up to that point were important to Orsterra's history, yes, but Bifelgan was the one that all merchants prayed to when they hoped for the winds of fortune and change to blow in their favor. After all, Bifelgan's powers of fortune and the blessings found therein were known across all of Orsterra, and Tressa knew no merchant worth their salt would ever dare to forget it.

The other members of the group were quick to follow Tressa's example in preparing for the battle at hand. They all reached for their weapons, ready to lash out the second they were given reason to do so. Ophilia and Cyrus were clutching tightly to the weapons that they had been given by Aelfric and Alephan, and Tressa could tell that Bifelgan was watching them in particular to see what they would do with the divine weapons. After a few seconds of watching Ophilia and Cyrus, Bifelgan's gaze fell to Tressa, who was standing at the front of the party. Tressa couldn't see Bifelgan's eyes because of the mask the goddess was wearing, but she could still feel the critical nature of Bifelgan's gaze. She could tell that the goddess was watching her in particular, and Tressa could only hope it was for a good reason rather than a bad one.

She never had the chance to guess on the matter though, as Bifelgan came running toward her as soon as the other members of the party were ready for the battle at hand. Bifelgan slashed her spear through the air in a grand arc that Tressa almost wasn't able to counter, though she was able to throw up her own lance at the last possible second to keep Bifelgan from hitting her in the shoulder. The goddess pushed against Tressa's own spear with everything she had, seemingly desperate to push Tressa to the ground with her overwhelming force. Tressa gritted her teeth as she did her best to stay upright, knowing that if she allowed herself to give in, it would end poorly for all of them.

It was by some stroke of a miracle that Tressa was able to fend off Bifelgan, though she knew that it wasn't even entirely thanks to her. Instead, it was because Bifelgan had to jump out of the way to avoid twin dagger slashes from Primrose and Therion. Unfortunately, when she jumped backwards, she wound up right in the line of fire of one of H'aanit's arrows. Bifelgan was barely able to move out of the way, though her steps were uncertain and seemingly unstable. She hadn't expected the group to work together so perfectly, and she was already paying the price for it.

Bifelgan was only able to keep her composure for a short while before Olberic came charging into view, his sword gleaming in the pink light of the area. He slashed at her with all the force he could muster, and while Bifelgan was able to block his first attack, she wasn't ready for him to strike at her stomach with his foot. She stumbled away from him, throwing up one hand as her fingers began to glow with the promise of magic. Green wind slashed at Olberic's body freely from there, lashing out with everything Bifelgan had.

Olberic wasn't able to brave the tempest, forced backwards just long enough for Bifelgan to get a grip on herself once again. She pulled her energy together before lashing out with yet another strike, and this time, the wind aimed itself at everyone in the area. Tressa threw up her arms to try and defend herself, and Alfyn did much the same from close to her. Unfortunately for him though, that left Alfyn with a weak spot along the side of his torso, and Bifelgan was more than happy to take advantage of it by rushing forward and striking at him with her spear. Rather than hitting him with the tip of it though, she used the side of the weapon's hilt like a bat, slamming into Alfyn's side and sending him sprawling until his momentum finally gave out and he was left still on the ground.

"Good to know that fighting gods never gets any easier," Therion muttered under his breath. That was the first time Tressa had heard him talk since they left Noblecourt, though she could barely bring herself to be relieved given the circumstances. Instead, she pulled back toward Therion, preparing to strike with every ounce of magic she had. Bifelgan had the advantage of speed on her side, and as far as Tressa could tell, the goddess was fairly well-rounded when it came to her combat skills. Alephan and Aelfric had leaned towards magic in combat, but Bifelgan could do anything she pleased as long as she was able to use her speed along the way. She was avoidant too, and Tressa could already tell that was going to be a problem if they weren't careful.

Tressa watched as Bifelgan once again retreated and prepared to use her spear to strike at Ophilia. Olberic was there in the blink of an eye with his sword primed for a counterattack, though Tressa could tell that he was at a disadvantage thanks to the sheer reach of the massive spear. Bifelgan wasn't the tallest individual around, but the range of her lance more than made up for her lack of verticality, giving her more range with her physical attacks than Alephan or Aelfric could have ever dreamed of. Sure enough, it didn't take her long to push Olberic away, and both him and Ophilia were forced to retreat to make sure they weren't hit with a haphazard attack that would have no doubt sent them sprawling the same way Alfyn had flown through the area a few moments prior.

Cyrus was quick to follow up on the moment where Bifelgan wasn't completely rooted to the ground when she jumped away from Olberic or Ophilia. Bifelgan may have used her range as one of her core advantages, but Cyrus was more than capable of doing the same, and he used the Tome of Tundras to create a streak of ice magic across the ground that formed icicles through the arena. The ice wound up clinging to Bifelgan's feet just before she could hit the ground, leaving her in a precarious position where she had no way of finding her balance. Bifelgan was left scrambling to try and keep herself somewhat upright with her feet just barely off the ground, and she wound up turning her spear around and rooting it into the ground to make sure she didn't fall over.

Tressa was moving before she could even put a finger on what she was trying to do, shoving one arm through the air. Electricity crackled across the edges of her body before a blast of lightning flew towards Bifelgan. She was hit square in the chest, shattering the ice as she was pulled away from her unstable perch on Cyrus' icicles. She created a small amount of wind magic as she tumbled through the air, somehow managing to land on her feet, though she was lacking in balance and seemingly on the verge of tipping over precariously once again. She turned her spear around as she got a grip on herself once again, no longer needing the tip of the weapon to keep her from completely collapsing.

Tressa smiled to herself at the sight of Bifelgan's clumsy recovery. It was a small victory, but she was willing to take it. After all, this was just the beginning, and she wasn't going to yield now or ever no matter what her goddess did next.

What better way was there to describe the spirit of a merchant?

Chapter Text

Bifelgan had barely managed to get a grip on her sense of balance by the time that Alfyn charged in her direction. She was still somewhat disoriented by the team attack Cyrus and Tressa had carried out, and that left her rooted to the spot for long enough for Alfyn to slam straight into her. He didn't have as large of a frame as Olberic or H'aanit, but it was more than enough to knock Bifelgan off balance. She slid backwards, digging the bottom of her spear into the ground to try and keep herself upright. It halfway worked, and she was able to stay on her feet even though she seemed so clearly tempted to completely crumble. Still, she was rather shaken up, and the best she could do when Alfyn struck at her with his axe a moment later was raise her spear to block the strike. Alfyn's weapon bounced off the shaft of the lance, and he took a few steps backwards with a frown.

Luckily for Alfyn, the assault on Bifelgan didn't end there. Therion and Primrose had coordinated a team attack of their own, sneaking up behind the goddess and striking at her with their daggers. Because she was so caught off guard, Bifelgan could do nothing but let her eyes go wide as she was forced backwards through the air. She flailed wildly for a moment before getting a grip on herself midair, manipulating the wind around her to cushion her fall. She rolled and landed in a crouched position with her spear pressed flat against the ground in front of her. Bifelgan's hair had been left to fly freely around her, unhindered by her sudden motions of abrupt uncertainty. She breathed heavily, but she wasn't given much of a chance to rest.

Therion pointed his dagger in Bifelgan's direction, and fire started up from the ground around her. Bifelgan rolled out of the way to the best of her ability, but she still wasn't fast enough to get away from the blast before it aimed itself straight at her chest and sent her sprawling. Primrose was quick to balance her out with an attack of dark magic that appeared behind Bifelgan. Before the merchant goddess was able to recover her sense of balance as she had proven herself more than capable of doing, her attempts were disrupted by the simultaneous attacks from two directions, pushing Bifelgan against the ground. She had been holding her spear tightly to make sure it didn't somehow escape her, but she was unable to keep a tight enough grasp of it when she hit the ground.

The lance slid forward across the rock below, and Tressa was more than happy to pick it up. She examined the weapon carefully, immediately feeling a surge of power rush through her body. She was simply assuming that it held extra strength, but Tressa firmly believed that it was the next of the godly weapons the group was set to collect. Something about the lance felt otherworldly and powerful, and she could already tell that this was a moment she wasn't going to forget any time soon.

Bifelgan hadn't given up quite yet, and she pushed herself off the ground with her wind magic, landing on her feet a moment later. She raised her fists in preparation to fight up close if she had to. Olberic went rushing at her, his sword primed for a strike. Bifelgan ducked low before she could get hit, but Olberic was quick to follow up on that. He allowed the momentum from his swing to carry him into a kick that took Bifelgan's legs out from beneath her. She let out a yelp of surprise as she was pushed to the ground once again. Olberic pointed his sword at her throat, but he wasn't kept there for long.

Even though her back was pressed against the stones, Bifelgan wasn't giving up. She sent out a quick blast of wind magic that pushed Olberic away from her. He raised his sword to block the strike, and while he was able to remain on his feet, he was far enough away from Bifelgan that she was able to roll to her feet and recover in full preparation for the next attack that came her direction. She was speedy and slippery, and she was making it more than clear to the group that she was going to be able to find herself out of any situation they put her in. 

Tressa looked down at the spear that she had managed to claim from Bifelgan. They had to find a way to pin her down and put her in a position that would leave her unable to keep fighting. Granted, Tressa had no idea how she was supposed to accomplish this, and she frowned as her mind started to spin with ideas. Bifelgan was fast and knew how to take advantage of her momentum and wind magic. Even without her weapon, she was easily able to take to combat. How were they supposed to push back against that?

They would simply have to take away her ability to cast magic.

Tressa turned over her shoulder to where Ophilia and Cyrus were standing together. "Ophilia, hit her!" she cried out, not knowing where she was going with this. She knew that they had to find a way to get Bifelgan off balance if they were going to keep her from casting spells, and the best way to do that was to hit her with something that she wasn't going to be able to avoid. Ophilia's casting was pinpoint accurate, and Tressa knew that was something she was always going to be able to count on.

Because of how far away she was from Bifelgan, Ophilia was easily able to pick up on the fact that Tressa wanted her to use her magic to pin Bifelgan down. She raised the Illumination Staff, and light immediately sparked to life around her before slamming into the ground just in front of Bifelgan. Even if she wasn't directly hit, that was more than enough to send Bifelgan backwards, catching her in an awkward position that she wasn't able to worm her way out of.

Tressa slammed one foot against the ground as she pulled one arm up above her head while holding tightly to the spear with the other hand. Ice immediately began to grow up from the ground near Bifelgan's feet, grabbing at her wrists as she flailed for purchase against the sudden shift of her momentum and positioning. Bifelgan let out a strangled cry of surprise as her wrist was caught by Tressa's spell.

Cyrus realized what Tressa was trying to do and cast a spell of his own, infusing it with extra power from the Tome of Tundras to make sure that Bifelgan wouldn't be able to escape. He managed to get her other arm before pinning her ankles to the ground. It was an awkward position to be in, and no matter how much Bifelgan fought back against her confines, she couldn't seem to make an escape, instead being left pinned in place by the ice that Tressa and Cyrus had summoned.

Tressa felt like she had just found a million leaves on the ground and grinned as she pointed the spear at Bifelgan's throat. The merchant stopped struggling, and Tressa could feel the goddess' gaze on her despite the mask that obscured her eyes from view. "Checkmate," Tressa grinned.

Bifelgan looked up at her for a long moment before letting out a small laugh as Tressa pulled away. "Thou hast more power than I anticipated," she said simply, her good-natured demeanor returning immediately. Even when she was pinned down, she seemed to have full control of the situation and could do nothing but grin at the travelers that had managed to defeat her.

Bifelgan used her wind magic to cut at the ice keeping her in place, and she landed on her feet after a bit more adjusting. She smiled as she looked out at the travelers before her before her gaze fell on Tressa. "Thou hast done more than enough to earnen my power," she announced. Her attention shifted to the spear Tressa was holding. "The lance in your fingers is known as the Tempest Spear. I haven no doubt that thou will use its strength well."

"Thank you, Bifelgan," Tressa smiled as she glanced down at the weapon, still feeling power rush through her body. She hadn't ever expected to find herself with something as strong as this, and she could already tell that it was going to be helpful.

While Tressa was lost in thought because of the spear though, Cyrus stepped forward, a small frown on his face. "If it's alright, I have a question to ask you," he began. Bifelgan tilted her head to the side, a clear cue for him to continue. He did so a moment later. "We have heard from Aelfric and Alephan that something dark is on the horizon for all of Orsterra. We seem to be meant to do something to stop this evil force, but I'm afraid we don't know much about what is happening."

Bifelgan was quiet for a long moment before sighing. "The truths that are most important can be the most difficult to face," she told him simply. "Proceed with caution. I knowen little about what is taking place elsewhere on Orsterra, but... You must be careful."

Cyrus and Ophilia shared a glance before the latter nodded. "Alright," she murmured, though it was clear that there was still more that she wanted to ask Bifelgan. All of them had more they were desperate to know, but they remained silent for the time being regardless.

"Thou hast accomplished what was intended though," Bifelgan went on. "Our meeting here must draw to a close soon... I thanke thee for the rush of exhilaration that came with combat. Much time has passed since I was given that chance last... Until we meet once more."

Light exploded through the area once again, and Tressa was left with the jarring sensation of her body shifting location even though the Warp Staff was not being used. When she opened her eyes once again (though she wasn't entirely sure when she had closed them in the first place), Tressa found that she was back in the shrine once again, her hand braced against the carving of the leaf that sprouted from the stone pedestal. She let out a small sigh before turning to face the rest of the group.

On the way though, Tressa almost hit herself in the face with the lengthy shaft of the Tempest Spear. She let out a yelp and managed to pull her head back just in time to make sure she didn't accidentally bruise her cheek. Tressa sighed in relief, her posture slumping along the way. "I guess I should be a bit more careful of that from now on, huh?" she murmured with a shake of her head. She looked down and realized that her old lance was sitting on the ground at her feet, having been swapped out with the Tempest Spear likely when Bifelgan surrendered it to the travelers. Tressa crouched over and picked it up before tossing it in Olberic's direction. "You can keep this one for now. I doubt I'm going to need it for quite a while."

Olberic caught the spear and nodded before tucking it away with the rest of his supplies. Tressa, meanwhile, smiled to the other members of the group. "That went pretty well for us, wouldn't you say?" she questioned.

"Bifelgan didn't tell us what gift she was offering to us with the blessing of her power," Ophilia frowned. "I suppose everyone got a bit distracted by the battle... I feel stronger now, but I don't know how to describe it." She held up one hand, and wind magic immediately sparked to life between her fingers. Ophilia's eyes went wide, and she dropped her hand back to her side. "Well... I guess that explains part of it."

"Bifelgan is a goddess who looks over fortune," Tressa began. "All merchants pray to her when they want to be blessed with something positive during their sales periods. I think it's safe to say that whatever gift she offered us has something to do with that. You know, on top of helping all of us to get better with her element."

Olberic followed Ophilia's lead and tried to summon a small spell of wind. When it worked, he nodded. "Bifelgan has power over the element of wind," he concluded firmly. "The rest of us should be able to use that power from here on out without much issue."

"I think we should try and take advantage of the power Aelfric and Alephan have given us too," Alfyn suggested. "The powers of second chance, unparalleled focus, and good fortune... I don't know what any of that is supposed to mean, but I guess we're not going to find any answers unless we actually try to do a bit of research on our own, huh?"

"I'm hoping we won't need to use any of those skills while we're in Goldshore, but I suppose it's good to have at least something like that at our disposal," Primrose commented with a small shrug. "For now, we should get out of here. The sooner we can get to Goldshore, the better off we're going to be. That way, we'll be able to recover all of our energy and hopefully set off for Stonegard in the morning."

H'aanit nodded her agreement as she addressed Linde and Hägen where they were standing on either side of her. "I agree," she murmured. "Hägen's anxieties continue to runnen high." Hägen leaned against her body just as proof of what she was saying, and H'aanit let one hand come down to scratch at the back of his ears with a small smile as his tail flicked back and forth a few times.

"Let's go and see what we can do in Goldshore then!" Tressa exclaimed, punching her free arm into the air. "I've heard that this is a great city when it comes to sales and trade too. It's got a great marketplace, and that would be a lovely place for us to stock up on supplies."

"The weapons of the gods have certainly offered a power boost to Ophilia, Cyrus, and Tressa, but I believe the rest of us are more than overdue for weapon upgrades," Olberic frowned as he examined the weapons in his bag of supplies. "The farther we get from the center of the continent, the stronger our enemies get. We never know when a random encounter from one of our foes could wind up causing significant damage to us. It would be best if we decided to upgrade our equipment as long as we're somewhere that has good wares."

"We could have done that back in Noblecourt if we had been thinking ahead," Alfyn frowned. "I guess we all got a bit distracted by everything else that was happening at the time though, huh?"

Tressa shook her head. "Noblecourt didn't have much in the way of weapons for sale... I would have expected there to be a couple more good weapons, but I didn't see anything that struck me as being particularly strong while we were there," she frowned. "It doesn't matter now though. I agree that we should try to gather more supplies while we're in Goldshore. I wonder what sort of weapons we're going to find when we get there... Though I guess nothing is going to impress me as much as the Tempest Spear here."

"We'll figure it out," Therion said simply, turning on his heel to walk out of the shrine. He seemed a bit less tense than he had been when they were in Noblecourt and Bolderfall that morning, though Tressa supposed it was probably because of the battle. Being able to slink around in the shadows gave Therion the perfect chance to return to his element, and that was all he needed to start coming back around. It wasn't going to be that easy for him to start admitting what was going on inside his head to the rest of the group, but at least it was a step in the right direction, and Tressa was more than willing to accept it.

Tressa sighed to herself as she turned around as well, walking away from the shrine and back to the entrance of the shrine. She waited for the doors to slide open before she stepped outside, holding up one hand on pure instinct to block her face from a small pocket of sand that had been picked up on the breeze and was trying to launch itself at her face. Tressa looked out of the way just in time to make sure she didn't get hit, and she let out a small sigh of relief. She didn't think she was grateful enough for the fact that Rippletide's winds never got this strong so she wasn't smacked in the face with sand on the regular.

Cyrus, on the other hand, seemed completely unbothered by the sand, and when Tressa looked over at him, she realized that it was because he was manipulating the wind with one hand. It was a subtle gesture, but it was more than enough to catch her attention, and she dashed to his side with a grin on her face. "Teach me how to do that," she instructed, unable to hold back her excitement. She was bound to get a strong grasp of it soon enough thanks to the boost of skill in wind magic that Bifelgan had offered them, and she was looking forward to it. That would probably prove helpful when they had to start traveling through the Sunlands again in the near future too. After all, Therion had to go to Wellspring, and that meant the rest of them were going to be dragged along for the ride too. She might as well develop her skills before it got too serious.

Cyrus nodded with a small chuckle and a smile of his own. It didn't take long for him to teach Tressa how to manipulate the wind around her subtly, doing just enough to make a barrier where she was untouched by the element. It was impressive how quickly Cyrus had been able to figure that out given that he hadn't known any wind magic before meeting Tressa and studying the way she carried herself in battle. Still, Tressa wasn't complaining; it meant she wasn't at risk of getting hit with sand, and she was more than happy to take advantage of that.

The group continued their travels to Goldshore from then, and luckily, it didn't take long before the outline of the city appeared on the horizon. Tressa watched as the town got close, and she could see the large buildings from the richer quarter of town that lined the sky around the cathedral where the third leg of the Kindling was set to be held. She grinned once the entrance had come into view, and she walked through the boundaries of the town, letting her manipulation of the elements fall away.

Goldshore was, all things considered, rather impressive. Tressa hadn't ever been to cities larger than Rippletide before leaving home with the other members of the group, and Goldshore was certainly one city she was never going to forget between its size and its splendor. Unlike Noblecourt, which was very overt about the fact that it was impressive in ways most people would never be able to comprehend in full, Goldshore's elegance was simple and casual, sliding into conversations without even meaning to seem grand. A small beach could be seen off to the side of the town's entrance, and the buildings that lined the front of the city were all homey and cozy in a way that made Tressa sure they were going to have a good time here. Plus, Primrose and Therion had no reason to be stressed, so they were already at an advantage compared to how things had been before.

Tressa took in a deep breath of the salty yet cool air rushing in from the nearby beach, and she let out a heavy sigh as she grinned brightly to the rest of the group. "I guess it's time for us to start looking around to see what we can find around here, huh?" she asked.

Olberic nodded. "It would be best if we split up to explore and see what we're able to find," he suggested. "We should start off by inquiring about lodgings for the night so that we can have a place to set all of our things. Carrying them around would hardly be resting the way we should be tonight."

"I'll do what I can to ask and see if there would be a way to reduce the price of the inn rooms," Cyrus told him. "I would like to do a bit more studying regarding the map as well as long as we're taking a break from our travels. I have no doubt it will help us as we move towards Stonegard within the next few days."

"Maybe we could split up in pairs," Tressa suggested to the group. "That way, we'd all be able to see if we can find something. Plus, we wouldn't have to wander around town alone."

"That's not going to work," Primrose sighed with a shake of her head. "It seems Therion's already gotten a bit excited about being in a city again. He's probably off trying to see what he can snag off people who aren't paying enough attention."

Tressa frowned and glanced around the area before realizing that Primrose was right; Therion was nowhere to be seen. She let out a hefty sigh and shook her head. "Never mind then," she murmured. She silently begged the universe to give her a chance to try and reach out to Therion, but she knew it probably wasn't going to be that easy. Therion was a difficult person to speak to under the best of circumstances, and it wasn't as if she was in the best position to press him as things currently stood. It was frustrating, but it wasn't all that surprising given just how closed off he had been when they first met.

"Then let's just look around and see what we can find for now," Alfyn said simply, recovering without missing a beat. "I'm sure there's tons of fun stuff that we can do while we're here. We might as well try to enjoy our time here before we have to leave for Stonegard tomorrow morning, right? Let's do what we can to make the most of it. I think we've earned that after all the action of the last few weeks."

"You've got a deal," Tressa nodded as she turned to look at the rest of the group. "Let's see what we can find around here. We might as well enjoy this place as long as we're here."

Nods of agreement rose up from the group, and Tressa took this as her chance to dash off and try to barter for a couple better weapons for the other members of the group. She knew that having a few spare weapons wouldn't hurt even for her, Cyrus, and Ophilia. They may have had the weapons of the gods on their sides, but Tressa liked to use more than a simple lance in combat, and her old bow was starting to show signs of excessive use. As long as she was there, she might as well try to make the most of it.

The other members of the group were quick to disperse from there, and Tressa found herself alone with Ophilia as she marched firmly to the back half of town. Ophilia's hand was firmly braced against the outside of the Lanthorn, and as far as Tressa could tell, Ophilia was curious about something at the back of the town. Chances were that Ophilia was trying to see what she could find out about the church of Goldshore since they were going to be heading there after she finished the first part of the Kindling in Saintsbridge. It wouldn't hurt to get a lay of the land as long as the group was going to be coming back eventually, right?

Tressa looked up to Ophilia with a small smile on her face and concern in her eyes. "Are you feeling better?" she asked. "You haven't seemed sick since we left Bolderfall, but it would be bad if you keeled over out of the blue again."

Ophilia nodded. "I'm feeling much better," she replied. "I don't know why, but it seemed like my bout of sickness was limited just to Bolderfall... I don't understand what could have happened. The woman we saw just... I don't know... It was like every part of my body was repulsed by her."

"I don't know why that could be, but I can say that something about her seemed off to me too," Tressa agreed. "Maybe I'm jumping to conclusions, but the way she was looking at Bolderfall... It was kind of creepy. I get the feeling that she was trying to find something, but it's not like we have a way of knowing what exactly she was looking for."

"Olberic was certainly quick to step in when he noticed something was wrong though," Ophilia commented. "I don't think I've seen him that fired up before or since then... Granted, it's only been a few hours, so I doubt something like that would repeat again in such a short period of time."

Tressa nodded. "You're probably right, but it's nice to know that he's looking out for all of us," she said. "In a way, the eight of us kind of act like a family. I mean, you kind of have to squint to see it, but... The way Olberic jumped in to defend you kind of reminds me of the way my dad is with me and my mom. He would do anything to make sure that we're alright, and I don't think I could ever thank him enough for it. He's a great guy."

"Olberic isn't exactly old enough to be anybody's father here," Ophilia pointed out with a small laugh. "But I do know what you're talking about. Primrose's concern for us is somewhat maternal as well... I know it's a strange thing to think about, but I can see it."

"Maybe that's what we are now," Tressa commented as she put her hands on her hips. "For all we know, wandering around the continent together has given us the perfect chance to think of one another as family. You might as well try to get to know people if you're supposed to be saving the world with them, after all."

Ophilia hummed at that, and Tressa could tell there was something else on her mind. Tressa's smile slipped away by a fraction. "What's wrong?" she asked.

Ophilia shook her head. "Nothing is wrong. I guess I'm just... I've been thinking a lot about what the gods we've run into have implied," she responded simply. "I never thought I would be involved with something that could potentially involve saving the world, but I feel like we still don't understand what's going on here. Aelfric said that something was wrong and that we were going to need each other if we wanted to come out on top. That's why we wound up going to Bolderfall and S'warkii instead of Saintsbridge; she needed all of us to be together."

"Alephan and Bifelgan didn't have much else to say about it though," Tressa remarked. "I mean, it would have been pretty helpful if they could share at least something with us, but they didn't have anything to tell us about it... How are we supposed to help people if we don't even know what we're supposed to be protecting them from in the first place? It doesn't make any sense."

"That's what I'm thinking," Ophilia sighed. "There has to be something out there that could tell us what's going on, but... We don't have any ideas about what it could possibly be."

"Unless it's that weird woman from Bolderfall," Tressa snorted. "I mean, she's the closest thing we've seen to suspicious. She certainly made you react negatively, and you've got the closest connection to the gods out of all of us because you're the Flamebearer. I feel like that's kind of a given."

Ophilia shook her head once again. "I don't think it's right to jump to conclusions like that... For now, we should just keep it in mind as a potential outcome for all of this. For all we know, we might never see that woman again. She certainly didn't seem like the type to stay in one place for any longer than she has to. After all, she left Bolderfall as soon as Olberic was done talking to her."

Tressa shrugged. "I guess we'll never know... Or at least we won't know for a while," she murmured. She wanted to believe that the woman was responsible even if it was only so she would have someone to point a finger at when it came to Ophilia's bout of sickness from the morning. The lack of explanations behind everything they had seen lately was starting to drive her up a wall.

But for the time being, the best thing she could do was focus on buying weapons for the rest of the group. She and Ophilia had arrived at the merchant district of Goldshore, and that meant it was time for them to start buying weapons. Tressa could already tell that she was going to enjoy this even if everything else was complicated and impossible to understand.

"Well," Tressa started as she cracked her knuckles and stretched her arms out in front of her, "let's get started."

Chapter Text

Once the group had dispersed, Alfyn took a small breath as he looked around the entrance to Goldshore. His gaze eventually found the ocean nearby, and a smile appeared on his face. "Ah... Nothing quite like a town by the sea!" he exclaimed. Alfyn inhaled the scent of the crashing waves, though he was cut off by a series of coughs that showed just how much he disagreed with the smell. "Even if the air is a bit briny for my liking."

He shook it off to the best of his ability, deciding that he wanted to go and dip his toes into the water for a few minutes. It would be a nice way to decompress after all the traveling they had done that day, and given that they had to fight against Bifelgan along the way, the break would certainly be welcome. Given the fact that there were stone steps leading down to the water, Alfyn could only assume that it was a popular spot for locals to relax as well, and he took that as his cue to start walking to the stairs that would take him to his paradise of relaxation.

"Did you hear? Old Zeke's been stricken too. That's ten in just a week!"

The sound of a young man's voice from nearby was enough to make Alfyn stop, and he turned to see that a trio of men were standing together and talking. All three of them wore expressions of concern, and Alfyn could only imagine that whatever they were talking about was solemn as could be. He paused on the spot and did what he could to pick up on the traces of their conversation. After all, it sounded as if they were in need of an apothecary, and who would be a better man for the job than Alfyn himself?

The oldest man of the three shook his head as he looked toward the ground. "The fever's spreading fast. Whatever are we to do?" he murmured. 

The third man, who appeared to be about Cyrus' age, snapped his fingers together in recognition before speaking. "Now that you mention it, I hear there's a traveling apothecary in town," he commented. 

Alfyn's eyes went wide at that, and he wondered how they had known that he was there. After all, he hadn't been given the chance to tell anyone about his occupation since arriving. Perhaps it was his satchel that had given him away. Maybe one of the others had mentioned it to the other occupants of the town and news had spread that way. Who was to say? Either way, it seemed as if word had spread fast, and that only made him want to listen in on the conversation at hand more.

"They say she whipped up a tonic that cured one boy's fever overnight!" the third man continued, still completely unaware as to what Alfyn was trying to do a few yards away.

Alfyn's eyes went wide at his words. "'She'...?" he whispered. A smile spread across his face at the realization that the traveling apothecary in question had to be someone else. Either way, it was fine with him. "So I've got a colleague in town. Wonder if she'd be interested in talkin' shop."

Before Alfyn could hear much else from the conversation taking place nearby, a young girl came dashing up the stairs that Alfyn had set his sights on before he decided to listen in on the chat the three men were having. Her hair was a deep auburn color, shining with tints of red in the midday sun. Her dress was a splendid red color at the back and a delicate cream at the front with a few traces of sand along the edges. In other words, she had been playing at the beach before deciding to head out and see the rest of the town.

Unfortunately for her, she wasn't able to get very far. She only made it a few feet away from the steps before she tripped over a snag in the road and was sent sprawling forward. "Ow!" she cried as she hit the ground, her voice squeaking and cracking on the way down. She pushed herself back so she was sitting slowly and carefully before looking down at her knee which now sported a notable red gash across the surface. "Ow... It hurts..." she murmured, her voice wavering like she was on the verge of tears.

Alfyn took that as his cue to approach her, and he walked in her direction quickly yet carefully so she knew that he wasn't here to hurt her. "Are you okay?" he asked gently. Along the way to crouching at her side, he noticed that something had fallen on the cobblestones at his feet. "Here, you dropped something."

Alfyn reached out for the item in question, realizing along the way that it was a seashell. He handed it to the girl gingerly, and she accepted it with a shaky hand before sliding it into her satchel. "Th-Thanks..." she said between her tears, sniffling and letting out a small cry before her eyes fell back to her knee where the skid mark was just as prevalent as ever. 

"Looks like you scraped up your knee. Mind if I have a look?" Alfyn questioned. He had more than his fair share of experience with working with younger children thanks to his time in Clearbrook. It had taken a while for Nina to become receptive to his help because of her youthful nature. She always wanted to tough it out when she got hurt and continue to face the world bravely, much to her brother's chagrin. Luckily for them both, Alfyn had been more than capable of stepping in, and it seemed that those skills were slated to serve him well long after his departure from Clearbrook.

The girl nodded, and Alfyn examined her leg carefully, a small frown on his face. "Ouch, I bet that smarts. I know the feeling--I'm always tripping over my own two feet," he told her, trying to keep his tone as casual and conversational as possible to keep her calm. He smiled to her a moment later, and she looked at him through tear-filled eyes once again. "But every time you pick yourself back up, you'll find yourself that much tougher for it."

Alfyn reached into his satchel and pulled out a small bottle with a balm in it. He removed the lid and tapped some of the ointment out onto his fingers before rubbing at the girl's knee. She winced with the expectation of pain when his fingers got close, but she found herself relaxing when she realized that there was no pain to be found at all. Instead, the balm was already doing its job, covering the initial injury and making sure that no blood would manage to seep through. It was a simple yet effective way to keep the wound from getting infected, and it worked like a dream the same way it always had.

Alfyn smiled as he placed the cap back on the bottle and put it in his bag. "That'll do her. That's one of my best healing balms," he explained to the young girl when he realized she was watching him with pure awe and curiosity in her eyes. 

"Thanks, stranger. I'm Ellen," the young girl said, pushing herself to her feet to test her weight on her injured knee. She seemed surprised when it didn't hurt, and her previously teary expression shifted to complete surprise and excitement.

"I'm Alfyn," the apothecary replied with a grin of his own. "That almost rhymes, eh?" 

Ellen laughed at that. "Neat!" she chirped before her eyes fell to the bag that had healed her injury so quickly. Her eyes went wide with endless wonder as she looked up to him again. "Are you a medicine man?"

"You might say that. I'm what they call an apothecary," Alfyn explained.

Ellen's face immediately lit up. "Wow! I've never met one of you before! It's nice to meet you, Mister Pock-a-therry!" she exclaimed, every part of her so filled with childhood wonder that it melted Alfyn's heart.

Alfyn smiled and chuckled. "Just Alfyn'll do."

Ellen smiled for a moment before her expression started to melt away to something much darker. She took a small step closer before whispering (albeit rather poorly) in Alfyn's direction. "Hey, Alfyn? Can I ask you a favor?"

"Go for it," Alfyn told her with a nod, trying to hide his concern at how quickly her cheery demeanor had evaporated.

"It's my sister, Flynn. She caught a fever, and she's been in bed all week," Ellen began. She looked down sadly, fear starting to gloss over her gaze. "She's always crying. And no matter how much she sleeps, it just gets worse and worse..."

Alfyn put one hand on Ellen's shoulder, and she looked up with tears in her eyes once again. "Say no more. I'll fix her up right as rain!" Alfyn assured her with a beaming grin. "After all, that's what I'm here for!"

"Oh, thank you!" Ellen exclaimed, raising one hand to point to a nearby building. "Our house is right there." She bounded off in the direction of the home, expecting Alfyn to follow.

He nodded his understanding before starting to trail after her. "I'll be right there!" he called after her before looking down to his satchel, trying to reach for what usually helped to break fevers. It wouldn't hurt to be prepared, right?

"Thou art good with children."

Alfyn just about jumped out of his skin at the voice from nearby, and he looked up to see that H'aanit was approaching him from around the corner of Ellen and Flynn's home. Alfyn could only assume that she had already done a quick sweep of the area and decided that there was nothing of note she should hear more about, hence why she had come back to find him.

It took him a moment to recover from his surprise at being spoken to out of the blue that way, and he pressed one hand against his chest as he let out a few heavy breaths to stabilize himself. Alfyn finally managed to sigh as he shot H'aanit a small smile accompanied by a reply. "You think so? Can't say I've ever thought about it much," he admitted. He had spent time with the kids of Clearbrook before, but him learning to interact with them had been more out of a matter of necessity than anything else. He thought about it for a moment before continuing. "Though I've always liked playin' with the young ones back at home."

H'aanit nodded her understanding. "So thou hast experience. That is the best teacher," she remarked as she drew closer to him, Hägen and Linde at her feet. "'Tis a fine gift indeed, to bringen joy to the faces of children."

Alfyn flushed at that, and one hand came up to rub at the base of his neck as he tried to battle his own awkwardness. "Shucks, I don't reckon it's much of a gift. A big smile's all you need. They're infectious, you know."

H'aanit raised an eyebrow in his direction, and Hägen tilted his head to the side accordingly out of curiosity. "I wondere," H'aanit said simply.

"It's true!" Alfyn exclaimed as he plastered a bright grin on his face. "Come on, why don't you give it a go?"

H'aanit simply stared at him for a long moment before she managed to convince herself to try. It was difficult for her given her generally stoic nature, but when she was finally able to offer him a wide grin, Alfyn felt his heart beginning to warm. "Like this...?" H'aanit questioned uncertainly.

"That's how you do it!" Alfyn confirmed. "I'm feelin' better already!" He glanced over to the door that Ellen had gone through to enter her home, and his expression sobered slightly. "See, if the grown-ups aren't smilin', the kids get worried. They'll figure somethin's up."

H'aanit nodded as her smile started to evaporate in favor of her regular solemn expression. "Verily... Thou art a wiser man than it woulde first appearen."

"Thanks, H'aanit," Alfyn grinned, only barely managing to hold back the raging blush that was starting to rise in his cheeks at the compliment. "I guess we should get in there now, huh? Ellen's bound to start worryin' if we take too long."

"Might I join you?"

The sound of Olberic's voice pulled their attention away from the door briefly, and Alfyn turned to see the warrior approaching them with a small handful of herbs in one hand. "Of course!" Alfyn exclaimed with a grin before his eyes fell to the plants Olberic was holding. "What're those?"

"I noticed you were running short on a few materials you use in your concoctions. I figured I might as well grab some while we were here," Olberic replied. "Here you are."

Alfyn accepted the herbs with a grin and saw that, just like Olberic had said, they were the ones that Alfyn was running out of. He hadn't even realized just how few he had, but he supposed it was a testament to Olberic's skills of observation as well as his care for the other members of the group. Either way, it was sweet, and Alfyn tucked the herbs back into his bag before nodding. "Thanks, Olberic."

Olberic simply nodded. "It was no issue at all. For now, you seem to have somewhere to be." He tilted his head in the direction of the nearby house, and Alfyn nodded his confirmation before turning and walking inside, the huntress and warrior hot on his heels. The door was still ajar from where Ellen had dashed into the building, and Alfyn took the handle between his fingers before opening the door all the way and stepping inside with Olberic and H'aanit behind him.

~~~~~

While Ellen was speaking with Alfyn on the street outside, her home was bustling with quiet activity among its three occupants. Flynn was lying on the bed with her eyes half-lidded. Everything about her posture was tense as could be, like she could barely keep a grip on herself through the unfortunate fog of her sickness.

Marlene, Flynn and Ellen's mother, had been pacing the length of the house with a frown on her face ever since her daughter came down with the malady. Despite her best attempts to stay calm, she couldn't seem to properly soothe her nerves. Even after an apothecary had arrived to help, she was unable to calm herself down.

The apothecary in question was a woman with purple hair tied back into a single ponytail. She crouched beside Flynn's bed and examined the young girl carefully with a small frown on her face. She hadn't moved from that spot since arriving a short while ago, and the silence was starting to grate on Marlene's nerves when combined with her endless concern. The only sound to pierce the air was Flynn's labored breathing, and that only allowed the stress of the home to intensify.

Marlene finally had enough of the tension in the room and looked to the apothecary as she forced herself to stop pacing. "Is there any hope for her, m'lady?" she asked, her voice lined with endless anxiety.

The apothecary rose to her feet before nodding to the older woman. "It's just the fever that's going around. My remedy will have her back on her feet in no time," she assured Marlene with a small but certain smile. She reached into her bag before pulling out the remedy in question and passing it to Marlene. The redheaded woman accepted the medicine with a small yet nervous nod, swallowing back her fears to the best of her ability.

Marlene crouched next to Flynn, propping her daughter up gently with one arm so that she could tip the contents of the bottle into her mouth. Flynn swallowed it carefully, almost afraid of what it was going to mean for her despite the apothecary's insistence that it would help. 

"And down it goes!" Marlene said as she set the bottle on the floor beside her. "Well, Flynn? Did it help?"

Flynn's eyes finally managed to open fully for what felt like the first time in at least a week, and color began to return to her cheeks. "Wow...! I feel better already!" 

Marlene pressed the back of her hand against Flynn's forehead, and she let out a gasp. "Just feel her forehead! The fever's all but gone!" she exclaimed. She got to her feet, tears starting to well up in her eyes from pure relief. "Oh, how can we ever repay you?" Marlene looked down at the floor with muted shame written on her features. "Ever since their father died, I've raised my two girls on my own. I fear I have little in the way of coin..."

The apothecary simply shook her head. "You have my sympathies. Worry not--your kind words are payment enough," she assured Marlene. 

The woman seemed surprised at the apothecary's kindness, and another warm yet relieved smile appeared on her face. "T-Truly? You are too kind, m'lady..."

The apothecary shook her head once again. "Just doing my job. And with that, I should be on my way," she said, turning her attention towards the door. Marlene went to help her out, and the apothecary stopped halfway. "Oh, and of course. Should the symptoms return, don't hesitate to call me."

Marlene nodded and watched as the apothecary left, her eyes falling shut in contemplation. She stood that way for a few moments before the door opened once again to show Ellen bounding inside, Alfyn hot on her heels. "Here I am!" Alfyn exclaimed. Behind him, Olberic and H'aanit stood with their two animal companions just outside the door. 

Alfyn started to walk inside, the rest of his companions following him, as he looked around the area. "Where's my patient? I heard a poor girl was suffering from a terrible fever..."

Ellen pointed to the bed where Flynn was resting. "She's right there, Alfyn!"

Alfyn snapped his fingers together at the sight, already knowing exactly what to do. "Just sit tight. I'll have you feeling better in no time!" he proclaimed firmly. 

Marlene was left watching in confusion as Alfyn and Ellen both approached Flynn's bedside, glancing over to H'aanit and Olberic with shock written all over her features at the strange visitors her oldest daughter had brought home. Linde and Hägen remained close to H'aanit the whole way into the home, staring at the world around them with muted animalistic curiosity. Marlene couldn't find the words to explain the situation, instead simply staring with her jaw agape at the new arrivals.

Alfyn had been examining Flynn for a few moments when a frown appeared on his face. "She looks just fine to me," he murmured under his breath in confusion. 

Marlene finally snapped, and she stamped one foot against the ground as she gestured grandly to the newcomers. "Ellen! What are you thinking, bringing these scruffy-looking strangers into our home?!" she exclaimed, glancing back and forth between where Olberic and H'aanit stood against the wall and where Alfyn was crouching at Flynn's side.

Alfyn rose to his full height slowly, sensing that this was a situation he needed to handle as delicately as possible. "Pardon, madam, but I'm an apothecary. I only meant to--"

Marlene examined him carefully before placing her hands on her hips. "Oh, are you now?" she asked, each word laced with doubt. She closed the distance between herself and Alfyn soon afterwards, and the taller man took a step back with uncertainty at her sudden glare in his direction. He had the advantage in height, but she was still most certainly intimidating enough to give him pause. "My daughter's already been treated by a professional, so I'm afraid we won't be needing your services. Good day, sir."

Alfyn stared down at her for a long moment before looking to Flynn and seeing her slumbering form. He glanced to Ellen next, and the young girl's eyes were filled to the brim with concern. Alfyn nodded his understanding and walked to the door, his companions hot on his heels. He could tell that he wasn't wanted, and it was enough to make his stomach churn. The professional Marlene spoke of must have come and gone while Alfyn was busy speaking to Ellen, H'aanit, and Olberic outside, and he hadn't even noticed. He wished that he could have spared himself the embarrassment, but he felt even worse for Ellen. She had only wanted to help her sister, after all.

It wasn't until after H'aanit shut the door behind them that Alfyn allowed himself to sigh. "Tough crowd," he muttered. "She made it sound like I'm some kind of quacksalver..."

"We know better than that," Olberic assured Alfyn with a hand on the apothecary's shoulder. "You do a fine job with your work, and if she can't see that, then it's her loss."

Alfyn nodded at Olberic's words. "Thanks, Olb," he said half-heartedly, though he still felt awful for how that interaction had ended. He stared down at the ground, wishing there was a way for him to forget about all that had just happened. He had only wanted to help, but it seemed as if that was too much to ask for.

The door to the house opened once again, and Alfyn glanced up to see Ellen walking outside, her expression painted with guilt and shame. "I... I'm sorry, Alfyn. I didn't know there was another pock-a-therry in time."

Alfyn shoved his tempestuous emotions aside and turned to face her, Olberic's hand falling off his shoulder. Alfyn may have been feeling down himself about it, but he couldn't let Ellen know that. After all, once the adults stopped smiling, the kids would begin to notice that something was wrong, and it wasn't worth worrying Ellen over his petty problems. "Don't worry about it. Your sister's feeling better, and that's what matters, right?" he pointed out.

Ellen nodded, a smile spreading across her features. "Yeah! Thanks anyway, Alfyn," she told him.

Alfyn smiled to her as well and gave her a small wave. "Take care, Ellen. And try not to catch cold!"

"You too!" Ellen returned. She waved to him as well before dashing through the door of her home and vanishing from view. 

It wasn't until after she was gone that Alfyn allowed himself to sigh, that smile of his fading. He took a few steps away from the home, not wanting to bother Marlene by daring to exist in her general vicinity, and looked out over the water. "That must have been the apothecary that everyone was buzzing about," he murmured to himself. "The girl's forehead wasn't even warm. Whoever this rival of mine is, she sure knows her stuff. What I wouldn't give to be able to pick her brain..."

"Thou couldst attempten to finden her," H'aanit suggested. "I am sure that she remaineth somewhere in Goldshore. If we beginnen our search, we may finden her soone."

Alfyn nodded at that. "Alright... Yeah," he agreed. "I mean, there's no reason to get set back by something like this. I'm going to try and make the most of it, startin' with findin' that apothecary. Let's get to it!" He pumped one fist in the air before starting to walk towards the back end of town where most of the activity was centered.

Olberic fell into pace with Alfyn once they had started walking, a small smile on his face. "Your skill in brewing salves is most admirable, even if that woman did not see it," he told Alfyn.

The apothecary simply shrugged. "Well, you've got your swordplay to boast of. Me? I've got my medicine," Alfyn replied.

Olberic nodded. "Just so, my friend. Neither fighting, nor curing, is a contest as such, but we all hope to triumph in our own field. And indeed, meeting fellows in the same trade can inspire a man. Make him strive a little higher." He paused before continuing. "At least, so it is among men of the sword."

That was all it took for Alfyn to figure out what Olberic was trying to do, and he had to admit that he appreciated it. Olberic could tell that despite his optimistic words, Alfyn was still a bit upset about being beat to the punch by the other apothecary back at Ellen's house. Not many people were able to see beneath the mask that Alfyn put up when facing the rest of the world, and he had to admit that he was impressed with Olberic's resolve to find the truth.

Still, that didn't mean Alfyn was in the mood for particular emotional vulnerability or saying how much it hurt to be diminished as an irritation by Marlene, so he chose to grin and nudge Olberic in the side. "I guess you've had your run-ins with rivals who you hated losin' to too, huh?"

Olberic frowned at that, and Alfyn couldn't tell if he was upset with him for clamming up on him or if the apothecary had inadvertently poked at a sore spot by accident. "That would be all of them," he began, though he recovered from the light jab quickly. "But unlike swordsmen, the world can never have too many gifted healers."

"My thinkin' exactly," Alfyn nodded. "That's why I need to keep getting better, so I can help as many folks as I can."

"A noble ambition," Olberic said as he focused his attention straight ahead. "And that's why you want to meet with this other apothecary before we leave town."

"You got it," Alfyn confirmed. "I'm sure it'll be a nice way to get better. After all, learnin' more about the trade is the best way to make progress aside from hard practice. It's a good thing to have. After all, you don't want to wish for anybody to get bad so that you can have the practice you need, right?"

Olberic and H'aanit both nodded their agreement, and the huntress spoke as she looked down to Linde where the snow leopard was standing at her side. "Practice is crucial to any creed," she said softly, rubbing one hand across the top of the snow leopard's head. Linde nuzzled against her gently, and H'aanit couldn't hold back the smile that spread across her features at the sight.

Olberic and H'aanit stopped walking soon afterwards, and Alfyn took another step forward before he followed suit. Ahead of them, a large crowd could be seen, and the chatter was enough to make Linde curl against H'aanit as if she was desperate for defense from the noise. Alfyn couldn't help but wince at just how loud the area was. He was more than happy to be in jubilant places such as taverns, but when everyone was talking at once in such a confined space, it was much harder for him to keep his composure.

Alfyn got on his toes to try and see what was going on at the heart of the cluster of people that marked the center of Goldshore's blended residential and merchant district, but there were just too many people for him to make out what was happening. He let out a sigh before falling back onto his heels. "What's all the hubbub?" he asked as he glanced over to Olberic and H'aanit.

"We mighte as well finden out," H'aanit replied simply as she started to step towards the center of the crowd. She made it a few feet before a voice called out her name, and that was enough to turn her attention away from what was happening, and Cyrus could be seen making his way closer to the group. He was coming down a back alley that would have been too small for Alfyn to navigate easily thanks to his broad frame, but Cyrus' general slenderness gave him the perfect silhouette to slip through.

"The crowds are making navigation of town quite difficult," Cyrus admitted as he came to stand beside H'aanit. He brushed off the edge of his robes with a small sigh. "At the very least, I was able to ascertain how to get a discount at the inn. We should be able to drop our things off there as soon as we can find Ophilia, Tressa, Primrose, and Therion. I believe Ophilia and Tressa went to try and find a few more weapons for us, but I'm unsure as to where the other two could have gotten off to."

"We can searchen for them once this crowde has been cleared," H'aanit suggested. "Right now, it is almost impossible for us to navigaten the area."

"Then let's go and see what's going on," Alfyn said certainly, taking a few steps towards the outskirts of the crowd. It wasn't going to be easy to navigate all the people to see what was going on, but Alfyn was going to do what he could to try for the time being. Besides, they would probably have to get through the crowd in order to find Ophilia and Tressa sooner or later, so they might as well save some time and take care of it then.

The others followed Alfyn closer to the heart of the crowd, though it became apparent after a few moments that it was much harder than they would have liked. Alfyn didn't know what was going on, but whatever it is, it seemed that the one at the heart of the crowd had captured the attention of almost the entirety of Goldshore. It was impressive, he had to admit, but he would have been lying if he said that he wasn't at least a little bit frustrated.

Complaining wasn't going to get him anywhere though, so he chose to focus on simply putting one foot in front of the other as he drew nearer to his destination. Everything surrounding this small mystery would come into focus soon enough... Or so he hoped.

Chapter Text

"Oh, miss, how can we ever repay you?"

Those were the first words Alfyn managed to hear after he broke through the crowd, and he let out a heavy sigh as he looked to the woman who had spoken. She was wearing an elaborate red dress that looked more expensive than anything Alfyn could have ever imagined back in Clearbrook. He gaped at her before realizing that most of the others at the center of the crowd were dressed just as fancily, and he could feel himself growing cheaper just being in the presence of such impressive figures.

"Thanks to your tincture, my husband is out of bed for the first time in weeks!" another woman exclaimed as she clapped her hands together. 

"My word, it worked like a miracle!" came the voice of a third woman as she nodded her agreement. 

The first woman nodded as well. "And for such a modest fee, no less! You could charge tenfold and it would still be a steal!" she cried out. 

There was one person in the crowd who didn't look anywhere near as fancy as the others. It was a young woman with purple hair tied into a ponytail while a small segment fell over one eye. She smiled and pressed a hand to her chest humbly. "Oh, you are far too kind. I was just doing my job," she said simply. "Seeing your hale and hearty smiles is payment enough for me. After all, we apothecaries have a sworn duty to ease suffering wherever we go, do we not?"

It didn't take long for the gears in Alfyn's head to start turning as he took a step out into the center of attention, ignoring the feeling of the eyes of the rich boring into him. "Fine words, those," he told the purple-haired woman. "You must be the apothecary everyone's been talking about."

The woman nodded as her gaze dropped to his bag. "Indeed. Judging by that satchel of yours, I trust I am speaking to a colleague?"

Alfyn nodded as well, a grin on his face. "You bet--though I've only started my journey. I'm Alfyn," he introduced, sticking one hand out to shake hers.

"Vanessa. Vanessa Hysel," the woman replied, returning the gesture and shaking Alfyn's hand with a smile of her own, though her grin was much smaller than Alfyn's was. It made sense; after all, few people could ever hope to match the brightness Alfyn exuded merely by existing.

Alfyn pulled his hand back and gripped at the handle of his satchel. "'A sworn duty to ease suffering,' eh? I like the sound of that," he said. "And I couldn't agree more--it's not about the coin we make. So long as I can keep myself fed, the joy of knowing I've eased someone's pain is all the payment I need."

"But of course. It is for that very purpose that I seek to ever hone my skills," Vanessa replied with a kindred smile. 

"Great minds think alike, eh?" Alfyn beamed. Around them, the aristocrats of Goldshore had started focusing on other conversations amongst themselves, and the crowd of people hoping to speak with Vanessa started to disperse at the realization that she would be talking with Alfyn for quite some time. Alfyn barely noticed despite his previous nerves, instead simply allowing his excitement to carry him through the next part of the conversation. "Hey, would it be too much to ask to take a look at your pharmaceutics?" Vanessa went tense and took a step back, but Alfyn continued regardless. "Just hearing about you, it's clear you're out of my league. The ingredients, the preparation--anything you could teach me, I'm all ears!" 

Vanessa was quiet for a long moment, and something unreadable flashed across her face before she shook her head. Alfyn's smile started to fade away, and he wondered just what was going on in her head to make her seem so hesitant and nervous all of a sudden. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I can't share trade secrets with those in the business..."

Alfyn was quick to recover to make sure he didn't look too disappointed at her refusal or too confused about the brief look of something like anxiety on her face. "Ah, beg pardon. I understand--we do need to put food on the table, after all," he said apologetically. 

"No need for apologies," Vanessa insisted, slipping right back into her previous demeanor almost immediately. "You're quite the diligent one, aren't you?"

Alfyn laughed at that with a grand smile. "Oh, you bet! I'm still new to this, after all. Every day, I'm learning something new," he explained. He paused for a moment as his laughter started to trail off and then vanish from his lips. "At any rate, I'm glad to know this town is in good hands. See ya around."

"You flatter me, friend. Fare thee well," Vanessa smiled as she waved to him. Alfyn turned on his heel and started to walk away, waving in return to Vanessa. She watched him retreat to the other members of his group before her smile started to slip away from her face, replaced by something much more stoic. She turned on her heel and retreated from the area, off to take care of more work.

From the shadows, Therion watched, and his eyes narrowed as he tracked Vanessa's retreat. A moment later, he was slipping after her, his hands shoved in his pockets as he allowed the shadows to reclaim him the way he always did when it was time for a heist.

Though he could already tell this theft wasn't going to have anything to do with physical goods.

Nearby, Alfyn came to a stop beside H'aanit and Olberic, a grin on his face. "You seem much happier now," Olberic remarked with a small smile of his own.

Alfyn nodded. "You bet! No reason to get all down when I know it's all fine. Besides, that was nice," he admitted. "We haven't seen any apothecaries since Zeph back in Clearbrook, and..." He trailed off, working his thumb across the strap of his satchel. "A lot has happened since then."

"You are devoted to your studies. It's most admirable," Cyrus remarked with a smile on his face.

Alfyn just shrugged as he glanced back to the spot where he had spoken with Vanessa a few moments prior. "I've got lots to learn still, that's why," he explained simply. "Even if I spent my every free moment with my nose in the books, it's never enough. Not if I want to treat every injury or illness I come across."

"With your passion, I do not doubt you will one day achieve that," Cyrus assured him. "More than knowledge itself, it is drive and dedication that make someone the best they can be. You already have the most important thing you need for learning.

Alfyn had already been practically glowing from his conversation with Vanessa, but he was as bright as the sun by this point, all of his previous worry having melted away in the face of joy. "You think so? Can't say it ever felt that way to me," he admitted. For Alfyn, passion had always come so naturally. He didn't even need to think about that part; actually committing things to memory was much harder for him, though he supposed everyone learned differently.

"Keep it up, and you will become the apothecary you always wanted to be," Cyrus smiled.

Alfyn felt himself flush, and his ears seemed to catch fire from his embarrassment. "I can't help but feel you're being overly generous here, Professor," he said softly. "But if you have that much faith in me, maybe I should too!"

"Thou shouldst," H'aanit assured him with a nod, and Alfyn couldn't help the way his cheeks started to hurt from pride. "Thou skills remain impressive regardless of how many times I layen eyes on them. Thou has much to be proude of."

Somehow, Alfyn's blushing only became more aggressive at that, and he looked down at his feet so that nobody else would have to see how overwhelmingly red his cheeks had become. "Shucks..." he stammered out. He hadn't realized the others had so much faith in him, he had to admit, and it was enough to make him feel like maybe everything was going to be alright in a way that he couldn't even hope to describe. Unfortunately for him, it came with a healthy dose of embarrassment, and he had no idea how he was supposed to get past that.

Luckily, Olberic seemed to notice that Alfyn needed a few moments to calm down from the sudden onslaught of praise, and he cleared his throat before starting to direct the group back in the direction of the town's front area. "Perhaps we should move to the inn next," he suggested. "Now that Cyrus is back with the information we were looking for, we should be able to drop off our things and then continue looking around town without too many issues."

"That sounds like a splendid idea," Cyrus agreed with a nod as he followed after Olberic. He spared a brief glance to Alfyn along the way. "You look flushed, Alfyn. Perhaps you should get some air away from the crowd."

Alfyn couldn't help but laugh inwardly at how Cyrus was the one who had embarrassed him so thoroughly and was now clueless about everything that he had done. Sure, H'aanit had held a part in it as well, but Alfyn knew that H'aanit wasn't going to be quite so unaware of the reasoning behind Alfyn's shift in behavior. It was perfectly on brand for Cyrus if nothing else; he knew everything a person could ever dream of when it came to books, but when it came to socializing with others, he certainly had a few areas that could use improvement. It was part of his charm.

"Perhaps thou couldst taken a walke by the beach," H'aanit suggested. "That shoulde help thou to feel better." She reached one hand down to stroke at Linde's head along the way, and the snow leopard nuzzled against her touch with a small purr.

Alfyn nodded. That did sound like a good idea, especially given that he had been planning on heading to the beach before he met up with H'aanit and Ellen. "I'll see you guys at the inn soon then," he smiled as the stairway leading to the beach came into view. He jogged off while the others turned to look at the inn so that they could reserve their rooms.

Alfyn started down the stairwell, but he stopped halfway when he saw a figure standing in the sand near the ocean. It was a young girl, and upon closer examination, Alfyn realized that it was none other than Ellen. She was humming a song to herself as she looked over the area, searching for something in a way that only a child with a whimsical and endless imagination would be able to. She eventually gasped when she found what she was looking for, and she leaned down to pick up a small object. She looked at it with eyes so bright that her whole face lit up, and all the innocence and wonder in the world seemed to converge on a single point as a result of her joy. Ellen beamed at the item before pressing it against her chest and slipping it into her bag.

Alfyn finally found the courage to traverse the remainder of the stairs and arrive on the sand below. He pressed his hands to his hips as he looked to the young girl with a grin. "Well, lookee here," he said casually. 

Ellen waved to him. "Hello again, Alfyn," she grinned. She reached into her bag before pulling out the small object that she had found on the sand, stretching her hand out in his direction. "This is for you! Do you like it?"

Alfyn's eyes went wide at the sight of a small white shell. It was a shark's eye, he realized on closer examination, and gentle streaks of tan marked the side. It was pressed perfectly at the center of her palm, and a few flecks of sand could be seen on the shell. He picked it up gingerly and held it up to his face it with a grin that could never be restrained. "A seashell?" he asked. "Thanks! It's a beaut." He tucked it away in a small compartment of his satchel that had gone unused ever since he left Clearbrook. He wanted to keep track of it and make sure he didn't lose it no matter what. Alfyn was prone to being a bit messy sometimes, but the last thing he wanted was to let that get the better of him now.

"Thank you for helping me," Ellen corrected him. 

Alfyn chuckled a bit at that. "I didn't do much, but consider your payment accepted," he told her. A warm sensation was starting to spread through his chest, and he knew that this was a moment he wasn't going to forget for quite some time. 

"I give the prettiest ones to Flynn. She likes them too," Ellen went on. 

Alfyn's eyes dropped to her bag, and he realized that a few shells were peeking out from pockets on the side. He let out a small laugh at how her bag seemed to resemble his in a strange way, though hers held only seashells and other childhood treasures as opposed to herbs and concoctions. "You're really raking them in. I bet you could sell them at markets for a small fortune!" 

Ellen giggled at that, though her expression went somewhat serious a few moments later. "I know... That's why I give most of them to Mother," she explained. That was enough to pique Alfyn's attention, and he tilted his head to the side slightly to prompt her to continue. Ellen did, but she refused to meet his gaze as she fiddled with the strap on her bag with absentminded fingers. "She cries sometimes because we don't have any money."

"You don't say..." Alfyn murmured as he looked at the sand below. He knew the feeling all too well; his mother had once worried about the same things, and his chest felt a pull of guilt and a desire to help. He had been there more times than he wanted to admit, and he wished there was more he could do to ease Marlene's suffering, but he doubted that she would allow it given their previous interaction.

"How about you, Alfyn? Do you have money?" Ellen asked as she looked up to him with wide, curious eyes. 

Alfyn did his best to keep his shoulders from locking up. The last thing he wanted to tell Ellen was that all the money he and his traveling party was using to get by had been stolen from Stillsnow when they dismantled Rufus' brothel. It was all thanks to Therion taking every little piece of Rufus' fortune that they had been able to get through the money sink that was Noblecourt, and while they still had more than enough leaves to press on, Alfyn knew they were going to have to start replenishing their supply soon, especially given that they were buying weapons while in town. That was bound to put a dent in the leaves that they had stockpiled as of late.

But he couldn't have Ellen knowing any of that, so he simply nodded instead. "I think you got me beat with all those shells, but I get by," he told her with a small yet comforting smile.

Ellen's eyes went wide as she took a step back, and Alfyn could tell that she had seen more than any child should ever have to because of her family's poverty. "Are you sure? I can give you some if you need them..."

Alfyn shook his head with a small chuckle. "Money makes the world go 'round, this much is true," he began. "But you know what, Ellen?" She tilted her head to the side, and he smiled as he went on. "You, Flynn, and your mother have each other, and that's more valuable than all the money in the world." 

Alfyn pretended he didn't feel the way his stomach churned at those words, knowing that he wished he had something like that on his side these days. Even after so much time had passed since his mother's death, he missed her with everything he had. Some days were better than others, but if there was something he could do to help others make the most of every moment so they didn't have to feel the way he did quite yet... How could he not take advantage of it?

Ellen thought about it for a long moment before she tilted her head to the side. "It is?"

Alfyn simply nodded as he placed one hand on her shoulder. "You can bet on it."

Ellen began to work the fabric of her bag's strap back and forth between her fingers once again as she continued to contemplate Alfyn's words. "Mother says Flynn still needs to rest..." she murmured. "But when she feels better, we're going to come back and collect seashells together."

Alfyn crouched beside Ellen, sensing the young girl's mounting worry. "Don't you worry about that!" he assured her. "That Vanessa knows her stuff. Flynn'll be doing cartwheels in no time."

Ellen beamed at that and nodded. "I can't wait!" she cried in excitement, and Alfyn had to admit that it was beautiful to be able to see the way she was able to bounce back so easily. It was a special skill that only children possessed as far as he could tell, and it was sweet to witness for Alfyn. Childhood truly was a gift.

Ellen picked up another shell that had fallen on the sand beside her, brought in by the gentle whisper of the tide nearby. She examined it before tucking it away into her bag. "I'm going to give these shells to Flynn and Mother! I bet they're going to love them!" she cried out. She dashed off towards the stairs at that, waving to Alfyn along the way. "I'll see you later, Alfyn!"

The apothecary waved to her with a fond smile as she left, and he reached his fingers into his bag to pull out the shell that she had given him. He brushed the pad of his pointer finger over the surface, loving the sensation of the shell's smooth surface beneath his grasp. It was incredible how children could find magic in even the smallest things. Growing up took away a lot of the wonder from the world, and Alfyn found himself wondering what it would be like to be able to go back to that, even if it was just for a little while.

Seeing Ellen able to look at the universe with such hope in her eyes made him sure that there was good out there. Even after dealing with the corrupting power of the ruby dragonstone or the ruthless cruelty of Rufus, it was nice to know that there was some kindness to be found. He committed everything he could about the encounter with Ellen to memory as he started towards the stairs, unable to keep a fond smile off his face as he moved back in the direction of the inn. 

"Hey there, Alfyn!"

The apothecary let out a scream of surprise as Tressa appeared in his path, and he clamped the hand with the shell against his chest to try and stabilize himself before he fell over. He breathed heavily for a few seconds before he sighed and managed to get a grip on himself once again. "Tress! Where did you come from?"

"I've been here for the last few minutes. I didn't want to interrupt your moment with that little girl," Tressa explained. "Ophilia's back with the others getting everything set up at the inn. I decided I'd come and see you while they were working on that though."

Alfyn nodded his understanding as silence fell between them, though it didn't take long for Tressa to break the quiet once again. "It's beautiful, that shell," she commented.

Alfyn pulled the small shell away from his chest so that both of them could look at it. He couldn't help smiling at the sight of it despite how much Tressa had terrified him a few moments prior. "Ain't it, though? Ellen's got a heart of gold."

"I'll say!" Tressa agreed. "Mind if I get a closer look?" She held out her hand to take the shell, and after a moment, Alfyn nodded and passed it over to her. After a few seconds of looking, she hummed, and Alfyn figured that it was only natural she knew a thing or two about shells. After all, she had grown up in a Coastlands town near the sea too.

"This shell..." Tressa murmured under her breath.

Alfyn paused as he examined the gleam in her eyes. It reminded him all too much of what she looked like when she struck gold on a deal while in the market, and from there, it was easy enough to put the pieces together. "You're thinking it might be something rare? Valuable, even?"

"Let's see now..." Tressa continued to mutter. "Why, yes, I'm sure of it! This shell... Is utterly ordinary." Alfyn stared at her for a long moment at the fact that she had tricked him in such a way, but Tressa's previous expression of examination faded away as she smiled with so much genuine love that it melted Alfyn's heart. "In terms of monetary value, at least. But Ellen gave it to you with all the gratitude in her heart... And that means there's no treasure like it in all the world!"

Alfyn chuckled as he took the shell back from her, continuing to drag one finger across its surface again a moment later. "I see what you did there..." He paused as he clutched the shell tightly to his chest and smiled to her with everything he could. "But thank you, Tress."

"The most important treasures are the ones with personal value to us," Tressa told him next. "So don't lose it now, you hear?"

"I wouldn't dream of it," Alfyn assured her with a grin as he tucked the shell away into his satchel pocket once again. "What do you say we go to help out the others now? I'm sure they're wondering where you got off to."

"Sounds good to me!" Tressa agreed as she started to march off towards the inn. Alfyn smiled at the sight of her joy before following in her footsteps. Tressa certainly knew a thing or two about what was really important, and he was glad that even a merchant would agree that his words hadn't led Ellen astray.

The world truly was a great place, wasn't it?

~~~~~

All things considered, following the mysterious apothecary woman around town was probably not a good idea, but it wasn't as if Therion really had a lot of those these days.

It was all based on pure instinct, really. Something just told him that he had to follow her for some reason he couldn't exactly define with words. He had earned a fortune or two on trusting his gut since he first became a thief, and he wasn't going to stop after how far he had come. Something was going on with that woman, and he was determined to figure out what it was.

Most people wouldn't have been suspicious of her at all because they didn't have much of a reason to be. Therion, on the other hand, knew better than to let outward appearances tell him if a person was innocent or guilty. He had figured out that there was something going on with her based on a few lucky guesses, and he was determined to pursue it to the end to figure out just what was going on. It had only been a flicker of something strange on her face when she was talking with Alfyn that tipped Therion off about something being wrong, but he wasn't going to let that small clue slip away from him when it could turn out to be important.

Therion knew what he was doing deep down; he was assuming the worst in people because he was afraid of trusting them. He had declared rather loud and clear back in Bolderfall that he didn't want to trust anybody because they would just wind up hurting him. If he said the words enough, then maybe they would start to ring true. He knew it wasn't going to be that easy, but he still found himself believing it in some twisted way. It was irritating that he couldn't bring himself to just recognize that other people were going to hurt him, but at the same time, it was annoying that he couldn't let them help him. That was what they were there for, right? Alfyn had made that much clear back in Noblecourt, and so had everyone else in their own special ways. 

He wouldn't have gotten wrapped up in all of this if not for Ophilia reaching out to him, and while he was tempted to say that he wished she had never tried to find him, he knew that would be a lie from the start. Of course he was happy that she had reached out and let him join their group. He never thought it would be that easy, and yet, there he was, feeling better than ever despite never seeing it coming. He hadn't felt this on top of the world since--

No. This wasn't the time. He had to stay focused.

Following Vanessa was perhaps the most ridiculous thing he could have done in that moment. A normal person would have found the rest of the group and tried to make it all up to them after he had said such terrible things despite knowing it would hurt them. His casual displays of self-sabotage must have struck a nerve for at least some of them, and he should have been trying to fix that instead of chasing some random apothecary as she wandered through Goldshore. Alfyn seemed to trust her, and he had good taste in people who were trustworthy, right?

Therion had once thought the same thing, but he had been stabbed in the back too.

Maybe that was the real reason he was doing all of this. He was shrinking through the shadows because if something really was going on with Vanessa, he wanted to know about it before she could raise a knife to them. Part of him knew that he was probably just being paranoid and that a moment of uncertainty and a refusal to share trade secrets was normal, but he found himself terrified of not doing anything at the same time. He was trying to make it up to the others for betraying their care and faith in him by trying to find somebody else who could do it worse. What kind of friend was he?

Therion did his best to shove the self-loathing thoughts as far back into his mind as possible as he walked after her to the edge of the merchant quarter. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at the ground to seem as inconspicuous as possible as Vanessa started to walk back to the entrance of town. She couldn't be leaving quite yet, right? She would have no reason to as long as she was doing so much for the townspeople. If that was the case, then why was she heading to the front of town? Under any other circumstances, Therion wouldn't have bothered to wonder, but he couldn't help feeling like there was something else going on here.

Much to Therion's surprise, Vanessa completely ignored the inn and tavern nearby, instead shifting her attention to a small path that would take her to the wilds outside the town. She glanced over her shoulder with worry in her eyes to make sure nobody was following her, and Therion pressed himself against a sandy crag to get out of view just in time. It was only by a stroke of a miracle that she didn't see him, and Vanessa sighed her relief before starting to walk off in the direction of the nearby area.

Therion wouldn't be able to follow her any farther. If she got an inkling that he was following her, then he was probably going to find himself in a world of trouble. He sighed in frustration and looked at her silhouette as it faded against the path. He had no reason to not trust her, but he found himself feeling as if there was still something wrong just beneath the surface.

It was impossible for Therion to put a finger on everything that was rushing through his mind when it came to her, but he could tell that there was something else going on behind those eyes of hers. Therion had learned how to identify the suspicious sort over his many years as a thief, and he could tell that there was something she didn't want anybody to know about. Secrets were normal though, so why was he getting so upset about something like this?

Therion's mind was cast back to her conversation with Alfyn, and he frowned at the thought. Vanessa claimed to be doing this for the good of everyone rather than a profit, but she wasn't willing to share her antidote tincture with him. Wouldn't telling him be better for the people of Goldshore so they could heal people at double the pace? That seemed like a contradiction in and of itself, and it was enough to make Therion glare at the place where she had dashed off towards the wilds. 

He didn't know what was going through her head, but something told him she was nowhere near as noble as Alfyn wanted to believe. Therion wondered if that made her better or worse than him, and his stomach did flips all over again.

Chapter Text

After the group had gotten settled in at the inn, there was only one logical course of action: to find Therion. It wasn't uncommon for the thief to run off and do his own thing, and in fact, it seemed to be a habit for him the rest of the group didn't know how to break. Alfyn was more than willing to let Therion spend time on his own while he cooled off, but he also knew that it was important to pass on the message to Therion that they had a place at the inn for the night. In other words, it was going to be important for him and the others to figure out where Therion was as soon as possible.

After a scan of the front half of town turned up no results, the group of seven ultimately elected to head to the back end of Goldshore to try and see if they could find him. Alfyn frowned as he looked around, hoping that Therion would make himself obvious by accident. He somehow doubted the thief would make a mistake like that if he was deliberately trying to stay hidden--which he most likely was--but it was worth a shot of hoping, right?

Alfyn frowned to himself when a mix of voices reached his ears. He perked up and glanced around to try and find the source of the noise, but he was cut off by Ophilia pointing up a nearby set of stairs that led to the residential area just outside the entrance to the Goldshore cathedral. "Look over there!" she exclaimed.

Alfyn followed her finger with his eyes and saw that there were about eight people gathered together and talking in a loud hurry. Upon closer inspection, he realized that most of them had been present in the crowd of people speaking with Vanessa that morning. His stomach twisted itself into a knot, and he gestured for the others to follow him. "Come on," he said softly. He had no evidence that something was wrong, but he could just tell that this wasn't going to be something he wanted to hear about.

Vanessa was standing at the center of the crowd, and a woman in an elaborate red dress with desperation and tears in her eyes was pulling on her hand. "Miss Hysel, come quickly! My husband won't stop coughing!" she exclaimed. 

Vanessa's eyes went wide at the words. "Oh dear, isn't that a shame? It seems there's a nasty malady going around," she told the woman in concern. She thought about it for a moment before nodding, seemingly having come to a conclusion based on what the townsfolk had told her prior to Alfyn's arrival. "The Gaborra whooping cough, it's called. It hails from a land far, far to the south." Vanessa shook her head a moment later though as she placed a hand on the woman's shoulder. "But worry not. Among my wares is a tonic that will cure it overnight."

"Oh, Miss Hysel! I knew we could count on you!" another woman cried out as she clapped her hands together in delight. 

Vanessa, meanwhile, put her hand in her satchel before pulling out a small bottle and passing it to the woman beside her. The aristocrat looked at it carefully, handling the bottle like it was worth its weight in gold a thousand times over. "My word... Even the bottle is simply exquisite! And this will cure him, you say?" she asked. 

Vanessa nodded. "It most certainly will. It's brewed from a very special type of moss, you see," she explained. She glanced around the area to address all the people that had come to surround her, no doubt seeking the cure for the cough that had begun to circulate. "One that only grows in a remote--and quite treacherous--location. Because of the rarity of the key reagent, I fear I must charge a substantial fee..."

"Money's no object to us!" a man from the crowd exclaimed. "We'll pay anything!"

Vanessa smiled as she clapped her hands together. "Splendid! In that case, one hundred thousand leaves a phial should suffice," she replied.

The silence that ripped through the crowd was palpable, and Alfyn felt as if he had been punched in the stomach. Rufus hadn't even had that much money, and while the group had been able to procure quite a few leaves from him after his ring was dismantled, they still didn't even have half of that. Hell, Alfyn was convinced that was more money than he would ever see in his entire life, and the words were enough to make him feel as if he had stopped breathing.

Looking over to the others told him that they were in much the same position. Even Primrose, who had lived in the lap of luxury for the first half of her life, was unable to hide her shock. The aristocrats that had surrounded Vanessa were just as surprised, and Alfyn couldn't help wondering what kind of moss was rare enough that it warranted a price tag like that.

"Oh dear, that is... Substantial," came the soft voice of an older woman in the crowd. 

"Still, my dear daughter's life is at stake!" the man from before cried out, desperation laced in every word. "I'll take it!" He and Vanessa quickly got to exchanging leaves, and he took the phial carefully between his fingers before pressing it to his chest for safekeeping.

Another woman paused before she finally seemed to surrender all thoughts of her fortune. "If Lady Hysel made it, then I'm sure it's worth every leaf. I'll take two!" she declared as she moved closer to the apothecary to complete the purchase.

The first woman Vanessa had been speaking to nodded. "For me as well! I'll spare no cost for the health of my loved ones!" she announced. 

Vanessa tucked the last of the leaves into her satchel as she turned to the aristocrats with a smile on her face. "Pleasure doing business with you, friends," she told them casually, and Alfyn felt his stomach continue to churn. 

"M'lady!"

Another voice cut through the crowd, and Alfyn looked over to see none other than Marlene approaching Vanessa, her hands pressed against her chest and her eyes wide with terror. He watched her carefully, feeling something inside of him stand to attention from anxiety all the while. "I fear my Flynn has come down with the cough too," she explained.

Vanessa pushed through the rest of the crowd before placing one hand on Marlene's shoulder. "The poor girl... You have my sympathies," she said softly with worry slipping into every word. 

"I fear that we do not have the coin that the gentry do, but..." Marlene reached into a small bag on her shoulders to show a small coin purse. She extended it in Vanessa's direction, her fingers shaking. "Here. This is my entire savings. Might you pray sell me a single phial? Even just a sip... Anything to save my poor Flynn..."

Vanessa looked at the money for a long moment before she shook her head. "I'm sorry, miss... But I fear my medicine is in high demand and short supply," she explained. "I simply cannot let go of it so... Cheaply."

Marlene took another step towards her as Vanessa turned to face the aristocrats nearby. She grabbed Vanessa's wrist with desperation in her eyes. Tears were threatening to fall down her cheeks as she stood there trembling. "Please, have mercy!" Marlene cried out.

Vanessa was wordless as she pulled her arm away and went back to the crowd waiting for her. They were all too happy to ignore Marlene, and the woman watched Vanessa leave with heartbreak in her eyes. She allowed her hand and coin purse to fall back to her side as her tears finally began to fall. "My poor Flynn!" she whispered intensely. "Whatever am I to do...?"

A few moments later, Marlene took off running in the opposite direction, tears continuing to rush down her face. Marlene didn't even notice the rest of the traveling party as she darted by them, and Alfyn watched her with wide, stunned eyes. After a beat of hesitation, he ran after her, leading to confusion from the rest of the group. Marlene had been rude to Alfyn before, yes, but as far as he was concerned, that was all water under the bridge when compared to the vulnerable life of a child.

Marlene ran through the winding streets of Goldshore for about two minutes before she finally stopped, her energy giving out. She pressed her back against a nearby building, her eyes wide as she swallowed dryly in an unsuccessful attempt to hold back her remaining tears. "My poor, poor Flynn..." she whispered somberly. She clasped her hands together and turned in the direction of the church nearby. Even in the alleyway, it towered over the rest of Goldshore, and Marlene looked atop the spires like she thought they were her last chance of ever finding salvation. "O, merciful Aelfric... Pray bring the Flame to light our path..."

After a few moments of silence, Marlene allowed her hands to fall back to her sides, tears still rushing freely from her eyes. "My dearest... Ever since I lost you, I have scarce been able to feed and clothe our girls..." she whispered tenderly. "They have suffered far more than their share... And yet, every day they bring me seashells... They tell me to smile... Must I look on helpless as poor Flynn wastes away? Have I failed them once and for all?" She clasped her hands together once again as she cast her eyes to the church. "O gods, if there is still mercy in this world... Please save her... I pray with all my heart and soul..."

It was around this point that Alfyn finally managed to find Marlene. It was a bit of a struggle to pursue her after she had taken off so suddenly, but he had been determined to do at least something to help her. He came to stand beside her, and Marlene stared up at him in surprise and anxiety. "Mind if I drop in?" Alfyn said kindly, not wanting to cross any lines while still assuring her that he was there for her if she needed him.

It took a moment for Marlene to put the pieces together as to who was speaking to her, and she tried to blink her tears away as recognition dawned on her features. "You... You're that..."

Alfyn simply smiled and shrugged. "One scraggly, scruffy-looking apothecary at your service," he told her simply. He allowed his smile to become much softer as he reached out one hand in her direction before placing it on her shoulder. "I might not be Miss Hysel, but if you need my help... It's yours." Marlene paused to think, and Alfyn took this as his cue to continue. "So how about it? The gods may be all-powerful, but a checkup never hurts."

Marlene nodded and started to walk back in the direction of her home. Alfyn trailed after her, hoping that the rest of his friends knew that he was going to be able to handle himself. They surely knew that much, but he still didn't want to worry them. He could catch up with them later and explain everything after looking after Flynn. After all, he had to do at least something to try and help Flynn. If he didn't, he would never be able to forgive himself.

~~~~~

Contrary to what Vanessa had said that morning while treating Flynn, the young girl was, as a matter of fact, not up and about with excitement in her eyes. Instead, she was still curled up in bed the same way she had been before, though this time, she looked even more afraid. Ellen watched on with worry in her eyes, sensing the severity of the situation but not knowing what she could do. Marlene stood nearby, biting on her thumb's nail as Alfyn crouched at Flynn's side to examine the girl's sleeping form.

Flynn could barely seem to go a few moments without coughing, curling in over herself with each sudden wheeze that pushed its way free of her small and vulnerable lungs. There were tears in her eyes from the exertion, like she couldn't seem to calm herself and her body down no matter what she tried. It most certainly was a severe cough just like Vanessa had said, and Alfyn found himself silently wondering how it was that something so serious had begun spreading throughout town without making a stir sooner. How did Vanessa know about what everyone was sick with before she could even visit a patient? Surely she would have mentioned it if she had seen someone get sick with this malady in Goldshore before, right?

Alfyn's whirling thoughts were cut off when he heard Ellen's voice beside him. "Alfyn..." the girl whimpered, unable to hide her concern. She was silently pleading with him to do something--anything--to save her sister, but she couldn't push out the words no matter how hard she tried.

Alfyn focused on the situation at hand a moment later, and he let out a careful breath before forcing himself to speak. "This isn't good. She's coughing so hard she can barely breathe," he murmured. "How did a disease from a far-flung land come to this town anyhow?" 

It didn't make any sense no matter how he thought about it. Realistically, the disease would have started south and made its way north, but no other towns along the way had struggled this way. Goldshore's ports were much smaller than other coast towns such as Rippletide or Grandport as well, so it seemed strange to think that it had come from overseas to settle here of all places. On top of that, it didn't seem to be quite as rare as Vanessa claimed if there were so many people infected with it already. It hadn't been a problem a few hours ago; he would have heard about it if that was the case, and the previous sicknesses he had heard about were nothing like this. Nothing seemed to come together as per Vanessa's description, and it was enough to make Alfyn's stomach churn.

Alfyn pushed himself to his feet before turning to look at Marlene. "You said it was Vanessa's medicine that cured your daughter's fever, yes?" he asked of her. 

Marlene nodded. "It sure did. It worked like a miracle."

Alfyn crossed his arms with a small frown. "What kind of medicine was it?" he questioned. He didn't have all the facts yet, and the best place to start would be to learn more on this front. Perhaps this wasn't the same disease Vanessa thought it was; it could have been caused by something else, such as other comorbidities or a reaction to the medication. What Alfyn did know though was that something was wrong here, and he had to figure out what it was.

"What kind?" Marlene echoed. She walked over to the countertop nearby and started to open a few drawers before she struck gold and pulled out the bottle, looking at it carefully after raising it to eye level. "There are still a few drops left..."

"Let me see it," Alfyn said firmly. Marlene was quick to comply, and she handed him the bottle. Alfyn began to examine it carefully, searching for anything that could have been considered a clue regarding this sudden sickness. All the while, the sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach refused to leave him be. In fact, it only seemed to get worse with time, and Alfyn prayed to the Flame a thousand times over that this wasn't what he was starting to fear.

Alfyn uncorked the bottle and sniffed at the opening at the top of the glass. "This aroma... It must have been brewed from Gaborra evergreen," he murmured. He had gotten a few supplies of it a few years ago, and he would recognize that distinctive smell anywhere even after so much time had passed.  "That would make sense. It's a potent fever reducer, after all." He pressed the bottle back in Marlene's hands before starting to shuffle his hands through the bag at his side. "But I remember reading something else about it..."

A few moments later, Alfyn pulled out a small book. It was his treasured field guide to the world of medicine, something that he had bought from a traveling merchant coming through Clearbrook many years prior. Since then, he had marked up the margins and the blank pages at the back with notes of his own, doing everything he could to keep all of his knowledge in one place. Unfortunately, that meant the book was somewhat cluttered, so it took him a few moments to find the page he was looking for. 

"What was it now...?" Alfyn murmured as he continued flicking through the pages. "Wait, here it is!" He paused and pressed his finger to the page in question before starting to read. "'Gaborra evergreen: a flowering plant native to the tropical and subtropical regions of the continent of Gaborra known for its antipyretic properties. A constituent compound has been known to cause inflammation and swelling of the throat, inducing severe coughing. The symptoms resemble those of the whooping cough known to plague the land from whence it hails. Due to the risk of severe and adverse reactions, use of Gaborra evergreen in any dosage is strongly discouraged.'"

That was all it took for the pieces to come slamming into place, and Alfyn's eyes went wide as he slowly closed the book, unable to look at the words for any longer than he already had. "That Vanessa... She couldn't have!" he whispered in intense rage as he glanced over to where Flynn was still curled up in bed, coughing wildly and desperately trying to catch her breath despite her body fighting against her at every turn. 

I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I can't share trade secrets with those in the business...

She knew exactly what she was doing all along. She couldn't tell Alfyn what ingredients she was using to blend her medicine because it would expose that she was working with Gaborra evergreen. The idea that it was a mistake was out of the question too; Alfyn had seen the look on her face, and there was no way in hell that Vanessa wasn't aware of what she was doing. It had only been a brief moment where the truth illuminated itself across her features, but that was more than enough for Alfyn. He didn't know what it meant at the time, but everything had become all too clear, and he didn't think he was going to be able to break away from this revelation any time soon. How could he when it was so clear that Vanessa was hurting people deliberately?

It was all part of her greater plan. She gave out the medicine for the previous sickness for free to gain a reputation for helping people and knowing what she was doing. All it would take was a matter of hours for the symptoms to set in, but nobody would realize what was happening was a result of her actions. After all, none of the people in Goldshore had the experience necessary to call her out on it. The medication to cure the cough would be more than expensive enough to net her a fortune, and she took advantage of people's love of their family to take everything they had and get away with it. If Alfyn had to guess, he would say that the medication that cured the cough wasn't that expensive at all; this was all just because of her greed, and the villagers were merely cogs in the machine. 

Alfyn was practically shaking by this point, his fingers digging brutally into the worn cover of his book. "That twisted, conniving..." he muttered, only barely managing to keep himself from uttering something worse upon the reminder that Ellen was standing just beside him. He couldn't believe that Vanessa would misuse her position to commit such disgusting acts, and all he wanted to do was destroy her for what she had done. She had been planning to use everyone from the start, and she didn't care at all about what she had to do in order to get it done.

Alfyn pushed his book back into his bag before crossing the room to stand at Flynn's side. She had managed to find a break between the coughs, though there were tears in her eyes from the exertion of trying to clear her lungs. "Hold tight, Flynn. I'll have you feeling better in no time. Gimme two jiffs, and I'll brew you up just the thing you need!" Alfyn whispered soothingly. He wasn't sure if the girl could even hear him, but he knew that he had to do something to fix all of this. Vanessa had created this mess, but he was going to clean it up. He owed that much to the people who she had hurt along the way. If he stood back and let it all happen, he would be just as bad of a person as she was.

Much to Alfyn's surprise, Flynn did open her eyes, though they were half-lidded and weak. "Thank you..." She was cut off by another fit of coughing a moment later, and she curled in on herself as tears continued to stream down her face from the pain.

Ellen was watching Alfyn uncertainly, no doubt trying to figure out just what conclusion he had come to. "Alfyn..." she murmured worriedly. 

"Vanessa said something about a special moss. A moss that can cure coughing..." Alfyn whispered, one hand coming up to cup at his chin as he thought the situation through as much as possible. He needed a plan if he was going to fix this, and running out in a fit of emotion wasn't going to help anyone. He had studied every potential medicinal component that he knew of, and he had to be aware of something related to what Vanessa had been talking about.

After a few moments of thought, Alfyn snapped his fingers and looked over to Marlene. "That's it! Miss, have you ever seen a moss around here that glows blue?" he questioned. 

Marlene seemed caught off guard at that, and her eyes went wide in shock. "Moss?" she echoed. "I... I've never heard of such a thing." She paused to think for a moment before looking back up to Alfyn. "But I don't get out of town much. You might try asking around?" She seemed confused, clearly at as much of a loss as Ellen was when it came to what was going through Alfyn's head. He didn't bother explaining it; they would know all they had to as soon as he was able to find that moss and cure Flynn for good.

"You'd bloody better, Alfyn!" Ellen exclaimed. 

Marlene was left aghast at her daughter's language, pink starting to creep into her cheeks. "Ellen! Where did you learn such language?" she asked in surprise. Ellen simply chuckled in response.

Alfyn put a hand on Ellen's shoulder and let a smile like golden sunshine spread across his features once again even though he didn't feel much like smiling. What choice did he have though? After all, if the adults stopped smiling, the kids would know something was up. "You just sit tight and keep Flynn company, okay?" he instructed of her. Ellen nodded, and just like that, Alfyn was off.

He was ultimately unsurprised when he ran into the rest of his travel party--sans Therion, which was to be expected by this point--standing outside the inn nearby. Tressa dashed up to him a moment later, reaching out for his hand with wide eyes. "There you are!" she exclaimed. "We were starting to worry about you!"

"The last time we saw you before now, you were running off in pursuit of a woman..." Cyrus murmured. "We assumed that you would return here eventually after you were finished settling whatever business you had with her."

"It was the younge girl's mother, was it not?" H'aanit questioned, and Alfyn nodded in response. H'aanit's expression went tight at the confirmation. "I see... I do hopen that she is alright."

"She will be," Alfyn assured her. "For now, we have something much more important to do. We have to talk to other people around town so that we can figure out just what is going on. Something here isn't making sense, and if I had to guess, it has to do with Vanessa."

"The apothecary from before?" Olberic inquired, his eyes widening ever so slightly.

Alfyn nodded, his expression growing solemn. "If my suspicions are correct... She's up to something, and we have to figure out what it is. Let's find anyone we can to ask them what's going on."

The other travelers nodded at his words, clearly in no state to question him now that he had set his eyes on something so firmly. Alfyn gestured for them to follow before he started off to the rest of Goldshore. He had no idea what Vanessa was truly getting at, but he was going to figure it out. If she was meaning to hurt the people of Goldshore for her own aims, then he was going to have to stop her no matter what.

Even if it meant rattling everything he had ever known along the way.

~~~~~

It was a wonder nobody else was suspicious of Vanessa.

Therion had been hiding in an alleyway not far from the heart of town when everyone began buzzing about their family members and friends getting sick. The aristocrats of Goldshore were all too happy to fork over as much money as was necessary to heal those they cared for, and Vanessa had been all too happy about it. She could try to act sad about the pain others were going from, but Theroin wasn't falling for it for a moment. She was hardly the best actress, and her joy at receiving the money was more than enough to block out any sadness that she could have felt. She didn't actually pity them at all; she didn't have an ounce of sympathy in her body for anybody aside from herself, and it made Therion sick.

He couldn't help wondering if anyone else knew the truth about what had happened. He had seen Alfyn chase after another woman within the streets of Goldshore to try and help her after hearing her daughter was sick, but he wasn't able to bring himself to approach them. Therion's stomach just twisted at the sight of what was happening and he hoped that he was wrong. Heavens above, he hoped he was wrong.

Therion didn't like not trusting people. How was he supposed to enjoy isolating himself from the rest of the world when connection felt so good? It was like a drug that he couldn't seem to pull away from; he wasn't supposed to be talking to others when all they ever did was betray him. And yet, he couldn't help but come running back in hopes that somebody would be able to help him out of the hole that he had dug for himself after years of misspent trust and faith in others. Therion found it incredible that any of his companions could trust the people around them, and he wanted to say that he trusted them too. Deep down, he knew the truth, but he couldn't bring himself to admit it.

Therion wanted Alfyn to be right about Vanessa just being a kind apothecary trying to do the best she could for the people of Goldshore. He was desperate to hear that he was wrong about everything he had come to suspect. Therion wasn't sure what the full picture was, but he could say that Vanessa's greed had something to do with it. 

He had seen that same look in somebody else's eyes before... And it had been just before they tried to send him to the very hells that he would spend the next few years of his life trying to escape.

Unfiltered greed was dangerous. Desire was natural for all humans, but allowing it to spiral out of control was a risk that no person should have had to take. Therion didn't want to think that Vanessa had already tipped over the edge, that she was getting close to bringing down so much around her in the name of her own ego, but he knew better than to let himself be too caught up in optimism. The truth was clear as could be, and he had seen it in her eyes the second she tried to hide the facts from Alfyn about what she was doing.

Therion was going to try and follow her for a little bit longer--to find evidence of what she was up to--since he knew that he had to do something to stop her. He would never forgive himself if he let somebody who reminded him so much of the demon that lived in his nightmares roam free. He had to try something to stop Vanessa, and if it wasn't for the people of Goldshore, then it had to be for Alfyn. He deserved that much, and damn it, Therion didn't want Alfyn to stop trusting people when that was one of his best traits.

The thief shook off his bitter regrets and ignored the way his shaking hands caused the fool's bangle to jingle over the white noise of the ocean lapping at the shore. He wasn't going to be able to learn anything unless he got started, and he had waited long enough. There had to be something going on with Vanessa, and he was going to find it no matter what came next.

He had to do it. No matter what, he couldn't let another monster roam free after he had let the last one escape.

Chapter Text

After leaving behind Ellen, Flynn, and Marlene's home, Alfyn began to scan the area with a frown on his face. He admittedly didn't know where to start when it came to gathering information, but he figured that the tavern would be as good a place to start as any. He had learned that taverns were one of the best places to learn more about the surrounding area, and Therion had only followed up on that to make it ring even truer in Alfyn's ears. In other words, it was likelier they would find information there than anywhere else, and given that they were on a time crunch, Alfyn was desperate to get inside to start asking questions.

Alfyn paused just outside the tavern when he noticed that there was a strange path leading out of town nearby. He stared at it for a long moment, watching the crags carefully like he expected answers to come to life while he was standing there watching. He shook it off a moment later and turned in the direction of the tavern, and much to his surprise, he saw a man standing just outside the entrance of the building. He was counting leaves as far as Alfyn could tell.

The apothecary was quick to tap him on the shoulder after drawing nearer. "Excuse me, sir..." he said carefully, prompting the man to look up. He jabbed one finger over his shoulder in the direction of the winding path that led off into the distance. "Would you be able to tell me what all is back that way?"

The man straightened up after pocketing his leaves, a small frown on his face. "That's not somewhere you'd want to be going," he told Alfyn. "It's dangerous. There are a couple monsters that have decided to settle down in those caves, and they're prone to attacking just about anybody who gets too close. The only people who would be able to get back there would be great fighters. I don't know what's in the caves at the end of the path, but I'm willing to bet that it's not worth the risk."

Alfyn nodded along slowly at that, and he remembered from his past readings that there were many types of moss that tended to grow in dark, moist areas like that. In other words, it wouldn't be out of the question to say that there was at least something interesting in the area. "Alright... Thank you for the help," he told the man simply. He glanced in the direction of the tavern before deciding to not bother, darting off towards the back end of town instead.

Alfyn was moving so quickly that it was hard for the rest of his group to keep up with him, and Tressa had to practically run to fall into pace beside him. "What are you thinking now?" she asked. "Do you really think we're going to have to go back there if we want to figure out what's going on?"

"We might," Alfyn told her simply. "I'm not quite sure yet, but it wouldn't hurt for us to at least know a bit about what exactly goes on back there. There has to be something happening in that area, and if we can figure it out, then we're going to be better off."

Alfyn and the rest of the group arrived in the back part of town soon afterwards, and the apothecary once again took to glancing around the area. Talking to a few of the aristocrats who had bought medication from Vanessa seemed to be a nice place to try investigating next. Alfyn's eyes scrambled for anyone who might be considered useful to his cause, his stomach twisting into a knot along the way. He didn't want to believe that there was anything wrong with what Vanessa was doing. The facts were quickly being spelled out though, and he hated the picture that was being painted.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered seeing a dagger around her waist when they first spoke. It was hidden by her satchel at first, but it had been there. She knew how to fight, and once again, Alfyn felt sick to his stomach.

Damn it, Vanessa. You couldn't have...

Alfyn eventually saw a man who was walking through the back part of town, and he dashed off in the man's direction as quickly as he could. The aristocrat didn't seem to notice Alfyn at first, and the apothecary took that as his cue to get vocal. "Excuse me, sir!" he exclaimed. The man continued to ignore him, so Alfyn reached out and tapped him on the shoulder.

The aristocrat whirled around to face Alfyn with a glare on his face. "What do you want, runt?" he questioned angrily. "I don't recall giving you permission to speak to me."

"I'm sorry if I'm interrupting anything, but I have a few questions for you," Alfyn began to explain. "You were one of the people who bought an antidote from Vanessa Hysel, weren't you?"

The aristocrat stared for a long moment before crossing his arms. "Why are you asking?" he asked, his voice not wanting for malice in the slightest.

"I... I just have a few questions," Alfyn told him. "Do you happen to know anything about the medicine that she gave you? Would I be able to examine it?"

"How do I know that you're not going to take it and use it for yourself?" the aristocrat inquired carefully, his hand drifting to his pocket defensively. In other words, that was where the bottle was. 

"I'm not going to do that," Alfyn assured him, but he could already tell that the man was going to need a bit more convincing. He cleared his throat before pointing his head in the direction of the caves at the front of town. "Do you know anything about the cavern system not far from the entrance of the city?"

"They're called the Caves of Azure," the man replied cautiously, not at all trusting Alfyn given the sudden switch of subject. "Nobody with their head nailed on properly would even dare to get close to them. There are monsters that live back there, you know."

"Has anyone ever gone in?" Alfyn asked next.

"A few travelers have... I believe they came back with a strange type of moss," the aristocrat explained. "It glowed in the proper lighting, I believe. There were many other nobles who were scrambling to get their hands on it believing it to be impressive in some way, but I wouldn't dare to touch something as lowbrow as moss. It's utterly ridiculous."

"Moss that glows..." Alfyn murmured under his breath as he let one hand come up to cup at his chin. He reached into his bag and pulled out his book, flipping through the pages at breakneck speeds. Eventually, he stopped, landing on the perfect page. "That sounds like glowworm moss. It glows in the darkness because of where it's harvested in dark, wet caves."

"What do you want with something like that?" the aristocrat scoffed. "It sounds foolish to be infatuated with something like moss."

Alfyn's hand drifted down to the bottle that was being hidden in the man's pocket. "Can I examine the bottle for a moment?" he asked. "I'll only need it for a few moments, and after that, I'll give it right back. I promise."

The aristocrat glared at Alfyn for a long moment before sighing and reaching into his pocket to pull out the bottle. It was almost completely empty, but there were a few small drops left at the bottom. Alfyn held the bottle up to the light and squinted in an attempt to glean as much as he could from it. He proceeded to cup the small bottle between his hands, covering them in as much darkness as possible before peering between his fingers at the medication shrouded in shadows. 

Sure enough, there was a small glow that surrounded the moss when he peered at it just right, and he pulled his face away a moment later before uncorking the bottle and taking a quick whiff of the contents of the medication. That was all it took for everything to come into place. Glowworm moss was nowhere near as uncommon as Vanessa had made it sound; there seemed to be more than enough in the caves just off Goldshore, a place that only she seemed to know about because of the natural danger that came with it. 

"Thank you, sir," Alfyn told the man as he passed the bottle back to the aristocrat. The man stared at Alfyn in confusion for a moment before he started to walk away, leaving Alfyn to cup his chin with one hand. "Vanessa set out for the Caves of Azure to the east of town then... I guess we know where we should be going next."

Alfyn took another step forward, but he was cut off by what sounded like the rustling of fabric and metal jingling against metal. He knew that sound anywhere, and he turned to see Therion sliding his way out of the shadows, one hand on his knife. "Alfyn, you need to know that Vanessa--"

"I know," Alfyn cut in with a shake of his head. "I didn't want to believe it, but... She's done a lot more than any of us could have expected. She's in the Caves of Azure just outside town. We have to go and see what we can figure out."

Therion seemed surprised that Alfyn had figured out so much, but he simply nodded after hiding his shock. He fell in line with the rest of the travelers as they started to weave their way through the rest of Goldshore to get back to the outside of Goldshore. Alfyn tapped his foot impatiently when they had to wait a few moments for crowds to clear or to get a better shot to the front of town. Flynn wasn't going to be getting any better while he was busy waiting around, and nobody else was going to be improving if he was forced to stand there while Vanessa was out there lying and not caring about who she hurt.

Alfyn managed to find a lull in the crowds to dart through, and the rest of the group followed hot on his heels. Alfyn wasn't sure about how Therion had managed to figure out what Vanessa was up to, but he knew that he was going to have to ask later. For the time being, they had something much more important to take care of, and if Vanessa was given the chance to continue with her crimes any longer, there were going to be bodies hanging above her head.

Hang on just a little bit longer, Flynn... Everything is going to be okay. I promise.

~~~~~

As it turned out, the path leading to the Caves of Azure was just as dangerous as the man in town had claimed. There were rough crags everywhere, and at the center of it all, there was a small yet precarious path. Alfyn couldn't say for sure who or what had put it together, but he knew that Vanessa had been using it as of late to get what she needed from the caves. Once again, rage started to boil over inside of him, and he found himself wishing to reach for his axe to hit something just to get the edge off. Alfyn had never been a particularly violent person, but Vanessa was another story entirely. She was sickening, and he wanted her gone once and for all for the sake of all the people she had hurt without batting an eye.

"What do you think is going to happen when we find her?"

Alfyn glanced down at the sound of Tressa's voice, and he swallowed dryly. She was looking up at him with concern in her eyes. It seemed that she had figured everything out even though Alfyn hadn't explained it openly. As a matter of fact, he could feel the eyes of every other member of the group on him despite how much they tried to hide it. They all knew the truth, and they were all worried about both Vanessa and Alfyn.

It took Alfyn a long time to come up with a response, and he let out a sigh as he spoke. "I don't know," he replied honestly. "I just know that I'm not goin' to just let her get away with everything she's already done."

"She's been hurting the townspeople intentionally," Tressa muttered with a shake of her head. "I don't know how anyone can live with themselves after doing something like that. And... Nobody even noticed there was anything wrong..."

"She's a sick, twisted woman," Primrose chimed in from behind Tressa and Alfyn. "There are people out there who leech on the pain of others in order to boost themselves higher... Vanessa is one of many."

"Helgenish, Rufus, Vanessa... They're all the same," Therion murmured bitterly. "They put up appearances in order to make sure that nobody gets in the way of their plans, but the second the truth comes out... All bets are off."

"It's awful," Ophilia whispered as she gripped tightly at the Illumination Staff poised between her fingers. "I don't understand how Vanessa can behave this way either, but I think that it means that we have to stop her no matter what."

"How are we supposed to stop someone like that?" Tressa asked as she looked over to Alfyn once again. "She doesn't seem like the type to just stop hurting people because she's told to knock it off. If she knew that it was bad--which she must have in order to do all of this--then she would have stopped sooner if it was going to be that simple. That means that... We're going to have to find another way to make sure she stops."

Alfyn felt his hands shake when he looked down at them. The idea was something that Tressa was dancing around, but he knew what she was talking about. Tressa was asking if he was going to be able to do what must be done. There was no way of saying for sure what was going to happen next, but Alfyn could tell that it could easily make a turn for the worse and...

He could be pushed to kill Vanessa.

It wasn't as if he wanted to do that. Why would he look forward to taking the lives of others? Even when he was fighting against their past foes, he had never been the one to deliver the killing blows. H'aanit killing the ghisarma for its destructive nature and Primrose killing Rufus in the name of her revenge seemed like entirely different beasts than Alfyn having to kill someone he thought was a friend. Still, if it was the only way that he would be able to stop her from hurting the people of Goldshore, then...

Alfyn shook his head to try and get rid of the thought as soon as possible, but H'aanit realized what he was doing. "What will thou do?" she asked simply, not bothering to elaborate. Her words hung heavily as could be in the silence, and Alfyn found himself fumbling for a response. In the end, he fell short again and again, so he simply stopped himself from replying at all to ensure he didn't somehow make a fool of himself.

"Vanessa's actions are nothing short of monstrous," Olberic said to fill the quiet a few beats later. "I detest the idea of turning to such open violence as well, but if that's what must be done, then... So be it."

Alfyn couldn't tell if he wished that he could be so casual about having to kill her or if he thought it was awful that this was being considered at all. He knew that it had only come up because there were no other option that seemed apparent for the time being, but he wasn't going to let himself go that far so soon. He only wanted to have to kill someone if it was absolutely necessary, and as far as Alfyn could hope, he didn't want that to happen at all. The idea of the fated moment arriving so soon made him feel nauseous, and he wished that he could just make Vanessa stop this madness.

No, that wasn't going to be possible. She had already made her choice, and Alfyn was going to have to make sure that everything fell into place so that she wasn't able to hurt anyone ever again. Vanessa was disgusting, and he needed to look after the people she had sworn to protect but betrayed the second gold crossed her fingertips. He had a duty to help the people of Goldshore. It had only been a few hours since the group arrived in town, and Vanessa had already done so much damage to the people found within Goldshore's boundaries. Who could say how many more people she would hurt if she was given the chance to roam freely?

"Are you okay, Alfyn?" Tressa asked carefully. Her eyes were hiding anger, but she was choosing to shove it deep down to ensure that she didn't upset Alfyn by accident. After all, this was hitting him much harder, and she would be more than able to share his rage when he finally allowed his full anger to show. For the moment, the shock and grief still hadn't worn off, and she knew what she had to do as long as that was the case.

Alfyn stared down at his shaking fingers for a long moment before swallowing dryly and pressing his hands against the strap of his satchel. He gripped it with everything he had, knowing that he had to find some way to calm down before the battle arrived. They were going to have to fight Vanessa soon, and he had to be ready for it. The mere idea made his stomach churn, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to do what had to be done. Vanessa had sealed her own fate, and he was simply going to act as the arbiter of justice for the people she had hurt in the past.

"I will be," Alfyn finally replied. He knew that it was at least partially a lie, but he couldn't bring himself to tell the truth. The rest of the group was counting on him to take charge in their quest to stop Vanessa, and if he lost his composure, they would be in a world of trouble. No matter how hard it was, he had to keep himself together. He could let his emotions overwhelm him after all of this was over.

"After Vanessa is out of the picture once and for all."

Alfyn pretended to not hear how murderous that sounded and smiled to himself. After all, if he stopped smiling, what would the others think?

~~~~~

At the edge of the winding path inside the Caves of Azure, Vanessa overlooked the work of four men around her. They were all mercenaries she had hired a few towns back just in case anyone gave her trouble when it came to her work. One could never be sure when someone would do something unsavory these days, and Vanessa wasn't going to stand for it. She had a fortune to earn, and if anyone got in her way, then she would push them aside the best way she knew how.

Even when combat wasn't necessary, Vanessa was more than happy to have the help of her hired comrades for the sake of gathering as much glowworm moss as possible. She was planning on using this strategy to earn more money from the richer towns of the continent after leaving behind Goldshore, and that meant that she was going to need a lot more moss.

She had stumbled upon these sorts of strategies not long ago, and she knew that they worked wonders for her coin purse. Vanessa had always dreamed of getting all the money she could ever dream of before settling down somewhere that she could enjoy peace for the rest of her life, and she could tell that this was going to be the best way for her to pull it off. After all, what better way was there for her to find money than to use her skills as an apothecary to her advantage? Healers didn't get paid enough money as it was, and if she had to pull a few strings in order to reach a point that she was happy with, then so be it.

Vanessa smiled at the men scattered throughout the area before reaching into her satchel and pulling out a small phial. "Now to harvest myself some more glowworm moss. I can't keep my well-paying patients waiting," she murmured, letting one hand drift to where the many leaves she had gathered earlier in the day were waiting. It had only taken a few hours for her to spring her trap shut on the town of Goldshore after she laid out the groundwork, and it was already working wonders. A hundred thousand leaves would last her at least for another few towns, and that wasn't even counting all of the other paying customers who had lined her pockets so beautifully. Who would have thought that a bit of Gaborra evergreen would do so much to help her out?

It truly was impressive how gullible people were as long as they were faced with someone with a reputation. Nobody had even bothered to question her up to this point, and that made it even easier for her to do everything she could have ever dreamed while in Goldshore. The aristocrats let their desperation get the better of them and spent their leaves recklessly, and Vanessa was more than happy to accept the products of their fear. As soon as she was able to seem reputable to them, everything fell cleanly into place, and she knew that it was just a matter of time before it all came together now. The moss was free and plentiful in the Caves of Azure, and as long as she had some Gaborra evergreen on hand too, all she needed to do was claim rarity in the face of terrified patients. It was almost too good to be true, and yet, she knew it was a perfect plan. She had been using it for a short while now, after all, and it was working wonders. 

Vanessa approached one of the cave walls before filling the phial with moss. She scoffed at the sight before recapping the small bottle and tucking it away in her satchel. "To think this moss would bring me a king's ransom," she murmured. "Who'd have known this job could be so profitable?" She patted the side of her bag with a loose smile. All it took was a bit of lying for the funds to start streaming in, and all of a sudden, it seemed like nothing mattered aside from the leaves that were waiting to be spent on the most lavish of furnishings she could ever imagine.

Vanessa reached into her pocket to pull out a small bag containing leaves, and she began to sift through the coins just to feel the weight of wealth between her fingers. She never would have imagined that she would find herself in a place like this, and it was almost too good to be true. Soon enough, everything would come together, and that would be everything she needed. She was so close to everything she had ever wanted; she could almost feel it.

"Howdy, Vanessa. Fancy meeting you here."

Alfyn came walking out of the shadows a moment later. His expression was friendly and personable, but his eyes were dark and filled with rage. Vanessa's demeanor changed as soon as she saw him, and her previous quiet humility was thrown aside in favor of a haughty smirk and a scoff in his direction. "So you sniffed out my supply, huh? You're not as stupid as you look," she commented snidely. 

Alfyn's smile melted away as soon as Vanessa decided to not hold back or deny the truth of what she was doing. His grip went tight on the strap of his satchel. "That medicine you gave the townspeople for their fevers was brewed from Gaborra evergreen, wasn't it?" he asked her, his voice quiet and unsettling with the promise of an upcoming explosion.

Vanessa didn't respond, and the seven other travelers in the group looked to Alfyn, uncertain as to how he was going to reply. Alfyn's rage was starting to boil over, and he clenched his hands into fists. "That was your plan all along: to induce the side effects so you could sell the remedy at a premium," he went on. 

Vanessa pulled herself back so her hands were propped on her hips. "Heh... You catch on quick," she commented dryly. "I travel the land, selling my potions and salves for more leaves than you'll see in a lifetime. What do layfolk know of illnesses and their cures? Nothing--that's what makes this job so easy." She took a few steps forward before jabbing her finger into Alfyn's chest. He didn't flinch backwards, instead only glaring down at her with quiet enmity that seeped into every muscle of his body. "If it weren't for rival apothecaries like you."

"What happened to your 'sworn duty to ease suffering'?" Alfyn questioned, his eyes narrowing in her direction. His voice was restrained from full rage, but it was clear that the rope keeping him held together was short and shrinking quickly. 

"Here's some advice, little puppy: don't trust anything you can get for free," Vanessa told him, her voice dripping with the same venom she had fed to the townsfolk in the name of her own greed. Everything about her previously friendly features had twisted to something dark and unrecognizable. She was more than willing to tear down anyone she had to in order to reach the greatness she decided was destined to be hers, and Goldshore was just one town of many she had wreaked this havoc in. Her apathy knew no bounds, and it made Alfyn feel sick to his stomach.

Vanessa shrugged as she looked to him with a nauseating smile. "A stately mansion, lavish dresses, fine wine... Why shouldn't everything I want be mine?" she asked, her tone making it clear that she wouldn't be hearing any of his protests regardless of how he attempted to persuade her otherwise.

Alfyn allowed his arms to come by his side, and he looked at Vanessa with such unsettling calmness in his posture that it was terrifying to see. Tressa took a small step back in silent shock at Alfyn and rage towards Vanessa as he began to speak. "You're free to have what you want--but I won't let you deceive the weak and vulnerable to get it," he said softly, his voice on the verge of completely snapping at a moment's notice. "Using your knowledge to inflict pain for profit? You're a disgrace to our profession." He took a step towards her, his exhaustion with her antics starting to boil over once more. "Doesn't it make you feel anything to see people suffer?"

"Should it? The ailing, the injured... They're tools to an end. Just like the little kittens I test my tonics on," Vanessa told him, not at all caring about his outburst. Given the fact that she had referred to him as a puppy previously, Alfyn concluded that the 'kittens' in question were instead simply people she deemed worthy of being her test subjects. She didn't need permission from them to do as she so chose as long as she kept up that mask of hers; she could get away with anything, and she had learned that long ago. She crossed her arms as she went on, her eyes so perfectly passive that it made Alfyn want to shatter her like a piece of china. "What else are they good for? They bring me leaves by the bucket, and when they've outlived their usefulness... They die." 

Much to Alfyn's surprise, Vanessa started to laugh the second she noticed his shocked and ghastly expression. "Do you cry when you toss away a broken flask? Then why should I?" she inquired around her sickening laughter. 

Alfyn shook his head, barely keeping himself held together under the weight of her cruelty. "Unfortunately for you, there's no cure for a rotten heart," he muttered intensely. His voice echoed softly in the darkness of the cave, but he didn't seem to notice at all. 

Vanessa crossed her arms and looked at him with a frown. "So you don't care for my philosophy," she concluded simply. "Perhaps you'd care to die instead then... After all, I would say that you've more than outlived your usefulness to me."

A moment later, the mercenaries scattered throughout the cave came rushing in around Vanessa, forming a ring around Alfyn and his companions. Hands reached for weapons carefully, but nobody dared to strike quite yet, waiting instead for Vanessa to give the command. "My ample wealth has allowed me to secure... Good insurance," she went on. "You're a threat to my business, and you don't seem like the type to go home quietly." She glanced over to the rest of the travelers at that, nodding at the hands that rested on the hilts of their blades. "Or the type to keep your mouths shut even if you did."

Alfyn nodded as he reached for his own axe. He primed it in her direction with pure rage painted on his face. "You're gods damned right I won't!" he roared at her. "On the contrary, I'm gonna brew a remedy and help those people. Not for profit, but because easing people's suffering is what I do."

Vanessa scoffed at him before reaching for her knife. "How noble... But here's my diagnosis..." She pointed her dagger at him as the mercenaries around her all unsheathed their blades at once. "That shabby sense of justice will prove fatal!"

Chapter Text

Vanessa's first strike of choice after the battle began was to rush at Alfyn, who threw up his axe as she slashed with the dagger she had concealed so gracefully up to that point. The blades clashed fiercely against one another before Alfyn was finally able to push her backwards, and Vanessa stumbled away before regaining her balance with a gentle slide. "Is all of this worth it to you?!" Alfyn shouted at her. "Is this really what you wanted?!"

"I had been hoping that you would stay in your lane and out of my business, but I suppose I should have known better. You're as pesky as a fly," Vanessa told him with a scowl blended with a smirk smashed across her features haphazardly. She started to reach for the ingredients of her pouch, but Alfyn didn't give her the chance to do anything, instead cutting with his axe at her once again.

Alfyn was able to get in a single hit on Vanessa, but she was quick to keep him from doing any further damage. She snapped her fingers, and one of the sellswords who had previously been engaged in battle with Tressa and Therion rushed to her aid. The man blocked Alfyn's next attack before kicking him backwards, and it took much more effort than Alfyn would have liked to keep his grip on his weapon intact. He let out a wheeze of a breath before managing to regain his composure, and he realized that there was nothing he was going to be able to do to stop her from finishing whatever it was that she was doing at the back of the group.

Well, two could play at that game.

"Phili, cover me!" Alfyn cried out as he retreated to the back of the group. He had heard about ingredients in the apothecary trade being used for dealing damage in the past, and if Vanessa knew how to do it, then he was going to have to at least try it in order to keep her from doing anything too severe. She had done more than enough damage as it was, and he couldn't let her get away with this again.

Ophilia was more than happy to follow his commands, and she came to stand in front of him as one of the mercenaries slashed at her. She ducked beneath the attack before sending out a blast of light magic that knocked him off course. It took him longer than he would have liked for him to correct himself, and Ophilia could already tell that she had hit the jackpot. As long as these fighters all used the same fundamental ideas in their combat, then she was going to be able to hit all of the mercenaries with light magic and likely catch them off guard.

The mercenary that Ophilia had hit was quickly struck a moment later with an arrow from H'aanit, and Linde and Hägen were swift in their convergence on one of the other men. Olberic concentrated his attention on the third of the men, and he was able to push the mercenary backwards with a slash from his sword. Cyrus followed up with a block of ice that froze the man in place, leaving him unable to move.

Alfyn was on the verge of figuring out what he was supposed to be doing when Vanessa finally showed her face once again from behind the mercenary that had been guarding her. Alfyn looked up at the last minute to catch what she was going to do just before the explosion rocked the cave. It was some type of fire magic mixed with explosive substances, if he had to guess, but this wasn't exactly the time for him to think too hard about it as all of his plans of concocting a countermeasure were blown to bits along with his concentration.

Tressa and Therion had been unlucky enough to be closest when the blast hit, and Tressa let out a cry of pain as she was sent flying backwards. Her spine slammed into the side of the cave as her head cracked against the crystals lining the area, and she was on the ground a moment later. Alfyn swore at the sight, but he wasn't exactly in much of a position to do anything about it. The explosion had hit all of them even if Tressa and Therion had been most impacted by it.

Vanessa scoffed as she shook her head before reaching for her dagger once again. She slashed at Primrose, though the dancer was more than able to dodge below the strike that threatened to open a rift in her abdomen. "I gave you the chance to leave, but you refused. If you had been smarter about this, then perhaps it wouldn't have ended this way for you," Vanessa said simply.

Primrose kicked at Vanessa's feet, and the apothecary was sent to the ground, though she rolled up into a crouch soon afterwards. Alfyn couldn't help but wonder if perhaps she had been forced through this song and dance in the past too. She wasn't hesitating at all to lash out at the group, and if she had truly been doing this in other towns, then chances were high that she had been forced to lash out at others who were able to find the truth as well. Alfyn's stomach churned at the thought, and he wondered just how many people Vanessa had sacrificed on the altar of her endless ambitions.

Ophilia was at Tressa's side as the merchant slowly but surely tried to push herself back to her feet using the Tempest Spear. Ophilia raised the Illumination Staff, and light washed through the area before healing all of the minor burns that had been left behind by the explosion. With his strength returned, Therion got to his feet and started to run at one of the mercenaries. The man was able to dodge the first attack that Therion had planned, but he overcompensated when attempting to lash out at the thief. All it took was a quick slide and roll across the cave's floor for Therion to end up behind him, and he slashed up the man's spine with enough force to pierce the man's armor. He let out a cry of pain before falling to the ground.

Cyrus was more than ready to follow up on that, and he flicked his wrist to create a massive barrage of icicles that kept the man pinned in place. He wasn't losing much blood, but he was still out cold, meaning he wasn't going to be interfering with the fight from then on. Cyrus moved the ice so that it was pressed firmly against the outside wall of the cave, putting as much distance between Vanessa and the mercenary as possible.

It was easy enough for Alfyn to figure out what Cyrus was trying to do. Vanessa didn't seem to know any healing magic, instead having made her trade in being an apothecary. In other words, she was going to need to get close to her allies in order to heal them, and she would be able to supply them with endless recovery as long as they had the energy to keep fighting. The strategy that was going to win this fight was going to involve separating Vanessa from her allies and keeping her focused enough on the battle that she was unable to heal them.

Of course, that was much easier said than done given just how slippery Vanessa was. She was easily able to duck beneath a slice from Olberic, and she danced backwards effortlessly when H'aanit attempted to use her axe against Vanessa in melee quarters. Vanessa, much to Alfyn's surprise, didn't seem to care at all that one of her men had been wounded and taken out of the fight. After all, she had seemed so confident that she would be able to win as long as she had help on her side.

She doesn't care about them at all, does she? She doesn't care about anyone but herself.

Another mercenary swerved around a blast of dark magic from Primrose before preparing to slash at Ophilia. She threw up the Illumination Staff to block the strike before letting out a quick blast of magic that knocked the man backwards. He stumbled for a few feet before Cyrus swept in once again, utilizing his tome to create a wall of ice magic that kept the man far from Ophilia. The mercenary attempted to find a way to swerve around the wall, but he was quickly struck in the shoulder with an arrow from H'aanit. That was enough to keep him from getting any closer than he already had, and Tressa was quick to follow up on that with a flick of her hand and a blast of wind magic that forced the man backwards while simultaneously shredding the ice wall to push him backwards even farther.

It was while the man was struggling with finding his balance that Alfyn released a quick attack of ice magic as well, once again trapping the mercenary in place. He sighed with relief before looking over and realizing that Vanessa was continuing to work on a concoction of some sort. Given the fact that the last creation of hers had ended with a massive explosion, Alfyn knew that he had to find some way to stop her.

Before Alfyn had the chance to try, he saw Vanessa moving closer to Cyrus, taking full advantage of her speed. It was difficult to say for sure what happened afterwards, but Cyrus let out a cry of pain before falling to one knee and reaching for his arm with one hand. His expression was dark and filled with agony, and Alfyn realized that Vanessa had likely made something that was meant to keep him out of the battle for as long as possible.

Alfyn darted in Cyrus' direction, and he immediately got to work on curing Cyrus. It didn't take long for him to figure out that it was a minor poison of some kind, something that would take full effect within the next few hours. Alfyn growled at the sight, wondering just how far Vanessa was willing to take this even though he already knew the answer all too well. Luckily, it wasn't too difficult for him to make a remedy for Vanessa's poison, and Cyrus let out a sigh as soon as the medicine was in his system. He still seemed somewhat drained from the strike, but it was something that Alfyn was considering a victory regardless. After all, being drained but conscious was better than being knocked out of the battle entirely under such dangerous circumstances.

Alfyn looked up just in time to see that Therion and Olberic had managed to pin one of the two remaining mercenaries against the wall. Olberic stabbed at the man from the front while Therion slithered behind the mercenary before lashing out for himself. That was enough to leave the man unable to do much more to fight back, and Alfyn watched as the mercenary started to crumble.

"Watch out!" Alfyn cried out to Olberic and Therion. The warrior and thief were quick to get out of the way as Alfyn took full advantage of the ice magic that Alephan had taught him so well. Alfyn had experience with ice magic before that, and it meant that the blast that he released a moment later was even more effortless than it would have been for the others. Either way, it was more than enough to pin the mercenary in place, leaving him thrashing and struggling to escape. He ultimately fell slack when he gave up on escaping the grasp of the ice a few moments later, though Alfyn could see that there was still rage and determination manifesting in his gaze.

Alfyn realized a few moments later that Therion had accidentally rolled into Vanessa's line of attack, and he let out a strangled cry in an attempt to get Therion's attention, not that it worked the way that he would have liked. All that really accomplished was prompting Therion to look up at him like he was out of his mind, and from there, Vanessa was easily able to shove something against Therion's face, and the thief's eyes went wide as he tried to fight his way out of her grasp.

It didn't take long for Therion to escape, but he seemed tired compared to how sharp his fighting skills had been before. This time, it wasn't a poison that Vanessa had tried to use; instead, it was some type of sedative that would keep Therion out of the fight if all had gone according to plan. Unfortunately for Vanessa, she had been just a bit too slow to take care of the job in full. She snarled before starting to try and concoct something else that could have gotten rid of at least one of the travelers in terms of the rest of the battle.

Luckily, Therion was able to see what she was doing, and he slid in her direction with his dagger outstretched. He slashed at the strap of the bag hanging over her shoulder, causing it to fall to the floor. Thanks to all of the ice that had built up throughout the cave, the ground was slippery enough for the bag to slip away. Therion followed the bag with much more control over his actions before he picked it up and tossed it in Tressa's direction after swiftly sealing the top of it shut. 

Tressa caught it by throwing out the edge of the Tempest Spear to stab into part of the weakened strap. Her accuracy was perfect, and she pulled the bag free of the lance a moment later before dropping it behind her feet. Without her bag, Vanessa wouldn't be able to concoct anything else, and that meant that she was left at the mercy of the party unless she was able to work miracles with her knife.

There was one mercenary remaining, and Vanessa was practically fuming with rage when she pointed to the bag with her free hand. "What the hell are you doing standing around?! Get it!" she screamed in anger. The mercenary was quick to nod and attempt to slide across the ice to reclaim the fallen bag of ingredients, but he was knocked off course by a quick team attack from Linde and Hägen, forcing him to hit the wall a few moments later. The sound of his head making contact with the cave was enough to make Alfyn wince, and something in the back of his mind told him that the man most certainly had a concussion. 

The mercenary attempted to get to his feet regardless, pushing carefully away from the ground with one hand while he nursed his injury with the other. He was unable to fight off his dizziness though, and that left him as a perfect target for an admittedly incredibly exhausted Cyrus to flick an ice spell in his direction and trap him in place. The man gave up on remaining conscious soon afterwards, and he slumped over in sleep a few moments later.

That left only Vanessa on the battlefield, and Alfyn turned to face her with a glare clear as could be in his darkened eyes. "I hope this is what you were wanting from this battle," he snarled to her. "You were the one who started this fight the instant you raised your hand against innocent people." His grip on his axe grew tighter as he tried to channel as much of his rage out through his fingertips, but he wasn't able to fully calm the tempest inside of him no matter how hard he tried. He didn't think he would ever come close; as long as Vanessa was still hurting people, she was a monster deserving of all the punishment he was about to rain down on her.

Vanessa scoffed and shook her head. "What are you hoping to accomplish with all of this?" she asked. "Do you really think that this is going to be as easy as you're hoping? You keep going on about how I'm the one in the wrong here, but I don't think you understand what you want to do with your life at all. I'm going to be living comfortably forever, and you'll be the same poor apothecary as ever whether it be now or five years from now. You're not doing anything of value with your life, and maybe you'll understand just how idealistic and foolish you're being when this career of yours falls through and leaves you with nothing else in this world."

Alfyn was unable to hold his rage back at this point, but luckily for him, he didn't have to deal with Vanessa despite his anger. A blast of dark magic hit her from behind, and it was followed up soon after by a fiery sphere of energy. Vanessa was forced to slide forward along the ice of the cave's floor from the force of the attacks, leaving her in the perfect position for Alfyn to slash at her with his axe, finally unveiling all of the fury that had started building inside of him the moment he realized just how cruel and twisted she truly was. 

Vanessa was left to collapse to her knees at the sudden hit, her dagger sliding away from her. With her satchel and knife gone, she was left defenseless, and Alfyn pointed his axe at her to make sure she didn't try anything. Tressa was more than happy to pick up the knife, examining it before sheathing it a few moments later as a sign of pride from having won the battle. Once she had put the dagger away, she started walking towards Vanessa, and the other members of the group were quick to follow, completely cornering Vanessa in a matter of seconds.

The trapped woman glanced around the cave at the mercenaries that had been knocked unconscious and pinned down by the ice, her hands shaking from some untold combination of exertion and rage. "Damn it all! I paid good coin for them..." she muttered.

"The game's up. I'll be taking this moss now," Alfyn told her, walking over to the edge of the cave where a few bottles of the moss could be found. The phials held the moss that Vanessa and her men had collected prior to Alfyn's arrival, and it had already been primed perfectly for his usage in the name of the rest of Goldshore. The other companions of Alfyn's remained firm around Vanessa to make sure she didn't lash out in light of her defeat.

Alfyn glanced back over to Vanessa and saw that she still had a bit of fight in her eyes. He had hoped that he wouldn't have to do this, but it seemed as if the only way to make sure she stayed out of trouble was to push her a little bit. Even with her satchel stolen and her dagger gone, there was still some desire deep within her to keep pushing back. Alfyn wasn't going to let her get away with anything else on his watch though, so he crossed his arms after tucking the phials of moss away in his bag. "And I've alerted the guards. You'll turn yourself in if you know what's good for you," he bluffed. He would be able to tell them about the situation soon, he was sure. The only reason he hadn't done it before was because he was too emotionally charged after learning the truth to sit still, much less think through his next steps rationally. He would take care of it as soon as they got back to Goldshore though. He had to.

"Alright, you've got me. I repent, I repent..." Vanessa muttered as she stared down at the ground. Alfyn turned away from her, and the rest of the travelers followed his actions with their gazes. Vanessa, meanwhile, started to move backwards carefully across the cave's floor, almost as if she was trying to reach something.

Alfyn turned around before she could make much progress, his arms crossed. He should have known it wasn't going to be that easy. Vanessa wasn't sorry about what she had done at all; she was just upset that she got caught. "Sussed out your escape route already?" Alfyn questioned of her with a bitter frown on his face. Vanessa gasped sharply, and Alfyn frowned. "I'm not as naive as I look."

Alfyn reached into his satchel before drawing closer to her with his item of choice pressed firmly in one hand. "In fact, I brought a special treat just for you."

Vanessa's eyes flashed with panic immediately. "W-Wait, that's--!"

"I had a feeling you'd recognize it," Alfyn cut in with a good natured chuckle on his lips. "Slumberthorn--the most powerful sleep-inducing substance in the realm. One prick, and the next thing you know, you'll be waking up on a dungeon floor."

Vanessa didn't even have the chance to gasp before Alfyn gently touched her arm with the thorn. She stared up at him in shock as he went on. Alfyn crossed his arms and glared down at her with all the vitriol left behind after their previous encounter. "Maybe one day, you can start over as a real apothecary--if they ever let you out."

"Y-You'll pay for this..." Vanessa cursed softly, her rage dying away in favor of the exhaustion quickly mounting in her eyes. "You stupid... Naive..." That was all she was able to get out before her body gave out from beneath her, and a few seconds later, she was sound asleep on the floor of the cave, her breathing evening out. It was impressive how quickly the slumberthorn had taken effect, though it was just as odd to see her sound asleep at the center of a cave filled to the brim with signs of combat.

Therion approached Vanessa carefully, nudging at her with his foot. He watched to make sure that she truly was asleep before glancing up to Alfyn. He nodded gently in confirmation, and the rest of the travelers allowed their eyes to travel in the apothecary's direction, eagerly awaiting his next words.

Alfyn sighed before nodding, seemingly only halfway acknowledging the people watching him. "That'll keep her quiet until the guards come. For now, I'll just help myself to some more of this moss," he announced, reaching into his bag and retrieving a few more phials before moving to the edge of the cave. It was a precarious situation given all of the ice scattered through the area, but he was able to fill up a few more bottles before sighing and tucking them away in his bag. "That'll do 'er. Hold tight, Flynn--I'm on my way!"

~~~~~

Going back to the main part of town was a dizzying experience for Alfyn, and he barely processed anything his body was doing.  He just knew that he had to help Flynn as soon as possible before reaching out to the other people in town. Flynn was so small and young that curing her had to be his first priority to make sure that she survived. The other people in town had higher chances of pulling through, but Flynn... Alfyn hadn't been this worried for someone in a long time.

Telling the Goldshore guards wasn't as difficult as part of Alfyn had been fearing it would be, and it seemed like the truth all came streaming out before he had the chance to stop himself from explaining it. In the end, the guards ran off in the direction of the Caves of Azure to reclaim Vanessa, though they had been somewhat uncertain at first given how Alfyn hadn't done any apothecary work in town quite yet. At the very least, he was able to convince them eventually, and that meant everything was going to be fine... For now, anyways.

"What do you intend to do about that woman?"

Therion's voice came from somewhere off to Alfyn's right, and he glanced up to see the thief walking up to him nearby. It took Alfyn a moment to respond, but when he did, the answer was simple. After all, he hadn't really thought about what he was going to do with Vanessa after managing to get rid of her. "Vanessa? I reckon I'll let her stew in gaol and ponder all she's done," Alfyn said simply.

"Gaol or no, she doesn't strike me as the type to suddenly turn introspective..." Therion muttered. He seemed to have the same fears that Alfyn did, though he didn't phrase them openly. Therion was just as afraid of the idea of having to kill Vanessa as Alfyn was. Even if it seemed as if they were in the clear on that front now, the paranoia yet remained, impossible to escape after all they had fought through to reach this point.

Alfyn did his best to keep it from getting to him, instead simply shrugging to himself and looking at the path ahead. "Maybe, maybe not. But I figure she's tossin' and turnin' somethin' fierce right about now," he told Therion simply.

"What do you mean?" Therion asked slowly, almost as if he was afraid of the answer he was going to receive.

"See, slumberthorn has other effects, albeit less well known. It can prick a person's conscience, for example," Alfyn began to say. "If there's somethin' in your heart you'd rather avoid, it'll come out in your sleep instead..."

"As a nightmare," Therion finished as realization finally started to dawn on him.

Alfyn nodded. "That's right. How she'll deal with it when she wakes up is up to her... But I warrant she's having second thoughts about what she did," he said, unwilling to face the possibility of what would happen if she didn't regret what she had done. It was too soon for that, and it was the last thing Alfyn wanted to think about right then.

Therion seemed significantly less certain, and he looked down at the ground. Part of him almost seemed tempted to sink into his scarf and never come back out again. "Well, I hope so," Therion muttered.

Alfyn stared at Therion for a long time, trying to figure out what the thief was getting at, but he couldn't seem to come close to the truth quite yet. He had been hoping that they were making progress in getting Therion to open up, but it seemed as if his harsh words back in Bolderfall had brought every wall back up in the blink of an eye. Recovery wasn't easy, and Alfyn had come to understand this all too well, but he still disliked how easy it was for Therion to slip right back into old habits despite clearly not wanting that.

But Alfyn didn't say any of this, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that it wasn't going to be productive. "Why? For my sake?" he asked instead, knowing that he was going to have to probe at Therion's mind later on regardless. After all, Therion's actions had been strange ever since they arrived in Goldshore, and it was bound to be just a matter of time before everything came out for better or worse.

Therion didn't seem to want to acknowledge this possibility though, instead simply looking away from Alfyn and training his eyes on the cobblestones below. "Just be careful, alright?" he said bluntly. With that, he started walking away a bit faster than before, and he seemingly vanished into the crowd of Goldshore a few moments later.

Alfyn sighed at Therion's retreating back, wishing that there was more he could do to coax the thief out of his shell. It was amazing that he had made so much progress as it was, but he knew that it wasn't going to be that simple. There was always going to be something else holding Therion back until they were able to get to the root of the problem, and it seemed like figuring out what the issue itself was wouldn't be happening for quite some time. Primrose was at least starting to open up to the rest of the group, but Therion... There was always something holding him back, and Alfyn just wanted to understand why.

He did his best to shake it off though; this wasn't the time to get distracted. He had all the moss he could ever need, and if he just so happened to require more later on, then he would be able to drop by the Caves of Azure before they left town. It was wild to him that all of this had taken place in a single day, though he was glad that they were planning on staying overnight in Goldshore still. It would certainly give Alfyn all the time he needed to cure all of the people who had been poisoned by Vanessa, and he could use the rest as well.

Flynn was going to be his first patient, and after that, Alfyn would figure something out. He got the feeling that Vanessa wasn't going to be keeping the gold that she had at her disposal, assuming there was any even left on her. After all, Tressa had taken her bag, and that meant that most of Vanessa's leaves were in perfect hands to be refunded to the customers that she had swindled. They might not have been able to fix the misdeeds of Vanessa's past, but they could at least do something for the people of Goldshore, and that had to be enough for now.

There was a time-worn exhaustion starting to seep into Alfyn's bones, and all he wanted to do was sleep for a week. Still, he had to find Flynn first and foremost and cure her. Vanessa had failed this town, so it was up to Alfyn to save the people who had been hurt. It wasn't going to be easy, but the work of a true apothecary never was.

Chapter Text

"Well? How are you feeling now?"

It hadn't taken long after turning in Vanessa for Alfyn to settle down in the home shared by Marlene and her two daughters, and as soon as he was there, he got to work. It only took a few minutes for him to whip up a remedy for the cough that was plaguing Flynn so, and her coughs echoed in his mind as he finished off the concoction. Alfyn had held it up to eye level with a smile once he was done, knowing that this was the way things should have been done in the first place. Vanessa had made a mistake by lying about everything, but he was going to make it right. Her supposedly expensive foreign tincture was simple enough that Alfyn could have made it in his sleep. It showed just how much she was worth when it came to her lie of a creed as an apothecary.

After Alfyn dripped the concoction down Flynn's throat, the girl's coughs immediately started to slow, becoming much more spaced out as her body got used to the foreign ingredients. Flynn waited for a few breathless seconds after the concoction was gone, almost like she expected herself to start coughing again. When she realized that she was in the clear, she nodded up at Alfyn gently. "Better," Flynn murmured simply. 

"Her cough... It's gone!" Marlene exclaimed in shock. Her hands were pressed over her mouth as she tried to hide her surprise, though she was admittedly doing a poor job of it.

Flynn let her fingers come up to rub at her neck, and she looked up at her mother with more energy than Alfyn had seen her with all day. "And my throat... It doesn't hurt anymore," Flynn told her mother softly. 

Alfyn laughed from pure relief at those words as he rose to his feet. He had known that it was going to work, but it was still nice to know that Flynn truly was feeling better given the absolute wreck that the earlier stages of the day had been. The other travelers in the group were standing near the far wall, and Alfyn saw the way all of their shoulders went slack from gratitude that Alfyn had managed to cure Flynn despite everything they had been through.

Alfyn didn't let himself say anything about how concerned he had been for a while though, instead simply putting the empty phial of the tincture back in his bag. "Good to hear it!" he announced, beaming all the way. 

"You saved my daughter's life... How can I even begin to repay you?" Marlene asked, tears starting to well up in her eyes as she looked up to Alfyn. She didn't seem to want to let herself cry as long as her daughters were watching her so intently, but she was on the verge of completely falling apart. Alfyn could see it clear as could be in her eyes. 

"It's on the house. The moss didn't cost me anything, after all," Alfyn told her with a loose shrug. Even if it had taken a bit of gold to get his hands on the ingredients, he knew that he wouldn't have had the heart to charge them either. Alfyn had been saved at one point long ago by an apothecary who didn't ask for payment for all that he had done. Even if Vanessa didn't mean it when she said that she wanted to ease the suffering of others, Alfyn most certainly did, and he wasn't going to let anybody forget it. 

Marlene didn't seem to know what to say, and Alfyn figured that she was looking for a bit of alone time with her daughters. He picked up the last of his ingredients from off the counter where he had been working before starting to clean everything off with a rag from his satchel. Marlene came up behind him and placed her fingers on his shoulder. The action was light as a feather, but Alfyn still felt all of the weight of relief that had found itself a home inside of her body over the last few moments. "How could I have been so wrong?" Marlene whispered, her voice barely audible despite the silence. "You were the true apothecary... Pray forgive my rudeness earlier, good sir."

Alfyn paused for a long moment before shaking his head and dropping the rest of his things away into his bag. He turned to face Marlene with a small smile on his face. "No skin off my nose. Your girl's healthy again--that's all that matters to me," he assured her. 

"Thank you, Alfyn."

The apothecary almost jumped from surprise when he heard Flynn's voice from nearby. She sounded stronger than she had all day, and she was sitting up in bed as she looked over to him with bright eyes and a gentle smile. She looked on top of the world, and given how sickly she had been just a few short minutes ago, Alfyn couldn't help but smile at that. This was why he followed his dream of becoming an apothecary. Moments like these meant everything to him.

Flynn started to swing her feet over the side of the bed, and Ellen was quick to help her onto the ground. Flynn was practically bouncing on the spot from excitement as she looked between her sister and Alfyn. "Finally, I can go gather seashells with Ellen again!" Flynn exclaimed happily. 

"Go have all the fun you want," Alfyn told her with a smile so gentle that he could barely even believe it. Despite all of the rage that was burning inside of him because of Vanessa's actions, he was going to be okay. All of them were going to be alright regardless of everything that Vanessa had done to try and rip this apart. 

But he couldn't stay here forever. After all, they weren't the only ones Vanessa hurt.

Alfyn sighed as he glanced towards the door, wishing that he could have relished in this moment forever. However, the other consequences of Vanessa's actions were waiting for him, and he wouldn't be able to escape them forever. "And with that, I'd best be off. There are other people out there who need this medicine." He looked to Ellen and Flynn before closing his eyes thoughtfully. "And once I've done my job, and everyone in Goldshore is hale and hearty..." He looked to the door with a bittersweet smile on his face. "It'll be time to hit the road again."

On one side of Alfyn, the other members of his group stood, and Alfyn noticed the way that H'aanit went tense in particular. The next town on their list was Stonegard, and they would be leaving the following morning if everything went according to plan. In other words, they were getting closer to finding out the truth behind Z'aanta's disappearance, and judging by the way that the huntress was refusing to meet anyone else's gaze, Alfyn could tell that it had snuck up on her the same way it had caught him off guard. As much as Alfyn would have liked to stay there and collect seashells with Ellen and Flynn forever, there was other work he had to do elsewhere in the world, and helping H'aanit was just the tip of the iceberg.

On Alfyn's other side, Ellen's eyes went wide with shock and betrayal. In all of her childhood whimsy and innocence, she had never realized that there was the possibility Alfyn wouldn't be in Goldshore forever. She looked over to the other travelers before her gaze fell on Alfyn, and she seemed to be silently pleading with him to stay. Both Ellen and H'aanit watched Alfyn's every action carefully, trying to gauge what it was that he was going to be doing next amidst the silence.

Alfyn gave the family a wave over one shoulder before walking out of the building simply. "Till we meet again." 

The rest of the travelers were quick to follow him, leaving the small home holding only the people who lived there. Marlene pressed her hands together as she looked down at the ground in such overwhelming relief that it seemed as if she was almost ready to collapse onto the floor then and there. "Oh, thank you... Thank you ever so, so much..."

~~~~~

The travelers ultimately opted to split up for a short while after their time in Marlene's home had drawn to a close. The day was starting to slip away, albeit much faster than they would have liked. What they had been hoping would be a relaxing day in a seaside town had turned into a disaster that dampened all of their spirits in a matter of hours, and it was high time that they took this as a chance to decompress and eat something.

Alfyn decided to wander off to the back part of town, and he looked up at the cathedral that towered so effortlessly over the rest of Goldshore. His expression was solemn and unreadable, and truth be told, he had no idea what he was supposed to think of all this. Now that he was away from the rest of the group, he could finally let his true emotions show, and the fact of the matter was that he didn't know what to do. He didn't know why it was that Vanessa had shaken him so much, but he couldn't seem to get her out of his head no matter how hard he tried. She didn't deserve the time of day, but at the same time, she couldn't get away from his thoughts for long.

Vanessa was right in saying that most apothecaries were poor, and Alfyn wasn't going to deny that. Still, that didn't mean it was at all okay to hurt others in the name of a profit. Vanessa had allowed her selfish ambitions to get the better of her, forgetting what it truly meant to be a healer in the first place. Alfyn had to wonder if she even knew at all what it was supposed to feel like to help people. She hadn't hesitated to cast aside her humanity for the sake of her own greed after all, and that made it seem like she truly didn't know what it meant to ease the pain of others. Everyone was simply a pawn for the sake of her own selfishness, and she didn't care who lived, died, or suffered as long as she was able to fill her coin purse with all the leaves she could have ever asked for.

Alfyn knew that he was never going to be like her. Well... He hoped not, at the very least. He knew that he wasn't ever going to give himself up without a fight when it came to such cruelty, but at the same time, brushing so close with someone so awful left him wondering if perhaps it was easier than he had thought originally to lose control of one's heart. Vanessa had let her ambitions control her, and Alfyn never wanted to find himself in a similar position. He was exhausted just thinking about her, and he wanted nothing more than for her to be out of his life once and for all.

Even if she had been arrested, he was still thinking about her though. Vanessa remained an issue to him, and Alfyn somehow doubted that he was going to be able to get away from her easily. How could he? She would always find a way to slip in just under his skin. She was so cruel and despicable, and Alfyn knew that there were others out there who were like her. This potentially wouldn't be the first time that he had to fight against someone who thought so little of human life, and that was enough to make Alfyn sick to his stomach.

Alfyn was a healer. He had known that he was going to become an apothecary for much of his young life, and yet, he had been thrown into turmoil and disarray so quickly after meeting someone who challenged every ideal he had ever stood for. Vanessa was a disgusting woman, and if the situation had gotten any worse, he could have had to kill her. In the end, Alfyn was able to remain pacifistic, but he didn't know if he was going to be that lucky again. Primrose hadn't been able to get away from the truth of her situation, and she had taken Rufus' life when they were in Stillsnow. Before that, she had killed Helgenish as well. Both of them had been truly twisted and despicable men who used their power to harm those beneath them for the sake of fueling their own egos, and anyone who dared to step out of line was met with their gnarled sense of vengeance in the name of personal satisfaction.

Alfyn didn't think he would ever have the strength to take the life of another. How could he? His job was to save those who were sick and hurting, and he knew that he had a duty to the people around him to make sure that they were safe. That was his job. It always had been.

But what if he had to raise a weapon against someone one day? What would he do then?

Alfyn's hands were shaking as he looked down to his satchel. What would Zeph do if he was in this situation? What would the man who had inspired him so many years ago do? What would the gods do? Where was the line between life and death when it came to the despicable acts of others? Should he have killed Vanessa and made sure that she never had the chance to hurt anyone ever again? Was he right to let her live because murder was against everything that he had ever stood for?

Alfyn couldn't bring himself to smile as he shifted his attention back to the spires of the Goldshore cathedral. There was nothing to smile about. There was so much wrong, and he felt sick about all of it. He couldn't let anybody else see it though; the rest of the group was counting on him to be dependable when they were struggling. Therion and Primrose were having hard enough times as it was, and Alfyn couldn't just leave them to their own devices while focusing on his problems that seemed insignificant by comparison. Everyone else was having a hard time too, and he had still let Vanessa get under his skin. Absolutely pathetic.

Alfyn knew that the second he went back to them, he was going to have to start acting again. That was the choice he had made a long time ago. He wasn't going to let anybody know it when he was suffering. His mother had deserved better than to shoulder his burdens as well as her own back when she was still alive, and he wasn't going to put the weight of his problems on anybody else either. That just wouldn't be right. He was simply going to have to stay strong.

He was being ridiculous anyways. He wasn't like Vanessa... Right? Alfyn would never be like her. He was too firm in his belief in the good of the world to let himself slip away the way that she had. Vanessa had lost control, but he wasn't going to do that. Realistically, Alfyn knew that he was fine. He was going to make sure that he was fine, and he had good people to make sure he didn't lose himself either.

But that didn't stop the fear from rearing its ugly head deep in the pit of his stomach. 

When Alfyn closed his eyes, he was met with the sight of Marlene, Ellen, and Flynn looking at him with such joy and relief on their faces. He had been the one to cure Flynn where Vanessa would have left her to die in the name of her own profits. Alfyn had saved multiple lives that day by distributing the medication among the townspeople who Vanessa had poisoned without a second thought. That was why he was doing this. He may not have ever been able to enjoy the luxuries that Vanessa was dreaming of, but was any expensive gift truly worth it if it had been purchased on the blood of the vulnerable and innocent?

"I hope I know what I'm doing," Alfyn muttered as he looked up to the spires of the cathedral one last time. The question had a second meaning; he hoped that the gods were sending him down the right path as well. This was clearly where the group was meant to be as per their unknown mission, but Alfyn had no idea where he was supposed to fit in with all of this yet. Hell, he didn't think he would be ready to find an answer for quite some time. His stomach was still twisted in fear, and he had no idea how he was supposed to handle it.

Alfyn sighed and turned around, walking back in the direction of the inn. He still felt sick to his stomach because of how the day had been going, and even if he had managed to save many lives from Vanessa's horrifying actions, he was still afraid. He couldn't even say what he was scared of, but he knew that it was something terrible.

He was nothing like her... Or so he was choosing to believe. After all, who knew what would happen if that lie fell apart?

~~~~~

Therion was sitting in the room that he and Alfyn were sharing for the night when the apothecary got back. He was sharpening his knife using a stone that he had picked up while they were in town, and Alfyn didn't even need to ask to know that Therion had likely stolen it. The apothecary shut the door behind him before watching Therion's knife scrape across the stone. The small noise was the only thing to pierce the silence, and all that did was make Alfyn even more afraid of speaking than he would have been otherwise.

Therion could feel Alfyn's eyes on him, but he didn't look up to meet the other man's gaze, instead simply continuing with his work. He knew that Alfyn would say something when the time was right; he just needed a moment to think everything through. That was the type of person Alfyn was. He thought a bit too much, especially when it came to darker subjects like this.

"How did you know about Vanessa?"

Therion's sharpening immediately stopped, and he looked up to see Alfyn watching him with a strangely sober and nervous expression. "You seemed to know that she was up to something before the rest of us figured it out. When we met up with one another, you knew what was happening even though we hadn't told you anything yet. How did you figure it out?"

Therion sighed before setting the stone off to the side. "I watched her," he replied bluntly. "Something deep down told me that she was up to something, but I didn't want to say anything until I had evidence. I didn't figure it out until around the time that you did. I didn't know that you had found the truth too. I..." He didn't let the next sentence come out, instead biting the words back before they could thrive in the silence. I wanted to be the one to tell you. Maybe it would have hurt a bit less if I was the one to explain it. After all, you trust me for some reason I still don't understand.

"I see," Alfyn said simply. He sat down on the bed, and all of the gusto melted out of his body in the blink of an eye as he stared down at his hands. He didn't say anything as he looked down at his palms like he was waiting for them to reveal some unknown truth to him after all that had happened that day.

Therion stared at him for a long moment before looking off to the side. "You trusted her," he commented. It wasn't about judgement or anything; it was simply a statement of fact, and unfortunately, it was one that struck much deeper than either one of them could have ever expected.

Alfyn nodded. "I did," he admitted. "I like to think that humans are good. I don't want to think that there are people out there who hurt others for the sake of their own greed. Then again... I guess I should have known by now. I heard about what Helgenish did before we met up with everyone else. I know what Rufus did. Both of them were nothing short of disgusting, and now... I guess I thought Vanessa was going to be different. I didn't think that monsters walked around with such convincing disguises. I thought that she would be nicer than they were. I got sucked into her trap the same way everyone else did."

"But you coughed the bait back up," Therion pointed out. "She would still be out hurting the people of Goldshore if you hadn't started realizing there was something wrong. I can say that she's done this in other towns too; she would have moved on and done this to somebody else if you hadn't fought her off."

"I could see the leaves in her bag. She's been at this for months, hasn't she?" Alfyn muttered with a shake of his head. "The guards said that they would hand out refunds to the people she scammed, and the rest of it... Everything else that she managed to gather is coming with us as thanks for catching her."

Therion hummed at that, glad that they were getting the money legally this time instead of forcing him to smuggle thousands of leaves through the bitter cold like he had back in Stillsnow. He reached for the sharpening stone again, pretending that he wasn't being more aggressive this time around since Rufus' name had come up. "She would have kept doing it if you hadn't done something about it," Therion reiterated. "You did the best thing you could."

"But I believed her. So many people did," Alfyn sighed, his face falling into his hands. It was like the first few chips of his mask were starting to come away. After all of the smiles that he had given the world, he was beginning to fall apart, and Therion couldn't believe that the apothecary was trusting him with such a moment of sensitivity. Alfyn pulled his hands away from his face after a few beats of silence, and he looked up to Therion with dark eyes. "How did you figure out that there was something else going on? You said that you thought she was up to something, but... How did you know?"

Therion didn't know how to respond to that, so he just kept sharpening with hopes that it would help him to either escape the conversation or come up with a better answer than the ridiculously pathetic one swirling at the back of his mind. "It was the look in her eyes when she talked to you," Therion murmured. "She was never genuine about what she said. I could see it in the way she carried herself. She was always going to do something like this, and I know what cruelty like that looks like. It was easy enough to figure it out given the fact that I know what to look for."

"I'm just glad that there are a few people around here who I can still trust after all of that," Alfyn smiled loosely, though Therion could tell that he didn't really mean the joy that he was attempting to shove on his face. "Like you and everyone else in our group."

"Like me?" Therion echoed, looking up with doubt on his expression. Given what had happened in Bolderfall with his brazen acts of self-sabotage, he would have thought that Alfyn would want nothing to do with him, and yet, there the apothecary was, trying to reach out to him the same as always. It wasn't exactly unwelcome, but it most certainly was confusing.

Alfyn nodded. "Yeah," he said simply like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I know that you've got your troubles just like the rest of us, but I know that I can trust you with anything when push comes to shove. It's a tough situation, but you're a good person, Therion. I think you should have a bit more faith in yourself when it comes to things like these."

Therion didn't know how to respond to that, so he went back to sharpening in the silence, knowing that no words would ever be sufficient when it came to explaining his feelings on the matter to Alfyn. "I guess so," he muttered plainly, not sure about what else he was even meant to say.

Alfyn perked up a bit at those words, and he leaned forward onto his knees as he continued to study Therion inquisitively. "I don't think you believe me," he commented. Therion paused for a beat before he continued his work. "I know that it's kind of hard to look at yourself sometimes because we know everything that's wrong with ourselves. It's easy to only see the flaws when that's all that you've been trained to see. I get that you're scared of trusting people, but... I'm not scared of trusting you at all. Even if you're a thief, I would trust you a thousand times over before I would even come close to putting my faith in someone like Vanessa."

Therion couldn't help the words that came out of his mouth next. "Why?" he asked. "What makes me so different from her in your eyes? We're both criminals, and you saw what she was able to do in a matter of days when she was here. What makes you so confident that I'm nothing like her?"

"I don't know," Alfyn admitted after a moment of stark silence. "But I can say that there's a difference somewhere. It's hard for me to face the fact that not everybody is completely trustworthy, but you... I can tell that there's something going on with you that makes you worthy of my confidence. I would put my life in your hands if I had to, Ther. I know that you're not used to something like this after flying solo for so long, but... You don't need to be scared of the rest of us. That's probably not going to stop you, but... I want you to know that you're not the person you think you are."

"You just said that people can't look at themselves well because they know all of their own flaws," Therion pointed out dryly, refusing to look anywhere near Alfyn as he spoke.

"It's complicated," Alfyn finally settled on saying. "I don't really know how to articulate it, but... I know that I'm going to be able to trust you no matter what."

"You trusted Vanessa too," Therion murmured. "How are you so sure that you can trust the rest of us after what she did to you? For all you know, we could stab you in the back at any moment. That's what people tend to do; they hurt each other."

Alfyn took a long time to respond to that, and he opened and shut his mouth a few times before he finally settled on letting out a heavy sigh. "I don't want to deprive myself of ever having the chance to trust people just because I'm afraid," he finally pushed out. "It would be impossible to completely push away the rest of the world. People can't survive alone. I don't want to take away my chances of finding people I care about and who care about me because I'm scared of being hurt. People do hurt each other... But there will always be other relationships that make it worth it."

Therion nodded vacantly, though he could already tell that Alfyn's faith had been shaken and then some after what had happened that day. How could it not be? A lot had happened, and Vanessa could have done that to countless other people had Alfyn not figured everything out. She had been fully ready to kill all of them in the name of keeping her secret, opening the terrifying inquiry of just how many people she had already sacrificed for the sake of her own ego. What had been intended as a relaxing day in a beachside town before they set out for Stonegard had quickly turned into a nightmare, and there was no way that any of them would be able to escape it easily, not as long as they were still forced to confront the remnants of the lies they had been sucked into so easily.

Alfyn sat on the bed in silence for a long while before he got to his feet and started to walk out. "I'm goin' to the tavern," he said simply, leaving the room a few beats later. Therion looked up at him with a small frown as the door tapped shut behind the apothecary. He stared for a long time, wondering what it was that he was supposed to do next, but in the end, he settled on continuing to sharpen at his knife. 

Therion hated Vanessa, if he was being honest. He wished that he could trust people as easily as Alfyn or Tressa, and Vanessa was going to make that much harder for everyone solely because of the evil she had put on full display so effortlessly. Alfyn's world was falling apart whether he wanted to admit it or not, and he was still lying to seem fine for the sake of people who weren't going to believe him forever. Vanessa was going to spend at least a few months locked up in a gaol somewhere to atone for her crimes, but to Therion, that still wasn't going to be enough for everything that she had done not just to the people of Goldshore, but to his friends as well.

Friends.

The sound of sharpening grew louder until it drowned out everything completely, and Therion ignored the tear of rage that slid off his cheek onto the blade pressed between his fingertips.

Chapter Text

Tressa had taken to pacing in the room that she and Ophilia were sharing for the night, unable to calm herself no matter how hard she tried. Ophilia had been watching the Ember as it flickered in the Lanthorn, something she had taken to doing when she felt particularly contemplative. That day had brought out something deep and raw in all of them, and she hadn't spoken a word in ages. Tressa had already taken care of getting new weapons for everyone in the group, and while she would have been more than content to go shopping to help the rest of the day bleed by a little bit faster, she couldn't find the energy given what had happened that afternoon.

Vanessa's actions were still hanging heavily on Tressa's mind. She had always wanted to be a merchant, and while part of her dreamed of finding a nice mansion somewhere to settle down in one day with the people she cared about most, she was fine with disposing of that ideal if it meant doing honest work only. Tressa wanted to make people happy, and she wanted to do what she could to help them too. That had been her desire for as long as she could remember, and Tressa doubted that it was going to ever change. She would never dream of hurting others in the name of her own wishes, and Vanessa... Tressa wished that she had gotten all of her rage out when the woman was still conscious, to say the least.

Ophilia being uncharacteristically quiet wasn't exactly helping Tressa's mood much. Ophilia was staring silently at the Lanthorn, a frown on her face. It didn't take a genius to see that there was something else plaguing the cleric, not that she would ever admit it openly. Tressa had no idea how she was going to get the truth out of Ophilia, but she knew that she had to try. Her pacing wasn't helping her to think at all, but it did something to get rid of her excess energy, she supposed.

Tressa eventually got sick of measuring her words, and she forced herself to stop before turning to Ophilia. "Are you okay?" Tressa asked, already knowing what the answer was going to be.

Ophilia looked as if she had been pinned against a wall with the distress that suddenly bloomed in her eyes at Tressa's words. She blinked for a moment before swallowing and nodding. "Yeah... Everything is fine," she assured Tressa. "You don't need to worry about me." Ophilia's smile was so painfully fake that it made Tressa want to pull her own hair out. Between Alfyn, Vanessa, and now Ophilia, Tressa was getting tired of people pretending to be something they so obviously were not.

"Don't lie to me," Tressa snapped back, though her words were laced with concern the whole way through. She sat beside Ophilia a moment later, and the cleric watched her with wide eyes. "I don't want to make you upset or anything, but... I can tell that there's something else on your mind. You're having a hard time, aren't you? What happened with Vanessa... It's bothering you. I can see it. Just... Talk to me about it. Please? I don't want you to leave yourself with this for too long, and if it means I have to push you a bit, then... I'll do it. I just don't want to see you get hurt."

Ophilia was stunned into silence by Tressa's words, and it seemed like all of her will to fight melted away in the blink of an eye. She looked back down to the Lanthorn, and the Ember cast her face in a strange silvery glow that did little to hide the grief spreading across Ophilia's features. "My father... He's sick back home," she murmured. "I wasn't even supposed to go on the Kindling in the first place. It should have been Lianna, my sister. Instead, I'm the one doing it because our father is sick. Lianna wanted to stay with him, and I couldn't force her to go out and do this. Seeing Vanessa hurt so many people... She made those people sicker than ever before for the sake of her own profits. I don't know how anyone can be so cruel as to hurt people like that. It's... It's..."

"Monstrous," Tressa finished for her, and Ophilia nodded her agreement. Tressa sighed before looking down at her hands. "I wish I could say that you're wrong, but... You're right. I don't know how Vanessa can live with herself after everything that she's done, but... I guess we can't really do anything to yell at her now. She's in the dungeon, and I doubt she's going to be let out any time soon given everything that she did here."

"Yeah," Ophilia hummed before she let out a heavy sigh. "Just... I don't know. I can't believe that there are people out there who are so terrible to one another... I know that there are people who can be nothing short of awful, but... I liked to think that there were better people out there. I don't want to have to face the evils of the world all the time. I'm already trying to get home in time to see my father again. I don't... I didn't want to see Vanessa do all of this. I'm so unbelievably upset that she would even dream of something like that, and... And..."

"You don't know how to say it, but you're mad," Tressa finished for her, and Ophilia nodded. Tressa sighed before looking up at the ceiling of the room. "I'm mad at her too. I always thought... I don't know. I mean, back in Rippletide, the biggest danger we had to deal with were pirates, and we were able to take care of that with smiles on our faces. I was just a merchant girl back there, and while I know that I couldn't have stayed that way forever... It's just..."

"It's hard to see all of this," Ophilia said simply. 

Tressa hesitated before sighing again. "Yeah," she murmured breathlessly. "I can't go back to the person I was before, and I don't even think I would want to at this point. I do know that I don't want to have to deal with people like Rufus and Vanessa though. Helgenish... That was the first time I ever saw someone who was truly evil down to his core. He was hurting people to make himself feel stronger, and... Rufus was doing the same thing. Then we get here, and Vanessa... It's the same thing all over again."

"Something about Vanessa feels so insidious," Ophilia admitted, though she wasn't quite sure how she was meant to phrase it. "She was acting like she was helping those people as per her job. Instead... She was hurting them. Nobody would have given her a second glance if Alfyn hadn't figured out what she was doing."

"I don't get how people can be so awful to each other," Tressa muttered with a shake of her head. "Just... I don't get any of this. I know that there are awful people out there, but... I guess that with Helgenish and Rufus, it was easy to say that they weren't like the rest of us. They were rich and lived on top of the people that they've stepped on, but... Vanessa walked around Goldshore like everybody else. She pretended to help people with a smile on her face. She's done that to countless people before all of this started, and we're never going to be able to say for sure how many people she hurt. There are so many of her victims whose lives have been changed because of her selfishness, and... I don't know what to do about any of this. I want to help people, but... We can't save everyone, can we?"

Ophilia was quiet for a long time as she thought over those words, but she eventually settled on shaking her head. "No... We can't," she admitted softly. "We did the best we could for the people who Vanessa hurt though, and the least we can do now is try to move forwards and hope that we can help others along the way too. Tomorrow, we'll be in Stonegard, and I think that we're going to be able to help H'aanit's master at long last. She's been scared for him, and... I think it's going to be important for all of us."

Tressa nodded at that, though she could tell there was more to what Ophilia was saying than she was willing to admit at a first glance. Ophilia was desperate to help others, and this situation was only continuing to draw out the parts of her that wanted to ease the suffering of those around her. It was obvious why Ophilia had been chosen for the Kindling given her infinite love and empathy for the rest of the world, and Tressa couldn't help but feel sick at the fact that Vanessa ruthlessly took advantage of people like that. All of them had been kind enough to believe her, even if it was just for a short while, and she had responded by stabbing them in the back with all the force she possibly could have. Even just thinking about Vanessa was enough to make Tressa sick whether she wanted to admit it or not.

Tressa leaned back and stared up at the ceiling before shaking it off and shifting her attention to the Tempest Spear. She tested the weight of the weapon between her fingers, and she wondered if the gods had been right to choose all of them for this mission, whatever the hell it was supposed to be. There was still so much they didn't understand, and the lack of information was enough to make Tressa feel sick to her stomach. She tried to shake it off, but she could already tell that it wasn't going to be that simple. She wanted to know what was happening, and she wanted to know why any of this was taking place at all. It felt like she didn't understand anything, and Vanessa had simply been the one to prove just how hollow and clueless she and the rest of the group truly were.

Ophilia continued to watch the Ember dance inside the Lanthorn, and Tressa found herself staring at it as well. She didn't know what answers could be found within the flames, but she was desperate to find some sense of salvation in the white pyre even if she knew it wasn't going to be that simple. Maybe Stonegard would have some answers for them. That was Tressa's dream, at the very least, though she could already tell that she couldn't let her hopes get too high. After everything that had happened in Goldshore, part of Tressa wanted to hide under a bed somewhere until all of this blew over, but nothing was ever that simple. 

No matter how much she hated having to admit it, they were simply going to have to confront everything that Vanessa had done whether it be then or at some point in the future. She had shaken all of them, and Tressa despised how easily she had done it. She deserved better, and so did all of her friends. She hoped that Vanessa regretted everything that she had done wherever she was rotting away now beneath the grounds of Goldshore. That was the least Vanessa deserved.

~~~~~

Alfyn stared down at the mead in his mug at the tavern, a distorted version of his reflection looking back at him in the murky liquid. He began to slosh it around within the cup, watching as the drink churned silently. He had been nursing drinks for the last hour or so, not that he could bring himself to drink that much. Normally, it was a great way for Alfyn to forget about the strife the rest of the world had to offer him, but it wasn't as if that could help him when he couldn't leave his problems at the door. He kept on thinking about Vanessa and how she had willingly left Flynn to die, and his mind was pained with the expression of the young girl doubled over in her silent agony. Vanessa had done that to countless others before this too. She was a monster, and part of him was still convinced that he was like her.

Alfyn knew what Therion had been doing when they had spoken earlier. Everything that Therion had said wasn't a matter of not trusting Alfyn or any other members of the group. Instead, Therion was simply afraid of what might happen if he gave himself the chance to admit that he truly did care about. He was acting out of fear and self-sabotage, and Alfyn knew that. Still, it didn't stop the way that Therion's words hollowed out his stomach with fear and regret.

This shouldn't have hurt so much. Vanessa stepping out of line shouldn't have meant so much to him, and yet, he couldn't get her out of his head no matter how hard he tried. A headache pounded at the back of his mind, and it had nothing to do with the two drinks he had already enjoyed. Well, enjoyed was a strong word. He hadn't really had fun with much of anything that afternoon. It was ridiculous to think that Vanessa was doing so much to hurt him without batting an eyelash, and Alfyn wondered if she would ever regret what she had done. She hadn't cared at all about killing every member of Alfyn's party if it meant keeping her secret, and she had seemed so apathetic to the idea of leaving the people of Goldshore to die because of her actions. She didn't seem to care what she did at all. As long as it served her own purposes, she would be alright. Her apathy was a blessing that Alfyn hadn't been given, it seemed.

Alfyn swallowed dryly before he took another drink. He didn't normally hit the tavern this early in the day, but he couldn't help it. He just wanted to forget about all of this. How could he tell the rest of the group that he was worried about what Vanessa had done? He didn't even trust himself enough anymore to say that he wasn't going to be like her. Vanessa had likely held something resembling goodness in her heart at one point, but in the end, she surrendered it in the name of her own greed. Alfyn liked to think that he was a good person. Still, that didn't mean that he was in the clear. He could have slipped and become like her at any moment. For all he knew, that was still in his future.

"I figured I would find you here."

Alfyn just about jumped out of his skin at the sound of Olberic's voice. He turned to see both Olberic and Cyrus approaching him. Olberic's expression was stony as always, but Cyrus wore a gaze made of pure concern. Alfyn could already tell what they were going to ask him about, not that he knew how to respond. He stared for a long moment before pressing a smile on his features. Alfyn almost made himself sick with how painfully fake it all felt. "I didn't expect company," he chimed in, trying to seem as merry as possible. He could tell that Olberic and Cyrus weren't going to buy it, but he felt like he at least had to try. He had told Ellen the importance of staying positive, and he had no right to say something like that if he didn't put in the same effort.

Sure enough, Olberic didn't respond to his merry greeting, instead simply sitting off to Alfyn's right while Cyrus sat on Olberic's other side. Alfyn watched them carefully before staring back into his mug, knowing that meeting their gazes would only invite them to poke and prod holes in the mask that he was trying so desperately to keep intact. "Is there something you two need?" he asked cautiously, already knowing that something was going to fall apart before their conversation was through.

"We wanted to ensure that you were alright," Cyrus replied as he looked at Alfyn from head to toe. Alfyn felt like he was being pinned to the spot by Cyrus' sheer intensity, especially when the scholar shook his head with a light hum. "It seems that we were right to be worried about you."

"Why? I'm fine," Alfyn assured him with a wave and a smile. Everything about the gestures felt so painfully fake that Alfyn was almost convinced that he was going to be sick. Cyrus raised an eyebrow that showed he wasn't going to be buying any of that, and Alfyn let out another sigh. "What is it you two really came for? Are you just going to poke fun at me or what?"

"We're not here to make fun of you," Olberic reiterated. "After what happened with Vanessa... It seemed like a lot was on your mind. We wanted to make sure that you were alright. You're clearly struggling. I can see it in your eyes."

Of course Olberic would be able to figure something like this out. The eyes were the windows to the soul, and Olberic was no stranger to darkened souls and dealing with tragedy. Alfyn's shoulders slouched over a fraction as he shook his head. "I don't know... I guess I'm just worried about what's going to happen next," he admitted softly, though he didn't dare to say what it was that he feared so greatly. If he said it out loud, it might become real. His conversation with Therion was still hanging heavily over his shoulders, and Alfyn felt like he was going to be shoved into the ground if anything else started pushing down on his body. 

"You shouldn't be afraid of becoming like her," Cyrus frowned. "You're nothing like Vanessa, Alfyn. We know how much you care for the people around her. Vanessa lost sight of her care for humanity, and that was where her greed rushed in to fill the gaps left behind."

"When I first met her, she seemed so genuine. I thought that she really did want to help people the same way that I do," Alfyn admitted softly with a shake of his head. "I thought that we were the same at first, and look at how well that turned out. She would have killed the entirety of Goldshore if she thought it would give her the chance to rob their graves. She wasn't afraid of killing the rest of us. Monsters like that... They live everywhere whether we want to admit it or not. She walked among us here in Goldshore. I trusted her. She's not like Rufus was. She's not even like Helgenish as far as I can tell. They were both monsters, but they... They were obviously monsters. Vanessa did her best to hide her true nature, and she almost got away with hurting people while smiling all the way. I don't... I don't know what to think of any of this. I want to trust people, but how can I do that when Vanessa..."

"She betrayed your trust," Cyrus finished for him, and Alfyn nodded vacantly, not sure about how he was supposed to express the depth of his fear. Cyrus thought for a long moment before shaking his head. "I suppose you never can know for sure what people are going to do."

"No... You never know what a person is thinking until they act and show the truth of their nature to the world," Olberic agreed, and the tension between his eyes told Alfyn that he had seen this situation more times than he was willing to admit openly. "Everything comes together when you least expect it to, and then... The moments of darkness are where you can truly see what a person is made of. When you fought against Vanessa, you were firm in your resolve. You fought against her with everything you had while staring into the darkness and being unaffected by it."

"Was I really unaffected though?" Alfyn challenged. "I feel like I'm one wrong step away from becomin' exactly like her. I don't want to be like that, but she... She got in my head, and I don't know how to get her out." Normally, Alfyn wouldn't be caught dead admitting weakness to others like this. He had vowed a long time ago that he wasn't going to be a burden to others, but... He was just tired. There were a thousand storms screaming in his mind, but he refused to listen to half of them, only saying what he had to. Being stubborn about it was only going to make things worse for all of them. He could see the determination in Cyrus and Olberic's eyes already to say that they wouldn't be letting him go until he admitted the truth. Alfyn could only hope that he didn't drag them down too much with his problems. That was the last thing he ever wanted to see happen.

"You're not like Vanessa," Olberic insisted, his eyes hardening along the way. "Vanessa would have killed countless people in the name of her own greed. How do you feel about hurting the people of Goldshore? Would you be able to do it? How about the people we met back in Stillsnow? Noblecourt? S'warkii?"

Alfyn stopped at that, staring at Olberic with wide eyes. He wouldn't be able to do it. No matter how much he could have hated them, he wouldn't have been able to kill them. Alfyn had endless animosity for Vanessa, but he still didn't want to kill her. He had held back because he couldn't stand the thought of taking away the most precious gift that anyone could ever receive: life itself. Everyone only got one chance, and the thought of stealing that opportunity from anyone... It wasn't his choice to make. No matter how much he despised Vanessa or Rufus, that wasn't something he could decide. He wasn't a god with the power of the law at his fingertips. The execution of evil was up to other people. He was a healer, and the idea of using that against others was too overwhelmingly awful for him to bear.

"No... I could never hurt them," Alfyn finally forced himself to say when he got a grip on himself once again. "They deserve better than what Vanessa would have done to them if she was given the chance. I... I wouldn't ever want to see people suffer if there was something I could do to help them."

"Exactly," Olberic said with a firm nod. "That's proof that you're not like her. Vanessa would have never paused to think about it the way you are now. You're not like her, not in the slightest."

Alfyn's foot instinctively started bouncing on the spot from anxiety. "I guess," he murmured. He didn't think that any words would be able to reassure him at this point. He wanted so desperately to feel better about everything that had happened, but he could tell that it wasn't going to be as simple as he would have liked. It seemed like nothing ever was anymore. He shook his head and sighed heavily. "I hope that we don't run into any other people like her along the way. I mean, we didn't think we were going to find her here, and for all we know, others that think the same way she does could come out of the shadows and surprise us when we least expect it while we're in some other town."

"And we'll deal with them the same way we handled Vanessa," Cyrus assured him. "You don't need to fear doing all of this by yourself, Alfyn. The rest of us were more than happy to help in the battle against Vanessa, and we're still happy to do what we have to in order to help you in the future as well. You truly have nothing to fear."

"I just... I don't want to hurt anyone," Alfyn admitted. "I don't even know how to describe it, but... I don't want to have to be the one to kill anybody. What Primrose does... It's her business, not mine. I don't want to get involved with her mission to get revenge against the men who killed her father because that's her choice to make, not mine. As for my own decisions... I don't want to hurt anybody the way that Vanessa did. I don't want to have to kill anybody at all. That fight could have ended so differently if we didn't get lucky... We could have had to kill her. I don't... I don't want to imagine it, but I can't seem to get it out of my head."

"I wish I could tell you that I had a certain answer as to how you were meant to deal with this," Olberic confessed. "But the fact of the matter is that it's never as easy as we would like to face the problems that cross our paths. It's always much harder than we would expect, and this is no different. I can't guarantee that you're never going to be put in a position like that... But I can tell you that you're not alone in facing it anymore."

"Precisely," Cyrus agreed with a firm nod. "No matter what happens next, the rest of us are going to be here for you. That's what we've done up to this point, and that isn't going to change no matter what comes next. We're going to find a way to push through all of this, and when we do... Everything will be alright. If we have to fight against people who are like Vanessa in the future, then we'll take that as a group. This isn't your burden to carry alone. None of us have to hold our own problems on our own now."

Alfyn nodded gently, though he wished that Cyrus was actually hearing himself. Primrose was starting to come around when it came to talking to the others, and she seemed to be doing better despite the miniature crisis she seemed to be facing down while they were in Stillsnow and Noblecourt. Therion, on the other hand, was still just as secluded as ever. No, that wasn't true; he was starting to open up, and he was upset with himself for it. Alfyn knew that Therion had to take this at his own pace if he was going to reach a meaningful conclusion, but he still wished that there was something more he could do. As it stood, it felt like Cyrus' words rang hollow even though they should have been honest, and Alfyn wanted once again to curl up in a hole and wait for everything involving Vanessa to blow over so that he could just forget about it and move on. He doubted he would ever be able to forget what she did, but the desire was still there.

"I think we should go back to the inn soon," Cyrus remarked after a few beats of silence as he glanced down to the mug. He hadn't said anything, but Alfyn could tell that Cyrus had read him like a book. Of course he had. If there was anyone who was skilled in the power of observation and deduction, it was Cyrus. The scholar had already realized that the reason Alfyn had come to the tavern at all was to drown his sorrows in the bottle of a mug of mead for the night, and he wasn't having any of it. Judging by the nod of agreement Olberic gave in response to Cyrus' words, Alfyn assumed that he had figured it out as well.

"Alright," Alfyn murmured. He could already tell that he wasn't going to be getting away with this, and part of him was grateful for it. He didn't want to bring himself to the point of ruin just to forget about the events of the day. He deserved better than that, not that he really felt like it at the moment. However, if he was still aware of his actions, that meant that he was going to remember everything, and he could already tell that was going to make sleeping a nightmare on multiple levels.

Olberic and Cyrus waited for Alfyn to drain the rest of his mug, and the apothecary set a few leaves on the counter as payment before they left. Tressa had said she would take charge of everything that the group got as thanks from Goldshore for defeating Vanessa, and Alfyn knew that was for the best. He wouldn't be able to look at the spoils they got from Vanessa without feeling sick to his stomach given where that money had come from. There was no way to find all of her victims though so that they could return the money, and so, Alfyn would simply have to ignore the nausea that came with the knowledge of everything that was happening.

On the way back to the inn, Alfyn looked at the sun as it was setting over the horizon. The sky was dyed pink and orange by the fading light, and Alfyn shook his head at the sight. He didn't know when everything had gotten so complicated, but part of him yearned for the day before. It was hard to believe that everything had happened so quickly. Just that morning, they had been in Bolderfall to drop off the ruby dragonstone. After that, they fought against Bifelgan and arrived in Goldshore before Vanessa continued to ruin everything.

When Alfyn thought about it like that, his eyes couldn't bring themselves to stay open, and Alfyn couldn't help wanting to collapse on the mattress of his bed at the inn. Maybe if he passed out from exhaustion, he wouldn't have any nightmares about Vanessa's actions that night. He had no evidence, but he hoped it was true with everything he had. 

He could really use a break for once.

Chapter Text

When morning came, Primrose woke up earlier than most to try and work out the tension in her shoulders before they hit the road. She had been stressed all night, not that she could particularly put a finger on why. She leaned her head back to watch the sky as the sun started to crawl over the horizon, desperate to force the rushing in her mind to stop.

She knew exactly what was going on deep down. How could she not? Vanessa's actions the day before had caught everyone by surprise, and they were all mad as could be that she had so casually tossed aside the value of life in the name of her own ambitions. Primrose knew all about death; it was what had started her on this journey to begin with. She had seen her father die at the hands of the foul trio of crows. She had watched the way Yusufa's blood was swallowed by the sand outside Sunshade prior to her burial. She had enjoyed the way Helgenish writhed as her dagger plunged into his body and stole every ounce of life he possessed. She had stared down at Rufus as he faced his final moments, knowing that she was offering justice to every other person that he had hurt. Death was part of Primrose's life, constantly following her regardless of where she went or how fast she ran.

Primrose watched the sunrise from her place beside the inn, wondering half-heartedly if perhaps she should go on a walk through the town before they left. She hadn't expected to wake up so early, she had to admit, and she could only hope that the others took long enough for her to try and calm down. It shouldn't have been influencing her so much, and yet--

"Dost thou thinke Alfyn will be alright?"

The sound of H'aanit's voice startled Primrose out of her daze, and she whirled around to see the huntress approaching her carefully. Primrose swallowed dryly as she let out a sigh in the huntress' direction. "H'aanit... I didn't realize you were awake," she admitted carefully, doing her best to calm the screaming in her chest caused by H'aanit's sudden arrival. Primrose sighed heavily as H'aanit continued to watch her levelly. It took Primrose a few more moments to find a grip on herself once again enough to answer the huntress' question. "I... I think he'll get there. It might take a while, but... He's going to figure it out eventually."

H'aanit hummed in response, and Primrose could tell that her companion was still worried. Linde curled her tail around H'aanit's legs, and the huntress reached one hand down to start scratching at the snow leopard's head. Linde purred before leaning against H'aanit a bit more. "I thinke he is frightened," H'aanit said after a pause that seemed to last an eternity. "He hast much on his mind."

Primrose nodded. "You're right," she murmured, swallowing dryly once again. She eyed the ground in front of her shoes again a beat afterwards before sighing. "I... I never wanted a life like this for him. I didn't want it for anybody else either, honestly."

"The path of violence," H'aanit concluded before Primrose was able to explain herself. Hägen let out a small groan as he leaned against H'aanit, and the hunter decided to split her attention between the two animals vying for her physical affection. 

"Yeah," Primrose forced herself to say after a pause that she was convinced was going to suffocate her. She tried to find her words for a few moments after the fact before sighing. "He didn't want it to come to this. He never wanted to have to fight against Vanessa, not that I can blame him. He was hoping that this would be a time for all of us to relax, and in the end... She spit in our faces and made it clear that we weren't going to be given a chance like that."

H'aanit nodded as she glanced up to Primrose. "Thou understandeth the violence of this worlde better than most," she began. "If anyone could confronten that darkness, it wouldst be thou."

"I can only hope," Primrose scoffed, too embarrassed to know how to thank H'aanit. Pink was already starting to stain her cheeks though, so Primrose was sure that H'aanit already knew what she was thinking. Primrose shook her head a beat later, and H'aanit watched her ever movement carefully. "Alfyn... He's a healer. He wants to help others by saving their lives, not by stealing the existences of those who are dangerous to others. Vanessa... He was the first one to show him that something like that might not be possible for others. I hate her for it."

"She put many people at riske with her ambitions," H'aanit said simply as she glanced down to Linde. "People like that... They truly disgusten me."

"You wouldn't be the only one who hates her for what she's done," Primrose assured the huntress. "I think all of us are mad at her. How could we not be? She... She could have killed so many people. I know that I've probably not given myself a great reputation when it comes to killing others as part of my revenge, but... Helgenish gave me no other options, and after the years he spent abusing girls before killing Yusufa, he had it coming. Rufus was hurting anyone he had to in order to keep his grip on power as strong as possible. I don't know how either one of them could live with themselves, but... They earned what came to them. I'm not going to sit here and say that everybody deserves to die though."

"Those two were monsters plain and simple," H'aanit concluded for Primrose.

The dancer nodded. "They were... I don't think I would ever be able to forgive them even if I wanted to. Nobody could. Therion's still upset with Rufus even though he's been dead for a while. I want to kill Helgenish and Rufus a thousand times over for everything that they've done. I... I like to think I'm different from Vanessa though. Nobody wants to be like a person who would throw aside life so casually."

H'aanit looked up to the horizon sagely, and her eyes tracked the sun as it continued to crawl over the skyline. "I couldst never pretend to understanden your motivations in full," she admitted. "That is something that thou can decide alone. Still... I can sayen with certainty that thou is nothing like Vanessa. She wanted to killen others in the name of her own greed. Thou wouldst never raise a blade to those not guilty of unspeakable acteth already."

Primrose found her voice going hoarse already, and she nodded her agreement stiffly. "I wouldn't dream of it," she murmured. "Orlick didn't deserve to die for being influenced by the dragonstone. He may have been a less than kind person to us, but he didn't deserve to die... Alfyn's choice to spare Vanessa is one that I can respect, but... I have to wonder where the line is. At what point do we have to resort to killing people? Where can we say that our actions are justified?"

"That is something that we musten decide for ourselves," H'aanit concluded. "The decision is a personal one... And I have every certainty that thou will maken the best choice."

Primrose looked over at H'aanit for a long moment, and when she did, she was met with the sight of a woman who truly did believe in her. Even after everything that had happened up to that point, H'aanit was willing to place her faith in Primrose and her convictions. Primrose wasn't even sure what she was trying to live for yet, but H'aanit knew that she was doing something of value. At a glance, their morals clashed fiercely, and yet, they were still there for one another in a way that Primrose struggled to describe.

The dancer reached for her dagger before sliding it out of its sheath and staring down at the blade. She swallowed dryly, remembering the feeling of the knife when blood had stained the steel so mercilessly. Had she been justified when acting in the past? Was there any justification for taking the life of another? She was fighting in the name of death against people who she despised with every ounce of her being. Did that make her any different from Vanessa? Was she the mirror of the apothecary that would have killed all of Goldshore if she was given the chance?

Primrose shook her head as she put the knife away. She would find her answers another time, but for now, she just needed to... Breathe. That was something not even Helgenish, Rufus, or Vanessa would be able to take away from her. 

~~~~~

Alfyn found himself wandering down to the beach in the early hours of the sunrise. The party would be leaving Goldshore soon, but Alfyn was still restless and lacking in anything vaguely resembling peace. After tossing and turning for far longer than he was comfortable with, he forced himself out of bed to go and do something to get rid of the anxious energy rattling around just beneath the surface of his skin. He couldn't just sit around any longer than he already had. 

The silence broken only by the water lapping against the shore was too much for Alfyn to stand, and it wasn't long before his lips started forcing words into the air. "Now then... Where out there is someone in need of a fixer-upper?" he asked himself even though he already knew the answer of where he was heading next. Stonegard may have somebody who needed him in the form of Z'aanta, and even if the hunting master wasn't there, he knew that H'aanit was going to need him there. His choice had already been made for him, but his stomach was still twisting in anticipation regardless. 

"Alfyn!"

The voices of Ellen and Flynn snapped Alfyn out of his trance, and he opened his eyes to see the two sisters standing on either side of him, both watching him with eyes as bright as the sun itself. He had heard them coming from the way their shoes moved against the sand, but he smiled at them regardless. Alfyn didn't want to put on a show for them, but he didn't want to scare them more than he had to. They didn't know what Vanessa had done, and as far as he was concerned, they didn't need to know about it. They would be better off if they remained unaware of the truth. 

"Ah, Ellen, Flynn," Alfyn greeted simply with a smile on his face. It truly was nice to be able to see them again before he hit the road. He had grown surprisingly fond of the girls while he was in Goldshore, and seeing their smiling faces only made him hate Vanessa more. How could she have been so willing to sacrifice people like this in the name of her ambitions? It didn't make any sense to him, and all of a sudden, Alfyn wished he had given her an extra punch that Marlene was never able to offer on behalf of her daughters. 

Flynn's gaze shifted to the ground in crestfallen disappointment. "Aw, we were trying to surprise you!" She didn't seem to have noticed Alfyn's mind wandering anywhere but their conversation on the beach, and Alfyn found his stomach settling in relief that he was at least able to partially fool the pair of inquisitive and sweet girls before him. 

Vanessa wanted to ruin this. She wouldn't have cared if they died in the name of her own greed. 

But Alfyn didn't say any of this, knowing that he wouldn't have the strength to tell them even if he tried. "You're already looking a hundred percent, aren't ya, Flynn?" Alfyn asked with a grin. It truly was nice to see her up and running around so soon after what Vanessa had done the day before. She was already on her way to a complete recovery, and she would hopefully reach that point within a week if all went according to plan. 

Flynn nodded. "I'm all better now, thanks to you!" she declared, her face set so perfectly in a smile that captured endless childhood innocence Alfyn hadn't understood himself in an eternity. 

Alfyn let out a hearty laugh as he looked over to the two girls and realized just how dirty they were. They were practically covered head to to in sand, and small flecks of earth could be seen in their bright red hair as well. "But what's this? Have you two been rolling around in the dirt all day?" he asked even though he already had a pretty good idea of what their answer was going to be. 

The two girls looked to one another like they had a secret great enough to shatter the world itself before they started to giggle. Flynn and Ellen nodded excitedly before the latter reached into her bag and pulled out something before pressing it against Alfyn's fingers. "These are for you!" she exclaimed proudly. 

Alfyn crouched down beside her as he took all of the shells into his grasp, eyes wide as could be. They had certainly gotten to work in collecting as many shells as they could stand to hold after he left them behind the day before. While he was wondering what it meant to be an apothecary in light of Vanessa's treachery, they had been collecting a small bounty to gift him, and he stared for a long moment before finally managing to get a grip on his words once again. "Wowzers! Seashells--and scores of 'em!" he exclaimed. 

"We found them together, Flynn and me!" Ellen declared, placing her hands on her hips like she was a statue perfectly exemplifying the wonders of the world. Alfyn rose to his feet as he started to place the shells in the same pocket that he had stored the previous treasure away in, and Ellen's expression sobered as she looked up to him with true, overwhelming gratitude in her eyes. "Thank you for helping us, Alfyn."

Flynn nodded before taking a step closer to him. She took his hand in hers, and Alfyn realized just how much smaller her hands were when compared to his. "Take care, okay?" she asked tenderly, looking up to him with watery eyes. Alfyn could tell by the look in her eyes that Flynn wanted to get to know him better. Ellen had become his friend so quickly, but Flynn hadn't been given the chance to bond with him before he was pulled away to the rest of his journey, and something in her eyes almost seemed to mourn for the time that they hadn't been given together.

Alfyn glanced back and forth between the two girls watching him with such overwhelming adoration, and he felt heat rise to his cheeks from embarrassment. He wasn't used to getting attention like this, and he didn't know how to handle it. In the end, he could only choke out a single word as he watched their sentimental gazes. "Shucks..."

"We found as many as we could. We know you're poor and don't charge people when you help them..." Ellen began to explain, taking a step away from him to look down at the sand beneath her feet. "Is this going to be enough?"

Alfyn smiled and nodded, not having the heart to tell them that while he didn't charge anyone for his help, he had taken more than enough from Vanessa's supply of blood money to carry himself over. Besides, he wouldn't have been able to sell the seashells even if he tried; they were a sign of how much the girls cared about him, and he couldn't get rid of something like that. Tressa was right; that truly was a treasure, and he had no intentions of letting it go no matter what happened next.

He didn't explain the tempest of emotions in his chest though, instead simply nodding. "I reckon it'll keep me fed for a while. Ya didn't have to..." He trailed off when he wasn't able to find the words, glancing back and forth between Ellen and Flynn's faces as their eyes gleamed with optimism and love so overwhelming it almost knocked Alfyn off his feet. He swallowed back his tears when he next spoke, determined to not let them see just how much it hurt to have to leave them so soon. "You take care of your mother now, ya hear?"

Alfyn could feel that something inside of him was growing fragile, so he turned on his heel and started to walk back in the direction of the stairs leading back to the main part of town. He would be able to take care of what little packing he had left and then leave the town with the rest of his group. The longer he watched the two girls, the worse he felt about all of this. 

Vanessa could have killed them. She wouldn't have cared at all how many people she hurt, and these two are just the tip of the iceberg.

Alfyn found his shoulders shaking before he could stop the motion from becoming apparent. He was going to miss these girls so much, and he wished that he could do more to protect them from any people who were at all like Vanessa. Ellen took a step closer to Alfyn, looking up at his face with wide eyes laced in shock. "He's crying! Alfyn's crying!" she exclaimed to Flynn. "Grown-ups aren't supposed to cry!"

Flynn was already walking over to him by the time that he raised one hand to wipe the tears away from his face, albeit much slower than he should have. "Even grown-ups need a good cry from time to time," he told the girls even though he knew that the crying he had just done hardly applied at all. That wasn't a 'good' cry. It was his rage starting to boil over before transforming into grief for something that he shouldn't have needed to be afraid of to begin with. Once again, he hated Vanessa with everything he had, and he wished there was more he could do to keep these two sweet girls and the innocence they held as their own safe.

Alfyn started to walk away from them a moment later, a smile on his face that felt so fake it almost stung him to form it. He eyed the nearby staircase that led up to the main part of town, a sad glaze starting to cross over his eyes the longer he stood on the beach. "Stay healthy for me, will ya?" he asked softly, knowing that it wasn't going to be enough but fully aware that there wasn't much else he was going to be able to do. Still, he would have hated himself forever if he didn't say at least something. 

Ellen nodded from her place behind him. "You too, Alfyn," she told him gently, the words on the verge of breaking away as she spoke them. The waves crashed against the shore nearby as Alfyn walked away, and Ellen sniffled as she waved after him. "You too!"

Flynn looked up at her sister with a small frown on her face, worry making itself apparent across her innocent features. "Now you're crying too!" she cried out. Ellen glanced down to her sister, and she threw her arms around Flynn's body. She didn't understand the full weight of Alfyn's tears, but she did know how to look after her sister, and she wasn't going to let Flynn go no matter what. It was the least she could do to repay her promise to Alfyn.

~~~~~

The apothecary found himself standing outside the inn where the building found a home near the entrance to the town. He stared down at his hands before looking up to the skies overhead. "You were always my hero, an unreachable ideal..." he found himself saying before he could stop himself. He swallowed back his nerves before shaking his head and glancing to the pocket of his bag containing the shells Ellen and Flynn had so kindly gifted him. "Tell me... Is this what you would have wanted for me?"

"Alfyn, are you crying?"

The sound of Primrose's voice came so suddenly that Alfyn let out a yelp of shock as he whirled around to face her. She was standing beside the door to the inn, her bags already prepared for the journey to Stonegard they would be making that day. Everything about her gaze made it perfectly clear to Alfyn that she already knew the answer to her own question; she was simply trying to be as polite as possible to keep from intruding on his moment.

Alfyn swallowed dryly, refusing to give her what she was looking for. The last thing he wanted was to worry anyone more than he already had when it came to his fears over Vanessa and what it meant to be an apothecary. "What? N-Naw, of course not... I just-- I have something in my eye..." he fumbled, desperately searching for words that would make all of this sound fine. He snapped his fingers together half-heartedly when an excuse finally sprang to mind. "S-Sweat, that is! My eyes get sweaty with all this heat and..." He paused when he realized that Primrose wasn't buying it, so he jumped to the next excuse to come to mind. "No, I mean, a bit of dust! In my eyes! Both of them! You know how the sand is around here!"

Primrose analyzed his actions with a caring sense of detachment, and Alfyn could already tell that he wasn't going to last long squirming under those eyes of hers. "Alfyn, there's no shame in showing your emotions," she assured him. "Those little ones adored you, after all." Left unspoken was the idea that they both knew there was more to it than met the eye. This wasn't just about Flynn and Ellen; it was about Vanessa and everything that she could have done if she hadn't been caught when she was. They had gotten in the middle of something much greater than themselves, and Alfyn was still struggling with the weight of it.

Primrose glanced down to his bag, and she smiled at the sight of the pouch containing the shells the girls had gifted him. "Now, do look after those shells, won't you?" she asked of him, though it was more of an instruction than anything else, not that Alfyn needed to be told twice to hold his memories of Ellen and Flynn close to his chest.

Alfyn wondered for a moment how Primrose had known about the shells that the girls had given him before he realized that the inn still overlooked the beach. She had probably woken up soon after him and watched his conversation with Ellen and Flynn from afar, her way of showing how much she cared even if she wasn't ready to approach the subject openly yet. No, that wasn't true; Primrose was ready. Alfyn was the one who was still struggling to find his footing.

"Oh, er... Right," Alfyn said in place of the racing of his mind. He looked down at the shells before swallowing once again, another sniffle pushing its way free before he could stop it. "Aw, shucks. Another speck of dust..."

Primrose's hand found his shoulder a beat later, and the two simply stood there for a long while as Alfyn looked at the ground below. He didn't think he would have been able to find the words to thank her even if he had wanted to. He was desperate to say something, but all he could do was watch the cobbled streets of Goldshore below despite knowing there was nothing that could be said. He thought that at least getting a bit of sleep would help him to feel better about all of this, but the sensation of dread in the pit of his stomach was still there. It felt like some demon Vanessa left behind was still watching his every move, and all he could do was stand around and let her eyes follow his every move. He couldn't fight the ghosts of the people that she had killed for her own greed. Alfyn was capable of many things, but that wasn't one of them.

"Alfyn... I wish to thank you."

The sound of Ophilia's voice from behind him caught Alfyn off guard, and he turned to face Ophilia as Primrose pulled her hand away from him. It took a few seconds for Alfyn to find his footing once again, unsure as to how he was supposed to respond to being pulled in a thousand different directions at once. "You do? For what?" he asked, surprised he was even able to say that much around the heavy rock at the center of his chest.

"For healing Flynn," Ophilia replied simply, though Alfyn could already tell that there was more to it than that. There was something dark about her eyes that told him loud and clear that she had something else on her mind as well that she wasn't ready to talk about yet. The time would come where she was open about it, he was sure, but for the moment, he was left trying to fumble what seemed like the easiest explanation in the world.

He shook his head with a small smile on his face that he hoped didn't look as tired as he felt. "I don't need thanks for that, Phili. Easin' folk's sufferin' is my job. I'm just doing what I came here to do," Alfyn told her simply. He hadn't expected that this work would find him in Goldshore, but he wasn't complaining about being able to help Flynn and Ellen through their struggles. He could only hope that they were able to look after Marlene as well, and something at the center of his chest wished there was more they could do for them, though no amount of compensation money from the city of Goldshore would be able to erase the tracks Vanessa left behind in the name of her greed.

"Only because you are such a gentle soul and have made it your job," Ophilia pointed out. "That's a rare thing in this day and age." Her fingers drifted to the Ember where it was hiding at her waist, and Alfyn could tell that she was thinking about Vanessa. How could she not be? Vanessa hadn't cared at all about the suffering of those around her, and that was what had made her such a monster. Just thinking about her made Alfyn want to punch something.

Still, he did his best to shove his rage aside as he let one hand come up to scratch at the base of his neck. "Aww, shucks," he said softly, pink starting to color his cheeks once again. He had never been the best at dealing with attention, and that clearly still rang true regardless of where he was across the continent.

Ophilia's fingers slid across the Lanthorn for a few moments longer before she sighed. "My father back in Flamesgrace fell sick recently," she murmured. "He doesn't know if there's anyone who will be able to help him recover, and... I'm worried." She shook her head a beat later in an attempt to smile to Alfyn, though her wishes of masking her fears fell short in the apothecary's eyes. "I'm so happy that the people of Goldshore had you around before anything like that could happen. They deserved to be able to find help, and... I'm glad you were able to provide it."

Alfyn shook his head with a sad smile. "It's just part of my job," he assured her before falling silent for a beat. "Vanessa... She didn't ever believe that though. I guess that's how she was able to lose herself."

"I don't know how anybody could ever willingly place the pain of others behind their own desires," Ophilia murmured. "It's just... It's awful. That's the only way I can phrase it."

"I don't think there are any other words for it to begin with," Alfyn admitted softly. He pushed his shoulders back a moment later, and he did his best to seem as positive as possible despite the deep pain that was already starting to find a home inside of his body once again. He couldn't think about Vanessa more than he already had. That was only going to make him feel worse, and he didn't even think that was possible given the circumstances. "Are we ready to go? Stonegard awaits."

"We should be," Primorse said as she glanced over to where Tressa was finishing off their checklist of supplies. It was impressive how quickly Tressa had taken it upon herself to make sure they were ready each time they had to leave a town, not that Alfyn was complaining. It certainly seemed to make her happy, and she was much better with inventory than he could have ever dreamed to be. Her history as a merchant was certainly doing everyone in the group countless favors in managing their travels.

Nearby, Cyrus was looking around at the crowds surrounding the party. He couldn't quite say where the sensation had come from, but he suddenly felt as if he was being watched. No... It wasn't new. He had been feeling this way for a while, but he hadn't ever recognized it for what it was. Surely he was wrong about this though. Cyrus couldn't see anyone staring at him, and none of the other travelers had said anything about it either. Perhaps he was simply mistaken. That must have been it.

"And that should be it," Tressa announced, unaware that everyone save Cyrus was watching her as she tucked the small parchment checklist back into the bag on her back. She adjusted the bag's straps before letting out a small breath of determination. "Let's get going, everyone. You know what we have to do now."

Alfyn nodded at that, and he followed the rest of the travelers out of town. He gave one final glance in the direction of the beach where Ellen and Flynn were still collecting shells. He hoped that they were able to stay safe regardless of what happened next. He didn't know what he would do if something happened to them. 

No, that wasn't true. He did know what he would do. Regardless of if she was involved with the problem or not, Alfyn would make sure Vanessa paid for everything she had done. He wasn't going to kill her, but he still wanted her to understand every bit of pain she had brought to others in the world no matter how much she tried to escape accountability. 

Who knew that monsters lived in human skin?

Chapter Text

Ophilia's nerves had been rattling against each other ever since the party left behind Goldshore a few hours ago. It felt like their travels in the direction of Stonegard were taking both a thousand years and no time at all, and Ophilia couldn't help wondering if perhaps she was wandering the world outside the confines of her body somehow. She shuffled mindlessly across the sands as they transformed into the rocks that marked the Highlands, a frown on her face the whole way. 

She was still thinking about Vanessa whether she wanted to admit it or not. All of them were; she could see it in their eyes. Regardless of how desperate they were to escape the past, they couldn't seem to leave the truth of Vanessa's greed behind. Ophilia couldn't help wondering what had happened to all the other people that Vanessa had hurt, though she knew just the same that she would never be able to find that truth. It wasn't possible to put it simply, and that only made Ophilia feel worse. She hadn't even thought that was possible before, but now, it seemed like the all too real reality of her situation. 

Part of Ophilia was desperate to grab the Warp Staff from Cyrus that night and travel back to Flamesgrace to see what was happening there with her father and sister. Josef had said that he wasn't long for this world, but Ophilia was still holding onto the faith that she would be able to see him again soon. She and the rest of the travelers were moving at a pretty decent pace, and if the doctors believed in him, then she did too. She knew that it went against what he thought was real, but Ophilia had to have faith. She had just barely gotten the chance to recognize her family for what it was, and she couldn't lose that so long after the opportunity had finally fallen into her lap. Her fears as an imposter were the reason for her ten years of restraint, but it still stung to think that perhaps she would never get the chance to see him again. 

If Vanessa had been in Flamesgrace, would she have saved him? To Ophilia, the answer seemed obvious: she would have, but only in the name of the money that the church could have provided her for healing the sick archbishop. She was always thinking of herself, and that included when she was saving lives in the name of what should have been the greater good. If Josef hadn't been the archbishop, she would have only looked his way a second time if he had enough money to pay off her extortionate fees, but if not...

Ophilia didn't even want to think about that. 

It felt ridiculous for her to be so worried about a hypothetical that would never come to pass. Vanessa was imprisoned beneath the streets of Goldshore, and she wouldn't be let out any time soon. Alfyn seemed to think that if Vanessa did return to the rest of the world, she would be changed along the way, forced to recognize the error of her ways with no way of outrunning every terrible thing she had done in the past. The slumberthorn would likely induce that sort of effect with its power of nightmares. Still, that didn't shake Ophilia's fears for a reason that she couldn't articulate. 

Josef was going to be fine. Lianna was looking after him, and Ophilia trusted her sister to take care of him. Josef was going to find a way to hold on long enough for Ophilia to return and say goodbye. She had to. Vanessa was never going to be able to do anything to him as long as Ophilia had anything to say about it. Hell, it wasn't even possible anymore to begin with.

Then why couldn't she stop thinking about it?

"Ophilia?"

The sound of H'aanit's voice pulled Ophilia out of her trance, and she immediately snapped to attention to look up at the huntress. She was standing off to Ophilia's right, a small frown on her face. Everything about her was quietly worried, and Ophilia could tell that she had been letting her fear show on her face. She did her best to correct her expression with a smile so fake that it felt like it was poisoning her, and some vague whisper in the back of Ophilia's mind wondered if he had a cure for that. "Is there something you need?" she asked, hating the way her voice was on the verge of breaking no matter how hard she tried to keep herself steady. 

"I'm worried about thou," H'aanit admitted as she looked Ophilia over from head to toe. The cleric could feel how critical H'aanit's eyes were, and it was enough to make her wince, not that she would have shown it openly if she had any say in the matter. Unfortunately for her, H'aanit's gaze was more than enough to strip her bare, and all the cleric could do was stand there and watch. "Thou is thinking about something darke, yes?"

Ophilia hesitated at that, knowing that there was no easy way for her to respond. How could there be? The words seemed to be just out of reach no matter how much she tried to reach for them. She opened her mouth before pressing her lips shut again a few times before she was finally able to speak. "I was thinking about my father," she admitted quietly. Calling Josef her father was still strange to her, but she would get used to it eventually, hopefully by the time she went back home again. 

H'aanit hummed, and something sad appeared in her eyes that made Ophilia feel like she was going to be sick. How could she have forgotten? H'aanit was going on this journey with the rest of them because she was trying to learn more about what had happened to the man who had raised her like she was his own. Josef was Ophilia's father the same way that Z'aanta was H'aanit's guardian, and given how close they were to Stonegard, it was only natural that H'aanit would be sad thinking about what had happened. Ophilia kicked herself for not remembering something so critical even though she knew that H'aanit wasn't going to hold it against her no matter what. 

"Thou misseth him," H'aanit said simply instead of acknowledging the grief in her own eyes. It was a statement of fact rather than a question, and both of them knew it all too well. 

Ophilia hesitated before nodding. "I do," she admitted. "I kept myself from accepting how much he cared about me for a long time, but... Not anymore. After the Kindling is over, I'm going back home, and I... I want to see him again. He's sick and doesn't have much time left, but I know that he's going to hold out long enough for me to say goodbye. He has to."

H'aanit suddenly seemed to understand completely, and she nodded. "What Vanessa did struck a chorde with you," H'aanit began to say. "Thou feareth how many others she woulde have hurt if she was given the opportunity."

Ophilia nodded carefully. "I don't want to think about it," she admitted. "But I just can't get it out of my head. There are so many valiant healers and apothecaries out there who are trying to help those who are sick and suffering. There are people just like that helping my father back in Flamesgrace. To think that somebody like her would take advantage of the pain of others in the name of feeding her own ambitions... It just makes me sick. I don't know how she can live with herself when she knows she could be taking people to their deaths in her name."

"She will have to liven with her mistaketh for the reste of her life," H'aanit said simply, though it was clear that she was just as upset with Vanessa as Ophilia was. "She maden the wrong choice. Her punishment will hardly be a graceful one. What happeneth next to her... She must knowen that she brought it on herself."

Ophilia hummed at that, wishing that she could bring herself to agree completely. She didn't even know if people like Vanessa were able to change. Why would Vanessa have acted that way in the first place if she was going to regret it later? She was counting on never going back on everything that she had started to do. Ophilia was sure of it. She didn't know how Vanessa could live with herself, but she could already tell that she wasn't going to find the answers that she was looking for. The world was going to make sure that she was never quite able to figure out the truth, much to her disdain. Vanessa was already in prison, and Ophilia was halfway to Stonegard. She wasn't going to turn back just to go to the gaol beneath Goldshore to yell at the former apothecary. Ophilia didn't have the drive to do such a thing anyways, and even if she did, she didn't know what she would have even said. What could be said about actions like that?

Before Ophilia could respond to H'aanit in full, she felt something rattle at her hip. She glanced down to see the Lanthorn was starting to react to something, and the flames of the Ember were burning brighter than usual. Ophilia smiled to herself before looking to the rest of the party. "I guess we're getting close to another shrine," she announced. All eyes were on her as she started to walk forward with the Ember gleaming across the stones of the Highlands at her feet.

In the end, the Lanthorn led the group to a small outcropping of stone that pulled away from the rest of the rocks around them. Ophilia could tell that the door was hiding among the rocks without even needing to ask, and she stepped closer with a nervous frown. When the stones began to part to form the entrance to the shrine, she hesitated. She glanced back to the rest of the group, and when they all looked determined to walk inside, Ophilia forced herself onward, doing her best to ignore the way her nerves rattled around in her stomach. 

For a few blissful moments, the shrine was completely dark aside from the gentle glow of the Ember. Ophilia allowed herself the chance to breathe for what felt like the first time in a millennia before the shrine sparked to life around her. Brown flames danced in the torches that were mounted to the wall, and Ophilia frowned as she tried to figure out which god they would be fighting against that day. She was fine with anything at this point; she was desperate for a distraction from her moral crisis regarding Vanessa, and a fight would most certainly take her mind off everything that had happened in Goldshore and everything that was still happening in Flamesgrace. 

At least, that was the hope. 

Ophilia glanced up a moment later and saw the path that stretched forward to the stone carving at the far end of the shrine. She sighed carefully before starting to walk forward, Olberic at her side. He seemed ready to talk to her if she decided that she needed, though Ophilia couldn't say for sure that she was going to take him up on the offer. Once again, she found herself wanting to say so much but struggling to find the words necessary to breathe even a word to her companions. It was a suffocating paradox, and Ophilia could only hope that the battle against the upcoming god would do enough to loosen up her system so that she could do something with all of this rattling energy. She was tired of this already, and she needed a chance to just... Breathe for once. 

When the group arrived at the far end of the shrine, Ophilia looked down to see the marking in the stone. The rocks had been carved to resemble a sword and shield, and Ophilia carefully stared for a long moment. It seemed that, for the first time, they would be fighting against a god with a bias towards physical prowess rather than magical. It would certainly be different from taking up arms against Aelfric, Alephan, and Bifelgan, but Ophilia still had faith that they would be able to pull it off somehow. It wasn't as if the gods had been out for blood previously; they simply wanted the travelers to prove themselves, and if the group had managed to get this far, then they were going to be fine. 

Olberic wound up being the one to touch at the stone carving, and everything that happened in the moments that followed was exactly as Ophilia would have expected. Her vision gave way to white before fading to black, and when she next got a grip on herself, she was standing in the same shapeless battlefield that had marked her previous encounters with the gods. The brown flames in the torches around the shrine's pedestal were still found here, and they were the only light to be found aside from the barest glimpses of sunlight coming down from a few cracks in the overhead rocks. Ophilia looked up at the sunshine for a long moment before swallowing dryly and glancing around for the god that they would be taking up arms against next.

A man appeared in Ophilia's vision a few moments later. He was perhaps the tallest man Ophilia had ever seen, eclipsing even Olberic and Cyrus in verticality effortlessly. His skin was warm and tanned while his hair was dark and slicked back against his head. Everything about him was the picture of poise and grace. He wore black and gray armor that covered much of his body from view. A silver mask covered his face, and it looked almost like the face guard segment of a helm had been cut away from its base and attached to his features at the temples. His fingers were masked by dark brown gloves, and a deep blue sheath could be seen at his hip. When Ophilia's eyes shifted to the blade, she immediately felt something overwhelmingly powerful coming from it, and she knew that the sword at his side had to be the weapon that they would be granted. 

Brand. 

Ophilia wasn't sure where the assumption had come from, but she was certain that was who this was. Everything about him was the picture of power, and Ophilia found herself swallowing dryly. Legends of the times of the gods had said that Brand and Winnehild were melee warriors unparalleled, and here they were, about to fight against the first of the two. Ophilia had no idea how they were going to pull this off, but she didn't let her stress show on her face. Instead, she simply tucked the Lanthorn out of view and reached for the Illumination Staff, clutching at it with everything she had.

"Hail travelers,"  came Brand's deep voice. It echoed on all sides, and Ophilia swallowed dryly at the sound to try and ground herself. "Thou hast come a long way to reach me... I am Brand, the god of the earth."

Ophilia nodded at his words, and she could hear the others preparing for the battle ahead behind her. Olberic was the first to speak, though Ophilia didn't know where he was able to find the confidence to push the words out into the heavy silence. "I've always believed that a fight can tell you more about a person than words could ever imagine," he started simply. 

A small trace of a smile appeared on Brand's lips, and he nodded his agreement before reaching for his blade. When the sword was fully in view of the torchlit battlefield, Ophilia found herself even more sure than before that it was the divine weapon of the warrior god. The hilt seemed to be carved from the strongest of diamonds that had ever been found, and the blade shone with a black obsidian that made her stomach do flips. He was going to be every bit the warrior that the legends had made him out to be, and she had no idea how she was supposed to go up against that. 

Still, she knew that she had to try, and Ophilia gripped tightly at her staff while waiting for someone to make the first move. In the end, it was Alfyn, who created a pillar of ice around Brand's feet in an attempt to trap the god where he stood. Brand's reflexes were much too fast for this to work though, and he jumped backwards out of the way before Alfyn's plan could succeed. His expression had gone from a playful smirk to something much darker, and Ophilia recognized it as the battle ready glare that Olberic wore just before an important bout of combat. Perhaps the two were more similar than she had initially assumed. 

Speaking of Olberic, he was the next one to lash out, and he dashed in Brand's direction with his sword at the ready. Brand stepped out of the way and prepared to slash at Olberic's midsection with his blade, but the warrior had other plans in mind. Instead of allowing his momentum to be his downfall, he used to to his advantage, tempering his speed as he pivoted on one foot and slashed at Brand's back. 

The god was able to throw up his sword to take the force of the blow, though it was clear that he had been caught by surprise. His sword clashed fiercely with Olberic's blade, and the two were locked in a stalemate for a few harrowing seconds. Ophilia's mind finally seemed to snap into place from there, and she pointed the Illumination Staff in Brand's direction, creating a column of light around his feet. He noticed what she was doing though, and he launched himself out of the way at the last moment. 

Brand was left in a crouching formation after he escaped Ophilia's attack, but that left him in the perfect line of fire for a combined attack from Primrose and Therion. Dark magic mixed with fire to spiral in his direction, and Brand attempted to spring out of the way once more. Unfortunately, he was half a second too late, and the darkness clipped his leg while the fire hit him in the shoulder. Brand threw up his sword defensively when another strike came in his direction. This time, it was Tressa, who was attempting to take advantage of Primrose and Therion's strike to get in a hit of her own. Wind rushed in Brand's direction, but his sword was able to take the brunt of the blow, allowing him to continue standing tall and proud. 

Cyrus flicked his wrist firmly in Brand's direction, and the god jumped out of the way of what he assumed was going to be a magical attack. However, it was not the element that he had been expecting given the Tome of Tundras in Cyrus' hand. Instead, a swift strike of lightning rained down on him from behind, and Brand let out a small groan of pain at having been caught off guard.

He was left stumbling for a few precious seconds, and that small handful of moments was everything H'aanit needed to rush up behind him with her axe at the ready. She charged the steel with the thunderous energy she had learned to use so many years ago, and with that, she slashed at the vulnerable position exposed by Cyrus' attack. Brand turned around to face her as he grappled against the pain, but he was cut off when Therion rushed at him with his knife at the ready. Before Brand could do anything to strike the thief though, Therion had taken advantage of the dark magic skills he had picked up on from Primrose. The shadows closed in on him, and before anyone could register what was happening, he had dashed out of the line of fire. 

Brand was more than able to block the next attack though, and once again, his foe was Olberic. The warrior had opted to use a spear instead for this strike, and the sword clashed fiercely against the lance. The sound of clanging steel echoed throughout the cave, and each ring seemed to linger in Ophilia's mind for much longer than it should have. She could do little more than watch Brand and Olberic clash, though the latter clearly had the upper hand. His lance was longer than Brand's sword by just enough that he was able to stay out of the immediate range of danger while still raining in blows against the god.

Unfortunately, Brand's defenses were much stronger than any of them could have expected, and he didn't seem to be taking much damage from the physical blows Olberic was giving him. He seemed more than ready to shrug everything off, as a matter of fact, as if he wasn't the target of any attacks to begin with. Brand's sword flashed dangerously as he did his best to hold off Olberic's attacks, though there was still something dangerous gleaming against his gaze that Ophilia could see even though his eyes were hidden by his mask. He had a plan, and none of them were going to be ready for it. 

Sure enough, Brand managed to get in a lucky blow to the base of Olberic's lance that forced the warrior backwards, and that was all the god needed to prepare his next attack. He slammed one foot into the ground, and the earth beneath everyone's feet began to shake. Ophilia nearly fell over from shock, and she wished there was something for her to grab onto. In the end, she found herself stumbling into H'aanit, though the huntress was more than able to keep herself upright without consequence. H'aanit's eyes were trained solely on Brand, and everything about her seemed confused no matter how much she tried to hide it. 

Ophilia looked back to the god as soon as she was able to get a grip on her senses once again, and she couldn't have stifled the gasp that pushed free of her lips even if she wanted to. The earth had bent itself under Brand's whims, and the rocks of the shrine's floor had risen up to grab at Olberic's legs, forcing the warrior to stand in place. He struggled against the rock, but he wasn't able to break free until Brand dashed up to him and reared one fist back. The punch Brand delivered to Olberic's chest made a clapping sound that echoed throughout the darkness of the shrine, and Olberic flew backwards until he hit the railing that lined the battlefield, all of the wind knocked from his lungs in the blink of an eye. 

"What in the world?" Primrose asked softly as she watched Brand with cautious eyes. It took Ophilia a long moment even after Primrose had spoken to convince herself that what she had seen was real. Brand truly had managed to manipulate the earth and use it to keep Olberic at bay. How was that possible though? There were only six known elements of magic, and the manipulation of rock and stone was far from being involved with any of them. 

Cyrus seemed to be the only one who understood what was happening, and his eyes narrowed in quiet intensity. "I should have known it was going to come to this eventually... Back in Atlasdam, I was conducting research into the power of magic, and I realized that there were likely elements that had not yet been discovered or used by mortal hands yet. It seems that one of these elements is the power of earth, and Brand appears to have complete mastery over it as well."

Ophilia's mind felt like it was spinning out of control at those words. She had never imagined something like that would even be possible, but the more she thought about it, the more it made sense in a strange way she struggled to describe. Each of the twelve gods could have easily had an element affiliated with them, and that meant that mortals had only discovered half the elements of magic that they could use. Ophilia had grown up surrounded by magic because of her position in the church, but she still never could have imagined that her journey would lead her to an outcome like this. 

Unfortunately for her, she wasn't able to think about it for much longer than she already had. She jumped out of the way at the last minute to keep from being slashed by Brand's dark blade, and she realized just why the hilt of the sword looked like it was made of gemstones and rocks. That was Brand's element, and he was using the sword to funnel his earthen power into the world around him. If anything though, this revelation only hurt them more. That meant that Brand was going to have an even greater upper hand than any of them could have ever imagined, and the power of earth was just the tip of the iceberg in terms of his advantages. 

Brand swiped his sword at Ophilia once again, but he was cut off when ice suddenly mounted from the ground and caught the blade before it could strike at the cleric. Ophilia took this as her cue to scramble out of the way, and she realized that Alfyn was the one who had caught Brand off guard. He reached for his axe before he dashed up behind Brand with magic dancing along the surface of the weapon. He slashed with all the force he possessed, charging the blade with fire just before the strike sunk in. 

Brand wasn't able to turn around in time, and he took the hit hard. He let out a cry of pain before abandoning his grip on his sword. He jumped away before Alfyn could follow up with another attack, and H'aanit released an electric arrow in his direction a moment later. Brand was too disoriented to keep from being hit by it though, and in the end, the arrow clipped his shoulder. He stumbled backwards, his gaze clearly drifting to where his sword was lodged in the ice. There was too much distance between himself and the blade for him to reclaim it easily, and he could already tell that he was going to have to rely on his own strength in order to win this fight. 

Brand pressed his hands together in front of his chest, and a moment later, everything about him seemed to change. He had centered himself and brought his body new strength in the process, and Ophilia could already tell that he was going to start hitting a lot harder if he was given the chance to directly attack any of them. She did her best to bury her nerves as she once again sunk into a defensive stance. 

Brand lashed out with an earthen attack that seemed to be traveling towards the ice where his sword was being kept, likely because he was desperate to retrieve his blade once more. Unfortunately for him, Alfyn melted the ice before he had the chance to destroy the frozen barrier, and the blade was left to slide across the battlefield a few moments later. This took the sword even farther from Brand, and Tressa smirked as she realized that she was closest to it now. She shoved one hand in the direction of the sword, and the blade started to slide across the shrine once again. 

Olberic had managed to recover by this point, and he claimed the sword as soon as it was in his reach. He tested the weight of the weapon in his hand for a few moments before noticing the way that the hilt was made of gemstones and rocks. He had come to the same conclusion Ophilia had regarding the control of Earth, and while he was far from being the strongest mage among the group's members, he wasn't going to let that stop him now. 

Olberic shoved the blade into the ground, and rocks started to mount around the battlefield, pinning Brand in place before he had the chance to fight back. He broke free after just a few seconds though, showing off the power that he had gained in focusing his concentration completely. He dashed in Olberic's direction, ready to attack with a single punching attack. Olberic created a barrier of earth at the last minute to make sure that he didn't get hit, and Brand's knuckles made contact only with the stones. The god's expression twisted itself into a frown as he glanced around for another target. 

In the end, he set his gaze on Cyrus, and he punched at the air with as much force as he could muster. Rock fragments rose up from the ground and began to launch themselves at Cyrus. The scholar attempted to block the attack with an icy barricade, but he was never able to complete the spell before the rocks rocketed through his defenses and slammed him to the ground. He slid backwards for a short while before falling still, breathing heavily and clearly disoriented from the strike. 

Alfyn was quick to jump into the fray from there, creating a barrier himself to keep Cyrus safe while he ducked behind the shield and got to work on healing the scholar's injuries. Cyrus remained somewhat distant and unfocused throughout the process, and Ophilia took in a careful breath before allowing healing magic to fall over each member of the group. She could already tell that this next stage of the battle wasn't going to be easy, and they were going to need all the energy they could get. 

After all, they were fighting a god of earth, and they had to be ready for whatever happened next. 

Chapter Text

In light of Brand's newfound physical strength, the battlefield fell eerily silent for a brief handful of moments. Olberic's grip on his blade grew tighter as he watched the god carefully. He could tell that Brand was reaching the end of his energy. The magical hits he had sustained earlier had already started to take their toll on him, and it was just a matter of time before he started to completely crumble under the weight of the damage he had sustained. Olberic could tell that they just had to deal a bit more damage before the battle would be won. 

Of course, accomplishing that was bound to be much easier said than done. Brand's melee abilities were impressive as could be, and Olberic somehow doubted that their previous tricks of distracting the god were going to work out as well as they had previously. They were going to have to come up with something new, but that wasn't going to be easy as long as Cyrus, their main tactician, was out of commission for the next few minutes while Alfyn healed his wounds. Olberic was going to have to take command himself, and he could only hope that they were able to find a way around Brand's defenses. 

Brand held one hand out to the side, and he began to create a sword of stone from the small fragments of rock that had been left scattered throughout the arena. Because his blade had been stolen, he was being forced to improvise, and this was the best he was going to be able to do, at least for the time being. He wasn't going to be letting them win quite so easily, and he was making sure they knew it. 

Tressa pointed her spear in Brand's direction, and the wind around the travelers began to kick up before rushing towards him. It slammed into the man in an onslaught attack, and Brand stumbled backwards, though it didn't seem as if he had actually been hurt by the strike at all. If it had injured him, he was doing an impressive job of hiding it. He rolled out of the way when Tressa attempted to hit him with the wind once again, though for a brief flicker of a moment, his balance had been disturbed. 

Hägen was more than happy to take advantage of this, slamming into Brand quickly before the god had the chance to regain his sense of stability. Brand let out a small groan of surprise, not that the attack had done much damage. Still, it wasn't power that had fueled the strike; it was strategy. H'aanit had been the one to command Hägen to attack, and she took advantage of the benefit she had been granted to charge her axe with electricity before dashing in Brand's direction. 

The god attempted to throw up his sword to stop her from hitting him with the blade, but he was unable to fend her off completely. Instead, H'aanit managed to kick Brand's hand away, causing him to fumble with the blade for a brief moment. She struck as soon as the opportunity presented itself, and Brand was left to roar in pain at the sudden onslaught of pain rushing through his body. 

Therion was quick to follow up on what H'aanit was doing, and he charged his knife with fire magic before rushing up behind the god. He wasn't able to strike deeply, but he was more than fully capable of getting in a single attack. Luckily for him, that was all it took to leave Brand struggling to find his footing once again, stumbling for a few moments before he forced himself to his feet. 

Therion pulled his dagger out and attempted to duck out of the way of Brand's next punch. He was able to keep from being hit head on, albeit only barely, but the shockwave disturbed his balance. Therion's eyes went wide with the preparation of being hit once again, but he never felt the blow. Instead, a blast of wind knocked him out of Brand's danger zone, and Therion rolled before rising into a crouch. He glanced over and saw that Tressa had been the one responsible for blocking the wind that saved him. She nodded in his direction, and he returned the favor. 

Olberic noticed that Brand had been left shocked and caught off guard by Therion's sudden act of evasion, so he took the opportunity for what it was and started to dash in the god's direction. He swung the earthen blade he had stolen from Brand in a wide arc before the two began to clash once again. Still, the raw strength of Brand's weapon gave Olberic the burst of power he needed in order to push back until Brand had no choice but to stumble away. Olberic was silently impressed with just how strong the sword was, and he knew that it was a perfect match for its owner. 

Brand was left shaken for a blink of a moment after Olberic managed to shove him away, and the warrior took that chance to use the sword to his advantage. He turned the blade around so he was holding it by the sharpened obsidian steel before sweeping it beneath Brand's legs, stealing the man's feet from beneath him before he had the chance to respond. 

A moment later, Brand fell inelegantly to the ground below, his earthen sword immediately sliding away from him. Tressa was more than happy to pick it up, though she set it down once again a few moments later when she realized how heavy it was. Cyrus and Alfyn began to emerge from behind the wall of ice that they had been using as a makeshift barricade, and they glanced around the battlefield carefully. They had finished their other duties at the perfect time. 

Olberic pointed the earthen sword down at Brand, and the god smiled. "I yield." With that, he rose to his feet, and Olberic was more than happy to pull the blade away. He was on the verge of offering the weapon back to the god, but Brand shook his head. "Thou shouldst keep it. Considere it a sign of victory." The smile on his face told Olberic that the god of earth was not to be deterred, and he hesitated before nodding and looking down at the weapon carefully. 

"I have a few questions for you," Ophilia said carefully, breaking through the silence by some stroke of a miracle despite the slight waver to her voice. "I-If you don't mind my asking, that is."

Brand glanced over at her, noticing the Illumination Staff was still pressed between her fingers. He smiled kindly before nodding. "Go ahead." 

Ophilia swallowed dryly before looking over to the weapon of earth found in Olberic's hands. "Are there really other types of magic that have yet to be discovered?" she questioned, though the answer seemed clear as could be as long as she was willing to examine the battlefield. The rocky ground had been almost shredded by the fight, and the stone sword at Tressa's feet acted as further proof that this was very real, much more so than any of them could have imagined. 

Brand nodded. "Twelve elements of magic can be founden in this land. Mortals are aware of six... But there aren others waiting to be discovered," he replied. Olberic remembered what Cyrus had said earlier in the battle about his research into other types of magic, and he found himself wondering just what the scholar could have possibly found even before they ventured into this shrine. "As long as thou continueth thy path to meeten with the other gods, thou will learn the truth behinde the magic that has been lost to time."

"Can you teach us how to use earth magic?" Tressa asked as she slid the Tempest Spear back in its resting position. She looked up at Brand with all the admiration in the world shining in her young eyes. 

Brand nodded once again. "Before thou leaveth this place, I shalle granten thee the strength to use my power," he explained. "Usen this strength in tandem with the Sword of Stone to rescue this world from the darkness that hangeth above its head. I believe in you, as do the rest of the gods." 

Light started to flicker from the air, and Olberic immediately felt different in a way that he struggled to describe. The sensation was not entirely unfamiliar when compared to the blessings of the previous gods, but something about it still felt different. If he had to guess, he would have said that it was because of the power of earth magic that was now rushing through his body. It would take a while for them to all get used to the new strength they had been given, but Olberic knew they would get there eventually. 

From there, the light started to expand, and when Olberic next came back to reality, he realized that they were standing in the shrine once more. He pulled his hand away from the stone carving that had allowed them to enter the battlefield plane to begin with, and his fingers drifted to the blade at his hip. The Sword of Stone had replaced his previous weapon, and the old blade was sitting on the floor in front of his feet. He leaned down to pick it up before handing it to Tressa, who appraised the weapon before sliding it in Therion's direction. The thief was more than happy to accept it, and he was quick to swap it out with his other much weaker sword. 

"Well, I suppose that finishes our business here," Ophilia remarked. "We should get going to Stonegard. The sooner we can settle down there, the better off we're going to be." She glanced around the rest of the group for any signs of an objection, but when nobody protested her suggestion, she nodded to herself and started to walk towards the door, everyone else following carefully in her footsteps. 

Olberic took up the rear of the group, and he found himself desperate to use the Sword of Stone in combat outside of the battle against Brand. It was going to take him some time to get used to the sensation of a new weapon in his hands, but he knew that he was going to have to adapt to it sooner rather than later. After all, the Sword of Stone was much stronger than any weapon he had ever seen before, and he had encountered his fair share of incredibly powerful blades. In fact, the Sword of Stone seemed to eclipse even the other godly weapons in terms of raw physical strength. The others were all slightly skewed towards magical power, but the Sword of Stone was the opposite on top of giving him full access to the control of earth. 

It was still strange for him to think that there were other elements of magic that had not been uncovered previously. He hadn't ever been knowledgeable when it came to magaic prior to meeting the other travelers, but he had come to accept that there were six elements up until that fight against Brand. He could tell that earth magic was going to come much simpler to him than any other element had previously, and he could only hope that he was able to master it sooner rather than later. After all, he could tell that he was going to need all the strength the sword and its earthen power were going to be able to offer him, especially if the two powers were working together. 

When Olberic stepped out into the sunshine once again, he raised one hand to block out the light from his eyes. Behind him, the entrance to the shrine started to slide shut, and he heard the doors close with a small groan of the earth. Olberic took a careful breath before looking to the other travelers. Tressa was the one with the map, so she would be the person leading them to Stonegard from there. 

The rest of the journey ultimately passed in silence, though Olberic could tell what was on everyone's mind. Cyrus was trying to learn more about the magical powers that had been locked away from humans up to that point, murmuring to himself so softly that nobody could fully understand his words. He hadn't found any answers yet, but Olberic knew it was just a matter of time before Cyrus figured out what was happening. After all, if there was anyone who would be able to uncover the truth behind the magic of the past, it would be Cyrus. 

Ophilia was clearly wondering about it as well, and she seemed much more focused than she had been previously. In fact, everyone seemed to be doing much better. Olberic could only imagine that this was because they had managed to get away from Goldshore where they could still feel Vanessa's influence. Her actions still hung heavily over all their heads, but they were slowly but surely stepping away from her. Stonegard was a fresh start for all of them, and if all went according to plan, then it would be the next step to them never having to think about Vanessa again. 

The grounds of the Highlands left Olberic wondering just how powerful the magic of earth could possibly be, and he watched the gray rocks sprawl around him silently. He had never imagined that a human would be capable of manipulating stone in such a way, but he knew that Brand had been honest when he said that he was going to bestow the travelers with such strength. As soon as Olberic put his mind to it, he would be able to figure out what he was meant to be doing with the earth. Of course, he didn't have that chance yet, so all he could do was wait. 

When Stonegard appeared over the horizon, Tressa started walking a bit faster, and everyone else was quick to increase their speed to catch up to her. Olberic was the last to arrive at the town despite this, but once he was within Stonegard's limits, he found himself letting out a heavy sigh as he glanced around the area. 

The first thing he noticed was just how much larger Stonegard was compared to Cobbleston. It wasn't as if Olberic was any stranger to larger towns; after all, Hornburg had been one of the largest civilizations on Orsterra, and he had lived there for two and a half decades before he was forced to flee. Still, after all his years spent in Cobbleston, it was strange to see a Highlands town that was so expansive across the gray stones of the Highlands. 

Even if Stonegard was larger than Cobbleston though, it wasn't quite as large as Hornburg had been. Stonegard was bustling, but it was slower than Hornburg had been, like everyone was infected with a quiet sense of sleepiness that they struggled to fully articulate. The town almost moved in slow motion, and Olberic had to wonder if it was a trick on his mind or if everything truly was more relaxed than it had been back in Goldshore. Either way, he knew that he couldn't get distracted by that; they had a mission to take care of, and it would be best if their search for information about Z'aanta started as soon as possible. He had been missing for long enough, and this was the best lead they had when it came to finding him. 

"We should probably start by finding the inn so we can drop off all our stuff," Alfyn pointed out. He still didn't seem to be entirely focused on the present after what had happened in Goldshore, but he was doing a better job than he had been previously of keeping himself grounded. He gestured for everyone to follow him as he started to walk through the city streets, asking who he could about details regarding the inn. 

Olberic didn't bother to listen to what Alfyn was saying in full. Instead, he simply pressed his eyes shut, and as the wind blew around him, he wondered where all the time had gone. He wasn't sure why Stonegard reminded him so much of Hornburg. Stonegard had taken the position Hornburg had previously filled of being the largest city within the Highlands, but the two settlements weren't all that much alike. Despite this though, Olberic's mind refused to stop reminding him of everything that had happened since he was last home. So much had changed in the last ten years, and it felt like everything was just continuing to change no matter how hard he tried to fight it. 

Not that long ago, he had been in Cobbleston living the life of a hedge knight. He defended the people from anything they needed protection from, and it was a simple life. He didn't know what he was supposed to be doing with his life, but it was enough to keep him alive for a little while longer, and that had been enough for him at the time. Everything had changed so quickly when bandits arrived in the town, and from there, it was like the pieces all fell into place for him to travel with the rest of the group. 

Olberic would have been lying if he said that all of his problems had been solved by now. That couldn't have been further from the truth. Traveling with the others in the party was nice, and he certainly enjoyed it, but he had no idea if this was what he was meant to be doing. There had been a time when he was sure that defending Hornburg was all that he would ever do with his life, and he had been satisfied with the security. That was when times were simple, back before Erhardt had stabbed him in the back before claiming the life of the man they had once both sworn to protect. These days, it seemed like nothing was simple. 

Olberic knew that they were going to be arriving in Victors' Hollow eventually. The tournament was fast approaching--something he had heard from Alfyn while they were back in Noblecourt--and it wouldn't be much longer before he faced off against the one who might be able to point him in the right direction to find Erhardt. The entire group was getting closer to Victors' Hollow too, and it was just a matter of time before they were faced with everything that would reveal the truth behind Olberic's purpose. 

But would it really be that simple? He had been waiting for ten years now, trying to find something that made sense amid the fog that had come to coat his mind inside out, and yet, he never seemed to get any closer to the truth than he had been previously. There was always something that stopped him, and there was no easy way for him to push through it and find the truth he had been looking for. Traveling with the other members of the group made it easier for him to survive his stifling lack of purpose, but it still felt like he was missing out on so much. Would he ever be able to return to the way he had been before? Would he ever find a reason to swing his blade after everything had been stolen from beneath his feet?

If there was one thing Olberic could say for sure, it was that he certainly preferred traveling with the rest of the group to being alone. It was taking some getting used to, yes, but he was happy to have others around him that he could count on. He was still hesitant to talk to them about personal matters, but he knew that when he was ready to start sharing how he felt, they would all be more than happy to listen. They had supported themselves and each other through good times and bad, and if there was anyone Olberic would be able to rely on no matter what, he knew that it was them. Still, that did little to lessen the hole that seemed to be steadily tearing apart the inside of his body, and he could only hope that the darkness he didn't even fully understand was slow enough to not find victory until he could determine his purpose. 

Olberic only came back to reality when he felt a small tap on his shoulder. He looked down to see Primrose looking up at him with those eyes that struck him to the very core. She understood him much better than she was willing to admit, and he really wished that she didn't see the truth of his demeanor. Of course he didn't want to confess to the fact that she knew the truth he was running from each and every day. She was searching for her own purpose too, and she could see the look in his eyes that told her it would be a while before he was able to find solid ground to stand on. 

"Alfyn found the inn and managed to get us a discount," Primrose told him, though the words were distant and echoed in Olberic's mind. He didn't exactly hear what she was saying, and it took a moment for her words to catch up with him. She seemed to be able to see it as well, and when she smiled, the motion was quietly remorseful and bitter. They both had no idea what they were doing with their lives, but they had found some lingering traces of purpose in the other members of the group. It wasn't much yet, but they would reach that point eventually. Olberic had no idea how they were going to hold on long enough to find the answers they were looking for, but he knew they would figure it out soon enough. All they had to do was be patient. 

Luckily for Olberic, patience was his specialty, and he nodded at Primrose as soon as he was able to force himself to understand what she was saying. "Thank you," he said, though he wasn't entirely sure what he was thanking her for. 

Primrose seemed to understand though, and she hummed to herself with a nod before starting to walk after the other members of the group. Olberic took up the rear of the party, his hand drifting absentmindedly to the blade at his hip. The Sword of Stone had a different feel to it when compared to every other blade he had ever used before, but something about it was welcome. If he was thinking about the gift Brand had provided him, then he couldn't wonder what the hell his purpose in life was supposed to be. It was a distraction as well as a weapon, and heaven knew Olberic could use both as long as he was on this path.

The process of filing into the inn both passed in the blink of an eye and was all too slow for Olberic, not that he could particularly say why. Time seemed to be an afterthought then more than ever, and he wondered why he was suddenly unable to keep track of the minutes going by after he had spent so many years overly aware of how much the world was changing around him. The easiest way to put it was that he had changed whether he wanted to acknowledge it or not. This was the manifestation of his evolution, and he had no choice but to admit it given the circumstances. 

As usual, Olberic found himself sharing a room with Cyrus, though Olberic had to admit that he was impressed when he heard just how low the price was for the inn room. He had been sure that the inn would charge much more for the four rooms, and yet, they had managed to get away with paying a shockingly low amount. Olberic supposed that the reason he was wondering about that was because he knew what inn prices were in Hornburg, and they had been much higher back in the day. It wasn't as if he had much of a reason to stay in an inn while he was living there, but he had heard more than enough from the visitors that came in from outside of the city-state to speak with the king. 

Oh, how the mighty fell. 

Olberic sat down on his bed and began to unpack his things, not that he was particularly thinking about what was happening. He could feel Cyrus' eyes on him, and he knew that the scholar was wondering what he was struggling with in the silence. Unfortunately, Olberic wasn't in much of a mood to talk or admit to the truth, so the room remained quiet aside from the gentle shuffling of the two men. 

He shouldn't have been so bothered by this place. Stonegard wasn't Hornburg, and it never would be. Stonegard had never tried to be like Hornburg either. He should have been able to ignore the similarities and continue going about his life, but instead, he felt like he couldn't help comparing the city around him to everything that he had known before his world crumbled to pieces. It didn't make much sense, but it wasn't as if Olberic made much sense as a whole these days. That ship had more than sailed ages upon ages ago. 

"Is something the matter?"

The silence was getting to be too much for Cyrus, and Olberic looked up slowly to see the scholar watching him carefully. Olberic hesitated before shaking his head. "Nothing is wrong," he said, though the word tasted like a lie on his tongue despite his attempts to push it all away. Cyrus knew that he was lying through his teeth, and it was just a matter of time before the scholar proved perfectly that he could read Olberic like a book. 

Cyrus paused for a long moment, seemingly able to start putting the pieces together. Of course he was able to do something like that. It would have been too good for Olberic if Cyrus was ignorant on the matter. Cyrus may have not been the best with emotions, but he was still incredible when it came to logic puzzles, and what was bothering Olberic seemed to fall into the latter category. 

"I never had the chance to visit Hornburg," Cyrus admitted as he sat down on his own bed. "Still, I learned much about it, and I know that it was an immensely impressive city. Anyone would be proud to be from there."

Olberic looked down at his hands, desperate to find a distraction within the creases of his palms. "I got used to Cobbleston," he confessed before he could stop himself from speaking. "I was accustomed to it, and even if it was in the Highlands... The town was much too small to be like Hornburg."

"But since Hornburg has fallen, Stonegard has become the largest city of the Highlands," Cyrus finished for him, and Olberic nodded. Cyrus paused for a moment, no doubt fumbling for the words that would make the situation easier to resolve for both of them. "I'm sorry it all happened this way."

"Me too," Olberic murmured, unsure as to what else could even be said. He had been sorry for his failures every single day for the last ten years, but it was never quite enough for him to keep himself held together. Too much had changed, and he didn't know how he was supposed to return to the way he had been before when he was constantly walking a thin line of danger and breakdown. 

"If you need to step away at any point during our mission to collect your thoughts, I would be more than happy to join you," Cyrus assured him. "I have no doubt that H'aanit will understand. I know that being here is difficult for her as well considering the fact that this is the last place anyone saw her master."

Olberic nodded, and he pretended to not see the parallels between himself and H'aanit. They were vague lines, but he was still fully aware that they existed. They had lost the ones they admired so much, and said idols had gone missing in large cities within the Highlands. The difference was that Z'aanta had the chance to be alive, and Olberic was hoping with everything he had that H'aanit's master was still out there somewhere. He wanted to believe for her sake, and he knew that everyone else did too. 

He would never admit it out loud, but Olberic wanted Z'aanta to be alive so that he could do something to help the man H'aanit admired so much. He was desperate to succeed as much as he could to make up for his past failures in Hornburg, and coming to Stonegard had only renewed such sensations much to his distaste. He hadn't felt this way so intensely in years, but he couldn't seem to escape it while he was in Stonegard around the other members of the group. 

This was where he belonged, but he still barely understood what a home or a sense of belonging was supposed to mean anymore. That ship had sailed years ago, and he had no idea how to find the middle ground between his past and the path he was taking towards the future. 

"Do you want to talk?" Cyrus asked after a brief lapse of silence between them. Olberic could feel the scholar's eyes piercing through his body, and the worry that neither one of them understood hung heavily in the air, dense enough that no blade could pull it apart. 

For a long time, Olberic didn't respond, instead simply swallowing dryly. "I want to just sit here for a moment," he eventually forced himself to say. 

Cyrus nodded and looked up to the ceiling of the inn room. "That's perfectly fine."

Chapter Text

H'aanit didn't know what she expected from Stonegard. 

H'aanit had heard grand tales throughout her youth of Z'aanta's past adventures across the continent as a hunter for hire. Countless people had come to know his name because of his raw skill when it came to a bow and arrow, and that meant that there were whispers of his actions across every corner of Orsterra. He had become a bit more stationary when he first took in H'aanit what felt like a lifetime ago, but she had still been raised in his words of whimsy regarding the rest of the world. She had never been given the chance or the reason to leave S'warkii, but the tales Z'aanta wove made her feel as if she was being transported across the universe whenever he spoke. 

Reality was far from matching the brave tales Z'aanta told her though, and as H'aanit examined Stonegard silently, she couldn't help wondering how he would have romanticized a place like this. Z'aanta had told her about Stonegard before, yes, but times had chanced since he last told her what the region was like. The Stonegard H'aanit saw before her was nothing like what Z'aanta had once told her it would be like. 

As soon as the group settled down at the inn, H'aanit set out for her search of the town. She moved first to the entrance of Stonegard, Linde and Hägen both hot on her heels. She could feel Hägen's anxiety, and she was practically waiting for the wolf to start whimpering and leaning against her out of concern. It wasn't as if she could blame him; he missed Z'aanta more than anyone else, and now that they were finally close enough to embrace the truth, it was only natural that he grew on edge. 

H'aanit unfurled the letter that she had received from Z'aanta so long ago, and she read the familiar words to herself. She had looked over the page what felt like a thousand times by this point, but she still found herself wondering if perhaps some new truth would make itself apparent to her if she watched the paper in just the right way. As was to be expected, nothing changed, and H'aanit was left to conduct her search for answers the old fashioned way. 

"Stonegard. This is where Master said he would sojourn," H'aanit murmured to herself, trying to ignore the way that her chest seemed to flutter and rattle with excitement and anxiety. At long last, it felt like answers were in her reach. Something had gone wrong, but she was still hoping that perhaps she would find Z'aanta under unassuming circumstances that proved all of her fears to be misplaced. If that was the case, Z'aanta would no doubt receive an earful as soon as H'aanit silently expressed just how relieved she was to see him again. Still, there was no way of saying for sure yet, and so, H'aanit's heart continued to whisper of fears she prayed were baseless.

H'aanit turned towards Hägen once again, a frown on her face. "Well, Hägen? Dost thou perceiven his scent?" she questioned of him carefully, knowing that Hägen understood the words even with the communication barrier brought on by being of different species. The wolf paused for a moment before letting out a small growl, though it sounded more confused and lost than anything else. In other words, there was something wrong here that upset Hägen more than H'aanit could have ever expected. Something about Stonegard was confusing Hägen, almost as if he felt more lost than ever before when they were close as could be to finding the truth about what had happened to Z'aanta. 

If Hägen wasn't going to be able to figure out the truth though, then that left the job to H'aanit, not that this at all surprised her. She folded the letter and tucked it away as she spoke. "Thou hast done well to bringen us here. Now it is my turn to leaden the hunt," she murmured. She glanced up at the streets of Stonegard before her and resisted the urge to wince. H'aanit didn't know what she had been anticipating to find when they arrived here, but she certainly hadn't thought Stonegard would be this... Large. Z'aanta had never described it as being this massive when he told stories of his exploits, and H'aanit could only imagine that the city had seen significant expansion in the aftermath of Hornburg's fall. After all, there were many Highlands citizens left displaced by the coup, and it was only natural that they would go to the nearest settlement with a definite promise of safety. 

Unfortunately, knowing this did little to lessen the burden that had been placed so unceremoniously on H'aanit's shoulders. "But this is a large and sprawling settlement, not like our forest home," H'aanit went on. Almost as if responding to her words, Linde let out a small whimper, and H'aanit smiled before reaching out one hand to stroke at her snow leopard's head. "Now, now, child. Thou needst not fear. We will asken the people. Someone is bound to knoweth of Master." Linde responded by shifting her head to nudge gently at H'aanit's fingers, and the huntress let out a small chuckle. "I am glad thou agreest. Now, where to beginen the search?"

It only took a moment of consideration for H'aanit to have her answer, and she shook her head at the revelation. "The alehouse, of course. If Master is known anywhere in this town, it would be there," she muttered. She had gotten on his case about it countless times in the past, but now, she was just grateful to have a good enough grasp on his habits to know something like that. Hopefully, that would be all she needed to know in order to find a concrete lead. 

"You learn fast."

H'aanit perked up at the sound of a familiar voice, and she glanced over to see Therion taking a bite of an apple as he leaned against the wall of the inn. It was almost impressive how quickly and effortlessly he was able to find an apple to steal whenever they arrived in a new town, not that he seemed to mind her judgement at all. Luckily for him, H'aanit knew talking about that would hardly help her situation, so she did her best to brush it off, moral objections aside. "What dost thou need?" H'aanit questioned.

"I was wondering where you went, though I suppose I'm not surprised to see you here," Therion replied. "You're trying to find answers. Everyone else wants to tag along too. Give it a few minutes, and they'll be out here."

H'aanit nodded. She hadn't been deliberately attempting to exclude any of them from her search; the truth was quite the contrary, in fact. Her hope had been to get a head start on the search while they were finishing with unpacking, though she supposed that they were just as eager to find answers as she was. At the very least, Therion wanted to get involved, and H'aanit was willing to consider that a blessing given his less than fortunate words from Bolderfall. It was a step in the right direction, not that H'aanit was willing to say as much to his face. It would only risk creating a rift between them once more, and that was hardly a chance she could take. 

"Make it right now!"

The inn door swung open a moment later, and Tressa walked outside with a grin on her face. The other travelers were hot on her heels, though Tressa was clearly the one with the most energy of the team. She glanced over to H'aanit as she curled her fingers around the straps of her bag. "So... Where are we heading first for the search?" 

"The tavern," H'aanit replied as she glanced up to a small outcropping of a landing that overlooked the entrance of the town. The tavern was close enough to the front of Stonegard that she could see its chimney peering out above the gray rocks of the town, and she nodded to herself before starting to walk in the direction of the stairs that would take her there. 

The path to the tavern was a simple one, and Linde and Hägen spent the entire time leaning close to H'aanit like they thought she would be able to protect them from everything that was strange about the city. Something was off about Stonegard to them, and Hägen was confused because of Z'aanta's scent. H'aanit couldn't tell if that was because Hägen was smelling Z'aanta everywhere or if the situation simply hadn't been compliant with what the direwolf had been expecting. Either way, this wasn't going to be easy, and she knew what had to be done. 

When the group entered the tavern, eyes shifted in their direction briefly, but they weren't the center of attention for long. The other occupants of the alehouse were quick to return to their own business, but there was one exception. A man was standing behind the bar and cleaning out a glass with a faded white rag. His gaze fell to Therion briefly, and something that looked vaguely like recognition flashed in his eyes. In other words, H'aanit was sure that Therion had been here before even if he was hesitant to admit it aloud. 

H'aanit approached the man before stopping in front of the counter, and he watched her carefully as he cleaned the glass. "What can I do for ye, lassie?" he questioned, his voice low and rolling. 

H'aanit was on the verge of simply asking him for information, but she was cut off by the smell of stew wafting through the air and gently kissing at her nose. She glanced behind the counter to see that a pot was being cooked over the fireplace, and she smiled before sliding into a stool in front of the counter. "A bowl of that broth, if thou wouldst. And answeren me a question," she replied. Linde and Hägen adapted to her sudden change of position quickly, both curling around her legs out of desperation to be near something, anything, that they knew as familiar. 

The barkeeper nodded as he turned around and slid the glass back in its home on the third shelf of a cabinet behind the counter. "The broth is easy enough. As for answers, ye'll 'ave to ask the question 'fore I can tell ye if I 'ave any," he told her easily before moving to prepare the soup H'aanit had requested. 

"Knowest thou of a hunter named Z'aanta? I believe he sojourned here some moons ago..." H'aanit said, her words trailing off as the uncertainty started to sink in. What was she going to do if he didn't have the answers she was looking for? She had no idea, but she didn't even want to entertain the idea for a moment.

The man thought for a long moment as he filled H'aanit's bowl, and he slid it across the counter to her as he spoke. "Aye, I know 'im. But I ain't seen 'im around for a spell now," he answered. "'Eard 'e'd taken to visitin' a woman named Natalia. She's got a 'ouse on the edge o' town."

H'aanit frowned as she took her first spoonful of soup. She had never heard the name Natalia come up in Z'aanta's past tales of his adventures across Orsterra, so she could only assume that the two of them had met when Z'aanta was in town recently. In other words, as soon as she found Natalia, she may have the path forward she needed to find Z'aanta. 

"I thanke thee, good man," H'aanit told him with a nod before she looked back to her food. As soon as she was finished, they would be able to leave and find this Natalia person. Given how good Alfyn and Cyrus were at getting information out of people, they would likely have a way forward before H'aanit knew it. 

The huntress had focused her attention on her soup by the time the barkeep saw recognition flash in his eyes once more, though it had nothing to do with Therion this time. The gears were turning in his head, and he took a step closer to H'aanit a moment later, albeit somewhat hesitantly. "If ye don't mind me pryin', lassie..." H'aanit glanced up when he paused, and he examined her carefully before continuing. "Ye don't 'appen to be 'is prentice, do ye?"

H'aanit simply nodded. "I am."

The man's face shifted into a smile, and he let out a small chuckle. "I knew it! Used to talk 'bout ye all the time, 'e did, when 'e was in 'is cups," he explained. "A prentice who's nothin' like 'im. Strict an' straight as an arrow! No time for foolishness an' folly, 'e'd say. Soon as ye mentioned 'is name, I reckoned ye was one and the same, what with ye matchin' 'is description an' all."

For a long moment, all H'aanit could do was stare at the man, and he almost seemed ready to squirm under her gaze. She shook her head and looked back to her broth, choosing to not acknowledge openly how Z'aanta had seemingly been talking about her. She had no idea what he had said, but she didn't think it was entirely her business to find out either. Still, it was in line with his personality, that was for sure, the first trace of humanity that H'aanit had found on the trail yet, and she was more than willing to take that for what it was. "I'll take that as a compliment," she finally forced herself to say before she raised her spoon to her lips once again. 

The barkeep chuckled a bit at that. "Will ye, now?"

Before H'aanit had the chance to say much of anything in response, Hägen began to rise to his feet, his ears twitching. She glanced down at him, on the verge of posing a question about what had gotten into him, but he started to pad towards the door a moment later. Tressa looked between H'aanit and the direwolf before her eyes settled on the door, and she realized that the wolf was going to scratch a hole through the wood if she didn't do something. The merchant winced before letting Hägen walk outside. Linde paused in contemplation for a moment before following him, and H'aanit felt her stomach begin to churn. It wasn't like Hägen or Linde to run off like that. Something had to be happening, and she wasn't about to let it pass her by. 

Luckily for her, it didn't take long for her to finish off her soup. She lifted the bowl to her lips before drinking, and the food was gone in a matter of minutes. She reached into her bag and pulled out a few leaves before sliding them across the counter to the barkeep alongside a hefty tip. "I thanke thee," she told him with a bow of her head. 

The man smiled at that and nodded. "'Ave a nice day, lassie," he instructed as he accepted the leaves and returned to his work, retrieving the bowl and starting to clean it in the same rhythmic fashion he had polished the cup previously. H'aanit gave him one final nod before she rose to her feet and turned towards the door, the rest of the travelers hot on her heels. 

When H'aanit arrived outside, Hägen was gone, but Linde was standing at the entrance of the tavern. She was riddled with anxiety, practically unable to keep still as her eyes followed the direction Hägen had disappeared in. She whimpered as soon as she saw H'aanit, silently urging the huntress to follow Hägen as soon as possible. 

That was more than enough of a cue for H'aanit, and she nodded to herself before trailing after Linde. Behind her, the rest of the travelers, followed, though Cyrus managed to catch up with H'aanit thanks to his grand strides. H'aanit barely even noticed his presence though, instead much more focused on the peculiar behavior of her direwolf companion. "Whyever didst Hägen reacten in such a manner?" she murmured to herself, hoping that the answer would come as soon as possible. 

"An astute question," Cyrus commented from her side. He was quiet for a moment before he continued. "If I may posit... Hägen is of a species known as the direwolf, yes?" H'aanit nodded. "It is said that a wolf's sense of smell is one hundred million times more sensitive than that of man... And among wolves, direwolves have the most sensitive noses of all."

H'aanit watched Cyrus in silence as the scholar lifted one hand to cup at his chin. "I would posit that when he entered the city, he was overwhelmed by all the smells common to such a bustling center of activity," he went on. "And yet, of all those odors, he would be most sensitive to those he is most familiar with. Namely, the scent belonging to..."

"Master," H'aanit finished. She had assumed that was the case when they first entered the city, but having Cyrus' backing on the matter only made her more confident in her conclusion. "OF course. Then we must maken haste."

Cyrus nodded before speeding up his walk after Linde, and H'aanit fell silent from his side. H'aanit could feel her heart skipping beats in her chest, and she wondered just what specifically would have caused Hägen to respond so suddenly. She hadn't seen him this way before, and she could only imagine that it was because of him knowing something about Z'aanta. He had been here, and it seemed that Hägen had picked up on the scent, regardless of how old it was, while they were in the tavern. It made sense that he would find answers there of all places; after all, Z'aanta had frequented alehouses for as long as H'aanit could remember, so if there were going to be traces of his presence, it would be there. 

H'aanit was on the verge of theorizing more when she was able to catch a glimpse of Hägen's shining gray fur. The wolf had lowered himself into a defensive stance as he looked up at a man wearing a guard's uniform. Hägen was growling, no doubt upset that somebody had gotten in the way of his pursuit for answers regarding Z'aanta's current location. The guard, on the other hand, refused to bend the knee to Hägen's anger. "Shoo, ye mangy beast! Go on, bug off!" he announced, flicking his wrists in Hägen's direction with hopes that it would push the wolf away. 

Hägen's rage was tempered by this, but H'aanit could see that he was still upset beneath the surface. Hägen lowered his back side against the cobbled stones, glaring at the guard with everything he had. Behind the man, another pair of people could be seen. One of them appeared to be on the richer side given his exquisite red and golden clothing. His hair was blonde and combed perfectly, and every part of his appearance had been put together with the intentions of catching the eyes of others. Still, there was an edge of cruelty to it that H'aanit struggled to define, and she found herself wondering perhaps out of fear if this man was going to act anything like what she had heard was second nature to Helgenish. 

There was a woman beside the man, though she clearly lacked the riches that he was so used to. Her hair was brown and fell gently in curls over her shoulders and upper back. Her dress was simple, made of deep red and white fabric that had been loved to the moon and back. She refused to meet the man's gaze, instead finding the ground beneath her feet to be much more interesting. H'aanit could sense her discomfort from a mile away, and she glared at the man beside her as he began to speak. 

"My dearest Natalia! What a delightful coincidence! Fancy running into you here," the man said with a smile. H'aanit perked up at the sound of the name she had been chasing, and she listened in a bit closer on what they were saying. 

The woman, Natalia, was much quieter when she responded to him, and she shifted uncomfortably on the spot to keep from looking the man in the eyes. "Aye, fancy that," she murmured. "I was just, ah, returning from the market." Sure enough, there were a few bags slung over her shoulders, and she was holding to them tightly. Her knuckles were turning white from the pressure, though H'aanit didn't think it had much to do with the physical weight on her shoulders. 

"Oh, but what a burden you are shouldering! My dear, you must allow me to deliver it for you," the man told her, reaching out for the bags that Natalia was gripping too so tightly. He pulled away a moment later before jabbing his thumb in the direction of the guard that had been harassing Hägen. "That is, I'll have my man here do it, naturally."

"I'm most honored, sir, but ye needn't," Natalia told him softly, still struggling to remain firm under his gaze. Behind H'aanit, Primrose was starting to glare at the man with everything she had, almost as if she was ready to march over to him and give him a piece of her mind before he could even process what was happening. 

"Milady, I insist! I could not forgive myself if you were to strain a muscle!" the man exclaimed. He reached out for the bags once again, though H'aanit noticed his fingers attempting to stray a bit longer than they probably should have. Natalia took a step back, a small frown lacing her features. 

A sigh reached H'aanit's ears from somewhere off to her left, and she glanced over to see a pair of townsfolk standing nearby and watching the scene play out from afar. Both of them were silently exasperated, and the taller of the two proved this by rolling his eyes as he spoke. "'Pon my honor, 'is worship never gives up, does 'e?"

The man at his side nodded. "Poor lass 'as caught the eye of the wrong sort. Bound t'appen, with 'er fair looks turnin' every man's 'ead," he agreed. At those words, H'aanit found her stomach churning once again, and she could feel Primrose's vengeful glare piercing the man standing next to Natalia. 

"Nathan's a wolf draped in silks, an' that soldier of 'is makes sure 'e don't fall afoul o' the 'usbands an' fathers," the first man remarked with a shake of his head. H'aanit committed the name to memory as much as possible, and she could feel Primrose doing the same behind her as the dancer reached for her dagger. 

"There ain't no refusin' 'im once 'e's got the scent. Remember the miller's daughter?" the second man questioned, his expression filling with something unreadable but negative. 

H'aanit crossed her arms stoically as she watched Nathan continuing to harass Natalia. All of a sudden, Hägen's behavior made sense. He knew this woman through Z'aanta, and he was trying to help her when he realized she was in distress. No wonder he had gotten so snappy with the guard. 

Hägen was still growling at the soldier when H'aanit walked up beside him and placed one hand on the direwolf's shoulder. Hägen calmed, albeit only slightly, but he continued to snarl at the man in steel before him. "Is that right, Hägen?" H'aanit questioned softly of the wolf, knowing that he already understood what she was trying to ask of him. The groan he made signaled his confirmation, and H'aanit nodded before glancing back to Natalia. "Then leten me helpen."

H'aanit glanced around the area, a frown on her face. She wouldn't be able to start a fight in the middle of town without drawing too much attention to herself. However, she might be able to find another way to frighten the soldier away. The man was watching Hägen warily, almost as if he was afraid of what the direwolf was going to do. Despite his impressive armor, the guard didn't seem to have much muscle on him, and H'aanit could already tell that he wasn't a skilled mage either. In other words, it should be easy enough to take advantage of his cowardice and force him to flee. 

Luckily for H'aanit, the man hadn't been paying much attention to Linde throughout all of this, and the huntress flicked her hand forward in the guard's direction. Linde immediately understood what this meant, and she pounced forward onto the ground just in front of the soldier. Hägen was quick to follow Linde's example, snarling and growling all the way.

The guard let out a scream as he stumbled backwards, almost falling over his own feet in the process. "A m-monster?! In the middle of town?!" he exclaimed, his fear getting the better of him before he could realize that the two creatures before him weren't planning on doing him any harm. The man turned on his heel and ran away through the streets of Stonegard, screaming the whole way. 

Nathan's attention was pulled away from Natalia at the sound, and he whirled to face the retreating guard. "Hey! Where are you going?! I paid good money for you!" Nathan roared angrily. He looked to Natalia before snarling to himself and running off after the guard, rage painted plainly on his expression. Natalia watched as Nathan's silhouette retreated before she let out a heavy sigh of relief, all of the weight immediately being lifted from her shoulders. 

Hägen began to pad over to her a moment later, and Natalia let out a gasp before setting her bags down on the ground. "Hägen! Where have ye been?" she asked, reaching out one hand to start stroking at the direwolf's head. Hägen immediately nuzzled up against her palm, and Natalia smiled down at him. "Ye left so sudden, and I've had no tidings of either of ye since." She paused before looking at Hägen solemnly. "Where is your master, Hägen? Where's Z'aanta?"

H'aanit stepped forward at that, and Hägen retreated from Natalia's fingers. "Thou must be Natalia. I neede speaken with thee," she began. 

Natalia looked her over with a wary and detached gaze, her frown beginning to grow deeper. "Oh? And who might ye be?"

"I am Z'aanta's prentice. I have traveled here from the Darkwood," H'aanit replied. Linde and Hägen sat on either side of her at the words, almost as if they were trying to prove the truth to Natalia. 

The woman's eyes went wide at H'aanit's declaration. "His prentice, ye say?" She paused as H'aanit nodded. "Then ye must be H'aanit. I've heard tell of ye."

"So Master spoke of me," H'aanit said simply. Once again, she chose not to acknowledge how this was the second time since her arrival in Stonegard less than two hours ago that she had heard of Z'aanta talking about her. It wasn't going to get her anywhere, though that didn't stop her curiosity. 

Natalia nodded. "Aye. Said you were a fine young huntress and learnin' fast, no matter his ham-fisted teaching," she replied. 

H'aanit crossed her arms in contemplation. "To raisen others whilst belittling himself," she murmured, admittedly unsure as to how she was meant to take the information of his praise. In the end, she shook her head and did her best to brush off her growing concerns for him. "That soundeth like Master."

Natalia laughed at that with a shake of her head. "Aye. He's a good man, but he's as guileless as a beet."

H'aanit smiled to herself. "Guileless... Yes. Fatuous, also, with a weakness for wine and dice," she remarked. She knew that Natalia was already aware of this truth, but she found herself speaking it regardless. In a strange way, it helped to comfort her, something she never saw coming. However, it also made H'aanit miss Z'aanta all the more, and the empty worry at her chest began to gnaw away at the rest of her body the instant she let her composure slip. "And yet... He is honest and noble and handleth a bow with the best of them."

Natalia grinned, and it seemed like she was glowing from her joy for a moment. "Aye, ye speak the truth there," she agreed. She nodded as she brought herself back down to earth. "So where is the old rascal? If Hägen's here, he can't be far."

Hägen let out a whimper, and H'aanit simply shook her head. "Hägen returnede to our village alone. I have come here in search of Master," she explained. 

Natalia let out a strangled yelp of surprise at that. "What?!" She took a step closer to H'aanit as pale fear etched itself across her features. "Good gods, has something happened to the man?!"

"I was hoping thou couldst helpen me answeren that," H'aanit said carefully. From either side of her, Linde and Hägen watched Natalia expectantly, both of them hoping that she would be able to do something to help.

Natalia was quiet for a long moment before she nodded. "I fear I may not be of much help, but I'm happy to tell ye all I know."

H'aanit was on the verge of thanking her before she caught wind of a passing conversation. She had gotten so caught up in her joy at finding Natasha that she had forgotten they were standing at the center of Stonegard still. "Can we talken at thine home?" she asked. Natasha nodded before leaning over to pick up her bags once again, but H'aanit didn't let her get far. "Leten me carrye some of that."

Natalia looked up at H'aanit before nodding. "Oh, why, thank ye." H'aanit took the bulk of the bags while Natalia claimed the remaining few, and once everything was settled, Natalia began to lead the way back to her home. She was almost out of earshot when H'aanit heard her speak once more. "Just like her Master."

Chapter Text

The path to Natalia's home was a simple one, and H'aanit found herself at the front of the party. Linde and Hägen remained close to her, but H'aanit could sense another presence drawing near. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Primrose, and H'aanit's gaze told the dancer to come closer. The huntress could tell that there was something more on Primrose's mind, and she wanted to do what she could to hear the other girl out on everything that plagued her. 

Primrose understood that H'aanit was listening as she fell into pace with her companion. Her hand was dancing around the hilt of her dagger, and her eyes were darker than H'aanit had seen them since Stillsnow. "The sheer nerve of that man!" Primrose muttered, her voice overwhelmed with rage. 

"Thou canst sayen that again," H'aanit agreed with a nod. She didn't know much about what happened with Helgenish and Primrose before she joined the party, but H'aanit could put the pieces together well enough to understand that it was nothing good. She wasn't about to push it any more than she absolutely had to. Primrose had shared as much as she was willing to, and H'aanit didn't want to make her uncomfortable in asking for more. 

Primrose's gaze was still filled with rage, something that only continued to feed H'aanit's suspicions that the Helgenish issue ran much deeper than Primrose was willing to say openly. "Consider yourself warned, H'aanit. Stay well clear of self-centered men," she said, her voice as dark as it was sage. 

H'aanit nodded as she adjusted Natalia's bags over her shoulder. "I have little experiences with menfolk. Aside from my master, of course," H'aanit explained. "But thou hast experience in abundance. Praye tellen me of their ways."

Primrose scoffed, her anger still clear as could be. "I suppose I know a thing or two," she remarked under her breath. She thought for a moment before adjusting herself, her fingers still dancing dangerously close to her dagger's hilt. "Alright. There are two kinds of men in this world. Those who devote time to their trade or calling, sparing little time for women..." Primrose glanced over to Cyrus and Olberic at that. Cyrus was examining Hägen from afar, murmuring something to himself about the curiosities of the direwolf. Olberic's hand rested on the handle of the sword he had received from Brand as he stared firmly ahead. 

Primrose glanced away from them a moment later, her eyes following the path that Nathan had taken when he fled from Hägen and Linde. "And those that have little time for work, but plenty for pleasure," she finished, her voice cruel and twisted with all the rage in the world. 

H'aanit started by looking over to Cyrus and Olberic, a small frown on her face. Neither one of them was particularly focused on the conversation she was sharing with Primrose, not that she was surprised by that. She cared greatly for them the same way she did for Therion and Alfyn--both of whom seemed to fall into the same category as Cyrus and Olberic--but she couldn't ever imagine herself with them romantically. H'aanit didn't care much for romance herself. She hadn't thought about it much before, but she didn't think that she would ever find herself at their sides in terms of romance. 

As for men like Nathan, H'aanit knew already that she was never going to have any interest in people like that. She could already say that conclusively even without needing to ask Primrose for more details. Judging by the way the dancer's expression had contorted into an enraged snarl, H'aanit could tell that she had more than enough experience with the second group and was easily able to conclude that they weren't people to be trifled with. 

H'aanit shook her head as she looked up to meet Primrose's gaze. "If that is my choice, I shall taken neither," she remarked simply. She adjusted the bags in her grasp effortlessly, seeing Cyrus speaking to Olberic out of the corner of her eye. 

Primrose let out a small laugh at that. "Why, H'aanit, it would seem you don't need my counsel after all," she smiled. She was quiet for a long time before her fingers found a home on her dagger once again. "If anything ever happens... You know where to find me."

H'aanit wanted to say something in response, but she could already tell that she wasn't going to be getting any information out of Primrose beyond what she had already heard. This wasn't the time to talk about such dark subjects anyways, and H'aanit knew it. They would get their chance soon enough, but for the time being, Natalia and the information she possessed had to be their priority. 

Speaking of Natalia, she finally brought herself to a halt outside a small building constructed from stone. She sighed before glancing over her shoulder. "This is the place," she explained before reaching into her pocket for her key and unlocking the door. H'aanit nodded before trailing after her. 

As soon as she was inside, H'aanit set down Natalia's bags on a nearby table, and the other woman did much the same. Natalia sighed after the fact before she took a seat, a heavy sigh pushing its way free of her lips. It seemed that her conversation with Nathan had drained her more than she originally anticipated, and the weight still seemed to loom heavily over her shoulders. 

Luckily for her, Hägen wasn't going to stand for that, and he approached her carefully before sitting at her side. Natalia smiled as she reached out to stroke at his head, and the tension in her shoulders immediately began to dissipate. H'aanit watched her with a content smile as Linde purred and leaned against her legs. H'aanit stroked at the snow leopard's head carefully before returning her eyes to Natalia. 

The woman seemed to sober the second she realized H'aanit's eyes were on her, and she shook her head carefully. "I wish there was more I could tell ye," she admitted. "Last I heard, he was headin' out for the forest, out in the hills yonder. Then..." She was silent for a long moment before sighing. "Nothin'."

H'aanit rolled Natalia's words carefully in her mind as Linde laid down on the ground at her feet. "When was this?" H'aanit finally asked carefully. 

Natalia considered it before she shook her head. "Three months, I'd say. Give or take," she answered. "He'd disappeared before only to show up all of a sudden a few days later." She fell silent for a moment that lasted for an eternity before she shook her head. "I thought this time would be the same, but then the days turned to weeks, and the weeks to..."

Natalia couldn't even push out the final word, and H'aanit swallowed dryly before forcing herself to speak. "I bege thee forgivest my bluntness... But how didst thou knowen him?" she questioned slowly. No matter how many times she played Z'aanta's stories of the past over in her head, she never remembered the name Natalia, and she could only imagine that their relationship was a recent engagement. 

Natalia thought for a moment, and the air around her seemed to morph into something wistful. "My husband died not so long ago. Z'aanta was a friend of his," she responded. "My husband, you see, was a soldier the Knights Ardante in service to the realm. They met when huntin' monsters and--well, they shared a love of huntin' and ale, so they had much to talk about down at the tavern." She looked down at the table, and her spirit began to fade from her eyes. "Then my husband grew sick and..." She shook her head before glancing back up to H'aanit. "After the funeral, Z'aanta started callin' from time to time. I 'preciated the company, truth be told."

"Oh," was all H'aanit could bring herself to say in response. She knew that Z'aanta went out on hunts often, but she never would have expected that he would make his way to Stonegard to visit with Natalia. She could tell easily enough that there was nothing of romantic interest going on between Natalia and Z'aanta, but it still felt strange to pry into affairs that he had never shared with her. This was Z'aanta's tale to tell, and here she was hearing it when he wasn't present to explain anything. 

Natalia didn't seem to notice H'aanit's gloomy concern though, instead simply laughing easily to herself. "Am I embarrassin' ye, dear? I s'pose he's like a father to ye..." Her expression grew solemn at the words, and she seemed to recognize the weight of everything she was saying. With Z'aanta gone, none of this felt right to either one of them. 

Truth be told, H'aanit didn't know how she felt about the idea of thinking about Z'aanta as a father figure to her. Her parents had died when she was young, and he had been the one to take her in after the fact. He was a friend of theirs, and he was the only one willing to look after her. H'aanit had graciously accepted his kindness, though she hadn't been in much of a position to do much else. She barely remembered anything about her parents beyond vague stories Z'aanta had told her, and yet, she knew where the boundary rested between herself and Z'aanta. 

She rolled her words around in her head for a long moment before swallowing dryly. "He is my teacher," she began simply. "But... I have no kin. I was alone in the world. Master tooketh me in, cared for me, raised me as a hunter." She was quiet for a long time before she looked over to where Linde was resting at her side. "Perhaps he only did so because he wanted to passeth on his knowledge, the hunting lore that he had learned from his own ancestors." The words tasted bitter on H'aanit's tongue, and she could feel Natalia's eyes shifting for the worst the longer she stood there to think about it. She didn't want to think of Z'aanta as being selfish in that way, and deep down, H'aanit knew she was wrong. Her self-loathing wasn't productive nor was it true to Z'aanta's image in her mind and heart, and she knew that her fears about him were unfounded. Of course they were. She knew him better than that. 

H'aanit thought carefully for a long moment, and before she knew it, she was speaking once again. "But yes. To me--he is like the father I never had." It felt strange to admit it, but deep down, H'aanit knew it had been the truth all along. How could it not be? She knew what Z'aanta meant to her even if she had never referred to him directly as her father. They cared about each other endlessly, treating one another as family in a world that nobody seemed to understand in full. H'aanit loved Z'aanta to the moon and back, and she knew that he felt the same way about her. 

H'aanit's throat was still tight from the admission when Natalia spoke once again. The woman either didn't notice H'aanit's unease or was choosing to not comment on it out of respect. "Ye must be worried sick, him bein' gone so long without no word," Natalia murmured. 

H'aanit's shoulders went slack. "I am," she said, and for the first time since Hägen's return, it felt like she was actually allowing herself to acknowledge the truth. She was worried, and she was afraid. H'aanit had been subconsciously shelving her emotions for much of her life, but it felt like she wouldn't be able to push this away now that she had finally noticed it. She wanted Z'aanta to come back home, but she had no idea what she was supposed to do about it all. How could she bring him back to S'warkii, back to her, if she barely knew what was going on regarding his disappearance to begin with?

H'aanit shook it off to the best of her ability, though she could still tell that she was rattled. The other travelers, who had been waiting by the door previously, were all scrutinizing her from afar, and H'aanit could feel their gazes on her. She had never been this openly emotional before, assuming her current state could even be called that. She did her best to ignore it though, pretending Ophilia's worried gaze wasn't piercing her soul to the core. "Thanke thee for thine help, but now I must taken my leave," H'aanit forced herself to tell Natalia around the rock that was steadily forming in her chest. "I am going to the forest. Though surely the trail is cold by now..."

Natalia nodded in understanding and smiled tenderly. "Do take care of yerself, my dear," she told the huntress. It was as if all of Natalia's care for Z'aanta was manifesting in her eyes then, and she was sharing it with H'aanit for a brief flicker of a moment. 

The huntress took a long moment to try and push her way through it, and she eventually forced herself to nod despite the slowness that was quickly seeping through her mind. "I will," H'aanit said thickly. She approached the door, still feeling the eyes of the others in the room on her as she did so. When she was close to leaving, she paused and turned to face Natalia one more time. "May I aske one more favor?" she questioned, and Natalia nodded. "When thou next seest him, dost not tellen him what I saide today."

Natalia seemed taken aback at that. "Ye mean, about him bein' like your father an' all?" she asked, and H'aanit refused to meet her gaze. "I don't see where the harm is..."

H'aanit shook her head. "He would never letten me live it down," she explained. It felt refreshing to be able to admit her feelings to herself at long last, but at the same time, the last thing she wanted was for Z'aanta to find out. This was something she could keep to herself without him getting involved. He didn't need to know the truth, especially since she still struggled to understand it herself. 

Natalia's expression shifted to a smile, and she let out a laugh. "Aye, doubtless true, now that ye mention it," she agreed. "He's just the sort who'd tease a poor girl for speakin' her heart." She nodded. "Alright. It'll stay our little secret then."

H'aanit nodded with a small smile. "Thanke thee," she whispered. She moved for the door a moment later, and both Linde and Hägen rose to their feet to trail after her. Hägen gave Natalia one final nudge with his nose before following her, and H'aanit found herself outside soon afterwards. 

The other travelers were quick to follow in her footsteps, and they watched carefully as H'aanit sighed to herself and tilted her face towards the sun. H'aanit turned to face them once again a moment later. "We maken for the forest. There may not be any clues left, but I still wishen to try and searche," H'aanit explained. They all nodded their understanding, and H'aanit took in a careful breath before she looked to the path that would take them to the upper area of Stonegard and eventually lead them out of town. 

"You're worried, aren't you?"

H'aanit shifted her attention away from the path when she heard a familiar voice, and when she glanced off to the side, she was met with the sight of none other than Tressa. The younger girl was looking up at her with wide eyes, loving but still expecting an answer. It was certainly nothing out of the ordinary for her, but H'aanit found herself caught off-guard by it regardless. 

"Yes... I am," H'aanit forced herself to say despite her surprise. Her grief was starting to become a lead weight in her chest. She knew better than to believe that Z'aanta would let himself be surprised and killed even by the most fiendish of beasts such as this mysterious Redeye, but at the same time, she couldn't seem to shake the sensation that there was much more to this encounter than met the eyes. A hunt had never before lasted a full year, and if he had gone missing months ago, then H'aanit could only wonder what could have happened. 

"I'm sure that we're going to find him soon," Tressa assured her with a smile. She was quiet for a beat before continuing to speak. "I think about my Pa back home sometimes too. I care about him a lot, and he taught me a lot of what I know as a merchant today. I don't think I'd be where I am now if he hadn't spent so many years teaching me how to follow in his footsteps."

H'aanit nodded her understanding, and Tressa's expression sobered. "I... I know Master Z'aanta is like that for you too, and I want you to find him so that you can all go back home. I haven't heard all that much about him from you, but... I'd love to talk about him sometime if you'd be willing to share. I can tell that he's special to you, and... I want him to come home as soon as possible for your sake."

H'aanit smiled at that. "Perhaps I will have to inviten thou and the rest of our companions to S'warkii for a proper feast one day. I haven no doubt that thou will greatly enjoyen it," she said simply. 

Tressa nodded and clapped her hands together in excitement. "That sounds great!" she cried out. "Until then, I guess we should put our attention to investigating though. I'm not going to let anything bad happen to anybody as long as there's something I can do to protect you and the others. I don't know what this Redeye monster is like, but I'm going to make sure that we take care of him and take Master Z'aanta back home as soon as possible. I promise."

Despite the concern that had quickly found a home in her chest, H'aanit found herself smiling. "I thanke thee," she murmured. She had never been familiar with interacting with others in such a personal way. She had friends and neighbors in S'warkii, yes, but there was something about spending time with the rest of the travelers that simply felt much more personal. They were meant to be together, and it had nothing to do with the prophecy Aelfric had whispered into Ophilia's ear demanding that they meet. Everything about the group was special, and H'aanit was happy that she had come to call them her friends. 

Before H'aanit had the chance to say much else, the group arrived outside of Stonegard, and the huntress frowned to herself at the sight she was met with. The ground had crumbled, leaving a massive pile of rocks in its wake. She glanced up and saw that an overpass had begun to weather away, and H'aanit could only imagine that the stones above had caused the sudden obstruction to her path. 

"That's... Inconvenient," Primrose said simply as she took a step closer to the rocks. She reached out to touch one of the stones, though she already seemed to be able to tell that moving them would be nigh impossible. It didn't matter what physical strength they had at their disposal; there were simply too many rocks, and the landslide was much too large for them to get around it. 

If there was one thing H'aanit could say for sure though, it was that this collapse had been recent. She had grown used to gleaning all that she could from her surroundings in the past, and that included discovering as much as she could about nature from what her senses could provide. This time, her instincts explained that this had only happened a moon or two ago. The shoots growing atop the collapsed stones made that much clear as could be. Z'aanta had already vanished by the time that the rocks began to crumble, and she couldn't help but wonder if perhaps the reason he hadn't return had anything to do with the massive obstacle blocking any and all travel. She wished it was something so simple, but a horrible sensation in the pit of her stomach told her that it wouldn't be that easy. 

Hägen growled as he approached the rocks, and Primrose pulled back from the collapsed stones. H'aanit frowned as she turned to face the direwolf. "Thou rememberest this place?" H'aanit questioned even though the answer was clear as could be. "Is this where thou leftest him?" Hägen bowed his head in shame at that, and H'aanit shook her head before reaching out to touch the gentle fur between his ears. "Shh... I doe not meanen it like that, little one. Thou hastenedst all the way to the village for helpe. Thou didst not betrayen him, Hägen."

Hägen leaned a bit closer to her at that, and Linde settled down near H'aanit's feet in anticipation of what she would do next. H'aanit nodded to herself. "Thou wilt turnen back and searchen for another path. There is no way past this rockslide; that much is certain," she murmured. 

"I could try and do something to clear the way," Olberic offered. He reached for his sword before examining the rockslide carefully. "I may be able to channel the power of the blade Brand gave me to change the earth and offer us a way through."

H'aanit shook her head. "That wouldst not worken. The rockslide proveth to us that the grounde is unstable. If we pushen it too far, we may riske a greater tragedy," she told him. "There must be another way around..."

H'aanit closed her eyes in contemplation, and her mind was cast back to conversations she had shared with Z'aanta previously. She had struggled in the beginning finding a way to tune herself to the world around her, but Z'aanta had taught her how to learn more about nature and use it to her advantage. Hunting was always more about simply defeating monsters in his eyes; using one's environment was important no matter what, and he believed that nature did not simply have to be a hunter's enemy. In truth, it could be the greatest ally that anyone could ever ask for. 

H'aanit looked to the rockslide before allowing her hands to fall back by her side. When she listened closely, she could hear creatures rustling through the grass and the trees on the other side of the barrier. In other words, it seemed as if the monsters living near Stonegard had found a way around the blockade created by the rockslide. If they had a path, then that meant there was an alternate way to continue following Z'aanta's trail without breaching the collapsed stones. 

"The creatures of this forest must have founden a way past. Leten us searchen for their trail," H'aanit declared to the other travelers. They nodded their understanding before following in H'aanit's footsteps as they moved towards the main part of Stonegard once again. 

Leaving the city from a different direction was ultimately a simple affair, and H'aanit was glad for it. The last thing she wanted was to add another dimension of complication to a task that had already proven itself to be frustrating in more ways than one. She kept her eyes on the ground and the stones around her as they traversed the area near the city. There had to be another path to enter the forest without use of the path at the back of Stonegard, and while it was no doubt longer, H'aanit was willing to take it. 

She had grown somewhat lost in thought along the way, caught somewhere between her fear for Z'aanta's safety and her detached concern about what she was going to do when she finally found him. She should have been more focused, but she couldn't bring herself to fully concentrate until she heard Linde let out a small growl. H'aanit stopped immediately, and she heard the rest of the group's members come to a halt behind her. They had all been looking for clues in the silence, seemingly wanting to give H'aanit a bit of space for the time being. She was grateful for it, though she was much more thankful for whatever it was that Linde had found. 

There were two trees blocking the path ahead, though there was just enough of a gap between them for H'aanit to travel through. In other words, they had found their way forward. She frowned and took a step closer, but she realized that there was something obscuring the way forward along the way. The two trees left behind a gap, yes, but that hole had been filled by what appeared to be a monster of wood of some sort. 

The beast looked more like a tree than H'aanit had been expecting, standing tall and powerful over the immediate area. The trunk held the creature's face, and its mouth was wide in an expression of ghastly shock. Its bright yellow eyes watched H'aanit, and when she looked carefully at the ground, she could see the way its roots swirled around like tentacles. In other words, this wasn't going to be an easy foe to defeat, but she still knew what had to be done. 

"What now?" Ophilia questioned, reaching for her staff carefully. "Do you think we're going to have to fight it in order to get through?"

H'aanit's eyes fell to the ground, and she nodded. The tracks of the beasts that had traversed this path went beneath the tree's thrashing roots. In other words, their two options were to fight against the wood monster or take the risk of using Olberic's newfound earth magic to try and move the rockslide on the other path. She already knew which choice she was going to make though, so she reached for her bow and nocked an arrow on it. "Preparen, everyone," she announced firmly. 

The wooden beast seemed to recognize what she was doing long before she had the chance to let the arrow fly free, and the roots began to lash out a moment later. Linde jumped back to keep from being hit before baring her fangs and lunging forward, delivering a fierce bite to the creature's arm. The tree managed to throw her off, but Linde simply adjusted her course before landing perfectly on her feet with determination in her eyes. 

Hägen was quick to follow up on her strike, jumping for the tree's other side as Alfyn raised his axe and brought it down firmly on the trunk. Tressa reached for her spear before striking forward with a quick stab that created a tempest in the blink of an eye. The monster was left to stumble despite its massive size, unable to fight back against the sheer force of wind Tressa had at her disposal. 

Therion saw a brief gap in between the tree off to the creature's right and the monster's torso, and he closed his eyes before steadying himself and seemingly vanishing in the blink of an eye. When H'aanit next caught sight of him, Therion was behind the tree with fire magic thrashing atop his fingers. He firmly pressed an attack into the monster's back, and the creature roared in pain with the burning sensation. 

Primrose was quick to follow Therion's lead, and she delivered a quick slashing wound to the area that the thief had burned a few moments prior. The pair jumped backwards before the tree could lash out at them, though the beast was distracted with them for a brief moment. This offered Cyrus the perfect chance he needed to launch a thunder attack square in the monster's back. 

Olberic launched himself towards the beast before slashing with his blade. The rocks beneath his feet seemed to come up to hold the monster in place. Ophilia rained down a quick strike of light magic as the beast whirled around to face the direction of his newest attackers. Along the way, the creature roared with all the anger in its body. 

As soon as the beast was facing the rest of the group, the stones Olberic had summoned pinned it in place, and H'aanit finally let her arrow fly straight between its eyes. It didn't take long for the tree to fall limp and stop moving from there. She took a moment to breathe as she dropped her bow once again. This was all for Z'aanta. She was going to make sure that everything was alright in the end. 

"Thou wouldst maken good hunters," H'aanit said simply once she had put her bow away on her back once more. The rest of the group looked to one another before turning their attention to her. H'aanit nodded once more as she focused her gaze solely on where Primrose and Therion were on the other side of the threshold of trees. "Let us go. Master awaiteth us."

The other members of the group didn't protest in the slightest, walking around the remnants of the tree monster without missing a beat. H'aanit paused over the beast's corpse, clasping her hands together in front of her chest. She took in another careful breath before closing her eyes. "Thou death willst not be in vain," she murmured to the creature. She was going to find Z'aanta and do what she could to find answers. She had resolved to do so all the way back in S'warkii, and she wasn't about to let anything stop her now. 

H'aanit rose to her full height again a moment later before following the rest of the group, Linde ever at her side. Hägen had drifted to the front of the group, even more antsy than ever before to get going. In other words, they were closer to the truth than ever before, and Hägen could feel it. 

Before the sun set that day, they would have answers about Z'aanta. H'aanit was sure of it. 

Chapter Text

With the monster of wood out of the way, the path to the Spectrewood was clear. Z'aanta had said the forest just outside of Stonegard went by that name many years before, though H'aanit never imagined that it would be an important thing for her to remember prior to now. Then again, she also hadn't expected Z'aanta to randomly disappear for months at a time, so she supposed that this was just another strange event in a long line of peculiar happenings. The fact that she had fought against four gods in the last few weeks barely even seemed to scratch the surface. 

The Spectrewood was open at first, offering dulled sunlight to filter through the clouds overhead. The Highlands always seemed to be somewhat dark thanks to the perpetual overcast skies, and H'aanit did her best to not let this bother her as the trees began to thicken around her. The sunlight grew scarce as she walked onwards, and Ophilia reached for the Lanthorn to keep the path ahead lit. H'aanit could tell that everyone else in the group was just as on edge as she was, all of them ready to reach for their weapons the instant any danger presented itself to them. 

The group had been walking for a few minutes when Therion fell into pace alongside H'aanit. His hands had been shoved roughly and loosely in his pockets, and he refused to meet her gaze. This was nothing unusual for him, but H'aanit still found herself wary given the way he had spoken previously. 

"So, you know where to go next," Therion replied simply as he kept his gaze trained on the path ahead. He wasn't attempting to make eye contact with H'aanit either, so she could only assume that he needed the time to consider what was happening the same way she did. 

H'aanit nodded. "Yes. From the moment I sawe the landslide, I knew," she answered simply. She had been hunting long enough to be able to track down a path in case an obstacle presented itself. What sort of huntress would she be if she allowed herself to be stopped by the first sign of a challenge? 

"Impressive... Though I guess a hunter's most at home in the woods, eh?" Therion questioned with a small smirk, though he still didn't exactly meet her gaze. Instead, he opted to look just off to the right of her face. 

H'aanit nodded, not bothering to return the favor of attempting to make it seem like she was looking into his eyes. "Thanks be to my training. My master hath taught me well," she told him casually. 

For a long moment, Therion was silent as he stared down at the ground. "I hear there's no fiend out there he couldn't slay," he said when he finally managed to find the courage to speak once again. 

If H'aanit had to guess, he had heard of this from his time spent in taverns across Orsterra, and she found herself unsurprised that Z'aanta had made a name for himself there. "As a hunter, he is without peer, but..." 

Therion waited for her to continue, but when she held back, he prompted her onwards. "But?"

"When he ventureth into town, he is too easily tempted by the alehouse and games of chance," H'aanit explained. "He lacketh anything resembling discipline. Many times have comen and gone where I have been given no choice but to repayen his debts when he gets carried awaye by luck and ideals of fortune."

Therion thought about her words for a long moment before looking up to meet her gaze for the first time since the conversation started. "I'm sure he's glad to have someone like you with him," he said, the words oddly tender and soft given his regularly prickly demeanor. 

It caught H'aanit off guard for a moment, but if there was one thing she had learned to do over her years of hunting, it was controlling her emotions. She didn't let her shock flicker across her features, instead simply nodding with a small yet cautious smile. "I doe what I can," she told him simply. 

Therion didn't say anything after that, but H'aanit could tell what was on his mind, at least to some degree. He had a few other kind words for Z'aanta and H'aanit, but he wasn't sure about how to phrase them, so he chose to fall silent instead. Even if he didn't express himself to the huntress, he remained close to her side, and H'aanit couldn't help smiling at his presence. Despite his previous harshness in Bolderfall, he was starting to open up to the rest of the group in small but certain ways. She was glad to be able to see him make so much progress even if he was hesitant to show it to the rest of the world. Even small steps were important, after all. That was how true change was made. 

H'aanit stopped walking soon after her conversation with Therion drew to an unceremonious close. She glanced up to stare at the path ahead of her. The first thing she noticed was the plentiful number of broken tree branches that littered the clearing. There were footsteps covered in mud as well, and the area had fallen eerily still, like the animals of the Spectrewood were avoiding this area in particular. It was easy enough to see why. 

The other members of the group all stopped, and H'aanit leaned down to examine the grass below. She touched gently at the grass that still showed signs of having been walked on even a lifetime later. "A battle was fought here," she murmured to herself before rising to her full height once again. "But it was not beast versus beast. The destruction lieth only on one side of the field." H'aanit approached a tree that had been forced to the ground, and she touched gently at the wood like she was afraid the feat of collapsed nature would crumble beneath her fingertips if she used too much force to examine the area. At the base of the tree, a few rocks could be seen, though they were all sitting in unnatural, uncomfortable positions. The rocks had suffered notable damage, and the stones' surfaces were smeared with mud. H'aanit couldn't help frowning to herself. "Here, the rocks are marked with... Yes. Nicks made by steel weapons. Faded footprints, too. The signs of men."

H'aanit pulled away from the tree and the rocks, but she stopped when something gleamed out of the corner of her eye. She approached a patch of grass that remained relatively untouched save for the single splash of blood found beneath the blades. H'aanit reached her fingers through the greenery carefully before pulling out a single arrow with its tip stained in rusted scarlet. "This fletching... There is no mistaking it. This is one of Master's arrows!" she whispered to herself as she rose back to her full height, the arrow still pressed firmly yet delicately between her fingers. "He was among those who fought here. Was his foe the Redeye?"

"What do we do now?" Tressa questioned as she looked to the arrow. "Do you really think the Redeye is still here? You told us that the Redeye was supposed to be really dangerous... That was why Master Z'aanta was going to hunt it in the first place."

H'aanit was silent for a long moment before looking up. The path ahead was still littered with signs of combat, and she frowned even deeper at the sight. "The trail continueth farther into the woods. We must followe it," she announced to the other travelers. She kept Z'aanta's arrow in her hand as she stepped forward, clutching to it with masked desperation like it was the only shred of hope she had left. In some ways, it certainly did feel that way. 

H'aanit only managed to take a few steps forward before she was cut off by the sound of footsteps ahead. She could already tell that the culprit wasn't a human, and she frowned as she shifted her attention up. There was a large outcropping of rock lined with grass and trees that stood out over the clearing, and at the very top of it all, another beast could be seen. 

The monster looked like a dear made out of pure wood. The roots had woven together to create the appearance of a common creature despite it clearly being anything but. The creature's antlers were majestic and seemed almost like a crown of thorns, just as regal as it was dangerous. The monster was poised carefully, looking out over the clearing stoically. As far as H'aanit could tell, the deer was much more important than she could have ever expected initially. Given the way it carried itself, H'aanit could only think of one thing. 

This was the Lord of the Forest. 

Nobody dared to speak a word at the sight of the deer. In the end, the first move was made by the monster in question. The deer opened its mouth and let out a cry that pierced and echoed through the heavens. H'aanit remained firm in the face of the beast's scream, refusing to allow it to stop her. She had to press onwards if she was going to find Z'aanta, and she wasn't going to be stalled when she was so close to accomplishing her goal at last. 

H'aanit continued to watch the deer for a long moment, though she could feel the tension and fear from the other members of the group crawling down the back of her neck. They had no idea what to do about the massive beast stopping their forward progression, and truth be told, H'aanit wasn't entirely sure either. Something told her that this encounter was going to devolve into combat, but for the time being, she did her best to remain as calm as possible. "The Lord of the Forest is in a foul temper, I see," she murmured simply. On either side of her, Linde and Hägen sunk into defensive, combative stances. 

The Lord of the Forest took a small step forward, its teeth seeming more prominent than before. Everything about the creature was imposing and powerful the same way it was terrifying and impossible to understand. H'aanit could see what it was going to do long before it moved, and she took a step back while reaching for her bow as the Lord of the Forest launched itself down from its position atop the crag. The beast landed perfectly on the grass in front of the travelers, everything about its body poised in a defensive stance. 

"It cometh!" H'aanit exclaimed to the rest of the party. They all reached for their weapons as well, and H'aanit nocked an arrow on her bow, ready to let it fly free the instant she was given the opportunity. As soon as the others were prepared, she allowed the attack to streak through the air straight towards the beast. 

H'aanit frowned when the arrow seemed to have little effect on the monster. Behind her, Cyrus was reaching for the Tome of Tundras, but he didn't appear to be planning on using the weapon for its signature ice magic. Instead, he glanced to the other members of the group. "The beast is made of wood, so it's bound to be weak to fire magic!" he exclaimed. "But I would advise you all to be careful! We don't want to burn down the forest, so keep your attacks as controlled as possible!"

Therion nodded before he seemingly sunk into the shadows, ready to deliver a silent strike to the beast from behind. H'aanit, meanwhile, opted to reach for her axe after she slid her bow away. The beast had strong defenses, and if there was any weapon that would be able to break through something like that, it would be an axe. She charged towards the monster once she was ready, ducking beneath a slashing attack made of thorns. It wasn't until a few moments later that H'aanit realized the strike hadn't come from the Lord of the Forest directly. Instead, it had controlled the trees nearby and forced them to lash out at H'aanit. She couldn't help her silent curiosity on the matter, but she did her best to control her questions for the time being. After all, she couldn't afford to get distracted now. 

H'aanit was only able to get in a few attacks with her axe before she was forced backwards again. The Lord of the Forest's body was beginning to writhe with energy, and H'aanit realized that if any of them struck in the same place too many times with a physical weapon, the beast would start to cover the weakness with its thorns to ensure they couldn't break through. If they were going to deal any significant damage, they were going to have to spread out and deal many smaller blows to the beasts. In other words, they would bring it a death by a thousand cuts. 

Ophilia pressed the Illumination Staff to her chest and created a large explosion of light that spread through the area rapidly. The Lord of the Forest recoiled from the glow, something that was admittedly to be expected. The creature thrived in the darkness of the Spectrewood, so too much light was bound to catch it off guard. 

Therion reappeared behind the Lord of the Forest with his sword at the ready. He dealt a mighty slash with his sword before following up with a blast of fire magic centralized on the place he had struck the beast. The Lord of the Forest roared in pain and turned around to face its attacker, but when it was facing Therion's direction, he was already gone, having returned to the shadows seamlessly. 

Alfyn was quick to follow up on the Lord of the Forest's distraction, and he launched himself forward with his axe at the ready. He charged the blade with as much fire magic as he could stand before slashing downwards. Once again, the Lord of the Forest screeched in agony, but before Alfyn could offer another attack, the monster kicked at the ground and created a cluster of vines that grabbed at Alfyn's body. He yelped in surprise as he was thrown mercilessly against a nearby tree, his back slamming against the trunk. A notable crack was left behind in the wood from where he had made impact, and his axe had slid away from him while he recovered from his daze. 

"Alfyn!" Tressa shouted in surprise. She prepared a quick stabbing attack with her wind magic, but she wasn't able to do much damage to the beast. Because of how firmly fortified its defenses were, her tempest did little to push it away from its current goal of destroying the travelers. Tressa instead opted to deal a quick stab with her spear's physical strength instead, though she tore the weapon away as soon as she was sure that she had managed to fend off the beast for the time being. 

While Tressa fell to her knees at Alfyn's side to tend to his injuries, Primrose slashed her knife firmly at the Lord of the Forest's leg. The creature began to buckle from the sudden strike, and H'aanit directed an arrow of electricity at the weak point before the Lord of the Forest could cover it with thorns. The beast screamed as his leg crumbled out from beneath it, leaving the front right side of its body to gracelessly fall as its knee slammed into the grass below. Aside from that, it managed to remain on its feet for the most part, though H'aanit could already tell this trick wasn't going to be working again. They had utilized it once, but the Lord of the Forest wouldn't be giving them the chance to take advantage of that crack in its defenses a second time. 

The Lord of the Forest attempted to rise once again, but it was cut off by Olberic coming up behind it with his sword at the ready. He stabbed fiercely at the creature, his earthen sword flashing in the minimal lighting. The earth began to tremble, and a few jagged rocks stuck up from the ground to pin the beast's fallen leg to the ground. The Lord of the Forest attempted to pull away from the bindings, but it was ultimately unsuccessful, leaving it wide open for Cyrus to flick his wrist and release a firm blast of fiery magic that slammed into its side. 

The Lord of the Forest was pulled away from the stones with that hit, and it slammed into a nearby tree roughly enough to send a powerful crack screaming through the trunk. Alfyn and Tressa, who were by now uncomfortably close to the fighting, pulled away in a quick scramble of an escape. Tressa had managed to harness some of Ophilia's healing magic to cover the majority of Alfyn's injuries, though he still appeared to be rather disoriented from the attack. 

The Lord of the Forest could sense the weakness, and it lashed out with a firm blast of wood using the brambles attached to nearby trees. Alfyn ducked out of the way at first, but when the branches curled around and grabbed at his torso, there was little he could do. The beast had him pinned against a tree, and Alfyn was left to thrash against the grip wildly in a desperate attempt to escape. His axe was still out of his reach, and it had been thrown even farther from him because of the Lord of the Forest's firm pursuit of him. 

H'aanit reached for her own axe before dashing at the creature. She lashed out at the weakened leg before striking at another limb, leaving the Lord of the Forest incredibly unbalanced. The creature was forced to stagger backwards to keep from suffering another hit at H'aanit's hands. The brambles wrapped around Alfyn remained firm, and Therion reached for his sword before jumping into the air and cutting the branches away from Alfyn's body. The Lord of the Forest roared in anger at that as Alfyn collapsed to the ground, unceremoniously hitting the ground and letting out a groan as the air was pushed from his lungs. Primrose dashed to his side and pulled him away from the heat of the battle while Tressa did her best to prepare more healing magic. 

H'aanit knew that the Lord of the Forest was going to keep going after Alfyn unless the other members of the group got involved. It was a beast that knew how to handle itself, and it was fully aware of how to pursue weaknesses once they appeared. The others were going to have to interfere to ensure that the Lord of the Forest didn't go after Alfyn until its prey was gone. H'aanit charged her axe with thunder magic while keeping this in mind before rushing at the beast. 

Ophilia wound up taking a step in front of Alfyn while Tressa was healing him, and she called upon a powerful blast of light magic that pierced through the trees and left a small explosion of white and yellow illumination on the ground. The Lord of the Forest, accustomed only to exploring the darkened trees of the Spectrewood, couldn't force its vision to recover fast enough, and H'aanit lashed out with her axe from behind. At long last, the creature seemed ready to collapse in a dazed heap, but H'aanit could sense that it wouldn't be escaping any time soon. It wanted to carry this fight through to the end, and it fully intended on finding victory one way or another. 

Cyrus was quick to follow up on Ophilia's attack. Now that the Lord of the Forest was dazed and unable to properly defend itself, he called upon ice magic to root the creature to the ground. Olberic did the same with earth magic through the Sword of Stone, leaving the monster trapped from the front by ice and behind by rocks. The beast was too disoriented to do much of anything at the moment, but H'aanit could tell that it was just a matter of time before the creature continued its assault. 

H'aanit sent another quick blast of thunder at the creature before Linde and Hägen followed up on the strike with a team attack that went at the beast from both sides. Because the Lord of the Forest was distracted from being trapped, it was unable to heal its injuries, leaving gaping holes in the wood that made up its body. Olberic was quick to lash out at the remnants of the strikes with his sword at the ready while Therion did much the same nearby. Primrose opted to summon a curtain of dark magic over the creature, and at first, H'aanit was left wondering what exactly she was trying to do. 

However, it all became perfectly clear as Ophilia let out a careful breath and a wave of healing magic that fell over the group. Afterwards, she reached into her bag, pulled out an inspiriting plum to restore her magical strength, and concentrated her energy into a single attack of light magic fixed on the Lord of the Forest. Primrose had bathed the creature in darkness to give it even less of a chance of adapting to Ophilia's next attack, which meant that even when the beast broke free of its bindings, it would still find itself struggling to do much to attack those around them. 

As a matter of fact, the plan worked out perfectly, and the Lord of the Forest screeched in pain as it finally managed to stagger away from the ice and rocks. H'aanit had assumed that the bindings would only be able to hold it for so long, and she was right. Still, they had done significant damage while the beast was held down, and the chances of it being able to heal its injuries were next to none. 

At least, that was what she thought before a pair of other creatures came out of the trees. Something told her that they had been summoned by the sound of the Lord of the Forest's screaming. They knew that their liege in the natural world was suffering and fighting something, so they came to its aid. H'aanit couldn't quite pick out the details of the creatures, but she could say conclusively that they were similar plant creatures to the Lord of the Forest. 

The monsters immediately fell into a defensive stance on either side of the Lord of the Forest, and H'aanit could tell that the group was going to have to fight through the pair if they wanted to make any progress. She pulled together her thunder magic once again, though this time, she nocked an arrow on her bow as a channel for her energy. They had to get rid of the smaller beasts as soon as possible. If they didn't act quickly, the Lord of the Forest would simply heal its injuries with the time it had been given, and they couldn't afford to let that happen.

Cyrus was quick to strike at the beasts with a blast of fire, and Ophilia followed up with an explosion of light that rocked the area. H'aanit sent an electrocuted arrow flying towards the first of the two monsters while Olberic slashed at the other with his sword as soon as he was close enough to do so. Therion came up behind the first of the two and offered a quick stab into its back before slinking back into the shadows, giving H'aanit the perfect chance to fire an arrow straight into the creature's head. 

The second beast of the two immediately noticed the weakness found in Alfyn's slumped posture near the back of the battlefield, and it launched at him with everything it had. Tressa reached for her spear and managed to strike the creature in the arm just in time to ensure that it wasn't able to get too close. The beast staggered backwards before attending to strike from another angle. 

However, it never got the chance as Alfyn reached for his axe, barely managing to grab onto it after the blade was knocked from his hand a few minutes prior, before flicking his wrist and sending it flying sideways through the air. The weapon pierced through the monster and found a home wedged firmly in a tree trunk. The monster immediately collapsed to the ground, and Alfyn stared in stunned silence for a long moment before smiling to himself. "Bullseye," he muttered. 

The Lord of the Forest was none too pleased about this outcome though, and it prepared to charge towards Alfyn and Tressa once again. Olberic stabbed his blade into the ground, and a quick column of rock flew up from the grass to create a blockade between the Lord of the Forest and its two targets. Tressa sighed with relief before using one last spell of healing magic on Alfyn. He pushed himself to his feet a few moments later, testing his body to ensure that he didn't fall over. He still didn't seem to be entirely present as far as concentration was concerned, but he was back on his feet, and that had to count for something. 

With the Lord of the Forest stopped by the earthen blockade, Primrose jumped behind the beast. It had been forced to slow down significantly and suddenly when Olberic created the shield, and that left it lacking in balance. Primrose slashed her dagger at one of its weak spots before lashing out with a quick dark magic strike that left the Lord of the Forest disoriented and seemingly blinded. An explosion of light magic ensured that the beast would be unable to see for another few moments, and the monster let out a cry of pain before stumbling around in an attempt to escape its assailants. 

H'aanit nocked yet another arrow on her bow before she primed herself for a shot. Linde and Hägen lashed out at the creature from either side, and the Lord of the Forest roared in anger and anguish. Cyrus sent out another attack of fire magic that forced the Lord of the Forest to stumble once again. This time, the beast fell backwards as its legs began to give way beneath it. H'aanit somehow doubted that the creature would be rising to fight again this time though. 

Alfyn reclaimed his axe in a quick dash before slashing at the Lord of the Forest one last time. The creature seemed to lose all sense of orientation with the hit, and Tressa used her bow to strike at its shoulder from there. H'aanit, meanwhile, jumped into the air, her bow at the ready, before letting the arrow fly forward with all the force she had.

The arrow slammed fiercely into the Lord of the Forest's head, and H'aanit heard it let out one final scream before it fell silent and still. Its legs collapsed beneath it, and the beast did not move again after it hit the ground. The sound of the Lord of the Forest's body hitting the grass seemed to echo throughout the Spectrewood, and H'aanit remained silent and statuesque for a long time even after she landed just to make sure that she had truly accomplished her goal. 

H'aanit let out a careful breath and lowered her bow as soon as she was sure that it was safe to do so. The Lord of the Forest had been a difficult opponent, but she was confident that this was not the Redeye Z'aanta had sought a year prior. The Lord of the Forest seemed rather standard as far as creatures from this area were concerned. The Redeye, meanwhile, had been much stronger than this and had been described as invasive and destructive multiple times by Eliza. In other words, Redeye was still out there, and H'aanit could only hope that the path ahead would lead her to some clue about how the beast was connected with her master's disappearance. 

"Our true target still lieth ahead," H'aanit told the rest of the group. They watched her carefully, none of them wanting to believe what they were hearing. The Lord of the Forest had been difficult enough for them to defeat, and Alfyn still didn't seem to be back to normal after the powerful hit he had sustained earlier. H'aanit didn't know if they would be ready to face another beast if such a battle came to pass. 

Hägen was quick to bound forward from there, and H'aanit frowned. His behavior didn't make it seem as if there were any other notable monsters in the area. Linde had relaxed as well, and H'aanit knew to trust her hunting partner when she believed that the battle was over. In other words, they were safe, at least for the time being. Redeye wasn't here, and that meant the only thing ahead of them was the truth about Z'aanta. 

H'aanit followed Hägen and Linde deeper into the forest, and a silhouette came into view. She frowned to herself as she recognized the outline of Z'aanta. He had been here all this time. H'aanit didn't know why he was still here if Redeye was long gone, but she suspected that she would find her answers soon enough. At long last, the truth was within her reach. 

H'aanit stopped a few steps away from Z'aanta. He was motionless, and everything about him seemed dulled somehow. She stared at him carefully, and her eyes went hollow and ghastly. "Master...?" she questioned. Around her, the wind seemed to fall silent, too afraid to even whisper as the twisted reunion unfolded beneath the trees. 

H'aanit's eyes went wide as a stray stream of sunlight fell upon Z'aanta's body. Something was wrong, so grievously horrifying that she could hardly believe what she was seeing. Deep within her chest, air was pushed from her lungs from pure shock. 

Z'aanta had been turned to stone. 

Chapter Text

For a long moment, H'aanit couldn't bring herself to do anything other than just stare. She knew what she was seeing, but her mind was racing to the point that she didn't want to register it. Z'aanta remained unmoving, and his entire body was covered in a gentle glaze of dark gray stone. H'aanit didn't realize that she was saying his name until she was dashing over to him, her body moving without any permission from her mind. She had managed to remain rather calm during the battle with the Lord of the Forest, but any lingering traces of adrenaline crashed into one another relentlessly as soon as she recognized what was unfolding before her. 

Z'aanta had been turned to stone. 

Z'aanta was standing tall and proud, and his hand was locked firmly on his bow. It looked as if the last thing he had done was release an arrow, his expression stoic as could be. It was the most serious H'aanit had ever seen him, and she felt cold fear rush through her body like a tidal wave attempting to drag her down to the seafloor. 

"Master..." H'aanit whispered again after she was able to bring herself back to earth. She reached out carefully to brush her fingers across his arm just to prove to herself that she was seeing the truth. Z'aanta's body was cold and smooth the same way that stone normally was, and if there was even the slightest trace of doubt in her mind, it was gone as she pulled her fingers away. "But frozen... Petrified in stone! What unholy thing happened here?!"

Before the other travelers had the chance to respond to H'aanit's answerless inquiry, Hägen let out another growl, this time turning to face away from Z'aanta. H'aanit frowned before her eyes went wide with recognition. Hägen was watching a nearby tree trunk, and at the center of the wood, H'aanit could see something she recognized all too well. It was enough to make her stomach flip once again. "Another of Master's arrows," she whispered as her hand instinctively drifted to where she had put away Z'aanta's last arrow in her bag. She shook off her fear as quickly as she could before starting to approach the tree trunk. Once she was beside the tree, she turned to face Z'aanta once again and noticed his drawn bow. "Did this fate befall him even as he drew his bow?"

H'aanit yanked the arrow out of the tree, and Tressa let out a gasp as she pointed to it with one hand. "What's that on the arrow?" she asked, her head tilting to the side slightly. 

At those words, H'aanit's gaze dropped to the shaft of the arrow, a her frown deepening and spreading across her features. "There is a note tied to the shaft," she murmured. She immediately unraveled the small piece of string that was keeping the rolled-up piece of paper connected to the arrow. Upon closer examination, she realized that the string had come from Z'aanta's shirt, likely the closest thing he had access to in order to tie down the note to the arrow. 

H'aanit tucked the arrow away in her bag as she unraveled the note in full. The writing across the surface of the parchment was most certainly Z'aanta's familiar script, hasty but still elegant. She swallowed dryly before preparing herself for the long read ahead: 

"To whomever readest this... 

Like as not, thou foundest this next to a stone figure. That is me, the hunter Z'aanta, in the flesh--ah, so to speake. I was commissioned by the Knights Ardante to hunten the beast they callen Redeye, a beast that hath left me in this unfortunate state. Among Redeye's formidable powers is the ability to petrify. Already, my feet hath turned to solid rock. I have but a short time to penne this message before the curse overtaketh me completely. In a village called Stillsnow, there is a seer by the name of Susanna. Surely she shall knoweth what to don about this petrification. It is a faint hope but the only one that remaineth to me. This beast cannot be allowed to runnen amok. It is far too dangerous, too savage. Praye helpeth me. Not for my sake, but for the innocents who will die if this creature is not putten down."

For a long time, all H'aanit could do was stare down at the note. All of a sudden, everything made so much sense. Z'aanta had never come back home because he had been turned to stone by Redeye's power. He had come here many times to try and hunt the beast, but it escaped before he was able to defeat it, and in its wake, Redeye had left behind a statue of the one H'aanit cared for most. "Master..." she whispered tenderly, her hands starting to shake from overwhelming shock. With that she, swallowed back her anxieties and continued to read, knowing that she wouldn't be able to escape the truth forever. 

"And H'aanit, if thou art reading this--praye forgivest this old man for not keeping his promise."

H'aanit continued to stare at the letter as she read the final line. Tears were starting to fog her vision, and yet, she did not move to wipe them away. She could count the number of times she had cried on one hand. She had never been the type to be moved by emotions to such a dramatic degree, but despite it all, she couldn't bring herself to stop her tears as she once again rolled Z'aanta's words over in her head. "The old fool," she whispered. "Even as he was turning to stone..."

H'aanit could feel the eyes of the rest of the travelers on her, but she couldn't bring herself to read the note aloud, knowing that it was only going to break her even more than it already had. Luckily for her, she was given a reason to focus on something else when Hägen stepped towards her with fierce determination in his eyes. Everything about his gaze told H'aanit that he knew where he belonged. No matter what, Hägen was meant to be at Z'aanta's side. He had guided H'aanit this far, but this was where they would be parting ways. 

H'aanit nodded her understanding. "So thou wilt stayen and watchest over him," H'aanit said simply. Hägen nodded in return, and H'aanit's eyes dropped to the page pressed firmly between her fingers. She knew realistically that she would have to put it away soon to ensure that nothing happened to damage it, but for the time being, she needed to keep the page in her hands. She needed the memory of Z'aanta to be as close to her as possible, and that meant holding onto the paper as long as she could manage. H'aanit did her best to shove her quiet emotions aside for a moment though, knowing what had to be done. She looked firmly yet gently down to Hägen before continuing to speak. "That is good."

Linde stepped closer to H'aanit, silently asking her mistress what they would be doing next. For H'aanit, the way forward was clear as could be. "I will seeke out this seer Susanna... And praye she knoweth a way to break the curse," she announced. Linde and Hägen both understood her words easily, and the latter curled around Z'aanta defensively. 

H'aanit finally managed to pull herself away from the tree trunk to walk in the direction of the forest's exit. She paused along the way though, turning to face Z'aanta with an expression that screamed of her sealed grief. "Fearest not, Master. We will saven you--of this I sweare," H'aanit said softly. She had never meant any words as much as then, and she knew nothing would ever compare to this again either. 

And with that, she sighed carefully to steady herself before walking out of the Spectrewood and leaving Z'aanta and Hägen behind. 

~~~~~

On the way out of the forest, none of the members of the group could bring themselves to say a word. H'aanit knew why they were all silent; they didn't want to have to face the reality of what they had seen. Freeing Z'aanta wasn't going to be easy even if they had an idea of what to do next, and that didn't even factor in the idea that they would have to fight Redeye one day. There was no way for the beast to be allowed to roam freely given all that it was capable of, and Z'aanta had said as much. No matter how they looked at it, Redeye was all that rested in their future if they continued down their path. 

H'aanit was taking it the hardest. She had managed to persuade herself to put the note away, knowing that her desperate gripping at the page wasn't going to bring Z'aanta back to consciousness, but she had replaced it one of his arrows. She had held them countless times over the course of her time as his apprentice, but it all felt different this time. The arrow felt heavier, and she couldn't help but feel as if its weight was dragging her down to hell while simultaneously pushing her to keep moving forwards. 

The next step was clear as could be, at least for now. She was going to have to tell Natalia about all that she had learned. Afterwards, H'aanit could plan what she would be doing next. Susanna was waiting in Stillsnow, and that meant that they would be able to travel to her whenever they so chose. After all, the Warp Staff more than allowed for it, and the gift from Alephan was certainly going to save them a lot of time in transit. Still, H'aanit had no idea if she was going to be ready to face Susanna yet. Something about her still felt nauseated by all that she had learned that day, and she had no idea how she was supposed to push through it. 

"Your master is an impressive man."

H'aanit hadn't even noticed Olberic was beside her until he spoke, and she perked up at his words. As soon as he recognized that she was listening, he continued. "It is in our most trying moments that our true character is revealed. Your master refused to yield, even as his limbs turned to solid stone. There are few with the wits to know what must be done at such a time, and fewer still with the composure to act upon it," he explained. "Through his courage, he instilled in you the gift of hope. If that is not greatness, then I know not what is."

H'aanit didn't know how to respond to that for a long moment, so she simply smiled gently as she looked down to the arrow in her fingers. All of a sudden, the tidal wave of emotions from when she had found Z'aanta rose once more, this time threatening to knock her to her knees and then some. She refused to let this show though, instead simply sighing carefully. "Truth be told, I have ne'er heard such praise bestowed upon him," H'aanit muttered. She thought that Z'aanta more than deserved it though. Even with all of his flaws, he was still the man that she admired most in this world, and the last thing she wanted was for him to suffer as long as there was something she could do about it. He was still her father, loath as she was to admit it now that he was temporarily gone, and she loved him with everything she had. 

Olberic smiled at her words, and she could tell that he knew everything she was feeling and then some. Neither one of them were the sort to speak frankly about their emotions, but they still knew how to help one another in their own special ways. "I look forward to the day that the three of us can sit down and share a drink," he told her, everything about the idea as gentle as it was perfect. 

H'aanit snickered at that once again with a shake of her head, and all of a sudden, it felt like everything might be alright despite the persistent weight pressing down on her chest. "Best not. Thou should knowest that he turneth most tedious when the mead starteth flowing," she told Olberic. She had more than enough experience with Z'aanta both in this way and every other, and she laughed as she continued to elaborate and dispel Olberic's confusion. "Endless tall tales of the beasts he hath hunted, each repeated thrice for good measure."

Olberic let out a laugh of his own at that. "I see. Perhaps just soup and barley tea then," he proposed instead. Something told H'aanit that he wasn't going to be backing down from the subject until he had been granted at least something that would guarantee a conversation with H'aanit and Z'aanta after all this was over, though she wasn't objecting to that in the slightest. She wanted all of the travelers to have the chance to meet Z'aanta one day. She was sure that he would love all of them and be proud of the new team that H'aanit had found for herself. 

"That soundeth incredible," H'aanit murmured to Olberic. She was quiet for a long moment before she glanced up to meet his gaze, smiling more than she thought possible after all that she had seen that day. "I thanke thee, Olberic."

He bowed his head in a careful nod. "You have nothing to thank me for," he assured her, though H'aanit couldn't help the gratitude that rushed through her core. She wasn't sure how she was going to pull this off, but she was going to do her best to try. Z'aanta wouldn't be left alone to suffer forever as long as she had something to say about it. This wouldn't be a journey she endured on her own either. The rest of the group would be there for her every step of the path, and she wouldn't have had it any other way. 

H'aanit felt something brush against her leg, and she glanced down to see Linde was clinging tightly against her body. She smiled at the sight, knowing that her snow leopard was trying to cheer her up. Linde was grieving in her own way too, no doubt fully aware of the severity of the situation, but she was still doing what she could to help her partner. H'aanit reached one hand down to stroke gently at the top of Linde's head, relishing in the soft warmth that met her fingers. Linde purred and leaned a little bit closer against H'aanit's body. The huntress merely smiled to herself, glad that she had such an incredible team to rely on. 

All too soon, the party arrived outside Natalia's home in the valleys of Stonegard. H'aanit swallowed dryly before reaching out to knock, knowing that she wouldn't be able to run from this forever. Natalia had to know what was going on after all that she had done to help both Z'aanta and his apprentice up to this point, though H'aanit had no idea how she was going to say it. Then again, she supposed that planning an explanation wouldn't do her much good in the long run; the second she started talking, it was all going to be thrown aside in favor of the raw, overwhelming sensations that came with all that she had seen that day and was bound to see again as the pursuit of Redeye and Z'aanta's freedom continued. 

Natalia came to the door a few moments after H'aanit knocked, a frown on her face. Her expression lit up as soon as she realized who her guest was, and she stepped aside to allow H'aanit to enter her home. "Oh, there ye are, dear! Well? Did ye find him?" she asked. 

H'aanit hesitated before nodding. "We did.  However..." The story tumbled out freely from there, and H'aanit felt like she was more along for the ride than anything else. The longer she spoke, the more Natalia's expression shifted to complete ghastly horror. She didn't know what to say about any of this, and she looked paler than ever before. 

By the time H'aanit had finished speaking, Natalia's hand was pressed firmly over her mouth. "The beast turned him to stone?!" she cried out, unable to restrain her surprise any longer than she already had. 

H'aanit nodded. "I saw it with my own eyes," she replied simply, wishing that she had something more optimistic to say about all of this. It was better than Z'aanta being dead, but the situation still felt strangely hopeless in a thousand different ways. At this point, H'aanit's hopes were being placed solely on the shoulders of the mysterious woman named Susanna that Z'aanta had mentioned in his letter, and H'aanit could only hope that he was right in saying that she would know what to do. If Susanna didn't have an answer...

Well, H'aanit didn't want to think about that outcome, so she simply pushed her train of thought as far away from it as possible. 

H'aanit continued carefully, her fingers squeezing into a fist that seemed ready to destroy everything that even dared to get in her way. "I doe not yet knowe how we can bringe him back, but I will finden a way," she assured Natalia with a quiet yet firm voice. She shook her head before her fingers instinctively drifted to Z'aanta's note where it was tucked away in her bag. "I will begine by finding the seer called Susanna." Hopelessness was starting to rise in her chest once again, but H'aanit did what she could to beat it back with all the force she could muster. "In hunting, thou must never abandonst the chase. Master taught me this. If I am to truly callen myself his prentice... I must see this hunt through to the very end."

Natalia nodded at that. "Indeed..." she murmured, though anybody could see clearly that her thoughts were not entirely with the present. H'aanit tilted her head to the side ever so slightly to try and tease the truth out of her, and Natalia snapped almost immediately. She let out a small chuckle with a careful shake of her head. "It's a queer thing... You and Z'aanta are different in so many ways... Yet at times like these, yer eyes glitter in the same way. Ye both have the same steel inside ye when ye set yer mind to somethin'."

H'aanit allowed her fingers to drift back to her sides, and for a long time, she was still and silent, unsure as to what could even be said in response to that. She was honored to hear that she had such an important and striking thing in common with Z'aanta, but it caught her by surprise in ways she never expected regardless. "Is that so?" she finally decided to ask, refusing to let the silence close in around her for too much longer than it already had. Silence meant that she was left alone with her own thoughts, and that was the last thing she wanted in light of what had happened that day. 

Natalia nodded once again, and her laughter seemed to open itself up once she realized that she couldn't hide it any longer. "Aye, I reckon it is. Almost like father an' daughter, one might say," she said kindly. 

Before H'aanit had the chance to say anything in response to that, a knock came at the door. She frowned and glanced over to Natalia. The woman rose from where she had been sitting across the room to move to the door. "Now who could that be?" she muttered. She glanced over to H'aanit a moment later, an apologetic smile on her face. "If ye'll excuse me..." Natalia opened the door before stepping out a moment later, leaving the wood cracked ever so slightly in her wake. 

H'aanit glanced over to the other travelers where they were gathered elsewhere in the area, silently asking if any of them knew what was happening. She was ultimately met with confused eyes and a chorus of shrugs, and H'aanit could only assume that they were just as lost about this as she was. Then again, she supposed that she would be getting the answer she sought soon enough. 

Beside her, Linde let out a small purr and leaned against H'aanit while staring at the door. That left only one conclusion for the huntress, and she quirked an eyebrow up as she glanced down to her partner. "Someone thou knowest, girl?" H'aanit asked of Linde softly. 

Linde never got the chance to communicate her thoughts to H'aanit though. The door opened, and Natalia walked inside with another woman hot on her heels. Eliza Woodward followed Natalia inside, her silver and lavender armor gleaming in the firelight of the small home. Eliza smiled as she approached Linde, reaching one hand out to the snow leopard. "I thought I recognized that mewl," Eliza murmured to Linde. The leopard curled against Eliza's fingers affectionately, welcoming all the attention she was getting without missing a beat. 

"Eliza!" H'aanit greeted in shock. "What art thou doing here?" She didn't know where exactly she expected Eliza to be, but she certainly hadn't anticipated seeing the famed leader of the Knights Ardante in the valleys of Stonegard. Then again, H'aanit wasn't complaining. It was always nice to be able to see an old friend again. 

Eliza continued to stroke gently at Linde's head as she glanced over to H'aanit. "We had no word from Z'aanta for weeks. I came to find him," she explained simply. "In his most recent missive, he said he was coming to this town in pursuit of the beast."

H'aanit nodded. "'Twas the last I heard from him as well," she murmured, though she supposed that wasn't exactly true anymore now that she had the arrow note tucked away in her bag. 

H'aanit's worry must have been written on her face, as Eliza's expression went solemn as soon as she recognized that something was wrong. Her gaze drifted briefly over to the rest of the travelers where they were standing nearby before she looked to H'aanit once again. "Whatever has happened here? You must tell me all you know," Eliza instructed solemnly. 

And just like that, H'aanit was wrapped up into telling the story once again, though she seemed to lose more of her optimism each time she detailed what had happened to Z'aanta. As was to be expected, Eliza's face slowly lost its color from pure shock, and by the time H'aanit was finished speaking, Eliza barely seemed to be focusing on what was happening around her. In fact, H'aanit didn't think she had ever seen the knight looking so crestfallen and worried in all their years of knowing each other. 

"Gods a'mercy, for a hunter of Z'aanta's skill to succumb..." Eliza murmured when she was finally able to persuade herself to speak once more. 

"I would hear all thou knowest of this Redeye," H'aanit told her firmly. If this beast had managed to bring Z'aanta to his knees through petrification, then it had to be stopped as soon as possible. H'aanit didn't know how much of a chance she stood against it, but she still had to try. 

Eliza nodded, though everything about her was still rattled and uncertain from hearing of Z'aanta's fate. "I fear I know very little... Nothing, even," she admitted. "The Knights Ardante simply bid me hire Z'aanta. They told me nothing more. But it is clear they must have known the danger."

"Then why send one man to face the monster alone?" Natalia interjected. She was clearly stressed as well, and her voice threatened to crack under its own weight the longer she spoke. 

H'aanit shook her head. "Not just any man." 

"So great was the peril, they could to turn to no one else," Eliza murmured with a nod of recognition. "On the hunt, no one could match his speed, his guile... If they had sent a regiment with him, he would have squandered his strength just to keep them alive. Or so they said..."

H'aanit nodded her agreement. "It is true. Our village wanteth not for skilled hunters, but even the best of them would only geten in his way," she pointed out. "The Knights' judgement was correct."

"But even so..." Natalia murmured as she turned away, anxiety written all over her face. She attempted to speak a few more times, but each desire to say something fell short.

Eliza's posture relaxed in understanding. "It leaves a bad taste in your mouth, yes?" Natalia nodded. "It is the same for me. By sending one man alone, we declared to the world our own weakness. Now, it falls to me to hunt Redeye in Z'aanta's stead." Eliza turned to face H'aanit a moment later, her expression grim. "H'aanit, you have another duty. You must go and find this seer."

H'aanit nodded. "Yes. It was Master's last command before the curse overtook him. I will finde the means to free him of it--I must." From beside her, Linde's eyes gleamed with determination, the snow leopard's silent way of saying that she would be fighting at H'aanit's side to the bitter end. 

Natalia glanced between Eliza and H'aanit before a small smile began to creep across her face. The gesture was filled with sadness and bitter nostalgia, but she pressed on regardless. "Z'aanta's lucky to have such capable friends," she murmured. 

Eliza shook her head. "My skill in the hunt is hardly the measure of his. But he needs me, and I will do what I can," she explained simply. "Countless times, Z'aanta has lent me his strength and courage. Now it is time to give some of mine." She moved towards the door, glancing to H'aanit as she did so. "I shall send word if I learn more of this Redeye." With that, Eliza bowed her head carefully and left the building behind. 

H'aanit watched her go with a sigh on her lips. She knew what had to be done next. She had to prepare to find the seer known as Susanna and figure out what she had to say about Z'aanta's current status. It wasn't going to be easy, but when was anything simple these days?

Fearen not, Master... I will save thee. I promise.

~~~~~

The day seemed to pass by H'aanit in an effortless haze after that, both all too painfully close to her and strangely faraway from her mind's focus. She and the rest of the travelers bid Natalia farewell for the day before going their separate ways for the day. They had finished their business in Stonegard much faster than expected, but they had already paid for a room at the inn, and getting on the road to Saintsbridge would hardly be effective given what had happened that day. They all needed a break whether they wanted to admit it or not. 

H'aanit took to the edges of Stonegard overlooking the Spectrewood. She stood in front of the collapsed path that had caused her such grief earlier in the day, and all of that felt so distant all of a sudden, as if she had come across this obstacle a year ago rather than a few mere hours prior. Nothing about the situation felt real even though she knew that it all had to be. 

H'aanit knew little about petrification as much as she hated to say it. She had never even thought such a thing to be possible. Stories of old had mentioned it, yes, but she thought they were merely tales of fancy rather than facts retold for younger generations. She had no idea how long this Redeye had existed or what its purpose was, but she was confident that it was going to be the cause of countless issues if she did not find a way to interfere. Even if Eliza was taking up the brunt of the hunt for the time being, H'aanit knew that she would not be able to stay away forever. 

H'aanit sighed as brushed her fingers against the rocks blocking the path to the Spectrewood. Now that she had some time to think and process all that was happening, her chest was starting to feel empty, as if somebody had hollowed it out without bothering to offer her mercy along the way. H'aanit hated the sensation with every fiber of her being even though she knew that there would be no escape, not until Z'aanta was freed of Redeye's curse. 

It still felt unbelievable to her. She had seen the truth of Z'aanta's status with her own two eyes, but she still didn't want to believe any of it. How could the strongest hunter in all of Orsterra fall so easily to Redeye? It had been so simple for the beast to destroy everything that Z'aanta had ever known, and H'aanit was still carrying the weight of the fallout. She felt as if Z'aanta's statue was continuing to hold her down, almost as if it wanted to drag her into the earth and keep her there forever. 

H'aanit shook her head as soon as she was able to focus herself once again. She heard a small purr, and she glanced down to see Linde nuzzling up against her side. Before H'aanit could say for sure what she was doing, she slid down to the ground and leaned her back against the rocks behind her. She stared up at the grayed sky overhead, wondering if everyone else felt as if the world was trying to smother them when they encountered such hardship. 

No rains were set to fall that day, and H'aanit could feel it, but that did not stop liquid from welling up in her own eyes. Tears rained down on her fingers as Linde pressed herself as close to her mistress as she could. H'aanit stroked gently at Linde, finally releasing the tears she had been holding back so firmly earlier in the day. 

H'aanit had no idea how many times she had cried in her life, but somehow, this time felt the darkest of all.

Chapter Text

To say that the day had been a difficult one would have been an understatement. 

If Primrose was being honest with herself, she had no idea what she had been expecting to find when the group finally reached Z'aanta. Something deep down told her that it wasn't going to be good given how long he had been gone, but she had been hoping for the best that perhaps there would be some explanation for it all that didn't involve tragedy. Now, she was cursing herself for her past optimism and wondering what the hell any of them were supposed to do about it. 

The next step on this path seemed obvious: they had to find the seer known as Susanna where she waited in Stillsnow and use the knowledge they gained from her to pursue the beast known as Redeye. Everything about that plan was somewhat hazy, but it was still a general idea of what to do next, and Primrose was willing to take it. Still, knowing what to do next didn't change the way that her stomach churned at the thought. 

Primrose knew that she shouldn't have been so bothered by it all. She should have known that something bad was going to have happened to Z'aanta for him to disappear for so long, should have known that saving him wasn't going to be as easy as she would have hoped. It all felt so obvious in hindsight, but at the same time, Primrose couldn't forget the haunted look on H'aanit's face when they finally uncovered the truth. H'aanit had been hesitant for years to admit that she thought of Z'aanta as her father, and as soon as she recognized the truth for what it was, she was forced to stumble into Z'aanta as a statue with no easy way to fix his current state. Everything about H'aanit's face had read as pure grief, and Primrose felt sick just to think about it. 

Primrose knew that look all too well. She had seen it in her own eyes when she was still grieving over her father what felt like a lifetime ago now. She would look up at her own reflection with exhaustion written across her features, wanting to do something to make it easier but not sure as to what would even help. Primrose remembered swallowing dryly back then and trying to steady herself once more, but nothing ever seemed to work as well as she was hoping it would. Grief was never a simple process, and even Z'aanta wasn't truly dead--at least not yet--H'aanit was enduring it regardless. 

And Primrose had no idea what she was supposed to do to help. 

Primrose wasn't going to be able to just sit back and watch as H'aanit fell apart under the weight of it all. That just wouldn't be right, and Primrose refused to allow others to suffer as long as there was something she could do about it. Of course, that train of thought implied that she had a plan for what to do next, but the fact of the matter was that she was clueless. She had to try something, but where was she supposed to find a way forward? It felt like the world was deliberately keeping the best plan from her, and to say that she was frustrated was the greatest understatement to ever be uttered. 

She was on the verge of starting to pace through her and H'aanit's room in the Stonegard inn when she heard a knock at the door. Primrose immediately paused and rose to her feet. If it was H'aanit, then the huntress would have just walked in. In other words, somebody else was coming by for a visit, and Primrose couldn't help frowning to herself about it. 

The dancer rose to her feet and approached the door. She pulled the door open and saw none other than Ophilia standing on the other side. The blonde cleric was, in a word, distracted, staring down at her feet and refusing to make eye contact with Primrose. She barely even seemed to notice that the danger was letting her inside, too caught up in her own thoughts to realize. 

"Ophilia," Primrose greeted simply, and at long last, she was able to get the cleric's attention. Ophilia's head whipped up as she finally met Primrose's gaze, though the dancer continued before Ophilia could find the words to fill the silence. "Is there something wrong?"

Ophilia hesitated before shrugging. "I suppose... I was just hoping to talk to H'aanit," she admitted softly. "I guess that she's not back here yet though... It makes sense. There's a lot on her mind right now, and..."

Primrose allowed Ophilia to step into the room before she shut the door once more, and the dancer sat on her bed carefully. She patted the space beside her to pull Ophilia to her side, and the cleric was quick to oblige. "Is there something on your mind?" Primrose asked even though the answer was obvious as could be. 

Ophilia opened her mouth before pressing it shut again a moment later. "You could say that," she muttered. The two women were silent for a long beat, but Ophilia broke the quiet by sighing heavily. "I don't know. There's a lot going on right now, and... I feel awful for H'aanit. I didn't think that we were going to find her master like that, and..."

"You wish there was something you could do," Primrose finished for her, knowing the learned sensation of helplessness in grief all too well. She had seen that look in her own eyes a lifetime ago, witnessed in H'aanit's irises earlier that day, and was glimpsing it a third time on Ophilia's gaze now. That didn't make it any easier for her to deal with, but at least she could recognize what was happening. That had to count for something. 

"Yeah," Ophilia whispered softly. She began to weave her fingers together, desperate for the distraction from everything that was screaming inside of her head. "I know how hard it is to lose a family... And to think that you're going to lose them soon..."

Primrose nodded her understanding, and Ophilia sighed before continuing. "My parents died a long time ago, back when there was a major conflict in the southern half of Orsterra. They were killed in a war invasion, and I was left all alone," she murmured. "I was taken in by my adoptive father after my parents were killed since he was a good friend of theirs. It took me a long time to accept that I thought of him as my father because I thought I didn't deserve his kindness. After that, he told me that he was sick and getting worse, and..."

"Seeing H'aanit go through something similar hurts a lot more than you thought it would," Primrose said, knowing exactly where this was going before Ophilia could even come close to saying it. 

"Yeah," Ophilia repeated with a heavy sigh. "H'aanit never thought of her master as being her father until she came here to Stonegard and talked to Natalia about it, and as soon as she came to that conclusion... We found Z'aanta in the Spectrewood turned into a statue."

"We're not going to let this be the end though," Primrose assured her. "It may seem like the end of all our hopes, but Z'aanta seems to believe that there's a chance for him to come back. I'm choosing to have faith in that. He thinks that we'll be alright if we can find this seer named Susanna. Hope is just about all we have right now, and... We're going to be there for H'aanit until we're able to find that hope for ourselves in Stillsnow or anywhere else across Orsterra. This isn't where it all stops for either one of them. I promise."

"Yeah... You're right," Ophilia murmured, though uncertainty was still consolidating in the core of her chest. She fell silent for a long moment before sighing and shaking her head. "I don't know how to help H'aanit through all of this. I feel like I should at least do something, but... I have no idea what I should be saying to her."

"Me neither," Primrose admitted. She liked to think that she knew H'aanit well, but it seemed like all words fell painfully short when it came to the situation at hand. She didn't want to say something wrong and cause unnecessary harm, but Primrose barely knew where the line between right and wrong was supposed to be in a situation like this. She swallowed dryly and pulled her knife from where it was sheathed at her hip. She brushed one finger across the surface of the blade. Faith was her shield, but it wouldn't be enough to protect Z'aanta. 

The same way it wasn't enough to protect Father.

Ophilia must have noticed the shift in Primrose's expression, as she reached out and placed one hand on top of the dancer's knuckles. Primrose glanced up to meet her eyes, and Ophilia simply smiled. Primrose returned the gesture, surprised at how genuine she felt along the way. Even if they had no idea what they were doing next, they were going to fight for a better future together. They would find a way to free Z'aanta from the curse, and along the way, they would defeat Redeye to ensure this tragedy never repeated itself again. It would take a while, yes, but Primrose could already tell that it was going to be worth it. 

Primrose let her dagger slide back into its sheath a moment later as she shut her eyes carefully. When H'aanit got back, she would talk to her. Primrose had no idea what she was supposed to say, but the least she could do was try. H'aanit needed the rest of the group now more than ever before, and Primrose refused to back down from a challenge like this. H'aanit deserved better than that, damn it. 

"I want to be here when you talk to her too," Ophilia said, seeming to understand Primrose's train of thought effortlessly. "I don't know if it'll do much good, but... I still want to try and help her through this."

Primrose nodded. "She'll appreciate that," she whispered, hoping that it would be easier to find a solution to this impossible problem with the added help of Ophilia on her side. They would be able to figure something out here if they worked together on it, right?

Right?

Primrose did her best to not worry about it too much as she tilted her head towards the ceiling. She was going to have a lot on her mind until H'aanit got back, and there was no guarantee that their discussion would go well even when the huntress returned. Still, Primrose wasn't going to leave the huntress to suffer under the waves of her own grief. If she could do something to help, Primrose had to try at least. 

After all the other travelers had already done for her, it was the least she could do.

~~~~~

Olberic and Therion stood outside the latter's room at the inn, frowns etched on their faces. It had been complete coincidence that they moved here at the same time, though Olberic was hardly objecting. As far as he was concerned, they were there for the same purpose. He could see it in Therion's masked eyes. No matter how hard the thief tried to hide his fears, there were a still few honesties that slipped through, and Olberic saw them all in perfect clarity. 

They were worried about Alfyn. 

Olberic had always been a warrior. Ever since he was young, he had known how to handle himself on the battlefield. He had been trained by the best and joined the army of Hornburg because he wanted a cause to fight for. Throughout his many years of fighting, he had learned the importance of analyzing the combat styles of those around him, and that extended to both his allies and enemies. He was still working out the finer details of where the other travelers stood in terms of combat, but he had a generally good idea of what they often did when it came to battle.

Alfyn was a healer first and foremost. He dedicated most of his time to helping those around him recover, and if he wasn't crafting medications, then he was fighting with an axe. He was slow but knew how to hit hard, dealing massive damage along the way. Alfyn's fighting style was casual and simple, but it worked perfectly for what he was meant to do on the battlefield. His primary purpose was to heal those around him, and from there, he would attack when he got the chance. He wasn't the best in terms of offense, but he was more than strong enough to stand tall and proud with the rest of the travelers, and Olberic had to admit he was impressed an apothecary was so talented with physical weapons. 

However, that was not the way that Alfyn had fought against the Lord of the Forest.

If anyone dared to look closely enough at the way Alfyn had handled himself a few hours prior, they would see that he had been sloppy. He wasn't focused on the battle at hand, and he was thrown down like a rag doll as a result. Everyone else was generally able to maintain their concentration in the face of the wooden beast, but Alfyn had been left at a massive disadvantage. He had only sustained as much damage as he had because his head wasn't on the fight. His thoughts had whisked him away elsewhere, and there was no way for him to come back to earth until somebody managed to ground him from the outside. 

Therion had no doubt been able to see it too. Therion's work as a thief involved being able to see the weaknesses in the people around him so that he could exploit them. He operated in the shadows and lashed out at vulnerable patches when his foes let their guards down. He had found success for so long because he knew how to twist every fight to his advantage, so when he noticed that somebody around him had a weakness, it stuck out to him like a sore thumb.

Apparently, that included his allies as well. Therion had arrived a few moments before Olberic, and he opted to lean against the wall just off to the side of the door with his arms crossed. If Olberic had to guess, he would say that Therion was trying to figure out what to say to Alfyn. Therion's work also required that he know what to say and when to ensure that he was able to get everything he needed and wanted to continue with his regular operations, and while he was normally good at coming up with words on the fly, Alfyn was a different beast entirely. Anyone could see what Goldshore had done to him, and it seemed like the once immovable and eternally powerful apothecary had been knocked from grace with the force of a tornado none of them could have ever hoped to stop. 

Olberic glanced over to Therion before he turned his attention to the door. "Are you ready?" he asked simply, raising one hand in preparation to knock. 

Therion rose to his full height after a moment of contemplation, pushing away from the wall along the way. "As ready as I can be," he muttered darkly. Neither one of them was looking forward to the conversation waiting for them on the other side of the door, but it was a discussion that needed to be had at one point or another whether they liked it or not. 

And neither one of them liked it.

Olberic knocked carefully, and the hallway seemed to fall eerily silent for a long moment as they waited for Alfyn to reply. In truth though, they were only left in suspense for a few seconds before Alfyn's voice could be heard from within his room. "Come on in," he announced, though anyone with enough experience in reading voices could see that there was much more strain to the words than he was willing to admit. 

Olberic pushed the door open before walking inside a moment later, a frown heavy on his features. Alfyn was sitting on his bed, and as far as Olberic could tell, he was putting something away in his bag. On a second glance, Olberic realized that Alfyn had been staring at one of the shells Ellen and Flynn gave him before the group left Goldshore. He tucked the shell out of view before leaning back, a small but strained smile on his face. "What can I do for you two?" he greeted, his voice almost too casual. 

"We need to talk," Therion said bluntly. He kicked the door shut behind himself before he leaned against the wall, a frown heavy as could be. He didn't say anything about how Alfyn wasn't going to be leaving until he answered the questions at hand, but the truth was left unspoken and heavy in the air. 

The apothecary seemed to realize just how heavy the subject at hand was, and he winced for a moment before nodding. He corrected his expression so quickly that most people wouldn't have even noticed that he was nervous at all, even if it had only been for a brief flicker of a moment. "What is it?" he questioned. 

"You weren't fighting with everything you had when we went up against the Lord of the Forest," Therion told him, not bothering to mince words as his eyes went steely. "You were holding back, like you were fighting scared. That was the only reason it was able to get the upper hand over you so easily. You were barely paying attention to what was happening, and the monster knew it."

Alfyn was quiet for a long moment before he looked over to Olberic, no doubt hoping that the warrior would be willing to offer him salvation from Therion's accusations. Olberic simply shook his head. "I'm afraid that Therion is right," he murmured. "All of us could see that there was something wrong with the way you were carrying yourself during that battle. You weren't fighting with everything you had, and you were thrown around rather easily as soon as the Lord of the Forest realized what was happening."

"What's going on with you? There must be some reason that you weren't as focused on that fight as you should have been," Therion pressed, his eyes narrowing in Alfyn's direction. "You can't keep shuffling around the truth either. Everybody can tell that there's something wrong, and we're not going to be safe in a battle until you can work it out. We need everybody to fight with everything they have, and that includes you."

Alfyn glanced back and forth between them for what felt like an eternity before he shook his head. "Nothing is wrong," he insisted, though everybody could see the lie for how flimsy it truly was. "I just got distracted because I'm not used to fighting in darker environments like that. It's a bit hard to keep your focus when it gets like that, huh?"

"You're full of crap," Therion snapped back immediately. "You were distracted because of a lot more than you're willing to say openly." He paused for a moment as he considered Alfyn's words, and something in his eyes seemed to loosen up briefly. "I get it. The darkness of the forest reminded of you how dark the cave was back in Goldshore. You were thinking about Vanessa."

Alfyn's desperation was written all over his face as he tried to find some other explanation that would get him out from beneath Therion's scrutiny, but anybody could see that it wasn't going to be working. He eventually let out a heavy sigh before shaking his head. "I've had a lot on my mind lately," he admitted softly. "The Lord of the Forest is nothing like her, but... I don't know. As soon as I started thinking about her, I just couldn't stop. The Lord of the Forest was trying to defend its home, but she... She was deliberately trying to kill people in the name of her own satisfaction. I don't know what I can even say about her that hasn't already been said, but..."

"You couldn't focus during that fight because the environment reminded you too much of what happened when you first fought against Vanessa," Olberic concluded simply. Alfyn hesitated for a long while before he nodded. Olberic's expression softened, and he took a small step towards the apothecary. "Nobody is going to ask you to completely move on from what she did immediately. Finding out about all of that... It left a heavy weight behind on all of us. People can be selfish creatures, and she is one of the worst that I've ever seen."

"I can't seem to get her out of my head no matter how hard I try," Alfyn sighed heavily with a shake of his head. "I know I shouldn't give her the time of day. She's in Goldshore and will be in prison for a long time for everything that she did. Still... I can't stop thinking about her. I know that she hurt a lot of people before we finally managed to catch her, and... She thought that I was going to become like her one day. She was sure that I would understand her perspective one day after I had worked in the business for long enough."

Alfyn shifted his attention down to his hands, and he began to clench and release his fingers in an almost rhythmic pattern. "She once wanted to help people too... It was a long time ago, but she wanted to assist those around her for a little while as far as I can tell. It was only after she got into the work that she realized just how much she could take advantage of it and the people who needed her services. She betrayed everything that she had previously worked for in the name of coin and her own greed... And she thought that I would do that too," he muttered. "She was confident that I would understand why she was acting the way she was. But... I don't get any of it. I hate her with everything I am. I can't seem to stop thinking about her and how many people she's hurt and killed in the name of her own ends. Is this what it means to be an apothecary and a healer to her? Are the lives of innocent people secondary to wealth to anybody else out there too? Is it really all about using people in the name of achieving goals that no other person could ever hope to comprehend?"

The room fell quiet for a long moment as Olberic and Therion both contemplated how they were meant to respond to that. In the end, it was Therion who managed to break the silence, and he shook his head simply. "You're nothing like Vanessa," he said softly. 

Alfyn didn't seem entirely certain of that, so Olberic picked up where Therion left off. "There are people who seek justice and righteousness in every profession just as there are those who seek only to fulfill their own aims. You and Vanessa have entirely different reasons for doing what you do. She made her decision, and that has no bearing on what you choose to do from here."

"You don't want to hurt people the way that she does, right?" Therion questioned, his eyes narrowing in Alfyn's direction. 

The apothecary shook his head furiously. "Of course not!" he yelped. "I would never dream of that. I would never want to be anything like her. I'm afraid of accidentally crossing that line, but... I don't want to be like Vanessa. She made a lot of terrible choices, and the least thing I want to do is tip into the same abyss that she buried herself in."

"Then there's your proof that you're nothing like her," Therion told him simply. "Vanessa would have never reacted that way. She made up her mind as to who she wanted to be and what that meant for the people around her. You want to help people, and you could never be anything like her as long as you don't let yourself be. Besides, do you really think the rest of us would just let you become a wild apothecary who cares only for money?"

Alfyn laughed at that, and the color finally seemed to be returning to his features. He shook his head. "You got me there," he admitted before falling silent once again. "I guess... I never thought that people could act like that, you know? Something about other people always felt... Different. Helgenish was so obviously terrible, and the same applied to Rufus. I suppose I just thought it would always be easy to figure out who the bad guys are supposed to be, but... That wasn't the case with Vanessa."

Therion flinched slightly at the sound of Rufus' name, but he hid his reaction before anybody had the chance to call him out on it. "There are good and bad people no matter where you look. The world is full of them. Sometimes, they come in forms and places that we never expect to find them, and that doesn't make it any easier. We just have to find a way to deal with it, and we took care of Vanessa. She's not a problem anymore. You're not the same as her, and I don't want to hear you talking about how you're scared of becoming like her."

Olberic nodded his agreement, noting the strange degree of darkness that had found itself in Therion's voice. He had no idea where the sudden shift could have come from, but something told him that Therion was speaking from experience in a way that none of them could have seen coming. Therion knew what it meant to be betrayed by somebody who he thought was good, but Olberic didn't want to push the subject. He doubted it would gain him much in the way of success even if he tried. 

However, it did make Therion's words about not trusting people make a lot more sense. He feared trusting others because he had been betrayed once before by somebody he thought was a friend. Even now, he felt the pull of that pain, and it controlled him. 

Perhaps that was how Olberic felt about Erhardt too. Olberic had given everything he was to Erhardt when they were friends a lifetime ago, and it felt like the two of them understood one another perfectly. Erhardt was everything that Olberic could have ever asked for, and yet, Erhardt hadn't been satisfied with the lot he was presented with. He used that anger to betray everybody who had ever cared for him, and just like that, Olberic understood all too well what it meant to be stabbed in the back by someone he loved. 

Therion was right; there were good and bad people in every profession. Did that mean Erhardt was one of the bad ones? Why did that make Olberic feel sick to his stomach?

"Only you can decide if you're going to be like Vanessa or not," Therion continued, and Olberic welcomed the distraction from his own thoughts. "If you don't want to follow in her footsteps, then don't do it. You're the one who gets to make that choice, not her. No matter what she said, she's not the one in charge here, and I don't want you to think that she still has a hold on you all this time later."

Alfyn nodded at that. "Yes... You're right," he murmured. He pulled his shoulders back in the grandest display of confidence he had shown off since the group was in Noblecourt, and he smiled brightly to both Therion and Olberic. "Thanks for coming to talk to me. I needed to hear that."

"As long as you make sure this doesn't get in the way of your fighting, we're in the clear," Therion said, his voice just as unreadable as ever. However, Olberic could tell what his words truly meant; Therion had been worried, but he hesitated to admit it in case that was the step too far that caused someone to stab him in the back. It wasn't that Therion didn't trust the rest of the group. He simply didn't trust how he was supposed to respond to it all, and the fear was creating a rift that nobody could hope to cross easily. 

"Of course," Alfyn assured him. He let out a small laugh before leaning back against his bed. "What did I ever do to deserve friends like you guys?"

Therion didn't respond to that. Instead, he simply rose to his feet and walked out of the room, no doubt off to take care of his regular thieving habits while they were still in town. Olberic watched him go before moving towards the door, wondering if perhaps he would ever get a deeper glimpse into what was happening beneath the surface of Therion's haunted and empty eyes. 

"Try to rest. You suffered significant damages during that last battle," Olberic told Alfyn when he was halfway to the door.

"Of course," Alfyn replied. "I'll see you later, Olberic."

The warrior simply nodded before walking out into the hallway and closing the door behind him. He sighed once he was alone, pretending his mind wasn't racing with thoughts of Olberic. The idea of what was good and bad had always been skewed in Olberic's mind, but everything seemed to crumble after Erhardt helped to bring Hornburg to its knees. What was morality supposed to mean anymore? Had it ever held any weight to begin with?

Olberic simply shook his head before walking away. He could worry about Erhardt another time. For now, he had another group to look out for, and he wasn't going to fail them now. 

Chapter Text

H'aanit closed the door carefully behind herself as she walked back into the inn room she and Primrose were sharing throughout their stay in Stonegard. She wasn't entirely sure how long she had been out by the Spectrewood simply crying for reasons that she struggled to describe beyond her own skills of reason and rationality, but she was glad to be back. It had taken a miracle for her face to be wiped clean of tears and red marks, but H'aanit was relieved that nobody had been able to tell that she had been crying for so long. Linde was remaining closer to her than usual though, a lingering trace of her protectiveness after all the horrors that the day had shown to them. 

H'aanit had been expecting to glance up and see the room empty, but much to her surprise, Primrose and Ophilia were both sitting on the former's bed. H'aanit watched them for a long moment before correcting her expression back to its typical neutrality. "Goode afternoon," she greeted simply before sitting down on her own bed. Linde sat down at her feet, and the huntress reached one hand down to stroke gently at the snow leopard's head. H'aanit was silently relieved that Linde was so good at reading her emotions; it certainly made it easier for H'aanit to find comfort when she struggled to articulate aloud just what was bothering her. 

Ophilia and Primrose glanced to one another for a moment that seemed to last much too long in H'aanit's eyes. The cleric rose to her feet and took a careful step towards the huntress, almost as if she was afraid of what was going to happen if she crossed too many lines. "Are you okay?" she whispered, treating the words as sacred glass. 

H'aanit looked up at Ophilia and prayed that she didn't look as worn down as she felt. Before H'aanit had the chance to say anything, she was cut off by Ophilia interjecting. "I'm sorry about what happened to your master," the cleric whispered into the silence. "I wish there was something I could do to solve the problem right now, but... It seems like we won't have any easy solutions until we can go to see that woman in Stillsnow."

"Susanna," H'aanit finished for her simply. She shifted her attention back to Linde a moment later, desperate to say something more but ultimately uncertain as to what she was meant to tell the cleric and dancer. What could she say? There was no easy solution for anything that they were being faced with, and she knew it. Ophilia was right in saying that they were fumbling in the dark until they could go back to Stillsnow, but H'aanit couldn't ask everybody to drop what they were trying to accomplish in the name of her own quest. That simply didn't feel right to her, and she had no idea what would be waiting for her in Stillsnow on top of that. For all she knew, it was for the best that they couldn't return for a while yet; they had caused a notable upheaval the last time they were there, and H'aanit couldn't say for sure if the lingering traces of Rufus' ring would take that lying down or not. 

Ophilia nodded. "Yeah," she hummed. She fell silent once again before she sighed and glanced up to H'aanit once more. "I'm sorry about all of this. Fearing the loss of someone you care about... It's terrible."

H'aanit looked up to meet Ophilia's gaze once again and saw that the cleric's expression had been torn to shreds by some unknown touch of grief. "Your father... Thou art thinking of him, yes?" H'aanit questioned as soon as she recognized that expression a bit more than she probably should have. 

Ophilia hesitated before nodding. "He's still sick back home in Flamesgrace... And I'm holding tightly to the hope that there's something I'll be able to do to see him again before he passes on," she murmured. "But just sitting around and waiting for that time to come is agonizing. I don't think that I would ever be able to imagine walking into the forest and seeing... Well..."

"Stone," H'aanit finished for her, uncertain as to how else she was meant to say it. All of a sudden, her body felt tense again, like she was going to start to crumble if she wasn't careful. How could she still feel so fragile? She had just spent what felt like an eternity crying her eyes out near the Spectrewood, and it had been the greatest period of sorrow H'aanit had ever known. The last thing she wanted to do was repeat it when she was already exhausted as could be. 

Ophilia nodded once more, seemingly uncertain as to what she was meant to say. She eventually drifted to H'aanit's side, placing one hand over the huntress' knuckles carefully. "We're going to find a way to fix this," she promised H'aanit. "But until then... It's okay to be scared. You don't have to be fearless all the time. The rest of us are here for you. We supported Primrose back in Stillsnow, and we helped Alfyn in Goldshore too. I think it's time that you let us do something for you for a change."

H'aanit did nothing but stare down at the place where her hand met Ophilia's in her lap for a long time. How was she supposed to respond to that? Z'aanta had always encouraged her to be open with her emotions, but H'aanit had never been able to bring herself to do it. The idea just felt wrong to her for reasons that she struggled to articulate. H'aanit never saw much of a reason in being open with how she felt when it never seemed to accomplish much. She appreciated Z'aanta's jovial cheer, but she could never echo such a demeanor. She simply wasn't made for it. 

The opposite end of the spectrum remained foreign to her as well, hence why she had remained alone when she sobbed for everything that had happened for reasons that she didn't understand. Z'aanta's letter made it sound like he was going to be fine if all went according to plan. He had been serious for the first time in ages, but H'aanit had faith that he was honest when he said that he thought this Susanna woman would be able to help him. She believed him, but at the same time, that wasn't enough for her to calm her raging mind when it came to all of her greatest fears. 

Before H'aanit knew what she was doing, her fingers drifted up to her chest where her parents' rings hung from a single loop of string around her neck. She had never known her parents, instead always finding Z'aanta to be her family. She had been able to cope with their loss thanks to Z'aanta, and he was the one who saved her from what would have been a life of isolation in the aftermath of her world crumbling from beneath her feet. Z'aanta felt more like family to her than her parents ever had, and she didn't know what to do when her family--the one that she loved the most--was breaking due to powers out of her control.

Ophilia watched H'aanit carefully before sighing. "I lost my birth parents a long time ago too," she murmured. "They passed away in a war between major settlements in the south of Orsterra. My adoptive father, the archbishop of the Church of the Sacred Flame, took me in after they passed away. I don't know what I would have done without him and Lianna. They saved me from endless loneliness and gave me a place to belong. I didn't realize that it was my home for a long time, but... I see now what it is, and... I don't want to lose it."

H'aanit remained silent at those words, still uncertain as to how she was meant to respond. A knot had started to rise in her throat by this point, and H'aanit had no idea how she could ever find the power to speak around it. "But there's still a way for us to keep fighting. You have every right to be afraid and hopeless right now, but... We're going to find a way out of this. It's okay to fear what's happening while still understanding that it won't be like this forever. We're going to find a solution and bring your master back home. I promise," Ophilia continued, her voice as melodic as it was soothing. 

"It seems to me like we can trust this Eliza woman with taking care of Redeye for the time being," Primrose interjected, nodding her agreement to Ophilia's words. "That means that the rest of us can focus on trying to find a solution for the petrified condition of your master by traveling to Stillsnow."

Ophilia nodded as well. "I've heard much about Eliza, and I've met her a few times too," she agreed.

H'aanit finally found the footing she needed to speak, though it was far from being about the subject she knew she had to discuss sooner or later. "Ah, indeed. The Knights Ardante aren servants of thine Order of the Sacred Flame, yes?" H'aanit asked. She wasn't going to be able to avoid talking about her fear over Z'aanta forever, but at least she had finally found the power to speak around her nerves. That was an important first step, and she was willing to take it.

Ophilia nodded once more. "Indeed. She is well respected by the church and known as one of its most loyal servants," she said. "That means that we can have faith in Eliza to handle the fight with Redeye until we're able to join it ourselves."

"Thou intendest to fighten at my side if we must engage Redeye?" H'aanit questioned. She didn't know why she was shocked by this revelation given that the group had stayed by her side that far, but it still caught her by surprise in more ways than she could ever hope to word aloud. 

"Of course," Ophilia said, speaking the words so easily that it seemed like nothing had ever come simpler to her. "We're not going to just abandon you when you need support most, H'aanit. That's not what friends do, and I like to think that we all think of each other as friends after how far we've come already. We're going to visit Susanna and see what we need to do to save your master, and after that... We'll follow you to fight Redeye."

"Even though thou now knowest about Redeye's powers of petrification?" H'aanit asked, still finding herself dancing around the subject of their alliance uncertainly. She was more than happy to have the rest of the group around, but the last thing she wanted to do was push them into danger prematurely if there was something she could do to prevent it. If they chose to do this of their own free will though, then who was she to stop them? H'aanit was a firm believer in choice even if she feared for the people who were making the decision at hand. People had to explore the world for themselves, and she wouldn't be the one to hold them back from doing what they thought was right. 

"We can't just leave you to handle all of that alone," Ophilia insisted. "I know that none of us are quite like your master, but... Since coming to travel with all of you, I've felt like I've found a new family that I never could have expected. Everything is happening fast right now, but... I still want to try and fight in the name of something that we can all believe in. I have faith in all of you, and I'm not going to leave any of you out to dry as long as there's something I can do to help. You're all becoming my family too, and family doesn't just leave one another behind."

H'aanit looked up to meet Ophilia's gaze, and she realized that the gleam in the cleric's eyes was a familiar one to her. H'aanit had seen Z'aanta's eyes shine the same way many years ago when he insisted that he would look after her no matter what happened next. She had just lost everything, but he was more than happy to care for her through her darkest hour. Z'aanta had promised that they would be family then and forever, and just like that, all of H'aanit's previous fears had melted away in favor of a comfort and home that she never could have imagined. 

Before H'aanit could register what was happening, tears were welling up in her eyes, and the salty liquid slid down her cheeks as she stared at Ophilia in the silence. She had cried so few times up to that point that she could count off on one hand how many times she had taken to tears throughout her entire life before then. And yet, here she was, crying three times in a single day without even bothering to fight it. This had been one of the hardest days of her life, and it felt like everything was falling apart, but she still shocked herself with the ease of her tears after all the years she had spent hiding her emotions whether she noticed it or not. 

Primrose crossed the room to sit on H'aanit's other side, wrapping an arm around the huntress' shoulder gently. "It's okay," she whispered. "You can cry as much as you need to. We'll be here for you no matter what."

Much to H'aanit's own surprise, those words were all it took for the floodgates to come rushing open. Her tears began to flow faster and more freely than before, and H'aanit couldn't bring herself to stop them. Linde began to curl around her feet, and H'aanit watched as the snow leopard stared up at her with all the love in the world. The huntress smiled sadly as she found herself leaning against Primrose's torso, her fingers still intertwined with Ophilia's on her lap. H'aanit had never been one for physical affection, but everything about this felt so overwhelmingly right that she couldn't bring herself to protest. After how terrible the last twenty-four hours had been, she needed this whether she wanted to admit it or not. 

Primrose and Ophilia were silent as H'aanit allowed herself to cry in front of other people for the first time in well over a decade. They didn't bother to try and quiet her, knowing that this was what she needed above all else. H'aanit knew that they were right about her needing to be open with her emotions, and she found herself rather shocked by just how... Simple it felt. She had been holding herself back for years without ever coming close to registering it, but this time, it felt like the world was coming into focus in a way words could never describe. 

It felt like she truly was home. 

For H'aanit, home had always meant her small wooden cabin in S'warkii, the one she had shared with Z'aanta her entire life. However, as she sat there crying in the inn of a town she had come to despise in the last few hours, H'aanit felt that sensation of love mount in her core once again. Home wasn't exactly a place anymore; it was a feeling, and that sensation seemed to manifest around the other travelers as well. She hadn't felt this comforted and loved since before Z'aanta disappeared, and it seemed like the light of catharsis and peace was finally aligning properly where it had failed to do so daily for the last year. 

By the time H'aanit's tears had dried, she felt much better than she had even after she finished crying outside the Spectrewood. The constant comfort that came from Ophilia, Primrose, and Linde was more than enough to ease her raging mind and fearful heart. Even if times were uncertain regarding Z'aanta's fate, they were going to try and work out a solution. Until then, it was alright that H'aanit was nervous. Anybody would be, and it simply wasn't realistic for her to try and hide herself away from the world to try and ignore the obvious truth of the matter. It was alright to be open with her emotions even if she hadn't done so in years up to that point. It was everything she needed, and having Primrose and Ophilia along for the ride only made it easier for her. 

"I thanke thee," H'aanit finally managed to say when she was able to speak once more. She found herself leaning a bit more against Primrose's body much to her own surprise. H'aanit had always felt that Primrose acted somewhat motherly around others and was great at taking care of them, but she never would have imagined that she would find herself on the receiving end of such kindness. 

"We're more than happy to help," Primrose assured her with a small smile that had the power to bring light to even the darkest corners of Orsterra. H'aanit couldn't help returning the gesture, and she wondered when she had gotten lucky enough to stumble into a group that cared for her so much. 

"If you ever need us again, you know where to find us. We're more than happy to help you in any way that you need," Ophilia said next, and H'aanit glanced over to the cleric. Ophilia was technically the reason that all of them had met. Her journey as part of the Kindling had brought them all together, and beyond that, she had pushed past Saintsbridge to meet her and Therion. If not for Ophilia, H'aanit would never have met the rest of them. Even if Aelfric had pushed her in the right direction, it was still a relief for H'aanit in a thousand different ways. 

H'aanit let out a careful breath, surprising herself with just how grounded she was despite the way her mind had been whirling just a few minutes prior. For the first time since finding Z'aanta's statue, H'aanit was confident that they were going to be alright. It wasn't going to be easy, but nothing the group had done up to that point had been expressly simple to begin with. Fighting against Rufus and dismantling his ring had been difficult, and yet, there they were. The same applied to pulling the ruby dragonstone from Orlick's fingers and defeating Vanessa when she threatened the lives of countless innocent people. They had accomplished much, and they would no doubt continue to do powerful work as long as they remained together. 

"What could I have ever donen to deserven thee?" H'aanit found herself whispering even though she didn't think she needed or wanted an answer. She was happy to simply be there with the other members of the group, and as long as they were by her side, she knew that she was going to be alright. This was everything that she had ever needed and then some, and she couldn't have imagined anything better. 

Times were hard, but they were going to get through it. After all, that was what family always did. 

~~~~~

Tressa couldn't help the way her eyes popped as she walked into the library of Stonegard. It was a small building tucked away in the upper half of the city, its walls made from the same pure rock from which the town found its name. Everything about the space was impressive as could be between the books that lined every wall and shelf and the gentle flicker of candlelight that seemed to cast everything in a gentle aura of mystery that Tressa didn't think she had ever seen up to that point. It felt like something straight out of a mystery novel, and Tressa couldn't keep herself from staring no matter how hard she tried. 

Tressa shook off her shock a moment later, forcing herself to put one foot in front of the other. She was here for a reason, and she couldn't afford to get distracted. After the group got back to the inn, they scattered for their individual activities for the rest of the day. Tressa had taken to shopping for supplies for the next leg of their journey. The path to Saintsbridge was going to be long and difficult even if they stopped off in Wellspring for a short while. They had no business in the desert town for the time being, but it wouldn't hurt for them to at least visit the city once to ensure they could use the Warp Staff to get there later. As far as Tressa could tell, they would have to travel to Wellspring eventually since that was where the black market auction Heathcote spoke of was centered. The auctions wouldn't be starting for quite a while yet, but it certainly wouldn't hurt for the group to go there briefly. 

That didn't change the fact that the party would have to push all the way through to Saintsbridge before they could do anything else, and that likely meant much more work in terms of travel than they had been forced to put in up to now. Tressa had been more than happy to take care of their supplies for the journey, but she had finished sooner than she expected, and that gave her all the time she could ask for to explore Stonegard. 

In the end, she decided to travel to the library since she had heard that Cyrus was going there to look over the map that Barham had given him. Tressa was just as interested in the shrines as anyone else in the group, and if anything, her curiosity had doubled itself after she received the Tempest Spear in Bifelgan's shrine. She couldn't help wondering if perhaps the group would run into yet another shrine on the way to Saintsbridge, and if anybody was going to know, it was going to be Cyrus. 

Tressa shuffled her way through the shelves carefully, and she eventually found Cyrus looking at the map from behind a small stack of tomes near the rear of the building. It was just like Cyrus to find a quiet corner to curl up in, and Tressa couldn't help smiling at the sight of him. She approached him carefully, but he didn't notice her until she tapped his shoulder. "Hey there, Cyrus."

The scholar immediately came out of his trance, seemingly shocked at the fact that he had company at all. "Ah, Tressa. I didn't realize you had joined me," he said. He straightened out the stack of books off to his right before meeting her gaze, and Tressa mused on how he intended to read so much in such a short period of time. "What brings you here?"

"I finished topping off our supplies, so I figured I'd see what you were up to," Tressa replied simply. She pulled up a chair from a nearby empty table before sitting down beside him, eyeing the stack of books off to the side. "What are all those books about?"

"The map that Barham gave me has quite a few notable locations marked, but some of them do not belong here," Cyrus explained. "Not all of these points can hold shrines because of the limited number of shrines. I've already marked down the shrines of Aelfric, Alephan, Bifelgan, and Brand that we have visited before now, but finding the others is proving to be a bit more difficult than I thought. Since there are a few locations that will not hold shrines here, I wanted to do as much research as I could to narrow down our searching scope."

"That way, we won't go to a location we think has a shrine and be disappointed," Tressa finished with a small nod. "If you can rule out some spots because they have powerful magic for other reasons, then we won't wind up going around in circles since we have the answers early."

"Precisely," Cyrus responded, nodding once again as he pointed to the map with one finger. "There are a few locations that we'll encounter on the way to Saintsbridge. One of the spots is just outside Saintsbridge while another is near Wellspring. Since we will likely be stopping in Wellspring briefly for the sake of the Warp Staff's power, we can investigate both of these locations along the way. Unfortunately, I cannot rule either one of these locations out as false, so we'll simply have to see for ourselves if they hold shrines or not when we get there."

Tressa nodded at that before her gaze fell on the marker over Flamesgrace on the map. "You don't think there's anything in Flamesgrace?" she asked. "It wouldn't be all that hard to check if there was a shrine there, but..."

"Ophilia has always had the strongest connection with the gods out of us," Cyrus explained. "If there was a shrine in her immediate area, she no doubt would have found it before she began her travels. On top of that, I can explain what that magical power is rather easily: the Sacred Flame."

"That's right," Tressa realized. "The Sacred Flame is from Aelfric's magic, and it's one of the strongest powers on the continent. I guess it makes sense that we could rule out Flamesgrace since that explanation makes a lot of sense."

"There are still quite a few locations here that need to be ruled out since I have roughly sixteen spots to look at," Cyrus frowned. "I believe I'll get there in time. This will get easier for me once we've reached Saintsbridge. After all, I'll be able to either mark down or rule out the two locations that we'll cross on the way there."

"You're right," Tressa murmured. "I suppose that you have everything under control then."

"It was a daunting task at first, but I must confess that I've rather enjoyed being able to make these deductions," Cyrus confessed, a smile quickly finding a home on his features. "This has been an intriguing experience, to say the least, and I'm excited to see where it takes us next. In the meantime, I would love to learn more about the legendary weapons that the gods have passed down to us."

"I wonder what the other weapons are going to be like," Tressa remarked. "I mean, we've already got four of them, and I can only imagine that the others are going to be just as incredible. Then there's the powers of the gods... I suppose we haven't really had much time to use them yet."

"I've done a bit more research into the gifts that ancient texts have related to the gods, and I've found that they match up with what we've heard about from the previous shrines," Cyrus told her. "Aelfric has the gift of a second chance, Alephan's strength is unparalleled focus, Bifelgan grants the power of good fortune, and Brand has a power beyond compare. It'll likely be a while before we can see them in action in full, but it's still an interesting matter to think about until then."

"You're right," Tressa said with a nod. "I want to see what all of those powers mean when we get the chance... Perhaps we'll be able to fight with those skills in the next battle against a god. I mean, we don't know for sure what shrine we're going to run into next--or if we'll even find one at all before Saintsbridge--but I'm sure looking forward to learning more about all of this. I never thought I would take this much interest in the gods, but..."

"Given how closely tied we have come to be with them, it makes a lot of sense that you would grow so intrigued," Cyrus finished for her, and Tressa nodded her confirmation as the scholar continued. "I've always found myself interested in matters relating to magic and the ancient powers of Orsterra, though I admit my research has often skewed more towards the former. I love learning more about the world we find ourselves in, and these new types of magic... They prove a hypothesis I have been working on for quite some time, and I'm looking forward to seeing where it takes us."

"We're bound to run into a god with a new element soon enough," Tressa commented. "Come to think of it, the Lord of the Forest could control the plant life in the Spectrewood... I wonder if that could possibly be an indicator of some new type of magic. Then again, I suppose only time will be able to tell what we're going to find there."

"Either way, I'm excited to see where this path takes us next," Cyrus smiled. "I never would have imagined that this sabbatical would prove to be so fruitful, but it seems to me that my research will be going much further here than it ever could have in Atlasdam."

"That's all the more reason for us to find out more then," Tressa beamed. She glanced back down to the map and scanned over all of the potential shrine locations. "We're going to find something great soon. I can just feel it. And when we do..."

"I can only imagine that we'll have much more knowledge about our world than we could have ever imagined," Cyrus finished. He looked back down to the map himself and began to scan through the locations Barham had marked before he reached for a book at the top of his stack. He flicked through a few pages, his expression slipping into neutrality as he was once again absorbed by his research. 

Tressa couldn't help smiling at the sight, and she let out a small sigh before leaning back in her chair. She never would have thought that she would find something like this when she left Rippletide, but she was glad that she had given herself the chance to branch out. This journey only seemed to get more incredible as time went by, and she couldn't wait to see what came next. 

She reached for her journal where it rested in her bag, and as soon as she got her hands on a pen, she began to write.

Chapter Text

The sun crept over the horizon slowly the following morning, bringing gentle light to the clouded skies of the Highlands. H'aanit rose with the sun as usual, and she found herself just outside the inn. She breathed in carefully to try and steady herself for the long journey ahead. The path to Saintsbridge was bound to be arduous, but she knew that she had to press onward. It was the next step of the group's adventure, and that meant that it was the next step she could take towards rescuing Z'aanta. 

H'aanit still didn't think she had recovered from seeing her mentor turned to stone in the Spectrewood. She had done her best to pull herself back down to reality, but it always seemed like something was keeping her from fully settling down in light of her recent discoveries. Talking to Ophilia and Primrose had helped her out, yes, but there was a lot that she still found herself struggling with. Ophilia had insisted that it was alright to struggle, but H'aanit was still having a hard time convincing herself of that. The idea was certainly a shift from what she was used to, and grappling with that was a unique experience, to put it simply. 

Slowly but surely, the other travelers rose as well, and about two hours after the sun came up, they were ready to set out for Saintsbridge. They would be heading to Wellspring first to activate the Warp Staff so they could return there when the time came to investigate the black market auction. Plus, they would be able to check out a potential shrine location on the way there before making their way to Saintsbridge in the afternoon. H'aanit welcomed the distraction; it meant that she would be focused on the journey rather than thinking about everything that had happened to Z'aanta over the course of the last year. The last thing H'aanit wanted to muse on was Z'aanta's encounter with Redeye, so she was more than happy to focus instead on the shrines ahead.

Tressa was the one who led the typical final supply check that day, looking through everything the group had with a smile on her face and a tune on her tongue. Her excitement over the shrines had practically multiplied after she spoke with Cyrus in the Stonegard library the day before, so she was perhaps the most prepared of all of them to set out and see what was waiting for them next. H'aanit had to admit that Tressa's glee was infectious, and it was certainly a relief to see after how difficult the last day had been for her. Before H'aanit knew it, she found herself smiling as well, and she couldn't object to that in the slightest. She needed all the encouragement she could get at this point.

"Alright!" Tressa exclaimed as she tucked her supply notebook back into her bag. She adjusted the feather sticking out of her hat before gripping at the straps of her backpack. "We should be ready to go. Assuming there are no other objections, let's get on the road to Wellspring!" 

H'aanit nodded, and she began to trail after the other members of the group. Linde remained at her side just like always, though H'aanit could tell that Linde didn't want to leave Hägen behind. They both knew that Hägen would be alright and that he would look after Z'aanta well, but that didn't change their wish to bring him along. Still, Hägen had made up his mind, and there was nothing they could do to change it now.

"H'aanit, wait!"

The sound of a familiar voice had H'aanit pausing, and the rest of the group stopped along with her. The huntress turned to see none other than Natalia standing behind her on the stairs not far from the town's exit. "Natalia?" H'aanit questioned softly as the woman descended the steps to stand beside the huntress.

"I'm so glad I caught ye," Natalia said with a small yet relieved smile. "Here. This is for yer journey." 

She handed H'aanit a small bag, and as soon as H'aanit had it in her fingertips, she realized it was filled to the brim with leaves. H'aanit blinked a few times in pure shock before glancing up to meet Natalia's gaze. "There was no need for thee to..." H'aanit murmured, unsure of what could even be said. Something about Natalia's iron determination told H'aanit that she wouldn't be accepting the coin back no matter what the huntress tried, much to H'aanit's chagrin. 

Natalia shook her head. "It's a trifle compared to what ye and Eliza are doin'," she told H'aanit firmly. "Z'aanta was a good friend to me after my husband passed away and all. Now I can't go fightin' no monsters like you two..."

H'aanit took a small step forward. "Yes, but--"

Natalia was quick to cut her off, still refusing to hear any objections. "So the least I can do is help ye on yer journey. Let me do that much at least," she whispered, voice so full of love and gratitude that H'aanit barely knew how to respond. Everything about Natalia's posture bled sympathy and care, and H'aanit couldn't help thinking that she understood why Z'aanta had been drawn to her. She truly was an incredible woman. 

After another long moment of hesitation, H'aanit nodded and tucked the bag of leaves away with the rest of her supplies. "Of course," she murmured. "Thanke thee for the gift."

"And, er, one more thing..." Natalia began to say after a brief pause. "Promise me ye won't do anythin' foolish now, will ye? Even for Z'aanta's sake."

H'aanit knew the truth that hung heavily over their conversation, though she truly wished that was not the case. There was nothing either one of them could do to guarantee H'aanit would return safely. As long as a beast as dangerous as Redeye was involved, they were going to be dancing on uncertainty. The fact that Z'aanta had been turned to stone already made that much clear, and there was nothing H'aanit could say to make the truth of the matter change for the better.

However, she didn't want to be the one to say it out loud, so she simply nodded. "I will be cautious," H'aanit assured Natalia, and she wished with everything she had that it was as simple as that. Perhaps she wouldn't have found herself in a situation like this in the first place if it was really so easy. "After all, I'll be of no use to Master if I get myself killed."

Natalia nodded, her posture visibly relaxing with H'aanit's words. "Exactly," she confirmed. H'aanit's words weren't entirely full of promise, but it was seemingly more than enough to calm Natalia's fears. She waved with a small smile on her face, all of a sudden seeming much older than she had any right to. "Good luck to ye, H'aanit."

H'aanit nodded as well. "Thanke thee. I promise that I will returnen and with Master at my side," she announced, and when she said it out loud, H'aanit started to believe it despite her previous fears. It was alright that she was afraid; that wasn't going to stop her from finding a way to return Z'aanta to the light. 

She knew what had to be done, and nothing was going to stop her now. 

H'aanit started to walk away from there, and the rest of the travelers followed her. Natalia offered one final fleeting wave before her hand fell back to her side. She stood there at the entrance of Stonegard until the group had vanished on the horizon, and she watched for a short while afterwards as well. "I believe in ye, H'aanit," Natalia whispered simply, and with that, she turned around to retreat back to her home, heavy hope soaring in her heart. 

~~~~~

H'aanit continued to focus on putting one foot in front of the other as the group continued in the direction of Wellspring and Saintsbridge. Tressa was at the front of the party with Cyrus not far behind her. Both of them were studying different maps, though Cyrus' was the one the group had picked up from Barham back in Noblecourt. H'aanit would have normally preferred to be a bit more active in her attempts to stay focused on the road ahead, but given how much had happened within the last twenty-four hours, she was fine with letting the others take the lead for a short while.

"Hey, H'aanit."

The familiar voice of Alfyn pulled H'aanit out of her daze, and she glanced over to him as he went on. "Hunting ain't an easy life, is it?" he questioned simply. It was clearly his attempt at trying to make conversation, not that H'aanit was particularly complaining on the matter. 

She shook her head at his words. "I am still but a prentice, not a hunter true," H'aanit replied. She did what she could to help others with her work, but she was still nowhere close to being on Z'aanta's level. It was that very insecurity that had her so terrified of what was going to happen when they ran into Redeye. There was no way that Eliza would be able to fight against the beast alone if it had managed to defeat even Z'aanta. H'aanit wasn't going to stand much of a chance either, not that she was going to let it deter her. Not yet.

"Tell me, is your master a good man?" Alfyn asked. A small smile began to spread across his features. "Mine is." He fell silent for a beat, thinking about his words before awkwardness began to flourish on his face once more. No matter how emotionally intelligent he was, his skills with words were still somewhat lacking when he needed them most. "Well, he's not my 'master,' per se. Just someone I look up to more than anyone. I haven't met him in years. Still, if I knew he was in danger, even vicious fiends couldn't stop me from rushin' to his aid." Alfyn quieted before glancing up to H'aanit and meeting her gaze. He winced for a moment before shaking his head and staring down at the ground once more. "Sorry. I didn't mean to offend. I'm just sayin', I think I know how you feel, that's all. Anyway, just remember I'm here to fix up any wounds you suffer on the way so you don't have to hold anything back in your quest to save him!"

H'aanit continued to watch Alfyn for another long moment, gathering her resolve and her words. He tilted his head to the side, his frown and nerves starting to get the better of him. "Hm? What's the matter?" he asked, anxiety clear with every syllable he spoke.

"I was merely waiting for my turn to speaken," H'aanit assured him, and Alfyn immediately relaxed from pure relief. "And now that it has come, allow me to thanken thee... From the bottom of mine heart."

Alfyn smiled at that, no doubt glad that his words had struck their intended effect. He seemed to be resting easier than he had been when the group was still in Goldshore, and for that, H'aanit was relieved on his behalf. He deserved that much even if Vanessa had tried to push for the contrary. "We're all here for you no matter what happens. Even if times get rough from here on, we'll look after one another. I think we work well together..." His gaze shifted ahead to where Cyrus and Tressa were standing, and he eyed the Tundra of Tomes hanging off Cyrus' hip and the Tempest Spear where it rested with the remainder of Tressa's supplies. "And I'm not just talkin' about what the gods want us to do."

H'aanit couldn't help smiling at that, and she allowed her eyes to slip shut. Redeye's presence seemed to be the warning of a great calamity on the horizon, but H'aanit was going to do everything she could to fight it. She had no idea if it was the same tragedy that the gods had spoken of when they entrusted the travelers with their strength, but it mattered little in her mind. She knew what had to be done, and as long as Z'aanta's safety was on the line, nothing was going to be able to stop her. 

Before H'aanit could stop herself, she found words tumbling from her lips once more. "Alfyn... Dost thou believen in destiny?" she asked softly. This had never been a matter of contention for her in the past, but she couldn't help her musings now. When she stood on the edge of a dangerous path, her mind wandered to anything that may comfort her in some form or another regardless of how ridiculous it seemed.

Alfyn thought about it for a moment before he shrugged. "I've always believed in the gods... And I guess I was right to do so, huh?" He shook his head a moment later to dismiss the thought. "I like to think that fate is in our own hands though. Other people don't get to say what we accomplish. We make that choice for ourselves, and... I like to think that all of us have chosen to fight together even if it's part of some destiny too. Even if fate does exist... I don't care much for it. I want to exist on my own terms, not anybody else's whims."

H'aanit nodded her agreement. In all honesty, she felt much the same way. She was comforted by the knowledge that she could accomplish anything she so desired as long as she worked towards it. She didn't want to hear that fate was set in stone, not when Z'aanta's appeared to be so overcast and tragic. H'aanit was going to do everything she could to change the truth of his petrification, and it had nothing to do with what the gods did or did not instruct of her.

"I agree," H'aanit told Alfyn. "This life is mine to liven. I wouldst not taken kindly to others attempting to controllen where I will go next. I seeke the strength to free Master from Redeye's clutches on mine own terms. This path is mine to choosen, and I have doubtless chosen the right one."

Alfyn smiled at that and nodded once again. "I'm glad you feel the same way," he murmured. His expression began to sober, and he kicked a small rock along the path before speaking once more. "I'm here because I want to be. This is my journey, and I'm going to do everything I can to help people along the way... Whether it be you, the others, or anyone outside of our group. That's what I swore to do when I decided to become an apothecary, and nothing is goin' to stop me now. I'm not gonna let that happen."

"Thou art a good man, Alfyn," H'aanit said next. "It taketh strength to healen others rather than only hurt. We could all use a bit of your knowledge in the days to come. Of that much I am certain."

Alfyn immediately flushed, red creeping into his features suddenly and mercilessly. He rubbed at the back of his neck, a nervous habit that he had possessed since long before H'aanit joined the party. "Aw, shucks..." he muttered, unable to fight off his embarrassment in full. H'aanit's eyes remained just as piercing and firm on him as ever. "Thanks for that, H'aanit. I'm glad that you're here with the rest of us too. I don't think I've ever met anyone with as much skill with a bow and arrow. This group's real lucky to have you... And not just for your fightin' strength."

H'aanit couldn't help the tender smile that spread across her face at those words. "I thanke thee," she murmured, unsure about what else could even be said in that moment. She hadn't realized just how much she needed to hear that until she finally heard it, and while those words couldn't erase the burden the last day had put on her shoulders, it was a step in the right direction. She needed all the benefits the world was willing to give her, and she was more than happy to accept Alfyn's kind words despite the tumultuous tempest her life had become. 

Alfyn fell silent soon afterwards, but his smile could be felt for ages after the fact. H'aanit was beyond glad once again that she had this incredible group at her side. She had no idea what she would have done had she been alone throughout all of this, and now, she didn't need to imagine it. She would never be on her own again as long as the others had something to say about it, and she wouldn't have had it any other way. 

Together, they could accomplish anything. Together, they could find a way to save Z'aanta.

~~~~~

As the day crawled on, the stones of the Highlands gave way to endless sands indicative of the Sunlands. Primrose would have been lying if she said that she was enthused about being back here. She hadn't known anything of the Sunlands aside from Sunshade, and while she knew it wasn't fair to take out her rage towards Helgenish on an eighth of the continent, she couldn't help wishing that the group's path didn't have to take them this way. 

Still, it wasn't as if she had much of a say in the matter. Even if the group went around Wellspring to get to Saintsbridge through use of the Warp Staff, the fact remained that they would have to come back there eventually. The black market auction wasn't set to take place for a while yet, but Primrose knew that there was no way any of them would be able to escape the inevitability of their return to the Sunlands. This way, they could save some time later when the auction for the dragonstone drew closer, and they could cross off a potential shrine spot along the way. 

Primrose reached for her dagger and began to twirl it over her fingers. The monsters had been growing stronger ever since the group first arrived in the Sunlands, not that she was surprised. She had known for ages that the Sunlands were dangerous, the riskiest land of any on Orsterra to try and travel through. Every region had monsters, but the Sunlands were comparatively unexplored territory. Helgenish had said multiple times that nobody under his thumb would survive if not for his kindness, and he wasn't just talking about poverty. Running away from Sunshade alone was a recipe for disaster. Either they'd be caught in an adjacent town or be left to rot as a corpse in the wilderness of the Sunlands. No matter what, he won and maintained his perpetual control over the dancers who worked under his command. 

Primrose couldn't help but feel as if she was rebelling against him by returning to the Sunlands. He was dead and gone, and she was proving to his corpse that she had what it took to survive without him. However, it wasn't as perfect as she would have wanted it to be. The longer she traveled through the Sunlands, the more her mind drifted back to Yusufa, a constant looming threat she couldn't escape no matter how fast she ran. 

The good thing about being on the road constantly since Yusufa's death was that Primrose didn't have to think about everything that had happened. She didn't know what she was supposed to do, and it had already been a short while since Yusufa's murder. Primrose knew that she had to push forward in the name of the friend who had suffered so much for her escape, but at the same time, the guilt that weighed over her mind was beyond suffocating. 

It was her fault that Yusufa had died. Primrose had been sloppy, and Helgenish had taken advantage of that weakness to exploit her vulnerabilities until there was nothing less. He knew what would hurt her the most because that was his foremost desire. He wanted to make sure that the people under his command knew that he was the one in charge, and if they stepped out of line, he wanted them to suffer. He always waxed poetic about how much he had done for Primrose, but when push came to shove, Helgenish wanted to hurt her just as much as everyone else, if not more so. 

Primrose still shook when she thought about Helgenish. She didn't want to admit that he still got under her skin even in death, but there were a thousand tiny needles that assaulted her the instant he entered her mind. First, she thought about Yusufa, the first friend she had found since her father's death, and how she had died for the sake of Primrose's escape. Second, she thought about everything she had suffered at Helgenish's hands, the constant violence that continued to live on in her mind even when the bruises faded from her body. Third, she thought about how much she had been forced to sacrifice in order to push on towards the future. 

Revenge was all that Primrose had known for so long. It was her only option for a decade, and it continued to be her only choice now as well. That was the only reason she had put up with Helgenish for so long: it furthered her own purposes. But was revenge truly worth it? Vengeance had cost her Yusufa because she had gotten sloppy and let her weaknesses show long enough for Helgenish to push them both into submission. Primrose hadn't felt that burning pulse of revenge much as of late. When she did feel it, the sensation was much weaker than it had been in the past. 

She knew why that was. Primrose was fully aware of why she didn't care about revenge anymore, and it had everything to do with the company she had come to keep. Imperfect as they were, the travelers had brought her out of one of the darkest parts of her life. Stepping away from Helgenish was like finally feeling the sun fall on her face once again after being hidden in the shadows for years upon years. They were the ones who showed her that freedom was possible, that freedom was something she deserved. 

For a long time, Primrose had been sure she didn't understand what love was. She had lost all connections to it when her father was murdered, and it got to the point that she didn't understand the depth of Yusufa's care until it was too late. However, when she fought and spent time with the other travelers, Primrose found herself consumed by a love so deep and endless that she felt like it would give her the power to fly if she closed her eyes and believed hard enough. 

But she always seemed to come back down to earth in the end. She couldn't escape her need for revenge forever the same way she couldn't escape the guilt that assaulted her mercilessly in desert sands. Primrose wished she could soar above all of these desolate dunes and arrive somewhere that would allow her fears of her past and present to be banished once and for all, but she knew better than to believe that was actually going to happen. For the time being, she had other work to do, and unfortunately, that meant pressing on through the sands near Wellspring. 

Out of the corner of Primrose's eye, she saw something scuttle across the sand. Her eyes narrowed, and she concentrated her energy into a blast of dark magic that sent the small beast flying backwards. Tressa stopped walking for a moment to look over her shoulder to see what the noise had been, but Primrose didn't look up to offer an explanation, instead simply continuing to twirl her dagger over her fingers. Tressa frowned before turning back around, seemingly willing to leave the subject alone, at least for the time being. 

Primrose could only hope that she and the other members of the group were able to finish their business in the area quickly so they could leave. She would rather fight one of the gods than be forced to sit alone with her own thoughts any longer than she already had been, though she supposed that was a given. Of course she didn't want to think about what was happening elsewhere in the sands. Sunshade was still so close, and Primrose couldn't seem to pull herself away from its lingering threads no matter how hard she tried. 

"Here we are."

Primrose didn't know how much time had passed since she attacked the monster when she came back to reality, but she was sure that it must have been a while. The other members of the group had stopped walking, and when Primrose glanced up, she could clearly see why. Wellspring stood tall and proud in front of them, and she let out a heavy sigh. They were one step closer to being able to leave this place behind, and Primrose couldn't have asked for anything better. She was tired of being here, and it hadn't even been that long since they got the Sunlands to begin with. 

Cyrus gestured for the rest of the group to follow him into the town. Primrose shuffled along from the back of the party, relieved when she realized just how little Wellspring had in common with Sunshade. Wellspring was a tired little town that existed far from the eyes of others, but it wasn't anywhere near as cryptic or criminal as Sunshade had been. Even if there was a black market auction slated to happen there within the next few months, Primrose was willing to take it over the terrible ring that she had found herself in when she arrived on Helgenish's doorstep. Anything was better than having to see something like that again. 

Cyrus didn't linger for long. He pulled out the Warp Staff and examined it carefully. Primrose had no idea how he was able to check that the Warp Staff had internalized their arrival in Wellspring, but she watched him regardless. He seemed to be satisfied after a few moments, and he tucked the staff out of view again soon afterwards. "Alright. That should be all the business we need to take care of for the time being," he announced. 

Therion hummed at that before looking out at the rest of the town. "I can certainly see why people behind illegal dealings would come here to sell their wares," he muttered. He didn't elaborate on it any further, though Primrose was fine with that. Any town could be as criminal as it so chose as long as it didn't cross the same line that Sunshade and Stillsnow had. If anything, it was a relief to Primrose that Wellspring's illicit activity came nowhere close to the tragedies that she had witnessed in Sunshade and Stillsnow. Perhaps seeing that Wellspring was a normal town for the most part would be her first step to erasing the damage that Sunshade had done to her psyche. She couldn't say for sure, but she was willing to go along with it. 

"We can worry about that later," Olberic told Therion. "For the time being, we need to try and get to Saintsbridge by sundown. If all goes well, we should be able to travel to the nearby potential shrine location and see if it has what we're looking for. If not, then we'll simply keep going in the direction of Saintsbridge and get an inn room before beginning the next step of the Kindling tomorrow."

Ophilia and Tressa had come to stand on either side of Cyrus as he examined the map Barham had given him. "Hm... It seems as if the shrine isn't far from here. We didn't run into it given the path we were following, but the shrine should be nearby regardless," he murmured. He nodded before tucking the map away and glancing to Ophilia. "Do you believe you will be able to get us where we need to go if we can get close enough?"

Ophilia nodded. "I hope so," she replied, one hand drifting to where the Ember rested at her hip. "For now, we should try and see what we can find just in case the lanthorn doesn't take us where we need to be... Though I somehow doubt Aelfric is going to let us simply pass a shrine by."

Primrose nodded her agreement, her mind flashing back to Ophilia's past encounters with the goddess of the Sacred Flame. Primrose shook off images of Ophilia possessed by Aelfric's influence before taking another step towards the entrance of the town. "Let's get to it then," she declared. Even if she was feeling better after seeing Wellspring for herself, the lingering anxiety from her past yet remained. The best way for her to resolve it was to leave entirely, and she was most certainly willing to do that. 

The other members of the group trailed after Primrose, and Cyrus took to the front of the group to lead them in the right direction. Once again, Primrose allowed her thoughts to drift away from the situation at hand, and her mind replayed images of Sunshade again and again on an endless loop. She couldn't even bring herself to respond to the cruelty of her memories though; she was too focused on the task at hand even if it certainly didn't seem like it to her or anyone else. 

Primrose continued to focus on putting one foot in front of the other as the sands ahead continued to stretch endlessly. She let out a careful sigh, her mind lingering briefly on how soft Yusufa's hands had been when they touched what felt like a lifetime ago. Primrose did her best to not feel sick from the idea that she would never be able to experience that again. Not anymore. 

When all of this was over, Primrose was going to visit Yusufa's grave. It was the least she could do for her first true friend.

Chapter Text

It didn't take anywhere near as long as Primrose would have expected for the group to make it through the desert sands in the direction of the potential shrine location. Well, potential was a poor word to describe the situation. After all, the Ember was glowing brighter than ever at the center of the sandstorm, and Primrose could see a notable dune rise above the rest in a pattern that matched the past shrines all too well. In other words, they had found something, and they wouldn't be leaving the Sunlands until after they had received the power of yet another god. 

Cyrus approached the sand dune carefully. He had been using wind magic to guide the sand around the group so they wouldn't be pelted so extensively, and it was certainly coming in handy. Ophilia followed his lead with the Ember still raised, and the doors to the shrine immediately began to slide apart. Primrose hadn't even realized they were there because of the thick layer of sand that had fallen over the entrance to the shrine, and she took a small step back so her shoes weren't left filled with the tiny dust. The others followed suit, and they all watched as the shrine slowly but surely revealed itself to them. 

Cyrus allowed his casting to wind down as he stepped into the cave, the others hot on his heels. Primrose's shoes were filled with sand regardless of her attempts to make sure that didn't happen, and she sighed after they were inside the shrine once more. She was quick to pull off her shoes to pour out the lingering pieces of sand, shaking her head along the way. "I should have known that we wouldn't be getting out of the Sunlands without a few problems," she muttered. "Though I suppose there's nothing we can do about it now."

"We've got another god to fight, so it's probably for the best if we make sure that we don't have any sand in our shoes. I don't know how sand is going to translate into the battlefield for the upcoming fight, but I don't want to take any chances," Tressa said as she did much the same thing as Primrose. Tressa winced as she dusted off the bottom of her shoes with one hand. "I'm used to sand from back home, but this is just ridiculous. I don't know how anybody can live in a place like this. At least Sunshade was able to survive with relatively few sandstorms."

"You're not looking forward to coming back to Wellspring then, I take it?" Therion asked with a loose snort. Primrose could tell that he was responding that way because he wasn't excited about it either. If the weather was going to fight them so furiously, then uncovering the black market auction was going to be even harder than it had any right to be, and Primrose doubted it would be a walk in the park to begin with. 

"Not at all," Tressa confirmed with a heavy sigh as she slid her shoes back on. She paused to look around the shrine a moment later, trying to find out what other details she should be keeping in mind. She frowned before sighing, her eyes falling to the black flames that danced dangerously in the torches on the wall. "I don't think we're going to be able to see all that well here."

Primrose nodded her agreement as she turned her attention to the path ahead. The black fire was illuminating the area, albeit only barely, and that was certainly going to make this fight much harder. She thought about it briefly and realized that it had to be some kind of dark magic. The gods could manipulate the elements as they so pleased, but something about this felt different, almost familiar to her. Whoever was waiting at the end of this path knew what they were doing when it came to the power of shadows. 

At least Primrose would have one thing in common with whoever they fought against next. 

The path ahead was much the same as it had been with the previous shrines. As soon as the doors slid shut, Primrose started walking forward, surprised at just how easy it was for her to press onwards despite the minimal lighting. Then again, she supposed that was just par for the course. This was going to be their fifth time fighting against a god, and she could only hope that she knew what she was doing by this point. If not, then she worried for what the group would be getting up to next. 

When the group arrived at the end of the pathway, a few streams of light could be seen shining through the ceiling. The places where the light hit the ground spawned small piles of sand, and Primrose could only guess that it was some kind of magic keeping the area lit from above while also keeping out much of the sand that obscured the shrine from prying eyes. She shook it off though, instead choosing to concentrate her attention on the carving that rested on the altar before her. 

The stone created a fan pattern, and Primrose found herself touching it carefully. She once again processed that something about the magic bubbling beneath the surface feeling familiar before light started to rush into her vision. Primrose clamped her eyes shut, knowing what was coming as the world shifted from beneath her feet. She knew that when she next focused on the world around her, the shrine would be gone, replaced instead with the battlefield created by the god of the hour. 

Sure enough, that was the case when Primrose opened her eyes once more. She glanced around with a small frown, curiosity quickly getting the better of her. She had been expecting to see her foe for the time being soon after the fact, but instead, she was met with nothing, familiar or otherwise. Ophilia's Ember seemed to glow even brighter than ever before, ready to respond the instant the truth revealed itself. 

Primrose saw the shadows stirring at the far edge of the cave soon afterwards, and she realized that the god was using the darkness to mask themselves. Primrose took a small step forward, but she was cut off when the god finally made themselves known by stepping free of the twisting blackness that lined the battlefield. 

The goddess' hair was brown and fell down to her hips in gentle curls like the rise and fall of desert sand dunes. Her eyes were hidden by an ornate mask of purple, red, and gold, effortlessly keeping her secrets locked away from the rest of the world. Her top was made of short velvet red fabric and was lined with gentle golden swirls. Her skirt had a slit running down either side, and it connected at her hips with a pattern of golden decorations. Primrose could see shorts beneath her skirt, though they were black and difficult to see given the circumstances. Her skirt was red near her hips and faded out to purple near her feet. 

Golden anklets lined her legs, and bracelets did much the same for her arms. A golden strip of transparent fabric connected her two wrists in a grand display of elegance. Various gemstones seemed to be braided into the fabric, and upon closer inspection, Primrose realized that the same applied to the woman's hair. The woman's skin was tanned to match the complexion of most people who lived in the desert. Everything about her was so overwhelmingly perfect that she didn't even seem real, almost as if she had stepped forth from a painting with all the grace in the world to make her home within the shrine that thrived in the shadows of the desert. 

"Welcome, travelers," the goddess proclaimed. When she moved, the jewelry across her body gave light jingling sounds that sounded like the whisper of Orsterra's smallest bells. She was the perfect picture of elegance, and she knew it better than anyone. "I am Sealticge... Thou must be the children who seeketh mine strength."

"That would be correct," Ophilia confirmed with a small nod. She tucked the Ember away before reaching for the Illumination Staff where it rested with her other supplies. "I believe we all know what we have to do next... You want to test our skills in battle, yes?"

Sealticge smiled before nodding. "Thou art perceptive fighters... I am glad to see it. Now... If thou art ready..." She reached to her hip, and when her hand pulled away, she was holding a small fan. Primrose hadn't even realized it was there because of the ornate decorations that kept the weapon so well hidden. "The time has come for us to begin."

Sealticge waited for everyone to raise their weapons, and as soon as they were ready, she rushed forward, charging her fan with dark magic. The shadows throughout the shrine shifted at her whims, and she quickly smacked Cyrus in the side with the fan. Her magic had charged up the attack and given it much more strength than it would have had otherwise, and that was more than enough to make Cyrus yelp in shock and stumble backwards. He summoned a quick column of ice to fall back on so that he could steady himself, but the ice did not remain intact for long. Sealticge danced around him a beat later before smacking the ice with her fan, and the small shards of jagged sharpness flew outwards in all direction, forcing Cyrus to throw up the Tome of Tundras to block his face. 

Sealticge was more than able to kick his legs out from beneath him a moment later, sending Cyrus sprawling to the ground. From there, all it took was a single blast of dark magic for Cyrus to slide backwards before coming to a stop near the edge of the cave, a groan on his lips and dizziness written plain as could be across his features. He raised one hand to rub at his head, and Primrose could already tell that he wouldn't be able to enter the fray once more until after he had been healed. 

Alfyn began dashing towards Cyrus at that, but Sealticge wasn't going to let him arrive at his destination without a fight. She sent out another blast of dark magic to hit him in the side, and Alfyn slid through the cave before throwing a few ingredients together into a small concoction. He threw the finished product directly at Sealticge, and while the resulting blasts of magic were hardly powerful, it was still more than enough to distract her for long enough for Alfyn to reach Cyrus' side. Immedaitely afterwards, Alfyn propped the scholar up and began to patch up his head wound, trusting the others to handle the next stage of the battle. 

Sealticge had taken this opportunity to spin in a circle, magic starting to spread across her body. At first, Primrose wasn't sure what she was doing, but it became clear soon afterwards. The black flames scattered throughout the arena began to roar with intensity, and that told Primrose all she needed to know. Sealticge had used her powers to boost her magical strength for a short while. She wasn't the strongest physically, instead primarily relying on her speed to get the job done, but her magical prowess was certainly something to be feared. The stronger her magic was, the more difficult it would be to defeat her. 

Olberic dashed behind Sealticge, the Sword of Stone at the read. He lashed out in a wide arc to try and catch her off guard, but Sealticge was too fast for that, ducking around the blade in any way she could. Unfortunately for her, that wasn't enough to completely escape Olberic's wrath. He stomped one foot against the ground, and she was struck in the ankle by a quick column of earth that sprouted up from nowhere. The display wasn't much given how inexperienced they all still were when it came to fighting with earth magic, but it was enough to make Sealticge stumble out of the way. 

Therion followed up on the weakness this opportunity had presented, stabbing at her with his dagger shining brightly. Sealticge was barely able to get out of the way in time, though that didn't last for long. Tressa sent a quick shot of air magic in her direction, and Sealticge was forced into Therion's direction by the strike. The thief was waiting for her, and he stabbed in her arm's direction with his knife. The resulting injury was hardly a large one, but it was still enough to show that the goddess was certainly rattled. 

Sealticge flashed her fan before smacking it against Therion's wrist. He wasn't expecting the strike, so he instinctively let go of his knife. The dagger fell to Sealticge's feet, and she kicked it away with as much force as she could muster. Therion snarled in her direction, able to tell easily that she was going to follow up on the attack with everything she had as soon as the opportunity arose. Sure enough, she hit him in the side with her fan before charging up yet another dark magic attack and sending it flying. 

Therion attempted to jump out of the way, but there was only so much he could do on that front. He threw up one hand, creating a small orb of fiery magic along the way. The flames ate away at the darkness, and the two elements exploded against one another with much more force than Primrose would have ever expected. Therion was knocked off his feet from the blast, and he rolled across the ground before coming to a stop not far from his knife. He reached for the dagger with a groan, rubbing at his temple with his free hand.

Sealticge, on the other hand, had managed to stay on her feet, but she was even more disoriented than Therion. She tripped over herself briefly before somehow managing to reclaim her balance. She let out a heavy breath before letting out yet another quick spin. This time, when she got ready to charge off to battle once again, she was faster than ever before, and Primrose could only assume that her magic and speed had both received upgrades because of her magic. 

Olberic was quick to jump in the way to make sure Sealticge didn't deal any further damage to Therion. Sealticge's fan clashed fiercely against the Sword of Stone, though Olberic clearly had the upper hand in terms of strength. Sealticge was only managing to hang on for so long because she was trying to find a way to outwit Olberic in terms of balance and grace. Her superior speed was going to work to her advantage if she used it properly; she just had to find an opening. 

During this brief lull in the battle, Ophilia released a gentle mist of healing magic that fell on all the travelers from above. That was seemingly the last little bit of energy Cyrus and Therion needed, as the two were back on their feet soon afterwards. Alfyn reached for his axe as soon as he was sure that Cyrus was alright, ready to strike the instant Sealticge showed any signs of weakness once more. Of course, that would probably take another few moments given how closely tied up she was with Olberic. Neither one of them had yielded yet in their confrontation, and Primrose couldn't say for sure which of them was going to come out victorious. 

Time continued to stretch by agonizingly, and neither Olberic nor Sealticge was able to make any progress to take the upper hand over the other. It was incredible just how even the fight was, and Primrose had to admit that she was impressed. Sealticge's weapon was much smaller and appeared much less sturdy than Olberic's sword, and yet, she had no problems with pushing back against him. If anything, it just seemed to be yet another day for her, and she could barely bring herself to care less. Primrose wished that there was something she could do, but it would be hard to strike at Sealticge without doing something that could potentially put Olberic at a disadvantage where she would be able to lash out at him. 

Nearby, Ophilia watched the fight as well, and she seemed to suddenly be taken by an idea. Her eyes went wide before she pressed her hands together in front of her chest. A moment later, light burst from the ceiling, striking the ground not far from Sealticge. She let out a cry of shock before staggering away, holding one hand up to her face to try and block out the light. Even if she was wearing a mask, the illumination seemed to pain her, and the goddess was left breathing heavily as a result of her shock. 

Primrose gasped as soon as she realized just what Ophilia had done. Before, Sealticge had been distracted when an explosion rocked the area, no doubt a result of the light that came with Therion's fiery magic clashing with her darkness. Sealticge's element appeared to be darkness, so it was no wonder that she was struggling when it came to being forced to face the light. She thrived in the shadows, and being pulled away from that was going to put her at a disadvantage. 

As soon as this realization dawned on everyone, their tactics began to change. Olberic followed up on Sealticge's moment of weakness and primed his blade in her direction before dashing past her, opening a slice on her arm along the way. Sealticge cried out in pain before letting one hand rise up to nurse her injury. When she pulled her fingers back, there was crimson staining her skin, and she let out a careful breath before looking back to him once more. Olberic was raring up for another attack, but Sealticge jumped out of the way and to safety. 

At least, she assumed that it was safety, but all it really did was bring her perfectly into Tressa's range. The merchant raised her spear, and wind began to slash at Sealticge from all directions. She cried out in pain before Cyrus released another blast of light magic, and the darkness of the shrine seemed to subside for a few precious moments. Sealticge raised her fan to block out the light, but it was clear that she had already lost her previous sense of balance. 

Still, she more than possessed her speed even after all of that, so she was more than able to jump out of the way when she realized Alfyn was approaching her from behind with his axe at the ready. Unfortunately for Sealticge, H'aanit had been waiting for that, and the huntress let a single arrow fly through the shrine to strike the goddess in the shoulder. The arrow had been laced with thunder magic, and that left another burst of light to echo throughout the area. The arrow made a clap like thunder the second it hit Sealticge, and the goddess slowed down for a moment to measure her breathing, unsure of what she was meant to do next. 

Sealticge blinked a few times from behind her mask. Primrose couldn't see it, but she was sure that was what Sealticge was doing to try and reorient herself. Sealticge remained still for a moment before twirling on the spot for a third time. Primrose could tell that this charm was different from what had been done previously, and she recognized the reason a moment later. Sealticge rushed towards Therion before the thief could take her by surprise, and all it took was a single hit from Sealticge's fan for Therion to be sent sliding backwards across the shrine's floor. He managed to keep his footing this time, but it was clear that the attack had still rattled him to the core. 

Sealticge had increased her physical strength. She knew that her weaknesses had been found, so she was trying something outside the box to make sure that the group wouldn't be able to catch her by surprise again. 

As soon as Therion was out of the picture, Sealticge rushed towards Primrose to try and take the dancer out of the fight. Primrose ducked beneath the fan smack that came at her, rolling out of the way before arriving on her feet again a few moments later. Sealticge turned to face Primrose, her speed still just as dangerous as ever, before preparing a blast of dark magic. Primrose concentrated her energy to the best of her ability and summoned fire magic before flicking her wrist. The flames darted towards the darkness, and once again, an explosion rocked the shrine. If the battlefield existed anywhere other than the mind, Primrose was sure that the shrine would have threatened to cave in because of the recent damage it had sustained. 

Unfortunately for Primrose, Sealticge was ready for the attack this time, and she was sure to look away to ensure that the explosion didn't expose any other weaknesses in her guard. After three seconds of silence from the goddess, she charged in Ophilia's direction, and the cleric threw up the Illumination Staff to keep from being hit by the fan. Sealticge was quick to kick Ophilia's feet out from beneath her before preparing to strike downwards once again. 

Ophilia was left desperate from the strike, but she still managed to concentrate her energy into a quick blast of light magic that hit the ground off to Sealticge's right. It didn't do any damage directly, but the resulting shockwave was more than enough to send the goddess careening off path. Ophilia scrambled to her feet as soon as she had the chance to do so, readying herself for another attack by raising the Illumination Staff with nervous hands. 

Sealticge's moment of weakness forced her in H'aanit's direction, but unfortunately for the goddess, the huntress was waiting for her. H'aanit raised her axe before striking down with as much force as she could muster. Sealticge let out a cry of shock and pain. At the same time, Linde lunged towards Sealticge, closing her jaws around the goddess' ankle. It was the same leg that had been injured earlier in the fight, so even when Sealticge was able to shake Linde off, the weakness remained. She had simply taken too much damage on that side of her body to be able to maintain her previous benefits of speed. Her balance had been destroyed, so dancing around the battlefield was no longer feasible for her. How could she even come close if she could only rely on one leg without risk?

Sealticge did her best to jump backwards and out of the reach of the travelers, but she wasn't able to maintain her distance for long. With one leg already out of commission, she was left open to attack from Tressa easily, and the merchant didn't even have to think twice to send out a blast of wind that knocked the goddess off her feet. Sealticge tumbled to the ground gracelessly, her fan slipping free of her fingers in the process. 

Primrose was quick to dash towards the weapon, and energy immediately flooded her body with surprising vigor. She felt as if she had suddenly been granted powers she never would have even dreamed of previously, and her eyes went wide with the sensation. Her body acted on instinct a moment later as she twirled gracefully on the spot, magic spreading outwards from the fan. 

Immediately, every member of the group seemed to grow faster, and Primrose could feel the energy rush through her muscles as well. She cast a quick spell of light magic before sending it in Sealticge's direction. Cyrus made a prison of ice to ensure that Sealticge was unable to escape as she was hit, and the goddess let out a gasp of pain. She refused to give the travelers the dignity of hearing her scream though, so she remained mostly silent as Ophilia and Alfyn both created light magic attacks of their own. 

Olberic held the Sword of Stone in Sealticge's direction, the blade primed perfectly in front of her throat. Given the fact that she was immobilized with a weapon at her neck, Sealticge was defeated. She could sense it as well, and she allowed herself to smile before nodding. Olberic sheathed his sword, and the ice around her began to dissipate, leaving her on her back. She rose to her feet carefully, though she seemed to avoid putting weight on her damaged ankle. Sealticge looked down at her leg carefully before allowing magic to start coursing through her body, healing the damage immediately. 

"Thou art impressive fighters," Sealticge remarked with a small smile. She bowed her head respectfully before finally placing her weakened foot back on the ground. The healing abilities of the gods were truly beyond impressive, and Primrose couldn't help wishing that she had the same powers. Healing magic was one thing, but the gods' strength was another matter entirely. 

"We've fought through quite a few of your allies by now. I should like to believe that we've refined our skills on the matter," Cyrus told her. He allowed the Tome of Tundras to fall shut before he placed the book back in his bag. "Is there anything you would like us to know before we depart?"

Sealticge thought about it for a moment before her gaze fell upon Primrose. The dancer was still holding the fan, though she had admittedly almost forgotten about it in the constant activity that came with the battle. "Thou hast fought well to earn my blessing. That weapon thou holdeth now is known as the Shadow Fan. Use its strength well."

"It seems to have the power to give others an increase in ability... Is that true?" Cyrus questioned, unable to hold back his curiosity. His eyes were sparking freely with his regular sense of wonder, and Primrose mused to herself on how only Cyrus would be able to go from fighting against a god so fiercely to asking questions of them in a matter of moments that way. 

Sealticge nodded. "That wouldst be one of my many abilities. When used properly alongside my gift, special dances can grant boons to one's allies," Sealticge explained. "My gift is the blessing of grace to all."

Primrose thought about it for a long moment, desperately trying to figure out what that meant, but she could only imagine that she had accidentally tapped into its power when she was trying to fight with the Shadow Fan. The grace for all was the power to give all of her allies the strength they needed to finish the battle, and she had done so with the Shadow Fan and the dance of speed. The weapon and its corresponding gift certainly opened up new possibilities for combat from then on, and Primrose found herself excited to see what she could learn, much to her own surprise. She hoped that it was never necessary to call upon such a blessing again, but something told her that it wouldn't be quite so simple. Given the travelers' track record, they would be fighting again, and it would likely be sometime soon. 

"Thank you for all that you've done for us," Ophilia smiled with a small nod. "We'll all do everything we can to uphold the blessing you've granted and save Orsterra. After all that you and your allies have granted us, this is the least we can do."

 Sealticge offered the group a small smile that was so genuine it almost felt painful to look at. "I hath no doubt of your honesty," she said simply. With that, light began to flood the area again, and Primrose was forced to press her eyes shut in the face of the overwhelming glow. Their battle with Sealticge was over, and it was time for them to return to the life they all knew so well. 

When Primrose opened her eyes once more, she was standing exactly where she had been before, one hand braced against the carving of a fan before her. Upon closer examination, she realized that the stone showed the Shadow Fan itself. When she glanced down to her other hand, she saw that the weapon was already poised delicately between her fingers, and Primrose smiled to herself. She could already tell that she was going to have countless uses for the Shadow Fan in the future. Fighting with a new weapon was bound to be a unique experience, but she was more than willing to go along with it if it meant saving Orsterra from its unknown distant demise. 

Wait... Was that her goal?

Before Primrose had the chance to wonder about why her mind had gone towards saving others rather than her own revenge, Alfyn let out a heavy sigh. "Alright then... I guess that we're finished here," he announced. "We should probably get goin' so that we can reach Saintsbridge by nightfall. It wouldn't do us any good if we got caught in the middle of the wilderness when the sun goes down."

Primrose nodded her agreement, and she was left wondering just how much time had passed in the battle. It was somewhat difficult to gauge how much time the group spent in the realm of the gods each time they entered it, though she supposed they would be able to figure that out when they went outside. She was more than happy to have the distraction from her own thoughts for the time being, so she pulled her hand away from the pedestal in full before starting towards the entrance of the shrine. They would be at Saintsbridge by the end of the day. Maybe Primrose would be able to think through everything that she had realized a few moments prior after they arrived. 

Or maybe she could not. That would be fine with her too. 

Chapter Text

The desert sands were quick to succumb to the natural rolling pastures that came with entering the Riverlands, and Ophilia couldn't tell if she was more welcoming or fearful of what was to come. She had to admit that they had finished up with their journeys to Wellspring and the surrounding areas much faster than she would have expected, and her heart skipped a beat at the idea of what she knew was going to happen next. 

Now that they had gained the blessings of Sealticge, the next step was clear to all of them: it was time to make for Saintsbridge and investigate a potential shrine location in the area. Cyrus seemed rather confident at this point that they were going to find something there. Given that they had encountered shrines near the last five towns they had passed through--each in the second ring of Orsterra's civilizations--it seemed clear as could be that they would likely find the same blessings once more. Ophilia had no idea which god would be waiting for them, but she was oddly on edge about it all. 

Ophilia had known from the start that she would be traveling to Saintsbridge to complete the second part of the Kindling. That much had been the first thing that Josef told her when she decided that she was going to be taking up the journey in Lianna's stead. However, knowing that she would be going to Saintsbridge and arriving in the Riverlands near the city were two entirely separate things, and Ophilia didn't realize just how high her anxiety was running until the rushing of stream water replaced the blustering of sandy winds. 

She should have been fine with this. No, she should have been glad that they were finally back on track. She had been planning to go to Saintsbridge so long ago when the group had first met up with Alfyn, but all of that had changed because of Aelfric pushing her in a different direction. From there, the group was left winding through the rest of the continent wildly, and Ophilia felt as if everything had changed since the days when the group was in Clearbrook. Since then, she had met Therion and H'aanit, watched Primrose destroy the first man of the crow, gotten involved with the theft of the ruby dragonstone, fought against a twisted apothecary with no regard for human life, and seen a man turn to stone under the mysterious power of an unknown beast. So much had happened, and Ophilia didn't think she would ever be able to return to the person she had once been. The Kindling had set her on a new path, and she had no idea what she was supposed to think of it all. 

Back when she was first in Clearbrook, Ophilia had been confident that she would be able to handle whatever Saintsbridge had to throw at her... Though she supposed she should have known better than to let her confidence get the better of her. The last time she had been in the Riverlands before meeting Alfyn, she had still been living in the small village of Creek not far from Saintsbridge. In those days, Saintsbridge was caught up in a conflict with the neighboring Quarrycrest over matters of trade, and it erupted into a war that nearly consumed both cities. In the end, both Saintsbridge and Quarrycrest were able to stand tall after the fact, and while their relationship was not what it once was, they were making progress to return to the way they once had been. 

But Ophilia's home village could never be brought back to the land of the living. It had been a long time since she was last in Creek, but she could still remember the way the town sprawled out across the plains like the back of her hand. She knew the names of all of her neighbors, and each of them had done their part to raise her. Ophilia had loved her parents with all she had, and they had done the same for her. It was a simple life, but it was one that she had come to call her own. 

The battles between Saintsbridge and Quarrycrest took away all of that, and Ophilia didn't know how she was supposed to return to the Riverlands with all of that in mind. It wasn't as if she could necessarily hold much of anything over the heads of the people within Saintsbridge or Quarrycrest; they weren't the ones responsible for the conflict that took away her home and her family, and accusing them of such wouldn't be productive or helpful. Still, it was strange to Ophilia to think that she was going to be returning to the area of her home again after all this time, albeit under completely different circumstances. 

Ophilia did her best to swallow back her nerves as she focused on the path ahead. She couldn't get caught up in her own bittersweet reminiscence forever. There was work to be done, and it all started with the next shrine encounter. After that, she would be able to carry out the first leg of the Kindling and spread the light of the Sacred Flame. It was her duty. Besides, that was what Aelfric would have wanted.

Aelfric was perhaps the greatest issue for Ophilia in the midst of her internal strife. Now that she knew the truth of her history--that Aelfric had always known that she would be the one to take on the Kindling's burden for some reason or another, that Aelfric had saved Ophilia's life from the tides of war that destroyed everyone else she loved--Ophilia still felt as if her world was tilting on its side. She had gotten better at coping with the revelation, yes, but the issue remained prominent as could be in the back of her mind. Since leaving Clearbrook--no, since leaving Flamesgrace--Ophilia had become an entirely different person, and she had no idea what she was meant to think of it all. 

"Look out!"

Ophilia barely recognized what was happening until an arrow soared out of the corner of her eye to hit a nearby frog monster that had jumped out at her. The cleric had been so caught up in her own thoughts that she hadn't even realized. Ophilia's eyes went wide, and she found herself breathing heavily at the sight of the frog pinned down against the ground, an arrow in its throat. H'aanit was the one who had fired the shot, though she was hardly the one who had spoken. 

Alfyn appeared at Ophilia's side a moment later, helping her to her feet. Ophilia hadn't even realized that she had fallen into the grass until she was starting to stand. "Are you okay, Phili?" Alfyn questioned softly. 

Somewhere in the back of her own mind, Ophilia bittersweetly remembered that Lianna had always called her that when they were growing up, and she struggled to not collapse once more under the weight of how much she missed her sister all of a sudden. "Yes," Ophilia finally managed to choke out when words began to cooperate with her once more. It took her an embarrassingly long time to come back to grips with reality, and the only thing that felt real was Alfyn's gentle grip on her upper arm. 

"I'm glad that H'aanit was able to get rid of that monster before it could hit you," Tressa remarked, and Ophilia realized that the merchant had been the one to cry out for her to be careful before. Tressa trotted over to Ophilia before placing her hands on her hips. "I guess you're pretty tired and out of it today, huh? I would have thought that you would have noticed the second a monster like that started to come out of the bushes towards you."

Ophilia processed Tressa's words slowly before nodding. "My apologies... I suppose I got a bit distracted," she murmured, knowing it was an inadequate excuse but unable to force herself to come up with something better. When she looked down at her hands, she realized they were shaking, and she found herself desperate for the group to find the next shrine just so everybody would stop looking at her like that. They could tell that something was wrong, but Ophilia didn't even know where she would begin when it came to articulating everything that had led to her sudden emotional fallout. 

"We should be arriving at the shrine soon," Cyrus announced, recognizing Ophilia's upset much to her relief. "I'm afraid that I can't say if who we will find there, but we should be able to take care of that matter before we settle down in Saintsbridge for the night."

Ophilia nodded at that. She could already tell that she wasn't going to have the chance to go to the church within Saintsbridge to talk with the people there until the following morning. It gave her time to think, and while she was thankful for that, she couldn't help wondering what was going to happen when she was left alone with her thoughts again. She hadn't ever thought that she would get caught up in her musings of the past after so much time had passed, but she practically couldn't bring herself to calm down. Perhaps it was the frog monster that had scared her. Maybe she was concerned about having to think about Creek again. Then there was the possibility that she was still afraid of doing something that could mess with the Kindling's rituals. Ophilia assumed that her current shakiness had to do with all three of them, though she was desperate to make it stop, even if it was just for a few moments. 

Ophilia's mind remained a somewhat hazy spinning cycle as she continued to press on in the direction of the shrine. Cyrus took to the front of the party once again, H'aanit at his side. Ophilia could tell that the others were giving her space because they thought that she needed a bit of time to recuperate after what had happened, and she was grateful for it. She was entirely sure of what she needed in that moment, but she didn't think that having them all ask if she was alright would help her much. If anything, that would likely just make her anxiety worse. 

"Hey, Ophilia. Are you okay?"

Tressa seemed to be all too happy to ignore the buzz of anxiety that came with the rest of the group, and she fell into step alongside Ophilia with an easy smile on her face. Ophilia could tell that Tressa was trying to calm her down, and the cleric couldn't help sighing with relief at the sight. Her mind was still a tempestuous mess, and she had no idea if talking was going to help her or not, but Tressa had always brought so much light to her life that she could hardly bring herself to mind what was happening around her for the time being. 

"Ah, yes, I'm fine," Ophilia assured Tressa, desperate to move on and talk about anything but what had just happened. Ophilia could already tell that the others weren't going to buy the excuse of her just being distracted for too long, and something deep inside of her said that they were barely accepting her excuses to begin with. Still, she was desperate to move on, knowing that voicing her thoughts about Creek and being back in the Riverlands was only going to make everything feel worse. She couldn't falter. Not now. Not when they were so close to getting to Saintsbridge and finally carrying out the first leg of the Kindling. 

Tressa's eyes narrowed in Ophilia's direction, and the cleric did her best to not shy away from Tressa's gaze. That would only prove to the merchant that she was right to be suspicious, and Ophilia really didn't want anybody worrying about her right then. There was too much work to be done. She refused to be the distraction that got the rest of the group off track. 

Tressa's determination was impressive though, and Ophilia could tell that she wasn't going to be escaping this without a fight. The merchant narrowed her eyes in Ophilia's direction before she spoke once again. "It's okay to talk to us, you know," she assured Ophilia. "You don't have to keep everything inside. I promise you that the rest of us can handle it if you need to talk about your feelings for a while. I mean, we're all here to help one another, right? That means that I'm here to listen if you want to let it all out."

Ophilia shook her head. "It's really fine," she insisted. She was more than alright with helping the others through their moments of emotional turmoil, but Ophilia knew that asking them for the same was going to do nothing but embarrass her. If she tried to get their attention, she would go right back to feeling selfish for it all over again. She had felt that way when it came to speaking with Josef and Lianna for years, and it seemed that feeling of knowing that she was just barely out of place had followed her out of Flamesgrace. 

"We've got a bit of time to kill before we get to the shrine," Tressa pointed out. She paused for a moment before smiling up at Ophilia, and the cleric did her best to not wince at the idea of Tressa having a devious plan up her sleeve. "You know, I'm really good at this sort of thing. If you don't want to talk, then I'm not going to push you, but... I want you to be open with yourself. If that means talking to me, then you should do it. I would be more than happy to pester you if I think that would be best for you too."

"Why would that be best for me?" Ophilia questioned, doing her best to keep the fear of Tressa's probing to creep into her voice. She wasn't doing a great job of holding it all back, but she did her best to at least put in the effort. She owed that much to herself. 

"You're the type to keep things bottled up. I can tell," Tressa began to explain. "If you're willing to let me, then I would be more than happy to listen and do what I can to help you with feeling better about all of this. You don't just get distracted like that for no reason, and I think it would be better if you tried to talk about it, even if it was just for a little while. If you really don't want to talk, then all you have to do is say the word, but... I think it would help you a lot more than you realize to just say what's on your mind."

Ophilia thought about it for a long moment. Just what was she so afraid of? She didn't want the others to know that she had dark emotions that were steadily creeping up behind her. She was terrified of the mere concept of those around her knowing how she really felt in case it turned into a burden for them. She had been confident that she would keep everything that held her down bottled up inside to make sure that nobody got hurt along the way, but at the same time... The gleam in Tressa's eyes--a glitter of something so overwhelmingly loving that it almost stung to see--was so genuine that it struck Ophilia still for a moment. 

Tressa cared about her. They all cared about her. 

Ophilia found herself replying before she could even come close to stopping her words where they rested on the tip of her tongue. "It's been a long time since I was last in the area near Saintsbridge," she admitted softly. "It's been more than fifteen years now, as a matter of fact."

Tressa quirked up an eyebrow in confusion. "I was under the impression that you had never left Flamesgrace," she admitted. "I mean, you said that you've lived with the church for a long time and haven't ever mentioned leaving, so..."

"I haven't left Flamesgrace since I came to live there," Ophilia corrected her. "I was actually born in the Riverlands... In a small village not far from Saintsbridge. But... The village of Creek no longer stands. It was destroyed in the midst of a conflict about trade between Saintsbridge and Quarrycrest, though I'm afraid I don't know the details. It was always too upsetting for me to think about any longer than I had to."

Tressa stared up at Ophilia in shock, her eyes wide as could be. "I... I remember you telling us about this after you went to speak with Aelfric while we were in Stillsnow..." she murmured. 

"In the heat of war, soldiers from Quarrycrest razed it to the ground. It was a consequence of the fighting, and... All of the people within the village were killed before anyone had the chance to register what was happening... All except for me," Ophilia muttered. She shook her head before her hand drifted to the Ember where it rested at her hip. "I didn't know it at the time, but... Aelfric saved my life back then. She knew that I was going to be the one to undergo the Kindling, and she decided that it would be for the best if I survived. She used her power to ensure that I survived the battle that day, and now... Here I stand."

"I remember you mentioned all of this before, but... I'm still so sorry about what happened to your home," Tressa murmured. She fell silent for a moment before glancing up to the cleric once more. "But... Have you ever wondered about what really happened all those years ago? I mean, you said it was because of some conflict about trade, but... Coming from a merchant, it takes more than just a trading conflict to cause a war like that. People don't just start fighting each other because of disputes with wares and money."

Ophilia hesitated at that, biting down on her lip along the way. She honestly had no idea how to respond to that. She had been so eager to put the thought of Creek's destruction out of her mind years ago that she was never able to ask any questions about what had truly happened. Tressa was right about one thing though; there must have been some deeper cause that ended in an explosion of war like that, and Ophilia would have been lying if she said that she had never wanted to ask questions. She had feared her answers, but part of her remained curious whether she wanted to admit it or not. 

But was she truly ready to hear about what may have happened? As far as Ophilia could tell, it was simply going to be some faraway political talk that she had no real way of comprehending for herself, but perhaps it would offer her a bit of closure. Well, it would either resolve the screaming of her mind, or it would give her even more to think about in a time when she was busy enough as it was. The Kindling took up much of her time and attention these days, and Ophilia had no idea if she would be able to spare her energy to think about a past that she had thought was staying where it was for so long. 

Everything Aelfric had told her in the shrine had changed her thoughts on the matter. Just like that, Ophilia's world was flipped around at the revelation that she had survived because of a goddess looking after her, not simply because she had gotten lucky. Aelfric hadn't been able to save all of Creek, but she had rescued Ophilia, and now... Ophilia had no idea what she was supposed to do about it. 

"I don't know," Ophilia admitted softly. She realized that her hands were shaking, so she took to clutching tightly at her bag to try and stop the motion of the trembling. "I've wondered about it for a long time, but... I don't know if it's a good idea to try and dredge up information from the past like this. The Kindling has to have my full attention, and I can't get distracted now."

"In the nicest way possible, Ophilia, you've been happy to 'get distracted' when it comes to the other members of this group," Tressa countered. "If you really wanted to focus on the Kindling above all else, then you wouldn't have helped Primrose to overthrow the ring in Stillsnow. If all you wanted to do was think about the Kindling, then you wouldn't have done so much to help Therion and Alfyn. If the pilgrimage was all that mattered to you, then you wouldn't still be traveling with us to try and solve all of our problems. You're okay with putting yourself last, but the rest of us want to do what we can to help you. We're all friends and equals around here, and that means supporting you through tough times."

Ophilia opened her mouth to protest, but she forced herself to fall silent a moment later. She wasn't going to be able to object to Tressa's words and she knew it; the merchant had a point. Ophilia had always been content with setting her own desires aside in the name of others. Back in Flamesgrace, she had thought that perpetual selflessness was her price to pay for the kindness of others. Josef had taken her in, and Lianna had decided to be her friend. That meant that she had to do everything she could to help them, and if she tore herself apart under the weight of her desire to assist others, then so be it. That was simply how she functioned. 

But she didn't have to be that way, not anymore. As easy as it was to let her bad habits get the better of her, Ophilia was allowing herself to take up space with the other travelers... At least to a degree. She still had struggles with self-acceptance and self-esteem, but it was a step in the right direction. Maybe it would be alright if she decided to ask questions of this nature... The others had done nothing but support her thus far, so if she said that she wanted to learn more, then they would do everything in their power to help her. 

Ophilia nodded to Tressa, and the action even caught her by surprise. "I... I think I want answers," she murmured. "You're right about me putting everybody before myself, and... This is going to be my best chance to find out what really happened all that time ago. When we get to Saintsbridge... I'm going to ask the others if they would be willing to help me find the truth from fifteen years ago."

"Then we'll do what we can to figure out what really happened back then," Tressa smiled with a firm nod. "I was still just a little kid back then, but I bet that at least somebody else in the group is going to be able to tell us something about what happened between Saintsbrdige and Quarrycrest to cause so many problems... Maybe Cyrus would know. I mean, he's the scholar here, so if anybody is going to have ideas about what went down back then, it would probably be him."

Ophilia nodded before shifting her attention up to where Cyrus was walking at the front of the group. Tressa was right in saying that Cyrus would be the one with the answers she sought; he had managed to narrow down the shrine locations without even batting an eye, and even with Barham's map, that was an impressive feat. His smarts were beyond impressive, and given how much he enjoyed learning about history, he likely knew at least something when it came to the conflict that swallowed Creek fifteen years ago. Ophilia took in a careful breath before she started to plan out what exactly she was going to say to him. She would be much less nervous if she had a script to go off instead of just trying to fly through this on her own. 

However, she was never given the chance to come up with a deeper idea than that. The Ember began to glow a bit brighter at her side, and at the front of the group, Cyrus stopped walking. "It seems we have arrived," he announced, and Ophilia nodded. Judging by how the Ember was responding, they had found the next shrine, and that meant it was time for them to prepare for yet another battle against the gods. 

Ophilia did her best to shove her thoughts of Creek as far from her mind as possible, though that was much easier said than done, as much as she hated to admit it. She took in a careful breath before taking a step towards the grassy hill that appeared to mask the entrance to the shrine. It was certainly far from the beaten path, and Ophilia was almost glad for the privacy. After all, she needed the moment to breathe away from the eyes of the rest of the world given her circumstances and everything rushing through her head. 

The door to the shrine responded immediately and easily, and Ophilia peered inside carefully. Sure enough, the inside of the shrine looked the same as Ophilia would have expected. The stone ground was the same deep gray color as it always had been, and there were torches with green dancing flames lining the walls. Ophilia had no idea what element that was going to indicate, but she couldn't help wondering if perhaps this would be a new type of magic from what she was used to. 

That was another matter that Ophilia had been thinking about ever since Brand's shrine was uncovered. There were five other elements that had not yet been utilized by mortals, and the travelers knew next to nothing about them. Cyrus' hypothesis about the magic outside of mortal capabilities hadn't been confirmed or researched before he was forced to leave Atlasdam, forcing the travelers to go in without any expectations of what they might find next. On one hand, it was thrilling, but on another, Ophilia found herself quietly desperate for any answers or information that might make this easier for her to figure out. 

Ophilia took in a careful breath before walking into the shrine in full, allowing herself to push away as many thoughts as she possibly could when it came to her parents. Even if she was curious about the truth behind Creek's fall, she had to focus on fighting against this god. She could tell that it wasn't going to be an easy battle since none of the fights ever were. Even as the travelers grew stronger, their foes grew more difficult to win against as well. The gods were holding back to ensure they didn't completely destroy their successors, but the stronger the travelers got, the less the gods needed to seal away their strength. In other words, battling against this next god was going to be just as difficult as it had been to fight against Aelfric, and Ophilia could only hope that they were ready for it. 

The doors to the shrine slid shut soon after Therion--who had taken to the back of the group--passed over the threshold to the inner workings of the hill. The green flames seemed to flicker even stronger now, gesturing for the travelers to draw nearer to the end of the shrine. Ophilia stared down the long pathway, finding a carving at the altar at the center of the shrine with her eyes. 

The stone had come together to form what appeared to be a bottle of some kind. Upon closer examination, Ophilia realized that it was a phial like what Alfyn used when he was trying to cure the ailments of others. He smiled at the sight before starting to approach the carving. "Shucks. This must be fate," he murmured. The rest of the group was quick to follow after him, and Ophilia sighed before doing the same. 

The group gathered around the carving as soon as they had arrived at the other edge of the shrine, and Ophilia continued to look down at the stone in curiosity. She took in a careful breath to ground herself, more focused on trying to keep her raging emotions under control than trying to figure out who it was that they would be fighting against next. There were only seven gods left, and that meant that Ophilia probably would have been able to figure out who their target was with a bit of deductive work. However, that involved much more effort than she was willing to put in at the moment. She would know the truth soon enough either way. 

Alfyn glanced around at the other members of the group with a small smile on his face. Ophilia couldn't tell for sure if it was genuine or not, but she chose to not question it as long as they rested on the precipice of such an important moment. "Ready?" Alfyn asked, a grin continuing to spread across his features. The travelers nodded their confirmation, and with that, Alfyn reached out for the carving. 

As expected, light spread outwards rapidly from there, and Ophilia allowed her eyes to fall shut. When she next opened them to look at the world around her, it would be time for the next fight against the gods. She could think about her plans in Saintsbridge after all the upcoming battle had been resolved and left in the past; for the time being, there was too much else that required her attention. 

But she would have her answers soon enough. After years of wondering, she was finally going to hear the truth. She was sure of it. 

Chapter Text

Alfyn shifted his attention throughout the shrine as soon as the shift had taken place, and he blinked slowly but surely to refocus his eyes. He didn't think he would ever truly be able to get used to the transition between the regular plane and the realm of the gods found within the shrines. His vision was still exploding with stars at the corners, and he reached up with one hand to try and banish the phantoms dancing around behind his eyelids. 

Soon enough, he was able to catch a glimpse of the one he was searching for though, and Alfyn immediately found himself hesitating at the sight. He had noticed previously that the gods tended to bear a striking amount of resemblance to members of the group, though he hadn't known for sure quite why that was. Aelfric and Ophilia had worn the same regal grace while Primrose and Sealticge looked so similar that they might as well have been twins. It was something Alfyn had passively noticed, but he had never been given the chance to figure out how he thought about it... 

That was, at least, until this god looked almost exactly like him. 

The man was on the taller side, and his shoulders were broad in a way that seemed comforting and familiar, like his very body was a home that he was preparing to offer up to anyone who was willing to accept it. He wore a green jacket that had been loved to death even though he was a god with more than enough power to clean up the faded colors. His shirt beneath it was a pristine white color, and both obscured his muscles from view. That was the next thing Alfyn noticed: the god was more than prepared for a fight in terms of physicality, and despite his comforting appearance, he had no doubt enough power to push back against all the travelers without breaking a sweat. In other words, this fight was going to be just as difficult as all of the encounters that had come before. 

The god's trousers were a pale blue color, though his belt was where most of the intrigue came from where the lower half of his body was concerned. There were countless small bottles shoved into pockets attached to his belt, and Alfyn found himself passively reminded of the supplies that he used when it came to concoct treatments and elemental attacks. Granted, the god was much more organized about it than Alfyn was, but as long as he was able to get the job done, the apothecary could hardly bring himself to mind. 

The god finished off his look with black gloves that hid his hands from view entirely to match the lace-up boots on his lower legs. The mask that wrapped around his upper face looked a lot like bandages, and Alfyn could only assume that his foe this time around was some kind of healer. The god's hair was a gentle light brown color and tied into a ponytail at the base of his neck, though it was long enough to reach the middle of his back effortlessly. Despite his demeanor looking much more casual than the previous gods had, he still held an aura that showed he more than had everything under control, and Alfyn was confident that this battle would be just as difficult as the previous encounters, if not more so. 

"Hail, travelers..." came the voice of the god as he took a small step forward. His smile was inviting and warm, and Alfyn could feel the aura of honesty and care even if the man's eyes were hidden from view. "Thou hast come a long way to reachen my shrine."

"Who might you be?" Ophilia questioned. She still had one hand resting against the top of the lanthorn, something that had come to be a comforting gesture for her throughout the course of the journey. Given that the group was closer to Saintsbridge than ever before, it made sense that her anxiety would start to mount, though Alfyn wished he was able to do something more to help her. 

For the time being though, the god simply smiled a little bit wider, and that took all of Alfyn's attention away from the world around him. "Dohter, the healer among the gods," he said simply. "Thou art here for the strength I can provide to thee... I hath no doubt that thou understandeth what must come next of our encounter."

Alfyn nodded. He did his best to shake away how Dohter looked like a strange variation of his own reflection, instead concentrating on pulling his axe out and priming it for the battle at hand. The other travelers were quick to follow his example nearby. Dohter's friendly and open nature made Alfyn sure that they would be able to talk more about their fates after the battle was over, but for the time being, they had to prove themselves so that they could earn his favor. Alfyn had no intentions of letting anything stop him from showing that they were more than worthy of the power Dohter could provide, and even if a tough battle awaited them... So be it. That was simply the price he had agreed to when he set out on this journey to begin with. 

"Allow us to begin at once," Dohter announced. He bowed his head for a moment, giving the travelers a beat of respect in preparation for the battle at hand. He reached one hand out to the side, and green magic began to condense in the air to create a single axe. Alfyn stared at it for a long moment, his eyes squinting as he tried to get a better glimpse of it despite the distance. The hilt looked as if it was made of deep green vines wrapping together before splitting off into a pair of deep gray blades. The weapon was hefty and certainly difficult for most people to wield, but Alfyn couldn't help thinking that he wanted to give it a try for himself. 

Hopefully, if the group won the battle, he would be able to. 

Of course, before that, they had to actually succeed in their fight against Dohter. Alfyn looked to the rest of the travelers, double checking that they were all just as ready as he was, and he found his attention drifting to Cyrus. The scholar's eyes were wide as could be as he stared at the axe. "That pattern... I don't believe it matches any of the known elements of this world," he murmured. "The only known elements that we haven't yet encountered are fire and thunder, and this... This matches neither one of those."

"I see thou knoweth quite a bit about the arcane powers of this world," Dohter remarked as he pulled his axe back into a combat stance. "I will sharen with thee all that I know... As soon as thou hath won this battle."

With that, Dohter raised the legendary axe before slamming it into the ground. The floor of the battlefield seemed to tremble immediately, but it wasn't with the familiar shake of earth that had come with the battle against Brand. Instead, plants began to freely sprout from the floor below, creating a firm rift between the travelers. The vines forced them apart into three groups. Alfyn was with Primrose and Olberic while H'aanit, Tressa, and Cyrus were bunched together. Last but not least, Ophilia and Therion were left standing together, struggling to see around the vines to catch a glimpse of their companions. The vines were more than tall enough to ensure that the travelers couldn't easily find one another, and since Ophilia and Therion were short enough as it was, that only left them at an even greater disadvantage. 

"This magic..." Alfyn heard Cyrus whisper from elsewhere within the shrine. "This is precisely the power we saw from the Lord of the Forest when we were in Stonegard!" 

"In other words, I'm willing to bet that the Lord of the Forest figured out how to use an element that humans lost contact with," Tressa concluded as she glanced over in Dohter's direction. "And that just so happens to be the power that Dohter possesses now."

Dohter didn't say a word about it, but judging by the way the god's lips quirked up at the corners, Alfyn could tell that this assumption was correct. The apothecary tightened his grip on his axe before swinging the weapon in a grand arc to try and cut down some of the vines that had grown between the different members of the party. He wasn't able to get far though, and he realized with a wince that the plants were much stronger than he would have expected. In other words, Dohter's summoning abilities far exceeded those which the Lord of the Forest had displayed and he was making sure the travelers knew it and then some. 

Before Alfyn could fully find the energy to find another way around the vines spread throughout the arena, he heard somebody streaking towards him. He looked up to see that Dohter was rushing in his direction. Alfyn let out a yelp of shock before he attempted to duck out of the way just before the god made impact. He was only barely able to escape Dohter's grip, but he couldn't keep himself out of the line of fire for long. Plants started to wrap around his arm, and Alfyn found his axe wrestled from his grip before it was sent flying across the ground. 

Primrose picked up the weapon before tossing it to Olberic, who caught it effortlessly. The warrior raised the blade above his head before slashing down at Dohter. The god suffered a strike on the arm, and he winced before forcing himself into a quick retreat. As soon as Alfyn was free of Dohter's gaze, Olberic turned the axe in his direction, pulling the plants on Alfyn's arm apart with the blade of the axe. Alfyn was shocked at the ease with which the vines began to crumble given how strong the other set had been. It seemed that the larger the plants were, the harder they were to destroy, not that this was particularly surprising. 

Alfyn reclaimed his axe soon afterwards, and he glanced up to see that Dohter was standing beside some of the plants that had sprouted from the ground. Something that looked a lot like sap was leaking from one of the vines and into a small phial that Dohter had retrieved from his belt. Alfyn recognized the liquid as an ingredient for a concoction of some sort, and just as he expected, Dohter used it to create a new blend a moment later. With a flash of materials so fast that Alfyn could barely register what was happening, Dohter finished his potion, and he downed it soon afterwards. As soon as the medication was in his system, the cut on his arm began to vanish, and not even a scar was left behind in its wake.

"If we're going to make any progress against him, it'll have to be by getting those ingredients away from him," Primrose murmured from her place at Alfyn's side. "As long as he has those on his side, he's going to be able to heal from any injuries that he suffers. From there, it should be easy enough to get rid of his weapon."

"That's bound to be much easier said than done as long as we're separated like this," Alfyn pointed out, not that he was planning on letting it stop him. Hell, if anything, that just made him more determined to fight back. He could barely see the other members of the group around the plants that were dividing the arena so firmly, and he prayed that they knew what they were doing when it came to pushing back against him. 

A flash of electricity dove down from the ceiling, and Alfyn recognized it as a strike from H'aanit. The thunder shot itself towards Dohter with immense force, though he was able to shrug it off for the most part. Soon afterwards, he turned in the direction of the huntress, no doubt planning on getting her out of the way after her previous strike. He began to run towards Cyrus, Tressa, and H'aanit, and the plant barriers briefly parted for him to pass through before settling down once more as soon as he had slipped between the vines. In other words, he wasn't taking any chances on letting the other travelers pursue him. 

Cyrus dove out of the way alongside Tressa as Dohter raised his axe in H'aanit's direction. She was quick to block the attack with her own weapon, and Linde curled around behind Dohter with her fangs bared. She lunged at the god, and as soon as she was within range, she targeted his belt. She gnawed away at the leather, desperate to pull it away from him. It seemed as if she understood where Dohter's strengths rested as well, and this was the best way she could remove that advantage from his side of the battle. 

Unfortunately for her, Dohter refused to allow himself to be pinned between H'aanit and Linde. He created a barricade of plants between himself and the huntress, and that gave him the time he needed to concentrate on getting Linde away from him. He pushed the snow leopard away after strapping his axe to his back with a thin string of vines, putting his immense muscles to good use, though it still wasn't enough to do significant damage to the large cat. Linde landed in a crouch before preparing to strike once more, this time hitting Dohter in the legs with her tail. 

The god nearly doubled over from the sudden strike, but he was able to keep his balance by throwing one hand backwards to the plant barricade he had made to get H'aanit off his back. However, that proved itself to be a much less reliable source of security than he would have expected, as Cyrus sent out a fireball that immediately began to consume the plants. The flames were quick to burn away the barrier, and Dohter was left with no choice but to pull away with burns marking his hand. He hissed as he looked down at his palm, fingers drifting to his belt to find the ingredients he was searching for. 

Tressa pointed the Tempest Spear in Dohter's direction a moment later, immediately extinguishing the fire and sending the god sliding backwards. Because of his impressive frame, he was able to maintain most of his balance, though he did eventually collide with the plants. Tressa nocked an arrow on her bow with surprising speed before preparing to fire. Behind his mask, Dohter's eyes went wide, and everyone could see it on the rest of his feet. He appeared to be cornered, and he knew it. 

However, Dohter refused to let this be the end of the battle. He allowed the plants behind him to shift, and he fell between the curtain of vines before rolling backwards and coming up in a crouch. He kept all weight off his wounded hand though, rising to his feet carefully as Ophilia and Therion prepared to lash out at him. He was in their segment of the battlefield now, and the cleric and thief refused to allow him to slip away without suffering at least a bit of damage. 

Dohter focused most of his attention on concocting a remedy for his injury, using a small amount of sap from the nearby plant to finish off the medicine. He poured the liquid across his skin as soon as it was completed, and he rubbed it in with his other hand after tucking the phial away. A matter of seconds later, the injury was completely gone, and Dohter's hand was back to normal. He reached for his axe once again, bracing it perfectly between his fingers. 

Ophilia concentrated her energy on a blast of light magic, though it wasn't enough to rattle the god. Instead, he simply stepped to the side to keep from being hit, though Ophilia refused to stop there. She pointed her staff forward, and a column of ice shot up in the place where Dohter was slated to land next. He was thrown off balance immediately, and Ophilia's eyes narrowed as the column began to splinter outwards, creating an explosion of frozen shards. 

The ice mercilessly tore into the vines spread throughout the area, and while it wasn't enough to completely destroy them, the damage was still significant. Luckily, that was just the boost Therion needed to charge his hand up with fiery magic before slamming it into the vines. The flames spread outwards from there, burning through the plants with a controlled fury before sparking away into nothingness when they had done their job. The flames accomplished quite a bit in terms of destroying the plants, though there was still quite a bit left behind after the fact. 

Dohter hissed at the sight of the barricades starting to fall apart, but he didn't let it get to him. Instead, he braced his axe for an attack before lashing out at Therion with everything he had. The thief ducked below the first strike before he was hit by the follow-up, and Therion let out a small grunt as he was forced backwards. He realized a moment later that he wasn't going to be able to get away from this fight without using a weapon, so he reached for his dagger before twisting it over between his fingers. 

Dohter sent another quick strike of vines in Therion's direction, but the thief was easily able to maneuver his dagger in a way that cut himself free before he could even be trapped. Therion braced his knife carefully when Dohter charged towards him next, though it took every ounce of his strength to keep from being fully struck. Ophilia summoned yet another blast of magic before sending ice spiraling towards Dohter, forcing him to stumble away from Therion with a frown heavy on his face. 

Elsewhere in the shrine, Cyrus snapped his fingers to summon the power of fire once again, doing what he could to burn away at the rest of the vines left behind. H'aanit was quick to follow suit, though her flames were far less prominent by comparison. As soon as a free spot had been created through the vines though, both Tressa and H'aanit reached for their bows before letting arrows fly free in Dohter's direction. 

The arrows pierced Dohter's shirt near his neck, though he barely managed to avoid from being hit himself. There were a few traces of the vines left behind him, and the arrows pinned his shirt to the greenery that had managed to survive Therion, Cyrus, and H'aanit's previous wrath. Dohter immediately took to struggling against the vines, but he couldn't seem to pull himself away because of the awkward angle at which he was pinned down. 

Cyrus shifted his attention next to the vines that had pinned Alfyn, Primrose, and Olberic away from the rest of the group, and he sent out a quick fireball to burn away at the greenery. Primrose pulled backwards to keep from being burned by the lick of the flames, and she briefly twirled on the spot. Alfyn immediately felt strength surge through his body, and he could tell that Primrose had given him a boost of energy necessary to make more progress against Dohter.

As soon as most of the vines had been burnt away, the apothecary dashed towards the god. Alfyn let one hand fall onto the wall of vines Dohter was still pinned to, and icy magic began to mount across the surface of the plants. As soon as the ice had completely consumed the vines, Alfyn allowed the fragments to explode outwards, destroying the remnants of the plants and forcing Dohter forwards. The arrows that had him trapped were shredded in the process, left discarded in pieces across the ground below. 

Dohter looked up carefully when he realized that he was surrounded, and Alfyn lunged in his direction with his axe primed above his head. The apothecary went to slash downwards, but Dohter rolled out of the way and returned to his feet with surprising swiftness. This left Alfyn's axe to embed itself in the floor of the shrine, and Alfyn struggled to pull the head of his weapon free with a frown on his face. He couldn't afford to linger for too long though; Dohter was going to take advantage of this moment of weakness as soon as he recognized it, and Alfyn could already tell that he was in trouble. 

Sure enough, the god made to kick at Alfyn, but all that did was give the apothecary the extra bit of force he needed to pull his axe free. He rolled to his feet, ignoring the throbbing pain that had appeared in his side from the contact with Dohter. He prepared to charge once again, axe at the ready, but he never got the chance to do so, instead distracted when another rush of energy flooded his body. 

Alfyn glanced off to the side and realized that Tressa had briefly offered a bit of power based on what she had learned from Sealticge. She had given him a bit more speed, and if all went well, that would be all that he needed to get the upper hand against Dohter. Alfyn offered her a grateful nod before rushing in the direction of his foe. 

Dohter knew that Alfyn was coming this time, and he dodged the strike before the apothecary could get close to him. Unfortunately for him, Alfyn knew what he was doing this time, and he allowed his free hand to drift to his satchel where he found a familiar ingredient known for its magical properties. Alfyn threw the small white and red crystals on the ground, creating a quick plume of explosions that alternated between fire and ice. 

Dohter was forced to throw his arms up over his head to block the strike, but that wasn't enough to fully defend him from the onslaught. The crystals didn't have much power, yes, but they were still more than a potent distraction, something that kept Dohter from being able to see what was happening until it was much too late for him to avoid the next attack. Alfyn took advantage of the speed and strength he had been granted by Tressa and Primrose respectively, and he rushed behind the god as he raised his axe, determination written clear as could be across his features. Out of the corner of his eye, Alfyn saw the other travelers preparing themselves for the final strike. 

Alfyn slammed down onto Dohter's back with the side of his axe, and the god was sent flying forward because of the sudden spike to the apothecary's strength. As soon as Dohter hit the ground on all fours, the earth created a few spires of rock to keep him chained in place. Olberic and Therion had both concentrated the energy they received from Brand to lock Dohter down, and even though the god struggled for a moment, he was unable to pull himself away from his confines, eventually falling still when he realized escape was a futile effort. 

"Impressive," Dohter said simply. He waited until after Therion and Olberic had released the rock on his arms and legs before pushing himself back to his full height, a smile on his face. "I had heard that thou were incredible fighters, and I see now that my fellow gods weren telling the truth."

"You've heard from them?" Tressa questioned as she tucked away the Tempest Staff. "I suppose that makes sense... As the highest powers in Orsterra, I guess that you would have a way to talk to each other even if you were spread out in your shrines."

"The gods do not stay in the shrines we visit," Cyrus pointed out. "Their home has been in the sky above for many generations now, and they simply project themselves into the shrines when we arrive here so that we can speak with them."

Dohter nodded his confirmation. "Thou art well read... Though I shouldn't have expected anything else from a scholar such as thou." He reached for his axe a moment later, a small smile on his face again. "I grante thee with my blessing now. Use this blade wisely to bring peace and prosperity to all of Orsterra."

Alfyn wound up being on the receiving end of the weapon, and he accepted it carefully after tucking his own blade away. "Thanks," he said softly, immediately hit by the rush of power that flooded his veins at the contact with the hilt. He could certainly understand why the others were so infatuated with the weapons the gods had given them previously; he didn't think he had ever felt stronger. 

"It goes by the name of the Rose Axe. With this blade, thou will possess the powere of nature itself in all of its glory," Dohter explained. "My element is that of wood and plants. The gift was losten many years ago as nature grewen out of humanity's control, but with this gift, thou shalt be able to influence the plants once more."

"This is the power that the Lord of Forest possessed then," Primrose concluded with a small nod. "It makes sense. Even if humans lost the ability to influence these elements, the traces of them would linger in the world around us decades after the fact."

Dohter nodded. "Thou will need all the strength thou can acquire if humanity is to standen a chance against its foes," he declared. "Be careful and remain on guard always... The world is full of unexpected changes."

Alfyn nodded his understanding at that, and he let out a careful breath before glancing up to meet Dohter's gaze. "What's your specific gift?" he asked before he could hold himself back. "Aelfric has the power of the second chance, Alephan talked about unparalleled focus, Brand had..."

"Strength unrivaled," Dohter finished for him. "My gift is that of generosity... The strength to granten others a love and care that rivals the greatest evils of this world. As the future saviors of Orsterra... I hath no doubt that thou will find a way to use it well."

"Thank you for all of this," Ophilia smiled, bowing her head kindly in Dohter's direction. "We'll do everything we can to keep fighting." She was clearly left holding back a comment about how none of them truly understood what they were fighting for, but Alfyn could tell that she was still uncertain as could be about their duties. They would be able to figure out the truth soon enough; it would take time, but they would find the answers they were seeking. 

Dohter nodded once again, his expression firmly set in a smile. "Travel on with pride," he said simply, and with that, light flooded the shrine and spread outwards until everyone's vision was consumed with a void of endless whiteness. Alfyn pressed his eyes shut as per usual, a smile on his face as he tested the weight of the Rose Axe between his fingers. 

When Alfyn opened his eyes once again, he was back in the shrine, and the Rose Axe was still perched in the same place as ever. He smiled before reaching for his old axe, his gaze shifting into something bittersweet. "I suppose I'm not going to need this as much anymore, huh?" he murmured. 

"We can always use the extra equipment. I'll take care of it," Tressa told him, accepting the blade easily before tucking it away with the rest of their supplies. Alfyn gave her a grateful grin, and she nodded before turning her attention back to the rest of the group. "I guess we should get ready to head out to Saintsbridge, huh? It's getting late."

Alfyn winced at that, realizing that she was right. Their battle against Sealticge had also been that day, and that morning, they had been in Stonegard. They had traveled quite the impressive distance that day, and they were going to have to get going if they wanted to find a room in the inn. Saintsbridge was an impressive city, and Alfyn had no doubt that it saw its fair share of tourists. In other words, they all needed to sleep, and if they wanted to have any sense of personal space or privacy that night, they had to leave for Saintsbridge immediately. 

"Let's get to it then," Therion said simply. He started walking towards the entrance of the shrine, expecting the others to all follow him. They did so effortlessly, and Alfyn took up the rear after tucking the Rose Axe away where it belonged. 

Alfyn couldn't believe all that they had been able to accomplish that day. They were going to have made it from Stonegard to Saintsbridge by the time the sun vanished over the horizon, and along the way, they were able to get two shrines under their belt. That didn't even factor in that they had made it to Wellspring to activate the Warp Staff for their future travels there. This had been perhaps the most productive day they had seen in ages, and Alfyn loved it. 

He was glad that the group had been able to get back on the road again. He needed to keep looking forward, as even if he was getting better at grappling with the encounter with Vanessa, it still seemed to creep into his thoughts when he wasn't paying attention. The more he moved forward, the more distance he would put between himself and the past that he had found in Goldshore. Saintsbridge would offer new opportunities, and he could only hope that this would help him out more. 

Heaven only knew that he could use all the help he could get at this point. 

Chapter Text

The sun had almost completely disappeared on the horizon by the time that the group left behind Dohter's shrine. Ophilia did her best to resist cringing at the sight, knowing that the group had to get going as soon as possible if they didn't want to be caught up in the rush of nocturnal monsters waking up for their midnight hunts. Everyone else understood her desire to hurry and then some, and they were more than happy to trail after the light of the Ember coming from the lanthorn as Ophilia started to jog towards Saintsbridge. 

Luckily for the cleric and the rest of the group though, Saintsbridge wasn't far from the shrine, and they were able to settle down within the city soon afterwards. Ophilia sighed with relief as soon as the town's entrance lights came into view, and she allowed herself to tuck the lanthorn away at her hip. People were bustling around in the evening rush, no doubt off to get food for the night, and Ophilia couldn't help but smile at the sight. It was nice to be back in a town that reminded her so much of home. Flamesgrace got the same way when night drew near, and Ophilia rather enjoyed staying in a place like this. She needed the extra reminders of everything she loved when the Kindling was so close on the horizon. 

In more ways than one, it was strange to Ophilia that she was finally there. She had taken much longer than she would have liked to travel to Saintsbridge because everything related to the Kindling had been put on hold for a while to help the rest of her companions. However, all of that was in the past now, and Ophilia was close to carrying out the first step of the pilgrimage. She hadn't ever imagined that she would be making this journey to begin with, and yet, there she was, ready to take the next steps in order to change everything about her life for the better. 

Then there was the matter of the war that had swallowed Creek ages ago. Tressa had made it clear that she was going to try and help Ophilia to uncover the truth in any way she could, though the cleric still had no idea how they were going to go about finding out something like that. Ophilia had distanced herself from the subject for years because, in all honesty, she feared what she might find. Would anybody even remember the conflict from fifteen years ago that had taken so much from her? Saintsbridge was a busy town, and for all she knew, the people had moved on ages ago. She doubted Quarrycrest would be much better. The mere thought made Ophilia want to shove all of her previous thoughts of pursuing the truth back where they had come from, never to be touched again. 

But she doubted Tressa would let her get away with that. Tressa could tell what she wanted, and the merchant refused to let it all go quite so soon. There had to be somebody that knew the truth behind what happened for Creek to fall, and Tressa was going to find a way to track them down regardless of how much time or energy it took. Tressa's loyalty was certainly appreciated; Ophilia could tell that she was going to need it as she moved towards the truth of her past. 

"We should try and settle down at the inn for now," Alfyn announced. "I bet I'll be able to figure out how to get us a discount. There's always somebody who knows something important when it comes to stuff like that, you know?"

"We can eat at the tavern after we're finished putting our things down then," Primrose suggested with a nod. She started to walk towards the entrance of the inn, and the others followed her, though Alfyn trailed away from the main bulk of the party, no doubt off to make casual conversation and hope that it led him somewhere. Much to Ophilia's surprise, even Therion stuck with the others in the party; it seemed as if he wasn't in the mood to steal anything for the time being, so he decided to linger with his allies for a while longer. 

As a matter of fact, Tressa was the other person who drifted away as the group continued to navigate through Saintsbridge. Ophilia paused when she realized that the merchant had stopped, and she approached the other girl carefully. "Is something wrong?" Ophilia asked, though she immediately realized that wasn't the case when she saw that Tressa was staring into the window of a store. 

"This place has some really good equipment," Tressa remarked. "Though I guess we're probably not going to have enough gold to get all that much here right now. I mean, we've got to conserve our money while we're in the bigger cities. After this, we'll be going to Quarrycrest and Victors Hollow, and inn rooms can be pretty expensive there as far as I can tell."

Ophilia nodded her understanding. "Luckily for us, we'll be able to return here and buy more supplies any time we want thanks to the Warp Staff," she pointed out. "We should be able to get at least a few of these weapons later on when we have the money for them."

"Exactly," Tressa grinned, snapping her fingers together with a wink. "But until then... I think I want to deal in the currency of information rather than leaves. After all, that's the best shot we're going to have when it comes to figuring out what's going on with Saintsbridge and Quarrycrest's history. There has to be somebody who knows about it around here. I'm sure of it."

"I hope so," Ophilia murmured. She glanced up in the direction of the rest of the group, figuring that Cyrus would be able to answer her questions better than anyone. When she looked up though, Ophilia realized that the rest of them had moved on towards the inn without her and Tressa, and she let out a gasp before gently taking the merchant's wrist between her fingers and dashing after them. Tressa let out a small yelp of shock before she regained her footing and continued to dash after her companion, quickly shoving her awe at Saintsbridge's weapons aside for later. 

Alfyn was talking with a pair of people not far from the entrance to the inn, and judging by the way he was smiling and the corresponding gleam in his eyes, Ophilia could assume easily enough that he had struck gold in terms of information. Sure enough, the apothecary waved farewell to the other townsfolk a moment later before strutting over to the rest of his traveling companions. "I've got it," he told them before moving towards the door. He opened it before gesturing that everyone go inside before him. Ophilia gave him a quick word of thanks, and Alfyn simply smiled in return, his grin beaming brighter than the sun. He was starting to bounce back in full even after everything that had happened with Vanessa, and Ophilia couldn't have possibly been happier. Alfyn deserved that much at the very least. 

The apothecary wound up moving towards the front of the party to speak with the innkeeper, and Primrose trailed after him while the others all stood nearby. Ophilia glanced over to Cyrus, who was rolling up the map he had used to track the shrine locations. He tucked the page out of view, and Ophilia pushed herself to walk up to him and ask if he knew anything. Cyrus knew just about everything there was to know when it came to Orsterra's history; he had to at least be vaguely aware of the conflict that had marked her past so prominently, right?

Before Ophilia had the chance to approach the scholar and ask though, she was cut off by the sound of Alfyn's voice. He let out a small exhale before reaching for the bag he had set on the ground while speaking with the innkeeper. "Let's head on back to our rooms, everyone," he announced. Primrose trailed after him, and the other members of the group followed suit. Ophilia had no choice but to go along with it as well, and she resisted the urge to sigh at her shattered plan as she shuffled in the footsteps of the other travelers. 

The process of settling down for the night went by much faster than Ophilia would have expected, and she practically threw everything into its regular position because of her nerves. Ophilia liked to believe that she was able to think rationally under the influence of anxiety most of the time, but it seemed that she had judged herself prematurely. Then again, she understood exactly why she was so worked up; Ophilia had never allowed herself to be so curious about her past before, and even though she was set on learning the truth, part of her still feared losing her nerve at the last minute and backing down. She had to do this before she lost her resolve, and that meant getting the question out into the air as soon as she could possibly manage it. 

"Are you okay?" Tressa questioned as she set down the last of her supplies on the table at the center of the inn room. "I don't think I've ever seen you looking this nervous before."

Ophilia finally paused at the merchant's words before sighing once again. "I don't know," she admitted. "I never thought that I would have the chance to investigate all of this... I was convinced that the truth was going to be out of my reach forever, and now that I'm finally close to it..."

"You're afraid of what you're going to find," Tressa finished for her, and Ophilia nodded her confirmation. Tressa took a small step closer to her as she put down her bag on the bed behind her. "It's okay to be nervous, you know. This is a lot to do out of the blue, and I doubt that the Kindling starting soon is doing all that much to help you feel better about this, huh?"

Ophilia felt her breath catch in her chest at that. Of course the Kindling was making it harder. Ophilia just so happened to stumble into one of the two towns that could give her answers for her history, and regardless of what she found, she would have to pull herself together and look as refined as possible for the ceremony the following day. People were counting on her to maintain her composure regardless of how impossible it seemed, and even though that was a problem for the following day, the nerves continued to weigh heavily on Ophilia's shoulders. She felt as if she would never be able to breathe easily again after coming to such a harsh conclusion about the way her life was changing. 

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Tressa remarked. "Well, we can go to talk to Cyrus and everybody else after we're finished with unloading our stuff here. They said that we're going to dinner at the tavern, and that means that we can decompress while eating some good food and talking about everything that's bothering you. They don't want you to be worked up for the Kindling, and that means that they're going to want to listen to you talk about everything on your mind. At least one of them has to know what's going on, I'm sure."

Ophilia nodded at that, though she still felt as if she was going to be sick if she even thought about eating. "You're right," she murmured. She fell silent for a long beat before sighing. "You know... It was on this same pilgrimage that my adoptive father met my birth parents. Our old home village wasn't far from here, and Father passed through on his way to complete this leg of the Kindling. They hit it off and became friends almost immediately, and... After my parents passed, he took me in as a way of paying back his honor of friendship to them."

"I guess all of this is pretty personal to you then," Tressa said with a soft smile. "I can see why... Though I wish that it didn't have to all happen at once. I mean, life has been pretty nonstop for us ever since we first left S'warkii, though it's probably been a whirlwind for even longer than that too."

"Yeah," Ophilia agreed. "When Father came through Creek and met my parents all those years ago, my mother was pregnant with me... And he said that he would do what he could to come and meet me when he got the chance. I suppose that did wind up happening... Though I doubt this was what he had in mind."

Tressa nodded her understanding, and Ophilia reached for the Ember where it hung from her hip. She lifted the lanthorn up to her eye level and stared into the white flames that crackled at the center of the cage. "I... I want to go back home to him soon," she murmured. "I'm sure that he's going to find a way to hold on long enough for me to return. He may not have thought it, but... The healers believe that he'll recover one way or another, and I want to see him again. I need to thank him again for everything that he's done for me, and the first step of that is completing the Kindling so that I can show him all that I've learned."

Tressa smiled, and she reached out to take Ophilia's free hand between her own fingers. "And no matter what happens, you're not going to be in this alone," she vowed. "I know that it might seem scary right now, but we're going to figure out the reason behind the war that took Creek away, and after that, we'll take care of the Kindling. After all that we've done--after all the monsters and gods we've fought to reach this point--I think we can handle something like this. I mean, a little bit of research is nothing compared to the thrashing that some of our past enemies have given us, right?"

Ophilia couldn't hold back her laughter at that, and she nodded. "You're right," she whispered. "I never would have thought that I would be caught up in something like this when I was growing up in Flamesgrace. I didn't even think it would end this way when I first left the church behind to carry out the Kindling... But I suppose that life has enjoyed sending us all on an unexpected journey."

"I'm not complaining about it either," Tressa grinned. "After all, if life didn't throw us all for a loop, then we wouldn't have been able to meet each other, and... A life like that doesn't sound like much fun after all that we've managed to accomplish together."

Ophilia nodded. "You're right... And I know that the others are going to have my back no matter what we learn here in Saintsbridge," she announced. At long last, the nerves in her stomach began to settle, and she felt as if she could breathe easily for the first time in what seemed to be an eternity. "We're going to figure out what really happened all those years ago, and... Regardless of what the truth turns out to be, I know that we'll be able to face it together."

"That's the spirit!" Tressa exclaimed. "Now, let's go and catch up with them. I don't know about you, but food from the tavern sounds like a treat after all the fighting and walking we've done today."

Ophilia trailed after Tressa with a small smile on her face, and much to her relief, the rest of the travelers had already come to stand in the hallway that ran through the center of the inn. Alfyn pushed himself off the wall with a bright grin on his features. "Let's go and get some food," he announced. "I don't know about the rest of you, but after all that fightin' we did today, I'm absolutely starving."

"You wouldn't be the only one," Tressa agreed with a firm nod. "I hope the tavern here has good food. I could really use something aside from what we get on the road after today."

"The food here is better than what you'll find in most taverns," Therion confirmed, and Ophilia stared at him for a moment before realizing how he had been able to figure that out. Therion had likely passed through Saintsbridge before, and he had enjoyed the tavern's cuisine along the way. Ophilia didn't allow herself to wonder if Therion had purchased the food legally or simply stolen it though; that wasn't going to help anyone, and if anything, it would just distract her from her primary purpose at the moment. 

"That's a relief," Primrose smiled. "Come on, everyone. We want to still get a table together, don't we?"

With that, Primrose took to leading the travelers out of the inn and out onto the street. From there, she navigated her way to the tavern easily, and Ophilia couldn't help watching the city around her as she followed the dancer. Everything about Saintsbridge simply felt... Cozy. Homey. This wasn't Flamesgrace--something the warmer climate made perfectly clear to her--but it was still nice. Ophilia bit back a thought about how her parents had likely visited Saintsbridge many times because of how close the town had been to Creek. They had promised to take her one day when she was a bit older, though that had never come to pass. 

I'm finally here... I hope they're proud of me. 

The group arrived at the tavern soon afterwards, and Primrose was easily able to find a table big enough for the full party. She sat down at the first chair she could get her hands on, and the rest of the group filed in behind her. Ophilia was able to get a seat between Cyrus and Tressa, something she couldn't have possibly been more relieved by. As soon as they ordered their food, they would be able to talk. Finally, after all of her years of wondering, she was going to get an answer. 

The process of ordering food came and went in a whirlwind that Ophilia barely registered. She knew that she had selected something tasty since Therion nodded his approval from across the table as she spoke to the waitress, and Ophilia couldn't help but feel her excitement rise at the idea of the coming meal. She hadn't realized just how hungry she was until she stopped rushing around in a constant whirlwind of travel, and as soon as she had opened her eyes to the truth, she couldn't ignore it anymore. 

As soon as the waitress walked away to put in everyone's orders, Ophilia offered a quick glance to Tressa out of the corner of her eye. The merchant gave her a smile and corresponding nod of encouragement, and Ophilia bit back the next wave of nerves that threatened to swallow her whole. Instead, she simply nodded to herself before shifting her focus to where Cyrus sat on her other side. 

The scholar had been glancing around the tavern with curiosity in his eyes, no doubt trying to take in as much information about his surroundings as possible. Ophilia let one gloved hand rise before coming down to tap gently on his shoulder. "Cyrus?" she asked softly, though she still had to speak up a bit to be heard over the cacophony of the tavern's evening rush. 

"What is it?" Cyrus questioned as he turned to face her. His eyes were bright and full of wonder, and Ophilia's stomach did another handful of flips as soon as they met eyes. 

"Ah, um... I had a question for you," Ophilia forced herself to say, refusing to let her nerves get the better of her when she was so close to finally finding the answers she had been avoiding for so long. "I was wondering... Do you know anything about a conflict taking place between Saintsbridge and Quarrycrest about fifteen years ago?"

"Hm... I believe I did hear about that, albeit rather vaguely," Cyrus replied with a nod. Ophilia's heart soared with excitement as he continued. "I'm afraid I'm somewhat lacking on the details, but I believe it was a trade disagreement between the church and the primary leader within Quarrycrest. I can't say for sure, but I believe that the man responsible for many of Quarrycrest's financial agreements found himself on bad terms with the church, and Saintsbridge decided to stop trading with him. Since Saintsbridge is such an important and large city--one of the largest in southern Orsterra--Quarrycrest immediately slipped into panic, and I believe that led to an escalation of aggression."

Ophilia nodded to herself. It was nothing that she hadn't heard before, but she was still glad to have at least a few more precise details about it all. "What do you know about the leader of Quarrycrest?" she questioned. She didn't know why she was so intent on learning more about him, in all honesty; if he had been in charge fifteen years ago, then chances were that he had been ousted by this point, especially if he had earned the ire of the church so openly. 

"I'm afraid I don't know his name. My apologies," Cyrus told her. "However, I do believe that he was able to settle his dispute with Saintsbridge soon after it began, and the two towns resumed trade after a few months of conflict. Quarrycrest has never been a town known for its military might, and the church's forces were much stronger. Quarrycrest may have burned bright in its fighting prowess at first, but it flickered out quickly, and just like that, Saintsbridge was able to reopen trade agreements and eventually settle the conflict that had caused so much strife for both towns to begin with."

"Thank you," Ophilia said with a light nod. She glanced back down to the table, finding herself sifting through all that she had come to know about Quarrycrest and Saintsbridge over the course of the last few hours. Quarrycrest was responsible for the fall of Creek; that was something Ophilia had known for a great many years. Creek was within the greater Saintsbridge area, and that meant that much of its influence depended on the church. Creek was able to harvest crops for the city to sell, and as such, Saintsbridge had no real reason to lash out at such a firm ally. Quarrycrest had likely led an attack on Creek to try and cut off Saintsbridge's food supply, but in the end, that still wasn't enough for them to win the war, and all they had accomplished was wiping Creek from the face of Orsterra. 

Cyrus watched Ophilia for a long moment, a frown forming across his features. "I believe I can assume easily enough why you wish to learn more about Creek," he began. Ophilia looked up to meet his gaze, and Cyrus took that as his cue to continue. "That was where you were from many years ago, and now, you want to do what you can to uncover the truth behind your family's history."

"I... I never had much of a chance to ask about it before now," Ophilia admitted as she looked down to the table. "I was afraid of what I was going to find, and... I didn't want to think about the war any more than I had to. Nobody was talking about it in Flamesgrace, and it somehow felt wrong to ask anybody within the church about what happened. I thought it would be best if I just... Didn't talk about it."

"I understand... But you no longer need to worry. I would be more than happy to help you uncover the truth behind your questions," Cyrus replied with a smile. "I'm uncertain as to how much information we'll be able to find here in Saintsbridge since, as far as I have read, the people here are more than eager to leave the conflict in the past... Though I do believe that the current leader of the church may know something. After all, he is the one in charge of trade agreements and such within Saintsbridge. For all practical purposes, he is the leader of this city as well as the local church because of how closely the two are connected at the root."

"I suppose I'll have my chance to ask when we go to the church tomorrow then," Ophilia murmured. She felt her stomach do a flip, and part of her struggled to believe that what she was saying was real. She was finally going to be hearing the truth that she had been searching for all this time. Ophilia swallowed dryly and tried to not think about it too much. The last thing she wanted was to get too worked up about it now and decide to not follow through, or even worse, keep herself awake all night with theories that wouldn't be confirmed or denied until the following day. 

"We would all be more than happy to accompany you there, I'm sure," Cyrus assured her. "I would love to witness the Kindling's ceremonies for myself, and I have no doubt that the others feel much the same way. You have done much to support us until this point, and the others would be happy to return the favor."

"You're right," Ophilia whispered. She smiled at the words, allowing them to start to calm the storm that continued to thrive and thrash in the center of her body. "Thank you for talking to me about all of this, Cyrus... I really do appreciate it."

"You don't need to thank me, Ophilia," Cyrus said with a nonchalant wave of one hand. "I want to do what I can to help you. This is one subject where my knowledge is somewhat lacking because of where I studied, but I believe that I should be able to ask others within Quarrycrest and Saintsbridge for answers with time. I can begin my investigation tomorrow after we've gotten some rest."

"Thank you," Ophilia reiterated, unable to hold herself back even though Cyrus had insisted that she didn't need to say such a thing. She took in a careful breath before sighing. "I... I honestly have no idea what I'm expecting to find at the end of this path, but... I can't keep avoiding it forever. I thought I would be satisfied to not uncover the truth, but I suppose that being with the rest of you has taught me that it's alright to seek answers this way."

"Of course it is! The pursuit of knowledge is important for anyone regardless of social standing or occupation. It is human to want to discover more about the world around us, and in your case, I find it to be more natural than ever. You want to understand your past, and none of us will be holding you back from it," Cyrus declared, a grand smile spreading across his features. "I would be dishonest if I said that I knew what we will be uncovering on this path, but I will do what I can to assist you no matter what."

"It means a lot to have such amazing people like you at my side," Ophilia smiled, her fingers drifting towards the lanthorn once again. She felt the Ember begin to grow a little bit brighter, and the light and warmth was enough to flood her body with the calmness that she desperately needed given the circumstances. Everything was going to work out with time regardless of how anxious she got in present times. All she had to do was hold on and have faith for a short while longer. 

"We're happy to be here, my dear," Cyrus told her. He was on the verge of saying something more, but his attention was caught by something else instead, and he let out a gasp. "Ah! It appears our food has arrived."

Sure enough, when Ophilia glanced up, she noticed that the waitress from before had come back with plates of food for half the party. The woman set down plates in front of Cyrus, Ophilia, Olberic, and Alfyn before retreating to grab the second half of the dishes. Ophilia thanked her when she came by, and the woman simply nodded in return on her way back to the kitchen. 

"Until tomorrow, we should try our best to relax. You need as much rest as possible before the Kindling ceremony, and that starts with eating enough to make up for the energy you lost in the battles today," Cyrus continued. "We'll resolve our conflicts when morning arrives. That much I swear to you."

Ophilia nodded at that before looking down to her food. This was certainly what she needed after how troublesome and long the day had been. Even if it wasn't much, she had uncovered a bit more information about her past and all that had happened for Creek to fall. The following day, she would be able to talk with those within the church about everything that she had to know about Quarrycrest that she was not yet aware of. Everything was starting to fall into place, and Ophilia couldn't have been happier for it. 

But for the time being, she had the chance to eat and enjoy herself after a difficult day. Two other shrines had been taken out of the equation, and two new elements of magic had been claimed. Ophilia smiled to the other people around the table before sighing to herself. She couldn't have asked for a better group of people to join her on the Kindling, and she knew that no matter what she found out the following day, she would be alright as long as she had them at her side. 

For a few moments, the conflict of fifteen years ago didn't matter so much, and Ophilia was simply happy to have found yet another place to call home. 

Chapter Text

The following morning, Ophilia woke early and wrote a note to the bishop of Saintsbridge's church. She hadn't been given much of a chance to say that she had arrived the night before because of how late the group had gotten to Saintsbridge, so she decided to take care of her first duties for this step of the Kindling as the sun rose. Once she was finished, she dropped the letter off at the church for one of the priests to pass along to the bishop. In the note, Ophilia proposed meeting with him at the entrance to the town in about three hours, and if there were any issues, he could contact her to shift their plans. When she heard nothing back, Ophilia assumed the plan was going ahead as she had originally intended, prompting her to lead the rest of the travelers to the front of Saintsbridge around the middle of the morning. 

The Riverlands air was just as crips and clear as Ophilia remembered, and she couldn't help taking it all in with a smile on her face. Saintsbridge's charm still hadn't worn off on her overnight, and she found herself infatuated with everything from the structure of the shops to the specific shade of green that marked the grass just outside the town. She could certainly see why her parents had wanted to bring her here when she was little; she didn't understand how anyone couldn't just fall in love with Saintsbridge. 

Ophilia hummed to herself as she examined a shopfront not far from the front of the town. The rest of the group was with her for moral support, and she was glad they were. Even though she had started coming into herself since setting out on the Kindling, she wanted all the support she could get. She hadn't ever spoken to the bishop of Saintsbridge before, and she couldn't help feeling a bit intimidated at approaching such an important religious figure. Her heart skipped a beat whenever she thought about it for too long, so she opted to stare at the jewelry in the nearby store window to keep herself distracted. 

When Ophilia was finished, she glanced up and realized that a man wearing white robes was steadily approaching her. He was on the older side, all of his hair having turned silver long ago. He still carried himself with a degree of regality and calmness though, and that was more than enough to tell Ophilia exactly who he was. She pulled herself up to her full height, and that small action was more than enough to bring the rest of the travelers behind her to silence. They all stared at the man as Ophilia took a small step towards him. 

For a moment, Ophilia was afraid that she wouldn't be able to convince herself to speak, but she managed to push the words out even as her heart struggled to keep from screaming at the center of her chest. "Greetings, Your Excellency," Ophilia began, bowing her head and taking her skirt between her fingers to curtsey. "I am Sister Ophilia, and I have come to perform the Kindling."

The older man nodded with a smile. "We welcome you to our parish, Sister Ophilia. I am Bartolo, the bishop of Saintsbridge," he introduced. "I have heard a great deal about you from Archbishop Josef. For you to have come all this way in Sister Lianna's stead..."

Ophilia looked down with a small frown on her face, and she resisted the urge to drag her fingers across the lanthorn to calm her nerves. "I am deeply sorry for the sudden change in plans, Bishop Bartolo," she told him, trying her best to keep her voice as measured as possible. 

Bartolo, however, didn't seem to mind, as he simply shook his head with a tender frown on his face. "Think nothing of it, child. I heard of the archbishop's illness in his letter... You have my sympathies." 

Ophilia's stomach twisted at the mention of Josef's sickness. All of a sudden, she felt like she was being punched to the ground by all of her previous doubts about going on the Kindling to begin with, and she yearned for the touch of something familiar to keep herself composed. "You are too kind, Your Excellency."

Bartolo closed his eyes in contemplation before he continued, seemingly unaware of Ophilia's masked nerves. "I have not been so blessed as to perform the Kindling myself, but I know the pilgrimage is a trying one." He paused, glancing up and past Ophilia to the rest of the travelers standing behind her. "And yet, there is also much to be gained for one who undertakes it with an open heart and honest mind." He shifted his attention back down to Ophilia next, and she felt as if she was pinned in place by the kindness in his eyes for a moment. He meant nothing by it, but Ophilia's anxious nerves remained prominent regardless. "It will take every ounce of strength and courage, but for the sake of our church and our realm, pray see it through to the end."

Ophilia nodded gently as soon as she was able to convince her body to move once again. "Thank you, Your Excellency. I promise you that I will."

Bartolo smiled at that and gestured out to the town around him. "The people of Saintsbridge have waited with eager hearts for the coming of the Flamebearer," he told her kindly. "The warm light of the Sacred Flame guides and shelters us all to the depths of our hearts and souls." He turned on his heel and gestured for Ophilia to follow him. "Allow me to show you to our cathedral."

Ophilia nodded before taking a step after him. When she realized that she heard nothing from behind herself, she turned around and gestured for the other travelers to follow her. She smiled gently, and Tressa grinned before taking the first step. The others were quick to trail after the merchant, and with that, they began to follow Bartolo through the core of Saintsbridge. 

To no one's surprise, the rest of the town was just as beautiful and stunning as the portions that they had seen the night before. Somehow, Saintsbridge was even more lovely in the daylight, and Ophilia couldn't help but realize just how perfect the sunshine seemed to be when it meshed with the rest of the scenery. Her previous doubts began to melt away under the calmness of it all, and she realized once more that she was meant to be here. Aelfric had said that she was destined to carry out the Kindling, but her rationale ran much deeper than that. She felt content and calm for a few moments, and she knew that this was what she needed before the Kindling continued in earnest. 

The cathedral was impressive as well, and much like with Goldshore, its spires towered proud and tall over the rest of the town. The sunlight seemed to strike the silvery building perfectly, and Ophilia found herself entranced into stillness at the sight of it. She forced herself to press onwards though, once again remembering just how much Saintsbridge reminded her of every place that she had ever come to call home. 

The inside of the cathedral was just as impressive, though it was nowhere near as expansive as the Flamesgrace cathedral was. Still, Ophilia couldn't help staring at every small detail, and she let out a heavenly sigh at the sheer grace of the architecture. The peace of Saintsbridge extended outwards to every part of the town, and that certainly included the cathedral. Ophilia was sure that she would have been able to spend hours enjoying the atmosphere there and exploring for hidden details if she was given the chance. However, she had a duty to take care of for the time being, so she concentrated instead on following in Bartolo's path to the heart of the building. 

The Sacred Flame at the heart of the church burned tall and proud at the back of the main prayer room, and Ophilia couldn't help her infatuation as she stared up at the white flickers of fire. She had seen the Sacred Flame a thousand times in Flamesgrace, but something about seeing the familiar fire in a completely different town on the other side of Orsterra caught her by surprise. She stood there still as could be for a long moment, simply allowing the warmth to lick at her features without any hesitation or fear. This was the calming aura she required so desperately, and she was more than happy to embrace it where she could. 

"Behold, Sister Ophilia. This is the Sacred Flame of Saintsbridge," Bartolo explained with a grand gesture in the direction of the white fire. He turned to face the flame a moment later, a small frown knotting his features. "I stood in this same spot and witnessed the rite twenty years ago. At that time, the Flame burned strong, but now it wanes and flickers. Almost as if it were sapped of life."

Ophilia swallowed dryly at his words. He was right in saying that the Flame's power was nowhere near as prominent as it had been back in Flamesgrace, and she could tell that even though it was impressive, this was far from being the power that it should have possessed. In the back of her mind, Ophilia heard everything that she had learned from the gods leading up to this point. They had said that something bad was on the horizon for Orsterra, and the travelers were going to have to do everything they could to fight back against the forces of darkness if they wanted to save their home. At the time, Ophilia had wanted to do everything she could, but it felt comparatively distant when lined against all that the group had already been through. Rufus had been an immediate threat, but the tragic future of Orsterra seemed to be less so. 

That was, until Ophilia realized just how right Bartolo was about the Flame. She was glad to be able to see the fire for herself after coming all this way, but at the same time, she could tell that there was much more wrong than she could have ever anticipated. She struggled to keep from mentioning just how awful the situation was as she glanced up to Bartolo, her expression tightly curated to ensure no unnecessary details slipped free of her lips. "Do you believe it to be some sort of omen, Your Excellency?" she questioned carefully, already knowing how she felt about it but wanting to hear his thoughts on the matter regardless. 

Bartolo simply shook his head. "That I cannot say. But I do believe that the Kindling will restore our flame to its former vigor," he replied. He glanced to where the lanthorn rested at her hip before shifting his focus back to the Sacred Flame. "And now, Sister Ophilia, if you will..."

Ophilia nodded, feeling her heart skip a beat at the reminder of why she was there. She hadn't come to Saintsbridge simply to admire the scenery; it all came down to the Kindling, and she couldn't falter now. She reached for the Ember with anxious hands, doing her best to seem more composed and in control than she felt. "Of course, Your Excellency. I will begin at once," she assured him softly. 

Ophilia hesitated as Bartolo made his way up the stairs to the Sacred Flame. She glanced over her shoulder at the other travelers where they were gathered behind her, watching their expressions carefully. All of them had encouragement written in their eyes, a clear sign for her to keep going despite her anxiety. Ophilia couldn't help smiling in response before she turned around and followed Bartolo as well, breathing carefully along the way. She was ready for this. After all she had done to make it this far, she would be able to handle a ritual. The Kindling was the most important rite in all of Orsterra, but given the fact that she had helped to pull apart a trafficking ring, defeated the ruler of a forest, and brought a corrupt monster to justice, this felt like a piece of cake. All of that didn't even factor the gods that the group had defeated up to that point either. 

By the time that Ophilia had arrived in front of the Sacred Flame, she had managed to steel her nerves and concentrate her resolve on the gentle dance of the white fire. Everything about it was almost hypnotizing, but she did her best to not allow herself to get distracted. She raised the lanthorn carefully, and the Ember immediately responded once it was in the vicinity of its sibling, glowing brighter and bolder than ever before. 

"O great Aelfric, Bringer of the Flame..." Ophilia began, her mind casting itself back to when she had met the goddess the first time. She hadn't heard Aelfric's voice in the back of her head ever since then, but she was sure as could be that Aelfric was still watching over her. In part, Aelfric wanted to see how the Kindling played out now that Ophilia had been declared as the next Flamebearer, but on top of that, she had to ensure that the continent remained at peace. If disaster and catastrophe truly did rest in the near future, then the best she could do was look over her heir with everything she had. 

The words that followed came much easier in light of Ophilia's history with Aelfric, and she allowed the Ember to rise a bit closer to the Sacred Flame. "To you I offer my soul and my blood. With your First Flame, I kindle this fire. May it forever shelter the people of this land." Ophilia closed her eyes as the Ember's reaction grew stronger, and the glow was so bright that she could have sworn that it was going to steal her vision, albeit only temporarily. "Through the sacrament of the Kindling, grant us your mercy and your blessing."

As soon as the words had been spoken, the Ember let out a gentle whisper that Ophilia vaguely recognized as matching Aelfric's voice. She opened her eyes and watched as the Sacred Flame began to sing in harmony for one shining moment before falling silent once more, leaving behind only its previous dance. As was to be expected, the fire had grown stronger since Ophilia had spoken, and the cleric couldn't help staring up at the Flame. She hadn't expected the rite to be so simple. It was odd to refer to it as such a thing given how important it was to the continent's safety, but everything had been over so quickly. All that it had taken was a few words and the Ember to correspond with them, and just like that, the Sacred Flame was reinvigorated and sparked to life with the blessing from Aelfric that lived in every fragment Ophilia's body. 

The cleric was so caught up in her staring that she didn't even realize Bartolo was approaching her until he was speaking from just over her shoulder. "Ah! See how brightly the Flame shines now!" he smiled fondly. "Thank you, Sister Ophilia." 

"Of course," Ophilia replied with a grin of her own as she tucked the lanthorn back in its home at her hip. The Ember seemed happier than ever before, and she could feel its gentle energy soothing her much the same as how the Sacred Flame had a few moments prior. Everything about the moment felt like pure magic, and all Ophilia could do was let it all sink in with a smile on her face. 

Bartolo reached out and gently placed a hand on Ophilia's shoulder. "You must be tired after your long journey. Please take this time to rest and recover," he told her gently. 

Ophilia nodded. "Thank you, Your Excellency," she began before glancing up to see the rest of the travelers looking back at her. Once again, the warmth that came with exploring a new city filled her chest, and she glanced back over to Bartolo a beat later. "But since I am here, I would love to see more of your fair town."

"You honor us, Sister Ophilia," Bartolo smiled. "But should you not rest first? I would hardly want for you to exhaust yourself."

Ophilia shook her head. "My companions and I arrived in town last night. I am more than prepared to face the day," she assured him. "I shall return to speak with you more a bit later once I've seen more of the town, if that's alright with you."

"Of course," Bartolo responded. "Please make yourself at home. The people of Saintsbridge are more than happy to welcome you."

With that, Ophilia started down the stairs towards the rest of her companions, and she began to walk towards the entrance after gesturing for them to follow her. For a moment, most of the travelers were too shocked with her nonchalance to even realize that she was leaving, but they caught up with themselves soon afterwards. Most eyes drifted to the Sacred Flame before looking back to Ophilia and the lanthorn at her hip as they departed from the cathedral. 

Cyrus pulled himself away from the rest of the group and fell into step alongside Ophilia. "I never thought the day would come when I'd witness the Kindling with my own eyes," he admitted. He couldn't help smiling wider as he spoke the words, his nerves refusing to calm themselves under the power of his own excitement. "I keep telling myself to not get overly excited, but frankly, I just can't help myself!"

"I hope that it was more than enough to live up to your expectations," Ophilia replied. "The last thing I would want is for you to have come all this way only to be disappointed by what you saw."

"Of course not, my dear!" Cyrus exclaimed. "That was more than impressive enough... I'm more glad than ever before that I decided to follow you out of Atlasdam that day. Even if I had to leave on less than ideal circumstances, I know that this is the perfect path for me to follow."

"I'm glad to have you at my side too," Ophilia smiled. "I hope that you're looking forward to the next few steps of the Kindling as well. After all, we still need to go to Goldshore before returning to Flamesgrace, so there's a bit of the pilgrimage left to come."

"I'll be there regardless of what happens next," Cyrus assured her.  He nodded to himself before reaching into his bag to pull out a small notebook. "I should write this down before I forget what has happened. I want to recall this in stunning detail later on."

Ophilia smiled and nodded at that, allowing her previous uneasiness to melt away in favor of pride. The longer she talked with Cyrus, the more the truth sunk in: she had managed to perform the first step of the Kindling, and she had reinvigorated the Sacred Flame of Saintsbridge. Despite not originally planning to go on the pilgrimage, she had already done incredible things, and she couldn't help her grin as she thought of everything she had accomplished. She was far from being the same girl she had been back in Flamesgrace, and she was proud of herself for it. 

As soon as Ophilia stepped out into the sunshine, she let out a small sigh of relief. She didn't realize how much of a weight it was off her shoulders to know that she could perform the Kindling without fear, but it certainly seemed to be working wonders for her already. The conversation with Bartolo and the Kindling ritual that followed had taken less than an hour in total, and that meant that the rest of the group was Ophilia's to do with as she so pleased. She would be able to return to the cathedral a bit later on after she had learned more about the town. 

Ophilia wasn't entirely sure where she was headed as she continued to walk away from the cathedral, but she was confident that she was glad to have the break from her own thoughts. As much as she wanted to learn about what had happened to Creek all those years ago, she knew that she couldn't think about it too much when she was in such a good mood. She would be able to ask Bartolo later in the day, but for the moment, she wanted to enjoy everything that she and her companions had managed to accomplish. She had more than earned a short while to have fun, and it seemed as if exploring Saintsbridge was exactly what she was searching for in that department. 

"This is all your fault, Emil!"

The cleric had been wandering through the town for about five minutes without a care in the world when she suddenly stopped on the spot at the sound of yelling. She was easily able to locate the source of the yelling to be three young boys. One of them had brown hair, and he appeared to be the one that had cried out to begin with. The second boy had black hair, and as far as Ophilia could tell, he was the child named Emil. The final boy stood a few feet behind his brown-haired companion, and his tresses were a gentle blonde color and combed neatly and close to his face. The tension was thick enough to be cut with a knife, and Ophilia found herself staring at the top of a small set of stairs nearby. 

"I... I..." Emil stammered, staring down at the ground with a frown knotted across his features. He appeared to be shaking ever so slightly, but he did his best to mask it. Even so, he refused to look up at the boys before him, seemingly unwilling to find the confidence or resolve to even make an effort at looking confident. 

"We're gonna make you sorry!" the blonde boy cried out as he took a step closer to his friend. Everything about his expression was a perfect picture of rage, and Ophilia found herself caught off guard at the sight of a child looking so completely consumed by anger. 

Emil, on the other hand, rested on the opposite end of the spectrum. His sadness and anxiety was becoming much more apparent as the seconds went by, and Ophilia could have sworn that she saw tears welling up in his eyes. "I am sorry! I am!" Emil insisted. 

"You think that if you cry, that'll make everything alright?" the blonde boy asked as he crossed his arms. The mocking in his tone had only grown worse with his new question, and Emil looked as if he wanted to sink into the earth from raw embarrassment and shame. 

"I'm sorry... I said I was sorry..." Emil repeated, though he was clearly losing his desire to fight back as the argument got more heated. The brown-haired boy took another step towards him, and Emil's tears only grew more prominent in his eyes. 

Ophilia couldn't hold herself back any longer, and she surged forward before pushing both Emil and the brown-haired boy away from one another. She glanced back and forth between them carefully. "And what's going on here?" she questioned, not expecting an answer. "Break it up, now, break it up."

"Emil lost Derryl's brooch!" the blonde boy cried out. "It's gone now because of him!"

"I... I'm sorry, Derryl..." Emil murmured, swallowing so that he didn't cry in front of the other boys. 

"Sorries aren't going to bring back his brooch! You know how important it is to him!" the blonde boy exclaimed. 

Ophilia leaned over and pressed her hands against her knees before looking between all of the boys. "Why don't you tell me what happened?"

Derryl huffed before walking up the stairs past the travelers. He ignored all of them to instead concentrate on the blonde boy. "Hmph! Ask Emil, if you really want to know!" he said haughtily. "Come on, Nate. Let's get out of here."

"You said it, Derryl," Nate agreed. He brushed past Emil on his way to meet his friend, shoulder colliding roughly with the other boy's body. Emil stumbled before managing to correct his posture again a moment later, though he rubbed at his eyes to try and dispel his tears before they could continue to fall. 

Nate walked up to stand just beside Derryl as the brown-haired boy spoke. "We'll be back for you later, Emil. If you know what's good for you, then you had better find that brooch," he declared. 

With that, the two boys pivoted on their heels and walked away, leaving Emil to watch them with tears in his eyes and shaky hands. He swallowed dryly once again before staring down at the ground. Even as Ophilia watched the two boys leave before shifting her focus back to Emil, he refused to look up to meet her gaze. 

Ophilia crouched beside Emil before placing one tentative hand on his shoulder. Emil was still for a moment before allowing himself to sink into the touch. "Emil, was it?" she asked of him. He simply nodded, unable to bring himself to speak, and Ophilia took that as her cue to continue. "I'm Sister Ophilia. I'm a cleric journeying on behalf of the church."

"Journeying...?" Emil echoed before recognition flickered across his features. "Oh! Are you here for the Kindling?"

Ophilia nodded. "That's right. But I've already completed the rite, so..." She gave him a small smile, allowing cheerful playfulness to inject itself into her tone. "Are you going to help me look for this brooch or what?"

Emil looked up at her with shock once he had wiped at his tears with his sleeve. "Y-You'd really do that for me?" he questioned. 

Ophilia nodded once again. "I really would. So... Cheer up, okay?" She winked to him as she pushed herself back to her full height and extended one hand in his direction. 

For a moment, Emil remained still before he managed to shake his nerves off and nod feverishly in agreement. "Thank you, miss! I mean, Sister! Thank you, Reverend Sister!"

"Just Ophilia is fine," Ophilia told him. "Now, let's get down to it." Emil nodded before turning towards the nearby bushes to sift through them, and Ophilia glanced up to the rest of her group where they were standing nearby. "I'm sorry for the delay, but I want to help Emil. If you'd prefer to take care of other things within Saintsbridge, I would be more than happy to catch up with you later."

"Don't worry about it," Tressa assured her before anyone had the chance to interject. "We want to help you, and that means staying at your side now... We can try to find the brooch too. I'm sure the work would go a lot faster if there were even more of us working to figure out where it disappeared to, right?"

"You're right," Ophilia agreed. She glanced to the other members of the group, searching their expressions for any signs of protest, but when she was met with nothing, she nodded once again. "Thank you all for this. I appreciate it."

"Don't worry about it, Phili," Alfyn told her with a wave of one hand. He started down the stairs at that before moving towards the bushes that lined the nearby area, and the others were quick to follow his lead. Ophilia simply smiled after them and wondered what she had done to deserve such an incredible collection of friends. 

Ophilia wound up crouching beside Alfyn in the opening stages of the search, and he reached towards one of the bushes before gasping at the sight of them. "What a nice little specimen..." he murmured. 

"Is this a special type of bush?" Ophilia questioned as she glanced over to him, realizing that he was referring to the bush rather than the potentially found brooch. 

Alfyn nodded. "It's nothin' like what I've seen back home... But it does make sense. You can find lots of rare plants and herbs in these lands," he explained. "Especially lion's ear and sweet wormwood--a dash of each makes nearly every salve more effective. When I was studyin' to be an apothecary, I sometimes came into the Saintsbridge area in search of ingredients."

"I had no idea," Ophilia remarked. "You certainly seem to know a lot about plants, Alfyn."

"They're crucial components in any tincture or potion, so it's part of the job," Alfyn explained. He pointed to a flower found on the bush before continuing. "Here, look at this one. White skullcap, they call it. The petals are good for fevers. I grind them with root starch and honey to help cure some sicknesses. It was one of the first medicines I learned."

"That's incredible," Ophilia smiled. She glanced down to the flower before touching it gently. "It's a beautiful flower too."

Alfyn nodded before curling his fingers around the bud. "Isn't it just?" He sniffed at the center before shaking his head with a fond smile. "It's nice to be back here."

"Maybe you can show me a few of the other plants around here once we're finished searching for the brooch," Ophilia suggested. 

Alfyn's eyes lit up, and he nodded as his fingers drifted to the Rose Axe. "I'd love that," he grinned. "And I'm sure this beauty will make it even easier for us to do."

Ophilia nodded her agreement before looking back to the bushes. "I'll be looking forward to it," she beamed. With that, she continued to sift through the leaves for any signs of the brooch that had spurred all of this to begin with. It had to be around there somewhere, and once she found it, she would be able to look forward to a day full of exploring Saintsbridge. 

She didn't think that she could have asked for a better way to begin the Kindling anew even if she tried. 

Chapter Text

Since finishing her conversation with Alfyn, Ophilia had spent about five more minutes searching for the brooch. She brushed her hands carefully through the bushes, taking caution so as to not accidentally rip the fabric of her gloves. Unfortunately, she hadn't come close to finding anything out of the ordinary. She had curled her fingers around a few loose leaves that travelers in the city must have dropped, and Ophilia chose to not pocket them only for Therion to do the honors when he thought Ophilia wasn't looking. She knew what he was up to, and he knew that she knew. Of course he did.

Emil frowned and let out a sigh when he rose to his feet after searching through two massive bushes. "Maybe it really is gone..." he murmured, sounding so disheartened and sad that Ophilia could feel her heart breaking. When she glanced over at him, Ophilia could see that he was staring down at his feet again, no doubt desperately trying to convince himself to not cry. 

Ophilia pushed herself up as well before walking in his direction. "You're sure this is where you last saw it?"

Emil nodded. "Yeah... Derryl bumped into me, and I guess that's when he dropped it," he explained. He continued to scan the area with a frown on his face, almost as if he was willing the brooch to come out of hiding and end his conflicts then and there. 

Ophilia hummed at his words, a light frown on her features. "Is that so...?" It was sounding as if Emil wasn't the one to blame for this at all. She didn't want to level accusations against Derryl since he was only a child, but at the same time, if he had been the one to drop it, then that meant he shouldn't have been pointing fingers at Emil to begin with. 

Once again, Emil nodded, and he swallowed dryly while continuing to stare down at the ground. "The brooch belonged to Derryl's mum," he told her softly. "She died just the other week... That brooch is more important to him than anything. I have to find it!"

Ophilia did her best to hide the fact that Emil's words made her feel as if she had been punched. She nodded slowly once she was finished processing everything that he had said. That was why Derryl had been so defensive when he thought the brooch was gone. He was grieving, and he was taking out that negativity on others. "That's very kind of you, Emil," Ophilia told the young boy, unable to say what was racing through her mind rapidly. All of a sudden, she was left thinking of Creek again and how much she had grieved after losing her birth parents so many years ago. She didn't think that she had ever felt more alone, and even though Lianna and Josef were there to help her through it, she had still wanted nothing more than to hide from the world. After all, how was someone so young supposed to understand how to face overpowering emotions like grief?

Emil shuffled one foot against the stones below, guilt still clear as could be across his features. "Derryl can be rough sometimes, but we're all friends," he went on. "It's just that... Well, after his mum died like that, he's been so angry about everything..." 

For a long moment, the air over the both of them was silent, and Ophilia did her best to seem composed. She knew all too well what it was like to be caught up in grief and lose sight of much else aside from the misery that came with loss. It wasn't Emil's fault nor was it Derryl's burden to bear, but all of this reminded Ophilia of how she had been so many years ago when she first moved to Flamesgrace from Creek. She knew that she had been miserable and isolated back then, and all she wanted to do was lash out at the world with rage in her heart. At the time, she hadn't understood why other people had killed her parents, and in a way, she still didn't understand beyond the vague blanket statement that people could be terrible and awful. There was little that had consoled her back then, and in a time when she was being forced to confront her history with Creek once more, she had no idea how to face the return of all those awful emotions after spending so many years without them. 

Emil seemed to notice the silence and its overpowering strength, and he looked up at Ophilia with desperation to break through the veil of uncertainty. "Do you think he'll play with me again like he used to, Sister? If we just find his brooch?" he asked, voice edging on a broken type of anxiety Ophilia hated having to experience again so many years later. 

Ophilia nodded, shelving her overwhelming anxiety on the matter, and placed a delicate hand on Emil's shoulder. "Of course." She knew grief all too well, and she knew how irrational it could make people behave. If Derryl's outlook was anything like how hers had been, all she needed was a bit of reassurance to start allowing people inside. It wouldn't be easy, but it was the best way for her to face the pain of loss. "He'll see how hard you worked to make him feel better, and I'm sure he'll come around." Lianna had done that for her so many years ago, and it had been one of the most important, pivotal moments of Ophilia's life. 

Lianna... 

Emil remained silent before her, nodding uncertainly but clearly not entirely sure that Ophilia's ideals would bring themselves to fruition. The cleric did her best to not let her heart completely shatter at the sight of his downcast gaze. What she had to do for him at this point was try to ease him through this difficult time. She wasn't entirely sure what she was going to do next, but she had to at least put in the effort. Children were much more perceptive than most adults gave them credit for, and if Emil saw that she was trying, then he would open himself up to her a bit more. 

Ophilia cast a brief glance over her shoulder to see where the other travelers were standing, and she realized that all of them had halted their searches for the brooch as well when they recognized that it was a fruitless effort. They had looked through the area thoroughly at least twice over already, and they hadn't found even the slightest traces of the brooch. Ophilia sighed inwardly before looking back to Emil's saddened, downtrodden fact. They weren't getting anywhere by just searching in this area. She had to try a different approach. 

When Ophilia thought about what to do next, she was immediately met with the idea of going to talk to Derryl. It was clear that the reason he was lashing out was because of his overpowering grief and sadness, and even if Ophilia wasn't entirely sure as to how she was going to console him, the least she could do was try. She knew that sting all too well, and what Derryl needed most was somebody who would be able to sympathize with him. Ophilia was more than happy to be that person, and she turned her attention down to Emil carefully. 

She waited until after Emil had noticed that she was watching him patiently before speaking. "Emil, would you be able to tell me where Derryl lives?" she questioned carefully and gently. 

Emil nodded. "Yeah... Are you gonna go and talk to him?" he asked, almost afraid of the answer that he was going to receive. His eyes were fragile and watery, but he was doing his best to hide it. 

"I am," Ophilia replied with a small nod. "Perhaps he'll be able to help us find the brooch." When Emil shifted nervously at the words, she offered him a gentle smile. "I'll talk to him. You don't need to be afraid. I can take care of this."

"Okay," Emil murmured. "I can take you there and then wait outside until you're finished talking to him... Is that okay?"

"Of course," Ophilia smiled. She watched as Emil nodded to himself, still clearly nervous but trying to put on a brave face, before he began moving in the direction of Derryl's home. Ophilia trailed after him a few moments later, the rest of the travelers hot on her heels.

Primrose fell into step alongside Ophilia a moment later, her expression dark in a way that no words could ever quite describe. "So, that brooch was an heirloom from the child's mother," she whispered.

Ophilia nodded. "That's right," she said, already able to see exactly why Primrose was so anxious all of a sudden. Ophilia didn't know all that much about Primrose's mother since the dancer hadn't ever brought her up in great detail before, but given the fact that she had been alone in Sunshade when the travelers found her, Ophilia could only assume that Primrose had been orphaned with the death of her father ten years prior. 

On that note, Primorse reached for her dagger where it rested at her hip, examining it carefully with sorrowful eyes. "It's important to keep one's parents in your heart even after they have passed on," she murmured. "I don't know where I would be if I didn't have at least the memories of my past at my side."

"Your parents must have been incredible people to have raised such a lovely daughter," Ophilia smiled to Primrose, wishing she had the words to comfort the dancer's anxieties in full. However, Ophilia knew it wouldn't be that easy; grief was a difficult beast to battle, and she had come to understand that all too well years ago when she lost her birth parents to the conflict between Saintsbridge and Quarrycrest.

"Thank you, Ophilia," Primrose said softly. She looked down at the dagger once again, relishing in the way her fingers curled around the blade. "Even long after the people pass away, the memories of them yet remain, and every once in a while, you simply need a physical manifestation to remind you that... That they were once here. It may not seem like much, but on your darkest days, that can be more important than anything."

Ophilia nodded her understanding as she reached out and let one hand rest on Primrose's upper arm. Primrose smiled down at her, eyes bittersweet but still full of love. "We're going to find that brooch," Ophilia assured the dancer firmly. "And we're going to make sure that he never forgets his family. He deserves that much, and... I'm going to do everything in my power to help him."

"He's lucky to have someone like you in his corner, Ophilia," Primrose smiled, her eyes sparkling with something sad. "I wish there were a few more people like you in the world. I'm certain it would make everything that much brighter."

Ophilia flushed at Primrose's words, unsure as to how she was meant to respond to that. She wound up simply nodding as she watched the intricate metalwork on the dagger for a little while. "Thanks," she whispered tenderly.

Before Ophilia or Primrose had the chance to say much more than that though, they were cut off by Emil finally coming to a halt where he stood at the front of the group. They were now standing in front of a house that Ophilia could only imagine had been filled with laughter just a few short weeks prior, but with the sickening pain of sudden loss hanging over everyone's heads, that was little more than a fragmented memory. She understood the sensation all too well, and she wished it didn't feel so familiar. It was like she could sense the grief as it continued to press down against everyone's bodies and minds. 

"This is it," Emil told Ophilia, his gaze still wracked with anxiety and fear. "Do you think you're gonna be okay? I don't want him to be upset with you."

"I'll be fine," Ophilia assured him with a smile that came all too easily to her. "I can handle myself, and I'll do everything I can to talk to him. We'll find the brooch, and I'll make sure you two are friends again as soon as possible."

Emil simply nodded. "Thank you, Sister," he said softly. He paused for a moment before glancing over his shoulder back at the other area of town where he had been searching for the brooch. "I... I'm going to go back to looking for the brooch for Derryl. Maybe I'll get lucky and find it..." His voice shook ever so slightly, almost as if he was afraid of speaking too loudly and accidentally upsetting Derryl where he stood on the other side of the door. Realistically, there was no way for Derryl to have heard him, but given their dispute earlier, Emil couldn't seem to calm his fears. 

Luckily for him, Ophilia was there to ensure that everything was smoothed over with time, so she knocked carefully at the door with a gloved hand. "Derryl? Can I come in?" There was no answer, but when Ophilia tried the knob, she realized that the door had been unlocked. She took a moment to brace herself for Derryl's potential rage at her walking in before she entered the building, allowing the door to tap shut gently behind her. 

Derryl barely even seemed to notice that she was there. Instead, he was standing at the far end of the room and staring at the wall blankly. Ophilia couldn't see his face, but she could only imagine that he had come to shift his features into the very picture of grief. She took another grounding breath before she continued to speak. "Derryl, might I speak with you for a moment?" she asked softly. 

Derryl turned around cautiously at the sound of her voice, almost like he didn't know what to expect, before his eyes seemed to finally see recognition at the sight of her. "You're that sister from before..." he murmured, surprised to have a visitor. He shoved his shock aside a moment later. "Well, did you find my brooch?"

Ophilia shook her head. "Not yet."

"Then hurry up and find it already! It's more important to me than anything!" Derryl cried out, all of his previous surprise replacing itself with rage at her words. Something in his eyes was afraid as well, and he looked a lot like a caged animal. He was afraid of being alone, but he refused to say that out loud, instead simply taking out all of his upset on Ophilia, and by extension, Emil. 

Ophilia took a careful step towards him, trying her best to seem calming and gentle. "We're both looking for it as hard as we can, so why don't you forgive Emil, okay?" she questioned. She could see the anger continuing to boil over in Derryl's eyes, and she could tell that she was going to have to play her cards as carefully as possible to ensure that he didn't completely snap at her. 

"It's his fault that it's gone! I'll forgive him when it's back!" Derryl cried out, crossing his arms angrily and roughly. No matter how much he tried to hide it, that caged animal look was still clear as could be in his gaze, and Ophilia felt her stomach churn at the sight. 

However, she refused to let that show openly. "Not until you get it back? How sad..." Ophilia commented instead. She began to mull over her words, trying to find something else to say that would make Derryl feel better, but it was much harder to ease someone through grief than she would have thought. Then again, what did she expect? She knew what the pain was like, and her recent resolve to investigate Creek's final hours was only making it harder for her to leave it in the past. 

Derryl seemed completely appalled at her words, and his eyes went wide with rage and shock. "'How sad?' If anyone's sad here, it's me! I'm the one who doesn't have a mum anymore!" he roared at Ophilia, tears starting to prick at the corners of his eyes even though he was clearly still fighting to banish them. 

The cleric allowed her eyes to fall shut as she tilted her head towards the floor. "Yes, you are the sad one. I know the pain you must be feeling," she murmured, doing her best to not think about Creek at a time like this. She was failing at her aims, but at least she was putting in the effort. She glanced up at Derryl again a moment later, hoping he couldn't see the vulnerability that was starting to take root within her. "And I also know that hurting Emil does nothing to ease it." Derryl looked away from her, staring daggers into the ground, as Ophilia continued. "There is nothing as painful as losing a loved one... But do you not love your friends as well?"

Derryl was quiet for a long moment before he shook his head and looked away. "B-Beats me! He lost my mother's brooch!" he exclaimed, though his voice wavered under the heavy influence of tears regardless of how much he tried to hold himself back. "He doesn't know how I feel, and neither do you! Nobody does! How could he understand?! He still has a mum!"

"And yet he's still out there searching for your precious brooch," Ophilia pointed out. "Searching for something his friend holds dear... Because he wants to help you to feel better."

Derryl looked over at Ophilia and scoffed as he turned away. "Yeah, right. I bet he's given up and gone home by now!" he exclaimed. Ophilia recognized the wavering note in his voice as the all-too familiar brutality of self-sabotage, and she tried to ignore the way that it made her stomach twist. As things currently stood, nothing was going to convince Derryl away from what he thought was the truth regardless of how false it truly was. Ophilia was going to have to try a different approach if talking to him was falling so short of her intentions. 

Ophilia watched him for a long moment, and her mind was cast back to Emil. The other boy had left as soon as he had brought Ophilia to Derryl's home because he was trying to find his friend's brooch. In other words, Ophilia would be able to show Derryl solid evidence of his friend's care for him by showing him that Emil was still searching. If words weren't going to work, then she was simply going to have to resort to actions, and Ophilia was more than happy to do everything she could to ease Derryl through this dark time. 

"Derryl, will you come with me?" Ophilia eventually managed to question into the silence. "There is something I'd like you to see." Her tone made it perfectly clear, albeit rather gently, that she wasn't leaving any room open for objection, and she gestured towards the door as Derryl turned to face her. 

"Yeah?" Derryl asked, though he still seemed somewhat hesitant given the previous subject of their conversation. "What is it?

"You'll see when we get there," Ophilia told him gently. She reached out with a careful hand and took his fingers between her own before beginning to guide him towards the house's entrance. 

"H-Hey!" Derryl cried out in shock, but he didn't do anything to push back against Ophilia as she guided him out of his home, closing the door behind herself. She remained similarly careful as she took him back to the area of town near the bushes where Emil had been searching for so long, keeping a gentle smile on her face the entire way there just in case Derryl needed that extra little bit of reassurance. 

Ophilia finally stopped at the top of the stairs nearby, standing exactly where Derryl had when he had so openly and fiercely berated Emil less than an hour beforehand. "There. Would you look at that?" she commented simply, gesturing forward with her free hand. 

Sure enough, just before them, Emil could be seen, continuing to rustle through the greenery in a desperate bid to find the brooch. He moved on from one bush to another when he was satisfied with his first target, his expression pinched with anxiety and a desire to please others. Derryl just stared straight ahead for a long moment, his eyes going wide. "Emil... He's really looking for it?" he asked, almost as if he didn't believe what he was seeing. 

"Why... Why can't I find it anywhere?" Emil murmured to himself. His voice was just barely in Ophilia's earshot, though it was clear the boy hadn't intended for anyone else to hear him. "Where could it have gone?" He didn't stop to muse on it for long though, instead getting right back into the search again a moment later. He dropped to all fours and turned his attention to a nearby flowerbed before letting one hand sift through the dirt in search of something steely. 

Derryl continued to stare at him, and Ophilia took this as her opportunity to speak once more. "You know, Derryl... Emil told me something," she began. "He said you've been angry at everything and everyone since your mother passed. But he hoped--if only he could find your brooch--that you might be friends again."

Derryl's expression shifted to something that tasted a lot like bitter shame in the back of Ophilia's throat, something she understood all too well. After all, grief had hardly been kind to her either all those years ago, and she could still remember it with tragic clarity. She hated having to see Derryl experience that same thing, but at the very least, she would be able to help him and Emil through it together. They deserved that much. "Emil said that?" Derryl questioned when he was finally able to summon words once more, still refusing to take his gaze away from his friend. 

Ophilia nodded, and Derryl looked at the ground with guilt in his eyes over all he had done. For a long time, neither one of them spoke, and Ophilia closed her eyes in quiet contemplation. "I lost my parents, too, you know," she said carefully, the words feeling wrong on her tongue even though she knew they were the only truth she had ever known in the last fifteen years. 

Derryl seemed shocked at that, and he looked up at her with ghastly surprise in his gaze. "Y-You did?" His mind seemed to cast itself back to his words about how Ophilia would never be able to understand him, but he didn't dare to speak his thoughts aloud. 

Ophilia nodded once more. "I was a little younger than you are now," she explained. "I asked myself over and over, 'Why am I the only one whose life is so miserable?'" She shook her head as Derryl continued to stare up at her silently. "But my life was not all sadness and misery. I was blessed with people who loved me. At first, I had closed my heart to them in sorrow. I didn't even try to see how much they cared."

Derryl stared down at his feet and where they met the cobbled stones below. Ophilia allowed a small, tender smile to find a home on her face, her thoughts shifting to the bright grin that she had come to know so well on Lianna's lips. "But there was someone who never stopped trying to cheer me up no matter how much of a fool I was." She glanced down to Derryl once more before speaking. "It was my sister, Lianna..."

~~~~~

Ophilia stood near the window in the room that had been declared as hers since she arrived in Flamesgrace. Two weeks had passed since she had moved from Creek, but it felt as if an eternity had passed. Nothing felt right anymore, not since her parents had died. She could still remember the familiar scent of smoke and how it mingled with crimson blood when she closed her eyes, the truth of the past too close and familiar. She couldn't outrun it; her parents' deaths hung heavily over her shoulders, and she was not strong enough to mount a defense.  Ophilia barely even had the energy to speak. Every part of her had felt destroyed before being sucked out of her chest, and all she could do was stare blankly at the world around her. What else was she supposed to do?

If only everyone else was as hopeless as she was.

Lianna came in after waiting for a few seconds outside. She had knocked, but as usual, Ophilia hadn't been able to find the energy to respond. They had gotten used to this song and dance, treating it as yet another part of their daily routine as natural as eating or sleeping. Ophilia wasn't shocked at all, and she didn't turn to face her sister. Sister... That was what Josef called them now, but Ophilia didn't know if she agreed with the term. After all, she was an only child. She had a family, or at least, she used to. This was not her home, and this was not her family. Her family was gone.

This time, Lianna came with a flower in her hand. It was a bloom exclusive to the Frostlands, and Lianna absolutely adored it, but she was more than happy to share the flower's beauty with Ophilia when she got the chance. "Here, Phili! This is for you!" Lianna remained there with the flower in her outstretched hand as Ophilia turned to face her, expression still pale and lips still wordless. "So now... Won't you play with me?" Lianna questioned, her eyes eager as could be. 

For a long time, Ophilia simply stared down at the flower, uncertain as to what she was meant to say. She slowly but surely peeled her gaze up to meet Lianna's eyes, and the two watched one another for a couple of breathless moments. Ophilia saw that overwhelming kindness in Lianna's eyes, and for a moment, she wished more than anything that she could move away from her grief. 

But she pushed it aside and continued to watch Lianna for a little while longer. Something about this felt precious, and Ophilia wished that she knew what to think of it all. 

Maybe everything could be alright after all... Maybe. 

~~~~~

Ophilia concluded her story easily and placed one hand on Derryl's shoulder. "It was her kindness that saved me. If you close your heart, you'll never realize just how much others care about you," she explained. "Do you know what I mean, Derryl?"

Emil looked up at her for a long time, his eyes full of grief the same way Ophilia could only imagine hers had been when Lianna first reached out to her so many years ago. He eventually managed to pull away from her, letting out a scoff along the way. "It's not my fault! I didn't make Emil do anything! If he wants to search, let him! Why is everyone always blaming me?!" 

There was that caged animal look again. Ophilia refused to be deterred by it though, so she simply shook her head. "I'm not blaming you for anything."

Derryl's expression twisted into shock. "Huh? B-But... You just said..." 

"No one here's blaming you. Unless, maybe, you're blaming yourself...?" Ophilia prompted, allowing her voice to trail off into silence. "Perhaps you're feeling guilty for making your friends feel bad, hm? I can tell you're a good kid, so why don't you be honest with Emil?"

"B-But... I-I'm not..." Derryl attempted to stammer, though it was clear that his last defenses were finally starting to subside. 

"Here. I'll come with you. Let's go," Ophilia suggested, starting to guide him in the direction of the flowerbed Emil was searching through. Derryl remained silent and still for a long moment before he nodded and started to trail after her.

Behind Ophilia, the rest of the travelers fell into place, having spent the last few minutes watching the conversation unfold from afar. Tressa caught up to Ophilia with a small smile on her face as she nudged at the blonde's side. "You're pretty good with kids, huh?" she questioned softly. 

"I'm doing what I can to help someone suffering. That's all there is to it," Ophilia told her quietly, speaking as carefully as she could to make sure Derryl couldn't overhear her. She shot him a quick glance before continuing. "Losing someone you love is a pain like no other... And I know that all too well. The least I can do is try to help him face the future."

Tressa nodded and looked over to him as well. "Do you think a bit of candy would cheer him up? I saw some nice sweets in town earlier, and most kids like candy," she offered. 

Ophilia smiled down to Derryl and nodded. "Yes... I think he would enjoy that," she replied. "Maybe you're not half bad with kids either, Tressa." She gave the merchant a mischievous grin at that, silently telling Tressa that it would have been accompanied by a light nudge had she not been focused on Derryl at that moment. 

"Maybe," Tressa commented with a loose shrug. "But I can get that candy after he's talked to Emil. After all, we don't want to leave them hanging for too long... And maybe we can get some for the rest of the group too. Given what we're going to be looking into later today... I think you'll need it."

Ophilia watched Derryl for another moment before she nodded, something bittersweet starting to cloud over at the corner of her eyes. She hated how much she related to Derryl and all of the pain he had already endured, but at least he was receiving the help he needed... And so was she. "Thank you, Tressa."

Chapter Text

"Huh?"

Ophilia stopped walking after she and Derryl descended the stairs down to the area where they had last seen Emil searching. Ophilia had been planning on continuing to move forward for a few more seconds, but she was cut off when Derryl came to an all too sudden halt as he glanced around the area, expression twisted with confusion. "What's is it?" she questioned carefully. 

"He's gone," Derryl murmured, and a quick glance around the area told Ophilia that Emil had vanished from view in the few moments that she and Derryl hadn't kept their eyes locked on the area. Ophilia silently wondered just how distracted she had gotten while talking to Tressa on the way over here. Derryl, meanwhile, took another step forward to try and see if he could spot where Emil had gone off to. His eyes were full of confusion and heartbreak, like he couldn't understand why his friend would suddenly abandon the search so soon after his faith in Emil had been restored. He didn't say it out loud, but Ophilia could sense the betrayal deep within Derryl's heart. 

"Oh, Derryl! What are you doing here?"

Ophilia shifted her attention at the sound of a voice that was familiar to her in a way she didn't quite recognize at first. She eventually found her eyes locking on Nate, and the blonde boy approached her and Derryl carefully. 

Derryl, for his part, didn't seem to know how to answer, and he fumbled in silence for a moment. When he did finally find words, they hardly even seemed grounded, instead rolling clumsily from his tongue against his will. "Oh, I... I just... Um..."

Ophilia was quick to cover for Derryl's moment of distraction, taking a step towards Nate as she spoke. "And you're Nate, yes?" she asked gently. 

Nate seemed almost stunned that she was speaking to him at all, but he nodded a moment later. "Yeah. What's it to you?" he questioned, voice immediately verging on defensive. 

"We were looking for Emil," Ophilia explained, not wanting to accidentally upset Nate. He seemed to be in a rather delicate position emotionally if his wariness was anything to go by, and Ophilia could only assume that Derryl's recent tension had been rubbing off on him for better or worse. "Have you seen him? He was here just a short while ago."

Nate nodded. "Oh, yeah. I saw him running off after some dog," he said, the anxiety in his body starting to melt away when he realized that Ophilia meant no harm. 

"A dog?" Ophilia echoed, confusion writing itself across her features. She didn't know what she had expected to hear as the explanation for Emil's sudden absence, but she certainly hadn't factored a dog of all things into the equation. 

Nate nodded. "Yeah, just a few minutes ago. There was this dog, and it had something shiny in its mouth," he went on. "Emil was saying something about how he was sure it was the brooch, and he went running off that way..." He pointed over Derryl and Ophilia's shoulders towards another path that led off to the east of Saintsbridge. In the distance, Ophilia could see trees lining the horizon. 

"That way? Toward the Murkwood forest?" Derryl questioned, immediately proving Ophilia's suspicions about Emil's destination. 

"The forest?" Ophilia hummed to herself. 

Nate nodded once again, and Derryl let out a strangled gasp of shock. "Is he crazy?!" he cried out as he whirled around to face Ophilia. "That forest is full of monsters! We're not allowed to go anywhere near it!"

All of a sudden, Ophilia felt her heart skip a beat. She was on the verge of saying something about chasing after Emil, but she was cut off when Nate took a step forward and shook his head. "Ah, it'll be fine. Just think about it," he began, and Derryl turned to face him with a small frown. "Emil's a total coward, right? There's no way he'd go into that forest on his own. I bet he's running home now, crying all the way!"

Derryl looked up at Nate with tears starting to rise in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. "S-Shut up!" he shouted, voice about to shatter under its own weight. 

Nate took a small step backwards and held his hands up in a defensive gesture. "Hey, what's your problem? You know what Emil's like," he countered. 

Derryl, however, didn't offer him a true response, instead turning to face the trees on the skyline. "I gotta go after him!" he exclaimed. He took off running again a moment later, leaving Ophilia and Nate in his dust. 

It took Ophilia a moment to catch up with what she was seeing, and she staggered for a moment before trailing after him. "Derryl, wait!" she called in his direction. She turned to look at Nate for a moment, trying to hide her panic so as to not infect him with it as well. "Nate, could you stay here for me? I'm going to get Derryl and Emil so that I can bring them back. Everything is going to be fine."

"Alright," Nate said carefully, though he barely seemed to mind that Ophilia was so upset about the situation to begin with. Ophilia gave him a nod before she turned and trailed in Derryl's footsteps, the rest of the travelers hot on her heels all the way. 

"They said the name of the forest was the Murkwood," Alfyn commented as the travelers continued to move as quickly as they could manage through Saintsbridge without earning too much attention or ire from the others in the town. 

"That certainly sounds dangerous," Cyrus murmured. "It would be in our best interests to find the boys before they can get too deep into the forest. That will only end with them getting hurt, I fear."

"Then let's get to it," Ophilia announced without missing a beat. Fear was starting to pound against her chest like a drum, and she had no idea how she was supposed to calm herself. She hadn't known Emil and Derryl for long, but she didn't want anything bad to happen to either one of them. They were still only children, and they deserved to be safe. These boys had suffered enough as far as Ophilia was concerned, and the last thing she wanted was for them to be visited by the trauma of being caught up in a dark situation such as this one. 

H'aanit fell into pace alongside Ophilia as the group drew nearer to the edge of town, a frown on her face. "A dog with a brooch in its jaws? That certainly soundeth like our target," H'aanit remarked. Ophilia looked over at her in curiosity, and the huntress took that as her cue to continue. "When dogs catchen prey they aren too full to eat, they oft buryen it for safekeeping. They aren collectors as well, and they often hiden away sticks, toys, and old bones."

The pieces began to click together in Ophilia's head, and she nodded. "That's why we weren't able to find the brooch before now. The dog may have buried Derryl's heirloom and went back for it to bring it back to its den," she concluded.

H'aanit nodded her confirmation. "The dog meant no malice. It actede solely upon instinct," she explained. "The dog is not what we should fearen... The problem is the forest. It is home not just to animals, but dangerous monsters too. As a hunter, I feare them more." The end of H'aanit's sentence was left unspoken, the part that stated the fear was for the young children who had wandered into the danger with the best of intentions, and Ophilia felt as if she was going to be sick. 

Still, the cleric did her best to steel herself. "As do I, to be honest," she murmured. "I pray that Derryl and Emil are unharmed..."

"We must reachen them as soon as possible. Leten us keepen moving," H'aanit said, speeding her pace again a moment later. Ophilia nodded before trailing after her, narrowly tilting her body to avoid colliding with a woman who was carrying a few bags of groceries back to her home. Ophilia resisted the urge to wince at the close call, instead focusing her attention solely on the trees bleeding into the horizon. 

The only thought that whirled within Ophilia's mind was that she had to find both of them safely. The people in Saintsbridge could feel however they wanted about her as long as she could bring Derryl and Emil back safely. She tried to comfort herself by saying that they hadn't been there for long, but she still had an awful feeling about all of it. 

Please be safe... That's all I ask of you.

~~~~~

Deep within the heart of the Murkwood, Emil found himself in a clearing surrounded by trees native to the Riverlands. Barely any sunlight was managing to filter through the overhead leaves and branches, darkening the area with shadows and making it nearly impossible to see. He glanced around the region, desperate to catch even the slightest glimpse of something shiny to show that he was in the right place. When he found no trace of the brooch or the dog, he let out a frustrated sigh. "Where'd that dog go?" he muttered. He took another few steps forward before turning to look behind him, and he realized that he didn't recognize anything that he had seen up to this point. He had been following the dog for quite a while, but he hadn't been keeping track of just how much distance he was covering. "And how far in am I...?" He shook it off a moment later, trying to steel his resolve and push through his nerves. "Never mind. I have to find that brooch!"

"Emil!" 

The black-haired boy turned at the sound of his name, and he saw Derryl dashing into view from the direction that he had first come from. Emil stared at his companion for a moment before he was finally able to form words once more. "Derryl?!" he cried out, unable to restrain his shock. He took a few steps forward, holding his hands up defensively. "I-I'm sorry! I haven't found it yet! Please, just give me a little more--"

Derryl's expression twisted into confusion before he took a step towards his companion. "What are you talking about?! We've gotta get out of here!" he exclaimed, reaching out to grab Emil's hand and drag him towards the exit of the Murkwood. 

Emil looked over his shoulder, a frown lining his features prominently. "But the dog--"

"Forget about the stupid dog!" Derryl shouted back. 

"But--" Emil began, but he was never able to finish his sentence.

A growl pierced the air and echoed throughout the clearing.

Emil took a small step back, his expression growing pale. "D-Did you hear that?" he asked, his voice wavering as a clear sign that he prayed Derryl did not answer in the affirmative.

"Run for it, Emil!" Derryl commanded as he went to turn on his heel and run back the way he came. 

That was when the dog appeared.

The beast was massive, its hair a dark purple color. Its muscles were impressive, a sign that it had spent a great many years honing its skills in hunting and tracking prey. The hair near its head was a stunning silver color that would have been much more impressive and magnificent if it was not an omen of doom for the pair of young boys. Its eyes glimmered gold and dangerous in the darkness of the forest.

Emil let out a scream of surprise, and he was left glued to the spot from shock and fear. Derryl took a step in front of him, throwing an arm in front of his friend. "Stay back!"

"D-Derryl?!" Emil cried out. As soon as he spoke the word, the beast let out another scream that shook the air and could have torn the earth to shreds with just a bit more horrifying volume. As the wolf took another step forward, Derryl remained unyielding, holding his arms out defensively in front of his friend.

An arrow streaked through the air before landing straight in the beast's side.

The wolf screamed in pain, and the boys turned to see where the attack had come from. H'aanit stood at the entrance to the clearing with her bow at the ready, and the other travelers were filing in behind her. Ophilia was at the front of the group, and she pulled both Derryl and Emil back as swiftly as she was able. "Thank the heavens we arrived in time!" she exclaimed. "Now get behind me--both of you!"

The two boys retreated as Primrose sent out a quick blast of dark magic from the Shadow Fan where it was poised in her grasp. The wolf recoiled at the strike, staggering backwards by a few paces before looking up to glare at her. Cyrus created a wall of ice to keep the wolf at bay, the Tome of Tundras sparking with pale blue light between his fingertips.

Ophilia, however, did not participate in the battle. Instead, she turned her attention once again to Derryl and Emil, trying to paint a calming expression on her face despite all that was happening just in front of her. "Don't worry. Everything's alright now. You two were very brave," she told Emil and Derryl carefully. She glanced to the entrance of the clearing, wondering how fast she would be able to usher the two boys to safety. 

However, she was cut off when the ice wall at the center of the clearing shattered. The wolf had made a mighty swipe across the center of the divider, sending shards of ice flying in every direction. Ophilia held up her arms to block the fragments, but in the end, that was unnecessary. Wind rushed in from nowhere to destroy the lingering pieces of the ice, and Ophilia knew Tressa was responsible without even having to look in the merchant's direction. Instead, Ophilia continued to watch the wolf as the beast stalked ever nearer. Even if they tried to run now, they would only be bringing the creature into Saintsbridge. It was fully intent on giving chance, and Ophilia could see that undeniable truth gleaming in the monster's eyes. 

"It willen not letten us escape," H'aanit declared, having come to the same conclusion as Ophilia. "Our only option is to fighten it." She primed her bow at the ready before reaching for another arrow, ready to set the attack loose the instant she was given a clear shot. 

Ophilia nodded her agreement as she looked to Derryl and Emil, shocked at how easily she was able to maintain her cool demeanor even in the face of such a massive beast. "I need both of you to stay back, alright?" she told them carefully. "My friends and I are going to take care of the wolf so that we can leave, but you need to stay behind us. We know what we're doing. Everything is going to be alright as long as you stand behind us. Can you do that for me?"

Derryl and Emil were both too stunned silent to speak, so they simply nodded before staggering back a little bit more. In the end, they wound up settling behind a small rock sitting just in front of a fallen tree. Ophilia watched them with careful eyes before nodding and turning her attention back to the task at hand. As long as the children were safe, she could focus everything she had on stopping the wolf, and she could already tell she was going to need every advantage of concentration that she could get.

Tressa sent a quick blast of wind out when Ophilia glanced in her direction, and the wolf was sent sliding back by about three feet from the impact. Unfortunately, the wind didn't do much in terms of damage, and the beast launched itself forward in a pouncing motion again a few seconds later. H'aanit eyed the monster's stance before glancing over to Tressa, her eyes flickering to a spare spear sticking out of the merchant's bag. Tressa looked over at her, and as soon as she could tell what H'aanit was eyeing, she tossed the extra lance in the huntress' direction. H'aanit simply nodded before she began to stalk around the outside of the clearing in search of a weak point in the wolf's defenses. 

Before the beast could strike once more, Cyrus created a wall of ice. The wolf's claws were stuck in the sudden burst of icicles, and it roared in pain as it tried to pull away. Its efforts were ultimately unsuccessful, and everyone could already tell that the monster was weak to ice magic. Olberic raised his blade before bringing it crashing down on top of the wolf in a grand arc. The slash was more than enough to make the beast scream, though this dislodged it from the ice. 

As soon as the monster had regained its bearings, it began to launch itself in Olberic's direction. The warrior raised one arm, and the beast bit down firmly on his lower arm. Olberic's clothing was thick enough to keep the strike from doing too much damage luckily, and he continued to let the monster stare at him with a glare in its eyes. He curled his sword around in his other hand, twisting his grip so that he could reach the beast a little bit easier. He brought the blade down in a stab towards the monster's side, though that did nothing but tighten the wolf's grip on his arm. Olberic hissed in pain, praying that his defenses would be able to hold out long enough for him to claim the upper hand once more. 

Luckily for him, Primrose was more than ready to watch his back, and she sent out a firm yet quick blast of thunder magic that slammed into the wolf's abdomen. The creature let out a scream before being sent sprawling through the clearing, landing perfectly at H'aanit's feet. She stabbed downward with the spear in her hands, and the wolf shrieked in pain once more. Ophilia had no idea how H'aanit was able to figure out that the beast was weak to the specific power found in lances, but she wasn't objecting to the damage H'aanit had managed to deal in the slightest. Then again, H'aanit was the huntress of their party; if anyone was going to know how to unravel the defenses of a monster, it was going to be her. 

That was clearly what the wolf was--a monster of the Murkwood, not an ordinary dog. Ophilia didn't even want to know how it had managed to get into Saintsbridge unbothered to begin with, though she supposed that it had probably done so under the cover of night. Perhaps curiosity had led the creature to the town during the day, though its camouflage was much more effective in the darkness. It had certainly been confident, wandering into Saintsbridge as it had. 

It camouflages best in the darkness...

The thought hit Ophilia immediately when she thought about the current battle critically for a few seconds, and she raised the Illumination Staff before letting a blast of light magic rock the center of the clearing. The energy exploded outwards, making the ground tremble for a brief moment before the earth fell still once more. She kept her gaze locked firmly on the wolf the entire way through the attack, gauging its reaction as carefully as she could stand.

And just as she had expected, the wolf recoiled with a scream.

If the beast was truly most accustomed to traveling at night--something Ophilia could easily assume was the case given the color of its coat--then it was going to have strong night vision but struggle against sudden blasts of light. Sure enough, she had been right, and Ophilia couldn't help smiling at the sight. The wolf was left stumbling for a moment after the fact, struggling to see anything farther away than its own nose. Regardless of what the travelers did next, they would be able to get away with it because of how jarred the beast was. 

In other words, it was their cue to unleash their strongest attacks yet, and Ophilia was more than happy to take advantage of the blessing she had been given. She was about to charge up yet another blast from her staff when she was cut off by the sound of Primrose's voice beside her. "Hold on," the dancer said, and Ophilia looked in her direction with a small frown. A moment later, Primrose launched into a quick twirl, and Ophilia immediately felt her power levels rise. The dance had given her a boost of strength, and that was going to help with defeating the wolf, no doubt. 

Cyrus, Tressa, and Primrose herself all seemed to be feeling the influences of this as well, but the dancer didn't stop there. Instead, she executed yet another swift performance, and this time, power surged through the other half of the travelers' party. Ophilia could feel the sudden boost of power hanging heavily in the air, and she couldn't help but smile to herself. This was what they needed to do in order to defeat the wolf, and she knew this would be more than enough. 

Tressa was the first one to strike, charging her lance with a blast of electricity magic before stabbing it in the wolf's direction. Cyrus followed up with a lightning blast of his own while Primrose and Ophilia shared a knowing glance. Ophilia poured all of her energy into the Illumination Staff, and Primrose mustered her own arcane strength before they released their light attacks at the same time, sending an explosion of white throughout the area. The wolf was too exhausted and jarred to even bother to scream, and the light magic gave the rest of the travelers the chance they needed in order to follow up with attacks of their own. 

H'aanit followed Tressa's lead in spreading electricity throughout one of her arrows before sending it flying, and Therion reached for his sword before slashing it in the wolf's direction. Alfyn covered the tip of his axe with ice magic before slashing at the beast, though he retreated immediately afterwards, Therion in hot pursuit. Olberic was the only one among them who had yet to strike, and everyone could tell that whatever was about to happen was going to be massive.

Sure enough, Olberic had pressed his sword's hilt between his fingers, and the air in the clearing seemed to grow thick with the power he was preparing to unleash. Ophilia knew without even having to ask that it was going to be their first demonstration of Brand's holy gift: overwhelming strength. They hadn't done much to embrace the blessings of the gods yet, but Olberic was about to change all of that with his next motion. 

A single sword slash was all it took to bring the earth to tremors and the endless power of the gods to life. The stones of the ground below pushed themselves apart in an impressive display of strength, sending a single endless stream of power rushing towards the wolf. The beast was struck in the side, and the clearing went perfectly silent as the attack ended. It was as if the world had been brought to ruin for that brief moment only for everything to return to the way it had been as soon as all was said and done. 

For a long time, nobody could do anything but stare. Olberic had not yet moved from where he lashed out, and the other travelers were simply watching him from their places scattered around the clearing. Derryl and Emil stared with shock written all over their faces from behind the nearby rock. The air seemed to swell and pulse with the breathing patterns of everyone present, as if it understood that they were admiring a beauty few mortals had ever been able to witness. 

Then came the groaning. 

Ophilia tore her gaze away from Olberic and down to the wolf, and she realized with a silent gasp that the creature was still alive. In fact, it was rising to its feet, a snarl on its lips and more anger gleaming in its eyes than ever before. It had survived the hit, and on top of that, it was plotting its next action of revenge to ensure that it won this fight. 

"How in the world...?" Primrose questioned under her breath. She shook it off again a moment later before sending out an explosion of light to try and strike at the wolf's previous injury. The beast jumped out of the way at the last second before lunging in Primrose's direction, fangs bared. 

Tressa sent out a quick blast of wind magic to give Primrose the speed and momentum she needed to roll out of the way and come up from the grass in a crouch. The wolf rebounded off a tree before jumping towards the next closest target it could find: Therion. The thief was ready for it though, sword braced at the ready to defend from the next attack. The wolf's teeth curled around the sword, completely uncaring as to the wounds that the sharp edges of the blade were going to create if it continued down this path. Therion grunted with the force it took to keep the beast at bay. Not even the strength that he had been given by Primrose was enough to keep him from completely losing his composure here, and Ophilia could hear Therion's shoes skidding against the ruined earth below as he attempted to fortify his defenses. 

The wolf's tail lashed out when Therion finally managed to push it away, and something came falling free of the thief's waist. Ophilia realized upon closer examination that it was his dagger, though Therion didn't have the chance to reclaim it. The strike from the wolf's tail sent him stumbling sideways, and he immediately lunged and rolled to get out of the way when the beast prepared to pounce once more. 

Before Ophilia could fully say what she was doing, she was reaching for the dagger and bracing it between her fingers. Cyrus had struck at the wolf with a blast of ice while she was doing so, and Alfyn had taken a mighty swing with his axe as well. Alfyn's blade struck the injury that Olberic's overwhelmingly powerful attack had created, and the beast resisted the urge to scream. It turned to face him, no doubt preparing to lash out one final time to end the battle for at least one of its combatants. 

H'aanit was prepared for this though, sending out an arrow charged with thunder magic to strike at the beast's injury as well. The wolf was sent flying off course from the sheer force of the attack, and the monster rolled a single time before coming up once more in a crouch. Before it had the chance to adjust its field of vision to see where Alfyn had disappeared to though, the earth began to shift. Stones piled up before rooting the beast in place, and Ophilia glanced over to see Therion holding his free hand up with a frown firm on his features. The stones mounted quickly enough that the monster was unable to retaliate, leaving it trapped on the spot with no way of escaping. 

Ophilia couldn't say for sure what caused her to act in the way she did a moment later, but she raised Therion's dagger above her head as she charged towards the beast. She stabbed downwards once she was in front of the wolf, and all of a sudden, everything went silent. The clearing's air stilled, and everyone was left staring at her. However, they were certain that this time, the battle truly was over. There was no way that their enemy could have reconstructed its strength after an attack like that, and they could all tell. 

They were saved. 

The wolf was silent save for one final small whimper before it crashed to the ground. The motion was graceless and inelegant, not that anyone was particularly surprised. Ophilia stared down at the beast, uncertain as to how she was meant to feel. She had never liked the idea of taking away the life of a living creature, and even if she had fought against a few monsters in the past, it had never felt quite like this. Then again, she supposed that her foe had never been this overpowering and impressive before now. The others had previously delivered the killing blows, and she hadn't ever been given the reason to question as to if this was truly something that she would have to consider. 

Still, there was little she could do about it now, so Ophilia yanked the knife free of the wolf's skull before letting her arm fall back to her side. The Illumination Staff was still braced in her other hand, and she was glad that she was holding so tightly to it so that nobody could see how shaky she felt on the inside. Externally, she looked like a warrior queen, staring death in the face without blinking an eye. She was more than happy to let others believe that was the full story though; she didn't want to do anything that could frighten the children she had been fighting to save. 

The other travelers were quick to gather around the wolf as soon as they realized the battle was over, and at long last, Ophilia felt as if she could breathe once more. At her side, Therion's knife dripped with blood, splattering the grass below. Nobody dared to stare at the pool of crimson gathered just to the side of the cleric, and Ophilia was happiest of all to ignore the fact of the matter. 

She had accomplished her purpose, and everything else could wait, including the rushing of her own thoughts.