《The Kiss of Two Moons》


 Chapter 1 ~ The First Day of The Last Spring

    ~Hope


    ¡°This isn¡¯t the place.¡± I whisper, watching the children play among the flowers as their parents watch on from afar. Some watch more attentively than others, and there are still many nursing hangovers from last night¡¯s celebrations.


    More than a few have taken their celebrations too far and are still passed out on the street, though nobody really minds it. The flowers mostly cover the ill scents of booze and vomit.


    I lift my bags from the ground and shoulder their familiar weight, turning away from the scene.


    A few tears sparkle on the cheeks of the parents I pass, one old man is sitting on the corner of the streets ranting and raving in half-drunken lunacy. No one pauses to listen, and I soon leave his rambling behind.


    The whole town seems to have agreed to take the day off, as most of the population seem to be either relaxing in the flower fields and embracing spring¡¯s coming, or sleeping in and enjoying their dreams.


    I walk along the old cobblestone road, checking over my supplies again, while hoping that my usual shop is open. I don¡¯t want to waste another day waiting around until the owner recovers from a hangover.


    A wooden sign board hangs over the door to the shop, freshly painted in garishly bright colours. The fair fowl, it¡¯s called, though the pink and green monstrosity in the image is nothing that I would consider ¡®fair¡¯, and barely recognisable as a fowl.


    The owner stands outside looking up at the sign with a wet paint brush in his hand, and a ladder by his side.


    ¡°What do you think?¡± He asks, looking over at me for a moment.


    ¡°It¡¯s a good thing that you don¡¯t make a living from painting.¡± I say. It hurts less to look at the sun, it might burn your eyes, but at least the colour scheme is inoffensive.


    ¡°Bah, you wouldn¡¯t know good art if it bit you on the behind.¡± He replies, his great big smile deepening the wrinkles around his face.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think art is meant to bite.¡± I reply, looking up at the painted fowl.


    ¡°Then what¡¯s it even good for?¡± He asks, setting aside his brush and leading me inside. ¡°You come by for something?¡±


    There¡¯s a reason I come to his store over the others, he doesn¡¯t hold me here for hours on end with small talk that I¡¯d rather not deal with. Small talk is apparently part of the bartering process, or something like that.


    ¡°I brought some more shell.¡± I say, pulling the dark black shell from my bag and setting on the table. I only brought the largest and easiest to carry parts, but even so, there should be plenty here to trade for what I need.


    The old man hums thoughtfully as he glances over the goods, I don¡¯t quite get what there is to see, but I leave him to it as I look around for the things I¡¯ll need. Mostly just travel rations.


    ¡°You heading back out to the desert?¡± He asks, turning his wizened eyes up from the shell.


    ¡°No.¡± I reply, reaching for the bag at my side. It¡¯s still there. ¡°I found what I was after.¡±


    ¡°You have?¡± He asks, his smile broadening. ¡°Just in time too.¡±


    ¡°I guess.¡±


    ¡°From your being here, I¡¯m guessing you¡¯re leaving us, then?¡± He asks, tapping his finger on his table.


    ¡°What is it to you?¡± I ask.


    ¡°This¡¯ll probably be the last I see of you before the Lovers embrace takes us all.¡± He says, rubbing at his chin. ¡°The truth is, I can¡¯t do much with this shell. The travelling merchant I usually sell it to has headed off, I don¡¯t think they¡¯ll be back.¡±


    ¡°Ah¡­¡± I look down at the travel rations that I¡¯ve taken from the shelves. I don¡¯t have any coins, or anything else I can use to trade.


    ¡°There was another this other travelling merchant who left town just this morning. She was the sort to pick up strange things like this, if you could catch up with her on the roads, I¡¯m sure you could make a deal.¡±


    ¡°Which way?¡± I ask.


    ¡°She was heading out of town along the north road.¡± He says, ¡°She¡¯s riding on an old, flat wagon, pulled by a beautiful, black horse. You can¡¯t miss her.¡±


    I nod, hanging the shell back over my shoulder as I head out of his store.


    ¡°Live well.¡± He shouts, ¡°And enjoy your spring.¡±


    ¡°You as well.¡± I say, turning for one last look at the old man. He wears the same smile as ever, but the wrinkles are a little deeper, and his hair a little greyer.


    I quietly nod in goodbye and take my leave.


    Stepping over a passed-out drunkard, I turn onto the north road and put some more energy into my step. The wagon wheels have left deep grooves in the cobblestone over the years, and for the longest time no one has bothered to repair the damage.


    The space between the wood and stone buildings slowly increases the further I get from the centre of town, until I pass the last of them, only a few distant farmhouses ahead of me.


    I quicken my step, sparing the nameless town only a brief glance back before focusing on the road ahead. I need to catch up with that merchant if I don¡¯t want to sleep on an empty stomach tonight.


    I check my gear again, but nothing¡¯s changed. My sword is still free, and my bags are still bound together.


    A warm breeze rolls in from the desert far behind me, familiar but unwelcome, it washes away the chill morning air.


    Sanguine looks down at us from above, her warm red colour subdued by the light of the sun. The red moon is alone this morning, Cerulean, her lover, is asleep for now. It¡¯s less than a year until they finally meet, and our world ends.


    This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    The Lovers embrace, some call it.


    Hard packed dirt road is harder on my feet than the desert sands, but it¡¯s so much easier to walk on. My growling stomach urges my feet to move faster. Perhaps, if I¡¯m lucky, I can catch up before lunch.


    The road cuts through empty fields, some scattered with the same flowers I saw in town, but never so thick with them. A few, gangly trees offer a little shade, here and there, but nothing much more than that.


    The first forests should be found nearer to the snow peaked mountain range ahead. I¡¯ve always wanted to see what a forest looks like, and the mountains from up close.


    Scattered hills grow more common the further north I travel, and the road dips and rises slowly as it weaves between them. Climbing one of those hills to get a better view of the area, I turn back and see the vast desert behind me.


    I hope this to be a final farewell.


    Unfortunately, the desert still clings to me, even if I want to let it go. The desert sands hide in every seem of my boots and remains scattered throughout my bags, I¡¯ll probably be pulling sand from my boots right up until the end.


    I look up to Sanguine above.


    ¡°Would you be ashamed of me? Of how I¡¯ve lived?¡± I ask, my hand finding the brown bag at my side. It¡¯s still there.


    ¡°This is enough for me.¡± I say, looking at the dirt beneath my boots. ¡°All that¡¯s left after this is to watch the end.¡±


    A cool breeze rolls in from the mountains to the north, and I return my focus to the road ahead, looking for the merchant.


    ¡°Just do what I tell you to do, idiot!¡± A deep male voice shouts loudly from the north, the sight of him blocked by a hill.


    He doesn¡¯t sound friendly.


    Unstrapping my backpack, I draw my sword and rush up the next hill. I can vaguely make out the sounds of an argument taking place and slow my steps when I catch sight of the people below.


    A flat wagon has been stopped in the middle of the dirt road, a tall black horse¡ªfar too tall and beautiful for the wagon it¡¯s harnessed to¡ªsnorts in aggravated displeasure at the young men standing in its way.


    The young men carry weapons, but they¡¯re quivering in fear, much like a maid caught red handed stealing her master¡¯s jewellery. Those closest to the horse are already taking steps back from it.


    ¡°I can give you my coin, but that¡¯s all I can spare.¡± The woman sitting on the wagon, with the reigns in her hands, says to the large man standing beside her.


    ¡°You don¡¯t understand how this works, do you?¡± Asks the man as he plays with the hilt of his sword. ¡°You do what we tell you to. If we ask for the dress you¡¯re wearing, then that¡¯s what you¡¯re going to give us.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not convinced that it¡¯d fit you,¡± Replies the merchant, ¡°Though if that¡¯s what you want, I know a seamstress who could make you something quite lovely. Layers of frills, and a low cut to show off those large breasts of yours.¡±


    ¡°Pecs. They¡¯re muscles, not¡­¡± The man growls low before laughing with his deep voice. ¡°Do you know who I am?¡±


    ¡°Are you a famous consort or something?¡± She asks, brushing her blonde hair aside as if to get a better look. ¡°I can¡¯t say your particular style is familiar.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s see how long you can keep that attitude.¡± He says, stepping closer to the wagon.


    ¡°Excuse me, ma¡¯am.¡± I call out, surprising the bandits and the merchant both as I stroll down the hill, my sword returned to its sheath and the black shell in my hands. The other young men widen their eyes at the sight of me, stepping back in confusion and letting me pass.


    ¡°Yes, do I know you?¡± She asks, turning away from the large bandit, who looks my way in uncertainty, trying to figure out what I¡¯m about.


    ¡°No, but I was told that you¡¯d be interested in this black shell.¡± I say, holding it up a little to show it off. ¡°It¡¯s from the monsters of the desert.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that does sound interesting.¡± She says, waving me closer. Her long blonde hair keeps getting blown into her face, and she has to fight to keep it away.


    ¡°Does no one understand what¡¯s happening here?¡± The bandit loathes, staring between us as he scratches at his head.


    ¡°Don¡¯t mind him.¡± The merchant says, ¡°He fancies himself a bandit.¡±


    ¡°Is that common?¡± I ask.


    ¡°More than you¡¯d think.¡± She shrugs and smiles.


    ¡°Damn fake bandits, no one takes banditry seriously anymore.¡± The large man groans, rolling his eyes as he glares at the other men around him, who cower away. ¡°The world is ending and suddenly a bunch of losers want to give it a try. Merchants throw a few coins on the ground, and they run around picking them up like the beggars they really are.¡±


    I get closer while he¡¯s making his speech, the shell in my hands somewhat hiding the sword on my hip. He clearly doesn¡¯t see any of us as a threat.


    ¡°A real bandit-¡±


    One breath, one movement.


    My blade sinks into the man¡¯s chest, his voice dying as he slowly realizes what¡¯s happened. My shell falls to the ground at our feet with a small thump.


    The bandit looks down at me in surprise, grasping for his own weapon. I pull my sword out, and quickly step away.


    The other young men look between me and their leader, who is falling to his knees trying to hold his blood in, and failing. They¡¯re mouths hang open, not one of them draw their own weapons.


    ¡°Who¡¯s next?¡± I ask, looking between them.


    The first to turn and run breaks the silence, the rest quickly follow.


    ¡°Thank you!¡± Shouts one strange fellow as he runs. ¡°That guy was a dick!¡±


    ¡°Well, that was all rather exciting. A shame that we missed the end of his speech, but it was too perfect for this world, apparently.¡± The merchant says. ¡°It seems like you saved me. By what this man was saying, I owe you the very dress off my back.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d rather some food and, ah, some directions too.¡± I reply. Watching the young bandit die, feeling my stomach twist as I meet his despaired gaze. It isn¡¯t the first time I¡¯ve killed someone, but it still feels wrong.


    ¡°Well, lets head along a little further before talking.¡± She says, waving me around to the other side of the cart and patting the seat beside her.


    I turn away from the dying man.


    ¡°I need to get my bags.¡± I say, ¡°I¡¯ll be back in a moment.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be waiting.¡± She replies.


    I rush away, hoping that none of the other bandits stumbled upon my things. I don¡¯t want to waste time hunting down a thief.


    Thankfully, my bags are untouched. Shouldering the familiar weight and checking again that everything is as it should be, I quickly rush back to the merchant.


    I slow my steps as I get closer, hearing a strange and peaceful lullaby whispered on the wind. The merchant kneels by the side of the dying bandit, while singing, a bloody dagger in her hand.


    ¡°Goodnight.¡± She whispers, standing and brushing off her dress. ¡°You have everything?¡±


    ¡°I do.¡± I reply, stepping closer as she wipes the blood from her dagger.


    ¡°Well, let¡¯s be off. You can put your things in the back if you like.¡± She says, hopping up to the wagons seat.


    I carefully place my bags close to the front of the flat back wagon, and climb atop the old wooden seat. The wooden bench has been worn down over years of use, and the back of the wagon rattles as we start to move.


    The horse, however, shows greater dignity. The proud horse stands tall, its black coat has been recently brushed and retains a certain luscious shine. It looks at me the same time as I look at it, and snorts before it returns its attention to the road.


    ¡°Don¡¯t mind Shadow. He as stubborn as a mule and behaves like an ass.¡±


    Shadow snorts, stomping at the ground, while turning his head to look at her.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you deny it.¡± She waves a fist at him. ¡°Anyway, my name is Fate. What about you?¡±


    ¡°Hope.¡± I reply. She smiles hearing it.


    ¡°Another victim of new age naming.¡± She says with a quiet chuckle. ¡°Is there something I can help you with, oh saviour o¡¯ mine?¡±


    ¡°Travel rations.¡± I say.


    ¡°Rations? You want to live your last year on dried rations?¡± She asks.


    ¡°I¡¯m going somewhere.¡± I say, shuffling uncomfortably to her questions.


    ¡°Where¡¯s that?¡± She asks, ¡°If we¡¯re going the same direction, I could share some of my meals instead. I don¡¯t carry much in the way of dried rations.¡±


    ¡°Ah¡­¡± I pull some of the sand out of my nails as I think over her offer.


    ¡°At least until the next town.¡± She continues. ¡°You¡¯re not in that much of a rush, are you? We¡¯re heading the same direction?¡±


    ¡°Somewhere beautiful.¡± I say, staring up at the god in the sky above us. ¡°I want to find somewhere beautiful.¡±


    ¡°That sounds nice.¡± She replies, smiling bright. ¡°I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll be travelling through all sorts of beautiful places.¡±


    ¡°What about you? What are you doing?¡± I ask, wondering what it is that a merchant plans to do with her last year.


    ¡°Me?¡± She asks, ¡°I¡¯m trying to save the world.¡±


    It seems I¡¯ve become acquainted with an idiot.

 Chapter 2 ~ Sunset

    ~Fate


    I shuffle around on the hard wooden bench, trying to find a more comfortable position.


    The old merchant I bought it from seemed rather sad to see it go, so I¡¯m sure it has plenty of old stories soaked into the wooden boards.


    Those stories do not make for a softer seat, however. I was sure I¡¯d be fine until the next town over, but every bump in the road get¡¯s me looking through the goods in the back trying to figure out what I can use as a cushion for my bruised butt.


    I¡¯m halfway tempted to ask Hope if I can sit on her lap, but then I¡¯d make her suffer double. It would hardly be a good way to thank he for saving me from that awful bandit.


    No, no. I¡¯ll bear with the pain, until the next town. It shouldn¡¯t be too much further.


    ¡°How¡¯d you get this shell?¡± I ask, looking over my shoulder at the black chitin that¡¯s laying atop all my other goods. It must¡¯ve been pried from something pretty large. I¡¯m sure someone would be interested in buying it, maybe to make a shield, or a sled?


    ¡°I killed the monster and cut that from it.¡± Hope replies


    She¡¯s a young woman, about my own age, but she certainly doesn¡¯t dress like it. Her clothes are suited more to the deserts than the mountains where we¡¯re headed, with a scarf still wrapped around her head to keep the desert sun and sands away.


    What skin I can see is heavily tanned. The hair that isn¡¯t wrapped up in her scarf is a dark purple, which is something I¡¯ve never seen before. Perhaps she has the blood of the fae running through her veins.


    ¡°You hunt the monsters in the desert?¡± I ask, watching her closely. Shadow is smart enough to keep us on the road, so I hardly even need to guide him. I hold the reigns more so for when he decides to start misbehaving.


    ¡°Yes.¡± She replies, seemingly uninterested in discussing the topic.


    She was quick to kill the bandit but seemed a little frightened when the violence was done. Maybe it¡¯s because she usually kills monsters rather than people.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t they dangerous? No one¡¯s made it back from the other side of the desert, have they?¡±


    ¡°The monsters make it difficult to cross.¡± She replies. ¡°They make sounds that make the sand move like water. If they catch you, you¡¯re going to die, but not quickly. They take you to their nests, and slowly dry out your body over weeks eating you little by little over many years.¡±


    I shiver at the thought, turning to the happy flowers around us for comfort.


    ¡°It¡¯s a good thing you¡¯re hunting them, then.¡± I say, but she just shakes her head and looks away from me.


    ¡°Not anymore.¡± She replies, gazing up at the mountain range ahead of us, while rubbing her fingers on the scarf around her neck.


    The wagon tilts and jumps as we hit a hole in the road, but the wheels keep rolling and the only damage is to my bruised butt.


    ¡°You¡¯re saving the world?¡± She quietly asks, looking between me and Shadow.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to try.¡± I say, looking into the distance and the white peaked mountains that get closer so very slowly. ¡°It¡¯s something worth doing, at least I think so.¡±


    ¡°And how will you stop the moons from crashing into each other?¡± She asks, ¡°Magic?¡±


    ¡°Maybe?¡± I say, shrugging. ¡°I¡¯ve been looking through the ruins of the first civilisation. They knew what was coming thousands of years ago, I think they were preparing for it.¡±


    ¡°The same civilisation that made everything from stacked rocks and couldn¡¯t even figure out how to make steel?¡± She asks, shaking her head at me. A sad little laugh comes from her lips as she looks away from me.


    ¡°Yeah, them.¡± I say. She doesn¡¯t think it¡¯s possible, but that¡¯s fine. No one really thinks they can save the world anymore, but that¡¯ll just make it a bigger surprise, right?


    ¡°So long as you¡¯re happy wasting your last year on it.¡± Hope says, shrugging. She seems like the sullen type of person, the sort that just rolls over and watches on as everything happens around them, waiting time away.


    ¡°I want to live.¡± I say, ¡°I don¡¯t want to give up, even if it¡¯s silly and hopeless. I¡¯d rather die, trying to live, than surrender to fate.¡±


    ¡°Fate. Isn¡¯t that your name?¡± She asks, her eyes shining in apparent amusement.


    ¡°Ironic, no? That¡¯s what my mum thinks anyway.¡± I say.


    ¡°Why aren¡¯t you with her then?¡± She asks, bravely asking the sort of question that any well socialised person would know to be tactless.


    ¡°I¡¯ve already said my goodbye.¡± I say, smiling as I recall the party we had. ¡°She¡¯s chosen to accept what¡¯s coming. I¡¯ll meet her again come next spring.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure.¡± Hope says, certainly imagining some awful inevitability rather than the hero¡¯s welcome that I¡¯d like to imagine.


    ¡°You¡¯re looking for somewhere beautiful?¡± I ask, smiling at her sullen expression. She¡¯s out here searching for the right place to witness the end, then *blam* the world keeps going. It¡¯ll be the greatest prank in all of history.


    ¡°What are you chuckling about?¡± She asks, turning her cold eyes towards me as she reaches around and grabs for her bags.


    ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t mean anything by it.¡± I quickly say, pulling at her arm to stop her from running away. ¡°I just thought it was cute.¡±


    ¡°Cute?¡± her face scrunches up. She mustn¡¯t get many compliments, and she doesn¡¯t seem to know how to reply.


    The wagon rolls on as we sit in silence, a silence which gradually becomes more comfortable the longer it lasts.


    Sunlight shines on the brightly coloured flowers, springing up on the sides of the road, waving happily and inviting us onwards. A warm breeze at our backs pushes us on, as a few birds chirp playfully as they play in the green grass.


    I pull out a waterskin for a drink, wiping the sweat from my forehead. It¡¯s making my hair stick to my face, and I¡¯m sure I look like a mess right now, though Hope doesn¡¯t seem to mind it.


    ¡°Do you want a drink?¡± I ask, offering her my waterskin.


    ¡°Sure.¡± She takes it from my hands and starts drinking, just to comedically sputter as she pushes it back to me. Somehow through her choaking she hasn¡¯t managed to waste a drop. ¡°What is this?!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s water.¡± I reply, wondering what¡¯s bothering her, ¡°It¡¯s flavoured with some lemon juice to make it more refreshing.¡±


    ¡°Refreshing? Are you sure it¡¯s not just pure lemon juice? It¡¯s sour enough for it. I¡¯ll drink my own water, thanks.¡± She says, pulling a waterskin from her own bag and drinking from it, careful not to spill a drop.


    ¡°It¡¯s an acquired taste, I suppose.¡± I reply, taking another sip before plugging it back up and gazing to the road ahead.


    ¡°Will we reach a town soon?¡± Hope asks, impatiently tapping her foot on the old wooden boards.


    ¡°We should arrive before nightfall.¡± I say, that¡¯s what the guy in the last town said at least. ¡°I¡¯ll be stopping there for a few days.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± Hope replies, shifting around on the hard bench beside me.


    ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


    The town at the base of the mountains has its houses built rather close together, though I can¡¯t fathom the reason why. Perhaps the founders of this town were simply more chummy with one another, or maybe they didn¡¯t like walking and decided to put everything really close together.


    The sloped roofs are covered in warmly coloured shingles, while the walls are stone, or clay brick. Around half the chimneys are spewing black smoke into the afternoon sky.


    We managed to arrive faster than I¡¯d been planning, which is always nice.


    I wave to a friendly couple chatting on the street corner and they wave back.


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Where¡¯s the inn in this town?¡± I call out.


    ¡°Just keep going, you won¡¯t miss it.¡±


    ¡°Thank you!¡± I reply, as Shadow pulls us along, unheeding of my conversation. I think he wants us to stop for the day so he can get his harness off.


    ¡°I¡¯ll get you some apples when we arrive.¡± I say, hoping to placate him.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± Hope sleepily replies, her eyes opening wide as she panics, realizing that I wasn¡¯t talking to her.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± I chuckle, ¡°I¡¯ll buy you some apples too. Dinner as well.¡±


    The inn has a little painted banner over the entrance, a large flopping fish, painted brown and orange. The words above read ¡®the drowning carp¡¯.


    The bright colours, the lively fish, and the funny name make for a strange comparison to the regal inn behind it.


    Large stone blocks have been carefully joined together to build the ground floor, while the two floors above are constructed from aged wood that looks to be at least a century old.


    It doesn¡¯t quite look like any sort of inn that I¡¯ve ever visited before.


    ¡°I love it.¡± I say, looking it over again. ¡°It¡¯s both quaint and regal. Like an old king sitting at the bar, ordering ale, shoulder to shoulder with peasants.¡±


    ¡°You have a strange way of describing things.¡± Hope says, in a quite voice.


    ¡°Stay here, I¡¯ll go talk to them.¡±


    ¡°Ah, wait, what am I supposed to do with him?¡± Hope asks waving at Shadow in a panic.


    ¡°Nothing?¡± I say, tilting my head. ¡°He¡¯s smart, he won¡¯t run off. He knows he won¡¯t get any apples if he misbehaves.¡±


    ¡°Ah¡­ right.¡± Hope replies.


    I hop down from the bench, stretching my legs as I approach the door to the drowned carp. Hope sits stiff and tall, as she notices that we¡¯re the centre of attention for the villagers in the street.


    ¡°Hi!¡± I shout poking my head in through the door to the inn, ¡°Do you have some room in your stable, I have a wagon and a horse.¡±


    ¡°Right, right. Luek, go help the lady.¡±


    ¡°Do I have to?¡± Comes the lazy reply.


    ¡°Yes, get going or you¡¯re not getting dinner tonight!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going, I¡¯m going.¡± A young man hops down the stairs two at a time, his mop of greasy blond hair covering half his face. The boy couldn¡¯t be more than seven or eight, he looks like he hasn¡¯t yet discovered puberty.


    ¡°A wagon and a horse?¡± He asks, following me out the door.


    ¡°Yep, yep.¡±


    ¡°A very nice horse.¡± He says, his eyes taking on a new shine as he gazes up at Shadow.


    ¡°He¡¯s a Friesian, but I¡¯ll let you in on a secret.¡± He leans in close, and I suppress a few chuckles. ¡°I don¡¯t actually know what that means.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take good care of him.¡± Luek says, ¡°You¡¯re staying a while?¡±


    ¡°A few days.¡± I reply, ¡°We¡¯re going to be moving north through the mountains.¡±


    ¡°The paths have melted, so it¡¯s a good time for it.¡± He says, ¡°Come on, the stables are just through here.¡±


    The young lad takes quite the interest in Shadow, as we take off his harness and get the wagon under cover. My shameless horse, of course, likes his ego stroked a little more than he likes getting his coat brushed.


    ¡°You¡¯ll let me brush him?¡±


    This poor lad is more than eager to give him both.


    ¡°If you¡¯d like.¡± I say before turning to Shadow and pointing at his face. ¡°Just make sure you behave yourself.¡±


    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am.¡± Luek says, hopping over to the horse brushes.


    ¡°Before you go. Where¡¯s the best food in town?¡± I ask, winking at Hope. She turns away, pulling her scarf up higher over her face.


    ¡°The tavern across the road.¡± Luek says with a shrug. ¡°Dad runs the inn, mum runs the tavern. It¡¯s the best food you¡¯ll find in town.¡±


    ¡°Hope you¡¯re ready to have lunch?¡± I ask, snickering at my own pun as I offer her a hand down.


    She hesitates a moment before accepting my hand and coming down. While turns back around to pull a bag out from her things, bringing it with her.


    ¡°It should be fine to leave everything here, at least while we eat.¡± I say. I do have a thick canvas cover in there for rainy days, but I¡¯m sure it¡¯ll be fine to leave it all in Luek¡¯s hands. There aren¡¯t many thieves in small towns like these.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡± Hope says, taking the smaller bag with her regardless. Maybe she¡¯s carrying something precious with her.


    ¡°I¡¯m getting hungry.¡± I say, ¡°Let¡¯s check out this tavern.¡±


    She doesn¡¯t reply, but her stomach does growl rather viciously.


    Skipping over the potholes and trenches in the road, we head over to the clay brick tavern. The chimney is pouring dark smoke, and the people inside are chatting nicely. They seem to be mostly locals, catching up for a drink and a nice meal.


    We get quite a few curious looks at us as we enter, but a bright smile is enough to push aside their poor manners.


    I take Hope¡¯s hand and pull her over to a free table, she stumbles awkwardly after me, trying to say something but mumbling too much to make sense. I pull out her seat and press her into it before she can run.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take care of you today. I owe you, remember. So settle down and enjoy yourself.¡± I say, rushing to the other side of the table to take my own seat.


    It¡¯s not padded, but the hard wood is angled slightly differently and doesn¡¯t hurt as bad as the bench on my wagon.


    Hope pulls the scarf down from her head as she shuffles around in her seat until she¡¯s comfortable. Her back is unusually straight like she¡¯s sitting at a noble¡¯s feast, and her hands are resting on her lap under the table.


    Seeing her without the scarf, she seems rather pretty. She has a cute, little nose and nervous eyes that shift from me, to the people around us, to the lady approaching our table.


    ¡°What are you here for?¡± The large set lady asks us, setting a hand on the table to get our attention.


    ¡°The best food in town.¡± I say, ¡°Or so I¡¯ve been told. We didn¡¯t come to the wrong tavern, I hope.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve come to the right place.¡± She says with a great big smile. ¡°I¡¯ve a pot of stew that¡¯s keeping warm, and a few rabbits roasting in the oven. I can warm up some bread, too.¡±


    ¡°A couple bowls of stew, bread, and a roast rabbit between us.¡± I say, ¡°Is that okay with you, Hope?¡±


    She nods firmly, still staring down at the tabletop.


    ¡°I¡¯ll bring the soup and bread by in a moment then. Drinks?¡±


    ¡°Mead?¡± I ask, hopefully.


    ¡°Only ale.¡± She replies with a sad shake of her head. ¡°Ran through the last of our mead last night. You might still find some spilled on the floor.¡±


    ¡°Ale sounds good.¡±


    ¡°None for me.¡± Hope says, looking up for a moment, before firmly resting her gaze on the tabletop.


    ¡°Right, I¡¯ll be a moment.¡± The lady says, rushing off.


    ¡°Not much of a people person?¡± I ask Hope, leaning over the table.


    ¡°Not much, no.¡± She replies. ¡°I don¡¯t have money.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m paying.¡± I say with a chuckle, as she nervously looks around.


    There¡¯s a nice, warm atmosphere in the tavern, partly owed to the smells of the kitchen washing through to the wider room. The slowly cooking rabbit meat is getting my stomach worked up.


    ¡°So, do you want to travel with me?¡± I ask, ¡°I could use the company, and if I run into any bandits, you can wave that sword around and scare them away.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± She replies. ¡°I never really planned to travel with anyone.¡±


    ¡°You were just going to wander around looking for somewhere pretty?¡± I ask, ¡°It¡¯s way easier if you ask a few locals, you know?¡±


    ¡°I guess.¡± She says, she hasn¡¯t really thought out her plans.


    ¡°If you travel with me, I could help find beautiful places for you. I¡¯m sure it¡¯ll be better for the both of us.¡± I say.


    She slowly looks up from the table and meets my eyes.


    ¡°Why are you so interested in this idea?¡± She asks, ¡°I¡¯m not¡­ I¡¯m no one.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a pretty, young woman who saved my life.¡± I reply, ¡°Or at least you saved me from a rather bothersome time. Besides, I¡¯d like some company for this trip.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t there anyone else?¡± She asks, mumbling slightly.


    ¡°Nope.¡± I reply, pretend sobbing. ¡°I¡¯m all on my own.¡±


    ¡°I guess¡­¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± I ask, ¡°You¡¯ll travel with me?¡±


    ¡°For now.¡± She replies, taking a deep sigh as if she¡¯s just made some huge decision.


    ¡°Here¡¯s your food, the rest¡¯ll be a few minutes more.¡± The tavern owner shouts, slopping the food on the table.


    ¡°Owner,¡± I stop her from leaving, ¡°Is there anywhere nearby that¡¯s particularly pretty, or beautiful?¡±


    ¡°Now that¡¯s a strange question.¡± She shrugs, ¡°I can think of one place. Up the mountain road a ways there¡¯s a lookout, it¡¯ll only take an hours walk to get there. It¡¯s where my husband proposed to me, the old bugger used to be so romantic¡­¡± She shakes her head.


    ¡°Be there at sunset, and the sight should be a fool¡¯s perfection.¡± She says, rushing away.


    ¡°You hear that?¡± I ask Hope, tasting the wonderful rabbit stew. The flavours are powerful, and the root vegetables are soft enough to fall apart in my mouth. The bread, while a bit hard, softens and soaks up the flavour of the soup.


    ¡°We should take a walk.¡± Hope quietly says, staring down into her meal.


    ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


    ¡°Is it much further?¡± I ask, taking long deep breaths.


    ¡°You¡¯re not very fit, are you?¡± Hope asks, completely unbothered by the exercise. I¡¯m already drowning in sweat, and I¡¯m not even carrying anything but my waterskin.


    The sloshing water in it is an awful temptation, but I¡¯ll want some water on the walk down, so I must be strong enough to push through this challenge.


    ¡°I don¡¯t walk much.¡± I admit, ¡°I talk, I don¡¯t walk.¡±


    ¡°As a travelling merchant you should be doing both.¡± She replies.


    ¡°I¡¯m a merchant, whose only just taken on the ¡®traveling¡¯ moniker.¡± I squeeze out, wiping aside the hair that¡¯s insisting on getting in my way.


    ¡°Should¡¯ve brought Shadow.¡± I moan.


    ¡°Is it really so bad?¡± She asks me, shuffling around the small bag and waterskins she¡¯s carrying with her.


    ¡°No, but complaining still makes it feel less bad.¡± I say, lifting my head and looking up at the mountains swiftly rising above us.


    There¡¯s still a ways to go.


    ¡°What¡¯s a fool¡¯s perfection?¡± Hope asks, looking up through the thickening forest around us. ¡°I¡¯ve heard the expression before but¡­¡±


    ¡°Huh, I though everyone knew about that.¡± I say, huffing and trying to pretend I¡¯m just fine. That¡¯s how it works isn¡¯t it, fake it ¡®till you make it. Then I can collapse when we get there.


    ¡°It¡¯s tied to an old story about the gods.¡± I say, ¡°To cut it short, when the jealous gods decided to prank Sanguine and Cerulean, splitting apart the lovers for eternity, they made the world forever imperfect.


    ¡°Until the day that the two lovers find one another, we¡¯ll be living in a world where perfection cannot exist. So when someone dies, we say that they were too close to perfection, for example.¡±


    ¡°So, a fool¡¯s perfection is¡­?¡±


    ¡°It can go two ways. Either you¡¯re a fool for thinking that it¡¯s something perfect, or a fool for claiming something as perfect and dooming it to be destroyed.¡±


    ¡°Huh¡­¡± Is all she says. What a strange girl¡­


    Up ahead the path we¡¯re climbing curves around, and the deep red glow of the sunset shines in through the trees. It has to be the lookout the lady at the tavern was talking about.


    ¡°Here we are, finally!¡± I shout, drinking some more water as a reward for making it this far.


    Hope steps ahead of me, her steps faster, and her expression hardening. Her curiosity of the trees and forest fade away as the sunset calls to her.


    ¡°Don¡¯t race ahead.¡± I say, chasing her steps. ¡°We should see it together!¡±


    She ignores me, outpacing me easily as I slow down.


    I push myself up the hill just a little further, and finally reach the small, flattened lookout. The grass here is soft, and a cool wind runs down from the mountains behind us.


    The sun sets over the distant desert, glowing deep red and painting the plains the same colour. The countless small hills form dark shadows on the landscape nearer to us, looking almost like waves on a red sea.


    ¡°Hope.¡± I call out, walking up to her as she stares out over the horizon, where the sun sets over a distant desert.


    She stands frozen, the red sea, slowly sinking before us, an enchanting sight, more to her than I. The edges of her hair not tied up get blown about by the wind. I step closer and look at her from the side.


    The red sea ripples in the water gathering in her eyes, tears not yet falling capturing the sunlight sea.


    ¡°It¡¯s beautiful.¡± I whisper without thought.


    ¡°It is.¡± She whispers back, as she weakly grips the bag in her hands, staring into the sinking sea. Her expression softens, and the tears slowly roll down her cheeks.


    Something stirs in my chest, as I look down at the sunset on the horizon, I can¡¯t help but think that it looks far more beautiful in her eyes.

 Chapter 3 ~ People and Places

    ~Hope


    Though the sun has long since risen, darkness still clings to the corners of the room, the weak light flows in from the cracks around the window and gaps in the wooden floor. There¡¯s light enough to see the stains and marks on the wood, made ages past, or perhaps just yesterday, it¡¯s impossible to know which.


    Fate lies beside me tossing about in her sleep, her arm draped over me as she drools on the bed at my shoulder. It¡¯s been a long time since I last slept with someone else in the room, and there¡¯s a warmth to it that the sun cannot replicate. It¡¯s that warmth that keeps me here, but it¡¯s also what makes me want to leave.


    It isn¡¯t worth the complaint, and it isn¡¯t worth taking my bags and sleeping outside of town, as is usual for me. She does offer a fine distraction from the itchy, bug-ridden bedding, at least.


    Not since childhood have I slept in a proper bed, and even then I was sharing it, which is why I was so easily able to accept this outcome. Unfortunately, only bitter memories stir as I compare this day to those I¡¯ve left long behind.


    Through a veil of her messed blonde hair, I see her relaxed expression, seeming a young woman completely different to what I¡¯ve seen of her during the day.


    She proved herself to me yesterday, not only buying a better lunch than I¡¯ve eaten in years, but she also brought me to a beautiful sight that I¡¯d never have found on my own. I¡¯m not overly fond of people, and talking, especially with strangers.


    Without her help, I¡¯ll be fumbling around in foreign lands searching for gems in a pigsty. I want somewhere beautiful to say my goodbyes.


    Instinctively, I reach for the bag by the side of my bed, running my hand over it.


    Fate twitches, pulling her face into my shoulder, hugging me in her sleep, and pulling me away from my heavy thoughts.


    She¡¯s warm in a way that the sun can¡¯t be. There¡¯s a living pressure to her touch, the affection of another person.


    I¡¯ve been in the desert for so long. Alone, but for the occasional words shared with a familiar merchant, one or two days a month.


    I hesitantly brush aside her mess of hair, settling into the bed and accepting this wasted time.


    A few quiet grumbles are all the warning I get before Fate grabs me tight and sinks her teeth into my shoulder. I smack at her head, but she continues gnawing on me until I use a little more force.


    ¡°Fate!¡± I call to her, smacking at her head as her eyes flicker open and she looks up at me in confusion. A few tears bead in her eyes.


    ¡°Gnah!¡± She makes a weird sound as she lifts her hands to protect her head. ¡°What? Why?¡±


    ¡°You were biting me.¡± I say, wiping her drool from my shoulder.


    ¡°Oh, sorry.¡± She says, rubbing her mouth clean, ¡°I was having a really great dream! I was flying around with dragons, and we were pulling Sanguine away from Cerulean. Then there was a feast, and...¡±


    ¡°What are you planning for the day?¡± I say interrupting her while getting my stuff together. There are things that I¡¯m not willing to trust to others, some things I won¡¯t let go of.


    ¡°Buy some stuff, sell some stuff. Learn about the roads.¡± She says listing things off on her fingers, ¡°Ask around about some pretty places.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you have a goal of your own?¡± I ask, ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you be rushing off in search of some magic to save the world?¡±


    ¡°I can take my time.¡± She drawls, ¡°The journey is more important than the end.¡±


    ¡°So, you already know that we have a sad ending ahead of us?¡± I ask, and she quietly glares at me. It¡¯s a puppyish glare, like I¡¯m holding a treat just out of reach.


    ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll leave you to your delusions.¡± I say, waving my hands in placation.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± She replies, ¡°Now, do you want some breakfast?¡±


    ¡°How rich are you, exactly?¡± I ask.


    ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


    Warm stew for breakfast is a luxury that I¡¯ve never known, thus I¡¯ve never before known the heaviness that comes from a big oily breakfast. The reheated stew weighs heavy on my stomach, as the flavour of it slowly sours in my mouth. No matter how much water I swish about in my mouth, the oily flavour doesn¡¯t fade at all.


    The last time I had a real breakfast was in my childhood, and I don¡¯t recall the meals being so heavy back then. A difference in what constitutes breakfast between different cultures, perhaps. Or just the difference between the food served in a tavern, and that served in a palace.


    ¡°So, what do you need, and what have you got?¡± Fate asks, standing across from the local merchant, looking through his gathered wares. What remains on the shelves are ancient and covered in cobwebs, sitting untouched for years, and likely to remain unbothered right up until the divine lovers finally embrace.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got all I need. You aren¡¯t the usual merchant who comes through, what happened to him? The old dog went and died, did he?¡±


    ¡°No, he sold me his cart. He decided that he wanted to spend his last days enjoying the riches of the city.¡± Fate says.


    ¡°Ah, the old dog¡¯s run off to the brothels, has he?¡±


    ¡°He didn¡¯t say anything about that...¡± Fate says looking down at her feet, her face reddening. I¡¯d expected a city girl like her to be used to this sort of talk.


    ¡°Well I got nothing to give ya.¡± The old man says reclining on his chair, ¡°You don¡¯t have anything I want.¡±


    ¡°How do you know?¡± Fate asks. ¡°Even if you don¡¯t like coins, I have plenty of things we could trade.¡±


    ¡°Ain¡¯t nothing an old man like me needs anymore, and I ain¡¯t going to give you something for nothing, now scram.¡± He says waving a walking stick at us. The half of the teeth he has left revealed through his sneer, they stand apart, yellowed and twisted as the old man himself.


    Fate looks a little sour but says a polite goodbye as she takes us away from his shop.


    Walking the streets, I look to see how she¡¯s doing, but she doesn¡¯t seem as let down as I¡¯d expect. This must be a common enough occurrence that she¡¯s grown used to it, with the end coming so soon people won¡¯t act the same as they have years before.


    There¡¯s nothing much more that these people need to prepare for. They don¡¯t need to prepare a dowry for their daughter¡¯s wedding, they don¡¯t need to expand their homes for a growing family, they needn¡¯t worry about age stealing their vitality. Come next spring and there¡¯ll be nothing left for us to worry over.


    ¡°What now?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Wonder around and talk to people.¡± Fate says, already locking eyes with a young couple walking along the street. ¡°Everyone is keen for a little change, or at least most do. People want to talk as much as they want a chance to trade their things, I¡¯m sure everything will be fine.¡±


    She engages in conversation with whomever she passes, and I awkwardly follow along since I have nowhere else to be. We wander the town, making small trades here and there with people who are often just happy for the conversation that comes with it. Some trade family treasures that they see no need to hold on to, others just trade small things that they don¡¯t use anymore. A bow, and a collection of arrows, a bolt of cloth that they¡¯ve no use for any longer.


    Small things, expensive things, strange things. The only big trade comes in the form of a few bags of grain from a farmer with far too much of it.


    Fate, meanwhile, trades with all sorts of flashy gold and jewels, it boggles my mind to see them in her bags. A bag full of riches that she hands out so lightly, traded to the peasants who would never otherwise have touched such riches.


    ¡°Where did you get all this?¡± I ask as I look into the bags she carries filled with shinnies of all strange sorts; I¡¯ve seen richer pieces, but never gathered together the same as this. A polished suit of armour has gone untraded thus far, wrapped in oiled cloth. She carefully packs away some spark powder that survived the spring celebrations, before turning to face me.


    ¡°I inherited quite a lot, and traded for some more.¡± She says. ¡°The city people are a bit different from these townsfolk. There¡¯s a certain fever taking over most of the cities, and things don¡¯t hold the same value as they did last year and the year before.


    ¡°Quite a few rich folks have breakdowns. They start throwing their money about in the streets before running off on some adventure.¡±


    ¡°Like what you¡¯re doing?¡± I ask, watching closely as she packs the gold away, treating it with little care.


    ¡°Eh, I guess.¡± She admits, pausing a moment before shaking her head. ¡°I¡¯m actually trying to save the world, though.¡±


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    ¡°Even though you¡¯re going to fail?¡± I ask, hopping up to sit on the side of the wagon. I earn a few splinters for my lack of care, and I just know I¡¯ll be pulling them out all day.


    ¡°Nope. I¡¯ll succeed. I¡¯ll somehow find a way.¡± She replies, a light smile rising on her lips. Her eyes glaze over for a moment, as she imagines the future to come, her smile falls away for a moment, before she shakes herself free from her own thoughts.


    A glimpse of the end.


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ I won¡¯t accept another ending. I can¡¯t even imagine it.¡±


    She¡¯s deluding herself, but I¡¯m in no place to say that she must accept the end to come. This is her last adventure, and I won¡¯t force her to see the world through my eyes.


    The simple truth is that there is no saving this world. For a thousand years people have sought some salvation, through magic and religion both, but there¡¯s never been a chance. She¡¯s chasing a ghost called hope, while knowing it¡¯s a lie.


    ¡°I think you said something about the old civilisation?¡± I ask.


    She nods eagerly as I return her to her happy dreams of a grand adventure.


    ¡°They knew what was coming. I found a stone plaque in one of their ruins talking about the ¡®final city¡¯, and something about the day the lovers embrace. I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll find something there to save us all.¡±


    ¡°The ¡®final city¡¯ sounds more to me like they were accepting the end rather than fighting it.¡± I say, but she quickly speaks over me talking about some of the things she¡¯s had excavated in the past.


    It sounds more and more like she was some merchant¡¯s daughter throwing about money for these archaeological digs. I think it¡¯s as likely as not that what she¡¯s been given are fakes made to keep her delusions alive.


    ¡°What now?¡± I ask changing the topic to something more casual. We¡¯ve had lunch, but she seems to have lost all of the passion she had when looking for customers.


    Her eyes turn to me, shining as she wets her lips, the corners of her mouth rising in a smile.


    ¡°We¡¯re finding somewhere beautiful.¡± She says. ¡°You¡¯re still looking, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    I nod, my throat closing tight. For the first time in forever, I almost forgot my purpose.


    ¡°Then let¡¯s go, I already have a guide ready and paid for.¡± She says, rushing me back inside the inn. ¡°Luek, are you here?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s out in the stable.¡± The innkeeper says, waving over towards the stables.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± Fate calls as she leads me around the side of the inn, easily tracking the boy down.


    ¡°You wanted me to show you around?¡± He asks, hopping closer and looking up to the both of us. His blonde mop of hair seems to have been used to clean the kitchen floors, if the dirt and oil staining it are any measure.


    ¡°All the beautiful places.¡± Fate says, with a certain pretend strictness. ¡°Your bonus depends upon how beautiful the scenes are.¡±


    ¡°Not to worry, ma¡¯am. I know all the best places around town.¡± He leans forwards and continues in a whisper, with a cheeky smile. ¡°I also know a few places outside of town, I¡¯m not allowed to go, but I do anyway.¡±


    ¡°Sounds good.¡± Fate whispers back, ¡°Lead the way, my good man!¡±


    ¡°Are you sure a child is really the best choice for this?¡± I ask, looking at the dirty clothes that the boy is wearing as he heads us out into the streets.


    ¡°Sure,¡± Fate smiles. ¡°Children still enjoy their adventures; adults settle down and get serious about everything. Who would you trust to show you around?¡±


    ¡°Is this an admittance of your own childish nature?¡± I ask, as she neatens her swirling hair. She really should rearrange her hair style to better suit travel, the amount of time she wasted this morning getting herself ready was just ridiculous.


    ¡°Perhaps.¡± She replies, her voice light and bubbly.


    The streets we walk are clean enough, though there¡¯s still dirt and muck gathering in the gutters. The buildings around us are stained, coated in the same stench as the villagers themselves.


    ¡°This is the oldest building in town¡± Luek says waving at an old stone mansion that¡¯s degraded as its aged. The stone has been washed rather well and the place is clearly still in use, but it¡¯s also apparent that it¡¯s owned and maintained by peasants who can¡¯t afford to maintain the dignity of the property.


    ¡°It¡¯s magnificent.¡± Fate says, and I can¡¯t be sure if it¡¯s the peasant-girl in her speaking, or if she¡¯s saying it for the boy¡¯s sake.


    ¡°It¡¯s old stone.¡± I say.


    The place is far from a palace or a castle, more like what a regional lord would build to impress a bunch of middling merchants. The stone has cracked over the years and been filled with the same cheap mortar as used around the rest of town. Other repairs aren¡¯t quite as fair, and steal away what little elegance the building once had.


    ¡°Luek!¡± shouts a young girl racing down the stairs as she shouts the name of our young aide.


    ¡°Sara, I didn¡¯t think you could come out today?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t!¡± She says, grumbling to her friend. ¡°Mum says that I have to stay with pop and look after him.¡±


    ¡°What about tomorrow? You should come over and check out Shadow, he¡¯s a great big horse, you have to see him.¡±


    ¡°Tomorrow.¡± She says, looking between the two of us. ¡°Who are they?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re just some customers.¡± Luek says, waving his hand at us, ¡°I¡¯m showing them all the cool places around here.¡±


    ¡°Not all the cool places, right?¡± She asks, looking suddenly nervous.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m keeping it secret.¡± He says. ¡°That was what we promised.¡±


    ¡°We shouldn¡¯t break promises.¡±


    The boy nods, smiling happily under his mop of hair. A distant shout from the stone house steals our attention, and the girl jumps.


    ¡°Sorry, I have to go.¡± She says, looking rather sourly back up to the house. ¡°Tomorrow?¡±


    ¡°Tomorrow.¡± The boy promises as the girl disappears into the large house.


    ¡°What¡¯s this about?¡± Fate asks, ¡°I can keep a secret too.¡±


    ¡°No adults allowed. That was the promise.¡± The boy says, turning her down.


    ¡°Aww,¡± Fate responds with a rather downcast expression, and the boy falters for a second before recovering.


    ¡°I know places just as good, though.¡± He stutters as he rushes on, trying to placate her.


    ¡°Okay, then.¡± She lowers her voice in feigned upset, all for the sake of playing with the rather dull boy.


    I¡¯d like to believe that I¡¯d not fall for the same, but it¡¯s been some time since I¡¯ve been around people for anything more than a quick trade. I can barely recall getting lessons on the topic, just to keep me from being so dull as this child.


    The boy is rather quick in his step, and his recovery, showing us all the spots in town worthy of note, though there are precious few in a town like this.


    The church is, as always, a highlight. A few people are gathered in the open, staring up into the sky where Cerulean currently shines. There¡¯s a dour air hanging over the group, undermining any majesty of the stone star-maps carved into plaques and platforms all over.


    ¡°So, who was the girl?¡± Fate asks, as Luek leads us out of town. The dirt path we walk isn¡¯t as well frequented as the main roads and I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if only him and his friends come out this way.


    ¡°She¡¯s just a friend.¡± He says, ¡°She¡¯s always stuck at home taking care of her pops, so we don¡¯t get to play as often as we used to.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s sad. You should get the chance to play together, especially now that it¡¯s spring.¡± Fate says, seeming genuine in that conclusion.


    ¡°Yeah, but we¡¯re just kids.¡± Luek says.


    ¡°And?¡± Fate says, with a tone that makes it clear she¡¯s about to say something stupid. ¡°It¡¯s exactly because you¡¯re kids that you should be able to go on an adventure! Steal away the princess and go out to play!¡±


    The boy freezes in his steps, he turns back to Fate, stupidity shining bright in his young impressionable eyes. The very same sparkle that fills the eyes of the fool before he says something to the King and loses his head.


    ¡°Fate, I¡¯m not sure this is¡­¡± I start, but she smiles back at me, shushing me as she presses on.


    ¡°That¡¯s what she was asking for, you know. When she came out to meet us, she wanted you to take her hand and pull her away to play.¡± Fate says, ¡°So make sure you don¡¯t let her down tomorrow, okay?¡±


    ¡°Okay!¡± The boy replies, holding up a fist to his chest as he grins happily.


    ¡°If you¡¯re done causing trouble, we were going somewhere?¡± I say, looking about the forest. The trees around us have gotten rather thick, rather quickly, and already we¡¯ve lost sight of the town behind us.


    ¡°There¡¯s a stream through here, and if we follow it down¡­¡± Luek says, jumping ahead as his voice trails off.


    We pick up speed a little, though Fate¡¯s complaints keep us from going too far too fast.


    The quiet gurgling of a stream tells me that the boy is no liar, though the slight chill in the air does crawl up my neck. A few bright mushrooms are scattered about here and there, as small creatures play in the grasses and bushes. A gust of wind carries the powerfully sweet scent of spring, though I see no flowers here.


    The stream, likely fed by the melting snows off the mountain tops, runs cool and clear. I stop a moment for a taste and find that it¡¯s just as fresh as it looks.


    The boy doesn¡¯t stop here, however, he continues to follow the stream down from the mountain. Before long we stumble upon a miniature waterfall feeding a small pond, crystal clear and filled with a few small colourful fish.


    A few birds sing in the trees above us, their songs joining the gurgling of the stream and the splashing of the waterfall. A few flowering trees and bushes bring colour to the area.


    ¡°If only we packed a picnic.¡± Fate says as she sniffs at a flower, pulling away a moment later with a choking laugh. ¡°These are stinky flowers.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t sniff them.¡± The boy says, looking at her as if she were a moron. ¡°They¡¯re used for medicine, and they¡¯re really awful.¡±


    ¡°So, what do you think?¡± Fate asks me, still making amusing retching sounds as she tries to rid herself of the pollen stuck in her nose.


    ¡°It¡¯s nice here, but¡­¡± I shake my head. This isn¡¯t what I¡¯m looking for.


    ¡°What sort of place are you after?¡± Fate asks.


    ¡°I¡¯ll know it when I see it.¡± I reply. It has to be perfect.


    ¡°We can still enjoy this place.¡± Fate says with a cheerful smile.


    ¡°Sure.¡± I say, staring down at the fish in the little pond.


    ¡°I know other places too.¡± The boy says, looking between us, as his dirty hair bounces with every eager word.


    After a short break, we follow the boy to the next place. We spend the whole afternoon following him through the forest, visiting small ponds, climbing up hills with views of the mountains above or the plains below, and observing the largest trees of the forest.


    The forest is a lively place, though it¡¯s filled with more rot than I¡¯d expected. The scent of flowers and spring is enough to cover it only around half the time, and while some of the birdsong is charming, there are some birds out there screaming the most discordant tunes. It¡¯s almost enough to inspire me to learn how to use a bow just to shut them up for good.


    ¡°I have something I want to do for tomorrow.¡± The boy says, as he leads us back to the village. The sun is setting and while it¡¯s still light, the forest is sure to get dark and cold rather shortly.


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you be heading back home?¡± I say the sensible thing, while watching the boy head back into the forest.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine! I¡¯m only going to be a moment.¡± The boy shouts quickly disappearing from view as he bounces through the trees and bounds into the forest.


    ¡°He¡¯ll be alright.¡± Fate says. ¡°What¡¯s the worst that could happen? We¡¯ve been in the forest all afternoon and haven¡¯t seen anything dangerous.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, it just doesn¡¯t seem safe to me.¡± I say. Already there¡¯s no sign of him, and I¡¯m not sure his voice would reach us if he called out. The forest consumes all sound, and in the growing darkness the sharp branches almost seem as teeth, and the forest itself appears as some great maw eating up those who dare to enter.


    ¡°What¡¯s he going to do if he heads back to the inn with us? More work? Let him play.¡± Fate says, pulling me by the hand back towards the tavern for dinner, her growling stomach proving that she hasn¡¯t often skipped meals.


    Dinner is pleasant and filling, and we get to bed rather early. A shimmer of movement in the corner of my eyes, pulls my attention back to the bag that I¡¯m keeping resting against the side of the bed.


    I carefully reach down and run my hand over it, feeling the hard shapes within.


    ¡°Not much longer now.¡± I say, feeling sleep draw closer, even as Fate tosses around in the bed by my side. ¡°I¡¯m working hard, and I haven¡¯t given up. To the very end.¡±


    ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


    A loud conversation from the room below stirs my attention as I roll out of bed. Fate, noticing my movement, wakes up alongside me, this time without trying to take a bite from me. Together we head down the stairs and find the young girl from yesterday talking with the innkeeper.


    ¡°Luek isn¡¯t here?¡± She asks, her face twisted with worry, ¡°We promised to play together today.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Fate asks, wandering ahead of me as I feel my heart crawling up my throat.


    ¡°My boy didn¡¯t come home last night. The girl here says you were with him yesterday, do you know something?¡± There¡¯s an edge to his voice, and the shadows under his eyes show that he hasn¡¯t slept through the night.


    ¡°Do you know where he is?¡± The girl asks, looking between us with tearful eyes.

 Chapter 4 ~ Searching

    ~Fate


    ¡°Luek is missing?¡± I ask, looking at the father, his eyes dark and his face twisted with worry. I¡¯m sure he¡¯s spent the night searching in a panic, hoping to find his son hiding in the stables or some such thing.


    ¡°Where did you last see him?¡± The man asks me, much more terse with me than he was yesterday, but understandably so.


    ¡°The forest. He raced back into the forest saying that there was something he had to do.¡± I say, thinking back to that moment. The forest looked so warm and inviting that I was tempted to follow Luek back in. Whatever fanciful thing had caught his mind would¡¯ve been fun, no doubt.


    It seems that I probably should¡¯ve followed him.


    ¡°The forest?¡± The father spits at the floor shaking his head. ¡°I¡¯ve told him time and again not to go into the forest, why won¡¯t he listen to me, damn it! The forest is dangerous¡­


    ¡°I¡¯ll round up the others, we¡¯ll go out and look for the boy.¡± He shakes his head, spitting yet again. ¡°When we find him, he¡¯d better be limping, or I¡¯m going to wallop him till he is.¡±


    The old innkeeper leaves his inn unkept without a second glance as he rushes out into the village. A few other guests show their faces upon hearing the commotion, but most return to their own business.


    ¡°Did Luek tell you where he was going?¡± Sara asks, twisting her little hat in her hands. She looks like the sweetest little thing as she bites her lip in worry. I can almost understand why people would still want to have a child, even now.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± I say.


    I¡¯m not about to tell her that he was preparing something for her, which I¡¯m almost sure he was. The boy shines a little brighter whenever he talks about his crush. Who knows what the two would grow to be like if given the chance¡­


    No, it¡¯ll be fine.


    Everything will be fine, in the end. I¡¯ll save everyone, and we¡¯ll all have happy endings, broken from the curse of imperfection. That¡¯s how the religious people put it, at least.


    ¡°Do you think he¡¯s okay?¡± Sara asks, looking up at me with her bright round eyes.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go search, too.¡± Hope says running down the stairs with her gear gathered on her back. ¡°Every second we waste is a second he could be out there dying.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± The girl asks, shocked at how easily Hope can say something so awful.


    Hope meets the girl¡¯s eyes and nods firmly.


    ¡°Yes. There is a good chance that he¡¯s dying right now.¡± Hope says without hesitation and no good sense. I lean down and wrap Sara in my arms before she can start crying.


    ¡°It¡¯ll be fine. We¡¯ll find him, and we¡¯ll save him.¡± I say.


    ¡°I¡¯ll come with you!¡± Sara shouts, her voice cracking with panic. ¡°He¡¯s fine. He can¡¯t¡­ I¡¯ll find him. You don¡¯t know the forest like I do.¡±


    ¡°You lead the way, then.¡± Hope says, checking over her short sword, and the rest of her gear. She carries more waterskins than is reasonable, a blanket, and all sorts of other things. She¡¯s also carrying that same leather bag as always, I want to try taking a peek inside, but she¡¯s always watching over it.


    ¡°I have everything we¡¯ll need.¡± She says, catching my glance at her bags. She nods happily as she finishes checking her gear, before pressing the young girl to lead us out into the street.


    The villagers are chatting loudly as they walk down the street, out towards the edge of town where the forest grows thick and tall. The whispered conversations surround us, Luek and Sara the centre of all the talk.


    ¡°If they couldn¡¯t look after the kid-¡±


    ¡°-wandering the forest. It¡¯s not surprising that-¡±


    ¡°Kid¡¯s wandering the forest, what is-¡±


    I shouldn¡¯t be surprised, but the snippets of conversation that I catch in passing aren¡¯t as hopeful, or as nice as I¡¯d want to hear. They still do gather together to help, as the innkeeper calls for their aid.


    ¡°You¡¯re joining the search?¡± Asks the lovely woman in charge of the tavern, Luek¡¯s mother. She doesn¡¯t seem nearly as worried as the boy¡¯s father, a small, sad smile on her lips, as if she¡¯s already given up hope.


    ¡°We¡¯ll find him.¡± I say, with as much enthusiasm as I can squeeze out of my small voice. It still comes out a little squeaky.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad to have you here then.¡± She replies, ¡°Do be careful in the forest, there are dangerous things lurking, and not just in the shadows.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Alright, gather up!¡± The innkeeper shouts before she can reply, with a little wave she heads off towards another group of townswomen.


    ¡°Why isn¡¯t she sad?¡± Sara asks, watching the missing boy¡¯s mother leave.


    ¡°How do you know that she¡¯s not?¡± I ask. ¡°Everyone handles sadness differently. Let¡¯s just focus on finding Luek, okay?¡±


    ¡°I understand.¡± Sara says, turning her eyes back to the forest.


    ¡°We¡¯re searching through the forest for my little boy.¡± The innkeeper shouts over everyone. ¡°You should all know what to do, look around the roots of trees and around fallen trunks, anywhere he might¡¯ve hidden to survive the cold.¡±


    His shouts easily overwhelm the conversations that die out as he takes charge of the situation, and the response from the villagers is quite enthusiastic, for the most part. A few others, here and there, are more quiet and resigned, like the boys mother.


    If the world is ending anyway, what does it really matter?


    I¡¯m sure that¡¯s what they¡¯re thinking, the thought came to me too, but I refuse to accept it.


    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    ¡°Sara? What are you doing here?¡± A woman approaches us looking at our little guide. ¡°Head back home this minute.¡±


    ¡°Mum, Luek is missing, I¡¯m going to help find him.¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s too dangerous. You¡¯ll head back home right this second.¡± Sara¡¯s mum says, looking up to the two of us.


    ¡°I apologise for whatever stupid thing she¡¯s trying to get you two into.¡± She says, trying to grab Sara¡¯s hand while the little girl backs away. ¡°Sara!¡±


    ¡°Mum!¡± The girl shouts so loud she gives her mother pause.


    ¡°I¡¯m going into the forest, and I¡¯m going to find Luek!¡± She shouts, turning and running towards the forest. Before she can escape, Hope dashes ahead and grabs her by the waist, pulling her off the ground.


    ¡°We¡¯ll go together.¡± Hope says, turning around and bringing Sara face to face with her mother. ¡°With the whole village searching, I¡¯m sure it¡¯ll be safe.¡±


    ¡°But-¡± Sara¡¯s mother starts, but is stopped short.


    ¡°We have a better chance of finding the boy if we look together.¡± Hope says to Sara, looking down at the girl in her arms. ¡°It¡¯s not easy to find someone lost, but it¡¯s very easy to become lost yourself.¡±


    ¡°Luek.¡± Sara whines, tears building up in her eyes as Hope lets her down to the ground.


    ¡°We¡¯ll find him.¡± Hope promises, her voice firm as she speaks with confidence. ¡°If it takes all year, we¡¯ll find him.¡±


    Sara sniffles, rubbing at her eyes, as she looks up at Hope. Unable to squeeze out any words, she nods her head up and down quickly.


    ¡°It¡¯s not safe.¡± Sara¡¯s mum insists.


    ¡°Then come along with her and keep her safe.¡± Hope says, offering the older woman no other choice.


    ¡°Fine.¡± Sara¡¯s mum says, backing down as she takes her daughter¡¯s hand.


    ¡°We¡¯ll be staying in a line,¡± The innkeeper says, looking over the crowd and staring at us in particular. ¡°Shout loud enough that the others beside can hear you, and make sure that you don¡¯t lose the rest of the search teams.


    ¡°Now, let¡¯s go find my boy.¡± The villagers erupt in passionate cheers as they follow the innkeeper out towards the forest. We move together too, Sara and her mum staying with us.


    Sara has dried her eyes and is looking into the forest with her chin raised high. Her mother looks down at her daughter, her brows knit with worry.


    We find our place in the formation, the innkeeper directs us to stand near the centre, near to his group, and we walk into the forest shouting for the missing boy to hear us.


    ¡°Luek!¡±


    Dozens of voices call the boys name, sounding almost like a new bird call, added to the countless already filling the forest. Hope surprises me as she raises her voice, louder than I¡¯ve ever heard her speak before. She cries out the boy¡¯s name, her eyes burning with a desperate passion as she glares into the surrounding forest as if trying to burn away the trees that impede her sight.


    Sara calls too, but her voice is quieter and she takes longer breaks between.


    ¡°Hope, I didn¡¯t know that you cared that much about Luek.¡± I say, seeing the motivation energizing her every footstep. It¡¯s clear that she wants to race ahead, just the same as Sara, but maturity and understanding keeps her walking in pace with the group.


    ¡°I don¡¯t.¡± She replies simply and honestly. ¡°But I can¡¯t ignore this.¡±


    ¡°Have you experienced something similar before?¡± I ask. She was quicker to react than I was and by a good measure, too.


    ¡°I have.¡± She replies, freezing for a moment before she shakes her head and smiles, though the look in her eyes isn¡¯t happy at all. I can¡¯t find it in me to ask anything more.


    We continue through the forest, and I expect the boy to appear any second now. We¡¯ll find the boy healthy and fine, or perhaps suffering a mild cold from staying the night out.


    I¡¯m sure that¡¯s all it¡¯ll be.


    All morning the search drags on and as time passes the voices around us grow more weary, but we keep moving. The thick forest seems unending and unchanging, no matter how far we walk. The air cool, and pleasant, though the exercise is still enough to make me sweat.


    ¡°Do you guys hear the others yelling?¡± I ask, looking about the thick forest, as Hope and Sara quiet down to listen.


    The birds sing, some better than others, but who am I to judge. The trees rustle in the wind high above us, and a few insects chirp noisily, but none of this is loud enough to cover the voices that should be calling out Luek¡¯s name. Yet, I don¡¯t hear a single voice.


    ¡°How long since we last heard them?¡± Hope asks, her hand resting on her sword as she looks around the forest.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± I reply.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t long ago.¡± Sara¡¯s mum says, holding her daughter close.


    ¡°Can anybody hear us?!¡± Hope shouts into the forest, her voice quickly dying as the thick air consumes it.


    ¡°We should go back.¡± Sara¡¯s mum suggests.


    ¡°But Luek¡­¡± Her daughter complains, trying to break from her mother¡¯s grasp.


    ¡°Do you know the way back?¡± I ask, looking through the forest. I lost my way only shortly after we entered. The voices around us were all that was keeping me from getting lost.


    ¡°We¡¯re not like you city folk, the way back is¡­¡± her voice falls off as she looks at the forest around us. She spins about on the spot, trying and failing to find her bearings.


    ¡°This is wrong¡­¡± She finally says, breathing fast before shaking her head. ¡°I don¡¯t¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡± Hope says, interrupting her. ¡°If we go downhill, we¡¯ll get clear of the forest.¡±


    Sara¡¯s mum eagerly nods her head, while Sara pouts.


    ¡°We¡¯ll keep searching.¡± Hope says, ¡°But we can¡¯t risk getting lost ourselves, or who will find him?¡±


    Her words are enough to calm Sara as we begin our trek downhill. The forest here, on the side of the mountain, rests on a gentle slope covered in uneven hills, when we stumble upon a small stream we follow it down.


    There are flickers of movement in the corner of my sight, but when I turn to see what¡¯s there, whatever it was is gone already. A faint glow and a shimmer, tempts my eyes again to a bush or a flower just outside of clear sight.


    The forest whispers to us, but it¡¯s more than just the leaves rustling in the wind, words nearly recognisable whispered in childish voices. I turn my head to hear it more clearly, but they quiet again the same instant.


    ¡°My head is playing tricks on me.¡± I say, shaking my head, trying to focus on the forest around us. The sweet scent of flowers is almost overwhelming, to the point where it feels as if someone is shoving an invisible bouquet into my face.


    Faint mocking laughter carries on the small breeze, something alien, yet familiar; distant, yet so very close. A faint bell rings, and the voices quiet, leaving only the leaves to rustle in the wind.


    Though the voices are gone, I can still feel something watching us. An audience that¡¯s both jeering us and cheering us at once as if there¡¯s no difference between the two things.


    ¡°Hope, I think something strange is-.¡±


    ¡°Blood.¡± Hope says, her voice a whisper, though it carries loud through the forest as if we stand upon a grand stage. My own words and worries fade as I look towards the mark that she points out.


    A bloodstain on wood in the shape of a handprint, the size of a child¡¯s hand.


    ¡°Luek.¡± Sara whispers, her eyes tearing up as she touches at the bloody mark. Her mother holds her tight staring wordlessly at the red mark and trail of the same, that we¡¯re soon to follow.


    ¡°This way.¡± Hope says, fearlessly striding along the path set out for us.


    ¡°Sara.¡± I lift my voice to get her attention. ¡°What dangerous things live in this forest?¡±


    ¡°Wildcats and bears.¡± She replies, ¡°They¡¯re big and mean, and could eat me up in a single bite. That¡¯s what my mum says, but I¡¯ve never seen any around¡­ but Luek¡­¡±


    ¡°They are around¡­¡± Her mother says, ¡°There are all sorts of dangerous things in these woods. I¡¯ve said it before that you shouldn¡¯t come out here.¡±


    I look at the dirt at our feet, but there are no footprints that I can see but our own.


    ¡°This wasn¡¯t an animal.¡± Hope says, leading us further on. In a small clearing, where the sun shines through the trees, a copper sword drenched in blood sits with its blade pressed into the dirt. It stands there like a set piece at a play, but the dense smell of the blood that stains it proves that it¡¯s more than that.


    There¡¯s too much blood.


    ¡°One of the bandits had a sword like this.¡± Hope says, trembling slightly as she steps nearer. Her hand reaches for the copper blade, stopping only a few inches short.


    ¡°Where did Luek go?¡± Sara asks in a panic, looking around the bloody field for the next step in the trail of the murderer.


    Hopes attention soon turns the same direction, her eyes are piercing, but she¡¯s more familiar with the desert than the forest. It was a miracle that she even saw the blood trail.


    I look down at the copper sword, poking at its blade and watching it tip over. There is so much blood covering the ground that it soaks into my shoes as I crouch here. This entire scene feels so fake.


    ¡°Over there!¡± Sara shouts, pointing out through the trees, and breaking from her mother¡¯s arms. She races into the forest and her shocked mother takes a moment to give chase.


    ¡°Ah, little girl! Wait for us!¡± Hope shouts, running after Sara.


    ¡°Sara! Her name is Sara.¡± I say, as Hope runs off ahead of me. Thankfully, Sara isn¡¯t very fast, and I catch up fast.

 Chapter 5 ~ Bandit

    ~Hope¡¯s view


    That boy has to be out here somewhere. Maybe the blood wasn¡¯t his, there wasn¡¯t any corpses in the area, not even a bone left behind. Who or what died there, I can¡¯t be reasonably sure, but the boy could still be alive.


    All that matters is that we find him, and soon.


    If it was a bandit¡ªand no beast would use a sword, so it must be¡ªthe boy must¡¯ve upset him in some way, and been hurt? No, why would the bandit leave behind the sword, and take the boy¡¯s body?


    I don¡¯t know.


    I don¡¯t know anything.


    We need to find the boy; we need to save him.


    The weight of the bag on my back helps to ground me as I follow the vague trail. Something that the little girl¡ªSara? I think Fate called her¡ªsomehow sees more clearly than any of the rest of us.


    After our initial sprint, our pace has slowed considerably, both Sara and Fate are unsuited to running about for any long distance. Even moving downhill for the most part, they¡¯re pushing a fast walk and still breathing heavy for the effort.


    ¡°We should go back to the village.¡± Sara¡¯s mother insists, coming to a stop and shaking her head. I know that the image of the spilt blood and the copper blade still sticks in her mind the same as it does for the rest of us. Her pale face admits to that without her needing to say a word.


    ¡°But Luek.¡± Sara cries out as her mother holds her close, frightened that she¡¯ll run away again.


    ¡°Sara¡­ there was too much blood. Luek, has reached a moment of perfection. He¡¯s gone now.¡± Her mother says, slowly running a hand over her daughter¡¯s head. ¡°You can play again next year.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t know that he¡¯s gone!¡± The little girl cries out, but her mother only shakes her head sadly.


    ¡°If he¡¯s still alive, I¡¯m sure these lovely travellers can search for him.¡± Her mother says. ¡°I won¡¯t allow you to put yourself in any more danger. A search with the rest of the village was bad enough, but this¡­ No.¡±


    ¡°But mum!¡±


    ¡°No buts.¡± Her mother insists, shaking her head and holding her daughter closer.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure we have a choice.¡± I say, as the girl once again points out the way onwards, seeing something that I can¡¯t. ¡°We don¡¯t know how to get out of here, and we¡¯re moving downhill, the same as we were planning. Unless you want to try wandering the forest?¡±


    ¡°Wandering our way back, has to be safer than this.¡± Her mother says, and if there are bandits out here, then I can¡¯t completely disagree with her assessment.


    ¡°Just to stumble onto the bandits on our way back?¡± I ask.


    ¡°It¡¯s better that than hunt down the bandits, as we are.¡± the mother says, ¡°I¡¯m not putting my daughter at risk for this.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll protect you.¡± I say, turning away and feeling my conviction slipping away. ¡°We have to try. The boy could still be alive, the longer we take to find him¡­¡±


    ¡°Mum.¡± The girl pleads, turning to face her mother from up close. ¡°It¡¯s only a year mum. If the evil bandits catch us, all we lose is a year. Can¡¯t we try to find Luek?¡±


    ¡°Sara¡­¡± The mother holds her daughter close.


    ¡°Please mum.¡± The girl begs, and the mother¡¯s expression darkens, but finally she nods her head.


    ¡°Fine, just¡­  we¡¯ll follow this trail out of the forest, but we¡¯ll be careful.¡± The mother says, her expression twisted. She pulls a dagger from inside her skirt, looking at it¡¯s blade closely as she bites her bottom lip and nods her head.


    The young girl continues to point our way onwards through the forest. I peer into every shadow, looking for an ambush, or for some sign of someone else passing through ahead of us. I see nothing, not even a footprint in the soft earth.


    ¡°You said earlier that he¡¯d reached perfection.¡± Fate says, turning to Sara¡¯s mother. ¡°Do you follow the Seraph¡¯s teachings?¡±


    ¡°I do.¡± She replies, looking back towards Fate with a cautious glare.


    ¡°I¡¯m not too religious.¡± Fate says, waving her hands in placation. ¡°It¡¯s just a rare faith where I come from.¡±


    ¡°The Seraph¡¯s teachings?¡± I ask. It¡¯s actually a little nice having this chance to discuss these sorts of things, though I still don¡¯t really like dealing with people.


    ¡°When Sanguine and Cerulean meet.¡± She says, ¡°The eternal curse will be undone, and perfection will once more be realized. When the two lovers embrace, we¡¯ll be our perfect selves, and we¡¯ll once again know the company of those who reached perfection before us.


    ¡°Those who are dead, still live in the hearts of the gods above us. We¡¯ll be reunited with all those we¡¯ve lost.¡± She smiles warmly at the thought, perhaps a particular person fills her mind.


    Her dreams are as delusional as Fate¡¯s, and I know better than to keep such faith.


    There are no gods, and we won¡¯t be saved.


    We won¡¯t live on in the hearts of the divine gods, there will be no salvation through mad quest as Fate so desires to be true.


    We¡¯ll die, but that isn¡¯t all so bad really.


    There will be no more burdens, no more pain. An end to all suffering. There is much to be desired in that emptiness that awaits us. The nothingness of non-existence.


    The thought alone almost makes me feel at peace, but there is one last thing that I must do before the end. A promise that I must keep.


    ¡°Hope.¡± Fate says my name and tugs at my arm, ¡°Perhaps we¡¯d do well to pause a moment and consider the situation we¡¯re in. That, and your expression is truly awful at the moment, I ask that you take a moment to calm yourself.¡±


    ¡°If my face looks so awful, then stare at the ground instead. We¡¯re chasing murderous bandits, what¡¯s there to question?¡± I reply, but her grip on me is rather insistent. She doesn¡¯t let go until I come to a stop.


    ¡°We¡¯re not pursuing bandits.¡± Sara¡¯s mother insists. ¡°We¡¯re finding a way out of this forest.¡±


    ¡°That as well.¡± I concede grudgingly. It would be rather unfortunate if we didn¡¯t find the bandits on the route out, however. I¡¯ve spent more than enough time chasing after ghosts in the desert, I¡¯d like for business here to at least be finished quickly so I can get back to my own quest.


    ¡°Setting all that aside, I have my doubts that these are even bandits at all.¡± Fate says walking around tapping at her lips as she thinks. ¡°What sort of bandit leaves a perfectly good sword behind?¡±


    ¡°One who is rushed and panicked.¡± I suggest.


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°There was no sign of a rushed escape. I saw no trail in the dirt, and the blood almost seemed untouched but for the marks leading us to the scene of the supposed ¡®murder¡¯.¡±


    ¡°Supposed?¡± I ask in disbelief. ¡°With all that blood, what else do you think it could have been? If anyone spilt that much blood trying to fake their own murder it would end up a suicide instead.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps, but that would leave a body behind as well, no?¡± She asks.


    ¡°If it¡¯s not bandits, then what trail are we even following?¡± I ask, glancing down at the little girl who has been pointing us a path through the forest.


    ¡°That¡¯s a good point.¡± Fate says, kneeling down to face the child. ¡°Where have you been taking us?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s something this way.¡± She insists, pointing further ahead. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ you can¡¯t see it?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t see what you can, but a city kid like me gets lost the moment I leave the road behind.¡± She says, ¡°If there is a track of some sort, it is worth us following. I¡¯m simply not convinced that it¡¯s bandits.¡±


    ¡°What else could it be? You think a mountain cat has learned to use a sword?¡± I ask, shaking my head and breathing a long sigh.


    ¡°It could be. It sounds almost as likely as a bandit, running into the forest and leaving behind that scene for us to walk into.¡± She taps at her lips, looking up at the canopy. ¡°There¡¯s something more going on, but we¡¯ll have to follow the trail to figure out what.¡±


    ¡°Then let¡¯s get moving again.¡± I say, rubbing at my temple and following the path pointed out to me.


    ¡°You¡¯re too worked up.¡± Hope says, stepping to my side and looping her arm through mine. ¡°Solving problems gets exponentially more difficult when you fail to take the time to think them through.¡±


    ¡°It gets harder, when you have to work with one hand.¡± I say as I try to free my arm, but her grip is like iron. After a few moments more of struggle she gives up and lets me go.


    ¡°I know you¡¯re bothered by this, but you mustn¡¯t let yourself be caught in a trap.¡± Fate says, looking about the forest as if trying to find some scoundrel hiding in the bushes. There¡¯s nothing there, however.


    She backs away, and we continue along, following the guidance of the girl most familiar with our environment. Her mother is building up a sweat, though more from stress than the effort or the heat, I assume.


    ¡°Sara,¡± Fate asks, gazing up towards the sky, though the canopy blocks her view of it, she doesn¡¯t seem to mind.


    ¡°Yes?¡± the girl replies.


    ¡°What do you want to do when you grow up?¡± She asks, still staring upwards.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°What do you want to do? Do you want to travel somewhere? Do something? Start a family of your own?¡± She asks.


    ¡°We¡¯ll all be in the gods embrace by that time.¡± Sara¡¯s mum replies.


    ¡°But I¡¯m sure the gods will let us do things, won¡¯t they?¡± Fate says, ¡°I want to travel. I want to meet new people and talk and celebrate the passing seasons.¡±


    The girl looks between Fate and her mother before answering.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± She says simply. ¡°I want to play with Luek.¡±


    ¡°A good answer.¡± Fate replies with a smile, turning away from the distant skies. ¡°A very good answer. What about you Hope?¡±


    ¡°Sleep.¡± I reply.


    ¡°You want to spend more time in sweet dreams?¡± She asks.


    ¡°I don¡¯t dream.¡± I reply. ¡°I fall asleep, black out, and wake up again in the morning.¡±


    ¡°You have to dream. Everyone dreams.¡± Fate says, ¡°Maybe you just forget it easier than others.¡±


    ¡°What does the difference matter?¡± I ask, stumbling over a tall root.


    ¡°If you want to sleep more, then you must have happy dreams.¡± Fate concludes, and we fall into silence again. Fate fiddles with her dress, her breath getting heavier for all the effort of walking through the humid forest. It¡¯s a good thing that the air is cool, else this would be even more difficult for her.


    The birds and insects are still at it, competing with one another to see who can best pierce my ears, and stab my mind with their incessant screaming.


    ¡°What do we do if we do find bandits?¡± Fate asks, glancing down at my sword with a frown.


    ¡°I¡¯ll fight them.¡± I say simply. ¡°What else is there to do?¡±


    Her expression sours, and she looks at the dirt beneath our feet, and the footsteps that we¡¯re leaving behind. In a fit of energy, that she¡¯s summoned from some dark depth within, she steps ahead of me and starts walking backwards. She doesn¡¯t make it two steps without nearly falling, but she recovers and continues like that for a few moments more.


    She brushes her blonde hair out of her face, and I glance the sad smile behind.


    ¡°What is it?¡± I ask, ¡°You weren¡¯t so bothered about it before. Killing bandits isn¡¯t really anything bad.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not the bandits.¡± She says, ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ It¡¯s sad that we don¡¯t have any better options. If I was better with a sword, maybe¡­ No, I¡¯m awful with weapons, but perhaps I can talk them down instead.¡±


    ¡°That worked so very well the last time¡­ It¡¯s fine.¡± I say, ¡°Just look after yourself, and I¡¯ll take care of things. What is it, you don¡¯t trust me?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not it at all.¡± She replies, hopping a step ahead and looking away from me. ¡°You don¡¯t like killing.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°I mean, it¡¯s absolutely a good thing.¡± She says, turning back towards me and flashing a smile, ¡°I wouldn¡¯t want to travel with someone who does enjoy killing people. It¡¯s just that¡­ never mind. I¡¯m being silly again.¡±


    No matter how long I peer at her shining gold hair, I can¡¯t begin to guess at what it is she¡¯s thinking.


    ¡°You are.¡± I confirm her suspicions.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t have to agree with me.¡± She pouts. ¡°What I mean to say when I call myself silly is to say that I shouldn¡¯t bother trying to make you understand. While I wouldn¡¯t call you stupid, it¡¯s clear already that you don¡¯t always put thought into your actions. I suppose that such a kind heart precludes too much thinking.¡±


    ¡°Or maybe too much thinking has shrivelled your heart.¡± I reply. ¡°Seriously, after what we¡¯ve seen this conversation¡­?¡±


    ¡°Is a good distraction, no?¡± Fate replies with a smile. ¡°To calm you down and distract you from your own overbearing passion?¡±


    I must admit, the conversation has calmed me down enough that I can more clearly recognise the strangeness of this forest, and the strange quest that we¡¯re on.


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we be quiet?¡± Asks Sara¡¯s mother in a whisper. She looks about the forest, her eyes wide with fear, as she clutches her daughter¡¯s hand.


    ¡°Probably.¡± I agree. I¡¯ve never hunted bandits before, but it does seem a good rule to follow.


    ¡°That way.¡± Sara insists, pointing ahead of us.


    I catch a faint wisp of smoke and slow down, drawing my sword and waving the others to be quiet. I¡¯m not used to the forest, and I¡¯m sure that my footsteps aren¡¯t nearly so silent as they could be.


    Slowly and carefully, I approach the fire that is crackling through the trees. It flickers as it sways back and forth, waving me onwards, a strangely light tune fills the air. It¡¯s almost playful, though the tune falls apart here and there, the musician playing is clearly lacking the skill to play properly.


    A single man sits by the campfire, and while I don¡¯t recognise him, he¡¯s dressed much the same as the bandits were. Filthy rags, and a leather jacket that¡¯s lived for far longer than the man himself and wears many scars to show it.


    There are no spaces set aside for others, no seats, bedrolls, or tents. The small fire looks barely fit for the one man sitting by it.


    Sword drawn; I approach the small fire from the side where the bandit should see me coming.


    The bandit¡¯s pan pipes clatter as he drops them, nearly flipping backwards over the wooden stump he¡¯s using as a seat, as he backs away from me.


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s you!¡± He shouts, sighing in relief. ¡°If you¡¯ve come to finish the job, I¡¯d ask that you didn¡¯t. I¡¯ve given up a life of banditry and taken on the life of a bard! Or I will, when I can actually hold a tune with these damn pipes. They¡¯re broken, I swear.¡±


    I pause, looking at the man. While understandably nervous, he doesn¡¯t seem the least bit guilty. I can¡¯t see or smell a hint of blood on him, either.


    ¡°I¡¯m Jacob, by the by. Did you want to share the campfire, I don¡¯t really have much with me, as you¡¯ve already seen, I wasn¡¯t much of a bandit. Even dropped my weapon when I was running away.¡±


    ¡°You dropped your weapon?¡± I ask, looking him in the eye.


    He swallows, my gaze apparently enough to intimidate him. Oh, and my sword, I forgot I had that out.


    ¡°I did. If I kept hold of it, I could¡¯ve sold it for a better instrument. If you¡¯ve picked it up, I won¡¯t ask for it back, of course. A joke of a bandit I might¡¯ve been, but not to that degree.¡±


    ¡°Was it a copper sword?¡± I ask, taking a step closer.


    ¡°Why yes, yes it was.¡± He replies easily, ¡°It wasn¡¯t much of a weapon, but I did take good care of it. Should shine quite nice, and the grip should have a nice fine cloth wound about it, don¡¯t mind the reddish colour, the blood is all mine. Learning to fight from a bandit was not the smartest idea I¡¯ve ever had, I was lucky that it wasn¡¯t my last.¡±


    ¡°The blood was all yours?¡± I ask, ¡°If you¡¯d bled that much, I don¡¯t think you¡¯d be sitting here talking with me.¡±


    ¡°Pardon?¡± He asks, apparently confused.


    ¡°The copper sword. We¡­ I found it in a puddle of blood, up in the forest. Right where a boy went missing.¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­ that¡¯s¡­¡± He breathes out a long sigh, picking up his instrument as he slowly taps his foot. ¡°It was my sword?¡±


    ¡°If you didn¡¯t lie about what it looks like.¡± I say.


    ¡°Then I¡¯ve truly done a terrible thing in dropping it.¡± He says, staring into the flames. ¡°Did you find the killer? Or the boy, though I suppose from how you¡¯re talking¡­¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the killer, aren¡¯t you?¡± I ask, trying to sound confident, though I already know that he¡¯s probably not the killer.


    ¡°I¡¯m not.¡± He replies lightly, ¡°Though I won¡¯t begrudge you for not believing it. I suppose I still wear some of the blame, since it¡¯s my sword that was used in the crime.¡±


    He lifts the pan pipes to his lips and runs through the notes, trying to start up a sad song, but failing rather pathetically.


    ¡°I believe him.¡± Fate says, stumbling through a bush to join us. The mother and child follow soon after her, seeing that I¡¯m the only one here with a weapon, I suppose it seems safe enough.


    ¡°What happened to Luek?¡± Sara asks, looking at everyone standing around the fire.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure we can figure it out.¡± Fate says, her voice rising to a high pitch as she desperately looks around for a solution that¡¯s not appearing. ¡°It¡¯s like one of those stories you read about.¡±


    ¡°What stories?¡±


    ¡°Murder¡­ mysteries.¡± Her smile drops as she realizes what it is she¡¯s saying. ¡°I¡¯m sure he¡¯s fine.¡±

 Chapter 6 ~ Mystery

    ~Fate


    The fire crackles between us, the occasional popping coming from the wood within, as if it were laughing at us. We¡¯ve all found something to sit upon or lean against, as we think and consider the mystery set out for us. The bandit turned bard, sits casually on his little stump as he searches for a song with his makeshift pan pipes. The tune is sombre, and the broken notes born of his inexperience only add to the anxious ambience.


    The sun is still high and shining through the thinned canopy of the forest, if we travel a little further, I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll be free of trees entirely, and we can send Sara and her mother back home. I¡¯m not sure that I¡¯m wanting to spend months here looking for Luek, but I¡¯m willing to stay for another a week and try to help.


    Hope shares her water with us, more prepared for the long trek than the rest of us combined. Considering how she frequently traverses the desert, I¡¯m not entirely surprised that she¡¯s brought so much with her. Though, I¡¯d thought that she¡¯d be the sort to pause and think things through rather than charging ahead in a fit of passion, as she¡¯s been doing.


    It¡¯s charming in a way, but I do feel that I need to reign her in a little before we end up getting hurt.


    ¡°We should discuss what we saw, and what could explain it.¡± I suggest, thinking back to the bloody scene. It all seemed too perfectly aesthetic, perfect for a grand stage, but rather unusual to find in real life.


    ¡°No, we should leave.¡± Sara¡¯s mother says, waving a hand down the slope.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t hurt to take a short break.¡± I say, wiping some of the sweat from my brow before taking to the difficult task of taming my hair. I was not prepared for this sort of exercise. ¡°It also doesn¡¯t hurt to talk about it while we¡¯re resting.¡±


    She grumbles and leers between us as she clutches her child close.


    ¡°There was too much blood.¡± I say to start the conversation. ¡°I¡¯m not that experienced with things like this.¡±


    ¡°Kid killing? I¡¯d hope not.¡± Hope interjects.


    ¡°So, am I right or am I wrong about the blood?¡±


    ¡°If the boy was bled to the last drop¡­¡± Hope says, flinching and shaking her head vigorously before looking into the flames and continuing. ¡°You¡¯re right. There was too much blood, especially since there were no corpses nearby to explain it.¡±


    ¡°So then, what would explain that puddle of blood? Where could it have come from? Surely it didn¡¯t just rain from the sky, so who was injured so badly, and yet escaped?¡± I ask, hoping that the others can think of something.


    ¡°A person or a beast.¡± The bard says, ¡°I¡¯ve never known a tree to bleed anything but sap, and I don¡¯t think that any of you ladies could be convinced that one is the other. So, a man or a beast was bled by my copper sword, but no body remains by the scene of the crime?¡±


    ¡°Not even disturbed dirt.¡± I say, ¡°It was almost as if the blood was simply raining down on that one spot on the earth. Except for the hand print and trail that led us there, of course.¡±


    ¡°So, the person or beast was already dead, before being strung up to bleed out?¡± Hope asks, shuddering at the thought. Her shuddering expressions are rather cute and distract me well from those same terrible thoughts.


    Is she the sort to be frightened hearing horror stories? I think I have a book of them back in my wagon.


    ¡°What about the copper sword?¡± Hope asks, ¡°You dropped it back down by the road where you were ambushing merchants. Perhaps another of your group returned to take it?¡±


    ¡°Maybe¡­¡± The bard says, shaking his head. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be so confident in that answer. We were a bunch of cowards held together by that fool of a leader, most of them wanted to leave but were frightened of what he¡¯d do to them.¡±


    ¡°Then why be bandits in the first place?¡± I ask, laughing at the sad tragedy of the story he spins.


    ¡°There¡¯s a certain appeal to the life of a bandit, at least in the songs and stories.¡± The bard says. ¡°I admit that it¡¯s what drew me in. I thought we¡¯d be running about, stealing from evil merchants, and living rich off the profits.¡±


    He kicks at the ground, spraying a little dirt into the fire. The flames lick back towards him as if offended, and he jumps back from the fire while swearing.


    ¡°In the beginning, I was picking up the coins thrown by a few merchants who had the goodwill to play along with me. It was more the life of a beggar than a bandit, but it was still better than what it was like when Thag and his group found me.¡±


    ¡°Enough of the story.¡± Hope interrupts. ¡°Do you think one of them could¡¯ve done it?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± The bard says, his foot tapping away in aggravation. ¡°No, with Thag gone they couldn¡¯t, and I¡¯m sure that they wouldn¡¯t even if they could. They, like me, are idiots and cowards more than bloodthirsty killers.¡±


    ¡°Then how did the sword get to the forest?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Could Luek have brought it here?¡± Sara asks, peeking up from her mother¡¯s grasp.


    ¡°He¡¯d have to race down from the forest to the road and back again in a single night.¡± I say. ¡°No, it wasn¡¯t Luek who brought the sword up here.¡±


    ¡°It was someone else, then.¡± Hope says, with a shrug. ¡°Someone brought the sword up into the forest, where they killed something or someone. Luek come across the scene and left a bloody handprint on the tree.¡±


    ¡°Could the handprint have been from someone else?¡± I ask.


    ¡°There aren¡¯t any other children missing.¡± Sara¡¯s mother says. ¡°The blood was fresh. It had to be from him.¡±


    ¡°Should we go back up to the bloody sword? Maybe there was some clue that we left behind.¡±


    ¡°How will we find our way?¡± I ask, looking over to Sara. ¡°Unless you could you lead us back there?¡±


    Sara hesitantly looks around the forest before shaking her head.


    ¡°Sara,¡± Hope says, after floundering for a few moments trying to remember her name. ¡°How did you lead us here?¡±


    The little girl snaps her mouth closed and looks around the forest, staring at a few flowers in particular.


    ¡°Sara?¡± her mother looks down at her.


    ¡°I can¡¯t it¡¯s a secret. I promised to keep it a secret.¡± She cries out.


    ¡°It could help save Luek¡¯s life.¡± I say kneeling down to be at a height with her. ¡°Is there nothing you can say that might help us?¡±


    ¡°I promised.¡± Sara says, looking down at her feet as she bites her tongue. I¡¯m not going to get the answer out of her like this.


    ¡°A sword that shouldn¡¯t be here, a bloody puddle, that¡¯s come from nowhere, and a missing boy.¡± I mumble trying to think of something that ties all of this together.


    Sara¡¯s mother practically chokes, pulling Sara closer as she sneers and whispers a few choice curses. She glares viciously into the forest around us, waving her small dagger around as if it were some sort of magical shield.


    ¡°What is it?¡± I ask. All I can see is the forest. Bright flowers as pleasant as ever, though smelling a little too sweet. The birds and insects sing passionately from all around, but there¡¯s not a thing here that should alarm her.


    Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    ¡°Fool of a daughter.¡± Sara¡¯s mother swears. ¡°You made some sort of promise with the fae?¡±


    ¡°The fae?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve warned you about them! You shouldn¡¯t ever talk to them, let alone make promises! What did you promise them?¡± She shakes her head violently. ¡°No, don¡¯t speak it. You promised to keep quiet, and you shouldn¡¯t ever break that promise.¡±


    ¡°I keep my promises!¡± Sara insists.


    ¡°How did you conclude that this was the work of fairies?¡± I ask, relaxing a little now that I know she hasn¡¯t spotted a bear, or something equally as vicious.


    ¡°A copper sword, not iron. They¡¯d never have touched it if it was iron. They take children, though it¡¯s been generations since the last, and they love their tricks. Like how we were separated from the other villagers in the search, and we were led here while suspicious that this bandit might be the killer.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you listen to me, Sara? You can¡¯t promise the fae anything! They could steal you away, taking you so far that the gods can¡¯t even reach you.¡±


    ¡°But what about the blood...?¡± I ask. I don¡¯t know much about the fae, beyond their propensity for magic.


    ¡°A trick of some sort. The fae don¡¯t kill like that. If they have Luek, there¡¯s nothing we can do, we should hurry back to town and save my daughter before they come for her, too.¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t give up like this.¡± Hope says, standing tall as she reaches for the sword at her hip. ¡°If they don¡¯t like iron¡­¡±


    ¡°No. Iron only wards them off, wielding it as a weapon will only invite their tricks. There¡¯s nothing we can do for the poor boy.¡± Sara¡¯s mother insists, ¡°He¡¯s not here in this forest anymore, they¡¯ve taken him away. Stolen his very soul.¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t be sure of that.¡± Hope says, stomping on the dirt as she looks about for these invisible kidnappers.


    ¡°They wouldn¡¯t do anything mean to him.¡± Sara says, speaking up in favour of the magical beings.


    ¡°They wouldn¡¯t do it to be mean!¡± Her mother hisses in reply. ¡°They¡¯d do it for the same reason that the wolf hunts, and the bear slumbers over winter. It is their nature.¡±


    ¡°Maybe we can ask them to give him back?¡± I suggest, looking about the forest but hearing none of the whispers that were following me before. I can¡¯t imagine that they wouldn¡¯t be watching after sending us on this wild chase.


    ¡°Are you stupid?¡± Sara¡¯s mother asks me, her eyes wide in disgust and horror as if I¡¯ve just pissed in her grandmother¡¯s urn. ¡°Never ask the fae a favour, and never make a deal.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re not bad people, mum.¡±


    ¡°They took your friend, then tried to convince us that he¡¯s dead, and get this... bard, killed.¡±


    ¡°They were just playing. Luek is friends with them, they wouldn¡¯t hurt him.¡± Sara insists.


    ¡°The fae don¡¯t make friends with humans.¡± Sara¡¯s mother says. ¡°They see you as a plaything, and they¡¯ll hurt you when they get bored of being nice.¡±


    ¡°So, what? We leave the boy to his fate?¡± Hope asks, her hand on her sword.


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing else that we can do!¡± Sara¡¯s mother insists.


    ¡°I could try something.¡± The bard says. ¡°The fae like music, don¡¯t they?¡±


    ¡°Not your music.¡± Hope says, ¡°Unless you intend for your music to do them such harm that they surrender Luek to us!¡±


    ¡°Hope.¡± I call her name and step a little closer. ¡°Getting angry isn¡¯t helping us.¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Sara¡¯s mother says. ¡°We need to leave!¡±


    ¡°Mum!¡± Sara shouts.


    ¡°No, Sara. We¡¯re leaving, I won¡¯t risk losing you forever to those vermin!¡±


    ¡°Mum!¡± She shouts again, pointing at our little fire.


    When I see it, I have to blink a few times, and rub my eyes clean. Even after that, it hasn¡¯t disappeared. Hidden in plain sight. I swear I was staring right at if for the last few minutes and still didn¡¯t notice it.


    A little humanoid figure sits in the fire, glowing the same colour as the flames as it stares up at us, smiling. Bright wings, like those of a butterfly come out from the beings back, not even flapping as the fairy hovers over the ground dressed in flames.


    The curious creature, breaks into chiming laughter, pointing at us while it rolls around on the air, rising slightly over the fire.


    ¡°Is there one here? Where is it?¡± Sara¡¯s mother asks, wielding her iron dagger. The fairy just laughs louder at her antics.


    ¡°It¡¯s in the fire.¡± Sara says. Hope and the bard have the same empty expression as Sara¡¯s mother, searching the flames and completely overlooking the creature hovering over them.


    ¡°What do you want?!¡± Sara¡¯s mum yells at the fire, her eyes glowing with the reflections of the flames. Angered and ready to fight, even though she advised us against the same.


    ¡°Mean old lady.¡± The fairy says, pointing at the woman.


    ¡°It¡¯s not nice to say things like that.¡± I say to the fairy, turning its attention to me.


    ¡°Oh, you can see me?¡± The fairy asks. ¡°You¡¯re pretty big for a child.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not a child. I¡¯m 22 years old, this year.¡± I say, standing up taller and looking down at the little creature.


    ¡°Only a stupid child tries to prove that they¡¯re not a stupid child.¡± The fairy says, laughing at me.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± Sara¡¯s mother insists, still glaring and waving her little dagger around.


    ¡°I want love, and candy!¡± The fairy says, floating around the fires and looking between us. ¡°Oh, and whatever is in that bag!¡±


    The little fairy floats over towards Hope and the bag that she carries around with her everywhere, not the one with all her gear, but the smaller one that she never lets out of her sight.


    ¡°I¡¯ll give you back the boy, if I can have this!¡± The fairy declares pointing at the bag and looking up at Hope, who can¡¯t see the little creature.


    Before I can explain what¡¯s going on, there¡¯s a small flash of light, and the fairy squeals, tumbling through the air back towards the fire.


    ¡°Deals off, I don¡¯t want it anymore!¡±


    ¡°You have Luek?¡± Sara asks. ¡°Why did you take him?¡±


    ¡°He said he wanted to play!¡± The fairy replies, ¡°So we¡¯re all playing together. You should come too, leave this stinking world behind.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t talk to it.¡± Sara¡¯s mother insists, gripping her daughter tighter still. Her fingers are white as bone around Sara¡¯s shoulder, clutching tight enough that I¡¯m sure she¡¯s hurting her daughter.


    ¡°I want Luek!¡± Sara insists.


    ¡°We can give Luek back to you if you promise to do something for us!¡± The fairy offers.


    ¡°I¡­¡± She hesitates¡­ looking up at her mother than back to the fairy. She balls her hands into fists and shouts. ¡°I promise!¡±


    Her mother tries to smother her voice, but moves a moment too slow.


    ¡°Sara!¡± Her mother says, swearing so violently that I swear she¡¯s speaking another language. ¡°I warned you!¡±


    ¡°You always say that I need to stay at home, that I need to take care of pops, and all those other things. Why can¡¯t you just let me play with Luek!¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t about that!¡± Her mother shouts. ¡°If you break a promise with a fairy, they¡¯ll hurt you or take you away! What did you promise them?!¡±


    ¡°I said I¡¯d do something for them, and they¡¯ll give Luek back.¡± She says, turning to the little fairy. ¡°That¡¯s what I promised?¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes!¡± the fairy cries before zipping out into the forest, back up the hill this time. ¡°Now follow me!¡±


    ¡°Mum we have to go this way.¡± Sara says, pulling at her worried mother.


    ¡°Sara¡­¡± The mother grips her knife a little tighter as she looks down at her daughter, after a moment, she lets out a long sigh and shakes her head. ¡°No more promises, okay? I don¡¯t want to lose you.¡±


    ¡°I just want Luek back.¡± Sara says.


    Feeling more like part of the audience in this whole affair, we follow after them. The forest is lively enough around us to nearly distract me from how my legs are starting to burn.


    ¡°That was all rather strange.¡± The bard says with a cheerful smile. ¡°To think I¡¯d join a quest so soon, and such an important one at that.¡±


    ¡°Why are you following us?¡± Hope asks.


    ¡°Because he¡¯s helping.¡± I reply, looking at the joyful bard.


    ¡°I am, or I will be, at least.¡± The bard says, looking up at Hope and smiling widely. ¡°You have quite the fair hair, young miss.¡±


    ¡°I do.¡± Hope replies, touching at her hair and accepting the compliment as easily as she breathes. The bard pauses for only a moment before pushing onwards.


    ¡°Do you perchance have a lover, a sweetheart, to share these days with?¡± he asks, playing a few notes.


    ¡°The rest of us are right here, you know? This isn¡¯t really the time¡­¡± I interrupt him, but he doesn¡¯t seem to care.


    ¡°Are you claiming this beautiful flower as yours?¡± He asks, lifting his pan pipes and playing a few discordant notes.


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I¡¯m saying.¡± I reply with a long-suffering sigh, ¡°I¡¯m saying, let¡¯s focus on the fairy and the missing boy.¡±


    ¡°Ah, but every moment is near the last, and it seems we¡¯re to be walking a while longer. Surely, it¡¯s not wrong to embrace these moments, and not simply let them waste away? So, young lady, would you grace me an answer?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine alone.¡± Hope replies, moving a hand protectively over her bags, as she steps a little further from the bandit that¡¯s making a rather sad attempt at her heart.


    ¡°Fine alone, is finer with company, no?¡± he asks.


    ¡°Then why are you alone?¡± I ask.


    ¡°You wound my tender heart.¡± The bard moans. ¡°I will admit that my poor choices have made it challenging to find a lover to make me a pair.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure your hygiene wasn¡¯t the problem.¡± Hope asks, glaring down at him.


    ¡°Your tongue is vicious.¡± The bard says, ¡°If only you weren¡¯t speaking truth. A stinky, cowardly bandit, doesn¡¯t suit to the fantasies of young maidens I¡¯m afraid.¡±


    ¡°Well, good thing you¡¯re a bard.¡± I reply, ¡°Now learn to play your instrument and go bother someone else.¡±


    ¡°I shall.¡± The bard replies. ¡°But would you mind saying? Was I at least a little charming?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Hope replies, not sparing him a glance.


    ¡°The average city girl might find you charming, if you tried the same on them.¡± I offer him as much not as praise, ¡°Their standards have lowered the past year.¡±


    ¡°Then after this quest, it is to the city I¡¯ll go!¡± He cheers, and I can only shake my head at his antics. I¡¯m a little glad that Hope isn¡¯t the sort to dally around with men like him, I don¡¯t want to lose her company the moment she¡¯s approached by a halfway charming troubadour.


    Following after the little sparkling creature, which bursts ahead in a sudden flash before pausing to wave us onwards, we prepare ourselves to face whatever strange task the creature has set out for us. Sara tries to run ahead, but her mother¡¯s fingers dig into her daughter¡¯s shoulder, keeping her close.


    Hope and the bard look ahead, but their eyes can¡¯t seem to focus on the little fae that leads us. Perhaps another of their magic tricks, or maybe it¡¯s just that Sara and I are special.


    The air thickens the further we walk, and soon enough the excitable fairy waves us through into a small clearing, introducing us to its family.


    Here, dozens of flickering little humanoids dance and play, giggling and whispering as they look up at us. Some sit atop red crowned mushrooms that form a circle in the middle of the field, others play by the flowers, sniffing at them before wobbling away. A pair of them swing on low vines, having a playful sword fight as they move back and forth, their wings swinging them wide enough that one almost runs into us.


    ¡°Welcome fools, to the final party of the fae!¡± The fairy says, sipping the dew from the golden petals of a flower before cheering, joined soon by the others.

 Chapter 7 ~ Dealing with the Fae

    ~Hope


    Golden sunlight shines in through the canopy above, but it can¡¯t penetrate the darkness that lingers by the roots of the trees and in the shade of the bushes surrounding. Instead, the darkness is made a few shades deeper by the introduction of light.


    A toppled tree rots over the far side of the small clearing, covered in fungi more colourful than the flowers spread out over the sunlit patch of earth. These spots of colour remind me of seeing the effects of a plague on a man, the bloody reds and sallow yellows discolouring his skin.


    Red capped mushrooms, sprouting spots of white, form a wide circle in the centre of the light. Almost as if someone planted them to sprout that way, but can mushrooms even be planted? They don¡¯t even have seeds, I don¡¯t think.


    Even assuming that someone could raise mushrooms to grow wherever they willed it, why would they bother to create such a perfectly imperfect circle out in the middle of the forest? The only person likely to stumble upon it out here, would be some hunter accidentally trampling it while pursuing a particularly juicy venison steak that¡¯s not yet to know it¡¯s true form.


    A pair of wild vines hang from the branches above, reaching nearly to the ground, and they¡¯d be rather unremarkable in every which way, if they weren¡¯t spinning about in tandem with no apparent cause or purpose. There is no breeze and last I knew plants don¡¯t move on their own strength to such a degree.


    I smartly retreat when one of the whips swings out and nearly catches me. Who knows, perhaps these twisted creatures called the fae have found some giant carnivorous plant, and these are but the limbs reaching out to grab its next meal.


    From everywhere and from nowhere at all, the whispers tickle my ears. It¡¯s not something I can say with confidence that I hear something whispering and laughing, it could still be the insects and birds. If it weren¡¯t for Fate speaking to the air, I¡¯d think the sounds, while unnerving, nothing unnatural.


    No matter how deep I gaze into the shadows, there is nothing there to see. To think that beings capable of such magics reside so close to a village. I¡¯m not sure there¡¯s anything for us to do to resist these creatures if they truly won¡¯t give the boy back.


    What should we do?


    At the moment, our only hope is that this awkward merchant might somehow bargain the child¡¯s safe return. I¡¯d think her chances were much better trying to beg that awful, dead bandit to give up his ways, dress up in pink, and sit about for a tea party.


    ¡°What was it you wanted us to do?¡± Fate asks, seeing or perhaps feigning to see, the invisible creature that¡¯s led us through the forest to this place.


    I¡¯d ask if this is some form of trap, but that point is almost assured, and only a professional fool, with bells on their hat and all, would expect an honest answer from a trickster.


    ¡°We are here to help Sara.¡± She declares, gesticulating widely as if speaking to a child, or at least someone with the mind of a child. Her attempts are clearly well intended, but madness would explain her passionate speech the better.


    If it weren¡¯t for all the strange moments up until now, I¡¯d be doubting her very sanity.


    ¡°We want to save Luek!¡± She shouts, her eyes following something hovering in the air.


    Distant mocking laughter haunts the forest, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.


    ¡°We are, too!¡± She yells but the laughter doesn¡¯t stop.


    ~Fate


    ¡°Build us a garden! All the best and brightest and most colourful flowers in this forest gathered here for us!¡± The little fairy demands waving his arms about as he flutters here and there unable to stay in the same place more than a heartbeat, like a human child fed too much sugar.


    ¡°Where do you want this grand garden to be planted?¡± I ask, watching the playful fairy race about, enjoying spring about as well as any humans I¡¯ve come across.


    Instead of ale and mead they drink the dew from the flowers, and they dance in the air above the forest floor, where we would dance drunken in the streets. Though unlike the street parties that I¡¯ve seen, there¡¯s no lewd proclivities here on display.


    They all seem as innocent as children, imitating the play of the adults that they¡¯ve seen. Not one of them is masking their emotions or pretending maturity. They play openly, and when frustrated they chase and rant, and shout, though it seems to fade out quick as they return to their play.


    No wonder the children are so drawn to them.


    ¡°This garden is to be planted in the centre of our circle.¡±


    ¡°Your circle?¡± I ask, looking over at the ring of mushrooms. One of the other fairies takes a long dive from on high, falling with great speed into the circle of mushrooms then disappearing in a bright flash, followed by a lingering, sparkling shimmer.


    This is what it must be like to see the fabric of the world so casually toyed with.


    Magic.


    I¡¯ve seen the tricks and performances but never has it been quite the same as this.


    ¡°You haven¡¯t heard of fairy rings?¡± The fairy asks.


    ¡°I¡¯m haven¡¯t exactly been bargaining with the fae every other season. Most of my customers were human and came to me.¡± I reply, ¡°If you¡¯d asked me what a fairy ring was before this moment, I¡¯d probably be caught blushing and refuse to answer.¡±


    The little fairy stares up at me with wide eyed confusion, but it doesn¡¯t last for long, its attention seized by some new idea, and line of thought.


    ¡°Mountain flower. I want a mountain flower!¡± This declaration, of course, cannot be ignored by the many others that suddenly take interest in us once more. They buzz about, shouting and demanding new flowers, pretty flowers, large flowers, colourful flowers.


    ¡°If we bring these flowers, you¡¯ll bring Luek back.¡±


    ¡°When the flowers are planted in the fairy ring. Not plucked to die, but planted to grow and to live forever! Then we will give Sara her Luek.¡±


    ¡°Seems pretty simple.¡± I say, finding no trick in the promise itself, though the phrasing seems a little weird.


    ¡°Don¡¯t trust them.¡± Sara''s mother says glaring blindly into the shadows around us, unable to see or hear the creatures.


    ¡°You said that we shouldn¡¯t break a promise made to them, and Sara made a promise.¡± I say, ¡°All that they¡¯re asking is for us to gather flowers for them and to make a small garden in the circle of mushrooms.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re tricksters. They take as they will and destroy what they want. The children taken are rarely ever seen again, what they do with them no one knows.¡± The mother says, her white-knuckle grip proving that the phrase is not merely wordplay. Her fingers couldn¡¯t be any more pale if she were to coat them in snow.


    ¡°It¡¯ll be fine.¡± I say, trying to encourage her while watching closely the way she moves her iron dagger. The fairies keep a distance from her, some blowing raspberries in her general direction.


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    If the iron is doing anything that a dirty diaper wouldn¡¯t, I can¡¯t see it.


    ¡°Are you going to be giving Luek back the moment we finish our half of the deal?¡± I ask the fairy, trying to assuage the doubts that Sara¡¯s mother has seeded in me.


    ¡°The moment you build the garden, we will give Sara back her Luek.¡± The fairy says, sounding a little frustrated with me. ¡°You¡¯re worse with your words than Sara or Luek, do you want me to¡­ speak¡­ slower? Or maybe louder?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fine.¡± I reply, forcing a smile through my surprise at the little creatures booming voice. ¡°I just wanted to make sure, you¡¯re known as tricksters apparently, you know?¡±


    ¡°Tricksters? Fair.¡± He nods proudly, while smiling.


    ¡°Can we use these flowers?¡± Sara asks the fairy, pointing at a patch of bluebells at the edge of the sunlight.


    ¡°Those, yes. These, no. That, definitely not. The yellow ones...maybe.¡± The fairy flutters about, soon joined by others of its kind, pointing at the flowers they want and those they don¡¯t.


    ¡°How will we dig them up?¡± I ask, as Sara is already digging into the soil with her bare hands. Her mother hesitantly joins her, though she doesn¡¯t let go of the knife.


    Country people really are built different.


    ¡°Here,¡± Hope says, handing me a hand sized trowel, perfect for the job.


    ¡°Why are you carrying this around?¡± I ask as she pulls a small shovel from her bag. The angular head looks like it¡¯s been ground down through years of use, and the cloth that wraps the grip and shaft has been recently traded out for something fresh.


    ¡°It¡¯s a shovel. I use it to dig.¡± She replies shaking her head, ¡°What fanciful purpose would you think to use a shovel for?¡±


    ¡°Shovelling manure.¡± I suggest, ¡°I¡¯ve heard that it can be used as quite the cruel club, too.¡±


    ¡°This one?¡± She ignores me, pointing out a blooming bundle of pink petalled flowers. They sag a little, but the fairies seem to love these ones as much as any others here.


    The red ones, the blue ones, the yellow and the white, but not the sad purple that droop. They guide us from one to the next waving wildly and sometimes arguing in favour and sometimes against.


    Slowly, plant by plant we dig up all those in the field that the fairies deem worthy of the garden that they so desire. Hope proves herself invaluable in digging up the plants and planting them back into the earth within the ring of mushrooms.


    ¡°What do you fairies do all day?¡± I ask, wiping the sweat away and straightening my hair. ¡°Drink dew from the flowers and play all day?¡±


    ¡°Have you tried flower dew?¡± The fairy asks, gently running a hand over the soft red petals. ¡°I¡¯ve seen people doing something similar before celebrating spring. They were sniffing lines of pollen from the nooks in each other¡¯s bodies.¡±


    ¡°How is that¡­? Never mind. I don¡¯t think I want to know.¡± I shake my head.


    ¡°Flowers are sex organs too, you know.¡± The little creature says, as he pours a droplet from the red flower into his mouth. A little of it overflowing and covering his face.


    ¡°That¡¯s gross.¡± I say, lifting a flower from the earth, roots and all.


    ¡°It¡¯s just dew, silly human.¡± He says, laughing at us.


    ¡°People were sniffing pollen?¡± Sara asks, innocently wondering by with her own flower.


    ¡°They do!¡± the fairy says, ¡°It makes them all really happy. We have some pollen here too, but it doesn¡¯t work the same on us. Do you want to try some?¡±


    ¡°Nope. Nope. Stop that.¡± I say, getting between them. ¡°No giving drugs to minors.¡±


    The fairy pokes its tongue at me while making an ugly face.


    ¡°No fun, party-pooper!¡± he squeals flying off again.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡± I say, facing Sara. Her mother is already right by her side explaining about the dangers of the pollen, and waving me away.


    ¡°So, we plant them right in the middle of the circle?¡± Hope asks, looking about with a tense expression. A strange birds cry is enough to make her spin about and hold up the shovel, ready to attack.


    ¡°Relax.¡± I say, ¡°They¡¯re not so frightening. Just try not to step in the circle yourself.¡±


    ¡°You can step in the circle.¡± The fairy says, hopping over to us. ¡°You¡¯re too big and ugly, and magic-less, you can¡¯t come through.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s safe?¡± I ask, poking at the ground in the middle of the mushroom circle.


    ¡°It¡¯s safe.¡± The fairies shout flying around in circles, taking up the phrase.


    They really are strange creatures.


    Taking a deep breath and preparing myself for what might go wrong. I hop over the mushrooms and land in the middle of their fairy circle.


    The ground is a little soft, but that¡¯s just because it¡¯s forest soil. I haven¡¯t slipped through space and ended up anywhere new, though the sunlight is rather pleasantly warm here.


    ¡°Be careful of the mushrooms.¡± I warn hope, as she looks at me with a  weird expression. She shakes her head and lifts her shovel, her feet are getting rather close to the fairies and their mushroom stools.


    ~Hope


    I carefully step around the fairy circle, hearing them giggle and play. It¡¯s a good thing that my spade is made from bronze, not iron. I¡¯d been thinking of taking the iron, but the price was simply too much.


    I¡¯ve still not seen these strange and dangerous creatures, though seeing Fate jump right into the circle of mushrooms as her face is twisted up looking as if she¡¯s leaping from a cliff¡¯s edge, I can only surmise that they twist up a person¡¯s mind.


    I don¡¯t think that I can trust what she sees, she¡¯s clearly not entirely with it. I¡¯ll have to protect everyone, and hope that at least the promise to give the boy back is an honest one.


    ¡°What now?¡± I ask, looking around and seeing few other flowers remaining. Apparently, those we haven¡¯t yet touched aren¡¯t desirable to these strange spirits.


    ¡°We search for more flowers, I think.¡± Fate says, her eyes following something in the air. ¡°Special flowers, bright flowers, and good smelling flowers.¡±


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t be too hard.¡± I say, sighing as I take back the trowel and return it to my bag. Alongside my shovel, it¡¯s always in easy reach, it¡¯s no longer something that I need to use so often, but I¡¯d still like to keep it.


    I haven¡¯t yet found that last beautiful place.


    ¡°Oh, and there¡¯s a special flower that they want.¡± She says. ¡°It¡¯s up high where the forest thins and the snow falls. Oh, that¡¯s a long way, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Why do they want these flowers?¡± I ask, holding down a sigh. It¡¯s bad manners. Now that I¡¯m around people again, it¡¯s important to get my manners back into good condition, my mother would be appalled.


    ¡°Ah¡­ they want flowers to take home?¡± Fate says. ¡°That¡¯s what they say.¡±


    ¡°Well, the sooner we get to work, the sooner we get the boy back.¡± I say, ¡°Let¡¯s get these flowers.¡±


    ¡°We should go for the mountain flower first, gather others along the way.¡± Fate suggests. ¡°We should get Shadow to come along, too. We can hang some bags off of him and put the flowers in them.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s a good idea.¡± I say, looking at the tree roots, rocks, and small holes. ¡°I don¡¯t think this is a good place for a horse.¡±


    ¡°Oh, maybe¡­¡± Fate says, sagging as she comes to accept my point. ¡°Damn lazy horse must be sitting back in the stables enjoying himself.¡±


    ¡°Did you ever give him those apples you promised?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Oh, uh¡­¡±


    ¡°We should leave before the sun sets.¡± Sara¡¯s mother suggests, looking back at us. ¡°You¡¯ll come back with us tomorrow?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I reply easily. Even if Fate decides to let this go, I can¡¯t.


    ¡°Good.¡± The woman nods, looking distant as she holds her daughter¡¯s hand. ¡°We can¡¯t risk offending the fae. We¡¯ll do this thing for them, then leave. No more promises, even if they don¡¯t give Luek back.¡±


    ¡°You think they¡¯d go back on their promise?¡± Fate asks.


    ¡°They¡¯re tricksters, don¡¯t trust them. Ever.¡± The woman says.


    ¡°Is it bad if I go with you?¡± the bandit asks, and suddenly we all recall that he¡¯s still with us. ¡°What?¡±


    Now that I see him still blowing at his pan pipes, I suspect that his awful imitations of music were lost amidst the loud, obnoxious songs of the birds up in the trees.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you help us?¡± Fate asks, stepping up to him and glaring as she tries to get the dirt out from under her nails.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know what you were doing, really.¡± He replies with a shrug. ¡°I would¡¯ve gotten in the way, best to stand back and offer music to keep the fae in a good mood.¡±


    The pipes loosen and almost fall apart as the bard struggles to catch his broken instruments, swearing under his breath.


    ¡°Well the fairies are having fun with you.¡± She says, smiling at his misfortune. ¡°Yeah, okay. Fine. We¡¯re leaving, we can¡¯t stop you from following.¡±


    Fate takes me by the arm and pulls me to the edge of the clearing before waving back into the clearing.


    ¡°We¡¯ll be back tomorrow.¡± She says, ¡°We need to get that mountain flower, and going in the dark would be stupid, we¡¯d never find it.¡±


    ¡°Fate?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m talking to the fairy.¡± She replies. ¡°He¡¯s being awfully rude considering how far we¡¯re going to help him. Oh yeah, that¡¯s right, get back to that flower dew, and ignore everything. Damn drunkard fairies.¡±


    ¡°Fate?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡± She replies, ¡°Let¡¯s get going. Do you guys know the way back?¡±


    ¡°I do!¡± Sara cries happily, still locked in her mother¡¯s grip.


    Travel through the darkening forest is becoming a more familiar affair, but for all the thick humidity, it¡¯s not nearly as bad as the hot, dry desert that I¡¯m used to. The shade of the trees hide strange terrors like the fae, and I have to wonder what other things live here.


    ¡°Do we tell the villagers that Luek was taken by the fairies?¡± I ask, looking back towards where that mystical field lay. The smell of the flowers has faded a measure, but hasn¡¯t fully faded.


    ¡°No.¡± Sara¡¯s mother answers before anyone else has the chance. ¡°They¡¯ll want to interfere. We take care of this promise, make this garden, then we tell them about it.¡±


    ¡°So, we don¡¯t tell Lueks father anything?¡± I ask, ¡°We have to say something.¡±


    ¡°And what happens when he comes here and talks with the fairies? What about when they refuse to give us Luek back after the garden is made? Will he try to offer up Sara to have his son back?¡±


    ¡°That seems rather unlikely.¡± Fate says.


    ¡°Not so.¡± The bard says, ¡°It¡¯s the tale as old as time itself, that when the fae take what is most precious, that men and women offer as sacrifice anything to get their loved ones back.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re stories.¡± Fate says.


    ¡°Based on realities.¡± The bard replies.


    ¡°If the fae give the boy back when we¡¯re done, what does it matter if his parents know about it or not. They¡¯ll have the boy back, or they won¡¯t.¡± Sara¡¯s mother says. Finally sheathing her iron knife as she pushes her steps a little faster. She doesn¡¯t even spare the forest behind us a glance, looking only ahead.


    ¡°Oooh, that flower looks nice.¡± Fate says, ¡°Hope, bring the shovel.¡±


    ¡°It is pretty. Do you think the fairies will like it?¡± Sara says, her mother still holding her tightly as they pause to give us a moment to gather the plant.


    ¡°I think they might.¡± Fate says carefully pulling the flower out with roots and all.

 Chapter 8 ~ Flowers

    ~Fate


    ¡°These flowers are lovely, but do you have any still attached to their roots?¡± I ask, looking through the flowers that the young man has shown us. Wrapped and ready to be gifted.


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to worry, these will keep for months.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s incredible, but I really need the whole plants.¡± I say, looking through them. ¡°You really don¡¯t have anything?¡±


    ¡°I might have something like what you¡¯re after.¡± The young hobbyist says, ¡°I¡¯m not sure I¡¯d really want to give them up, though.¡±


    ¡°Weren¡¯t you saying yesterday that you were interested in visiting the city and finding yourself a woman?¡± I ask, recalling the young man from my trading spree just yesterday. ¡°It¡¯s a short enough trip, and I¡¯m sure with those flowers and some jewellery like this you¡¯ll be able to find a fine young woman.¡±


    ¡°I guess¡­¡± He says, glancing back down to his garden behind him. ¡°If I¡¯m going to act, then now is the time¡­ I wouldn¡¯t be here to take care of them, and it¡¯s not like they¡¯ll flower again before next spring. What are you using them for?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a gift. I¡¯m sure the people we¡¯re giving them to will love them as much as you.¡± Perhaps even too much with how they drink the dew from the petals.


    ¡°Well, alright. You can have them.¡± He says, looking down at the flowers with a somewhat pained expression. Hope doesn¡¯t hesitate to dig up the plants that this young man has likely spent his life trying to cultivate.


    She carefully places them in the basket we¡¯ve placed in her bag for this exact purpose. Gathering the widest selection of the flowering plants we can. The fairies don¡¯t seem to have any particular favourites but are instead looking to have one of everything. Then two of everything. Then three after that.


    With these in the bag, we head out to meet with Sara and her mother at the edge of the forest. They both stand there cautiously. Looking over at the innkeeper who is struggling to gather together the villagers to help him another day.


    I guess that even here, a missing child isn¡¯t reason enough to waste away the last days of your life in hopeless searches.


    A few people still do help the man, but he just can¡¯t gather the same attention as he managed yesterday. That fact isn¡¯t something that he¡¯s blind to, and his cries for help only grow more desperate the longer he goes without adequate help.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been busy.¡± Sara¡¯s mother says, waving to the flowers that we¡¯ve gathered. ¡°He finally decided to leave, did he?¡±


    ¡°He?¡±


    ¡°Kincade, the boy growing those flowers, you didn¡¯t just pluck them from his field, did you?¡± She asks, leering at us.


    ¡°No, no. It was a fair trade. He¡¯s running off to the city, to find himself a girl.¡± She nods in calm understanding. ¡°You¡¯re that familiar with him?¡±


    ¡°We all know each other out here.¡± She says, ¡°It¡¯s not as if there are many strangers in a village this small.¡±


    ¡°Then why aren¡¯t they bothered about the boys disappearance?¡± Hope asks, gesturing to those who are leaving the innkeeper and the small group of those who support him.


    ¡°We know each other, that doesn¡¯t mean that we all care.¡± She says, ¡°Besides, a missing child at this time of year? Most people won¡¯t think of the fae, they¡¯ll think that he ran away to make the most of his imperfect life.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s common out here too?¡± I ask, as we start into the forest.


    ¡°Not as common as the city children who pass through.¡± She replies, ¡°Usually they don¡¯t have a thing to their name, and they¡¯re more than willing to steal and take as they please. They¡¯re far worse that the fake bandits that beg by the roadside.¡±


    ¡°I would take umbrage to your description if it weren¡¯t so perfectly true.¡± The bard says, joining us. I¡¯m surprised that he decided to come back at all, beyond the stolen sword used in the trick, he really has nothing to do with this.


    ¡°We simply can¡¯t compete with the younger generations; their heartless competition makes it impossible to be a good villain.¡± He lowers his head in fake self-loathing, though the awkward pause that follows seems to speak of the genuine deal.


    Perhaps he has some bad memories from his time, galivanting about as a bandit.


    We make our way quick through the forest, and in a few short minutes we find ourselves in the company of the fairies again. They gather up and hover in the air around the new flowers, arguing which are the best and where they should be planted.


    Sara and I translate the arguments of the fae, as they try to decide where each flower aught to be planted. Sara¡¯s mother keeps her far from the circle itself, while Hope and I carefully dig the earth and plant the flowers in pretty patterns.


    Hope is surprisingly capable, not only in planting them, but also keeping them from clashing too harshly. The colours are still varied enough to make it less than appealing, but the fairies seem to love it the more as the controlled chaos of colour fills their fairy ring.


    Only a single flowering plant remains in the basket untouched, unwanted by the fairies, who disregard it without need to even discuss it. It¡¯s not an ugly flower, deep purple with edges coloured black.


    I guess we¡¯ll keep it then, if the fairies don¡¯t want it.


    ¡°The mountain flower!¡± The same fairy as from yesterday shouts at me, ¡°You have to get the mountain flower, or it¡¯s not a real garden.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not going to keep having us run off after more and more difficult to find flowers, are you?¡± I ask, glaring down at the little trickster.


    ¡°Nuh-uh.¡± He denies me easily. ¡°Just the mountain flower, and anything else pretty you find on the way. There isn¡¯t that much time to have you running on 100 year quests.¡±


    ¡°100 year quests?¡± I ask, ¡°Is that the normal timeline of your pranks.¡±


    ¡°Sometimes.¡± The fairy shrugs, ¡°The mountain flower?¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes, we¡¯ll get you your mountain flower. They¡¯re not rare are they?¡± I ask.


    ¡°The mountain flowers grow at the edges of the forest and the mountain. They aren¡¯t common, but they aren¡¯t rare.¡± Sara¡¯s mother says. ¡°If you¡¯re leaving to search for one, Sara and I will return to the village.¡±


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°But mu~m!¡± Sara cries.


    ¡°No.¡± Her mother insists, ¡°I will not give the fae more chance to chain you to their schemes. You will come with me.¡±


    ¡°Well, shall we go then?¡± I ask hope as she brushes the dirt from her hands. She sneers at the brown stain the dirt has left on her hands, but she just can¡¯t rub it clean.


    ¡°How do we avoid getting lost?¡± She asks, packing her shovel back to the side of her bag. Not the one that she¡¯s so careful with, but the larger one that she carries beside it.


    ¡°Just keep going up the hill, when past the forest you¡¯ll be able to find the road easily enough, and you can follow that right back to town.¡± Sara¡¯s mother says, ¡°We¡¯re leaving so¡­ thank you. Thank you for helping not just Sara but Luek too.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡± Hope replies before I can say a thing. ¡°It¡¯s only right to try and save him, even if¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes¡­ even if we fail.¡± Sara¡¯s mother replies with a dark smile. ¡°I won¡¯t let the same happen to Sara. I¡¯ll see you both tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Yes, it was¡­ an adventure, meeting you.¡± I reply, wearing the same smile I bring to a deal. It certainly hasn¡¯t been the best circumstances that brought us together, but that¡¯s in no way her fault.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get going.¡± Hope says, already eager to get going. It¡¯s almost as if she hasn¡¯t been digging holes and gardening for the last half an hour. I know this girl is fit, but I mean, this is just unreasonable.


    ¡°We should take it slow so we don¡¯t miss any flowers on the way.¡± I suggest, following her step up the mountain. This is going to be way more difficult than when we ran down the mountainside.


    The air in the forest chills the further up the slope we walk, there¡¯s hints of drifting snow but most quickly melt when they hit the ground, or my outstretched hand. Large clumps of the white snow fall from the treetops, warmed by the sunlight overhead, and slipping from their seats on the canopy above.


    The trees here grow much more thin compared to what lies at our back. This entire forest here is nothing more than a strip between the mountains and the grassy hills, and those grassy hills don¡¯t even last very long before they turn to sandy desert instead. I¡¯ve heard a few academic types try to explain why the land here is like this, but none made any points particularly convincingly.


    ¡°Can we take another break?¡± I ask, trying to quiet my wheezing a little and maintain some small hint of pride.


    Hope looks back at me, her bag now covered in bright flowers and dirt that we¡¯ve picked up along the way. The fae aren¡¯t following us today, which is nice at least, they¡¯re company can be a little less than desirable.


    She pauses for a second, looking from my dirty boots to my red face. She doesn¡¯t even have a single bead of sweat on her brow.


    ¡°I¡¯m already carrying everything.¡± Hope says, looking down at me from her proud heights, breathing easily. ¡°The only burden left is you, but I¡¯m not sure I can manage that much as well.¡±


    ¡°For your information, I am very light, just rather awkward. In more ways than one¡­¡± I say, standing up and forcing myself to keep moving now that I¡¯ve had a second to breath.


    ¡°You are, but I¡¯m worse.¡± She replies. ¡°I don¡¯t understand how you handle people so well.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s easy most of the time. People just want an opportunity to talk about themselves. Keeping a few interesting stories in mind to fill empty silences, and everything¡¯s easy. That¡¯s with new people, at least.


    ¡°When people get to know me, it¡¯s a little more difficult.¡± I say, ¡°Oh, over there! That looks like a nice flower.¡±


    ¡°The mountain flowers?¡±


    ¡°No, but it is still pretty.¡± I reply.


    I breath a sigh of relief as Hope removes her shovel and gets to work on pulling the flower from the earth.


    It¡¯s a strange little quest that we¡¯ve been drawn into, and so soon after our journey has begun. Collecting flowers to trade to the fae in return for a little boys life?


    It¡¯s something out of a fairy tale, if we weren¡¯t on a time crunch, I¡¯d write a book about it.


    ¡°What if we don¡¯t get the boy back?¡± I ask, ¡°What if he¡¯s lost to the fairies for good.¡±


    Most of these stories don¡¯t end happily, and I¡¯m not sure about this one myself.


    Hope pauses, her hand barely touching the flower before her. The pale white of its petals, almost like that of the virgin snow around us.


    ¡°We have to.¡± She replies, carefully placing the flower beside the others in the large pot that is erupting from her bag.


    ¡°Right¡­¡± I whisper looking down at my hands. They feel freezing even though it¡¯s not really so cold here.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you the one who¡¯s convinced that everything will turn out fine?¡± She asks, shouldering her bag.


    ¡°No. Mine is a selfish belief. I¡¯m going to be fine, and for that to be true, the world itself has to be fine.¡± I say, looking up to the blue sky peeking through the thin canopy above me, then down to the ground beneath my feet. I can¡¯t imagine it all gone, and I refuse to even try.


    ¡°So, you don¡¯t think we can save the boy?¡± She asks, shifting the weight on her back before heading further up the hill. We have to keep climbing to find that road that Sara¡¯s mother talked about.


    ¡°It depends on the fairies.¡± I say, thinking back to the playful little creatures. ¡°Do you think they¡¯re doing anything mean to him?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°I just can¡¯t imagine them hurting him, tricking him into getting hurt maybe, but actually hurting him? I can¡¯t see it.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d be surprised at what people can do to one another.¡± Hope says without turning back to me. ¡°I¡¯m not sure what you saw yesterday, but I didn¡¯t see anything playful or kind. Don¡¯t underestimate them.¡±


    ¡°You really couldn¡¯t see a thing?¡± I ask, trying to catch up with her. She just steps quicker when I do.


    ¡°No.¡± She replies. ¡°I couldn¡¯t see a thing.¡±


    ¡°Is that a part of their magic?¡± I wonder, looking up the mountain.


    ¡°What was this flower meant to look like?¡± She asks, turning back to me.


    ¡°Tall, and large, with white and blue petals, and a centre filled with large seeds.¡± I say. Sara¡¯s mother was more help than the fairies, who described it as a ¡®a flower trying to imitate the sun¡¯, whatever that means.


    ¡°Is that it there?¡± She asks, waving over to a flower that sits amidst the snow.


    It stands about as tall as a small child and the flowerhead is like a sunflower¡¯s but smaller and with pale white petals tinted blue at the edges. It smells like fresh, cool rain on a hot summer day.


    ¡°How are we meant to bring this to the fairies?¡± I ask, looking at it. The earth at its base is frozen, and the stalk seems tall enough that I¡¯m sure we could break it all to easily while transporting it.


    ¡°Carefully.¡± Hope replies, her shovel already in hand as she circles the flower, marking the dirt around it where she¡¯s going to start digging. ¡°Let¡¯s hope it¡¯s roots are shallow.¡±


    The snow and cold make it somewhat easier to put effort into things, but my burning legs prove that there¡¯s limits to that. The sweat on my forehead is already feeling far too cold.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you believe in the perfect life that comes after?¡± Hope asks as she leans on her shovel and takes a moment to prepare herself. ¡°Rather than trying to save the world, it seems a more reasonable delusion.¡±


    ¡°Could you stop calling it a delusion?¡± I ask, itching at my arms. I know it¡¯s ridiculous, but how else am I supposed to say it. The world simply can¡¯t end.


    ¡°Sorry.¡± She says, sounding truly contrite. ¡°It¡¯s just that religion seems to offer an easier and simpler solution, even if¡­¡±


    ¡°Even if it¡¯s nonsense?¡± I ask, looking up to see Sanguine sitting there above us, looking down with a cool indifference.


    ¡°Yeah.¡± She replies.


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe. I¡¯ve tried to believe in the gods, and their plans and kindness, but I don¡¯t feel it in my heart. I don¡¯t have faith.¡±


    ¡°But you have faith that you¡¯ll save the world?¡± She asks, giving me a strange look.


    ¡°Yes.¡± I reply, unable to find some way to pretty it up. ¡°No? Maybe? I have faith that the world simply won¡¯t disappear. That we can¡¯t just die. That next year will come the same as tomorrow will.


    ¡°It just doesn¡¯t make sense to me that it wouldn¡¯t. So, something must happen to save the world.¡±


    ¡°You are a strange woman.¡± Hope says, slowly hefting the plant from the snow. ¡°Now let¡¯s get this thing to the fairies and get that child back.¡±


    ¡°Sure, we might even get it done today if Sara and her mum are happy to visit the forest again before tomorrow.¡± I say, lifting myself from the ground where I was sitting and following her as she treads a path around, trying to find the road down.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be too sure on that.¡± She replies, stepping around a heap of snow. ¡°Her mother seems worried about the fae, and I can understand why.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re not that bad when you meet them.¡± I say, ¡°Playful but I couldn¡¯t see a sign of evil in them.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t even see them at all, so why are you convinced that what you see is real?¡± She asks, stopping to meet my eyes just to carry the point. There¡¯s a darkness lingering in her gaze, that the light just can¡¯t cut through.


    ¡°They seem genuine.¡± I reply simply. ¡°If there¡¯s a trick to their words it feels like it¡¯s a genuine one. I don¡¯t think they¡¯ll lie outright.¡±


    ¡°Just¡­ don¡¯t be so easy to trust.¡±


    ¡°Even you?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Even me.¡± She replies, touching the bag that¡¯s so precious to her.


    ¡°Hope?¡± I ask, unable to get it out of my mind, perhaps it¡¯ll mess things up between us, but I just can¡¯t suppress my curiosity. ¡°If you don¡¯t mind my asking, what¡¯s in the bag?¡±


    She pauses, looking back at me, the darkness in her eyes more consuming that a moment ago. A shadow compared to the darkest midnight, where even the stars are covered in dark clouds.


    She wet her lips, then pauses. Blinking, she looks away and starts marching again.


    When I think that the question has been dropped from her mind, I hear her whisper.


    ¡°The meaning of my life.¡±

 Chapter 9 ~ Conclusion of the Deal

    ~Hope


    The fairy home is the same as the last time I visited, the shadows play with the bright light that shines through the canopy above. I can never be sure if the movement in the corners of my eyes are simply my imagination, or the true forms of these mischievous beings trying to catch us unawares.


    Fate is already in discussion with the phantoms that she claims are their real forms. If they¡¯re able to hide from sight like this, I¡¯m not convinced that anything that anything any of us see is real. We can¡¯t trust these creatures, but I don¡¯t know of any other way to save the boy that they stole.


    I can¡¯t simply stand by and let him be killed.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get started planting.¡± Fate says, eagerly bouncing to my side and helping to pull the bag down without damaging the flowers. I¡¯ve already carefully lowered the mountain flower to the ground, thankfully it¡¯s not as delicate as it looks.


    Pulling out my shovel, I get to work making space for it in the centre of the arrangement. It¡¯s obvious that it¡¯ll be in the centre, but the rest of the eclectic mix of colours and shapes really makes this difficult.


    The mountain flower is obviously the centrepiece overlooking the smaller cousins, so I slowly build an arrangement around it, placing the flowers together by colour following the rainbow as a guide. I never actually played my hand at this when I was younger, but I my older sister, Grace, was always out in the garden plucking flowers and making proper arrangements.


    ¡°Keep your eyes on the centre, and use the sides of your eyes to see what¡¯s missing.¡± Was her advice, and this really isn¡¯t much different.


    I have to rearrange them a few times to balance the sizes of the flowers more than the colours, but in the end we have a rather nice looking bundle of flowers. I lean on my shovel looking at the scene, trying to remember anything Grace made back then, but all I can recall is a blend of colours.


    ¡°Why a garden, anyway?¡± Fate asks, looking over my work as she rubs the dirt from her hands.


    Whatever whisper she hears as a reply, incites a sour expression. What could they have said that would inspire this reaction? What exactly have they planned to do with this garden?


    ~Fate


    ¡°We want to save them.¡± The fairy says cheerfully. ¡°All flowers are different and these flowers we can keep so they don¡¯t get burned into nothingness with the rest of your stupid world.¡±


    ¡°This world isn¡¯t stupid.¡± Sara says, pouting like someone just told her that her favourite blouse is ugly.


    ¡°Can you walk on the ceiling here? No! Do you have dragons spitting fire and rhymes? No! Do you have deep dungeons filled with strange monsters? No!


    ¡°This world is boring!¡±


    ¡°We have flowers, and nice people.¡± Sara declares, in the face of the fairies tirade.


    ¡°Not for much longer.¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s Luek?¡± Sara asks, looking up at the glowing fairy.


    ¡°We¡¯ll give Luek back to you, you¡¯ll see!¡± Shouts the fairy. ¡°Stand in the circle, but don¡¯t tread on any of the flowers.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Sara asks, looking at the fairy with wide eyes. ¡°Aren¡¯t you bringing Luek back here? Why do I have to stand in the circle?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you trust us?¡± The fairy asks, fluttering about while ushering her towards the circle of mushrooms.


    ¡°Sara?¡± Her mother calls to her still gripping tight to her shoulder, as she holds the iron dagger in the other, ready to be used.


    ¡°I just have to go into the circle.¡± Sara says. ¡°They say they¡¯ll bring Luek back if I do it.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Her mother hisses, gripping the knife so tight that her fingers turn white. ¡°That is something you absolutely mustn¡¯t do.¡±


    ¡°Mum?¡± The girl asks, looking back up at her mother.


    ¡°No. You won¡¯t be taken away.¡± She says, gripping her daughter in a tight grip and lifting the knife up to her neck. The iron blade sinks into her flesh enough to draw blood, but stops there as the woman starts to breath faster, her face pale as she looks down at her daughter.


    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    ¡°I have to save you.¡± She whispers.


    ¡°Sara!¡± I cry, stumbling closer, but pausing when the mother pushes the knife in deeper. The girl struggles, frightened and confused, as she starts to bleed.


    The fairies flutter all around, their light swirling around the pair as they make faces and call the mother silly little names even though she can¡¯t see or hear them.


    ¡°We¡¯ll be perfect in the hearts of the gods, but only so long as these tricksters don¡¯t steal your soul first.¡± Sara¡¯s mother whispers, even for how much she¡¯s trembling the knife isn¡¯t even close to slipping.


    ¡°Don¡¯t do it.¡± Hope says, holding the shovel up like a club. ¡°Let her go.¡±


    ¡°This is none of your business. Leave.¡± Sara¡¯s mother says. ¡°We¡¯ll be fine. I know what I must do.¡±


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound fine at all¡­¡± I whisper, backing away. ¡°Let¡¯s talk this out, I¡¯m sure we can figure things out somehow.¡±


    ¡°Sara, we¡¯ll bring you to Luek, and bring Luek to you.¡± One of the fairies says waving the girl closer, ¡°Just step into the circle.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll be together in the gods embrace.¡± Her mother says, breathing deep and looking up. There¡¯s conviction in her eyes, and finally she sighs in slow resignation.


    Hope lunges for her, the shovel slamming down on the woman¡¯s head as she moves the knife, slicing her daughters throat. Blood sprays over us as the two fall, the mother backwards, and the daughter forwards, closer to the circle.


    ¡°Sara.¡± I cry out, reaching for the girl trying to catch the blood from her neck.


    She looks between me and the beckoning fairies, before leaping into the fairy circle.


    A bright flash of light blinds me, and I have to look away. I blink a few times to clear my vision, and by the time I can see again, she¡¯s gone.


    The mushroom circle is exactly where it was before, but now there is no more Sara, and the flower garden we crammed into the small space has disappeared as well. Only a lonely tuft of grass remains inside the circle.


    Sara¡¯s mother shakes her head, slowly recovering from the hit.


    ¡°Sara!¡± She screams the moment she remembers where she is.


    She reaches out to the mushrooms, crushing a few in her hands as she tries to pry the earth apart to find her missing child. I don¡¯t think she¡¯ll find her buried under the ground.


    ¡°Fairy!¡± I cry waving to the little trickster still hanging nearby. ¡°What the shit was that?!¡±


    ¡°We did as we promised.¡± The fairy says, fluttering down here. ¡°We brought Luek to Sara, and Sara to Luek. It was a promise to the boy, too.¡±


    ¡°Um, what?¡±


    ¡°They get to play forever now, and they¡¯re little baby fae.¡±


    ¡°Again, what?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s way better than staying on this dying world. Thanks for the flowers, it¡¯d be sad if they didn¡¯t survive.¡±


    The girls mother slices madly with her iron knife and the fairy barely has to dodge to escape her fury.


    ¡°Farewell stupid humans. We¡¯ll be back in a few thousand years when things settle down. Good luck with the dying.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not going to die.¡± I insist.


    ¡°Oh, then good luck with the pretending not to be dead.¡± The fairy says with a wave before fluttering over to the mushrooms, spinning about before fading from existence.


    Sara¡¯s mother crushes mushroom after mushroom, but the magic is already gone from them.


    The fairies have left.


    ~Hope


    ¡°They¡¯re gone?¡± I ask, and Fate quietly nods, eyes still focused on the circle of mushrooms slowly being crushed by the crazed woman before us. There¡¯s no surviving the wound she inflicted on her daughter, but maybe the fae can heal it¡­


    I hate to think it, but it¡¯s the only conclusion I can come to that isn¡¯t a dreadful ending to this disastrous little trip.


    ¡°Sara!¡± the woman screams again still clawing at the earth. She¡¯s dropped the iron dagger and isn¡¯t fighting any longer, her blood drips onto the ground from the wound on her head where I hit her with the shovel.


    ¡°Sara.¡± She whimpers a little weaker this time. Pulling at the grass and dirt.


    ¡°We should leave as quickly as we can.¡± I say, looking between the bereaved woman and Fate. If we go back to town and report that we¡¯ve lost another kid, that they¡¯ve both been taken by the fae¡­


    I¡¯ve been chased by villagers with torches and pitchforks before, and I¡¯m not very keen on reliving that bloody night again.


    ¡°It¡¯d be dangerous to travel of a night.¡± Hope says, turning back to me and shaking her head. ¡°We¡¯ll head back to town and tell everyone what happened.¡±


    ¡°Fate¡­¡± I say warningly, I¡¯m not so worried about dying, but I do have something I need to do first.


    ¡°It¡¯ll be fine.¡± Fate says with a distant smile, touching some of the blood that¡¯s splattered onto her face. She grows pale as she looks down at it and sees what it is.


    ¡°When peasants get worked up, they don¡¯t listen to good sense.¡± I say, taking a handkerchief from a pocket and wiping the blood from her face. ¡°We should be careful.¡±


    ¡°Do you think she¡¯s going to be alright? Sara, I mean.¡± She asks, turning her gaze away into the circle that¡¯s already been wiped from existence.


    ¡°I¡¯d follow them into the fae¡¯s realm if I could.¡± I say, feeling a growing frustration. I failed again. ¡°We can¡¯t. We¡¯ve done what we can.¡±


    ¡°I think she¡¯s going to be alright.¡± She says, shaking her head and plucking a familiar confident expression from nothingness, ¡°And the stupid fairies are wrong. The world isn¡¯t going to end.¡±


    I don¡¯t correct her, there¡¯s no need. I¡¯m sure that she already knows that she¡¯s lying.


    Sara¡¯s mother continues weeping on the ground, tearing up soil and screaming her daughter¡¯s name. I hesitantly take the knife from her before considering how to proceed.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t save her.¡± The woman weeps, staring down at her bloody hands. ¡°I¡­ I failed her. My own daughter¡­¡±


    ¡°She¡¯ll be alright.¡± Fate says, leaning down to the woman¡¯s other side and rubbing her shoulder. I¡¯m not sure how she can comfort this woman after watching her nearly kill her own daughter.


    ¡°She won¡¯t become part of the gods. Her soul is lost.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯ll live on with the fairies.¡± Fate says, ¡°She¡¯s not gone. She¡¯s just¡­ not here.¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± She stares at the knife in my hands, but chuckles sadly before pushing herself to her feet. ¡°The gods will find her eventually.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the spirit.¡± Fate says, patting the woman¡¯s back.


    ¡°I¡­ I¡¯ll trust in the gods. I can¡¯t have perfection without Sara, so she¡¯ll come back. The gods will find her.¡±


    Thankfully Fate is here to keep her distracted, because I¡¯d be running the opposite direction now if I was left alone with this woman. I can halfway sympathise, but also¡­ I just watched her nearly kill her daughter before my eyes. That¡¯s not something I can forget easily.


    ¡°Heyya, what are you all up to? Did you get that kid back?¡± The bard says, stumbling up to us. ¡°No? Wait, where¡¯s the other kid?¡±


    Sara¡¯s mother breaks down into tears, falling to the ground.


    I smack him up the back of the head.

 Chapter 10 ~ Two Sides

    ~Hope


    ¡°We should leave quickly and quietly.¡± I repeat as we reach the edge of the forest, hoping that Fate will listen to me this time.


    ¡°We need to tell them what happened.¡± She insists.


    ¡°This lady here can take care of that for us.¡± I insist, waving at Sara¡¯s mother who¡¯s still struggling along beside us. I¡¯m honestly not sure if she¡¯d even bother coming back if we didn¡¯t bring her with us, she¡¯s clearly not in a good state.


    ¡°And the bard here, too.¡± I insist waving to the man struggling to make music with his half-arsed pan pipes.


    ¡°No, we took this task upon ourselves, we should be the ones to deliver the news.¡± Fate insists. ¡°What are you so worried about?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m concerned that the townspeople won¡¯t believe us. That they¡¯ll blame us for what happened to the children and try to seek justice against us. I¡¯m capable with my sword but I can¡¯t hold back an entire town that¡¯s taken up pitchforks and torches.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not going to happen.¡± Fate says, laughing lightly at the thought. ¡°They¡¯ve all been rather sensible so far, I doubt they¡¯re going to chase us out of town when we¡¯ve done what we can to help them.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re too trusting.¡± I say.


    ¡°You¡¯re too suspicious. You were the one who was so determined to save the boy, it was far more risky to follow that blood trail and engage with the bandits, why is it only troublesome when you have to tell the parents about it?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s different.¡± I reply. ¡°Saving the boy isn¡¯t about the parents, it¡¯s about the boy himself. I couldn¡¯t care about the parents, and I¡¯d rather not be the focus of their hatred.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll deal with the talking, then.¡± Fate says, looking back at me worriedly. ¡°Is that a problem you¡¯ve had to put up with before? Getting chased by villagers with pitchforks?¡±


    ¡°Once is more than enough.¡± I reply, shivering at the memory. I wasn¡¯t so fast back then, and the villagers all looked like giants.


    Leaving the woods, we stumble upon the innkeeper who¡¯s trying to drum up support for another search team. The moment he sees us he wastes no time rushing up to us, his wide tearful eyes weeping as he desperately looks for his son in our shadows.


    ¡°You¡¯re here to help? Did you find my boy?¡± The innkeeper asks crossing the distance between us. I intercept before he can reach Fate, and he grabs me by the shoulders, asking again more loudly this time.


    It¡¯s all I can to do to keep from throwing him off and drawing my sword.


    ¡°They¡¯re gone. Taken by the fae.¡± The bereaved mother says, taking the man¡¯s attention away from me. ¡°But the gods won¡¯t let this be. Eventually, one day their souls will return to us. They have to.¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about Olivia? The fae?¡± He asks, while I back away from him.


    ¡°The fae took them.¡± She repeats. ¡°Sanguine and Cerulean will get them back. When the year ends the gods will be all powerful. They¡¯ll return our children to us.¡±


    She rants on with a raspy voice, still clutching her iron knife a little too dearly for my liking. In her state I¡¯m not sure if she¡¯s more likely to hurt herself or others.


    ¡°Leuk?¡± The innkeeper asks in a low whisper.


    ¡°We did what we could.¡± Fate says, bowing her head. ¡°I¡¯m sorry we couldn¡¯t bring him home, but we¡¯re sure he¡¯s still alive.¡±


    ¡°You¡­ it¡¯s your fault, isn¡¯t it?!¡± The man growls looking between me and Fate. ¡°He was out there because of you. He¡¯s gone because of you!¡±


    ¡°Fate.¡± I say, pulling her back and getting ready. If the man decides to throw punches, I can¡¯t do anything but draw my sword. I¡¯m no brawler, and I¡¯m not dying here because he¡¯s having an emotional fit.


    ¡°Sir.¡± Fate says loud and firm taking his attention. ¡°Luek chose his path and it¡¯s not as if he¡¯s dead. He ran away from home, that¡¯s all. Maybe he went further than most kids his age do, but trust him. He¡¯s going to be fine.¡±


    ¡°Fine? That boy couldn¡¯t even handle chores without me yelling at him, how in the hells is he going to survive the fae?! Where do I go? How do I get to him?¡± He takes a few steps into the forest, looking back at us while trying to urge us on.


    ¡°They¡¯re already gone.¡± Fate says, shaking her head. ¡°Sara is with him. They¡¯re going to be fine.¡±


    ¡°Sara too?¡± The innkeeper asks, shivering where he stands. ¡°I¡­ what do I do?¡±


    ¡°The gods will save their souls.¡± Sara¡¯s mother says, ¡°I¡¯m sure of it.¡±


    ¡°What do I even do?¡± He repeats. ¡°I¡­ why am I even bothering to keep my inn open? Why eat dinner? Why work? Why wake up in the morning? Why?¡±


    ¡°To show our love, so that the gods can see.¡± Sara¡¯s mom says, clutching at the innkeeper¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°What love? My boy is gone, my wife can barely even look at me? What love?¡±


    ¡°Love for each other and for the gods themselves.¡± Sara¡¯s mothers claws dig into his flesh. ¡°If we show the gods how much we love them, the gods will save their souls. I know it.¡±


    ¡°Fate.¡± I say, pulling at her arm. We shouldn¡¯t stay.


    ¡°Lunch.¡± She says, walking alongside me, looking worriedly back towards the pair. ¡°It¡¯s time for lunch, and we should tell the boy¡¯s mother.¡±


    I hate this.


    Dirt and muck cover the streets, and the people that we pass. The local definition of ¡®clean¡¯ involving layers of dirt equal to what the rich nobles wear in makeup. The missing child has added another invisible weight on their shoulders, but they do not bow, their smiles while worn down are still firm in the face of this disaster.


    It¡¯s too late for lunch and too early for dinner, but there¡¯s still patrons lounging around the tavern sharing stories in slurred words over drinks. The people here seem a little more honest in their despair.


    ¡°You couldn¡¯t find him?¡± The matronly owner asks as we sit at the bench by the kitchen. Her face seems considerably more weary, though her voice is filled with resignation rather than anxiety.


    ¡°We know where he ran off to, but I¡¯m afraid he¡¯s not coming back home.¡± Fate says, ¡°He was taken by the fae.¡±


    ¡°The fae? I haven¡¯t heard of the fae in¡­ wait, so he¡¯s alive?¡± She leans in close enough that I can smell the garlic on her breath, and see the light shining from the wide whites of her eyes.


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°Yeah he should be.¡± Fate shrugs staring down into her drink to look away from the intimidating larger woman. ¡°The fairies left with him and Sara, and they¡¯re not coming back. They say that the world is ending, and they don¡¯t want to be here for it so I think they went somewhere pretty far away.¡±


    ¡°You mean they really took him away from here? Somewhere safe? My boy, Luek. He¡¯s going to survive?¡± Her eyes shine with dripping tears as she looks between us, her mouth hanging wide open. ¡°Tell me you¡¯re not lying! He¡¯s¡­ he¡¯s going to live?!¡±


    ¡°With the fae. Yes.¡± I say, and the mother bursts out crying, as a bright smile erupts through the waterfall of tears


    Fate rather casually reaches a hand around to rub at her back.


    ¡°I¡­ I always regretted bringing him to this world. This dying world. To think¡­ to think that he¡¯d be so blessed. The fae? Bless those little tricksters. Oh, lovers bless them.¡±


    The woman rubs at her nose, standing up and facing the rest of the patrons. The locals look at us in surprise.


    ¡°A feast!¡± She shouts to the crowd. ¡°A feast in celebration! My son lives.¡±


    ¡°Where is he?¡± someone asks.


    ¡°He¡¯s out bothering the fairies now! Probably eating them out of their little fairy homes if I know that boy like I think I do. Little Sara is with him too.¡±


    ¡°Sara¡¯s gone too?¡± Asks a familiar old man. The grumpy shopkeeper from the other day. ¡°What did those little blighters do with her?¡±


    ¡°They saved her, old man!¡± Luek¡¯s mother shouts back. ¡°Don¡¯t you get it? They¡¯ll live to see next year and the year after that. They¡¯ll grow old, whether as humans or fairies, and they¡¯ll live.¡±


    The old man grumbles into his beard but returns to his meal, rather than argue. Maybe she actually convinced him. It wouldn¡¯t be strange. People like to embrace hope, and this isn¡¯t an entirely hopeless situation.


    Not for the kids, that is.


    For the rest of the afternoon the tavern is filled with boisterous cheers and the rich scents of sweet and oily foods. Roasts slathered in honey, and bread given more butter than is reasonable, bacon fried to perfection, and eggs sunny side up. New casks of beer and mead are cracked open, to wash down the feast, but even then, every patron is fed to bursting.


    I don¡¯t even have the chance to hesitate as the food stacks higher and higher on the table before me and Fate. If I don¡¯t eat fast enough, I¡¯m afraid I might just be buried under it.


    I can¡¯t imagine that she has stores enough of food to afford this feast, so the months to come will get rough, but I don¡¯t see anyone else sparing a moments concern over the thought. I don¡¯t think that the proprietor will regret it even if she starves through the next winter.


    The coming harvests should prevent that I suppose, but the honey and oil isn¡¯t so easily replaced.


    When the first patrons start passing out, from the food, booze, or both, others, drawn in by the sounds of celebrations wander in and take their seats. The tables are never left bereft of food for long, if at all, and as the owner¡¯s cooking spree continues, her loud voice fills the room with song.


    ¡°The fae will steal your children~


    ¡°They¡¯ll take your gold and your copper too~


    ¡°When you think they¡¯re done,


    ¡°And that they¡¯ve had their fun~


    ¡°Your teeth too, they¡¯ll take from you~


    Her infectious joy spreads to many of the others who join in with the singing, some drunken, others well on their way.


    ¡°The fae will steal your children!¡± Spreads loud, amidst the joyous laughter of the other patrons. I¡¯m not sure how many even understand the reason for the song and celebration, the feast a reason enough for them.


    This is a chance to celebrate life, and distract themselves from the future to come. As the alcohol starts burning in my gut, dizzying my mind, I reach down for my bag. It rattles slightly as I accidentally hit it too hard.


    It¡¯s still with me.


    ¡°I¡¯m stuffed.¡± Fate says, wiping the honey and butter from her cheeks. She stretches as she stands up from her chair. ¡°Thanks for the meal! What¡¯s the charge?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s on the house!¡± The proprietor says with a broad smile. ¡°Today, everything is on the house.¡±


    Even more cheers erupt around the room as we take our leave.


    ~Fate


    ¡°What¡¯s bothering you?¡± I ask Hope as we leave the tavern, heading out towards the markets. Hopefully there¡¯ll still be someone around with some apples, I did promise Shadow that I¡¯d get something.


    ¡°What? It¡¯s nothing.¡± She replies, looking between the townsfolk and shivering slightly.


    ¡°You thought they were going to chase us with torches and pitchforks. Is that still playing on your mind?¡± I ask, brushing my hair back. From all the days events so far, it¡¯s turned to a mess. My glasses help to hold the hair down on either side but it¡¯s not enough.


    I really should just tie it up.


    ¡°They each reacted so differently.¡± She finally says. ¡°The father is mourning the loss of his child, but the mother is celebrating that the child gets to live. Sara¡¯s mother is¡­ desperately trying to have faith that the gods will reunite her with Sara.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s people for you. There¡¯s a different perspective for everything. A tragedy to one person, to another might seem a blessing.¡± I say, finding a basket filled with fresh apples on the side of the street. It isn¡¯t so much a market stall like in the cities, though there are some talkative ladies in a knitting circle a little away.


    ¡°Hi, I¡¯d like an apple. Who am I trading with?¡± I ask them.


    ¡°That¡¯s me.¡± An older lady strides over, retaining a measure more dignity in her steps than most women her age. ¡°You¡¯re the girls who¡¯ve been running about after that boy, aren¡¯t you? Quite the incident that was. To think the fae took him.¡±


    ¡°An incident, for sure.¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m glad it wasn¡¯t a sad ending to it all.¡±


    ¡°A perfectly imperfect ending.¡± She says, nodding slowly. ¡°The best we could ever have hoped for this side of the lovers meeting. So, how many apples would you like? For that horse of yours, are they?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a good guess.¡± I say. ¡°Leaving him in the stables makes him a bit grumpy, but an apple should cheer him up a bit.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d suggest a few for the road ahead.¡± She says. ¡°The mountains make for a rough journey, and it¡¯s going to get cold. A horse as fine as yours deserves a little treat if he¡¯s going to be taking you through there.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t deny it, but I¡¯m not sure if I can afford it.¡± I reply. ¡°What sort of trade were you looking for?¡±


    ¡°I was hoping for a favour actually. A delivery for my daughter who lives in a small town over the mountains. I can¡¯t make the journey myself, and I¡¯m not sure if she¡¯s coming this way again. I¡¯d like to send her a letter and a package.¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s the town?¡±


    ¡°First stop the other side of the mountain. The town is called Icebreak. It can get pretty cold over there so do prepare properly for the journey.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve got some winter clothes and blankets ready.¡± I say, ¡°You¡¯ll have the package and letter ready by tomorrow morning?¡±


    ¡°You leave at the break of day?¡± She asks. ¡°I¡¯ll deliver it to the inn.¡±


    ¡°It might be best if I pick it up directly. The innkeeper isn¡¯t his best right now, I¡¯d rather not bother him with any more responsibilities.¡± I say, thinking back to his desperate expression earlier.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be out here, then.¡± The older lady says with a nod. ¡°Take what apples you think makes for a fair compensation.¡±


    I laugh a little at her offer. It¡¯s not the sort of quandary you¡¯ll experience as a merchant in the city, but to these townsfolk, respect and trust is everything. She likely wouldn¡¯t stop me if I took them all, by tomorrow no one would be talking to me.


    More savage than the city merchants in some ways.


    I take three of the worse looking apples and wave my goodbye. The lady smiles and nods towards me before returning her attention to whatever topic her circle is discussing.


    ¡°I¡¯m not good with people like you are.¡± Hope says rather suddenly. ¡°When I try to do nice things, it never ends this well. That¡¯s why this is strange to me.¡±


    ¡°Is that so?¡± I ask, looking up to her rather distant eyes. She looked far prettier gazing out over the horizon from that lookout, but her current expression still manages to make my heart squeeze in a different, painful, sort of way.


    ¡°I¡¯m happy to be travelling with you, too.¡± I say, straightening my gaze to the road ahead though I can feel her turning and looking at me instead. ¡°Things didn¡¯t work out perfectly, but they never do. I¡¯m glad for your company.¡±


    She eventually turns her gaze away from me again, and we quietly return to the stables, where Shadow snorts in welcome. He¡¯s not happy, but he never really is.


    The apples do improve his spirits some, though not as much when I promise him that we¡¯ll be leaving tomorrow. He¡¯s not the kind of horse to like being cooped up for long.


    Full from the feast and tired from all the days events, we soon retire to our room.


    There isn¡¯t much sleep to be found tonight, with both the innkeepers drunken sobbing and the roaring tavern across the way, but I don¡¯t really feel a need to complain about it. It stirs in me a certain uncomfortable desperation.


    A question that doesn¡¯t even need to be asked.


    ¡°How do think our story ends?¡± I ask, turning from the ceiling and rolling over towards Hope.


    ¡°Crushing defeat.¡± She says. ¡°Buried beneath two moons worth of rubble and forgotten by whatever gods are real.¡±


    ¡°Is that really okay to you?¡± I ask, pressing on my chest to try to keep my emotions in check.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think it really matters but since you asked, yes. I¡¯ve been prepared for the end since¡­¡± her hand trails down to the bag at her side of the bed. ¡°Since a long time ago.¡±


    ¡°I want to live.¡± I say, ¡°I don¡¯t want to die.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t get that choice.¡± She replies, meeting my eyes. ¡°We only get to choose how we die.¡±


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll die trying my best to live.¡± I whisper, but in my ears, I can hear the man sobbing in the room beneath us. The taverns raucous cheer simply can¡¯t hide the sound.


    I reach out for Hope, she¡¯s warm and smells a little like flowers.

 Chapter 11 ~ Snow

    ~Hope


    There¡¯s any number of tricks to weathering the snow, but all of them come down to the simple concept of getting warm and staying warm. A hot fire will get you warm while a good woollen blanket will keep you that way.


    When in the wilds trying to weather the snow, you do anything you can to stay warm, so it¡¯s no surprise that Fate and I are huddled up together in the back of the wagon under as many blankets as we could find.


    After much struggling we were able to solidify the position of the cloth tent over the back of the cart, but that achieves little more than keeping the snow off of us. The cold wind cuts right through it.


    This morning, even though the sun is clearly rising on the horizon, I can¡¯t find the inspiration to rise from my warm position, and from Fate¡¯s shifting about, I can tell she¡¯s in the same mindset, only pretending to be asleep.


    Over the past many nights which we spent crossing the mountain pass, I¡¯ve grown somewhat used to her company. Which essentially means that I¡¯m not stiffening up at her every touch, and that sleeping beside her has become a slightly less awkward affair.


    Her wandering hands are a little more difficult to get used to.


    ¡°I¡¯m hungry.¡± She moans, shifting about and giving up her act. Her stomach growls proving her admission is no lie.


    ¡°Then eat something.¡± I say, still clinging to her warm back. When one of us moves, we¡¯re going to be stuck dealing with the cold for the rest of the miserable day.


    ¡°I want something warm.¡± She says, groaning. ¡°A warm breakfast soup, or a hot loaf of bread with butter melting over it.¡±


    ¡°If you sit on your biscuit, it¡¯ll defrost a little.¡± I say.


    ¡°That¡¯s gross. I¡¯m not going to do that.¡± She says.


    ¡°Then warm it up in your hands.¡± I say.


    ¡°Then my hands will get cold.¡± She replies.


    ¡°Then give it to Shadow, I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll eat it.¡±


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll still be hungry.¡± She moans.


    Sufficed to say neither of us has bothered to move yet, the biscuits we¡¯re speaking of are purely hypothetical. A thing beyond reach, the other side of a freezing cold abyss, where fingers turn blue and numbness consumes all feeling.


    ¡°We should get up.¡± Fate says, her voice muffled.


    ¡°We should.¡± I agree, remaining still, waiting for her to make the first move. I¡¯m not going to be blamed for this, she¡¯s going to be the one ruining our morning by getting up, not me.


    ¡°Argh, fine.¡± Fate groans, pulling away. ¡°Time to get to work. We have a world to save, and an adventure ahead of us.¡±


    ¡°Sounds fun. Perhaps we can dance with the gods and travel among the stars after we¡¯re done.¡± I say, stifling a yawn.


    ¡°Are you speaking more than usual this morning?¡± She asks, pausing as she glares at the frozen biscuit. I¡¯ve heard it called hardtack before, though this one is laced with nuts of a rock-like consistency, and fruits that no one can recognise. Everything you need in a breakfast, but not a thing more.


    ¡°You think?¡± I ask, touching my bag before I start dressing in my winter clothes now that their stint as a winter blanket is done. It¡¯s not that we don¡¯t have a proper blanket, but there is no such thing as too many.


    ¡°Yeah, am I finally growing on you?¡± She asks. ¡°You¡¯re becoming more than just a stoic travel companion, you¡¯re a friend, someone to confide in. We can joke around with each other.¡±


    ¡°Growing on me? Would that make you my first wart?¡± I say, turning to the door of the tent. Pulling back the leather flaps, and letting the wind blow in.


    It¡¯s not too terribly cold, there¡¯s only a fine layer of snow over the road, and only a few clumps remain here and there on the roadside and at the bases of trees. Spending so much time in the deserts has ruined my constitution, if this weather feels numbing.


    ¡°You think the town will have any hot food?¡± Fate asks, pulling down the tent, shivering as she lays the poles down. I fold the canvas, shaking out the little snow that clings to the uneven, moth eaten material.


    ¡°Maybe, but do you really want to waste the money?¡± I ask. I¡¯ve rarely spent more than I have to since I started my life on this side of the world, and even then I¡¯ve barely been scraping by.


    ¡°Waste?¡± Fate asks. ¡°I want hot food. I¡¯m willing to pay for hot food. That is called a transaction, not a waste.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll be waste when it¡¯s clogging up a latrine on the ¡®morrow.¡± I say.


    ¡°That¡¯s disgusting.¡± Fate replies, ¡°And it¡¯s still not a waste. We¡¯re both going to have a nice meal, and I don¡¯t want any of that potty talk at the table.¡±


    ¡°What table?¡± I ask, waving out at the vast landscape. We¡¯re moving downhill, and I can vaguely make out something that might be a town a long way down the road from here, but it¡¯ll be lunch at the earliest before we arrive.


    ¡°It¡¯s waiting for us, Hope. Just believe.¡± Fate says, meeting my eyes, her own glimmering bright enough that I can almost make out my own reflection.


    ¡°I¡¯ll leave that to you.¡± I say, brushing the snow off of my part of the bench. Shadow has his head down, snuggled into his oversized horse blanket like a kid hiding under layers of bedding. Or like me and Fate a few minutes ago.


    ¡°Shadow, we¡¯re moving.¡± Fate says, ¡°Do you want the blanket on or off?¡±


    ¡°Does he actually understand you, or¡­?¡±


    Shadow lifts his head and gives her a big snort.


    ¡°On?¡± Fate asks, ¡°You¡¯re going to change your mind in an hour when you get all sweaty, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    Shadow nods, uncaring about Fates frustration as she gives up and starts hooking him back up to the cart. The blanket has been designed to allow for it, which just makes me wonder what is with this horse, and just what was Fate using him for before all of this.


    We¡¯re off and rolling in a few minutes, slowly making our way down the snowy slopes towards the town below.


    While a warm meal sounds tempting, I¡¯m already loathing our arrival at town. It¡¯s sure to be filled with people.


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


    ~Fate


    The town is bright and lively, all sorts of folks young and old are out on the streets as they brush away the last vestiges of winter. A few kids playing with the last of the white snow left, as the adults busy themselves with small talk and rumours.


    Whatever work this town prides itself on, it seems that today is an off day. It doesn¡¯t seem to be a celebration or a party, but I can hardly see a single person working. The markets have only a few goods on show and it seems more a place for common folks to gather and talk, rather than a place for merchants.


    I suppose when traders are so rare the markets are just this sort of affair. I haven¡¯t visited too many towns like this so I can¡¯t really say I have the experience to know.


    A young man approaches our wagon, a bright smile on his face.


    ¡°You¡¯re a merchant?¡± He asks. ¡°A little late, most those that are coming through for the season are already long gone.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m Fate and this is Hope, we¡¯re new to the area.¡± I say, ¡°We¡¯re heading a long way and I thought it would do me good to trade a few things on the way through.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m Jake, it¡¯s a pleasure to meet you.¡± He says. ¡°Are you after anyone or anything?¡±


    ¡°I have a delivery for a Missy Nulens, if you know where she is?¡± I say.


    ¡°A delivery for Missy? From her mother I¡¯m guessing.¡± He nods knowingly. ¡°She¡¯s been waiting for that, we were worried that her mother might¡¯ve¡­ well it¡¯s good to know she¡¯s still well. Missy¡¯s just over that way, the prettiest woman in town, the one with red hair.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± I say, ¡°Is there a place here that sells hot food this time of day?¡±


    ¡°Taverns always got something hot, and a barrel of ale tapped.¡± He says happily. ¡°Can¡¯t weather the cold otherwise.¡±


    ¡°Is there some celebration going on?¡± I ask, ¡°The town¡¯s rather, well, not busy.¡±


    ¡°That.¡± He says with a laugh. ¡°Years ago we all agreed to store up enough food and goods to last us through. Is there a celebration? This is the last year, we¡¯ll celebrate until the end, only working when we have to.¡±


    ¡°Huh, that sounds like some fine planning.¡± I say. ¡°Well, I¡¯ll be out looking for trade tomorrow. So come find us if you have something for trade.


    He says an easy goodbye as I head out towards Missy. I look over at Hope but she¡¯s been rather quiet ever since we¡¯ve come to town. Over the past couple of weeks, she¡¯s really warmed up to me, but it seems she¡¯s still the same person she was before.


    It makes me wonder who she is. Sometimes she holds herself the way a noble would, but then she¡¯s sitting there complaining about wasting money on hot food. Her stiff back and distant gaze certainly matches that of a noble taken to the wrong part of town, trying to pretend that they don¡¯t see the stinking peasants.


    ¡°What is it?¡± she asks, noticing my gaze.


    ¡°Just thought you looked pretty today.¡± I say, compliments are always a nice thing to say when you have nothing better to say.


    She turns away from me, subtly hiding her face from me. She really is rather innocent at the strangest times.


    ¡°Missy.¡± I say calling out to the red headed girl. She is rather pretty, but even then that young man was clearly going a little overboard. ¡°I have a delivery from your mother.¡±


    ¡°From mother?¡± she asks, turning to face us. ¡°I was worried when nothing came with the usual merchants that came through. Did something happen?¡±


    ¡°If it did she didn¡¯t say.¡± I reply, pulling out a soft scarf, with a letter on top. ¡°There was a bit of a fuss with the fairies taking children, but that was already after most of the merchants left.¡±


    ¡°Thank you for bringing news then. It¡¯s relieving to know she¡¯s well.¡± She says. ¡°I can spare you a coin for the delivery.¡±


    ¡°Your mother already paid.¡± I say, gently refusing. She nods her head gratefully, hesitantly opening her mouth to say something more, but pausing.


    She finds the courage to speak as I¡¯m about to beg away so I can get something to eat.


    ¡°Do you¡­ do you have any Fenris leaf?¡± She asks, the words forced out through great effort. ¡°I¡­ I can pay.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t have any, nor anything that would work as substitute.¡± I say, hesitantly. ¡°You don¡¯t have a local herbalist?¡±


    ¡°No¡­ he passed not long ago.¡± She says, shaking her head sadly, before her expression brightens again as the young man from earlier comes over.


    ¡°My lovely, your mother is still well, then?¡± He asks.


    ¡°She is.¡± Missy says, pulling the scarf out to show him. ¡°She even made this for me. She said she was making it for winter, but it must¡¯ve taken her a little longer to see it finished.¡±


    ¡°It looks lovely.¡± He says, ¡°Not the best gift for spring, but it¡¯ll be nice for when the next winter comes.¡±


    She nods happily, leaning in and hugging the young man.


    ¡°We¡¯ll be taking our leave then.¡± I say, trying to keep my smile up as I turn away.


    A cold wind still runs through the streets, stirring up the little snow that¡¯s drifting from the skies. High up in the mountains, I see dark clouds stirring. It seems a storm is coming.


    ¡°What¡¯s Fenris leaf?¡± Hope asks quietly. She¡¯s still overcautious of the villagers that we pass.


    ¡°Herbalists use it for a number of concoctions, but it¡¯s most common to brew it as tea. Even those not knowledgeable in medicines know what to do with it.¡± I say. ¡°If you¡¯re carrying a child, it can help in¡­ taking away the burden.¡±


    ¡°Ah¡­¡± Hope looks back at the woman, happily flirting with the young man that seems to be her lover. The pair look so happy.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get shadow into the inn¡¯s stable and something warm to eat.¡± I suggest, getting us rolling towards the inn.


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ okay.¡± She nods quietly, huddling up from the cold wind.


    ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


    ~Hope


    ¡°There¡¯s wood by the fireplace, feel free to use it as you want.¡± The innkeeper says, leading us around his inn.


    ¡°Yes, but what¡¯s the charge for staying the night?¡±


    ¡°Think nothing of it.¡± He says with a smile, sipping the last of his tea. ¡°There¡¯s a storm coming down from the mountains, you might have to stay longer than a day so it¡¯s best to show you where everything is.¡±


    He shows us to his food cellar that is surprisingly full considering winters just ended. There¡¯s plenty of firewood beside the fireplace. Shadow is being kept in a rather nice stable with more feed than a horse should probably be fed.


    The innkeeper is suspiciously nice. I¡¯ll have to keep an eye on him. We don¡¯t know what he¡¯s really up to.


    ¡°We¡¯re heading out to the tavern, then.¡± Fate says offering the man a friendly wave.


    ¡°Say hello to Freddy for me, he¡¯s usually around those parts.¡± The old innkeeper says, waving us away. ¡°I¡¯ll probably be asleep by the time you girls get back, so just leave me napping in my chair, and a good evening to you both.¡±


    ¡°Enjoy your rest.¡± Fate says with a laugh, ¡°A man of your age deserves some uninterrupted sleep.¡±


    ¡°Finally, some of you young folk that actually understand.¡± He says with a laugh and a final wave goodbye as he heads over to the fireplace and the rather nice leather chair beside it.


    ¡°Now, we¡¯ve waited long enough, let¡¯s get something to eat.¡± Fate says, pulling me out the door and towards the tavern.


    The dark clouds on the distant horizon threaten the calm that currently fills town, and the cold only worsens as the afternoon drifts closer towards night.


    The food is warm and pleasant, and the owner is rather happy to accept coins, adding them to a tall tower that she¡¯s making in a corner of the room. By the look of it she¡¯s making a game out of it, building the tower of gold and silver as tall as she can without letting it fall.


    ¡°Quite the storm rolling in. Looks to be a blizzard, a late one considering the season.¡± The old man named Freddy says wriggling his mustache cheerfully. ¡°Even the weather wants to try something different this close to the end.¡±


    ¡°A blizzard?¡± Fate asks, ever the socialising type.


    ¡°A nasty one, I think. The town will be snowed in for a week if pains in my hip aren¡¯t lying to me.¡±


    ¡°Your hip can tell the weather?¡± She asks, taken aback.


    ¡°That it can.¡± He chuckles at her while downing another ale. ¡°You¡¯re staying at the inn? You might want to make sure the fire stays hot tonight, that rickety old building can¡¯t keep out the cold quite like it used to.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll take note of that.¡± She says, directing the conversation back towards empty pointless chatter. I don¡¯t understand how people like her can always find something to talk about, and I understand even less as to why they bother.


    Putting away the warm meal, I wait patiently for Fate to be done. There are too many people crammed into this room, stinking up the air with their sweat, and odour, but it¡¯s still better than the cold outside.


    We head back to the inn before the storm fully makes itself known, darkening the sunset.


    The inn is quiet when we arrive, the crackling of the fireplace the only sound to be heard. The old man is sleeping in his chair by the fire, a blanket warming his lap.


    We leave him be, as per his request, but I don¡¯t take my eyes off of him. He doesn¡¯t seem to be trying to trick us, at least.


    Missy and Jake come in a little after us, apparently staying in the inn tonight to take care of things that the old man running it can¡¯t handle. They offer us smiles and polite words, but Missy is rather more subdued through it all and we quickly retire to our rooms.


    The building is engineered such that the warmth from the fireplace heats our room, but it¡¯s still rather cold inside. Between the blankets and the company it¡¯s only just better than sleeping in the wagon.


    The blizzard rolls in through the night and has settled itself over this little town come morning. The outside world seems filled with snow, and frigid cold has seeped into this old building.


    The fire has died overnight, but the old man still slumbers, indifferent to the cold.


    ¡°He¡¯s gone.¡± Missy says, leaning over the fires and trying to stoke a flame. ¡°He passed away through the night.¡±


    The blizzard roars outside, the snow blinding, and the cold leaching the warmth from the world.

 Chapter 12 ~ Making a List

    ~Fate


    The chilling cold wind stirs up the snow that¡¯s drifting down from the skies, and if my eyes aren¡¯t lying to me, then it¡¯ll be bringing much more down from the mountains soon. It¡¯s all a little much, but the cold does wake me up, when I eventually crawl from bed.


    Though the cold corpse was enough of a shock for this morning.


    The rest of the town huddles inside the warm tavern away from the wind. The fireplace is roaring and the heat spreads pleasantly through the room, partly because of how everyone sits shoulder to shoulder. Us being the only strangers, it¡¯s pleasantly welcoming to be treated the same.


    All the unpleasantness of the icy chill that clings to us is washed away in moments of the door closing behind us.


    ¡°How much for a good warm meal this morning?¡± I ask a passing waitress, a young woman who spends most of her time chatting rather than serving food.


    In the city she¡¯d be dressed down by the owner and customers both, but it¡¯s clear that this isn¡¯t that sort of establishment. Things here are more casual and uncaring, which is what makes it that much more pleasant.


    ¡°Ah, none of that.¡± She says, ¡°You¡¯re our guests through this blizzard. So long as you¡¯re not gnawing on the pillars that keep the roof up, no one¡¯s going to mind. The owners struggling to keep the gold and silver tower from falling already.¡±


    The towers of coins she waves to have already fallen, and some of the locals are making a game out of seeing who can stack them the highest with the tower collapsing.


    ¡°We have a nice morning soup heated up, some biscuit on the side. That work for you two?¡±


    I try not to groan at hearing the word biscuit. Travel rations by any other name¡­ That said, it wouldn¡¯t do to be rude. I give her a polite nod and a smile as she squeezes through the crush to get our food for us.


    ¡°You hate biscuit that much?¡± Hope asks, looking me in the eyes as she shuffles away from the other locals and towards me. She¡¯s a bit bony, but I won¡¯t complain.


    ¡°Is it that obvious?¡± I ask, I was trying to not be rude if they can read my expression¡­ I¡¯ll have to make sure I have a proper smile on when our food comes.


    ¡°A little.¡± She says, quieting as the meals arrive. The hardened biscuit beside the soup seems little more appetising than slabs of stone.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± I say to the waitress as she hurries back to the conversation she¡¯s been missing out on. If she noticed my expressions, she doesn¡¯t seem to care too much about it.


    Hope snickers as I start soaking the biscuit in my soup. She¡¯s doing the same, so I don¡¯t really see what¡¯s so funny.


    ¡°Your sour expression.¡± She answers without me needing to ask.


    ¡°You know, I¡¯m starting to see the charm in your quiet stoicism now.¡± I say, chewing on the barely softened stone.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure.¡± She replies, a faint smile on her lips that soon fades away as we overhear the topic of conversation among the locals.


    ¡°To Luther, he had a good run. If this damn blizzard didn¡¯t come through, maybe he¡¯d be with us all the way to the end.¡± Jake says, taking a long drink from his mug. Missy leans against his side, looking rather upset.


    ¡°Are you sure it was the cold that finished him?¡± An older lady asks, sipping at some tea over by the fireside.


    ¡°What else could it be?¡± Jake asks, ¡°The fire was out, and he was practically frozen. I¡­ I never thought that the old man could die, even when the lovers do kiss I could imagine him crawling up out of the mess just to start fixing everything up.¡±


    That earned him a few chuckles.


    ¡°Unlike you lot, he wasn¡¯t such a pervert.¡± Freddy says, chuckling to himself. ¡°He¡¯s not so keen to be watching those gods go smashing parts in our skies. The old fart just wanted to give the pair some privacy.¡±


    ¡°You say that like you¡¯re not an old fart too, Freddy.¡± The older lady says.


    ¡°Says the old, pickled raisin.¡± Freddy replies.


    The old man doesn¡¯t at all look like I¡¯d expect from a man whose friend just died, but then again, everyone¡¯s a bit out of sorts this year. No one here is excluded.


    ¡°Settle down, settle down.¡± The waitress says, chuckling at the older pair as their argument get¡¯s louder, though no more serious.


    ¡°Old Luther is gone, but I remember at our last meeting he told us he made it through his last list-¡±


    ¡°Lovers¡¯ list!¡± Jake shouts.


    ¡°Nah, sounds stupid. It¡¯s the death list.¡±


    ¡°The imperfect list.¡±


    ¡°The ¡®everything and everyone I want to do before I die¡¯ list.¡± An older gentleman shouts.


    ¡°Good luck crossing anything off that list with that kind of talk.¡± A younger lady cries back, laughing at his crude humour.


    ¡°Whatever you want to call it!¡± The waitress shouts, taking back control of the scene. ¡°Luther finished his, he did everything he wanted to do before he left us, and we should follow his example. What else have you lot crossed off of your lists?¡±


    ¡°I painted a rainbow.¡± A young lad says, ¡°It isn¡¯t very good, but I did still paint it.¡±


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    ¡°Why does it have brown in it?¡± A young girl by his side asks.


    ¡°Rainbows have every colour in them. I just made the brown a bit too wide.¡± He says, pouting and turning aside. ¡°I said it wasn¡¯t very good.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a lovely painting.¡± The waitress says, taking it off his hands. It¡¯s a fine enough painting, though it certainly wouldn¡¯t sell at a market or anything.


    ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


    ~Hope


    That paint could be wasted in such a painful attempt at ¡®art¡¯ is something that can only be forgiven by the fact that it¡¯ll be erased before a full year can pass. Even most children should be able to at least get the colours in the right order, but this¡­


    I have to look away before it damages my eyes. My sister did warn me that looking at ugly things can take your sight away, and if anything can do it, I¡¯m sure this boy¡¯s negligent attempt at art surely can. A weapon by any decent respects, though it seems most here are immune to its effects.


    I turn Fate¡¯s head away from the sight, saving her from further injury. She doesn¡¯t seem to get it, but looks at me queerly with an amused smile.


    The stinking, sweaty crowd of peasants continues to discuss what it is that they¡¯ve done and what they still want to do. One middle aged man wants to bathe in honey, like some rich, noble maiden preparing for her wedding day, while I find it rather offensive that they understand the concept of bathing but for some reason have decided to entirely forgo the simplicities of a cleansing bath in water.


    Others are just happy to learn how to sing without the effort inspiring their neighbours towards murder. Though unfortunately, from the sample screeches they then provide, I have to assume that their solution to the problem was to strike their neighbours deaf.


    I don¡¯t get it.


    The sticky sensation of bathing in honey? Learning to sing without offending even the tone deaf birds? Wasting expensive paints in an act of vandalism against a perfectly fine canvas?


    Why bother?


    Why care?


    We¡¯ll all be dead in a year¡¯s time and everything we¡¯ve done will be taken from us. These experiences, these thoughts, these piles of gold, and weaponised art. It¡¯ll all be gone, every effort wasted, and happy memory lost, struck down all at once by the horny gods in the sky.


    I just don¡¯t get it.


    ¡°Are you feeling alright?¡± Fate asks, nudging at me with her toes under the table.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± I reply, taking a deep breath and recentering myself. I have one last task. One last thing to do. They have their stupid lists, and it seems I have my own, though it¡¯s rather shorter.


    ¡°How about some drinks?¡± She suggests, taking my mug before I can reply and squeezing out towards the barrels on tap.


    I pull my bag closer to me, sitting it on my lap. The sounds of the tavern drift further away, or really, I¡¯m the one drifting. I just want it all to be over already. Why does it have to be one more year?


    Why can¡¯t it be sooner?


    ¡°Why was I the one¡­¡± I shake my head before the thought can finish.


    ¡°Here, warm spiced mead.¡± Fate says, placing the drink on the table as she shuffles in beside me. Her gaze falls to my bag for a second.


    She clearly understands it¡¯s important to me. I haven¡¯t really been hiding it, but I¡¯m glad she hasn¡¯t pressed the issue or tried to look inside.


    ¡°Let¡¯s drink.¡± Fate says, her bright eyes looking up. Somehow even now she can see a bright future.


    It¡¯s a lie, and I know that she knows it too, but somehow that lie brings to life a smile more genuine than any I¡¯ve ever seen.


    Tentatively, I reach for the drink.


    ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


    ~Fate


    The blizzard has truly come down over this spring town, but the cold can¡¯t take away the warmth from the fires and the drinks. The warmth the people here have burning in their hearts.


    Never before has a blizzard in spring felt so much like spring. The weather bringing everyone together and drawing out smiles and happiness, where in other years it would make the most cheerful of men grumpy for the aches and frost.


    ¡°I¡­ I think I drank¡­ too much¡­¡± Hope says, stumbling along beside me, with that precious bag of hers clutched protectively at her side. She never does let it go, a burden she carries everywhere, always mindful of it and never really setting it down.


    ¡°It was fun, though.¡± I say.


    After her last drink, Hope was even joining in on the singing, but I¡¯m not sure she¡¯ll remember it by morning. Her voice, even when plastered, is surprisingly clear and beautiful, I could almost swear that she¡¯s been trained by a minstrel or some other master of the craft.


    Missy gets the door for us as we arrive at the inn, the fireplace roaring and lighting up the room.


    ¡°It¡¯s cold out there.¡± Missy says the obvious with a bright smile, leading us over to the fire. I hesitate only a moment before following. Our room isn¡¯t going to be quite as warm, or pleasant as it is down here, and they did invite us.


    ¡°The other rooms are fine, if a bit cold.¡± Jake says, coming down the stairs to join us. ¡°Luther is¡­ resting in the celler. There¡¯s plenty of snow and I don¡¯t think he¡¯s going anywhere on us.¡±


    ¡°I hope not.¡± Missy says, smiling as she greets her lover. ¡°I don¡¯t know what I¡¯d say if he sees that I¡¯ve taken his favourite chair. You¡¯d probably have to fend him off.¡±


    The pair settle down as l lead Hope down onto the couch beside me, she isn¡¯t completely out of it, and I think her head will clear up before she passes out, but her balance is rather awful.


    ¡°Do you two have a list?¡± Jake asks, adding a little more fuel to the flames. ¡°You¡¯re both travelling the world, right?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m travelling to an ancient ruin.¡± I say, sitting up straight. ¡°The old civilisations knew of the lovers kiss, and¡­ well in short, I want to save the world.¡±


    Saying it just makes the room feel a little brighter, even knowing that they won¡¯t believe me. I¡¯d like to convince them, to prove it to them, but I know it¡¯s impossible.


    The doubts come crawling into the back of my mind, but I shake them loose before they can settle in.


    ¡°Save the world?¡± Missy says, leaning forwards, her eyes shining. ¡°Do you think it¡¯s possible?¡±


    ¡°Well, just wait for it and you¡¯ll see for yourself.¡± I say.


    ¡°It¡¯d be a little sad to keep the lovers apart.¡± Jake chuckles but Missy jabs him in the side. A little too hard it seems as he chokes while holding his side.


    ¡°What about you?¡± Missy asks Hope directly. I turn my attention to her wondering how she¡¯s going to reply.


    ¡°I have one thing.¡± She says, ¡°Fate is helping me with it. I need to find somewhere beautiful. A natural landscape that¡¯s just¡­ beautiful. I¡¯ll know it when I see it.¡±


    ¡°The foundation of a great adventure.¡± Missy says, smiling happily. ¡°I¡¯d love to hear it all the way through, but¡­ well when you save the world, you can write a book about it.¡±


    Her eagerness doesn¡¯t seem to come from belief, but she too wants to have hope. She wants to grasp that same future as I do.


    ¡°What about you two?¡± I ask, and Missy quickly pulls back, getting deathly quiet as she turns her gaze to the fires.


    ¡°Just the usual.¡± Jake says, the smile on his face a stiff one. ¡°I mean there is one thing I wanted to try of a night-time, but Missy was rather adamantly against it. Something about the road being only one way?¡±


    If the last strike was a nudge, this one was a full body blow. Jake wheezes painfully as he clutches his side, still gritting his teeth and smiling as he sits back up, pretending as though nothing happened.


    ¡°In front of a stranger?!¡± Missy hisses, her glare bringing the temperature in the room up by a few degrees.


    ¡°They did ask.¡± He says, with a somewhat pained laugh. ¡°You¡¯re always telling me I should be more honest.¡±


    ¡°Not this honest!¡±


    The two continue to argue for a while, but the atmosphere from before doesn¡¯t return, and we settle into a quieter conversation. The two are quite interested in the city, and what it¡¯s like being a merchant, but I only give them the more interesting stories, only a few fabricated.


    They also talk about themselves and their lives here. They clearly aren¡¯t anyone special, their lives ordinary, so much so that they¡¯re not bothered to travel anywhere else before the end.


    At some point Hope drifts away, leaning against my side as she sleeps. Missy gets us some blankets and I get comfortable by the fireside.


    The warmth of the fireplace draws me towards sleep as the blizzard roars outside, it¡¯s cold unwelcome here in this place of pleasant dreams.

 Chapter 13 ~ The Fireside in a Snowstorm

    The warm fire flickers before me as I slowly ease myself from the darkness of my dreams. Heat radiates from the fireplace, washing over my body, but it¡¯s the more gentle, comforting warmth that steals my attention.


    I¡¯m lying on Fate¡¯s lap, her hand resting on my shoulder as she stares into the flames.


    The storms wrath still beats down on this little building, howling and raging like the most vicious of wolves. It forever starves, it devours all warmth but no matter how much it consumes it still hungers. The walls and the fires can keep it at bay, but nothing can ever defeat it.


    It¡¯s been a long time since I¡¯ve last hidden away from this beast. The familiar chill of it somehow more freezing than the deserts cold nights, drawing back memories of a time lost to me.


    A lonely castle, an angry King and an absent queen. A loving older sister.


    Raging fires burned through that blizzard, chasing us from our home. It was the cold that protected us back then, the hungering wolf blinding the rioters and numbing the burns.


    I release a breath I didn¡¯t know I was holding.


    Just another memory that will be gone when the world ends. More pointless deaths and meaningless struggles, momentary passions that satisfied a few and terrified more.


    When this is all over, even the stone foundation of that castle will be buried and gone. Forgotten by all the gods that we¡¯ve dreamed up.


    ¡°Are you awake?¡± Fate asks, her face leaning down over mine. She hovers close enough that I feel her warm breath wash over me, sweet from flowery tea. It seems the wolf isn¡¯t the only one hungering.


    I stare past her and towards the fireplace, and she sits up brushing at my hair. She shifts her legs around under my head, I don¡¯t know how long we¡¯ve been like this but it couldn¡¯t be comfortable for so long, but when I try to move, she holds me still.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine. Just moving my legs around to get some blood flow back.¡± She says, and I settle back down.


    I¡¯m still not sure what to think of her. Of us. Of everything.


    In the night, when the light is gone, her touch is too tempting to ignore. A comfort and a pleasure that¡­ I¡¯ve never really known before.


    I¡¯ve been alone for so long now, and her warm touch in this icy blizzard isn¡¯t something that I can refuse, even though I know I should. I belong out there in the cold, trudging through the snow, and fighting off the frost. Freezing to death, looking only to see my one last task done.


    Instead, I¡¯m here. I wish it didn¡¯t feel so sweet.


    I can only close my eyes and pretend that this fireplace entombed inside of a snowstorm is apart from the real world.


    Time is lost to us here. The sun, if it¡¯s even risen, is hidden by dark clouds and thick snow still falling, it¡¯s passage as distant to us as Sanguine is from Cerulean. We count not in hours or minutes, but instead in blocks of firewood disappearing from the stack. A pile large enough to count us down all the way to summer if need be.


    ¡°I need a moment to tend to some private things.¡± Fate says, shuffling her legs under me. ¡°I should also check on Shadow, too.¡±


    I sit up, and she quickly races off towards the toilet, while Missy chuckles at us. Jake is sitting beside her, sleeping fitfully with a blanket tucked up under his chin. He looks tired, in more than just one way.


    ¡°What¡¯s between you two?¡± Missy asks, speaking in a stage whisper. The roaring blizzard outside an unpleasant audience we can¡¯t rid ourselves of.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± I ask, knowing exactly what she means. I pull my own borrowed blanket close and stare into the fires, pretending that I belong here.


    ¡°You two, you¡¯re close.¡± Missy asks. ¡°Is it, you know, like that? I¡¯ve heard it¡¯s a thing among the fancy nobles and rich city folk, I¡¯m not judging or anything. I¡¯ve just never met anyone who¡­ you know?¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± I can¡¯t put words to an answer. I still don¡¯t even know what relationship is building between us. Not really.


    To Fate, I¡¯m a companion, a warm body in the night, a person nearby to keep the silence at bay. Her delusions of a heroic quest to save the world are nothing if there¡¯s no one around to hear them, no one there to shake their heads in disbelief at her silliness.


    ¡°Do you love each other? Or are you just like friends, or something?¡± She asks, her eyes shining bright. A new piece of gossip to share with the town, delighting her greatly, but she seems earnest enough, unlike the other noble girls that I remember speaking with over tea.


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ companionship.¡± I say, sighing long and slow. ¡°If I didn¡¯t cross her path, she¡¯d have found someone else to bring with her on her adventure. We¡¯re both heading the same direction is all it is. There¡¯s not really anything more to it.¡±


    ¡°I was the one to clean your sheets.¡± Missy chuckles, ¡°There is a little more to it, no?¡±


    I can pretend that the warmth in my cheeks are from the heat of the fire so long as I keep staring into it.


    ¡°She was lonely, and I don¡¯t mind playing along.¡± I say quickly. ¡°That¡¯s it.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± She asks, a playful note to her voice.


    ¡°It is.¡± I say, clutching at my bag and turning away from the fire.


    Outside, the blizzard calls to me; welcoming me with promises to make me feel numb once again. Telling me that I don¡¯t belong by this fireside, in the warmth of shelter.


    I should be out there, looking for my end, but while winter tries to assert itself, it¡¯s spring that distracts me. New life and experiences tempt me even now, even knowing that it¡¯s all meaningless.


    ¡°So how does it work?¡± Missy asks, in the same loud stage whisper as the last time, dragging me back into the room and making me wish that Fate was still here so I could foist these questions off onto her.


    ~Fate


    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    In the raging snow, the rest of the world could be a world away and I wouldn¡¯t know it. If I wasn¡¯t leaning against the wall, I could be lost wandering the same street until the storm ends. Yet, the freezing cold makes the warmth so much more satisfying as I open the door to the stable.


    Shadow snorts at me, demanding that I close the door, feeling the chill that chases me into the room.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you at least a little happy to see me?¡± I ask, shutting the door and brushing the snow off of my shoulders.


    The stable here is fully enclosed, which I imagine it has to be. Snowstorms in spring might be a surprise, but I¡¯m sure it¡¯s rather common for winter


    Shadow turns his head and glares at me, looking at a brush nearby and snorting again. He really doesn¡¯t need a voice to make himself clear.


    ¡°Fine, fine.¡± I say picking up the brush and getting to work. The stone wall here backs onto the fireplace from the main building and it¡¯s surprisingly warm, so it¡¯s no surprise that he¡¯s worked up a little sweat even with the snowstorm outside.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been okay in here?¡± I ask, brushing his black coat. He snorts dismissively, bored but warm.


    I swear that he can actually talk back to me with proper words but couldn¡¯t be bothered to. I¡¯ve known a few people who think themselves too important to talk to me, communicating only sneers and snorts.


    ¡°Shadow, what am I doing?¡± I ask the horse, going through the familiar motions while staring into the distance.


    ¡°Should I have not left home?¡± I ask. ¡°Ma and Da are probably missing me. No, they¡¯re definitely missing me.


    ¡°But I had to leave, you know. It was just so suffocating, and I just¡­ I don¡¯t want to accept it. I don¡¯t want to be obsessing about it every single day. I want to live, I want to go on an adventure. I want to see the old ruins in the north, I want to try crossing the desert to see what¡¯s on the other side.


    ¡°I want to take my time falling in love¡­¡± I mumble, my hands stopping. I lean forwards and press my head against Shadow¡¯s warm side.


    ¡°Do you think Hope¡­¡± I say, staring down at the scattered straw on the ground.


    ¡°I just¡­ I know it¡¯s not real¡­ she¡¯s just playing along for my sake. Pitying me. It¡¯s not really real, it¡¯s just¡­ It¡¯s not wrong, is it? It¡¯s exciting, and fun, and it¡¯s an adventure like I always wanted. Maybe it¡¯s not a true romance, but I don¡¯t have the time to wait for that.¡±


    Shadow turns his head, snorting at me to get back to my brushing. An arrogant creature he is, but he¡¯s right.


    ¡°I should just do what I want.¡± I say, straightening. ¡°I¡¯ll save the world at the last second, I¡¯ll get the girl and we¡¯ll live happily ever after. It¡¯ll be just like the grand stories of myth and legend. Even the gods will look down in curiosity.


    ¡°We¡¯ll all have a happy ending.¡± I say, shaking off the gloom and finishing with Shadow. He still has water, which is good, since I¡¯m not sure I can go fetch anything from the well right this moment.


    I fill his feed tray with a good handful of feed, it¡¯s nothing impressive, nothing like what he¡¯s used to, but he doesn¡¯t complain. Even if he did it¡¯s not like I¡¯m hiding the good stuff on him.


    ¡°Thanks for coming with me.¡± I say, running a hand through his mane before staring through the wall. I should get back, it¡¯s bad enough that I¡¯m talking to Shadow as if he can understand.


    It¡¯s just easier being around people, my mind doesn¡¯t wander in so many strange directions when there¡¯s other people around to talk to. Telling them stories, or asking about their lives, making a trade, it¡¯s all so much more interesting than being alone with my own thoughts.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be back later.¡± I say to Shadow, but he doesn¡¯t even bother to say goodbye as I squeeze out the door into the snow. I make sure that the door is firmly closed and turn back to face the blinding snow.


    I lift my scarf up to cover my face, peeking through the thick falling snow. With my hand pressed to the wall, I stomp through the thick snow, walking in the footsteps that I made coming out here.


    The blizzards roar grows louder as the cold winds tear at me, pulling me back and throwing more snow around. A burst of power more intense than I was expecting, but not more than I can handle. I lean into the wind and press on, there should only be a few more steps to the door.


    As I start to worry that I might have walked past the door without seeing it, the winds die, and the snow washes past. Everything turns still, the air freezing everything in place.


    The eye of the storm. I¡¯ve heard the saying, but it¡¯s something else entirely to experience it myself.


    The full darkness of night surrounds me, but even so I can see the wall of snow surrounding me in every direction, covering most of the buildings and only leaving this small patch unmoved.


    A whisper cuts through the storm, but I can¡¯t quite make out the words. The speaker, a vague figure in the darkness, stands in the middle of the street, snow up to their knees.


    ¡°Um¡­ you¡¯ll have to speak up.¡± I say, trying to get a clear look at them.


    ¡°I¡­ hello.¡± The speaker sounds a little uncertain of herself, but as she speaks up, I can see her properly. A figure a little shorter than me, and skinny, too, which seems a little strange. I know that my winter clothes leave my silhouette more that of a ball than a lady.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you cold?¡± I ask, pulling my scarf up a little higher. The winds and the snow might be gone, but the air itself feels like it¡¯s freezing around me.


    ¡°No¡­ I¡¯m not. Thank you. For asking, I mean.¡± She certainly has a feminine voice, crystalline like the ringing of a fine glass.


    For once I can¡¯t find anything to say, the situation is just so strange. Unreal, it feels a little like a fairy tale.


    ¡°Well, I think I¡¯m going to go inside, somewhere warm. Do you want to come with me?¡± I say, shivering from the icy cold.


    ¡°No.¡± She replies. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Well, don¡¯t stay out here too long.¡± I say, rubbing my hands together.


    ¡°I won¡¯t.¡± She replies, watching me as I trudge through the snow to the door of the inn. I look back towards her, only for the storm to wash over me, pushing me inside.


    I force the door closed, fighting against the wind and the snow. The warmth of the room tingles on my skin, giving life back to me.


    Hope is sitting up and talking with Missy while Jake is still sleeping. I pull off my outer coat and brush the snow off before running over to them. I could lean over the fireplace to warm back up, but there¡¯s a much better option just sitting around under her blanket.


    ¡°Hope!¡± I shout, flopping on the couch and pulling her into my arms. She doesn¡¯t struggle, but she does shiver as my cold hands touch her neck. She doesn¡¯t even complain, resigning herself to it.


    No fun, but still warm.


    ¡°Welcome back.¡± Missy says, smiling happily from her side of the fire.


    ¡°I just met the strangest person.¡± I say, feeling the slight sting of warmth reinvigorating my frozen flesh. It¡¯s a pleasant pain, there¡¯s nothing quite like warming up from the cold. ¡°She was out there in the eye of the storm with me.¡±


    ¡°The eye of the storm?¡± Hope asks, adjusting her blankets and spreading them to make sure they cover me too.


    ¡°Yeah, the calm centre of the storm where the winds die down.¡± I say, trying to find a prettier way to describe it. ¡°The calm heart to the raging storm.¡±


    ¡°Ah, are you okay? You didn¡¯t eat or drink anything weird, did you?¡± Missy asks, leaning forwards in her chair. ¡°Blizzards aren¡¯t like that. At least not any I¡¯ve lived through.¡±


    ¡°Really? But it was outside the door. There was someone there with me, too.¡± I say. ¡°I didn¡¯t catch her name, but she had a pretty voice.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ ah, not normal.¡± Missy says. ¡°Did you make sure to lock the door? I¡¯ll just go check actually. Jake, how about you come help me. We¡¯ll check all the doors and windows are locked tight.¡±


    The young man shudders awake, pulled to his feet before he can get his bearings.


    ¡°What¡¯s all that?¡± I ask, sinking into the chair and adjusting my arms around Hope. She doesn¡¯t complain, passively accepting me in her life.


    Is it pity? Apathy? Or is she just lonely, like me?


    I¡¯m not sure I want to know. If I ask too many questions, then this warmth will leave me alone in the blizzards freezing cold.


    ~Hope


    The sun rises to the sounds of uproar in the village. The storm has passed, though it¡¯s left annoyingly thick snow in its wake, and all the villagers are going around checking on one another.


    It seems as though someone didn¡¯t make it through the storm.


    I follow Fate through the thick mass of people, some excited, some worried, others nervous, and just outright confounded. A life has been lost, but that¡¯s not what bothers people so.


    An older lady has been found dead. Frozen solid, harder than ice. Every hair on her head and every wrinkle on her face perfectly preserved in the ice sculpture that she¡¯s become.


    Yet by some magic the fire that she sits beside is still burning bright, the warmth enough to summon sweat upon my brow, even as I stand further from it.


    A layer of white ice is left behind on the wooden floorboards of her house, footprints a little smaller than my own feet would make. A similar ice covers an empty chair by the fire, a shadow of a young woman, who obviously isn¡¯t there.


    On a small tabletop rests a teapot, one cup empty but for the last droplets staining the bottom, the other is still full, but frozen solid.


    Fates hand reaches out for my own, her thick winter gloves cold to the touch.

 Chapter 14 ~ Spirit

    ~Hope


    The taverns walls are aged and worn from generations of use and everyday habitation. Stains have discoloured older stains. The newer wood of the walls and floorboards are from trees that were felled by the great grandsons of the planks beside them. Though the relatively new planks of wood are few, most are so old that it wouldn¡¯t be a surprise if they¡¯d fossilised over the many years.


    The tables and chairs are similarly abused, more than a few creaking from the weight of the villagers gathering here in the tavern. Much more of the furniture is fresh compared to aged, but I suppose that makes sense. Furniture suffers the worse wear over time.


    Just like the wood that makes up the room, the people that make up the town are clearly split by age. The older members are still gathered around in their own corner by the fire, joking about, their laughter crackling louder than the fireplace.


    The younger folk are confused, anxious, and even angry, wanting to know what happened to the old lady frozen in her home. After some time, they¡¯d decided to leave her as they found her, the frost isn¡¯t leaving her and she¡¯s frozen stiff to her chair.


    What¡¯s more, apparently the weather isn¡¯t conductive to digging a grave.


    ¡°There was someone sitting in that chair beside Missus Rorkson.¡± Jake says, standing tall by the bench, near the kitchen. ¡°Someone who froze her stiff with some awful magic, but who?¡±


    More than a few glances turn our way, and I freeze up, resting my hand on my short-sword. In such tight quarters, I can¡¯t hope to survive against them.


    ¡°They were with me and Missy.¡± Jake says, shaking his head.


    ¡°Miss Fate did see meet some stranger out in the storm.¡± Missy says, standing up energetically. ¡°It could¡¯ve been the killer!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure about that.¡± Fate says, a difficult expression on her face. ¡°She was strange, didn¡¯t seem to be wearing that much, in the middle of the storm. But she didn¡¯t sound dangerous, a bit nervous actually.¡±


    ¡°Nervous because you caught her in the act!¡± A middle aged man shouts.


    ¡°But no normal person could do that to Missus Rorkson.¡± A young lady says. ¡°Magic. They used magic to kill her, there¡¯s no doubt about it.¡±


    ¡°You youngens keep it down, would you. Stop fussing about it already.¡± Freddy says, standing from among his group of elders.


    ¡°Fussing?¡± Jake asks, taken aback. ¡°Missus Rorkson is dead.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, and we¡¯ll all be joining her soon enough.¡± Freddy harrumphs, ¡°Might as well get back to making those lists. Those were fun at least.¡±


    ¡°But what if it comes back?¡± Missy asks nervously, a hand lowered to her stomach. ¡°The storm is still floating around, just up the mountain, what if it comes back tonight?¡±


    ¡°Then she¡¯ll do as she wants.¡± Freddy grunts. ¡°She¡¯s a spirit of the mountains, probably knows the end is coming like the rest of us. I doubt she¡¯s coming down here to kill us all, so stop running about like headless chooks and get back to enjoying yourselves.¡±


    ¡°A spirit of the mountain?¡± Fate asks, just as the rest of the tavern explodes with the same curious question.


    ¡°A sprit of ice and blizzards, they live on the peaks of mountains.¡± Fate explains. ¡°Not many have seen them.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re dangerous?¡± I ask.


    ¡°They aren¡¯t, not intentionally at least, not from any accounts I¡¯ve read. They live on the peaks of mountains, it¡¯s said that they can¡¯t come down to where humans live. Up there the weather and footing is so incredibly dangerous, and the spirits themselves exude a freezing cold that prevents anyone from being in their presence for long.¡±


    ¡°So one of them has come down from the mountain?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Did anyone do anything to irritate the spirit of the mountain?¡± Another young man asks, standing up. ¡°Someone had to have done something to anger her.¡±


    ¡°None of us has done anything,¡± Jake says, ¡°We¡¯d know, no one¡¯s even been up to the mountains since last year.¡±


    ¡°Then the strangers in town?¡± The young man turns his eyes to us.


    ¡°Then the spirit would¡¯ve attacked Fate when they met in the street.¡± Jake explains, shaking his head.


    As the younger men and women grumble in the room, the older folk seem to be growing excited about something, laughing raucously as they chit-chat. I can¡¯t quite make out their discussion from here, it sounds like a conversation the rest of us aren¡¯t welcome to.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get back to the lists, as Freddy suggested.¡± The waitress says, standing up by the tables. ¡°I won¡¯t let no murderer steal our fun from us, spirit, human, or beast.¡±


    ¡°I agree.¡± Missy says, standing back up again. ¡°We should get back to it. I¡¯ll start, I¡¯ve found something that I want to add to my list.¡±


    She pauses, looking around the room, her hand resting on her belly as she works herself up, then¡­ she pauses, and let¡¯s out a long sigh instead. Her shining eyes turn away as she bites her lip and lets go of what she was going to say.


    ¡°I want to¡­ learn how to make clothes.¡± She says looking down at her feet, the words coming out slowly. ¡°I patch clothes and fix them, but I¡¯ve not ever made anything from scratch. Even if it¡¯s something small, I¡¯d like to make something all by myself.¡±


    ¡°That sounds like a good goal. If you need help I can get some cloth together for you.¡± The waitress says, smiling happily. ¡°Is there anyone else with something they want to do, or something they¡¯ve done?¡±


    The rest of the town turn away from their dark thoughts of the storm still hovering on the horizon, making jokes and pretending that everything is still fine. Pretending to find happiness in the small things they do to distract themselves.


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ~Fate


    Jake moves aside from the group, taking Missy¡¯s hand and hugging her close as the rest of the town erupts into discussions for their own lists. The affection between the two is shining bright, even through the hesitation. Jealousy rises in my own heart, but I turn away from it.


    The township discusses the many things that they want to do, and the things that they¡¯ve done. Most are satisfied and happily cheering and boasting about their small victories, celebrating every small thing. Sometimes, it¡¯s a more bittersweet topic that catches the towns attention.


    ¡°I want to be a grown up.¡± A young boy says standing up as tall as his little legs will allow. ¡°No one respects us kids, so I want to be a grown up for a day.¡±


    The other town members laugh at his expression, and more than a few raise their drinks cheering the boy on, but the waitress waves them quiet.


    ¡°Then for today, Jimmy can be an adult, does everyone agree?¡± She asks, looking around the room, seeing the many approving nods.


    ¡°Then so it is.¡± The waitress says, looking down at the boy. ¡°Do you want to sit up here with the adults and have a proper adult drink then, Mr. Jim?¡±


    The boy eagerly jumps at the chance, tasting the ale set out on the table before him. He can¡¯t hide his sour expression as he gets his first taste of it.


    Everyone struggles to suppress their laughter watching the boy try his best to hide his disgust, sitting tall and wearing an uppity expression. Somewhat like he¡¯s pretending to be a noble, the sort that have to shit around the sticks permanently stuck up their asses.


    Now that¡¯s something my parent¡¯s would scold me over if I ever said it aloud where they can hear it. I guess I don¡¯t have to worry about that anymore.


    The geriatric corner of the room has slowly returned their attention to the town meeting and a few are even joining in on the discussion.


    ¡°This morning I beat little Jimmy, I mean to say, Mr. Jim in a snowball fight.¡± Freddy says proudly.


    ¡°I was still in bed sleeping!¡± Mr. Jim shouts to correct the old man.


    ¡°A lesson to you then, young man. If you want to win a fight, take your enemy by surprise!¡± Freddy cackles, leaning on his chair as he smiles wide, showing all his remaining teeth, quite a few are left surprisingly.


    ¡°That finished my list, but I¡¯ve come up with something else I want to add to it.¡± He says, still smiling. ¡°I want to meet this mountain spirit when she comes back. I haven¡¯t ever met a woman I couldn¡¯t charm, and it¡¯s rough being into the older ladies at my age.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t say it old man.¡± One of the younger men in the room shouts at him. ¡°You know if you say that, the spirit will come for you.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t mind if it makes for a perfect meeting.¡± Freddy says, his smile easing but deepening. ¡°It¡¯ll be the end of my list, I think it¡¯s unfair that Missus Rorkson got the chance to meet her first and from what I seen she had a fine time of it.¡±


    ¡°Sit back down you crazy old coot, before Sanguine and Cerulean take notice of your madness.¡± The same young man says, no longer laughing. ¡°You know it¡¯s just a saying, just cause she died, doesn¡¯t mean it was some ¡®perfect¡¯ meeting or something.¡±


    ¡°You should learn to respect your elders more.¡± Freddy shakes his head. ¡°Well I¡¯ve said my piece.¡±


    As the rest of the elderly men and women talk, I find that most of them have finished with their lists, some express a desire to see or meet the spirit of the mountain, while others are just happy to see their children rush about having fun of their own.


    When the town meeting comes to an end, we¡¯re gifted a wonderful lunch of warm soup and¡­ biscuit. I think this town is crazy. I swear I¡¯ve never had to eat so much biscuit in my life, but the roads haven¡¯t been kind. I¡¯ll be trading for firewood and real food when I leave this town.


    ¡°What do you think about the spirit?¡± I ask Hope as we return to the inn. The snow has already started to melt under the warmth of the sun; even with the storm raging a little further up the mountain, this is spring not winter.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Hope replies, looking around at the empty streets around us. Most of the others are still enjoying themselves at the tavern. ¡°You were the one who met her, right?¡±


    ¡°I guess.¡± I say, thinking back to that shadow in the midst of the storm. She looked so human that I couldn¡¯t really tell that she was something magical.


    ¡°When I met her she seemed a bit strange, I¡¯ll give you that, but she didn¡¯t seem murderous or anything.¡± I say, stomping in the thin snow where she¡¯d been standing. ¡°I don¡¯t get it, what happened with the old lady? Why did she kill someone?¡±


    ¡°Careful.¡± Hope says, stepping up to my side as I stomp through the snow, looking for where the spirit had been standing last night.


    ¡°She was right here.¡± I say finding the spot. My foot slides under me as I step where she was standing.


    ¡°Wah!¡±


    I fall backwards, my foot sliding from under me. Hope reaches out to catch me but she¡¯s a moment slow, and her footing is too poor. Her arms wrap around me as we tumble back into the snow.


    ¡°You okay?¡± I ask Hope, struggling to get back up, but she just groans quietly.


    ¡°Hope?¡± I ask, pulling myself from her grasp and turning around to face her. She¡¯s lying on an awkward angle, protecting that bag that she¡¯s always so precious about, and landing on the side of her hip.


    She doesn¡¯t reply, staring into the snow as she twitches.


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ okay.¡± She replies, the words coming out a bit weak.


    ¡°Nothing is broken, is it?¡± I ask, walking around her. Trying to find something I can do to make things better. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, it¡¯s my fault. Can I do something? Can you walk?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± She says, shaking the snow from herself as she tries to stand and stumbles. ¡°It¡¯s just a bruise, I¡¯ve had worse.¡±


    Her eyes watering as she turns to head back into the inn, she hesitates at the first step and so she can¡¯t stop me when I sneak in under her arm.


    ¡°Lean on me.¡± I say. ¡°We¡¯ll go inside to the fireside and take a look at it.¡±


    She grunts her acceptance, pressing her weight on me as we make our way into the inn. Squeezing awkwardly through the door, we stumble about taking off our boots and jackets before heading to the fire. The flames aren¡¯t completely dead but they do need more fuel.


    I throw some more blocks of wood into the blackened remains and stir it up with the fire poker until we have a big fire burning.


    ¡°Can I take a look?¡± I ask Hope as I sit next to her, careful of where she got hurt.


    ¡°It¡¯s just bruised.¡± Hope says, shifting around, ¡°There¡¯s nothing to see, but go for it.¡±


    There¡¯s plenty that could be wrong, but I¡¯m not a doctor. At the very least, I¡¯m not going to be happy until I see that she¡¯s fine.


    Pulling at her shirt and her pants, I see her hip. It¡¯s a bit red, but that¡¯s it. I carefully run my hands along her just to feel at the bone, but nothing is snapped or anything. She¡¯d probably be screaming in pain by now if it was.


    ¡°Ah, should I give you two some space?¡± Missy asks, standing by the side of the lounge with a few things in hand.


    ¡°No, no.¡± I say, fixing Hopes clothes back to normal. ¡°We¡¯re not doing anything like that out here. I¡¯m just checking on her, we took a fall outside and she fell on her hip.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± Hope insists, pulling her clothes around until she¡¯s comfortable again.


    ¡°Ah, well you are a trader right?¡± Missy asks, standing stiffly, ¡°Do you have any nice cloth?¡±


    ¡°Nice cloth?¡± I ask. ¡°I have something that might work.¡±


    ¡°Okay, what do you want as trade? I don¡¯t really have anything special.¡±


    ¡°Some food that¡¯s not biscuits. Enough to see us to the next town when we leave.¡± I say, excited that this opportunity has come to me.


    ¡°Deal.¡± She nods firmly. ¡°Can you show it to me? I want to make sure it looks nice for what I¡¯m after.¡±


    ¡°Alright.¡± I say, standing up and turning back towards Hope.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± She sighs, ¡°Go. I¡¯ll be alright here.¡±


    I nod, turning to head out with Missy.


    ~Hope


    How did I get myself into this situation? Am I weak to women like her?


    If I¡¯d broken my leg, I wouldn¡¯t be able to walk, perhaps I could get around on Fate¡¯s wagon, but there would be places that I can¡¯t go anymore.


    I can¡¯t risk failing in my quest. It¡¯s the last thing I want to do in this world.


    Yet, the warmth and excitement I feel with Fate reminds me of everything that I¡¯m giving up on. New experiences and exciting developments.


    Life itself.


    I know it¡¯s all meaningless but she somehow makes it seem so temptingly sweet and warm regardless. Is this what the old people call the folly of youth?


    Becoming so enchanted by that fleeting happiness that you forget everything else? It¡¯s almost frightening.


    Fate comes back a little later, and we watch Missy work hard on her little sewing task as the blizzard starts moving back in over the town. The snow and winds ravage the walls outside, but we¡¯ve locked every window and every door.


    The wolf won¡¯t get in tonight.


    The spirit? We¡¯ll have to wait and see.

 Chapter 15 ~ Knock in the Night

    ~Hope


    The fireplace crackles loudly, but not loud enough to quiet the roar of the wolf that¡¯s returned to hound us. Icy waves of snow wash over the building, pounding on the wooden planks covering the windows and drawing us all closer to the fire.


    Jake is sleeping, he does tend to fall asleep early from what I¡¯ve seen, but I don¡¯t mind. I¡¯m not wanting more company, the silence between Fate, Missy, and I is more than enough for me.


    More than too much really.


    The bruising on my side has started to darken, but I try not to touch it.


    I¡¯ve been wounded far worse before, and I¡¯m not blaming Fate for it, but the only reason I was hurt was because I chose to stay here with her. I could¡¯ve gone ahead on my own, made my own way to find¡­ that place.


    I can¡¯t even let myself think of the meaning behind it, but I won¡¯t let this go.


    ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re okay?¡± Fate asks, turning her sharp eyes back towards me.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ve been hurt worse out hunting.¡±


    It¡¯s that gaze that frightens me. It¡¯s the fact that I want to open up to her, to say everything that I can¡¯t. To admit everything.


    I won¡¯t.


    But the fact that I want to is enough to be frightening.


    ¡°Hunting?¡± Missy asks, leaning towards us as she continues work with her sewing. It¡¯s more than a little messy but I¡¯m not really sure if that¡¯s not normal for these sorts of things. I¡¯ve only had the best of clothes when I was young, and the cast offs no one wanted when I grew up, so I¡¯m not sure I¡¯m in a position to judge.


    It¡¯s rather messy though.


    ¡°Hope hunted the monsters in the great desert.¡± Fate says excitedly. ¡°I didn¡¯t know there was anyone who went out there before I met Hope and she brought me the carapace of one of the monsters.¡±


    ¡°Hunting monsters in the desert?¡± Missy asks, putting her sewing down. ¡°That¡¯s why you¡¯re tanned I suppose, but¡­ what possessed you to take on work like that?¡±


    ¡°I used to be able to trade the monster parts. The merchant called them an oddity. Something nobles and merchants wanted to show off.¡± I say, shrugging. The bag is still leaning against my leg where I left it.


    ¡°How did you fight them?¡± Fate asks. ¡°You said something about how they can make the sand into water?¡±


    ¡°They make a sound that makes the sand like water.¡± I say, ¡°If you¡¯re in the desert always keep an eye out for solid ground, and if you hear them coming, run for your life.¡±


    ¡°If there¡¯s no solid ground?¡± Fate asks.


    ¡°Do you want to die fast or slow?¡± I ask, turning back to her. ¡°If you don¡¯t want to suffer than make sure you carry a dagger with you.¡±


    ¡°But how do you hunt them?¡± Fate insists, not even blinking at what I¡¯m saying.


    I can¡¯t contain a sigh.


    ¡°Their nests.¡± I say, ¡°When they¡¯re in the sands you won¡¯t even see them and even if you stab at them all you¡¯ll hit is their shell. You have to get to their nests and then cut the joints in their legs.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s rather gruesome.¡± Missy says. ¡°Most hunters try to hit the heart, don¡¯t they.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t hunt monsters in the desert like you hunt deer.¡± I reply. ¡°If you¡¯re smart you¡¯ll never even go near the desert.¡±


    I swallow staring down at the fireplace again.


    ~Fate


    There¡¯s more to Hope that she doesn¡¯t want to share, and as much as I want to know, I can¡¯t pressure her. Our relationship is¡­ tenuous, and she can leave at any moment. It¡¯s better to keep things as they are.


    ¡°You¡¯re doing pretty good with the sewing.¡± I say, staring at the tiny dress Missy is making. It¡¯s in neutral colours and most people dress their children in things like that until they¡¯re four or five regardless of if they¡¯re boys or girls.


    ¡°Thank you, but I know it¡¯s not very good.¡± Missy says, staring down at her own work. It¡¯s clear that she¡¯s never designed anything and while she¡¯s probably put some thought into it, it¡¯s just not lining up properly. The sleaves in particular are a mess, but I don¡¯t have any advice to give her.


    I¡¯ve never been good with working on things like that.


    ¡°Have you always been a traveling merchant?¡± Missy asks, turning the topic away from the small dress.


    ¡°Nope.¡± I say happily. ¡°It¡¯s a recent thing. It¡¯s all just to help me get around while I¡¯m looking into some ancient ruins, looking into the first empire. I¡¯m sure they had a plan to save the world.¡±


    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    Hope shifts a little uncomfortably at my side as I say it, probably embarrassed for me. It¡¯s the kind of thing I¡¯ve heard kids say, not adults, but still, what¡¯s wrong with wanting the world to keep going on?


    The fire flickers bright as a chunk of blackened wood collapses in on itself. The crackling overwhelming the roar from outside for a moment before it settles down again.


    ¡°A pleasant dream.¡± Missy says, nodding slowly as she continues with her sewing.


    ¡°I need something to eat.¡± Hope says, her eyes flicking towards Missy and her sewing for a moment before she forces herself to her feet, stumbling a little on her sore hip.


    ¡°Sit down. I¡¯ll get you something.¡± I insist, getting up beside her.


    ¡°No, I just¡­ I¡¯m fine.¡± She says, limping over to where the innkeeper kept food in storage. I, of course, follow her.


    ¡°You¡¯re not fine, you¡¯re limping.¡± I say, ready to catch her if she falls over.


    She just sighs like she¡¯s dealing with a petulant child that won¡¯t stop bothering her. When she opens the door to the food storage room, she glances back towards Missy, her lips dipping down for a moment.


    ¡°Hope?¡±


    ¡°Those are baby clothes.¡± She says, looking away and heading into the room. There¡¯s all sorts of foodstuffs in here, more than enough to make it through past next winter if it was all ours.


    ¡°Yeah, it seems like it.¡± I reply.


    ¡°That tea she was asking you about¡­¡± Hope continues with a partial sentence. ¡°It would stop a pregnancy, so why?¡±


    ¡°We didn¡¯t have any.¡± I reply. ¡°And we¡¯re probably the last merchants they¡¯re going to see for a while.¡±


    ¡°But still.¡± She grumbles.


    ¡°She wants to keep her child, is there anything wrong with that?¡± I ask, looking into her eyes. She turns to evade mine, looking nervously over towards the cheeses.


    ¡°No, it¡¯s just¡­ I get a bad feeling seeing her working on those clothes. It¡¯s not¡­ like evil or anything. Just¡­ I don¡¯t know...¡±


    ¡°Sad?¡± I ask.


    Slowly she nods, it¡¯s so completely innocent. So very cute that it¡¯s difficult to suppress a smile, but the topic does bring down the mood.


    ¡°If that¡¯s enough to make you feel sad, you really must¡¯ve been avoiding people for your whole life.¡± I say, smiling sadly down at the ground. ¡°It¡¯s best to think that the world is just going to keep going on, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± She asks, her face expressing the same skittish nature of a stray cat, wondering if you¡¯re offering food, or trying to trap it.


    ¡°If the world is going to keep going, then it¡¯s not really that sad, is it?¡± I ask. ¡°So much of what¡¯s going on in the world at the moment seems so tragic because we¡¯re expecting the world to end. If it doesn¡¯t then it¡¯s not really that sad, is it?


    ¡°It could even be pretty happy. That kid, Jimmy from the tavern. It¡¯s a pretty fun memory for him that he got to be an adult today, but wouldn¡¯t it be so much better if he could look back at today when he¡¯s a grown up and smile about it?¡±


    Hope turns away with a frown trying to think it over, no doubt.


    ¡°See, if we look at it that way, it isn¡¯t sad, is it?¡±


    ¡°Fate,¡± Hope says, her voice low and husky. ¡°I really¡­ I can¡¯t believe that lie, Fate. The world is ending, and I¡¯m fine with that, but it¡¯s still sad to see what other people have to go through.¡±


    ¡°Other people?¡± I ask. ¡°Hope, is everything alright?¡±


    ¡°Everything is as it should be.¡± She says, shaking her head and turning to leave the room.


    I take a few sticks of jerky before following her back to the fire. Her limping has lessened a little, but I¡¯m not sure she¡¯s not just hiding it.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you find anything?¡± Missy asks as she sits down.


    ¡°I lost my appetite.¡± Hope replies, staring into the fire.


    ¡°I brought some jerky.¡± I say, offering her a stick. She waves away the offer, but at least Hope takes it when I offer her one.


    The distant look in her eyes, the coldness that fills her as she remains unmoving by the fire. The only life in her flickering in her eyes, as a reflection of the fire she stares into.


    I¡¯ve seen it before.


    When facing the Lover''s embrace and the coming end, some people grow desperate. I¡¯m smart enough to know that I¡¯m one of them, but others get cold. They give up. They let themselves die before the end even comes.


    Hope has something pushing her forwards, something to do with finding somewhere beautiful, and for the first time since I¡¯ve met her, I¡¯m not sure I ever want to find that place. When we get there, I¡¯m not sure that she¡¯ll be able to keep going after.


    ¡°Hope.¡± I whisper her name, but I don¡¯t think she hears me. I dream of that future where the world keeps going, where she¡¯s found something more to keep her going, but the lump in my throat grows bigger as she remains quiet.


    I squeeze her hand, and she twitches, hesitantly squeezing back. She frowns, but that frown is more life than she had before. It¡¯s almost nice to see from her.


    ¡°Is it¡­ colder all of a sudden?¡± Missy asks, shivering as she lifts up her blankets.


    She¡¯s right, it¡¯s gotten a little bit colder and there¡¯s something else that feels off too.


    The air freezes.


    The blizzard has quieted. The raging storm, the pounding on the walls, is all gone.


    The sudden silence of the storm is deafening, until a gentle rapping upon the front door shatters the sudden quiet. Even the crackling fire has become silent, and cold. The swaying red flames slowing to a most beautiful dance, subdued  by the presence standing outside the inn door.


    The spirit has come, and she¡¯s knocking rather politely.


    Missy is frozen, Jake still sleeps on the chair beside her, and Hope has lifted her gaze from the fire just to lift a hand to the sword she has leaning against the side of the lounge.


    ¡°Um¡­ excuse me?¡± A familiar crystalline voice calls out from the front door. She sounds somewhere between a fine windchime and shattering ice.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± Hope asks, her eyes still reflecting the slow steady flames. I can feel her steady heart beat while I sit frozen, laying against her side.


    ¡°S- sorry about bothering you so late in the evening!¡± She shouts, ¡°I just¡­ I noticed the fireplace was still burning, and I was¡­ I thought maybe¡­ I don¡¯t know, maybe I could come in and talk?¡±


    ¡°Come in and talk?¡± Hope asks. She sounds different to normal, cold and a little frightening. ¡°Like the little old lady who kept your company last night?¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡± Comes the hesitant reply from the door. ¡°It was¡­ I mean¡­ I¡­¡± She stutters and hesitates, and I can almost hear a faint sob from the other side of the thick wooden door.


    ¡°Can I just come in?¡± She pleads. ¡°I don¡¯t want to hurt you.¡±


    ¡°The old lady?¡±


    ¡°She¡­ I didn¡¯t kill her.¡± The spirit says. ¡°She was a lovely lady, I wouldn¡¯t ever hurt¡­ I mean kill her. I know people can hurt being near me sometimes, but I don¡¯t mean it. That¡¯s not what happened to her.¡±


    ¡°Someone else came into her house after you left and froze her dead to her chair?¡± Hope asks, her voice razor sharp. ¡°I don¡¯t believe that.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what happened either.¡± The spirit says. ¡°But I didn¡¯t kill her. I just¡­ I just want to come in and talk, and eat, and all the other things you humans like to do.¡±


    ¡°Please leave.¡± Hope says, clutching her small bag to her leg as she lets go of her sword. ¡°There are other people in this town that would welcome you. Go find them.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± the spirit asks, hopefully. ¡°Thank you. I will!¡±


    After a few moments more of silence, the rest of us unfreeze, turning to Hope who just stares into the fire as she drinks from her worn waterskin.


    ¡°Hope¡­ I never knew you could talk like that. You were scarier than the spirit.¡± I say, giggling nervously while still shivering from fright.


    ¡°With you, I never needed to.¡± She replies, refusing to look at me.

 Chapter 16 ~ Frozen

    ~Hope


    The morning comes as it has every day before today, but the countdown to the end still hangs heavy over the world itself, and soon enough the last day will be upon us. Why wait for it, why bother with anything at all when we¡¯re this close to the end. I know that I¡¯m not the only one thinking this, and it¡¯s the reason why the older people in this town are so happy to throw their lives away, inviting a deadly spirit into their homes.


    I get it, throwing your life away to see what shouldn¡¯t be seen, to know what shouldn¡¯t be known. To meet with a spirit that will kill you.


    Death isn¡¯t a heavy burden, and it isn¡¯t something to be frightened of. Knowing that we¡¯re all going to die, all the troubles and challenges of life will fade away, it¡¯s comforting. I¡¯d be joining these old fools, if I didn¡¯t need to see my quest to its end first.


    Maybe I will come back here and do the same. Maybe I can find some beautiful, restful vista on the mountainside, and see this all ended. Wait for the spirits return and let her in rather than turning her away.


    Not everyone wants to see the end of the world.


    The frozen old man looks little different from before, like the old lady from yesterday, he died sitting by the fireside with an empty cup of tea in hand. This time, the other cup has been tossed onto the ground, shattered on the stone by the fireplace.


    The old man wears a warm smile, contradicting his frozen state. He doesn¡¯t seem to regret his choices, whether he was murdered or not, he¡¯s come to accept his end.


    I¡¯m not deaf. When the spirit came knocking on our door, she didn¡¯t sound like some murderous villain. But her intentions aside, there¡¯s no doubt that it¡¯s her frozen aura that¡¯s condemned this man, and the lady before him. No ordinary blizzard could leave a man frozen like this, only magic can do this.


    Flames in the fireplace no longer dance in the fireplace, but the red coals somehow still radiate a low heat. Dark shadows flicker about in the back, drawing the frozen gaze of the old man sitting dead before us.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go back to the tavern.¡± Fate says, pulling me by the arm. A night¡¯s rest has helped me recover from my fall, and it wasn¡¯t anything really so bad in the first place, but it has made me question myself.


    This town might be covered in freezing snows, but it is still spring, and I think the season has affected me. I¡¯ve let myself get distracted by Fate, by some silly attempt at romance. This close to the end there¡¯s no point in it, but I guess there¡¯s no point in running away from it either.


    My long sigh forms a white cloud before my face, and Fate looks curiously up at me.


    ¡°What is it?¡± She asks, smiling happily as if she never saw the corpse of the man we left behind.


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t it bother you?¡± I ask. A good number of the townspeople have gathered to the house, some arguing, and others mourning. There¡¯s a heavy chill in the air, and the blizzard isn¡¯t the cause.


    People are worried.


    ¡°Did you see his smile?¡± Fate asks, shaking her head sadly. ¡°He was happy in the end. So maybe he enjoyed his time with the spirit.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure he did.¡± I say, nodding slowly. I¡¯m not ashamed to say that I¡¯m jealous of the man, but I know it¡¯s not something that I should say aloud. The chill in the air feels comforting, if a little too nostalgic.


    ¡°No.¡± Fate says, pausing and looking up at me. ¡°This isn¡¯t¡­ No, you are not meeting that spirit. You agreed to come with me, and you¡¯ve still got that thing you wanted to do.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± I say, staring back up into the clear sky. ¡°This isn¡¯t the place. The cold snow and the mountains, it¡¯s too much like home.¡±


    The storm clouds hang over of us. The spirit and the blizzard have returned to the mountain, but the dark clouds are smaller than yesterdays, the storm is dying.


    ~Fate


    Hope is being stupid.


    She doesn¡¯t think I notice, but I do.


    It¡¯s not about the spirit but the death that she brings with her. It¡¯s not difficult to see the darkness that Hope carries around with her in every step that she takes, in that bag she carries everywhere, and in every glance she sends up towards the gods in the sky.


    She wants to die.


    I don¡¯t know what happened to her, in her past, but somewhere along the way she lost her own namesake. She lost hope.


    It hurts to see her like this, the coldness in her expression and her resignation. It hurts to see anyone like this, but it hurts especially with Hope.


    Still, the world isn¡¯t just made up of darkness and horrible things. There¡¯s so much happiness to be found here, and I refuse to let go of it. I won¡¯t let go of my hope.


    There¡¯s no point in saving the world if I don¡¯t save the people that make it what it is. I¡¯ll show Hope that life is still worth living. There¡¯s still so much for us to see and to do before we grow old and weary.


    ¡°Hope, isn¡¯t there anything you wanted to do?¡± I ask, ¡°A list, like everyone here is talking about. Something other than that quest of yours.¡±


    ¡°This again? No.¡± She replies, shaking her head. ¡°This is enough for me.¡±


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°It¡¯s not.¡± I reply lightly, looking up at her, ¡°Don¡¯t you want to have fun? What about dancing?¡±


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t know the styles I was taught in.¡±


    ¡°Do you want to learn to play an instrument? Try climbing a mountain? Dig up the ancient ruins with me?¡± I ask, trying to find something that makes her at least twitch a brow. ¡°Visit strange cities? Battle the worlds greatest warriors? Drink tea with a queen?


    ¡°Try the world¡¯s best food?¡± She blinks and looks up towards the sky. I grab her hand and she twitches in my grasp.


    That¡¯s the one.


    ¡°We¡¯ll be visiting a city on my planned route to the ruins that I¡¯m investigating.¡± I say. ¡°They¡¯ll have all sorts of things to eat. The street food can be amazing, but I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll have some rich restaurants we can visit too.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± She says, letting out another long sigh and burying her desires again. She¡¯s been ¡®fine¡¯ with anything that I can feed her so far, but it seems she¡¯s been hiding her true desires from me. Which, now that I think about it, she hasn¡¯t really ever tried to get anything for herself.


    She hasn¡¯t so much as asked for an extra biscuit over dinner, and she¡¯s not asked for anything from me besides enough food to get by on. She doesn¡¯t even compete for the blanket of a night, and I have to make sure she¡¯s not freezing herself.


    ¡°What do you like to eat?¡± I ask, as we step into the warmth of the tavern.


    ¡°Anything¡¯s fine.¡± She replies, slumping into a chair and laying her face down onto her arms.


    ¡°Is there nothing that-¡±


    ¡°Tea. It¡¯s been a while since I¡¯ve had any nice tea.¡± She says, shuffling around and looking away from me. There¡¯s a group of old people in here making a fuss around the fire, there¡¯s a new spring to their steps as if they¡¯ve rediscovered their youths again.


    I guess it¡¯s impossible for them to do anything as ridiculous as climbing a mountain, but now they can do something completely reckless from the comfort of their own homes. They can explore what the world still has to offer, even though it¡¯s killing them.


    ¡°Why?¡± Missy asks, settling in at our table. ¡°Why are they all so happy? So excited? This is just so awful.¡±


    ¡°Is it?¡± Hope asks, her voice muffled by her arms as she shifts her face up a little. ¡°We¡¯re all going to die, is it really so bad that they want to go a little ahead of you?¡±


    ¡°Life is¡­ it¡¯s precious.¡± Missy says, staring down at the table before her. ¡°We should be celebrating life and fighting against death. Trying to give everyone a chance to live.¡±


    ¡°Living is better than dying.¡± I say, nodding my agreement. She startles and looks up at me.


    ¡°Is it?¡± She asks, her voice weak. ¡°Even¡­ even if it¡¯s only for a few months? Is it selfish to want them to live?¡±


    ¡°Not at all.¡± I reply. ¡°It¡¯s not right to be worrying so much about the end of the world, it¡¯s making everyone confused. Would they all be so happy to give up their last year if they knew they could still live for a dozen more.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a stretch.¡± Snorts Freddy, the old man we spoke with before, as he settles down with us. ¡°At our age, death is a blessing. No more of those back pains-¡°


    ¡°Knee pains.¡± Another old man adds.


    ¡°Hip pains.¡± An older lady says.


    ¡°We can give it all up.¡± He says. ¡°Death isn¡¯t so bad. Which is why we¡¯re wanting to stay here tonight, see if the spirit doesn¡¯t want to come visit the tavern with all of us here.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t!¡± Missy shouts, her hands trembling.


    ¡°Now, now. Calm it down young lady.¡± Freddy says, leaning in. ¡°I¡¯ve lived long enough, but I ain¡¯t never met a spirit before. I want to do something special before I go to that perfect world in the lovers hearts.¡±


    ¡°But-!¡±


    ¡°No buts.¡± He says firmly. ¡°It¡¯s on our lists. This is what we want to do. Isn¡¯t that what this is all about? Enjoying ourselves this last year, and doing everything we couldn¡¯t before?¡±


    Missy looks on the verge of tears as she glares down at her hands.


    ¡°It¡¯s not fair¡­¡± She whispers.


    ¡°Well, I think that Sanguine and Cerulean have been waiting to meet for long enough already. There¡¯s no point making them wait any more even if we could. It¡¯s time to accept it.¡±


    ¡°The gods can fuck off!¡± Missy shouts, thrusting her chair out behind her and standing tall. The tears shine in her eyes. ¡°Sanguine and Cerulean can stay lonely, just leave us alone! I don¡¯t want¡­ I want¡­¡±


    Her hands trembling, she shakes her head and stomps out of the room. Jake catches her at the door, but she pushes right past him.


    ¡°Poor girl.¡± Freddy says, frowning at the sight of the still rocking door. ¡°Born too late to live a proper life.¡±


    The rest of the younger crowd has come back to the tavern, and much like Missy, they fuss about with the older people. An argument quickly rises to life as the younger members of the community try to talk the older ones out of their plan to meet with the spirit.


    ¡°I want to meet the spirit too!¡± A younger boy shouts. The kid that got the chance to be an adult for a day.


    ¡°You¡¯ve still got a long list to get through first, kid.¡± Freddy says, messing with his hair. ¡°Only people who have finished their list can join us.¡±


    The kid grumbles, but he doesn¡¯t argue about it, he doesn¡¯t get the chance to, not when his parents snatch him by the wrist and pull him out of the tavern. More and more people follow after them, tired of the arguments.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go check on Missy.¡± I say, pulling Hope up and out the door. Even with all the yelling, it¡¯s not as if everything has turned awful. The older folks just want to meet this spirit, and the younger people want to protect them from it.


    ~Hope


    They yell and shout, but nobody listens to each other. The older people are caught up in their own interests, while the younger people are angry and frustrated, wanting to save their family and friends.


    No one wants to see their family die, but sometimes death isn¡¯t so bad.


    Back at the inn, Missy and Jake are arguing. I¡¯m not sure what they¡¯re even shouting about, but they don¡¯t stop, not even by the time that night falls again. Fate puts together some of the food from storage for us, and finally the pair calm down.


    ¡°Why is the world like this?¡± Missy asks, staring into the fires as she hugs her legs.


    I have no answer for her. I¡¯ve asked that question myself a number of times, and the only answer I¡¯ve ever gotten is silence. The same answer I give her now.


    ¡°Here.¡± Fate says, handing me a small cup of tea alongside the slightly charred slices of ham she pilfered out of the storage.


    ¡°Thank you. Where did you find it?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Under the table. For some reason it wasn¡¯t with the rest of the food.¡± She says shaking her head. ¡°There¡¯s more in the teapot if you like it.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± I say, taking a sip.


    The tea is wonderfully hot, and burns my tongue a little, but even so it¡¯s surprisingly sweet. If the ham were honeyed, then this would make for a perfect little meal.


    ¡°Maybe they¡¯re right.¡± Missy says, her mouth twitching downwards as her eyes water. She looks as if she¡¯s on the edge of bawling her eyes out. ¡°Maybe it wouldn¡¯t be so bad to let it end here.¡±


    ¡°Missy?¡± Fate asks, leaning towards the girl.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have to choose whether or not to¡­ I wouldn¡¯t¡­¡± She stands up.


    ¡°Missy?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to the bathroom.¡± She says, walking into the backrooms.


    ¡°Do you think she¡¯s going to be okay?¡± Fate asks, pulling nervously at my hand. I¡¯m not sure when she took my hand into hers.


    ¡°No.¡± I reply. ¡°None of us are going to be alright, and I think she¡¯s coming to realize it.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ I¡¯ll go check on her.¡± Fate says, standing and chasing after the girl.


    I set aside the ham, as hungry as I am, and as pleasant as it smells, my stomach isn¡¯t playing nice with me tonight. The tea at least is still nice. It¡¯s sweeter than most I used to drink, but it doesn¡¯t taste like it¡¯s filled with sugar.


    I pour another cup from the teapot as Fate comes rushing into the room.


    ¡°She¡¯s gone!¡± Fate shouts, ¡°Jake! Jake! Missy¡¯s gone!¡±


    ¡°What?¡± The young man comes racing down from his room. ¡°Where is she?!¡±


    ¡°The tavern, I think.¡± Fate says, and it¡¯s enough to send the young man running out into the thick storm.


    The weather is still raging outside, but there¡¯s no hesitation. Not from Jake, and not from Fate who pulls me along after him. Even through the thick falling snow, the light pours out from the gaps in the windows, and under the door of the tavern.


    I protect my cup of tea from the snow, and tread after her, clutching my bag close.


    I have to survive this today. I still have something to finish.

 Chapter 17 ~ Embracing Spring

    ~Hope


    The blizzard soon gives way to an impossible calm, the biting wind disappearing to an unusual warmth. Fate pulls me along as we tread in the messed snow that Missy has left in her wake, while I try not to spill the cup of tea in my other hand.


    I¡¯m not too sure it¡¯ll be any good now that its been salted with a good layer of snow, but I just can¡¯t bear the thought of throwing it away either. The rich thought of wasting food and water is something of a past life.


    The tavern glows in the dark night, the energetic noise of life flooding this small void in the storm. A spot of warmth in the heart of the snowstorm.


    Two figures stand in before the doors of the tavern. Missy, who shivers while brushing the snow from her hair and shoulders, and a lithe young woman who doesn¡¯t seem quite human, who stands nervously while trying to find some words.


    ¡°Hello.¡± The spirit says nervously, ¡°Are you alright? You¡¯re shaking.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m... alright.¡± Missy says, as Fate pauses her approach leaving us in the role of audience. ¡°It¡¯s just... it¡¯s the end of the world.¡±


    The spirit chuckles, her crystalline  laughter like thin ice shattering on the top of a lake.


    ¡°I know.¡± She says. ¡°Should we go inside? Would it be okay, I mean with what I am...¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, let¡¯s go.¡± Missy nods quickly, opening the door. ¡°It¡¯s cold out here.¡±


    ¡°Oh, thank you.¡± The spirit says, crossing the threshold into the tavern. She seems as sweet as she sounded last night, but there¡¯s now two bodies frozen by her aura and she¡¯s walking into a full tavern.


    The body count is guaranteed to be nasty, the town will be lucky if they can find enough hands to dig the graves to see them buried before the bodies start defrosting.


    I should turn away and leave, I¡¯ve got no business dying here¡­ but Fate hauls me along, and I can¡¯t find it in me to pull away from her warm touch.


    The room inside is pleasantly warm, strangely enough the aura I was expecting is completely absent, though my skin does prickle a little. It must just be the effects of coming inside from a blizzard.


    I turn my eyes to the crystalline girl ahead of us.


    ~Fate


    The room is chillingly cold. There¡¯s no breeze but I feel cut to the bone by the freezing aura around the spirit.


    Said spirit nervously looks about the room, and if her cheeks weren¡¯t clear as crystal, I¡¯m sure I¡¯d see a blush. The room is dead silent as they take her in, her vaguely feminine form retaining none of an animals sexual characteristics, while she carries herself with a grace impossible for us beasts.


    ¡°Um¡­ hello.¡± She says hesitantly looking about the room. I have to wonder if her gaze can freeze a man solid, because not a single person finds themselves able to reply.


    ¡°Uh¡­ um¡­¡± The spirit mumbles, growing more panicked the longer the silence lasts, until finally Freddy launches up from his chair and stumbles over to her.


    ¡°You came!¡± He shouts in excitement, stopping short of her only because she stumbles away in a panic.


    ¡°Oh no, uh you can¡¯t touch me!¡± She shouts. ¡°It would freeze you to death. I don¡¯t want that.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± the old man says, with a great big smile. ¡°Then do you want something to eat or drink? We have ale by the barrel and food warming in the fire.¡±


    ¡°Please!¡± The spirit shouts eagerly, stepping a little closer as she gazes at the fireplace. ¡°Food and drink. I was told about them, you need them to survive don¡¯t you? You put it in your mouth and it¡¯s incredibly fun, right?¡±


    She explodes with questions, eagerly throwing herself at the crowd that is more than happy to answer her questions. There¡¯s a beautiful shimmer to her, as the flickering fire reflects off the layer of water covering her.


    ¡°It¡¯s not so cold.¡± Hope says, settling in at a table by the side of the door and staring into the tea cup in her hand. She picks out the snow that fell into it before drinking all that remains and refilling it from a teapot sitting at the table. ¡°I guess maybe she didn¡¯t kill them after all.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not cold?¡± I ask, shaking my head at her strange antics. ¡°You were shivering in bed this morning, finding any excuse to stay under the blankets, and now you¡¯re telling me that this isn¡¯t cold?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± She looks a little confused, but quickly shakes it off.


    ¡°Missy, what are you doing here?¡± An older lady asks, as the younger woman slinks back towards us to escape the cold, interrupting us. ¡°Only those with a finished list were invited tonight. There¡¯s still too much imperfection in this world for you to explore before you get worked up trying to see the end early.¡±


    ¡°I just¡­ it¡¯s nothing. It was a mistake.¡± She mutters, laying her head on her arms as she flops onto the table beside Hope.


    ¡°It¡¯s a good thing that this spirit is such a nice young girl.¡± The older lady says, ¡°You could learn a thing or two from her.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Grammy.¡± Missy says, not lifting her head up. The older lady runs a hand over her head before leaving her with us.


    ¡°Want to meet the spirit?¡± I ask Hope, but she just shrugs, looking a bit tired as she sips at her hot tea. It is late at night, I suppose, but how is she not excited about this?


    ¡°I want to go talk with her; I¡¯ll be back in a moment,¡± I say. She grunts a half-hearted reply as she settles in.


    ¡°The mountains are pleasant and quiet.¡± The spirit says, sitting by the fireside, gnawing on a frozen cut of jerky, while holding in the other hand a frozen mug of beer. ¡°It¡¯s just that it¡¯s all I¡¯ve ever known, and I wanted to get out and see the world. I came here because I want to know how you humans live.¡±


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°Mostly by eating, drinking, shitting, and pissing.¡± Freddy says, and Missy¡¯s ¡®Grammy¡¯ smacks him up the backside of his head.


    ¡°Oh, can I try doing those things too?¡± The spirit eagerly latches onto the words.


    ¡°No need, they¡¯re the less interesting parts of being human.¡± Grammy says, clearing a little room. ¡°You should try dancing and singing instead, it¡¯s the one pleasure us poor village folk can lord over the rich bastards in the cities. They have their large halls and pretty dresses, but they¡¯re so stuck up that they can¡¯t dance.¡±


    She kicks aside a table and stomps heavily in a quick beat forming a strange new music from the sound of her pounding feet.


    ¡°Gagger, your old fingers still able to work that flute of yours?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not dead yet, Remy!¡± The man replies, excitedly pulling out the instrument. ¡°What song are you wanting to hear?¡±


    ¡°Something cheerful and energetic. I want to dance like I¡¯m twenty again!¡± She says, huffing and puffing as she starts to spin around. ¡°That tea is some good blend, it takes the ache right out of the bones!¡±


    ¡°Ha, well best enjoy it while it lasts.¡± Freddy says, lifting a hand towards Grammy and getting his gangly old legs moving. They move with an energy that I¡¯ve not often seen from anyone their age, somehow stealing the spotlight from the mythical spirit sitting among them.


    ¡°This is dancing?¡± She asks, standing and imitating the movements, as an older lady teaches her a foot dance that flows well with the music.


    The clacking and thumping of feet, make for quite the loud ruckus, and it¡¯s not long before a few of them start singing. It¡¯s not like a proper singer from the city, not only are they not trained, it¡¯s like they¡¯re intentionally belting out the words without care for the tune they should be singing to.


    Yet, with the madness of the moment, and the levity of the music, it fits better than any song you could pay for.


    I join in on the fun, it¡¯s been a while since I could lose myself to the movements.


    ~Hope


    She moves like a strung doll jerking about at every twitch of the amateur puppeteer guiding her. It¡¯s the sort of thing that might inspire laughter from a young child as they try to imitate her.


    By the bright fireside, there is music, dance, games of dice and cards, good food and drink, but the light forms shadows in the places that people don¡¯t want to see.


    The spirit leaves a small puddle behind with every step, the water running off her in weak streams. There¡¯s a reason that she hasn¡¯t ventured so far down from her mountain before, she never had the courage to face the consequences.


    A spirit of the mountains is mean to stay in the mountains.


    She¡¯s dying.


    She¡¯s letting herself die, but with a smile on her face as she dances to her first song, drinks her first beer, eats her first meal, and gambles away her first coin.


    Meanwhile, Freddy, Grammy, and all the rest dance, sing, and move with a vigour that should be impossible. Their smiles aren¡¯t twisted by ignored pains, they¡¯re truly without trouble, but their movements are tired and growing more so.


    I feel my own eyelids dragging down, but I fight it to watch on.


    As they dance, drink, and gamble the shadows dance after them, all but one.


    Fate.


    Defying her namesake, she holds onto life with her every desperate breath. She dances not in remembrance for what was once good, not for the last time, but simply once more. Her feet are light on the ground, where others are heavy, and her voice is cheerful where the others carry a certain airiness that comes from disguised sorrow.


    She is the only one in the room to stand up in the defiance of The Lovers. Defying perfection itself.


    ¡°This is the end.¡± Missy says beside me watching the same scene as I. ¡°Spring is supposed to be a time for new life, but instead¡­¡±


    As I watch, a few of the older members sit down to rest by the fire. Some gulping their beer, others sipping tea. It makes me tempted for another warm cup myself, it¡¯s a struggle to find the strength to fight against the weariness holding me down, but the warm tea is a luxury I¡¯ve long been without.


    ¡°The last spring isn¡¯t meant to be like the others.¡± I say, mumbling a little as my tongue refuses to work quite as it should. I move it around my mouth but it just doesn¡¯t quite feel right.


    ¡°I want a normal life.¡± Missy says, on the brink of tears. ¡°I just want a normal life, but instead¡­ instead we have the privilege of seeing the gods come together, ending our dreams. I just want this to keep going. I want¡­ I want¡­ I want to see my¡­ my¡­¡±


    She breaks down, her words failing her. Jake runs into the room and fusses over her.


    I guess there¡¯s one more here who can¡¯t accept deaths cold touch.


    I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll ever understand them, but the spirit and the old codgers of this town, I get them. I¡¯m jealous of them. The singing and the dancing is a little much, but I still want a seat by the fireside with them.


    To take whatever herb or drug they¡¯ve used to take away the pain, to let themselves comfortably slide out of this life.


    Numbly, I reach down for the bag. My burden. My responsibility. My¡­


    I hug it tight, it digs into me, it hurts, but I don¡¯t care. I close my eyes, and let myself drift away to a perfect world.


    ~Fate


    I dance, I sing, and I toss cursed dice to lose more coins. The spirit energetically follows alongside me as one by one the older villagers fall away from us. Many have lost their breath or grown tired, napping in their chairs or sipping at their tea as they drift off.


    Finally, when the music stops, I sit down with the spirit who seems a little sad that it¡¯s all over.


    ¡°What did you get up to on the mountain?¡± I ask her, ¡°You don¡¯t dance, or eat, or drink. There aren¡¯t many people who can go up to the mountains and visit you.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but it¡¯s fine.¡± She says, lowering her head as she taps away at her drink that¡¯s still not melted. Her aura is still deeply chilling, and the exercise wasn¡¯t really enough to take the edge off of it. I¡¯ll have to take a distance soon just to defrost a little bit.


    ¡°It¡¯s comfortable, and normally I¡¯d be happy to just continue existing as I was, but¡­ the world is ending. I wanted to know what it¡¯s like to be human. The other creatures are interesting in their own ways, but humans do so many interesting things. I wanted to try living it, just for a little bit.¡±


    She taps her bread against the table, and the outer layer shatters. She nibbles on some of the fragments, but the watery mix drips from her mouth.


    ¡°Was it fun?¡± I ask, looking around for something to drink, my mouth is a little dry.


    ¡°It was fun.¡± The spirit says cheerfully, looking over towards the fireplace. ¡°I like talking with people. Dancing would be more fun, if I could take some time to learn it, and singing is interesting.


    ¡°Most of all, I think I like fire. It¡¯s pretty, like snowflakes but it moves about, no, it dances. I don¡¯t get to see fire on the mountains.¡±


    She wonders closer to the flames, the light of it shining off of her surface as she trails water after her.


    ¡°Can you spare a cup?¡± I ask Grammy, one of the few townsfolk still awake. The tea pot on the table isn¡¯t steaming, but I don¡¯t mind cold tea all that much. She¡¯s a little sleepy and doesn¡¯t seem to notice as I pour myself a cup and take a sip.


    It¡¯s the same stuff that Hope was drinking earlier, and while it¡¯s a little more powerful than what we had back at the inn, it really is surprisingly nice. I¡¯d usually want some sugar in my tea, but this is just right without anything extra.


    ¡°No, none of this for you young woman.¡± Granny says, pulling the cup away from me while fighting off her heavy eyelids.


    ¡°What, why?¡±


    ¡°This is a special blend our herbalist made for us before he went on to the lovers. A weak mix gets you a good night sleep, a medium blend will take a little of the aching away, but a heavy blend¡­ a heavy blend is just perfect.¡± She says.


    ¡°Wait, you mean¡­?¡±


    ¡°The aches are getting worse and I don¡¯t need Missy or anyone else taking care of me when I can¡¯t get out of my chair. Let the kids have the fun, and make their mistakes.¡±


    ¡°The tea?¡± I ask. ¡°The tea is poison?¡±


    ¡°Only if you drink too much of a heavy blend.¡± She says, ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    ¡°Hope!¡± I shout, racing to her side. ¡°Hope, are you okay? How much did you drink?¡±


    She doesn¡¯t respond, numbly falling aside as I shake her. The bag in her arms slips off of her lap and hits the ground, rattling as it opens up.


    ¡°Hope! Hope!¡± I shout, but she doesn¡¯t respond to my shaking at all.


    I nearly trip over her bag as I pull her up on the table, trying to figure out what to do with her. Something rolls out of her bag, and I wouldn¡¯t pay it any attention, but it¡¯s so important to her, so my eyes turn to look at the open bag.


    A pair of empty eye sockets stare back at me, the small, child-sized skull looks at me for only a moment before it rocks back towards Hope.

 Chapter 18 ~ Death

    ~Hope


    A blazing sun torments me from above, heating the sands beneath my feet to ensure that there¡¯s no escape from the scorching heat. I don¡¯t deserve an escape.


    The desert sand slides away, pulling my foot along with it and forcing me to fall. It burns me with its embrace, but I freeze, unable to move.


    Did the monsters hear me? Are they coming for me?


    I listen, and I listen, waiting to hear the monster¡¯s scream. The sound of the ground vibrating underneath me, pulling me into the monsters embrace, but¡­ nothing. I¡¯m alone, the monsters didn¡¯t come for me. I¡¯m so worthless that even they don¡¯t want me.


    My hands sink into the sand as I push myself off of the ground, pressing on without looking back.


    My skin burns, my chest hurts deep inside, and the tears that try to drip from eyes disappear; stolen by the dry desert air.


    I¡¯m alone.


    I¡¯ve been alone for a long, long time. My steps in the sand an empty trail through an even greater emptiness. There is nothing ahead of me, and I cannot look back, there¡¯s nothing there for me but regrets and pain.


    ¡°Whatever you do don¡¯t stop.¡± The whispers haunt me, ¡°Don¡¯t look back, just keep moving forward.¡±


    I set my eyes to the next hill and keep walking, treading in the shadow of a dune.


    I want to go back.


    I should go back.


    There¡¯s nothing for me over the next dune, at least the regret and pain behind me is something mine.


    ¡°Keep going.¡± The whisper worms it¡¯s way into my ears, more real than even the desert around me. The voice pushes me like a hand on my back, and so I lower my head and I lift one foot, then the next.


    I once lived in a castle, a princess to a grand Kingdom. Or at least, the king called it grand, the peasants who tore it down didn¡¯t really seem to think the same. They came with torches on a dark winter¡¯s night, cutting down the guards who didn¡¯t surrender.


    It was in the heart of a blizzard that we escaped from the castle, a few loyal servants protecting us as we ran for our lives. I nearly froze to death that night, a man who¡¯s name I never knew gave me his coat to keep me warm. He was frozen dead by morning.


    The next day, the peasants paraded the heads of my parents around on pikes, they looked surprised, their mouths agape, and their eyes open wide. My brothers and sisters were executed to roaring applause, the servants protected me from the sight, but I can still hear it.


    My brothers pleading, the falling guillotine, and the roar of the crowd. My younger sister couldn¡¯t even form words, just screams¡­ it¡¯s the silence after that still hurts now. No matter how much I cover my ears, that silence is still with me.


    It still wasn¡¯t enough for them. They hunted us everywhere we tried to hide, even living in rags in the lowest slums of the city wasn¡¯t enough to satisfy them.


    We wandered from place to place, but we never settled anywhere for long before someone noticed us. Our hair, our eyes, how we weren¡¯t like the other kids. We couldn¡¯t hide it.


    I remember them burning our nursemaid, a woman closer to us than our own mother, and we ran away as she screamed in pain.


    I wanted to give up then.


    I still want to give up, the sand shifting under me, sapping away every bit of my strength.


    ¡°Things will be good again.¡± The whisper in my ears, stings my eyes with tears that are denied by the desert winds. ¡°The brightest flowers only bloom in the spring, just be patient, and keep on going.¡±


    We set out across the desert in the hope of finding a land beyond. A land of hope, where we might live our lives free, where we won¡¯t be hunted.


    That was a long time ago.


    Now alone, I walk on, waiting for the monsters to take me too.


    ~Fate


    Hope is still asleep, as unmoving as the older locals who have slipped from our world into the hearts of the gods. She¡¯s not gone to the gods yet, and she¡¯s not going to either.


    She¡¯ll wake up again soon. I know it.


    Missy and Jake returned to the inn a while ago, their concern for me and Hope overwhelmed by their own mourning. They promised to come meet me again come morning, leaving me alone with Hope and the spirit who¡¯s body has dribbled away to a being half her size and shape.


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Her aura is dying, and so is she.


    ¡°Is Hope dying?¡± the spirit asks, looking down over Hope where she lies by the fireside. Her eyes aren¡¯t flickering with dreams as when I waken before her, her breath is low and weak compared to what it should be. I could once feel her pulse just by touching her chest, but now I can barely feel the faintest pulse from her wrist.


    ¡°She isn¡¯t going to die.¡± I say, but even I can hear the doubts in my own voice. I can¡¯t let myself go down this road again. I have to believe, especially because no one else does.


    ¡°Is it sad?¡± The spirit asks, her thin, fragile expression twisting as she looks down at Hope¡¯s unmoving expression.


    ¡°Yes, of course it¡¯s sad!¡± I say, pulling Hopes hand into mine as I look up at the spirit.


    ¡°Because you¡¯ll be alone?¡± The spirit asks. ¡°You won¡¯t hear her singing; you won¡¯t be able to dance with her again? You can¡¯t eat with her, or drink? No dice or cards either?¡±


    ¡°Yes, all those things and more.¡± I hiss, ¡°But it¡¯s not going to happen.¡±


    ¡°Because it¡¯d be too sad?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I whisper. ¡°Why are you asking me this? Are you trying to make this worse?¡±


    ¡°I live alone on the mountains.¡± She says. ¡°I have a voice to speak and to sing, but no one to listen. To me it¡¯s not sad to be alone. It¡¯s normal. This dream is different. It¡¯s special.


    ¡°Losing it doesn¡¯t hurt me or make me feel sad, it¡¯s just the end of a season. Summer can¡¯t last forever. The world can¡¯t keep going for eternity, the gods have waited long enough for us.¡±


    ¡°It can.¡± I whisper, trying to find the warmth inside me, the part of me that believes in the impossible. ¡°I can make the world keep going. I can live with Hope, and we can travel this world all the way around.¡±


    ¡°All things die.¡± The spirit says in a husky whisper, ¡°Even the mountains fall, and even the gods will one day pass away and be replaced by others. It hurts less to accept it.¡±


    ¡°I refuse.¡± I say, lifting my head as heat fills my mind. ¡°I refuse. What kind of life can we have just waiting to die? What kind of death would that be? No, screw Sanguine and Cerulean both. I want to live.¡±


    The spirit nods slowly, not saying anything more as she slowly dies, melting into the floorboards.


    ¡°I want Hope to want to live too.¡± I say, looking back at the bag that she¡¯s been carrying with her. The thing that is so precious to her. Bones.


    A beautiful place. That¡¯s what she¡¯s after.


    A beautiful grave, but is it for one or for two?


    And worse than that, will I have to be the one to dig it?


    ¡°No, she¡¯s going to be fine.¡± I say, clutching her even more tightly. The spirit¡¯s eyes are focused on me as she leans on the tableside. ¡°Why are you looking at me like that?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ want to feel sad, too.¡± She says, her voice barely a whisper. ¡°I want to feel sad like you do.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t.¡± I choke off the word and press my focus on Hope instead. She¡¯s still warm, and her heart is still beating.


    ¡°She¡¯s still alive, there¡¯s no reason for me to be sad.¡± I say, leaning forwards and rubbing at my face to hide the evidence trying to escape my eyes.


    The spirit nods slowly, turning away from me and letting me clean up the tears without being watched.


    All around us are the frozen corpses of the others who drank the tea, it almost seems like they¡¯re all sleeping, but there¡¯s no breath coming from them, no snores, no shifting. They¡¯re eerily, terribly still, and there¡¯s nothing that will wake them from their dreams tonight.


    ¡°They chose to die today because the world is ending at the end of the year. It doesn¡¯t make any sense!¡± I shout. ¡°If the world was going to keep on going, then they¡¯d never of given up, but because the world ends in less than a year they decide to die even sooner?¡± My voice breaks as I pull Hope closer to the fires.


    The spirit takes out some firewood and throws it into the flames, the water of her body hissing as it drips into the fire. Her hand starts losing its shape, but she doesn¡¯t seem to mind. She doesn¡¯t seem to care.


    ¡°What will you do in this next year that will change your ending?¡± The spirit asks, smiling as she touches Grammy¡¯s arm. ¡°They were excited to spend their time with me tonight. The tea that took their last breaths, gave them the strength to dance and sing. It took their pains away so that they could enjoy tonight.


    ¡°This was something they could only do now. It¡¯s something I could only do now. Another year on the mountain won¡¯t change that. We chose this end because we get to experience something special before the end.¡±


    ¡°Then why are you crying?¡± I ask, staring up at her watering eyes, the rivulets no different from the rest of her body.


    ¡°I¡¯m crying?!¡± She asks, leaning in close to me. ¡°Then this¡­ this is sadness. Grief. Another human thing I get to experience.


    ¡°Sadness isn¡¯t so bad, either. It reminds me of the happiness we had a little bit ago. It hurts, but it hurts in a good way.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no such thing.¡± I hiss, pulling Hope¡¯s bag close before pushing it onto her.


    ¡°Hope, if you want to finish that task, that one last thing. Then you have to wake up. You aren¡¯t finished yet. Please, wake up.¡±


    I don¡¯t want to be alone.


    I don¡¯t want to say goodbye here.


    I don¡¯t want this to end.


    I haven¡¯t had the chance to get to know Hope as well as I¡¯d like to. I¡¯ve been a coward, hiding from topics that might have driven her away. There¡¯s so much about her that I want to know, so much that I want to ask.


    There¡¯s so much that I want to share with her if she¡¯ll listen. Not just road companions on the way to the end of the world, but something more.


    I want to have something more with her.


    ¡°Please, wake up.¡±


    ~Hope


    I step into the sand, sinking into it and then taking the next step forwards, leaving hollow footsteps in my wake, soon to be erased by the warm winds.


    On my back, I carry a bag. It¡¯s a heavy weight, a burden that I can¡¯t forget bearing down on my shoulders.


    I want to turn back around.


    I shouldn¡¯t have left.


    A hand presses on my back, much smaller than I remember.


    ¡°Keep going.¡± She whispers in my ear. ¡°Keep living. Please, please, survive this.¡±


    A rush of sand bursts from the earth behind me. I turn around, but there¡¯s nothing there.


    Just my own empty footsteps.


    She¡¯s gone.


    I¡¯ve been walking alone for a long, long time, and now¡­ now the end is in sight. Towering mountains rise over the sand dunes before me, and on my back weighs a heavy burden, pulled from the sands.


    I just have to press on alone a little longer.


    Alone?


    For some reason that feels wrong. I should be alone, but for some reason something is missing. There should be someone beside me.


    It doesn¡¯t matter, it shouldn¡¯t matter, but for some reason my mind keeps ticking back to that thought. The silhouette beside me that I can¡¯t quite figure out, far too lively to belong to my memories. It dances forwards, towards the mountains and I struggle to keep up.


    ¡°Keep going, keep living, and wake up.¡± The weight presses my back, shoving me towards the silhouette that I can almost make out.


    The mountains rush closer, the icy breeze cutting into the desert and dying out here in the wastes, but drawing me out with an invitation I can¡¯t refuse.


    The hand pushing me gives one final shove, as I leap forwards, and open my eyes.


    The morning light fills the tavern with a warm glow.


    Fate leans over me, her face a mess of tears that she¡¯s rubbed away. It looks wrong, twisting up with worries that she shouldn¡¯t have.


    ¡°You should be smiling.¡± I say, touching her cheek and all at once the light snaps back into place in her eyes, and her lips curl up into the most beautiful smile.

 Chapter 19 ~ Morning Mourning

    ~Hope


    ¡°Hope.¡± Since I first crossed the desert, I¡¯ve rarely ever heard my name spoken aloud, and never overflowing with such deep emotion. My name somehow conveying a desperate relief, a sigh of prayers answered, and of hope fulfilled.


    Fates arms pull me up from the table where I lay, and she squeezes me so tight that it¡¯s hard to breath, but some part of me doesn¡¯t mind. Some part of me hopes that she¡¯ll never let go, that this warmth will never again give way to cold.


    Of course, my sensible soul can¡¯t let my unruly heart take command. I pry her grip loose after a reasonable time has passed.


    ¡°There was poison in the tea.¡± Fate explains, though I honestly can¡¯t find it in me to care for the details. Not while the voice from my dream still echoes in my mind, calling me back to life. The echoes from long ago demand that I live, but what is there to live for? What reason is there to keep going on?


    ¡°Why¡­?¡± I ask, practically pleading with life itself to answer for fates cruelty. The gods who watch over us are too busy with their own drama to care for our despair down here.


    ¡°Well¡­ I¡­¡± Fate freezes up as she mistakes my question for something else, she shakes herself free and forces out an answer. ¡°They wanted to dance without pain. They wanted to enjoy themselves for one night. The poison was to take the pains away, so that they can dance, and sing, and live. They took the poison so that they could live¡­¡±


    Her smile, while broad and bright has never before seemed so fragile. The frail memories from my dream, remembrances from darker times, are all washed away as I rise from where I lay and try to hold her smile together.


    She whimpers, or makes a sound almost like it, but by the time we separate she¡¯s rediscovered the mask that slipped, and again she¡¯s happy as ever before, seeing life and joy in this world that is beyond my own sight.


    ¡°That¡¯s good. You¡¯ve made it.¡± The spirit says, smiling at me with her gaunt face. Her voice is weak, cracking like the ice that forms her, as water spills through the gaps between. There¡¯s not much more of her left to lose.


    ¡°Are you¡­?¡± I try to ask, my stomach turning. I already know the answer, but it pains me to see her like this. Worse is the burning jealousy at that frail, yet brave smile.


    ¡°I¡¯m okay.¡± She replies, calm, collected, and ready to face the future that she¡¯s decided on.


    ¡°We should¡­ there¡¯s a¡­ a funeral.¡± Fate says, her mask slipping yet again, but she shakes her head violently before forcing a smile. ¡°We should go too. I¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d like that.¡± The spirit says. ¡°They told me about funerals, and how we would be remembered. I so want to see it.¡±


    It¡¯s difficult to find any words to describe the situation, and impossible to find words that could comfortably break the silence that¡¯s fallen over this town since rising morning. There¡¯re tears and there¡¯s weeping, but very few are surprised by the nights events.


    They knew what their elders had planned, and yet they couldn¡¯t, or wouldn¡¯t, stop them.


    The townsfolk diligently go about cleaning the tavern of their deceased. Apparently, each person left behind a message with regards to their desired burial, something they planned to make it all easier for their families.


    ¡°Are you sure that you¡¯re okay to walk?¡± Fate asks yet again, her voice tight with concern as she sticks to my side like butter on warm bread.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± I repeat once more. Words that I¡¯ve not had occasion to say over the many years since that fateful desert crossing.


    It¡¯s discomforting how easy it is to forget what it was like to be alone now that I¡¯m not, and one traitorous part of me wants to forget altogether the quest of mine. It would have me focus on this playfully warm happiness by my side instead; to choose life over death.


    I quiet the traitorous aspect of myself as well as I can, but scattering sparks carry the seeds of more flames, and as much as I stifle the spread, I cannot stop it. Not entirely.


    The spirit is still with us, following to the funeral pyre, but she¡¯s wisp thin and her future lifespan now must count in hours if not minutes. The snowstorm that followed in her tracks every night is now faded, and only the gentle fall of pure white snow flakes remains.


    They drift around us, slow and lazy, as the last of the dead are gathered into the home just a bit outside of town. They¡¯ve been put into the basement, and the house filled with tinder and firewood.


    A house, a place of life and warmth, sacrificed to become a home for the deceased. No longer will its rooms need to be warmed by the fireplace, no longer will it¡¯s roof need to stand against the rain, and no longer will the walls need to fight against the wind.


    ¡°We prepared ourselves over the last few years for the end of the world.¡± Jake says, standing before the house turned pyre, a lit torch burning in his hand. ¡°We did all we could to make the most out of this last year, and we made lists of everything that we wanted to do.


    ¡°We aren¡¯t going to live forever, but we can still live our best.¡± He pauses. ¡°My old man hasn¡¯t had as much energy in years as he¡¯s had in the last few days. His smiles were bright last night and his happiness was frozen on his face this morning.


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°They lived their best, and they left us to choose for ourselves how we¡¯ll do the same. A message, intended or not. That we don¡¯t need to live as we have before, we don¡¯t need to worry as we have before. We can choose our own future, even now.¡±


    Jake pulls Missy close as he finishes up. ¡°I will make the most of this imperfect world before I meet them again. This goodbye is only for a little while. We¡¯ll all be together again in the hearts of the gods.¡± He lowers the torch into a pile of kindling and the fire quickly spreads.


    One by one the rest of the town steps up to say their piece adding fuel to the fire as they step down.


    The spirit, barely even a shimmering ghost of who she was, stands before the fire, attracting every eye. The light of the flames shimmer in beautiful colours, shining through her. The soft snowfall does nothing to subdue the blaze, and her chilling aura fades to nothing.


    ¡°It was fun.¡± She says, skipping closer to the burning pyre. ¡°Being human for a day.¡±


    ¡°If you return to the mountains...¡± Fate tries to suggest but the spirit rejects the thought before it¡¯s even fully said.


    ¡°I¡¯ve smiled and danced. I¡¯ve cried and grieved. There¡¯s one more thing that I want to try, one more human experience I want to try.¡± She says stepping so close to the fire that the ice making up her body wars against the heat. The fire is winning.


    ¡°I wonder if Sanguine and Cerulean will permit me to live in their hearts with you all?¡± She steps through the threshold into the burning home. There¡¯s a skip in her step as she dances to an unsung tune. Her shimmering form is touched by the flames that move to dance alongside her, and in the warm light sparkling ice turns to water, which turns to steam joining smoke as it rises up towards Cerulean high in the sky above us.


    The smoke billows out, swaying in the gentle wind, as the last of the snow drifts down around us, the small glittering flakes melting in the air as they fall.


    I don¡¯t know from where it starts, but a voice rises. A deep, throaty hum.


    It¡¯s not quite a song, but something much more raw. A hollow, call to the dead. A sorrowful cry that resonates with the fires own roar. Others cry, weep and scream, some in despair and others in rage at the fates that would steal their loved ones from them.


    Others still are silent, thoughtful. Like me, they see the spirits last dance as a beautiful one, and they too wish that they had the courage to dance by her side just the once.


    ~Fate


    The villagers let out their pains in sorrowful song, but they move on quickly. There is much life to be had before death comes for us, and here in this tavern the chill is quickly dissipated as someone throws wood into the fire.


    Flames dance with a quick and flicking motion, reminding me of the spirit. I don¡¯t know the nature of spirits, but I¡¯m sure that she¡¯s not truly gone. Maybe she¡¯s just become a spirit of flames now instead, dancing at our sides even now.


    ¡°Thank you all for coming.¡± Jake says, Missy at his side seems a little despondent, deep in thought, and from the white-knuckle grip on her skirt I can only imagine that it¡¯s something important bothering her. ¡°What better way for us to mourn our elders, than to keep living.


    ¡°I want to hear your lists, the things that you¡¯ve still got to do before we meet with those old bags who rushed on ahead of us. Shove it in wrinkled old faces that they missed out on the best parts of this year. So, what do you want to do?¡±


    ¡°I want the best springs end festival ever!¡± A young woman cries, leaping to her feet. ¡°And damnit I want to find a man to love while there¡¯s still spring flowers blooming!¡±


    ¡°I want to see the ocean!¡± A young kid says, a girl of perhaps twelve.


    ¡°Well, the pass is clear, we¡¯ll manage a trip then.¡± Her mother says, leaning down to hug her daughter, lifting her up and turning to the rest of the group that¡¯s grown loud with their own thoughts and ideas.


    Drinks are poured and the ideas are growing more and more ridiculous. Not satisfied with their brief meeting with the dying mountain spirit, some want to go out and find other spirits and other kin of the fae. Others still want to climb mountains, or cross the oceans, or the great desert.


    Most of it is the drink talking, and they start competing with one another for the most ridiculous of plans. None seem to take it very seriously as they pick apart each idea with laughter. These are the people who stayed.


    When others went to the capital, or the forest, or the desert, or the mountains, chasing romance or stories of heroes and glory, they stayed home satisfied with the lives they could enjoy here with the neighbours and family that they already know and love. The people here are happy to keep living as they have, and I want a future where they forever can.


    How?


    Well, I suppose I¡¯ll have to hope for fate to guide me to some miraculous magic that¡¯ll save the day. A city girl, who was never even a good merchant, isn¡¯t going to make the magic that saves the world, or create some grand fort that can survive the Lover¡¯s embrace.


    Still, the world won¡¯t end. It can¡¯t. It hurts too much to even consider.


    I don¡¯t want it to.


    I refuse.


    Everything will be fine, we¡¯ll have a happy ending.


    No, better, there¡¯ll be no ending at all.


    ¡°Excuse me.¡± Missy says, standing tall at the bar bench, but leaning back on it heavily as she clutches her lover¡¯s hand in a trembling fist. ¡°I have something I want to do before the end.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s right. I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s good, but¡­ I¡¯ll do it anyway. I¡¯ll be selfish.¡± She says before tearing her eyes from her feet and looking up to look upon the crowd that faces her.


    ¡°I want to¡­¡± She shakes her head, her hair flicking back and forth wildly as she gathers her fortitude. ¡°I am going to be a mother.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to see my son, or my daughter born. Sometime in the late summer, or early autumn. They¡¯re going to be beautiful, and healthy, and¡­ and¡­ Spring, is a good name. I¡¯ll teach her to talk, she¡¯ll call me Mama, and Jake she¡¯ll call Papa. She¡¯ll keep us up at night, but before long she¡¯ll be crawling about on her own¡­ then walking.


    ¡°She¡¯ll lose her first tooth, and we¡¯ll offer it to the fairies. I¡¯ll teach her all about the gods and goddesses and she¡¯ll laugh and play with the other kids, even get into fights sometimes. I¡¯ll braid her hair and teach her everything she needs to know.


    ¡°She¡¯ll¡­ fall in love for the first time.¡± Tears streak down Missy¡¯s face and I look away, but I can¡¯t escape her loud voice on the verge of breaking, words keep flowing out in a rush.


    ¡°We¡¯ll talk about boys, about how stupid they all are. She¡¯ll rebel and yell at me for something stupid, then come back and apologise, and then before I know it, she¡¯ll be all grown up. She¡¯ll have a husband, and a baby of her own¡­ and then¡­ and then¡­¡±


    Her words stall and all the emotions she¡¯s holding down break through the dam wall that she¡¯s constructed in her heart. The village comes together to offer her kind words, but I know none of it reaches her.


    She doesn¡¯t believe any of what she¡¯s just said.


    She knows that it¡¯s a lie.


    Hope pulls me up by the arm, and leads me out of the room, refusing to look towards Missy.


    Out in the calm streets, there¡¯s not even a hint of wind. The weather is calm, and the skies are blue. Wonderful weather for travel.


    ¡°So, where to next?¡± Hope says, a step ahead of me such that I can¡¯t see her face. ¡°This quest of yours to save the world, what comes next?¡±

 Chapter 20 ~ The Road Ahead

    ~Hope


    The last of the snow is long since gone, the faint memories of winter fading away with the last glance we afforded that small mountainside town. The pyre was still burning on the morning we left, and the faint trail of black smoke still lingers in my mind.


    In the thick forest that surrounds us now, there¡¯s little left to do but talk and think. We¡¯ve done much of the former, but sometimes silence still falls between us, and I find myself lost in thought.


    There are many ways to live, and in the end that¡¯s what everyone seems to want. The elderly here chose to live their best, but I¡¯m sure there are plenty of other old farts out there drinking away their last days, spending them with family, or even just rediscovering old passions.


    The spirit chose to come down from her mountain and all that she¡¯s ever known, to experience what it is to be a human. Her life shining bright even in the fires where she chose to dance one last time.


    What about me?


    My jealousy came from their happy ending, not from the dancing or the drinking, or the games. It was that they were free from burdens and responsibilities. They could set aside all their worries and concerns and say their last goodbye with a smile.


    They were embracing life even in the end, but all I could focus on was the death that came after.


    Shadow is eager to pull us away from that town, all he¡¯s experienced back there were terrible storms and freezing cold. Even I can tell that he¡¯s grumpy about being locked away and largely ignored. His attitude towards Fate has been rather heated ever since, but she bought his affections through old, wrinkled apples.


    The towns people left us burdened with plenty and then some. Much of it is food that is meant to last, but there is still some other goods weighing down the back of the carriage, with so many people gone there was plenty of things lying around that people were happy enough to pass on to us.


    ¡°It¡¯s warm.¡± Fate says, clutching the reins and leaning forwards as she stretches. Her face twists up into an expression that¡¯s ugly, but somehow also cute, before she sighs in satisfaction and leans back into the bench. Her hair catches in the odd gust of warm spring wind, fluttering back out of control for a moment before the wind passes to stillness again.


    ¡°It¡¯s spring.¡± I say.


    ¡°For a little while longer.¡± She replies. ¡°We need to get a move on, there¡¯s still so much further we have to travel.¡±


    The road ahead of us is empty of traffic but the condition of it is still rather good, making for a smooth ride. There¡¯s no trouble ahead of us, the only fallen branches small and easily crossed without needing to get out and move them. The forest surrounding us huddles tightly around itself, the limbs of the trees and ferns interweaving into one another to hide lonely creatures in the darker shadows.


    ¡°Fate¡­¡± I let the sounds form slowly, her name making me feel a little warmer as it flows through my lips.


    She turns towards me and tilts her head to the side, her brow rises in curiosity but she patiently waits for me to continue.


    ¡°What¡­ do you want from¡­ this?¡± I ask. Turning away from her as I feel my cheeks warm from her attention.


    I know just how pointless this whole relationship is, but my time is also quite worthless. Thus, it¡¯s only right to spend it on something pointless in turn, isn¡¯t it?


    We¡¯ve shared affections in the more physical sense for a little while now, but I didn¡¯t think anything much of it. I mean it¡¯s enjoyable, and it¡¯s thrilling, but it¡¯s just a way to distract ourselves as the world ends¡­ or that¡¯s how I thought of it. There¡¯s still a distance between us.


    ¡°I already told you.¡± She says, smiling back at me as if there¡¯s nothing to think about. As if it¡¯s easy for her to say it, even though I can remember her expression back when she tried to swallow her fear and held tight to my hand.


    I clutch at my bag, the faint rattling warning me that I¡¯m being too rough. I still have to find a place to say goodbye, but until then, it doesn¡¯t hurt to enjoy this moment.


    If nothing matters, then there¡¯s nothing wrong with wasting my time.


    ¡°What does it mean to be together?¡± I ask, looking into the thick forestry around. I can¡¯t see more than a few metres through the green weave that the ferns form along the side of the road, it¡¯s so thick with life that I¡¯m left blinded. If I stray from the path even a little, I¡¯ll become lost.


    ¡°Whatever we want.¡± Fate replies, leaning back and smiling to herself. I can¡¯t help but look at her. Her slovenly, careless posture seems so charming, there¡¯s a confidence about her that can only be found in delusion.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Right now?¡± She asks, pressing her thumb to her pink lips. ¡°I¡¯m happy talking with you. What about you? You don¡¯t need to be shy, you know? If there¡¯s something you want from me, then ask.¡± She chuckles, her eyes sparkling mischievously as she looks towards me, likely thinking up something silly.


    I don¡¯t know how to answer her.


    That¡¯s my issue.


    I don¡¯t know what I want.


    Struggling to come up with something, anything to reply with, I panic and let words escape me before I can properly think them through.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    ¡°I want to feel warm, and happy. I want you to say my name, and¡­ I want you to look at me.¡± I say, feeling like my face is going to burn up as I listen to the words escaping my own lips.


    ¡°The desert.¡± I add as an attempt to excuse the outburst. ¡°I was alone for a long time. It¡¯s just¡­ yeah¡­¡±


    ¡°No, no.¡± Fate stops me, laying a hand on my thigh and meeting my eyes. ¡°Hope. You¡¯re rather adorable like this, please go on. What else do you want me to do?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± I reply, my voice weak in my own ears. I feel pathetic, and it¡¯s difficult to keep eye contact with her. It was never so difficult before.


    This affection, more an affliction, has gotten more serious the longer I¡¯ve let it go on. I still feel that I can escape it if I need to. If I leap from this bench and run, never looking back, I might just save myself from this.


    I just don¡¯t quite want to.


    ¡°That¡¯s fine too.¡± Fate says, smiling happily as she glances towards the road ahead. The wagons wheels turn smoothly, and there¡¯s no fallen branches or rocks troubling our way. ¡°We have time.¡±


    She almost sounds like she believes it, but her words quiet the energetic joy that was bubbling up inside of me. The faint whistling of a boiling kettle rings about in my mind as I feel time slipping away from us.


    ¡°I¡­ actually have something I wanted to ask too.¡± Fate says, looking conflicted but shaking it away and bravely setting her eyes ahead of us. ¡°It doesn¡¯t have to be right now, and I don¡¯t mind if you want to think on it for a while first, so don¡¯t misunderstand me when I say this.


    ¡°I¡­ accidentally saw what you¡¯re carrying with you and I want to hear the story behind it. It doesn¡¯t have to be right now, just when you¡¯re comfortable sharing with me.¡±


    I feel like throwing up, a cold chill races down my spine, and a phantom holds my throat closed in an iron grip. The world spins, as I clutch the bag close to me, the bones inside rattling in my ears.


    ~Fate


    She¡¯s crying.


    It¡¯s not the weeping of a grieving widow, nor the bawling of an upset child. Quiet tears that leak out under pressure. Squeezing their way past your guard as you try to control your emotions and hide them away.


    I want to say something, but I struggle to find the words. It¡¯s only when I remember what she said just a moment ago, that I lean in close and hold her hand.


    ¡°Hope.¡± I say, her name. I whisper it, and gaze at her from so close that our noses brush. She sucks in a desperate breath as I touch her arm, letting out a slow sigh as my other hand cups her cheek. I catch her tears with my thumb as she slowly settles back down.


    She¡¯s lonely, and afraid.


    She presses her face into my hand and leans closer to me to rest her forehead on mine. Unable to hide from my gaze, she closes her eyes.


    Trembling runs through her body, the tears dripping down as she struggles to breath. Each intake of breath ragged. Each breath out a desperate whisper.


    I want to know why it is that she¡¯s crying, but I can be patient. It¡¯s enough of a comfort to know that I¡¯m not alone, and I know that she feels it too. Maybe not in the same way as I do, but that has never mattered.


    She wants to hear her name spoken aloud, wants someone to see her, and touch her. To make her feel real.


    She reaches out with her hand, squeezing my own tight and the warmth that passes through to me is enough to shove the darker thoughts in my mind deeper into the dark.


    ~Hope


    The campfire crackles, and sparks burst to life. Fate is stirring at the pot that she¡¯s set atop the flames, while dying sunlight warms the canopy above us granting only a few last moments of light. The leaves wave slowly in a slight gust, which quickly dies down.


    ¡°It¡¯s nearly ready.¡± Fate says, as she adds a few spices to the pot, looking rather happy with herself.


    ¡°Do you really think the spirit is still around?¡± I ask. ¡°Or is she just gone, like the rest of us humans?¡±


    ¡°You think that humans are just gone after we die?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± I admit. ¡°That¡¯s what it feels like to me. I¡¯ve never seen a dead person come back to life, and I¡¯ve never heard any stories that I could believe. No one ever comes back.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure what happens after someone dies.¡± Fate says, looking up from the cooking pot. ¡°But I don¡¯t think they disappear. I¡¯m not sure they ¡®live on in the hearts of the gods¡¯, or whatever, but I just¡­ life is too precious a thing to just end. There has to be something more to it, that we just can¡¯t see yet.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯d be nice.¡± I whisper, turning my eyes towards Sanguine above us. Her red light burning with fervour and passions soon to be acquiesced, the weaving branches between us soon hiding her away again.


    Fate serves up the meal and sits down beside me. Her casual demeaner, with the way she leans up against my shoulder, and presses her leg up against mine, is comforting in a way that I never really knew I wanted. Simple physical affections, that I¡¯ve gone without for so long. Just her presence is enough to make things feel a little better.


    I can almost imagine life beyond death when she¡¯s here with me. I can almost believe the pretty lies.


    ¡°I¡¯ll believe enough for the both of us.¡± Fate says, slurping down the stew. Chunks of jerky, and spiced meats, don¡¯t quite taste the same as what I¡¯m used to from this sort of meal, but it¡¯s not a bad taste either.


    ¡°You¡¯re not going to try and convince me?¡± I ask, looking up towards the distant sky, where a god looks back at us in indifference.


    Fate shakes her head, and I can feel the faint motions as she rubs up against me.


    ¡°If you can¡¯t believe, then you can¡¯t believe.¡± She says, smiling even at the thought of it. ¡°Reality doesn¡¯t mind us either way. We¡¯ll find out who¡¯s right eventually. I just want to live happily until then, and I want you to be happy too.¡±


    ¡°I am.¡± The admission slips past me before I can catch it. Fate laughs at me as my hand slaps over my own lips in surprise.


    Her smiling lips shine in the red light, and her smile seems twice as sweet, hesitantly I lean towards her, setting my empty bowl down. She responds in kind, pressing my worries down into a small corner of my mind.


    I quickly learn that there¡¯s a way to get lost, while knowing exactly where you are. Her soft lips enrapture, and hold me still like no trap I¡¯ve ever before heard of, and when her eyes focus on me, I feel like even the gods are looking upon me, and know that I exist.


    Her touch slips past my clothes, her skin smoother than the finest silks, and warmer than desert sands on the hottest day of summer.


    We¡¯ve pursued pleasure before, but this night it¡¯s something a little more than that. There¡¯s a spark of something growing in my heart. An affliction perhaps, or maybe a fragment of perfection.


    I know Fate. I know her fears. I know how she smiles. I know how she lies to herself, and I know that I want to know more.


    At the same time, she knows my secrets, or some hint of them. She knows that I want to give in, to surrender to the end of everything, but still she gives me reason to want for more. And I find myself wanting to want it.


    ~Fate


    Last night was a little more exciting than usual. Hope is starting to fall for me. Which is strange to think, considering how far we¡¯ve gone already. How fast we fell into one another¡¯s arms, seeking distraction.


    A recklessness of our age, mother told me. We all live and act like we have no time, but the truth is that some things can only be born over time, love being one of them.


    I want to believe that she¡¯s falling for me, but I think it¡¯s more that she¡¯s desperate for love and attention. It could¡¯ve been anyone who picked her up and promised to come with her, to see her quest to its end. She could still find someone else, if we somehow split paths. This isn¡¯t some deep love, not yet.


    In time, affections can grow, and a passing crush can turn into something more romantic.


    Given time, she¡¯ll truly, properly fall in love with me.

 Chapter 21 ~ Dust

    ~Hope


    The wide city ahead just barely sits above the horizon, growing larger for the hours that pass, like a loaf of bread slowly rising in the oven. While we escaped from the dark clutches of the forest a few days ago, it remains by our side, though thinned out and littered with animal trails. The trees cover the landscape along the far left of us, stretching out into the distance nearing the city but not reaching it¡¯s walls.


    No bears or wolves have accosted us, and only the occasional deer dared cross our path in the weeks we spent travelling. The only other people that wandered the same road kept a friendly distance from us, focused on their own world ending quests, and the villages and towns we passed by quickly. It¡¯s been quite the pleasant trip, all things considered, but civilisation waits for us.


    The sight of it alone is enough to stir up the anxieties and paranoia within me.


    People are¡­ well they can be nice, but I¡¯ve experienced too much of their cruelty and hatred to ever anticipate a civilised experience to be something positive. I¡¯m just trying to keep that sourness to myself, Fate is all too excited to see people again.


    She bounces on the seat beside me, a big bright smile on her lips as she stares ahead towards the city.


    ¡°Baths, food, conversation, and trade! Give me civilisation!¡± She cries, standing up and getting a better look at the city ahead of us. ¡°This time, we can take a break and enjoy everything this city has to offer!¡±


    ¡°Sit back down.¡± I say, pulling her back to the seat. ¡°You don¡¯t want to fall off and hurt yourself.¡±


    She lets herself be pulled back onto the bench beside me, but the sparkle in her eyes and the smile on her lips hasn¡¯t tuned down even a little bit.


    ¡°People, Hope. There are so many people.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just a little longer.¡± I say, unable to keep from being infected by her positivity. I know that I¡¯m going to hate this city, but at least Fate is going to enjoy herself here and it¡¯s not going to be too awful by her side.


    ¡°I can¡¯t wait, it¡¯s so close.¡± Fate says, and as if to spite her, the wagon jolts beneath us, nearly throwing her from her seat. I react fast enough to catch her, but I can¡¯t do anything for the wagon beneath us.


    ¡°What was that?¡± Fate asks, looking back at the wagon.


    ~Fate


    ¡°Just perfect. The axle really just snapped like that? That¡¯s a thing that can happen? Come on!¡± I shout up at the skies. ¡°Did you really have to take it from me now?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think the gods are particularly interested in our wagon.¡± Hope says, walking by the side of the wagon and watching its awkward roll from a safe distance. It¡¯s still moving, but the front of it is bouncing up and down violently.


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s not that bad.¡± I say, shrugging as we take a few steps further forwards in line. The people in line around us chuckle a little at my sudden turn of heart. It¡¯s not like I was really that bothered about this, but I mean you have to overreact a little when exciting developments like this happen.


    ¡°Then why have you been shouting for the last six hours?¡± Hope asks, looking towards the afternoon sun and shaking her head in exasperation. Would she be upset if I said that it was just to see how she reacted?


    Shadow snorts, throwing his head up.


    ¡°Yes, yes. You did well, Shadow.¡± I say, feeding him another apple from the stash. We have enough to last a year if we ration.


    I think we¡¯ll be out of them in a week.


    ¡°Should we be worried about the guards?¡± Hope asks. ¡°Is there a tax? Are they going to try anything with us?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t really know.¡± I say, standing up on my toes to try and look a little further ahead. ¡°They don¡¯t seem to be taking anything. Things are getting a bit strange this year, so who knows exactly what they¡¯ll want. Let¡¯s just be friendly, and ask.¡±


    Hope nods, but it¡¯s a little stiff, and she reassures herself that her sword is still by her side. She is terribly quick with it, but then she doesn¡¯t seem accustomed to killing at all. I wish she¡¯d open up to me about what she¡¯s been through, but she¡¯s been tight lipped this whole trip.


    Love might just take a little while longer to bloom than I was hoping for.


    ¡°Next!¡± The guard calls us closer, and I notice that they¡¯re not wearing anything that I¡¯d really describe as guards colours. Instead, they wear purple shirts and capes, all painted over with a large, silly eye. Their smiles and general good cheer really pulls my guard down.


    ¡°Hello, Fate and Hope, travelling merchants.¡± I say in quick introduction.


    ¡°Sable, and Greg. We¡¯re with ¡®The Vigilant¡¯, protecting the people of the world.¡± Sable says, ¡°It looks to me that you girls won¡¯t be travelling very far with your wagon the way it is.¡±


    Sable is a rather feminine young woman with long black hair, though the clothes don¡¯t do much for her figure, the only nice piece of clothing she¡¯s wearing is a light scarf around her neck. Greg, meanwhile, is a plain looking fellow with a hatchet of a nose and a jolly smile.


    ¡°Yeah, the axle snapped just a little way out of town.¡± I say, waving at the mess. ¡°Shadow here pulled us through after I fixed¡­ okay, I¡¯ll be honest, I didn¡¯t fix anything. I just made it much, much worse.¡±


    Sable chuckles, and her partner steps up to take a peek under the wagon. When he looks back up again, he can only shake his head at me, in barely contained disgust.


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s a mess.¡± He says. ¡°It¡¯s a good thing you didn¡¯t have any proper tools or you might have split the wagon itself in half.


    ¡°Where should we visit to get it fixed?¡± I ask. ¡°We have plenty of gold, or whatever anyone could want in a trade.¡±


    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    ¡°It¡¯s a big city, but what about Larry?¡± Greg says, turning to his partner.


    ¡°He ran off to the mountains a few days ago, something about a calling.¡± Sable chuckles. ¡°The Madhouse, would be better. Stanley does good work, and I don¡¯t think he¡¯d turn them down.¡±


    ¡°The Madhouse?¡± Hope asks, frowning at the pair of not-quite-guards.


    ¡°Yeah, the madhouse grill. Stable, inn, bar, and grill.¡± Sable says, shrugging. ¡°A bunch of his neighbours up and left, so he took over the buildings and added some rooms to patch it all together into the Madhouse.¡±


    Sable turns her eyes to Hope, her smile sparkling a little as she takes notice of my partners charms.


    ¡°I can walk you two over if you¡¯d like.¡± She says, ¡°It¡¯s not far.¡±


    ¡°Leaving me here alone again?¡± Greg asks, shaking his head at his partner. ¡°Fine, go have fun. I¡¯ll take care of the gates.¡±


    ¡°Thank you!¡± Sable says, stepping up close to Hope. When she notices that Hope is intentionally keeping a slight distance, she takes a few steps ahead and starts walking backwards to face us.


    ¡°Welcome to the city of Dust. We have everything a city should have, from galleries, to horse races, and markets with all sorts of strange things, the night markets in particular are stunning with a whole bunch of lights set up along the streets and crazy good foods at every stall.


    ¡°With that broken axle you two will be staying around for a while, is there anything that interests you, anywhere you want to check out?¡±


    Her gaze is almost perfectly stuck on Hope as she says as much. I get it, she is cute, and I¡¯ve had to run off a few guys that have gone after her already.


    ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m looking for somewhere beautiful.¡± Hope says, surprising me by speaking her mind. She¡¯s not usually a complete fool or anything, but she¡¯d usually wait for me to answer in her stead in this situation.


    ¡°Oh, there¡¯s plenty of beautiful sights around here, but good luck finding them on your own. I can show you around the city when you¡¯re free, a service without compare, I assure you.¡± She continues walking backwards even while turning streets. She really is a strange one.


    Gritting my teeth, I look towards Hope, thinking that maybe she¡¯ll turn her down.


    Hope looks back at me, tilting her head a little and blinking.


    ¡°I guess.¡± She says hesitantly.


    Yeah, Hope doesn¡¯t quite get it. I guess she hasn¡¯t really experienced much flirting before, not many potential suitors out in the deserts.


    I breath out a sigh of relief, she can be a bit blind at times, but I trust that things are going to turn out just fine. Hope shouldn¡¯t stray too far from me, and this offer sounds acceptable enough so long as I get to come along too. It will take away a little of our personal time, but in exchange we can get a local to guide us, so it¡¯s not an unbearable loss.


    Sable doesn¡¯t seem the sort to do anything forceful either, though you can never be entirely sure.


    ¡°First, the Madhouse!¡± Sable says, raising a hand in excitement and waving it forwards as she marches us away. The cape that she wears over her shoulders waves out behind her, and I get a look at her from behind. She does have a nice butt, I suppose, and her attitude is quite fun.


    ¡°Why is the city called Dust?¡± I ask, looking about the road, it doesn¡¯t seem particularly dusty or anything.


    ¡°Ah, did you see all the farmland surrounding the city?¡± She asks, turning back towards me and smiling. At least she doesn¡¯t seem to be ignoring me or anything, in fact her smile is just as bright as when she looked at hope. Perhaps I was overthinking things?


    ¡°Yeah, there¡¯s plenty out there.¡± I say, shrugging in confusion.


    ¡°Well, at the end of the autumn harvest, there¡¯s lots of scrap that gets burnt in the fields. It helps revitalise them for the next season, but the fire spreads lots of ash, and it makes the town dusty for months after.¡± She says, ¡°I can¡¯t handle it, I have sneezing fits until it¡¯s gone, and everyone teases me for it.¡±


    ¡°Why do they tease you?¡± Hope asks, walking a little closer to me and giving me a reassuring smile when she notices my attention on her.


    ¡°My sneezes are tiny little things, I just can¡¯t put the proper energy behind it. I build up for this really big sneeze, and then¡­ tsu. Like that!¡± She waves her arms wide, and shakes her head while laughing at herself. ¡°Ah, here we are. The Madhouse!¡±


    The extra-large building is a morphed combination of a stable, an inn, and tavern, but it¡¯s clear that each was once separate and the efforts to combine them were entirely devoid of aesthetic direction. It looks structurally safe, and there¡¯s a strange charm to it for that well maintained, and clean ramshackle look.


    The sign that hangs outside the front door has a simple image of a stein overflowing with foaming beer, alongside the words Meadhouse & Grill, but with the ¡®e¡¯ in meadhouse is scratched out with half-hearted intents.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go talk to Stanley and get you a room.¡± Sable says rushing ahead of us and leaving us out on the street with Shadow and our broken cart. It¡¯s been rolling its way along, just barely, but I¡¯m worried about the wheels falling right off on us.


    ¡°She seems nice.¡± Hope says, looking up and letting out a long sigh. ¡°I worry about people too much; everyone here seems really nice, so far. So, was there anything you wanted to do while we¡¯re here?¡±


    ¡°Hmm?¡± I hum thoughtfully, ¡°I wouldn¡¯t mind walking along the night markets with you. It sounds romantic.¡±


    ¡°Romantic, huh?¡± She asks, blushing a little as she looks down the busy street. People come and go, and all sorts of conversations are going on, but through it all, I think I can barely make out a whisper that makes me smile.


    ~Hope


    ¡°I think I¡¯d like that, too.¡± I say it quietly enough that she shouldn¡¯t be able to hear me. It still feels like I¡¯m doing something wrong whenever I smile, or whenever I think of Fate.


    It¡¯s like a guilty pleasure, enjoyable partly because I know that I shouldn¡¯t be doing this. I should be finding a quiet, beautiful burial spot, as far from the desert as I can get. Then I should wait for the end to come.


    That was my plan for the longest time, but now I have something else filling up all the rest of my days, while I finish this quest.


    ¡°He¡¯s got room in the inn and the stable, and he¡¯ll look at that axle in the morning.¡± Sable says, joining us again huffing proudly as she places her hands on her hips. ¡°Just bring in it in through here.¡±


    Sable opens up the gates and gets us inside, guiding the carriage into place, before we unhitch Shadow. Fate feeds him another apple, which he gladly takes, not letting a single chunk fall from his mouth. He¡¯s a strange horse.


    I look back towards Sable, trying to get a read on her.


    The young woman, wearing that ridiculous purple cape and shirt, painted with that terribly creepy eye, smiles bright and offers no explanation of what her group is.


    The Vigilant.


    Are they a privatised group of guards?


    A cult?


    A volunteer group?


    I¡¯m not quite sure I¡¯m ready to ask, people can be wonderfully nice up until the point you ask them the wrong question. At which point they decide to pull out the pitchforks and try to hang you by your ankles over a fire.


    Everyone seems nice here, but people in general suck. I¡¯m not going to let Fate get herself into trouble like that, so I¡¯ll figure this out and make sure nothing bad happens.


    ¡°I¡¯ll come by again tomorrow!¡± Sable says making her way through the door but turning back to smile and wave a few too many times. Is she just awkward, or is there something more to that?


    ¡°I took a look at that wagon of yours.¡± The large man called Stanley says from across the bar. ¡°It¡¯ll take a good weeks work to get it rolling again, what with how busy I am at the moment. If you¡¯re interested in making a deal, I have a thought.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡± Fate asks, completely innocently leaning on the table, not worried at all that he might just try and attack her or something.


    ¡°We¡¯re having a spring¡¯s end festival in a week to the day, and we¡¯ve been busy as it is. Help out with the tables, and I¡¯ll see to that wagon of yours for free. I¡¯d also be interested in trading for some of that food you have back there, but that¡¯s a separate deal.¡±


    ¡°A weeks work for the axle?¡± Fate says, seeming a little hesitant. ¡°Will we be working the whole time, or¡­?¡±


    Stanley laughs, shaking his head.


    ¡°Festivals for everyone. You¡¯ll have time to enjoy it together, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re asking.¡±


    ¡°It sounds like a deal.¡± Fate says, shaking the man¡¯s greasy hand, before pulling out a few coins. ¡°The room?¡±


    ¡°Room and board is free, too.¡± Stanley says, ¡°I¡¯ll introduce you to Lucette in a moment, she¡¯s the best of my waitresses and she¡¯ll be making sure you get the basics of the job down by the time of the festival.¡±


    ¡°Well, I think we¡¯ll go get ourselves cleaned up and get some dinner then. Do you need help tonight?¡±


    ¡°Start tomorrow. Looks like you two need some rest.¡± He turns away from us to return to the grill that is half the namesake of this shop.


    Fate grabs me by the arm and pulls me up into the room before anything can get in the way of her bath.

 Chapter 22 ~ Madhouse

    ~ Fate


    We rise with the morning sun, it¡¯s light yet hidden by the city walls, warms the sky ringing in a new dawn even for those of us living in shadow. A group of strange young people wearing shirts and capes bearing the purple eye, wander about the streets outside, cleaning up the roads.


    They carry some food that they give out to the few people living on the streets and in the alleys, due to poverty, drunkenness, or both. A fight nearly sparks up, but the leader steps in and calms things down before it can escalate. I¡¯ve known plenty of the sort, those people who just want to shine a little bit brighter.


    I stretch at the table, cracking my knuckles as breakfast settles inside. The oils from the bacon, resisting the milk that tries to wash it down.


    ¡°So, I¡¯ll need some extra hands on the two big days of the festival.¡± Lucette says, her long blonde hair tied up into a braid over her shoulder. ¡°You¡¯ll need to deliver food, take orders, and if any customers want to barter without using money, then just call for me.¡±


    ¡°Does that happen often?¡± I ask.


    ¡°More often than in the past, apparently.¡± She says, shrugging. ¡°The owner doesn¡¯t mind, and it¡¯s a bit of fun for everyone really. Ah, I¡¯ll be back in a second.¡±


    She bounces over to the customer that just walked into the door, laughing at something he says and just hanging about close and getting rather touchy with him. In short moments, she heads over to the kitchen to give the owner the order before returning to us.


    ¡°So, the most important thing is to remember what each patron is asking for and deliver it to them hot.¡± She says. ¡°They¡¯re not expecting perfection, but we should try to give it to them anyway.¡±


    ¡°That sounds rather simple.¡± Hope says, looking around the room with a shrug.


    ¡°Yeah, say that again when you have customers pulling you left and right.¡± She laughs, ¡°You can¡¯t forget anyone, okay? That¡¯s the easiest mistake to make when it gets busy. You also have to pay attention to the quiet ones. They¡¯re less likely to shout to you, and you have to go to them if they¡¯re looking like they need service, got it?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be on the lookout.¡± I say, I can usually read a room pretty well, but I¡¯m really not sure that Hope can handle this all that well. She¡¯s not good with people even normally, will she be able to handle the crowds while working?


    Did I make a mistake, bringing her into this?


    Should I have sorted something else out?


    ¡°If it¡¯s too much for you, I can probably handle working the whole festival.¡± I say to Hope, but she doesn¡¯t seem as concerned as I thought she¡¯d be.


    ¡°Thanks, but I should be okay.¡± She says, the smile she returns doesn¡¯t feel as pressured as before. Maybe she¡¯ll be fine, she was even willing to leave the bones back in our room, though we made sure to secure it all properly.


    ¡°So, that¡¯s cute and all, but who¡¯s up first?¡± Lucette says. ¡°It¡¯ll be easier training you two separately, so I¡¯ll have one of you help me for the morning and through lunch, and the other, dinner and into the evening. Ah, but don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll set things up so you can spend time with each other on the day of the festival.¡±


    ¡°Ah, that sucks¡­¡± I say, rubbing at my head and trying to figure out a solution.


    ¡°You¡¯ll still have the afternoon to explore the city together.¡± She says, ¡°We can make that the morning, or evening if that works better?¡±


    ¡°Evening.¡± Hope says, surprising me by taking the lead. ¡°We¡¯re wanting to visit the evening markets tonight.¡±


    ¡°Ah, well the first shift in the morning to lunch, then the second afternoon to dinner?¡± She suggests. ¡°We need to get you into shape before the festival starts.¡±


    ¡°That should be fine.¡± I say, already loathing how much time we¡¯ll be spending apart. I mean, I¡¯ve heard it said that distance can make the heart grow fonder, but that doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m happy about this.


    ¡°Good morning!¡± Sable shouts, entering the tavern floor and running right over to us before I can come up with an idea to get out of this. ¡°Do you girls have some time? I can show you around all the best places in this city.¡±


    Her offer has to do with Hopes quest, and as much as I hate it, I will not get in the way of that.


    ¡°How about I take the morning shift, then.¡± I say, reaching out and taking Hopes hand. ¡°If you find anything interesting, you¡¯ll have to take me there afterwards though, okay?¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± Hope says, nodding firmly and looking over towards Sable nervously. She shakes off her hesitation and rises from the table. ¡°I have to get something from my room first, also, we have to be back for lunch.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll wait here for you!¡± Sable says, excitedly nodding towards Hope as she leaves up the stairs.


    ¡°Lucette, it¡¯s good to see you again. How are things here?¡± Sable asks, smiling happily. ¡°Everything going okay, you don¡¯t need any extra help?¡±


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°Well, with these two girls helping me, I think it¡¯ll be okay.¡± She replies. ¡°You got a little too much attention from the older guys when you helped us with the drinks.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s because you squeezed me into a dress and messed with my hair!¡± Sable says, shaking her head at Lucette, who chuckles at the memories it surely inspires passing her drink to Sable.


    ¡°Well, you would look good in a dress.¡± I say, and Sable chokes.


    ¡°Okay, I¡¯m ready!¡± Hope says, joining us but now properly equipped with her bag. ¡°What were you talking about?¡±


    ¡°Nothing.¡± Sable says, rushing to her feet. ¡°Let¡¯s get going!¡±


    Hope hesitates to follow for a moment, hanging by the side of the table and looking back at me.


    ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m looking forward to the night market.¡± She says, not waiting for my reply before rushing away. I don¡¯t know what she¡¯s thinking exactly but hearing her say that just makes me feel a little bit happy, Lucette leaps at me the moment that Hope is gone.


    ¡°Are you two a thing?¡± She asks, ¡°Like, love and romance and all that stuff?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I say, ¡°Or well, we¡¯re working on it.¡±


    ¡°Ah, I¡¯ll leave her alone then.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± I ask, surprised by her attitude. ¡°I thought you were into men? What with how you were looking at that customer.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m after anything fun.¡± She says, nodding. ¡°I¡¯m not running around and opening my legs up to anyone, don¡¯t get the wrong idea. I just like flirting. It¡¯s fun. The world has already ended, if we can¡¯t have fun now, then what¡¯s the point?¡±


    ¡°The world has already ended?¡± I ask. ¡°Don¡¯t you mean it¡¯s going to end?¡±


    ¡°Nope. I meant what I said.¡± She replies, smiling and hopping up from the table, handing me an apron. ¡°The world is already over, we¡¯re just reliving our last moments over and over again. Haven¡¯t you ever felt it, like we¡¯ve done this before?¡±


    ¡°Not really.¡± I say, putting the stained apron on and taking the dishes back over to the bar area to be cleaned.


    ¡°Not everyone does.¡± She admits waving goodbye to the man who came in for breakfast. ¡°It¡¯s not really important if you do or not, all that matters is that you keep living happily. This year has been going on for¡­ I don¡¯t know how many cycles, but I know that I¡¯ve met you here before. I know that I¡¯ve worked with you here before, like this, but a little bit different.¡±


    ¡°Huh¡­¡± I try to imagine her words as real, this year repeating on end. For some that would be fine, for others it would be torture. I simply can¡¯t believe it. ¡°Well, I¡¯m looking to see next year, and the year after that. So, I hope you¡¯re wrong about that.¡±


    She chuckles, leaning in close and resting her chin on my shoulder from behind as she surveys the room.


    ¡°It¡¯s not so bad, it¡¯s actually a lot of fun.¡± She says, ¡°Just keep looking for things that make you smile, and everything will be okay.¡±


    ¡°Well, I think I¡¯ve had a nice start to the year.¡± I say, ¡°What about you?¡±


    ¡°Hmmm?¡± She hums thoughtfully, ¡°I think I¡¯m still missing something, but I won¡¯t know what until it comes. It¡¯s exciting in a way, not quite remembering it, but knowing that there¡¯s something fun ahead.¡±


    ¡°I guess so.¡±


    ~ Hope


    Sable weaves through the thick streets like someone well acquainted to the mobs around us, many of them give way to her, or wave as she goes past. She always replies with a smile of her own, trying to bring warmth to this morning still filled with the lingering memories of the cold.


    ¡°The town had it rough a few years ago.¡± She says, grabbing my hand as I nearly lose her in the crowd and shooing off a kid who reaches for my bag. I panic a moment, holding my bag tight with my other hand, but Sable pulls me along through the crowd, her casual demeaner disarms my fright.


    She¡¯s not trying anything yet, and if she does it¡¯s better that Fate isn¡¯t with me. I can more easily fight and run if I don¡¯t have to defend anyone with me.


    Sable¡¯s eyes are placed firmly ahead as she sticks to a path that only she knows. I have to steady my sword so that I don¡¯t accidentally hit people with it as I pass.


    ¡°What happened? It seems¡­ not horrible right now.¡± I say, still focusing on the people around me, those who could turn out to be threats at any moment. I¡¯ve seen even little old ladies turn vicious, when a mob forms.


    ¡°The mayor of the town declared himself lord ruler and started demanding all sorts of crazy things. When he demanded all the women of marriageable age be brought to his mansion, people had enough.¡±


    ¡°You killed him?¡± I ask, as we head up a long winding path. The stairs climb up to building roofs, which then climb up to the roofs of those beside them. I see that the buildings below have been reinforced to handle the added weight of the structures built atop them.


    ¡°That was discussed as an option.¡± Sable says, rubbing at her chin. There¡¯s a small cut on her cheek, but it doesn¡¯t seem to be bothering her. ¡°In the end, we didn¡¯t want it to end in violence, so we stripped him naked and kicked him out of the city gates. A few archers shot arrows at him to keep him moving, and he hasn¡¯t come back since.¡±


    I can¡¯t stop a chuckle from escaping as I imagine it. A big overweight noble, or in this case a mayor, running for his life while the people behind just throw slurs and a few poorly aimed arrows. If that was all that they¡¯d done to my family¡­


    ¡°A good decision.¡± I say. ¡°When you start burning people, I don¡¯t think it really ever stops after that. You just start looking for more and more people to hang over the fire.¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t heard of anything like that happening in the towns around here. Are you from far away?¡± She asks, as we rise up past the expansive city. It¡¯s strange, the casual attention she gives me feels lighter than what I feel with Fate. It¡¯s like I can say anything and none of it will really matter, there¡¯ll be no great consequences that are born from it.


    ¡°I came from across the desert.¡± I say, walking up the last set of stairs. The wind is strong up here, and the rails that have been nailed into place aren¡¯t made to inspire confidence in their safety. ¡°I was a princess, but then¡­ people had enough.¡±


    ¡°That sounds¡­ terrible.¡± Sable says. ¡°You don¡¯t need to be worried about that here. Not unless you try to take over and start causing everyone trouble.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want anything like that.¡± I say, waving my hands in denial.


    ¡°Then you¡¯ll be fine here.¡± Sable says, ¡°We¡¯re here.¡±


    A small lookout rests atop the heights of the city, and from here we can see the full expanse of it.


    It¡¯s¡­ ugly.


    I can¡¯t say as much out loud, but the buildings aren¡¯t beautifully constructed, or even aesthetic in a chaotic sort of way. It¡¯s a mottled brown, an ugly stain surrounding us, and the ordered farmland beyond the walls only carves up patches of land to paint in more ugly colours. The green forest in the distance is the most beautiful thing here, and it¡¯s but a line on the horizon.


    ¡°It¡¯s nice up here, the wind in your hair. If you focus, you can see all the people in the street going about their lives, doing their own things. It makes me wonder what they¡¯re going through.


    ¡°Are they enjoying their lives? Are they having a rough time? What can I do to make all of this city better for everyone here. What can I do to make their smiles a little brighter.¡± Her eyes sparkle as she looks down over the city, seeing something that I simply can¡¯t. It¡¯s not something I¡¯m interested in understanding.


    This isn¡¯t what I¡¯m here for. This isn¡¯t what I want.


    Looking over at Sable, I pull my hand free, and look down over the city.


    I wonder if I can see the Madhouse from here.

 Chapter 23 ~ Night Markets

    The script floats before my eyes, ancient words carved carefully into stone and left for those of us who came after them. A message, that will lead us to salvation, but their empire fell before they could do anything about it.


    I¡¯ve read the words myself. The grand project, spoken of too frequently alongside the great eclipse, the lover¡¯s kiss. They put their everything into this, destroying their entire empire, to see this grand project completed. Maybe it¡¯s some magic shield to protect us, or to blast one of the moons out of orbit.


    Or maybe they even achieved the impossible and mastered teleportation magic, escaping this world like the fae have. If they left behind enough information, I¡¯m sure we can do something with this. We can survive, and our story doesn¡¯t have to come to such an early end.


    My tired eyes just can¡¯t focus on the words anymore, no matter how important this all is, I just can¡¯t make any sense of it. I need to refresh my mind.


    Setting aside the notes that I¡¯ve kept, I walk down from our room, a small thing but enough for us. The stairs rattle a little as I head down them, but it doesn¡¯t quite feel like they¡¯ll fall out from under me. The madhouse has a certain charm of its own that I¡¯ve never come across before, on the bar floor there are plenty of patrons gathered, drinking leisurely as they discuss this or that.


    It¡¯s not impossible to see the few strangers who have come here to find solace in the bottom of their cups, but the majority at least are here for the company. There¡¯s something innately wonderful about being around other humans, talking, and expressing yourself. It¡¯s a part of being human, and on the road Hope and I don¡¯t get much of it.


    Hope is currently running drinks with a stiff expression and a back so straight that you¡¯d think she has a fire poker for a spine. Her eyes shine in the flickering lights as she notices me, her expression loosening into a soft smile, and her strained back returning itself to something closer to normal.


    She¡¯s not good with people and crowds, but for me she puts up with it. Or perhaps it¡¯s for the sake of her quest that she doesn¡¯t want to talk about?


    There¡¯s still so much mystery in the gaps between us. So much that we keep from each other, and lies that we say to comfort one another.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to go out for a little bit.¡± I say to her as she comes over to me. ¡°Are you doing alright? There are no problems?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡± She replies easily, but her expression does stiffen a little more.


    I gently pat her shoulder, as I lean in closer.


    ¡°If you¡¯re having trouble, tell me.¡± I say. ¡°I can do something to help.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine. There¡¯s no trouble.¡± She says, and I don¡¯t think she¡¯s lying. ¡°I¡¯m just getting used to people, is all it is. I¡¯ve never been around this many people before.¡±


    ¡°Never?¡± I ask, a little surprised. ¡°I thought that it might be uncommon but¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡­ there were a few times, but nothing¡­ nothing good.¡± She explains, and I think back to the few things I know of her past.


    ¡°Do you want to talk about it?¡± I offer, wanting to know more about her. ¡°Tonight when we have some privacy?¡±


    ¡°Maybe¡­¡± Hope says, looking away. ¡°I need to get back to work, but make sure you¡¯re back for dinner, we¡¯re going to the night markets remember?¡±


    ¡°I remember.¡± I say, letting her go and releasing a long sigh. What can I do to earn her trust? What can I do so that she¡¯ll feel like she can share these details with me, so we can properly get to know each other?


    Would it be enough to open up with my own past? It¡¯s nothing really worth speaking about, and I doubt it would make her feel comfortable to share her own story.


    Thinking about these things, I make my way down the streets looking for something to inspire me. Maybe I can get her a gift while I¡¯m out.


    She travels light, burdened not by property or gold. While she appreciates the finer things, and I¡¯m sure she could tell a good tea from an average one, I¡¯m not convinced that she really cares about that distinction. So, what can I get a girl who doesn¡¯t seem to care about anything at all?


    The cobblestone streets are clean of trash, and the people are all fairly happy, but still it feels like something is missing. This isn¡¯t enough for me anymore. There¡¯s someone missing from my side, and while it¡¯s not so bad being alone in this crowd, I¡¯m sure that it would be much nicer to have her with me.


    I look for a gift, something to show her my affection, something to make her smile wide. Something that might inspire her to fall deeper for me. I have competition in the form of Sable, and I¡¯m not going to have Hope become confused or get led astray.


    She will fall for me, and together we¡¯ll save this world. We¡¯ll live long and happy lives, dying only at a ripe old age.


    ~Hope


    The work is draining, and not because of the running around. The people are loud, stinky, and obnoxious even when they¡¯re trying to be nice. I can bear with the work knowing that it¡¯s just for a little while, but living like this would be unendurable.


    Lucette somehow enjoys all of this, she¡¯s running circles around me, while wearing a smile bright enough to make the candles flutter with shame. Constantly she¡¯s flirting with the customers, touching them lightly here and there, whispering and saying the most crass of things, but everyone seems to see it as a game.


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    Yet, she does none of this with me.


    ¡°Your shift is done for the night, then¡± She says, smiling cheekily at me as she hangs off of Fates shoulders from across the bar table. Most of the customers have finished up and are ordering nothing but refills on their drinks. ¡°I have someone else helping me tonight, so you two can go do your little date.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± I reply, and even I can hear how wooden my words sound as they come out. Fate is instead blushing a little as she throws Lucette off.


    ¡°To the night markets.¡± Fate says as I pull off my apron.


    It bothers me how close the two are after only just meeting, but I don¡¯t really know whether or not I should say something about it. I don¡¯t really understand relationships, or how any of this stuff is meant to work. What relationship does Fate really want anyway?


    Should we be acting like lovers? Like we¡¯re married? Should we be getting jealous over things like this? I just don¡¯t really know what to say or do about it all.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± Fate says, pulling at my hand and leading us away. We¡¯re both rather hungry since we haven¡¯t had anything to eat, apparently the food stalls in the night markets are something to experience so it¡¯s no good filling up before we get there. That¡¯s what Lucette was telling us, at least.


    ¡°Do you know where we¡¯re going?¡± I ask, squeezing her hand. She grabbed onto me so naturally, and while it¡¯s hardly the most intimate thing we¡¯ve done together, there¡¯s a simple warmth in my chest at the casual nature of it.


    ¡°I checked it out beforehand.¡± She says. ¡°I wanted to make sure that it was just you and me. I¡¯m sure Sable is very nice, but I still want some time with just the two of us.¡±


    ¡°Me too.¡± I admit, relaxing a little. Sable is a strange person, and she¡¯s easy to talk to because of how distant she is from me. I don¡¯t need to worry that she¡¯ll spread rumours or get a bad impression from my stories. Fate is different, I don¡¯t want her to ever think badly of me.


    ¡°How were the places she showed you?¡± Fate asks. ¡°Was there anything that caught your eye? Anywhere we should visit ourselves?¡±


    ¡°I can show you if you want.¡± I say, ¡°It wasn¡¯t that nice, the city is ugly no matter what angle you look at it from.¡±


    ¡°Hey now.¡± Fate stops me, ¡°Don¡¯t go saying things like that. There¡¯s plenty of people who think this city is beautiful, I¡¯m sure, and I know you¡¯re just saying that because you haven¡¯t looked at it in the right way.¡±


    ¡°You think it can compare to a beautiful mountain, or a lake?¡± I ask, thinking of those serene and beautiful landscapes. ¡°I don¡¯t believe you.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± Fate chuckles into her hand. ¡°Let¡¯s see what you think later on. I¡¯m certain that you¡¯ll see something that will change your mind.¡±


    Her smirk comes alive in her eyes even if she covers her lips.


    ¡°Well, I wouldn¡¯t really feel bad about being wrong.¡± I admit, following her into the crowds that are growing slightly more dense the further we go. ¡°How much further?¡±


    ¡°Almost there.¡± She says, pulling me towards a gathering of floating lights. At first they seem like magic, like the spirit lights that infest swamps, but when we get closer I can see that they¡¯re actually paper lanterns. Thousands of them, all glowing together to brighten the city streets.


    Stalls are set up along both sides of the road, busy with many more customers. The laughter spreads from one person to the next, and a few people shout in disappointment as they fail at some game or another, yet it¡¯s always with a smile.


    The lantern light surrounds us from all angles, dispelling shadows before they can even be born. The warm colours spreading throughout the street, and to the people here with us.


    There are still drinks and those who enjoy them, but there aren¡¯t as many drunkards, and those few that I do see are exuberant rather than angry or depressed. What¡¯s more, it doesn¡¯t feel fake. There¡¯s no layers of deception to be cut through, and the inevitable doom coming for us all seems to be genuinely forgotten about in the confines of these lights.


    ¡°This is the same every night.¡± Fate says. ¡°It¡¯s not some celebration that harkens the end of times. It¡¯s just a place for people to come and enjoy themselves.¡±


    She leads me over to a stand, buying something from the man there, tending to a cooking plate. The fried noodles he¡¯s cooking are sizzling atop it, and the smell is intense, but quickly it¡¯s drowned out as we step deeper into the party with our paper bowls and small meals.


    There are entertainers that will occasionally march down the street, breaking through the crowd that gives way for them. A few men and woman walk on tall stilts skilfully moving about and playing with the crowd. Others are dressed in ridiculous costumes dancing and singing and twirling about.


    Dozens of stalls sell cheap but colourful knickknacks, accessories that seem far nicer in the strange lights of the night markets. The merchants don¡¯t even really seem to care about ripping people off, or anything the like, just enjoying their time here and talking to their customers.


    We move from food stall to food stall, eating all sorts of strange things that I¡¯ve never before seen or heard of. The foods are poor, but flavoured strong. If my head wasn¡¯t floating in the clouds, it¡¯d probably taste rather bad, in fact.


    Fate is with me through it all, buying a strange wooden hair clip coloured lime green and vibrant orange. A gift that carries no value, but seems so much more meaningful right now than any gold or silver. The clashing colours filled with the same bright nature as the small world around us.


    Fate sings when we pass by the marching musicians, and pulls me into a dance when the crowd clears enough for it. It¡¯s nothing at all like the ballroom dances I once knew, the movements chaotic and made up on the spot.


    Her smile brightened by the atmosphere around us, makes me forget my anxieties for a moment. The people around us no longer something to be feared, and the future a distant thing that we need not worry ourselves over.


    As the night drags on, and the food stalls pack up one by one. The lights start to dim, and people head back to their homes.


    The illusion fades, not disappearing fully yet, but waning.


    In the shadows that are now visible, I can see tired eyes and grumpy expressions. People packing up their businesses, or wandering about in search of something they couldn¡¯t find in the light.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go to that place that Sable took you.¡± Fate says, her cheeks flushed red as she pulls me along, not knowing where it is that we¡¯re going. She looks adorable, whether we stand in the light or the shadow.


    I lead her the right way, and we stumble up the dangerous flight of stairs, using a borrowed paper lantern to light our path. While this is certainly more dangerous than it was in the day, I can feel none of it.


    My head sits light on my shoulders as I walk up to the tallest lookout. Just earlier today, this sight disgusted me, a mottled brown stain upon natures beauty.


    Now the browns are hidden in darkness, and warm reds and yellows ignite the town in a thousand pinpricks of light. The sparkling motes float on a sea of darkness, swimming slowly here and there as men and women walk the streets with their torches and lanterns.


    ¡°It¡¯s beautiful isn¡¯t it?¡± Fate says. ¡°Each one of these lights is a person, staying awake to help fight off the darkness. Each and every person here, is struggling to live on even as the ghost of day pulls them towards their beds.


    ¡°They¡¯re struggling to maintain their imperfect lives.¡± Fate says, leaning against my side. ¡°Isn¡¯t it inspiring?¡±


    I turn to look at her, and there in her eyes the lights shine ever the brighter. Gathered together in her twisted dreams, her delusions of a future and a present that I simply can¡¯t believe in.


    Reaching out a hand I pull her closer and take in the sight, my senses slowly returning to me. Even with a clear mind, I can still faintly see the beauty of this city as if seeing it through her eyes.


    A beautiful lie.

 Chapter 24 ~ A Great Hunt

    Darkness gives way to new light and day dawns over Dust, a city of endless hues of brown and painted in thousands of shadows born from tall walls and towering structures. The mirage of beauty that stunned me a moment in the night is stripped away by the clear vision of morning, and though I¡¯ve had little time to rest there is work to be about.


    I let Fate sleep in through the morning, as I know that she¡¯s quite awful when it comes to forcing herself to rise with the sun. She can struggle through with desperate willpower, as she manages every other morning, but she deserves a good chance to sleep today.


    Lucette is happy enough for my help and orders me around, showing me what to do when I make a fool of myself, which is more often than I¡¯d like. I may be remembered as the waitress who tripped and tossed breakfast all over the ceiling, but for no longer than a year. Nothing to be embarrassed about when all the witnesses are dead, and I don¡¯t even need to do anything but wait.


    It seems that through some conspiracy on part of Lucette and the shop owner we¡¯re keeping the lights low this morning, and half the windows remain shuttered. While some customers come here for breakfast, they¡¯re not so eager and energetic as our flirtatious waitress.


    Nursing hangovers, they barely converse as they shovel their oily breakfast down their gullets, but still, I hear the occasional chuckle as they glance at me, or the ceiling still dripping with gooey, yellow egg yolk.


    ¡°Not born for this work, then?¡± Lucette asks, leaning on the counter as she looks over our customers, all of them are stuck in their meals, hiding from the light.


    ¡°No.¡± I reply, not knowing what else I can say about it.


    ¡°So, you and Fate, huh?¡± Lucette asks, glancing at me, her lips quirked up at the edges. I just know that she has some sort of strange misconception about us, but I¡¯m not sure what to do to correct her, or if it¡¯s even worth the effort.


    ¡°We¡¯re travelling companions,¡± I explain. ¡°We¡¯re just keeping each other company until the lover¡¯s embrace.¡±


    ¡°Sounds to me like you¡¯re working yourself towards perfection,¡± she says.


    ¡°It¡¯s just keeping good company, until the end,¡± I say, staring up towards my room.


    ¡°A perfect end will be a perfect eternity lived over and again.¡± Lucette smiles at me, waving her arms around us. ¡°When the time comes, at the very end, and the lover¡¯s embrace in the sky above us, you don¡¯t need to be sad. This world, this endless world, will start again from the beginning, we¡¯ll turn the pages and live through this life once more from the first page.¡±


    Another delusion to find hope in despair, but what is wrong with it? What is wrong with living in a beautiful delusion if the alternative is to see the flames rising around us, the death coming for us. Belief in gods, in religion, or in simple mad delusion, can keep the suffering at bay.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, you don¡¯t have to believe,¡± she says, pulling me along to gather the dishes of those who have finished and left. A few coins are traded cheap and easy, considering how little value they have anymore. People are living off of momentum, pulled ahead by the patterns we learned to survive through the years prior, but we are changing in some ways too.


    ¡°So, are you taking this seriously?¡± Lucette asks. ¡°Fate can¡¯t hold up a relationship alone, you know.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s¡­ I just¡­¡±


    ¡°There are a few things about this feast that you might not know about yet, if you want to give Fate a nice surprise¡­¡± She smiles playfully, a gleam in her eyes showing just how much fun she¡¯s having with this.


    ~~ Fate


    Days have passed as we train ourselves into barely competent waitresses, and Hope has grown more reticent with the passing days. Something has been on her mind, and she¡¯s loath to speak with me about it, just like with the bones she carries with her.


    I want to be patient, to let this relationship develop how it will, but at the same time, it¡¯s so frustrating. I know she doesn¡¯t want me prying about in her private life, but we¡¯re companions, even if we¡¯re not true lovers. Can¡¯t she open up a little?


    ¡°What do you think Shadow?¡± I ask him, brushing him down. ¡°Am I just being clingy and bothersome? Should I just give up and let this be what it is?¡±


    He stares back at me, obviously uninterested in all my prattling. I was hoping that Lucette could be my ally, that I could talk with her about all these things, but now every time I complain she just tightens her lips and gets this strange shine in her eyes.


    Finishing up with the brushing, I feed him an apple, after which he turns from me and ignores me. I¡¯ll have to take him out for a walk later, keeping him stabled here has to be rough on him.


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    When I return to the inn, there¡¯s already a meeting coming together. It¡¯s a strange time for it, considering it¡¯s still midday, but it¡¯s not my place to question their business practices.


    ¡°So, today we have a few things we have to do to prepare for the feast, and the springs end festival.¡± Stanley, the proprietor of the Madhouse, says as we gather about with a few customers that have taken interest. ¡°We¡¯re going to be having a proper feast here, and I¡¯ve got the hunters out looking for a proper giant boar for the occasion.


    ¡°We¡¯ll need an oven to cook the bastard, and a few tables set up in the stables and the streets.¡± He goes through the plans, walking us around his establishment and waving out at the areas that need change.


    Much of the work is being done by customers who couldn¡¯t pay any other way. Plenty of adventurous locals are out the front preparing themselves for the hunt, chatting and laughing about this or that. Lame jokes all seem so much funnier in a group that are happy to hear them.


    The festival is approaching, and after it¡¯s done we¡¯ll be on our way.


    It won¡¯t be long before our wagon is repaired, and this city too is left behind us. Even if the world goes on, this moment, this festival, this day will be gone. I want to enjoy it properly.


    ¡°We¡¯ll be working the tables, it¡¯ll just be way busier than normal,¡± Lucette says pulling me aside so that we can get back to the work of the day. Hope has finished already and is walking around with Sable as they listen to the plans for the hunt and the giant oven being built to cook the giant boar.


    ¡°Then we¡¯ll be off. Is there anything that you can think of that I can do for Hope?¡± I ask. ¡°She¡¯s still so focused on the coming apocalypse, and I just want to find something that will take her attention off of it all.¡±


    ¡°Is that really all you¡¯re after? Or do you want a romantic evening at a lover¡¯s lookout or something the like? Do you want to show her the world?¡± Lucette giggles, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and leaning in close to my ear. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about all that, just focus on your work, and those strange old translations of yours.¡±


    ¡°My translations?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve noticed you looking through them now and again.¡± Lucette shrugs, looking over towards Sable and Hope. ¡°It¡¯s your eternal quest, an ancient mystery to uncover. Just stay focused on that, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll figure it out.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I was asking about,¡± I reply. ¡°I was-¡±


    ¡°I said, don¡¯t worry about it,¡± Lucette says, pressing her finger on my lips. ¡°It¡¯s all going to be okay, just focus on your own thing and let the festival come.¡±


    ¡°You have something planned?¡± I ask, suspiciously. She doesn¡¯t reply laughing cutely as she waves over towards Hope.


    ~~Hope


    Fate is awfully close with Lucette, the flirtatious little minx doesn¡¯t seem to have any limits on who she goes after, does she? I mean, it¡¯s not like I can say anything, I haven¡¯t made any claim on Fate officially, I¡¯m just¡­ just what?


    She did offer me an idea of something that I could do, but should I? Wouldn¡¯t that be too much? Fate definitely wouldn¡¯t want me taking things between us so seriously, I know it, but¡­ maybe I should.


    Maybe it¡¯s not so bad an idea to do something stupid while I can. The witnesses won¡¯t be alive for long enough to judge me for it.


    ¡°Hope?¡± Sable asks, waving a hand before me. ¡°Hope?¡±


    ¡°Sorry, I wasn¡¯t paying attention.¡± I say, ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°Do you want to join the hunt?¡± She asks, ¡°I¡¯m a rather good shot with a bow I¡¯ll have you know, I¡¯ll take down that great boar handily.¡±


    ¡°The boar¡­ I suppose I can go.¡± I say, hesitantly glancing over at Fate and Lucette. I don¡¯t want to leave them alone together, but there is something I can do to change things, to make these last few meaningless months a little more interesting, so long as it doesn¡¯t go disastrously wrong.


    ¡°Great!¡± Sable pulls me out by the hand joining with the hunting group. Many of them are parading themselves around dressed in clothes adorned with the same purple eye that I¡¯ve been seeing everywhere around here.


    ¡°Sable, you¡¯re joining us after all?¡± A large man shouts, the broad smile on his lips telling of his affection for Sable. ¡°You¡¯re joining us too, young lady?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be coming along,¡± I reply, trying to appear as if I belong. I¡¯m sure it¡¯s not working but for Sable¡¯s sake they pretend as if I don¡¯t look silly here with them. I check my sword, it¡¯s in good condition still and I know it would be fine out in the deserts, but it¡¯s not generally considered a hunting weapon.


    ¡°Have you experience with a bow?¡± The man asks.


    ¡°I do not,¡± I reply hesitantly.


    ¡°I¡¯ll protect her,¡± Sable says, smiling broadly as the man brings her a bow. It¡¯s unstrung, but even so, the size of it is impressive. It¡¯s a good two metres long, only becoming a little more manageable once strung, the arrows that come with it are more like little spears.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go hunt!¡± Sable shouts, waving the bow in the air and pulling me along into the small parade of hunters marching out toward the city gates and the forest beyond. There¡¯s nothing here so terrifying as in the desert, and I don¡¯t feel I have to worry for my life, but there is always a danger to something like this.


    Fate waves me off with a wide smile, Lucette hanging off of her side as they stand at the entrance of the Madhouse.


    ¡°Don¡¯t do anything too dangerous.¡± She calls to me.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be back shortly,¡± I say, waving her goodbye. I see a few people among the hunters kissing their paramours in goodbye, but I¡¯m sure that it would be unwelcome if I were to press myself on Fate in the same way. Our affections are a substitute for something that should have been but never was, there is no true love between us, no wonderous unreal thing like from the storybooks.


    There is some lust, physical satisfaction, there is some warmth of having another person near, but there is nothing that would make for a good story. We¡¯re settling for each other because that¡¯s all we have. This feeling is just another fitful delusion to comfort those of us who do not have the real thing.


    I settle my expectations and embrace the silly lie as I stride out the city gates on a hunt for a great beast. The bones rattle gently in the bag at my side, a soft sound that I can only hear because I¡¯m so focused on it.


    Magic hangs in the air around us, surrounding us as more and more hunters join the parade. This city has more than one feast to prepare for, and there are thousands of hunters looking to make this spring¡¯s end a good final farewell to a season we¡¯ll never again know.


    The wind stirs with impossible energies, pulling my feet along under me and pulling at the heavier thoughts that would weigh me down. We march together in a hunter¡¯s band, bigger and louder than we ought to be, but somehow I know that we¡¯ll find our prey regardless.

 Chapter 25 ~ Duality

    The path ahead is dry and dusty, worn in by the pounding of countless feet over innumerable decades. People have walked this path since the city¡¯s founding, and likely long before, as well. The forest trees part for us, the grasses and ferns do not hinder us, and not even a low branch slows our way as we, the hunters, rush out toward our prey.


    A magical wind pushes at our backs, guiding our feet onward. Those who lead the hunt seem the most invigorated but even at the back of the pack, I can feel its effects drawing me in. Dark shadows linger at the edge of sight, invisible to the reckless hunters drawn deeper into the forest.


    Magic draws us in, pulling and pushing us onwards. Does anyone know the reason why? Can we trust in this power that draws us into the forest?


    If Fate were with us, she wouldn¡¯t question it. I¡¯m sure the magic would bring a skip to her step. Her silly smile comes to mind as the trees race by, and the birds lilting songs remind me of the lilting songs she sings as she stirs stew over a campfire.


    Have I become so affected by her presence?


    I race a little faster to keep ahead of the shadows, but a burden heavy on my shoulders would slow me down as solitude brings back thoughts of duty. The one task that I wish to see done before the end of everything.


    ¡°What¡¯s the meaning of love?¡± I ask Sable, as she keeps apace with me. It¡¯s something important to Fate, but I don¡¯t fully understand why.


    The long-haired young hunter trips over her own feet as she hears me, and I have to quickly dodge to the side to avoid getting caught up in her stumble. Straightening out her hair, she looks back at me with a tense smile.


    ¡°Why do you ask?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a distraction, isn¡¯t it?¡± I say. ¡°People should be out hunting, farming, or making things, not stewing in silly emotions.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m glad that we still feel love and don¡¯t just live for work,¡± Sable chuckles to herself. ¡°I think it¡¯s so that we don¡¯t go mad. Wouldn¡¯t life be lonely without someone to love, without family?¡±


    My hand reaches for my bag without any thought of my own. Bones that weigh more for the memories of what couldn¡¯t be.


    The sun still beats down on me through the thin canopy above, and sand still manages to hide in the seams of my boots even after this much time away. In many ways, we never actually left the desert.


    I just have to find some quiet place to find some rest, that¡¯s my task. It¡¯s my reason to live. I know that I shouldn¡¯t let myself be distracted by silly thoughts and feelings, but Fate has forced her way into my mind.


    ¡°It¡¯s thrilling, isn¡¯t it?¡± Sable says, drifting closer. ¡°You¡¯ve never hunted a boar before, have you?¡±


    ¡°No, what do I need to know?¡±


    ¡°Stay away from its tusks,¡± she says, nodding seriously as she considers her words.


    There¡¯s a cheerfulness to her that reminds me a little of Fate, the wind at her back stirs her long hair as she gazes off into a far distant future that I¡¯m blind to. I¡¯m not sure what to think of her considering it¡¯s a bloody hunt that we¡¯re chasing so cheerfully.


    ¡°We¡¯ll surround it and wear it down with spears and arrows.¡± She says, ¡°If it charges, you get out of the way and don¡¯t try hiding behind trees either, that¡¯ll get you got. Stay with me, and I¡¯ll make sure you¡¯re never in any danger.¡±


    I nod in quiet approval. I know from hunting in the desert that the one thing that will keep you alive is knowing your prey. I¡¯m one of the few people who can hunt in that damned place, but it¡¯s not because I¡¯m special. It¡¯s because I know how the monsters there move, and I know how to hurt them.


    I¡¯m unfamiliar with boars, however.


    ¡°You¡¯re fit,¡± Sable says, looking me up and down before focusing on my face.


    ¡°I am,¡± I reply. I don¡¯t really know how I¡¯m supposed to respond to a comment like that, should I return the compliment?


    ¡°That¡¯s good,¡± Sable says, her voice a little weak as she lets the topic die.


    By noble standards, I¡¯ve put my foot in my mouth, but then again, those standards would have Sable cut down for impropriety. I¡¯m sure that we¡¯re both glad for a little awkwardness instead.


    ¡°Boar! Boar! Ahead!¡± The shout carries through the hunters ahead of us, and we are ready to face the beast.


    ~~ Fate


    ¡°Is this your order?¡± I set down the eggs and pork cutlets before the young man.


    ¡°Thank you, the extra smile makes it that much sweeter,¡± he says with a playful smirk, his eyes sparkling bright.


    ¡°Well, I hope it goes well with the chilli sauce. Be careful, it¡¯s hotter than most people are prepared for.¡± I warn him happily, heading back to the kitchen for the next dish.


    The people here are largely well behaved and those who take it too far are reined in by the others. Those with the purple eye mark on their clothes take it the most seriously, but unlike the grumpy guards I grew up around, these people do it with enthusiasm.


    ¡°Do you think they¡¯re safe?¡± I ask Lucette the moment business slows down a bit. A young woman plays the harmonica on a stage that¡¯s still being set up, serving as entertainment for everyone gathering at the tables.


    ¡°They¡¯re fine,¡± Lucette says. ¡°I¡¯d trust Sable more than anyone alive. Your pretty little lover will come back to us safe and sound. Maybe you should be more worried that she¡¯ll be charmed by one of our fine hunters?¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so,¡± I say chuckling to myself as I think of her. She¡¯s so stuck in her own mind sometimes that she just doesn¡¯t notice the intents of those around her. She¡¯s guarded against ill intentions but doesn¡¯t seem interested in anything else.


    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°You¡¯re too confident in yourself,¡± Lucette says. ¡°It would help to be a little more worried about her.¡±


    ¡°I am worried about her,¡± I say. ¡°I know that she hunts beasts in the desert, and I¡¯ve seen her fighting bandits before, but I¡¯m still worried that she might get hurt. That she might¡­¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m worried that she might find somewhere beautiful without me,¡± I say.


    ¡°That¡¯s a strange thing to worry about.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing, just forget about it.¡±


    ¡°Still, it sounds like Sable really does have a habit of crushing on the wrong girls,¡± Lucette says.


    ¡°You think Sable will try going for her?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, he¡¯s a gentleman. He¡¯ll try to charm her, but he won¡¯t take things too far or anything.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, ¡®he¡¯?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Ah, yeah.¡± She chuckles to herself. ¡°He¡¯s got more feminine charm than most women, right?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not joking, right? Are you sure she¡¯s a ¡®he¡¯?¡± I ask. ¡°Like, sure, sure?¡±


    ¡°Ah, that¡¯s why we usually avoid the topic,¡± Lucette says, with a difficult expression passing over her face. ¡°He doesn¡¯t really like talking about it, and it seems rude to talk about it behind his back. That said, he is definitely a guy.¡±


    ¡°But he¡¯s¡­¡± Everything about Sable makes him seem like a girl, but now that I think about it, his chest is rather flat. Still¡­


    ¡°No one really knows why he¡¯s like that. It could be magic, a curse, or his mother¡¯s blood could just be really strong. In the end, it doesn¡¯t matter. Sable is Sable.¡±


    ¡°I guess so.¡±


    I¡¯m not all that interested in whispering about people behind their backs, and I¡¯ve no interest in the content of Sable¡¯s pants one way or the other. I don¡¯t think it¡¯ll affect Hopes feelings either way.


    It shouldn¡¯t.


    I doubt anything would happen on this hunt to change their relationship.


    Lucette rushes off with an order, laughing at some awkward joke from a group of young men. The way she handles it and plays along so easily speaks of her experience as a waitress, she really does enjoy this.


    ¡°Lucette, how would you make someone fall in love with you?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡± She asks, raising a brow.


    ¡°Hope, I have less than a year to make her fall in love, otherwise¡­¡± I shake the very idea from my head. ¡°Let¡¯s just say that I¡¯m selfish and want her to love me. What can I do?¡±


    ¡°She hasn¡¯t already fallen for you? From what you¡¯ve said, you¡¯ve gone a few steps past that.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a difference between this and that,¡± I say. ¡°A distance between us, even when¡­ you know. We¡¯re travel companions playing at love. I want us to be more than that.¡±


    ¡°It sounds to me like you¡¯re gloating,¡± Lucette laughs at me. ¡°If you want to plan a date and get the attention of your lover, then you don¡¯t need to worry too much.¡±


    Her smirk tells me that she already has something in mind.


    ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°This festival, well every festival, has a love test, or trial, or game, or something to weasel the coins from the lovestruck couples. You didn¡¯t have that back where you¡¯re from?¡±


    ¡°Ah, that could be fun.¡±


    ¡°Good, because you¡¯re participating.¡± Lucette¡¯s smile proves that she¡¯s hiding something from me, but it seems to me like it might be better if I don¡¯t press on the details. I doubt she¡¯d do anything dangerous.


    ¡°What should I do?¡± I ask.


    ¡°When they come back with the boar and we get it cooking, you¡¯ll have to challenge Hope to the trial of the moons,¡± she says. ¡°I¡¯ll get everything ready, just make the announcement nice and loud for me.¡±


    ¡°Now I¡¯m getting excited wondering what sort of game this is,¡± I say, smiling at the thought. I haven¡¯t done anything like this since I was a kid, and I¡¯ve missed the fun of it.


    ¡°Hope will like it, won¡¯t she?¡± I wonder, thinking of the girl. If she comes back wounded, I¡¯ll have to take good care of her until she¡¯s better again.


    To distract myself, I turn back to the ancient script I¡¯ve been working through translating. I haven¡¯t found anything useful yet, but I already know where we¡¯re going next. I¡¯m sure they had a way to save us from the end of the world.


    ~~ Hope


    The boar trembles in rage, enough bloodied spears and arrows sticking out from its thick hide that it looks like a massive hedgehog, but for the terrible tusks that grow from its face.


    It snorts loud as it charges a young man, kicking up chunks of dirt and tearing through the small gap between trees. The hunter runs into a thicker part of the forest, barely escaping the massive tusks that are pulled up and around the nearest tree, tearing it down and onto the boy.


    Spears thrust into the beast¡¯s side before it pulls back, trying to catch the hunters with its savage tusks. It¡¯s slowed down since the fight began, its breathing has become heavy as foam spills from its lips.


    It struggles to live, even as the world would tear it down to the ground, but it will lose. Old scars tell the story of a dozen fights that this tremendous creature has survived, but this time is different. It will fall and die, no matter how hard it fights.


    It¡¯s the same for us.


    I meet the boar¡¯s wild eyes and it huffs a desperate breath. We stand frozen in the moment, and slowly realization takes the beast. It sees its own end.


    It gives in.


    The hunt continues, but the beast¡¯s movements are nothing more than dying instincts. Responses that it¡¯s trained into its flesh over years, now pointless.


    Sable looses the last shot, piercing the beast¡¯s thick hide with an arrow the length of a short spear. The shot must hit the boar¡¯s heart because it finally falls dead, the empty eyes becoming still.


    The pain is gone.


    All worries, gone.


    By the side of a gurgling creek, the giant boar comes to rest.


    I retreat as the others remove the spears and arrows from the corpse and get ready to move it. It¡¯s too big to be carried, but we have donkeys and a large wagon that barely manages to fit between trees. Lifting it to the wagon, and then getting the overburdened wagon free of the forest will be a challenge just as nasty as the hunt itself.


    Sable is leading the effort with some of her friends, even the injured young man, nearly crushed by a tree, joins in the cheerful efforts. Is this what a successful hunt is supposed to be like? Happy? Cheerful?


    The quiet bubbling of the stream takes me away as the dappled sunlight shines through the silent forest. There are rocks strewn throughout the bottom of the creek, and a few small fish, about the size of a fingernail, swimming against the current.


    Fallen leaves drift atop the water before drifting ashore or getting stuck on rocks that pierce the surface of the flowing water.


    There was a spot like this just behind the castle I grew up in. My sister and I would frequently hide away back there, though I haven¡¯t thought of it in a long, long time. We could talk there free of any servants and their curious ears, it was an important place to us.


    The cool waters of the stream wash down from the mountains, it stains red with blood where the hunters clean their spears and arrows.


    ¡°Is this place good enough?¡± I ask, pressing my fingers into the soil and reaching for the bag at my side. ¡°Is it okay if¡­ If I give up, too?¡±


    I move to unstrap the bag, but for some reason, the knot won¡¯t come loose. When I force the string loose it whips around snapping at my fingers.


    I clutch the bag to my chest as I look down at the flowing waters. There¡¯s no point to fighting on, why shouldn¡¯t I just give up and let it all end here?


    ¡°Hope, there you are!¡± Sable says, jumping close to my side. ¡°We¡¯re leaving, are you ready to come with us?¡±


    This isn¡¯t the place I remember, and it wouldn¡¯t be a proper place to bury her. We didn¡¯t cross the desert just to long for the home we left behind, the home that was burnt down behind us.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t it either,¡± I say, standing and following Sable.


    She tries to talk to me, but I can¡¯t find the spirit to hold up my half of the conversation. The other hunters struggle with the donkeys and the wagon, and it takes much longer on our return journey than it took to get out here.


    As the day drifts away, the shadows lengthen. A trail of dripped blood marks our path as we leave behind the wilds for the open roads to the city.


    The city has been transformed in the short time we¡¯ve been away, lights and lanterns fill the streets, and for a moment they banish the darkness of the world. The Madhouse is twice as done up as any of the other shops, with a massive oven ready for the pig.


    There is fate, her glasses reflecting the bright lights around her, while her long blonde hair bounces with her every skipping step. Her smile welcomes me back, as she notices me.


    ¡°Hope, there you are!¡± she says.


    She trips over a fallen chair, and I rush in to catch her before she falls. She¡¯s covered in sweat from working all day long, she relaxes in my arms as I lift her to her feet.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± she says, smiling bright. ¡°Come on, it¡¯ll be starting soon.¡±

 Chapter 26 ~ Trial of the Two Moons

    ~~Fate


    The feast starts as anyone would expect, with the liberal pouring of drinks as the smells coming from the kitchen get stomachs working. A few extra hands have come in to help out with the work today, and it¡¯s rather amusing to have some of the familiar customers running drinks and plates to pay off their debts.


    Hope is lost in the mash of people even while clinging to my hand, barely keeping her sword from slapping into legs left and right. Even the outdoor setting is cramped for all the people that have come to celebrate the end of spring.


    It seems that pressed flowers are a big deal today, and all sorts of vibrant examples are hung up on walls or pinned to clothes. Maybe there¡¯s some hidden meaning behind it, or maybe it¡¯s just that they¡¯re beautiful, and it¡¯s a nice way to remember the spring that¡¯ll soon be gone.


    ¡°It¡¯s busy,¡± Hope says, awkwardly shifting about beside me. Lucette has ensured that we¡¯re given this chance to be together and prepare us for the challenge that she might as well have pressed us into.


    ¡°Everyone wants to let loose,¡± I say, pressing up against her side and watching the people move around us. It¡¯s always interested me to see how people move, the way we weave between one another. There¡¯s common respect here, an order to the chaos that comes to mind at the sight.


    ¡°I want to have fun today too,¡± I say, squeezing her hand.


    ¡°Me too,¡± she says, shivering slightly as she reaches for the bag at her side. The collection of bones weighing her down, I want to know, but I¡¯m not sure that I want to ask.


    ¡°For today, let¡¯s try to forget everything,¡± I say. ¡°Let¡¯s just have fun.¡±


    She nods, and a small smile lifts the edges of her lips. Her burdens aren¡¯t gone but for my sake, she¡¯s trying to have a good time. I¡¯ll have to find some more places away from people, as much as she tries to put up with it, she isn¡¯t the same person in a city as she is when it¡¯s just us.


    ¡°Found you,¡± Lucette says, rushing up to the two of us. Sable awkwardly hangs by her side, looking at the pair of us with slightly downcast eyes, and a measure of confusion and disbelief colouring his expression.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you supposed to be working?¡± I ask. The tables are all being served by young men and women who haven¡¯t been able to pay their bills in days past, guided by a few familiar waitresses.


    ¡°I am working,¡± she says in a fake huff, ¡°I¡¯m making sure that our two most important customers don¡¯t fluff about. There was something that you have to say to Hope, isn¡¯t there?¡±


    Lucette presses her finger right into my face. She¡¯s having too much fun, I just hope that it¡¯ll be a fraction as interesting for us as well.


    I turn to Hope, ignoring Lucette and Sable.


    ¡°Hope, I challenge you to a trial of the moons,¡± I declare, turning to her. She raises a brow but doesn¡¯t say anything.


    ¡°Louder!¡± Lucette demands, ¡°How will the gods hear you over all this racket? Louder!¡±


    ¡°I challenge you to a trial of the moons!¡± I shout, bursting out laughing as the crowd turns to look at us. Just shouting out this loud makes me feel alive, joy bursting to life in my chest. Even Hope is smiling, though a little guarded still.


    ¡°You heard her!¡± Lucette says, calling to the crowd. ¡°We¡¯ve got the drinks, let¡¯s get this started!¡±


    A few more groups shout out their own challenges, some in a drunken stupor and others with genuine passions. Even some strangers seem to be joining in on the fun.


    ¡°Drinks?¡± Hope asks, leaning in close to me as the crowd surges around us.


    She doesn¡¯t get an answer, not until we¡¯re forced to a table right near the ovens, a coveted spot that might as well be a stage where all of us challengers are set to face one another. Massive flagons are sitting here waiting for us, filled to the brim with a thick golden syrup.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± I ask. ¡°What¡¯s the trial of the two moons?¡±


    ¡°Well, a little history lesson for participants,¡± Lucette says, standing on the table and riling up the crowd. ¡°Our lovely little trial started in the ancient days of this city of dry Dust. Back then, life was hard, and fights filled the streets in the evening. There was violence in the streets every night until enough was enough, and we decided to find a new solution to our problems.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    ¡°Drinking!¡± The crowd cheers at her declaration, I can¡¯t say that I¡¯m surprised.


    ¡°Every fight is to be decided by drinking matches! The most powerful brews, matched drink for drink, sip for sip. Most people ended up forgetting exactly what they were fighting over.¡±


    ¡°A drinking game?¡± I ask, sitting opposite Hope who looks at the drink queasily.


    ¡°That¡¯s how it started, then we stumbled upon a magic brew. We still don¡¯t know how the family makes it, but they¡¯ve kept the secret for generations. This drink ends every fight and every feud.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not fighting¡­¡± I say, wondering how this has anything to do with the two moons.


    ¡°Then what sort of couple are you?¡± Lucette asks, earning some chuckles from the crowd. ¡°Do you know why this became a lover¡¯s trial? Because after a few years we realized that the only feuds we had left were married couples.


    ¡°Drink, and the moons will show you the world through the other¡¯s eyes,¡± Lucette says, stepping down from the table. ¡°After that, we start the feast and the games.¡±


    ¡°The moons aren¡¯t even in the sky,¡± I say, pointing up at the slight cloud cover.


    Lucette laughs, staring up into the sky.


    ¡°They¡¯re not?¡± She asks, tilting her head with a knowing smile.


    ~~Hope


    I¡¯ll see the world as she sees it?


    I glance at Fate over the cup, trying to understand what she¡¯s thinking as she looks at me the same. Would she want to see the world as the dark place that I see it to be?


    Would she want to doubt every intention? To see the shadows that trail after people and the burdens that they cling to? Would she want to know of the lonely desert sands?


    Her expression is determined as she grips her cup, while I don¡¯t know what she¡¯s thinking, I know that I want to see the world through her delusions. I want to see that world that she¡¯s trying so hard to save.


    Locking eyes, we lift our drinks and take the first sip.


    It¡¯s not as sweet as I was expecting, but the thick drink does tingle pleasantly as it goes down and tempts me for another. Instead, I let the feelings linger, trying to find what¡¯s different.


    Fate kicks my leg under the table, her eyes meeting mine as she makes a silly face, poking out her tongue at me. She seems a little more relaxed now that we¡¯ve started, and it¡¯s difficult not to smile back.


    The people around us seem a little less tense, a little less like threats. It¡¯s natural that they should be here. What¡¯s a city without people? A festival without a crowd?


    Faint laughter rings in my ears, but I can¡¯t locate the source. Fate and I lift our drinks for the next round, and I find myself drifting out of reality, slipping somewhere new.


    ~~Fate


    One moment we¡¯re sitting at the table, and the next I¡¯m somewhere else. The warm city streets of Dust have been replaced with the cold of a frigid castle.


    Painted plaster covers every wall, and thick luxurious rugs ensure that no footstep will ever stray to stone. Yet, it¡¯s outside, in the lighter snow of autumn that I tread a new path, the fine white powder crunching under boot.


    I¡¯m Fate, but today I¡¯m not. I¡¯m shorter, smaller, and just not myself at all.


    ¡°There you are,¡± an older girl reaches out to me at the edges of the yard, where the trees cover a small stream. Sunlight shines down to illuminate her.


    She¡¯s taller than me, but still just a kid, her long blonde hair and shining green eyes are stunning, but it¡¯s her refined manner that takes me by surprise. Her posture, and how she carries herself, sets her apart from everyone I¡¯ve ever met.


    ¡°Uh, hi,¡± I say, but it¡¯s not my voice talking.


    She smiles kindly, her eyes seeming to peer through me. If this is a dream then it¡¯s like no dream I¡¯ve ever had before.


    ¡°What am I doing here?¡± I ask her.


    ¡°You ask me?¡± she giggles, covering her mouth as she does, ¡°You¡¯re the one who came here.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ I wanted to get to know someone important to me,¡± I say, and she smiles warmly, reaching down and taking my hand before pulling me away into the forest.


    ¡°Well, maybe I can tell you about her,¡± the older girl says.


    ~~Hope


    When the world finally stops spinning, I¡¯m left lying in warm blankets by a burning hearth. I don¡¯t know where I am, I don¡¯t know what¡¯s happened, and I don¡¯t know where Fate has gone.


    There¡¯s still a festival raging outside, thousands of people dedicating themselves to all sorts of pleasures just to forget that the end is coming for us all. Notes cover the floor in front of me, scratchings from an ancient empire, but they make no sense to me.


    ¡°Darling, are you still down here?¡± A woman walks down a set of stairs to find me. Her warm smile is darkened with worry and even a hint of guilt. It¡¯s the same thing I¡¯ve seen before, how a parent looks when they¡¯re thinking that their kid will never live to be as old as themselves.


    ¡°Fate, your friends are here for you.¡± She says, ¡°I know you told them that you weren¡¯t going to the festival, but are you sure? Come on, they¡¯re waiting for you.¡±


    ¡°Fate?¡± I ask.


    ¡°You haven¡¯t forgotten your name, have you?¡± She asks, pulling the blanket from me and lifting me up.


    I hesitate to struggle from her, though I feel uncomfortable being pulled along to the room where ¡®my friends¡¯ are waiting. That drink must have done something to us, this is much more than I was expecting, but if it can show me the world that she sees.


    If I can see the delusions as real if I can accept the same lies¡­


    ¡°Fate, so you aren¡¯t sick,¡± a young boy says, running up to me with a group of other young boys and girls behind him. They¡¯re strangers, and there are too many of them.


    I take a step back without meaning to.


    ¡°Come on, the festival is just starting,¡± he says, grabbing my hand and pulling me out. This time, I try to fight, but it doesn¡¯t make a difference. His grip is like iron as he relentlessly drags me from the house.


    The busy streets outside are flooded with all sorts of strange people, dressed up in dizzying colours. The kids pull me through the mess, and I can¡¯t do anything to resist.


    So far, I¡¯m just amazed that Fate isn¡¯t nursing some deep hatred of children.

 Chapter 27 ~ Delusions

    ~~Fate


    Soft snow paints the landscape in a thin dusting of white, from the branches overhead to the grass underfoot. Even the cool waters that still dribble through the creek, are slowly accumulating frost.


    ¡°What did you want to know?¡± The girl asks, walking by the side of the stream without looking back at me. ¡°To come here in this weather, she must be special to you.¡±


    ¡°Is this a dream?¡± I ask, trying to understand this place. I¡¯m in a child¡¯s body walking through a snow-dusted forest at the back of a grand castle.


    ¡°What is a dream?¡± she asks. ¡°How can you tell dreams apart from reality?¡±


    ¡°Reality stays with you even if you want to forget, where dreams are ephemeral, they slip away even when you try to keep hold of them,¡± I say, paraphrasing an author that I can¡¯t quite remember.


    ¡°Perhaps, you haven¡¯t yet awoken from the dream that you call reality,¡± she says, her voice a clear whisper that echoes through the icy cold of the forest. ¡°And if you do wake from that dream, would you think it without meaning? Even if this is but a dream, an ordinary dream, isn¡¯t there still meaning to it?¡±


    ¡°Not if I forget it before tomorrow comes,¡± I answer, each word inspiring cold white puffs in the cold air.


    The water here is so congested with ice that it¡¯s nearly come to a halt entirely, and the further upstream we travel the more obstructed the stream becomes.


    ¡°Is yesterday meaningless if you¡¯ve forgotten the details of it?¡± She asks. ¡°Even if you forget, you still smiled for a day, you still fell in love for a day, that isn¡¯t lost just because you can¡¯t remember it.¡±


    She talks so strangely, too refined for the youthful image that she wears as a fa?ade. The way she talks circles around these ideas¡­


    ¡°Are you a goddess?¡± I ask. This was a trial of the two moons, so¡­ ¡°Sanguine?¡±


    The girl titters a refined laugh, or I think it¡¯s a laugh, nobody makes a sound like that in real life. But the strangely high-pitched and refined tittering is still filled with a deep humour that proves that she¡¯s being genuine.


    ¡°You can call me that if you wish,¡± she says. ¡°You came here to ask me about a girl?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ I did,¡± I say. ¡°I want to know more about her. I was keeping my distance and waiting for her to be ready to talk about herself¡­ but¡­¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s not enough time?¡± Sanguine asks, smiling warmly. ¡°Or perhaps you¡¯re simply impatient?¡±


    ¡°I just¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t want to be alone,¡± her smile turns cold as she stares into the distance. ¡°I can sympathise.¡±


    ¡°So, what should I do?¡± I ask. ¡°Lucette said something that makes some sense to me. Real couples fight, they push each other sometimes and get upset.


    ¡°Am I keeping too much distance from her, because I¡¯m afraid of what will happen if I scare her away?¡± I ask.


    ¡°It sounds to me that you¡¯re not here for advice, but to have your own thoughts mirrored.¡± She says, leading me up through a thickly forested area.


    There¡¯s a lake here, locked in place by ice and snow, frozen solid. There¡¯s a natural beauty here, but it¡¯s cold and frightening.


    ¡°I want to know Hope better,¡± I say. ¡°She¡¯s told me bits and pieces of her past, and¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s scary, isn¡¯t it?¡± The little goddess says. ¡°It frightens you to think of what horrors made her. Do you still want to know?¡±


    ¡°I want to know.¡±


    ¡°Then, I¡¯ll tell you the story and maybe it will speed things along,¡± she says, staring into the distance. ¡°Do you know where we are?¡±


    ¡°Somewhere cold.¡±


    ¡°A castle, the place where Hope was born and raised; until it wasn¡¯t.¡± Behind us, the forest is warm with red lights I can¡¯t see where it¡¯s all coming from.


    ¡°The Kingdom hated its King, and the King¡¯s family, too. They hated Hope. With torches and fire, they came for her, and it was the cold storms that saved her from the warmth of people.¡±


    A cold wind carries thick snow, hiding the warm lights behind us and covering us in a dark more pure than a moonless night. Distant shouts and cries of anger and rage are quieted by nature¡¯s own roar, a shield through which nothing can be heard or seen.


    ¡°It was in the cold and the night that she was safe,¡± Sanguine says. ¡°She travelled through the quiet forests where the hunters and the wolves parley, finding warmth in villages that have no name, but even there she could find no safety.¡±


    The darkness lightens to warm the day, and I see a small village. The townspeople barely even walk through the town, the snow is too thick for people to leave their homes without good reason.


    Everyone who sees us looks at us with dark suspicion. They close themselves off and walk right past, at least most of them do. Some point fingers and whisper.


    ¡°Do they know?¡± Sanguine asks. ¡°Do they know who we really are? Or are they just pointing us out as strangers? Do we need to run again? Will they burn us?¡±


    The girl whispers worried thoughts and I can feel them seeping into my mind. A dark paranoia; but is it?


    ¡°Sometimes people would help, knowing what our violet eyes mean,¡± she says. ¡°Never for long. The town would always offer us the warmth of the fire.¡±


    Flickering flames crawl up the body of a woman, screaming in pain while spitting curses at the townspeople who stand around to watch. She looks over at Sanguine and I, her eyes imploring us to run for our lives while she suffers terrible pains. A foul smell spreads through the town, and the screaming echoes through the night.


    ¡°Every kindness that was offered to her, came with the promise that it would only end in more fire.


    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°So, she left. The few faithful servants that still cared helped her to cross the desert.¡± Sanguine says. ¡°An impossible journey, but she made it.


    ¡°She made it,¡± Sanguine wears a bittersweet smile on her lips as she stares down at the white sands that have appeared at our feet, as if in mourning.


    The silence hangs between us for a few moments as we stare into the endless rolling white dunes.


    ¡°There¡¯s something I don¡¯t get,¡± I say. ¡°She had a sister with her, didn¡¯t she?¡±


    ¡°She did,¡± the girl says, smiling warmly but not turning away from the desert sand. ¡°Don¡¯t be afraid to confront her.¡±


    ¡°Who are you?¡±


    ¡°Hope is a stubborn sort, but she deserves to have her own life. What little of it is left.¡±


    ~~Hope


    The streets are chaos, true and complete chaos fuelled by drugs and alcohol and the depths of human despair. The kids dragging me through the rancid thoroughfare don¡¯t see it, but the atmosphere still weighs on them, there¡¯s no way that it can¡¯t.


    ¡°Where should we go?¡± One of the kids, a young boy with buckteeth, asks the rest. Bucky leads us through the mess but seems clueless in his own direction. ¡°Everywhere is so busy.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s always busy,¡± the girl says, I¡¯ll call her ¡®Locks¡¯ for her hairstyle. ¡°It¡¯s the end of the world.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± I ask, ¡°Where are you taking me?¡±


    This is what Fate saw and lived through, or that¡¯s what I¡¯m guessing. How come it doesn¡¯t feel so happy and cheerful? How am I meant to learn anything about her from this memory, if it¡¯s just an anxious day avoiding people at a festival?


    ¡°We¡¯re having fun,¡± the boy says. ¡°Don¡¯t you know what fun is?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I squeak out as they pull me out and into a small broken-down building. Age has taken it over many years, and it¡¯s barely been patched back together again with each drip that makes it through the ceiling.


    What¡¯s left can barely provide shelter from the rain, and I wouldn¡¯t dare call it a home.


    Still, there are others here seeking a distance from the crowd. A pair of paramours are taking their affections a little too far, and others are here drinking and smoking away from the jostling melee outside.


    ¡°So, do we hit up the games?¡± Bucky says. ¡°Jimmy said that they set up a big stand on the fifth walk.¡±


    ¡°Jimmy¡¯s a kid, you want to play games with a bunch of kids, then go ahead, but I ain¡¯t going,¡± Locks says, pouting at the boy.


    ¡°What else do you do at a festival?¡± Bucky asks.


    ¡°Eat things,¡± Another boy, ¡®Shifty¡¯ says.


    ¡°Ah, we can walk around and stuff. Maybe there¡¯s dancing?¡± Locks is hesitant in giving her answer, looking around the place and glancing a little too frequently at the promiscuous couple.


    I don¡¯t feel comfortable here, and I don¡¯t know where they¡¯re going to take me, but I know that I¡¯m not going to like it.


    What would Fate do in this situation?


    She enjoys things like this; she dances, and drinks, and recklessly dives into conversation with complete strangers. She¡¯d probably lead these kids out towards the safer parts of the city where they can dance and enjoy sweets and things like that.


    ¡°Maybe¡­¡± I try to speak up, but Shifty speaks over me.


    ¡°We should go dancing, I heard Pansy talking about going to the big stage. There¡¯s music and stuff there.¡±


    ¡°Pansy? You want to go dancing with a girl?¡± Bucky asks.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with that?¡± Locks hisses, stepping up at him.


    ¡°It¡¯s yuck, I mean what, would you want to dance with me or something? That¡¯s gross.¡±


    ¡°No, because you stink!¡± She shouts, her face blushing red. ¡°Who would dance with you?¡±


    Why am I here?


    Why are any of us here?


    Are kids actually like this, or is this some corruption of Fate¡¯s memories?


    I wish she were here with me, I¡¯m sure she¡¯d deal with all this stupid, childish nonsense so that I don¡¯t have to. I was hoping to see the world from her perspective, instead, I have to watch kids argue.


    ¡°Well, your mom sleeps with half the town,¡± the girl points at Bucky, still blushing but more in anger this time.


    I think I missed some of their argument, it¡¯s escalated some¡­


    ¡°Yeah, she does,¡± he shrugs. ¡°So what? It doesn¡¯t mean anything.¡±


    ¡°What? But like¡­ it¡¯s love and stuff.¡±


    ¡°Nuh-uh,¡± Bucky shakes his head. ¡°I don¡¯t really get what¡¯s fun about it, but it¡¯s like a game. She doesn¡¯t love ¡®em or nothin¡¯, not like she loves me.¡±


    ¡°But¡­¡± The girl looks lost as she tries to unravel what the boy said.


    ¡°Yeah, my dad goes to the big house with the pretty girls and red lanterns, all the time. It¡¯s just like when he goes out drinking,¡± Shifty says. ¡°It doesn¡¯t really mean nothing, and my mom doesn¡¯t really care about it either.¡±


    ¡°Then, what about falling in love and stuff?¡± The girl asks.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s real,¡± Shifty says. ¡°I mean our parents love us, I mean sometimes they don¡¯t, but like loving someone else is just a thing people made up for some reason.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re only meant to sleep with people that you really love.¡± Locks says.


    ¡°That¡¯s just something the adults say,¡± Bucky says. ¡°They don¡¯t mean it. Like how they say we shouldn¡¯t drink or smoke.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s like the rules of a game,¡± Shifty says. ¡°You¡¯re only meant to have sex with someone you marry, but when no one cares about the rules anymore, the rules don¡¯t really exist, do they?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s so stupid,¡± the girl spits, but now there¡¯s a hesitation to her words.


    ¡°Who cares?¡± Shifty asks. ¡°I don¡¯t care about love and stuff. Let¡¯s go out, I want to try dancing with Pansy. She¡¯s pretty.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s stupid,¡± Bucky says.


    ¡°You¡¯re stupid.¡±


    I let them drift off into the crowd, forgetting that I even exist. Is this what kids are like, or are these brats just really weird?


    This is the sort of place that Fate grew up?


    Why would she want to save this place? I honestly don¡¯t see a reason why this place should exist for another day let alone for a year.


    Everywhere I look I can see the shadows. Everyone is greedily taking for themselves, except a few people who are giving themselves away but even they¡¯re just doing it to distract from the coming end.


    When I look past the louder people, I can see the quiet ones. The people crying on the side of the road, the people putting a drink to their lips to hide their frowns, and the people singing at the top of their lungs just to keep from screaming.


    The crowd is so thick that I can¡¯t take a step without taking an elbow to the side, but they are all so alone.


    I hate to peer at such things, but when I do glance their way, even the couples who are peeling off seem only interested in the distraction. There¡¯s no affection, no exchange of passions. They¡¯re just going through the motions to keep from feeling anything.


    ¡°What do you think?¡± A masked boy asks me, appearing from nowhere and blocking my path. He¡¯s not like the others here. Almost like he¡¯s from a different world from them.


    He¡¯s a bit taller than me and wears trousers and a strange white mask. His voice seems much too deep like he¡¯s trying to make himself seem older than he is. Apparently, some boys do that, or that¡¯s what Fate told me once. It was in one of the stories she told me while we were on the road.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Would you believe me if I told you that I¡¯m the god, Cerulean?¡± He asks, putting his hands on his hips and lifting his head high. There¡¯s something familiar about him but I can¡¯t quite place it.


    ¡°Sure, why not,¡± I say. ¡°I don¡¯t see how it¡¯s any stranger than everything else that¡¯s happened.¡±


    ¡°Huh,¡± the boy deflates at my lax reply. ¡°You have come here to have a wish granted, have you not?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I admit. ¡°I want to know what it is that makes Fate smile. I wanted to see the world she sees, but I don¡¯t think I can.¡±


    ¡°Why is that?¡±


    I keep silent, and the sounds of the crowd wash through between us. It¡¯s loud and uncomfortable, and I hate it here.


    ¡°You wanted to get to know her?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I say. ¡°I have less than a year left before the world is over. I guess I just wanted to see what it¡¯s like for someone who wants to fight that end.


    ¡°I wanted to know why she¡¯s trying so hard to keep on living,¡± I say. ¡°Instead, I get to see what we must look like from the outside.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± the boy seems genuinely confused.


    ¡°Look at it,¡± I say, pointing out a couple who are getting handsy at the side of the road. ¡°Do you think they care about each other? Do you think that¡¯s love? They¡¯re just messing around until the world ends, there¡¯s no affection here, no love.


    ¡°It¡¯s all just pointless.¡±


    ¡°Wait, wait, wait, that¡¯s not what you¡¯re supposed to take away from this!¡± The boy rushes to me, waving his hands around. ¡°You¡¯re supposed to see that your relationship is different and-¡±


    ¡°Is it?¡± I ask, standing up to him. ¡°Isn¡¯t that what everyone says? ¡®our love is different, more real than the others¡¯? It¡¯s all pretend. It¡¯s the games we play to keep the loneliness away.


    ¡°It¡¯s a lie.¡±


    The boy doesn¡¯t know what to say, quietly adjusting his mask and shuffling around.


    ¡°If you truly are Cerulean, then I wish you the best with your own divine game of ¡®romance¡¯ with Sanguine,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m done lying.¡±


    I walk out of the illusion, facing Fate who is waking from her own dream.


    It¡¯s time to cast aside the lies and delusions.