ã€ŠThe journeyã€‹


 The question

    The man was wandering through the forest. It was night, but the moon was full and the skies were clear, so he could see what was ahead and feel that he was not alone. He drew out his sword and shouted:

    "Show yourself. I can feel your presence. I''ve felt it for a while now. The sadness. The void inside my soul. Come out into the light!"

    There was no answer. But there was a lake, and at its beach, there was a creature. Black as if a shadow had come to life. It was facing the lake.

    The man held out his sword:

    "I know what you are. I''ve heard the stories about you. You hunt for people like me, who are on a journey to find the treasure, taking from them joy and filling them with doubt, sadness, and uneasiness in return. They call you emptiness, void. You arethe Hollow."

    The creature was silent, staring at the lake.

    "From what I''ve heard, you stick around the unfortunate souls for as long as you are unfulfilled. Until there''s something that fills your darkness," said the man, continuing, "I am tired of the feelings you give me. The self-doubt, the inability to enjoy moments fully because I feel that there should be something more, the anxiety that I may never reach my destination and that I will be stuck with you for the rest of my life."

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    The man stopped for a moment as memories of moments long gone flooded his mind. Then he stepped closer:

    "I''ve felt this way for far too long, and I want to be done with it. So I''m offering you a deal. Tell me what you want, and I''ll give it to you. Tell me what would fulfill you, and I will get it."

    The Hollowremained silent.

    "Is it a partner and the sympathy and love for one another?"

    The creature remained silent.

    "Is it something more simple? Money? To be able to get what you want when you want it?"

    It didn''t speak a word. The man became irritated:

    "Is it experiences? Is there something that you haven''t done yet, perhaps, and you wish to do? Or is it knowledge that you seek? Something you want to know? Or to reunite with friends long gone? To be able to connect with people more?"

    The Hollowstood still.

    The man began to shout with anger and rage:

    "Is it family connections you seek? So you wouldn''t have to be the outsider when you''re with your own blood? Or independence? So you wouldn''t need to rely on anyone but yourself, sparing you the hurt and disappointment?!Is it a part of my own soul that I need to give you?! Answer me!" The last words came out so loudly that the birds in the nearby trees got scared and flew off.

    Finally, the creature turned around to look at the man. It was like looking in a mirror, except the Hollow was crying. It finally spoke, sobbing in a cracking voice.

    "I don''t know."

 Pride

    ''So you''ve finally decided to come back. How nice, but what is that thing doing with you?'' asked Wolf as the man returned to the camp.

    ''It would not leave my side,'' he answered.

    ''So instead of slaying it as you should have, you brought it back with you? Great! Will it have its own tent? Or maybe it should sleep with me? Honestly, what were you thinking?'' asked Wolf. Meanwhile, the creature sat down beside the fire and stared into it.

    ''Don''t be so hard on him, you angry wardog. You know as well as we do that the Hollow cannot be destroyed by the might of the sword,'' another man stepped out of his tent. ''Welcome back, my friend. As I see, it was a successful hunt.''

    ''Not the success that I was hoping for, Scythian. Wolf''s right. I went to deal with my stalker once and for all, but here it is,'' the man took a seat at the trunk of a tree.

    ''That''s right. If you want to live through this journey, you have to learn a thing or two. That''s why we are here. So here''s my lesson: always uphold your pride no matter what. Otherwise, people will walk over you. If you have no means or will to end the creature, at least don''t let it be seen.''

    The man got stuck in the middle of the sentence: "people will walk over you." He had many experiences in that. Too many. Times when he tried to help people, to be kind, only to be backstabbed and used until there was nothing left to take from him. And then, to be thrown away. Maybe if he had stuck by his pride, he would not have so many scars on his skin? Without thinking, the man touched some of them under his clothes.

    ''That''s right. You know that too well,'' said the veteran.

    ''I disagree,'' interrupted Scythian. ''If you stick by your pride, the only thing you get is separated from other people. ''Because who are they to know better?'' You''ll be too caught up in your own mind and so sure that you are right in everything that you will not consider the possibility that you''re wrong. Not to mention the fact that you will be so high on your horse that the mere concept of ''helping'' or ''asking for forgiveness or aid'' will be beneath you. If you''re too prideful, you can never have long-term friendships or advice ever again. You must be humble and open to other people. How many times have you needed help and got it? Or had a much-needed talk or food to sustain you? Would it be possible to live through life all alone?''

    ''Hah. You contradict yourself, old man. Aren''t you the one who always says to be proud of the things you do?'' Wolf asked sarcastically. ''To appreciate the little achievements? How do you do that without pride? And about the getting help part: he should not need help. That''s a liability. He should measure himself enough not to ask or accept it. To forget his pride is to admit that he''s too weak. Too helpless to do things on his own. It is always a bigger success to achieve things alone. Besides, people are not saints. Not by a long shot. What do you think they will do when they see the creature with us?'' Wolf turned to the man.

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    ''That will not be a problem. The only reason you see it is that you travel with me. It has been following me for a long while now, but only when I called it out did it show up physically. I don''t think that it wants to be seen,'' said the wanderer while looking at the creature. In his head, he was¡ªlike so many times before¡ªmeasuring both arguments. Is it true that needing help is a sin against pride? He knows that sometimes he needed it in the past. To get through an obstacle, or advice on what path to follow, or to just make sure he was in the right in some cases. He needed an outside look. And how many good people had he lost from his life because of his stubbornness and pride?

    While he was thinking, Scythian started to speak.

    ''Yes, I say that you need to be proud of what you''re doing, that''s true. Take pride in your work and in your achievements. But don''t become so cocky that you think you are the only one who can do it right. And sometimes, yes, you need to ask for help. That does not mean you are weak, quite the opposite actually. You have to be strong and humble to do that. And for that, your pride has to die.''

    ''Your pride is the one thing that can give you confidence!'' said Wolf growlingly. ''If you don''t think that you deserve the best, no one will! And then we are back at the fact that people will step on you like a carpet!''

    The man was just listening.

    ''Ah, but you forget: pride is a liability. What if people step on your pride? It can break like glass, and you become controlled by it. You will want to prove that you''re rightful to be proud. It is not a strong alloy, and those who want to will use it against you.''

    ''Only if your will is weak, will your pride be broken. If it''s strong, it can withstand anything! And only a fool like you would fall for manipulation like that. Those who are consistent with their pride shall not fall to attempts like that.''

    ''What about self-respect?'' asked the man. The two arguing guides fell silent and looked at him. ''What if I am not trying to be prideful? To not to be full of myself, but have a healthy self-image. If I respect myself enough to know what I am worth and deserve, people can''t use me as a means to an end. All the while that I stay humble enough to help others, but set limits to the bulk of it. And at the same time, take pride in my achievements and appreciate them.'' The guides stood silent for a minute.

    ''There is a fine line there, lad. How can you be sure that you can keep it?'' asked Scythian.

    ''If you''re always wondering if you''re on the right path, you''re not going to move at all. Besides, I never really liked the extremes.''

    ''Hah. Always with the compromises,'' laughed Wolf. ''And tell me, oh wise one. What will you do if someone tries to use you again? To take what you have for themselves?''

    The man answered, while touching the handle of his blade:

    ''I''m gonna use this.''

    Wolf smiled.

    ''Do what you feel is right.''

    ''I think it''s a fine idea, but keep in mind: self-respect like that is hard to build. And even harder to balance it out, or you will soon be back at square one.'' said Scythian. ''I think it''s time for us to get some sleep. There''s still a long journey ahead of us.''

    ''For once we agree, Scythian.'' Wolf looked at the creature. It was watching the dancing flames, almost as if it was fascinated by them. ''So how long will this creature be with us?'' he asked the man.

    The wanderer had only one answer.

    ''I don''t know.''

 The sword

    The man was fighting.

    When they left the forest, they saw three orcs¡ªnasty monsters clad in crude armor. They were standing over their latest prey. At first, the man and his company wanted to avoid them. And then he saw it. It was a carriage of a poor family. A little girl lay there, lifeless. Her doll was still in her hand. She didn''t seem more than ten. The man became overwhelmed with rage. He drew his sword, from which black vines began to spread across his body.

    ''You''re going to pay!'' he shouted as he charged the enemy. Scythian and Wolf were surprised but quickly followed with weapons in hand. Each of them chose an opponent.

    The man chose the biggest of the orcs, the leader he presumed. He struck down at him with all his strength and fury, forcing the creature to take a step back.

    Scythian wielded a spear. He fought with great precision, elegance, and speed. His opponent could barely keep up, having the most armor on its hide. It kept its shield as close to itself as it could.

    Wolf''s two-handed mace could break just about anything anyone could think of. The orc tried to defend itself with its axe valiantly, but ultimately futilely. It was the first to fall when its head was cracked open.

    But the man did not see any of that. He could not think. The only thing he had in his mind was the picture of the carriage, covered in red.

    ''How dare you do this?!'' he asked, not waiting for an answer. ''You are going to die right here, right now!'' The wanderer did not even hear himself anymore. The vines reached his neck. KILL, KILL, KILL¡ªthat was the only thing in his mind. He started a cut from the left, which the orc barely parried. There was no time for it to counterattack, as the next blow, in the form of an overhead strike, came down upon it. The monster had to go backward, parrying the sheer fury of the attacks. The man wouldn''t let up. Carelessly, he dealt one strike after another. Even though his opponent''s armor deflected the blows it could not parry, they locked swords while looking into each other''s eyes. The man took the strong side; with a push, he managed to get his opponent''s sword out of his way and dealt a blow. The stab to the chest found its way between the plates of the armor. The orc screamed and finally made a counter blow diagonally to the right. The warrior stepped to the left, dodging the blow and using the opening for an upward strike. The monster''s armor deflected most of it, but it had no helmet. The strike almost severed its jaw from its mouth. The creature cried out (or imitated it the best it could). Then came the next blow to its joint at the left knee, cutting off its leg completely. The monster fell over. The man quickly jumped above it and buried his sword in the heart of the monster. The orc died instantly.

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    Then he stabbed again. And again. And again.

    ''Destroy it! Destroy it!'' cried out a voice in his head. The vines covered his face. He stabbed the lifeless husk again and again. Until something reached for his shoulder. The man turned with swiftness unseen and struck at his new opponent.

    ''Argh!'' it cried as it fell back.

    That was the moment someone grabbed him from behind.

    ''Enough!'' said Wolf as he tossed him aside.

    The red in the wanderer''s head started to disappear. So did the vines, as they crawled back to the sword. He saw Scythian on the ground, with a slash wound on his arm. Between them was Wolf, staring at him in anger. The man was confused and exhausted.

    ''Have you forgotten the lessons I taught you? Have you forgotten to control your rage? This is not you! You fell back to the state I found you in! You should remember the purpose of why I travel with you!''*

    The wanderer was shocked. Why did he hurt Scythian? His guide, his friend? And then, he started to remember why he sought out Wolf so long ago.

    *(In case you are wondering, yes this is a reference to the great song from EPIC: the musical, Warrior of the Mind. If you did not hear it yet, you can listen to it on Youtube music, Spotify or any other big music platform.-The editor.)

 The sword-part 2

    The man had finally found it. The tavern was far out of town, in the middle of a forest. Hence the name: Inner Pub. No road technically led there, except the ones naturally created by the guests as they walked there. Most of them were wanted men, hiding from the law. The man entered, his cloak concealing his face. He didn''t want to be seen or bothered. It was not a good place to attract attention. No doubt, that''s why the person he sought had chosen this place. It took a while, but the wanderer found him. He was tall, had long black hair, and a big scar on his face from one corner to another. He sat alone in one of the corners of the settlement. The man knew little about him, only two things. One: he was a veteran of many wars. Two: on the fields of battle, he fought with such ferocity that it was unmatched by any other. Precisely the kind of experience the wanderer needed.

    He took a seat directly in front of him.

    ''Greetings, Wolf,'' the man began. ''You''re a hard man to find.'' Wolf looked at the man. He weighed him and then spoke.

    ''That''s because I don''t want to be found. What do you want?''

    ''I have a... problem. One in which I need your help.'' The man slowly drew out his sword and put it on the table. He quickly looked around, but luckily everybody was busy with their own things. Meanwhile, the veteran looked at the sword and took it in his hand.

    ''This looks like a regular short sword. Or so would say someone who never held one before. Its alloy is...'' the berserker''s eye widened a little. ''Where did you get this?'' he asked.

    ''I got it from my father.'' replied the traveler.

    ''A gift?'' Wolf handed the sword back to its owner.

    ''More like a curse.'' answered the man, as he put it away. ''It''s called Anger. The problem is that every time I wield it, I lose my mind. I become a monster. Just like those who terrorize the towns. I can''t think straight; the only thing I can think of is-"

    ''Destruction and to kill the thing that pissed you off?'' Wolf interrupted.

    ''Yes.'' said the man.

    ''Hm. And what do you want me to do about it?'' wondered the veteran.

    ''I want you to help me destroy it. Or take it from me. I will even pay you, just... help me get rid of it. Anytime I tried to leave it behind or throw it away, it simply came back.'' said the man with despair in his voice.

    Wolf thought for a second. He looked at the man and simply said:

    ''No.''

    ''What?!'' snapped the man at Wolf.

    The master of battle noticed what the man did not: the wanderer''s hand was already on the hilt. Some sort of black vine started to crawl up his skin. Wolf got ready but continued:

    ''I will not help you. If you can''t control your blade, that''s your problem. The only shame is that such a fine weapon found such a pathetic user.'' The veteran was watching closely for the man''s reaction.

    It followed as predicted. The traveler drew his sword and attacked his talking partner with it. But Wolf was quick; he parried the attack with his mace. The table turned over, and everyone was watching them (though in places like this, a fight wasn''t all that rare).

    ''How dare you call me pathetic?!'' the man shouted.

    The vines crawled through the man''s entire body, covering his face. He struck again, this time with an overhead slash. Wolf easily blocked it and, with a quick kick to the ribs, sent the traveler flying. The man landed on his back about two meters away. His anger grew. ''Don''t let him win!'' said a voice in his head. A voice outside, Wolf''s, asked a question.

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    ''Do you know how the orcs were created according to the legend?''

    The man got up from the floor, getting ready to strike again, while the veteran continued. ''According to the tales, they were once normal people. No different than you or me.'' The wanderer ran towards his foe, using the momentum he struck from the side, but the soldier was quicker. He parried the blow with his mace, grabbed the man, and threw him into the wall.

    ''Until they fell to their rage. They did not control it. It consumed them. Now, most of them are nothing more than a savage tribe of monsters, only doing things so they can destroy better.''

    The man was trying to catch his breath, but he could only see red. With his sword, he charged his foe once again, but Wolf just dodged the blow with ease and, with an annoyed punch, sent the man to the floor. The man gasped for air; he used his sword as a means to support himself on his knees. But in his mind, the voice wouldn''t let up. ''Destroy him already, you useless trash! Are you this weak?! You''re gonna let him get away with it???''

    Then, Wolf asked a new question:

    ''Are you an orc, boy? Tell me: are you the wielder or the wielded of that blade?''

    The traveler... stopped, he was looking at his enemy. Wolf smirked a little.

    ''Finally, you are hearing me. Do you know why you are losing against me? It''s because I control my anger; I don''t let it consume me, but I am using it. Aiming it. You can be the best swordsman in the world in theory, but without controlling your emotions, your rage, you will just flail around like a paper in the wind. So answer me: are you the wielder of Anger or the wielded of Anger?''

    The man was shocked for a moment. He stared at his blade, while the voice in his head was still shouting at him to kill, to destroy everything.

    He gripped his blade hard and said:

    ''I... am... the wielder!'' He struggled, trying to put the blade away in its sheath as it resisted.

    The voice shouted at him, ''NOOO. HE''S STILL ALIVE. FINISH HIM!!!'' The vines burned on his skin. It took every bit of his will to not give in. Finally, the blade was back in its sheath. The man fell on all fours and noticed that the voice was finally gone. Meanwhile, Wolf set the table back on its feet and ordered two jugs of beer. Everyone got back to their business. The wanderer got on his feet as well and took the seat in front of Wolf.

    ''Thank you. I''m sorry for what I did.'' said the man, with shame in his voice.

    ''Listen, kid, this blade you carry will not go away. It may have been your father''s, but it''s yours now. You''re bonded to it.'' The beers had arrived in the meantime. The traveler gave two coins to the bartender while Wolf continued. ''It is a powerful weapon, I have seen it firsthand. But it means nothing if you can''t control it properly. This was only the beginning. It will be a lot of work to learn to wield it properly. Lucky for you, that''s the thing I can help you with.'' The veteran drank his beverage in one sip.

    ''Lucky indeed. What will it cost?'' asked the man, taking a sip himself.

    ''Well first, you gotta buy me another drink. Second, you look like someone who''s on a big journey. You are looking for the treasure, right? The treasure everyone wants to find." The man nodded hesitantly. ''I''d like to see it. I never heard anyone who could describe it. No painting, no descriptions in the ancient texts. I need to see it. Plus, I''m sure there''s plenty of glory and battle on the way there. So I will travel with you and teach you a thing or two about your blade.'' The veteran looked determined.

    ''That makes two of you.'' said the man, more to himself than to his new guide.

    ''What?'' Wolf looked at him, confused.

    "Nothing. I accept your terms. Let us travel together, fight together, and learn together. Cheers!'' the man raised his jug.

    ''Cheers!''

    The man found himself back in the present. The battlefield was long behind them. Scythian''s arm was in a bandage. Luckily, the wound wasn''t deep. All four of them walked silently, speaking no words since the battle. Finally, he approached his wounded guide.

    ''Scythian, I''m so sorry about what happened. I lost control, that girl, those monsters. I should have held back.''

    The old guide looked at him, with joy on his face.

    ''Ah, don''t worry about it, lad. Nothing happened that could not be fixed. The important thing is that you learn from it.''

    The man smirked a little, then turned to Wolf.

    ''I apologize to you too, Wolf. I forgot your teachings. Anger is a weapon I need to wield. Otherwise, it will wield me, destroying everything I have and care about.''

    The master of war did not bother to look at the man; he just spoke.

    ''I still intend to make sure that teaching is well within your mind. Don''t forget that blade of yours is a very special kind. Next time, don''t disappoint me.''*

    The company continued their journey until their next stop.

    *(Seriously, what are you doing? Warrior of the Mind. Listen to it.-Editor)

 This moment

    The company made a detour on their way to a little town, where they needed to restock their supplies. When they got close, Scythian got excited.

    ''Look, my friends,'' he said, pointing at a big sign hung up between two buildings. ''There''s a festival in town! What a joy. We could certainly use some fun and relaxation.'' One could already tell from his face that he was planning the whole night right  there.

    ''There is no time for that,'' said the wanderer. ''I''m sorry, Scythian, but too many things need to be done. We are here to get supplies and then move on. It will still take too much time as it is to get ready. We can''t afford another detour.'' In his head, he was already going over the places they needed to visit and what they needed to get from them.

    ''Oh come now, lad, one night is not the end of the world. You need to refill your soul as well as the supplies. Look, even Wolf does not argue with me!'' He made a pointing gesture toward the veteran.

    ''It is true that we need to focus on the journey and cover as much distance as we can. But this time, the old man might be onto something. We''ve had eventful days. And I could use a beer,'' said Wolf, a little pained that he had to agree with Scythian on something.

    ''See?'' Scythian turned to the man. The ranger sighed and answered his old mentor.

    ''No. We do not have time for it. If I want to find the treasure, I need to do it as soon as I can.'' He went into the town at double speed, cutting a path for himself through the crowd. His companions followed, but Scythian caught his attention with a sentence before one of the shops.

    ''Honestly, if you were my age, I would start to think that your memory is in decline. First, you forget the lessons of Wolf, and now, you forget mine. Remember how we met, my friend? It was a similar situation then.''

    The traveler, while not stopping, started to remember. He thought back to his to-do list back then, which he made in a little town not unlike this one, and his way out.

    The man was in a hurry on this sunny day. He stumbled into this town by accident. He was happy and sad at the same time. On one hand, he managed to get some food and water for a low price, even making some extra money for monster trophies slain on the way. On the other, getting all this done slowed him down. Now he needed to run to make up for the lost time. He could not afford to slow down. ''I should be there by now,'' he thought. ''I''m already behind everyone else; I have to hurry!'' He did not want to stop for anything. That''s why he bumped into an old man at the edge of the town. In his hurry, he said something resembling an apology, but it was no more than an automatic response of a golem.

    It only came to mind because the man was somehow in front of him on the road.

    ''Ahoy, my young friend,'' greeted the old warrior, while simultaneously blocking his way. The man had to stop, which irritated him.

    ''Hey. Could you move a bit? I''m kinda in a hurry.''

    ''Oh yeah, I felt that just now,'' said the old fighter. The man just wanted to be on his way.

    Still, he took a moment to analyze him. He wore dark blue battle armor over his whole body (with no helmet attached). From his face, anyone could tell that he was not young, but for his age, he was clean. Clearly, he liked to be presentable at all times. His beard was nicely shaved, his hair was brushed, both were grey. Something the man noticed though was his stance. It was elegant, and he looked like someone who could fight at a moment''s notice. His spear on his back reassured that also. The man responded.

    ''Ah, so it was you. Look, I''m sorry that I bumped into you here.'' He took out two gold pieces. ''Take this as an apology. Then I shall be on my way. Deal?'' He wanted to avoid a fight. Avoid using the sword.

    ''Oh, I''m not here because of that, lad. It happens, no worries.'' waved the old hero. ''Where are my manners? My name is Scythian. Pleasure to meet you.'' He reached for a handshake. The traveler shook it but then asked again.

    ''Nice to meet you, but now I really need to go.''

    He tried to move out of the way, but Scythian moved with him. Then he moved the other way, but again, with the elegance of a dancer, the old man blocked his way. Then the man took a feint move and did a spin around the fighter, getting behind him. Only to find that at the end of the maneuver, the old warrior was still before him.

    ''Haha. Nice moves. No doubt, you are a fearsome swordsman,'' laughed the spearman. The man was confused and angry. He touched the hilt of his sword, instantly getting scared and pulling away from it. ''Do not pull it out!'' he said to himself. Still, he was annoyed but finally asked.

    ''Alright, what do you want?'' He looked at Scythian.

    ''Me? I''m just curious. Why are you in such a hurry? You''re running about as if the world would come asunder if you stopped,'' the elderly fighter asked the man jokingly.

    ''If you must know, I''m on a journey to find something. And I can''t spare any minute until I find it.'' The traveler still tried to find a way out of this conversation.

    ''You''re after the treasure, aren''t you?'' asked the elegant fighter. ''Don''t worry, I''m not one of the competitors. It''s just the most logical reason. Still, I fail to understand why you can''t stop for a little on a beautiful day like this. No offense, but the bags should be on your back, not under your eyes. When was the last time you slept?'' Scythian looked a little concerned.

    ''I slept enough! I slept on...'' the man wondered. When was the last time he slept or rested? He quickly pushed away those thoughts and said, ''What does it even matter to you?'' The ranger raised his voice a little.

    Scythian thought for a little and asked:

    ''Have you ever heard of the creatures known as the living corpses?''

    ''Yes, I have,'' said the man. ''But they are just rumors. According to the myths, they are like a plague. One appears and starts infecting people until the town is nothing more than a husk, a place where there is nothing else but them. Why?'' The wanderer noticed something on the duelist''s face. His face saddened.

    ''They are not just rumors. They are real,'' said the old fighter with a face that the man knew too well. There was a little pause in the conversation as the old man''s motivation became clearer.

    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.''I''m sorry,'' said the wanderer finally.

    ''The myth is wrong on one part though.'' he continued, ''The infestation begins while they are still alive. They are created by people being impatient. By wanting to jump to the goal, by wanting to have everything and feeling left behind by not achieving it already, not even noticing that the most important part of their goals are the changes and experiences on their way there. They become a mere imitation of a human being. They become completely hollow.''

    The man was struck by that word. Hollow. He started to feel his heart being strangled by something for a moment. Scythian noticed it but did not say anything.

    ''Thank you for the concern. I promise I will think about it, but now I have to go.'' The man still wanted to get out of there, even if he could feel his eyes wanting to shut and his legs wanting to rest. ''I will rest when I''m there.'' he thought. The elderly fighter thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers.

    ''Alright, let''s try something different then.'' He proceeded to pull out a little bag of gold coins from his pocket. ''I have a little game for you. See that tree over there?'' He pointed at a tree not far from them, in the middle of a field. It looked serene. It cast a shadow on the grass, ever so comfortably.

    ''Yeah, what about it?'' The man turned to his conversation partner.

    ''I have this bag of gold if you''re willing to lie down there for an hour and rest. And if you don''t feel better after that, I will give you the gold and we part ways. But if you do feel better, you will help me spend this money on tonight''s revelry in the town. We will drink, laugh, who knows, you may find yourself a lady friend!'' Scythian winked at the man (who in response rolled his eyes), but nevertheless, he seemed confident. The man couldn''t help but laugh a little.

    ''Oh yeah. Rest and sleep in the presence of a complete stranger. Tale as old as time,'' said the traveler. There was no way he would not be robbed.

    ''My boy, we have been talking for a while now. Don''t you think that if I had ill will against you, I would have attacked you by now?'' asked the old spearman.

    The traveler thought. On one hand, it would not be wise and would delay him from his quest. On the other, he could use the money and it''s the easiest way to get it. Plus, the old man had a point, he did not threaten him so far. Of course, it could be part of his plan. ''No matter. I will pretend that I am asleep for an hour. If he tries something, I will get rid of him and keep the gold.'' he thought.

    ''Fine,'' said the warrior finally. ''One hour. No more. After it, you will pay me and I will move on. Deal?'' He reached for a handshake.

    ''Deal!'' said Scythian, shaking the younger one''s hand.

    They made their way to the tree. The man lay down beneath it, in the shadow. Scythian took his place at the base of the tree. The restless young one closed his eyes. His mind was still racing.

    On plans, on what to do. On places he needed to pass. On setbacks. On obstacles and people he met. On situations, both in the past and possible ones in the future.

    On... how good the sun felt on his skin. On how calm everything around him was. On how meditative the sound of the wind and the songs of the birds were. On how many places like this he had passed so far, never stopping, always hurrying. Never taking time to get to know people, thinking about what exactly he was looking for. Appreciating the things he had done and the things he had been through. Evaluating their effect on himself.

    ''How long has it been? How long has it been since the last time I stopped a little?'' He dropped his guard, he started to feel himself drifting asleep. Little by little.

    But... there was this feeling still. That he was lazy. That he should not stop. That he was worthless now, that he wasn''t working on his goal. He started to drift away to the land of dreams. He barely managed to open his eyes, just for a little. But on the other side of the road, he saw something. Just before he fell asleep, he saw it. As if a shadow came to life.

    He woke up, looking at the sky. It was twilight, the sun had almost set. He felt full of energy, his eyes did not want to close anymore, his soul refreshed. He sat up and looked to the other side of the road. He did not see the creature. ''Maybe it was a dream.'' he thought. But the feeling was there. He checked his things, everything was in order. He smiled a little. The old man had won. He turned to him.

    ''Good morning, lad. Did you sleep well?'' smiled Scythian.

    ''As a matter of fact, I did. I feel much better. You were right. I needed the rest. Thank you for insisting,'' the man smiled back.

    ''My friend, you and many young folks your age are on a journey. But many of you forget that the journey itself is just as important as the thing you''re looking for. Be patient with yourself. Take some time off to rest. Changes and lessons are something you should not hurry with. You look like a fine lad, you will get there with time. You can''t properly train a muscle if you stretch it too hard!'' He said it with such passion, which completely overwhelmed the man. ''I just wish someone would listen to my experiences. I''m not getting any younger and would like to pass on my knowledge to the new generation.''

    The wanderer smiled and said:

    ''Well, on this road, I will need much advice and will need to learn many lessons. I could use a guide, if you''re up for it.''

    Scythian looked surprised, but he was happy.

    ''Sounds like a fine deal.'' He got to his feet. ''But first, I believe I won our little bet. So how about we start spending the money?''

    ''Sure thing,'' said the guided one, as they headed for the town.

    Back in the present, they finished with all the errands, and now stood in the town square. The man could not help but smile at the fine memory. Wolf got him out of his thoughts.

    ''Are we going or what?'' asked the master of battle.

    ''On second thought, maybe we could stay in this fine town. It''s not every day we find a festival and we have money to spare for it.'' He turned to Wolf.

    Scythian did not say anything. He did not have to. His smile spoke for him.

    ''Are you sure? This will make our trip longer,'' asked the veteran.

    ''You can''t train a muscle properly by stretching it too hard. Come on. I already picked the tavern.''

    That night, the company had the time of their lives. They talked with each other, telling stories of their travels, both to each other and to people around them, especially Scythian, who was happy to share with the crowd around him.

    They laughed at the faces of some drunk men who wouldn''t leave the young ladies alone as Wolf scared them off. They danced to the songs of the band, most of all the man, who after the struggles of the past days was happy to ask a girl from the crowd to dance.

    And as he took a break, with his tankard in his hand, he noticed something lurking in the shadows, watching him. He raised his drink toward it. It was still there. But for the moment, the feeling was a tiny bit easier.

 The haunted

    The night in the tavern held little rest for the man. In his sleep, memories came. Nightmares. Of times long gone, but with screams still loud.

    He tossed himself in his sleep, his bed creaking beneath him. He could feel the heat and see the events coming to life once more.

    ''No,'' he said in his sleep. ''Don''t do this. Please. No! NO!'' he shouted as he jumped up, covered in sweat, gasping for air.

    Part of his mind realized what just happened. So he got to the routine. He touched the covers beneath him. It was rough and sturdy. But not the ground. He touched his blanket. It was surprising soft and warm. But not that warm. For a moment, he wondered why he even had it. After all, he remembered that Wolf and Scythian helped him up to his room. He had a little too much beer at the party last night. Yes, he was partying last night. Not fighting. He looked outside the window. If he had to guess, it was around noon. He quickly got out of bed, gathered his belongings (carefully putting the sword on his belt), and headed downstairs. Scythian was already there, fresh as always.

    ''Good morning, my good boy! Did you sleep well?'' he asked with a smile. That question revived the images of his nightmare. He could hear the screams again for a moment; it felt like an eternity. When they passed, the old fighter was looking at him with great concern.

    ''Are you alright, my friend?'' he asked while putting his hand on the man''s shoulder.

    ''Im fine.'' said the traveler. Both of them knew he was lying. Scythian wanted to say something, but Wolf just came down, interrupting the two.

    ''Morning.'' he said. He looked beaten up, like he fought an entire army alone.

    Not surprising; after all, he was the reason the tavern ran out of beer the night before. The wanderer was relieved that he didn''t have to continue the conversation with Scythian.

    ''Alright, if everyone is here, let go. We had our fair share of rest.'' the ranger said.

    ''Are you sure?'' asked the warmaster with a mocking voice. ''That lady from yesterday was asking about you after we put you in your room and-''

    The man interrupted with a temper in his voice.

    ''Let''s just go!'' he said. On his way out, he tossed a bag of coins to the innkeeper and barged out of the settlement. Wolf was surprised and turned to Scythian.

    ''Whats his problem?''

    The old spearman looked out of his head, wandering about that question.

    The company has left the town. By late afternoon, they were on the outskirts, and the road was surrounded by trees. The skies were gray. A storm was almost upon them. The man was six feet ahead of the group ever since they left the inn. He was lost in his own thoughts. To be fair, it wasn''t a surprise to the group, as it happened often. But this time it was different. The only one who got to walk beside him was the Hollow. While the creature did not show itself to anyone outside the three of them, the guides knew what the increase in speed meant for the creature. It was getting stronger as the man got more troubled.

    Looking at the sky, the veteran made the suggestion.

    ''We should make camp here.'' he said. ''It''s as good a place as any. I have no desire to get wet or get lost in the storm. And we can test out the new tent we got,'' he said loudly. Almost shouting to make the man hear him.

    ''Let''s just go for a little more,'' said the wanderer. ''Maybe we can find better shelter.''

    Scythian heard the man''s voice.

    He was patient, but sometimes he had to make a stand. This was one of those times. He quickly jumped forward, becoming a dark blue blur to the rest of the group (even to Wolf), and suddenly stood before the man. The traveler stopped and looked at him.

    ''It''s not just that, my friend,'' said the duelist. ''We need to talk.''

    The man looked at his old guide. He stood firmly on his feet, and this time, his significant smile gave way to a stern look. He thought for a moment. Looking at the sky. Of the place they were, and finally to the hollow. Then he let out a sigh.

    ''You are right. There''s something I want to ask the two of you about.''

    The new tent they bought was huge, compared to the previous ones. It had four separate sections, one for each of them (even though Hollow wouldn''t require one). There was a space in between them where the group sat down, in the company of an oil lamp. Scythian was the one who broke the silence.

    ''My friend, something troubles you. I heard it from my room that last night you were talking to yourself. Did you have a nightmare of some kind?''

    The man thought for a moment and answered.

    ''Not nightmares. Memories. Memories of my failure.'' he said. On his face, it was clear: this incident was dramatic for him.

    ''What happened?'' asked the retired duelist.

    ''I...'' started the man but could not finish. The scenes flashed before his eyes.

    ''That doesn''t matter. You wouldn''t get it.''

    ''Really?'' Wolf joined in. ''You think we had not seen people die before our eyes?''

    The warmaster''s eyes said everything. His words dug deep into the travelers souls. He was not ready to talk about it. Not yet.

    ''Look, that''s not what I wanted to ask,'' he exclaimed. ''You were right; I do need to talk about something. You both are my guides, so guide me: how do you deal with failure? How do you process it? How do you live with the memories of it?''

    The questions surprised the guides. They wanted to know the specifics, as the wanderer never shared nearly anything about his past.

    After a little thinking, it was the aged warrior, once again, who spoke.

    ''Well, first of all, what do you consider a failure? Is it a failure, for example, when you decide to go a certain distance but a storm or an overflowing river blocks your path?''

    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.With a little pause, Wolf answered.

    ''Well, you can overcome those obstacles if you are good enough.''

    ''Yes, you can,'' replied the spearman. ''But still, it remains a question if it''s a failure, since-''

    ''No, no.'' the man quickly interjected. He knew how it would go. The two would argue for hours on a topic completely different from his question.

    ''Let me clarify then. When someone does not go my way, that''s not my fault. I know that much. I can be frustrated about it, but in the end, I have no control over it. What I meant is the events where you give your all, do everything you can, but still fail. Doing your best for the outcome you want but still being defeated.''

    ''Well, I think it''s pretty obvious.'' said the grim berserker. ''If you give your all and do your best for something but still fall none the less, than you are not enough. Weak. You do not possess the dedication or strength to triumph. Also, you need to punish yourself for it. To learn discipline and to remind yourself what not to do. After all, all actions have consequences.''

    Unknowingly, the last sentence cut deep into the man. The sounds of crushing bones came alive to him. But the true meaning of what the veterans thought was no shallow thing either. From a factual point of view, he was right as well. He was weak back then. No more than a child who was trying to be an adult. He tested the limits, and he found that they were closer than he thought. His failure may have been a weakness of his character and knowledge. About the punishing part, he was not so sure. Wasn''t the memory and the feelings painful enough? Or should he have taken a vow of silence, or perhaps a pilgrimage? The older guide must have had the same thoughts.

    ''I don''t agree with that. Failures are a natural part of life. You can''t live your life concentrating on your shortcomings, otherwise, you would be stuck in the past, never moving forward. And punishing yourself for things that are natural is never a good thing. What is the next thing we should punish ourselves for because we take too much air? No, I believe that the healthiest thing is that you forget your failures and move on from them. So you can live a healthier life without the drawbacks of the past and focus on the moment. Be kind to yourself. You are not a golem; you will do things wrong. But you can also move on.''

    As the old guide finished, the traveler wandered. His points were certainly more appealing than those of the veterans. Being able to move on and not live in the past was an important value as well. One could not live his fullest life while being stuck in the past. Still, the skill to forgive himself did not come naturally to him. To forget the actions of his past also seemed unnatural. He suddenly remembered that he had a similar conversation once. While he tried to remember and see the value of both sides, the guides continued to argue.

    ''Well, you do take up too much air,'' said the master of war mockingly. ''What nonsense! Forget the past and just move on. Clearly, you have not been through as much as we have. It''s an impossible task. You will always remember your shortcomings the most. They are too strong memories to erase. You may forget them for a moment, but if something similar happens before your eyes, someone says the wrong words, or even the wind just blows the same way, they will come back. And then you have to restart the battle all over again. But if you remember them and, through the punishments you took, strengthen yourself, you can deal with the constant pain of this world and the numerous failures ahead.''

    ''Now look, he''s acting like he''s the only one who has seen war.'' said the old fighter, a little hurt. ''Trust me, I have seen my fair share of suffering. I lost my share of people close to me!'' the old guide stopped for a moment. ''But it would not help either them or me to get stuck in their memory. Or the memory of my -without a doubt-  imposing list of failures.Who would benefit from blaming myself constantly and torturing myself for events I cannot change? You cannot change the past, but you can change your future! The memories of these traumas are just holding you back. If you live in the moment, you will no longer have a limit! There will be other instances, of course, where you cannot succeed, but you can get over them quickly, not slowing yourself down in your way, just to hurt yourself even more.''

    ''Ever the bright sider I see.'' Wolf grabbed his head in annoyance. ''How can you get better without discipline? How can you find whats missing from you by seeing the lost battles as road bumps rather than a mountain to climb?''

    ''By seeing inside yourself, of course. There is limitless power there,'' said Scythian.

    Before the grim warrior could answer, the man remembered an old teaching he had heard long ago.

    ''Failures are what you make them.'' he said with a smile on his face.

    ''Excuse me?'' asked Wolf in surprise.

    ''An old philosopher told me this once. It is a teaching I have forgotten, but it is true none the less. He said that any failure in our lives is what we make of it. If we want, they are nothing more than a bump on the road. A little side note about our long list of things we did. But they can also be a great learning opportunity if we use them right. We can look back at them with the eyes of a researcher, analyze them, and know what to do and what not to do next time. In other words, all of the shortcomings are a lesson we can take, which we don''t have to forget but doesn''t have to hold us back either.''

    The guides were set back for a moment, thinking of their events, which may be looked up at in these different lights. Maybe the warmaster does not have to fear moving on anymore. Maybe the spearman does not have to throw away the bad memories, suppressing them in the back of his mind. After a while, the master of battles turned to speak.

    ''Still, there are times when you have to take action to make sure you get the message.''

    ''If that''s what serves the purpose of learning, then yes.'' said the traveler. ''But that''s something that everyone has to discover for themselves. No one learns the same way.''

    ''That sentiment is something to consider for sure.'' spoke up for the retired hero. ''But to be able to get to the point where you can truly learn from them¡ªeven if it is through punishment, as Wolf says¡ªyou have to be able to forgive yourself. To accept that the event has happened. You failed and you cant change that, but can learn from that.  Are you capable of that, my friend?''

    The man knew the answer but could not speak.

    ''That is a discussion of another time, my old companion. Now it''s time to sleep. We will leave at dawn this time.'' He got up and headed to his section.

    Then, there was one last question left. One that came in a voice similar but different. One that shocked all three of the previous conversational partners.

    ''In your dream, you said a name. Whose name was it?'' asked the Hollow.

    All three warriors stared at the creature with complete shock. It has never spoken since that night it joined the group. Why now?

    The man stared at the shadow. Thinking of the answer. The name. The person it belonged to. Then, as he closed his section, he simply said,.

    ''Good night.''

 The maze of change

    The man was lost.

    Taking the advice of another traveler, they went into the forest. The stranger claimed it was faster that way, and that the main road had been the target of bandit attacks for weeks. Although the company wasn''t sure, according to their map, the route was indeed faster. The traveler approved this change. He thanked the stranger. He couldn''t recall the face of their advisor. It was always changing in his memories, not because he had a bad memory, but because the face would not stay the same for a second. In hindsight, he realized why.

    ''You are welcome, dear traveler,'' the stranger said. ''Embrace the change, for it is the only constant in your life.''

    When the company got to the forest, nothing seemed odd. The trees were normal, sunlight cut through them. It was serene. But when they got deeper, they noticed the lack of any trace of animals. No birds were singing, no animals ran to their shelter, nothing. They did not even see as much as a single spider web. Wolf raised his concerns.

    ''I don''t like this place,'' the man recalled. ''Something is not right here.''

    As soon as he said this, giant walls erupted from the ground, separating the group. Leaving the man, for the first time in a good while, alone. He tried to shout, calling out his companions'' names. No answer came. But if he was certain of one thing, it was that they all were alright. There was no way a trap like that would be enough for seasoned adventurers like they were. And of course, the Hollow would never go away this easily. So he started to look for a way out of this mess.

    The walls constructed a giant maze. One that the man could not find a way out of. The maze was too high, with smooth surfaces so climbing was not an option. He tried his best, but every time he felt like he could get closer to the exit, the walls got in his way, blocking his path. The walls were constantly changing. He tried to use his sword at first. Maybe he could cut through. He aimed Anger at the giant walls, striking them with all his might. They weren''t even scratched. But he noticed a weird symbol on them. A sphere, bracketed by a strange, twisted sigil. It looked familiar to him.

    He stopped for a moment. Patiently, he started to listen to the sound of the walls moving, looking for a pattern. Maybe if he relaxed for a moment, he could figure out the way they were changing and find the way to get out. But the sounds were totally random. No rhythm could be found, nor pattern to recognize. There was a realization in the silence though.

    ''Everchanging walls,'' he muttered to himself. ''That symbol. By the love of God.'' The man opened his eyes in realization. ''It''s a trap of a cultist mage!''

    The cult of change was an organization known to most people. There were others like it. They were zealots, sacrificing people in traps like this to their deity, who (in their minds) had planned everything in the known universe. Every simple action taken by anyone was a part of its plan. Therefore, by serving it, they believed that they could gain the knowledge to see and change destiny. The wanderer had heard about them, but to him they (and all the others for that matter) were nothing more than blinded men and women, who got used by some people who offered a chance to not feel that helpless about their lives. It was easier than taking responsibility for their choices, after all.The realization was one that came too late, since the trap was sprung, but the traveler knew how to get out of it. All he had to do was find the way to handle change in his life.

    ''The cultist chose the wrong sacrifice,'' he thought. ''My life was nothing but change since I set out on this journey. It will be a simple matter to get out of here.''

    He started to concentrate on every change he had undergone lately. Everything he could not imagine before that had become a part of his life. Everything he had learned since embarking on this journey. Having companions while traveling. Facing the creature in that forest. Switching his pride for self-respect, learning to control his anger, taking the time for rest. Starting to face his failures of the past. All this would have been an outlandish fantasy a year ago and yet here he was with all these changes. With these thoughts and a confident smile, he started walking.

    And yet, hours later, he was still lost. The walls always changed but led him no closer to the exit. The warrior was exhausted, irritated. But most of all, disappointed in himself.

    ''I thought I had figured this out already,'' he said to himself. He sat down, at the base of one of the walls, and pulled out a pouch of water. While drinking, he looked to the sky. The trees blocked the light out almost completely. It was like dusk had already settled on the forest prematurely. Why could he not find the way out? He had so many changes lately and yet he could not handle it? ''That doesn''t make any sense. If I could not handle change, how can I still be around? The amount of things that have disappeared and taken another turn in my life would have crushed me by now!'' he thought. And yet, had they not?

    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    ''What if the problem is that all these changes came from me? I chose them to change. I made these things a part of my existence. What if there''s more to this?'' he asked himself.

    He started to wonder. How many things have changed? How many friends, places, mindsets have come and gone throughout his life? How many were his choice to let go and how many happened outside his control? (He did not like the answer to that one). And in what way did he handle them? Did he think about them at all? Or did he just go with the flow? All these thoughts, all these questions in his head made it hard to think.

    ''What would Scythian say?'' Even though the old fighter was somewhere else, his teachings were not.

    ''Oh my lad, change is nothing to worry about. Just accept it and move with it. It maybe takes you to wonderful places,'' he tried to mimic his voice the best he could.

    And although he valued his older mentor''s advice, he was sometimes overly positive. True, he can''t fight the change. It would be like someone trying to fight the setting of the sun or the flow of a river. It was the only constant thing in life; he had no doubt about that. But letting it completely take over his life? It did not sit right with him. Wouldn''t it be like letting the ship control itself? Letting go of its wheel and giving up trying to lead his life the way he wanted? Is it possible to give that up? What would Wolf say?

    ''You stupid boy! Of course, you can''t give up the control of your life! You just stand there, unwavering, with the full power of your will and smack down any bad change that''s coming your way but does not serve your goal!'' again, he tried his best to mimic the veteran''s voice.

    He could not help but chuckle to himself at how poor it was. When he sought him out, he knew that the old war hero was rough around the edges. That was one of the reasons why he wanted his help specifically. Still, sometimes he could be too blindfolded by just going forward. He was right that he should be careful about what changes he let influence his inner self. He had the power over what events could shape him and what could not. He had to have the will for that. Still, he did not agree that there would be such a thing as a bad change. Only through a person''s perspective could a change be bad and even then, through another person''s view, it could be a good change. Change just is. There''s no good change or bad change. It does not care about one''s mind or one''s need for it. Not even when it should happen. It just does, and the person is just left to deal with it. And the only way to do that was too...

    The wanderer sprang up from his seat. Suddenly the pieces came together in his mind. He started to walk again. The walls were shifting and changing still, but this time, the sigils seemed brighter on some than they were on others. He started to follow the brighter ones. Not fighting, not looking for a way out. Just going with the changes. And sure enough, this time, they did not lead him to a circle. From what he could tell, he moved further out from the center than before. But deeper into the forest. Suddenly he saw the end. The way out was just ahead at last! He had to move quickly. The traveler started running with every inch of strength he had towards the exit. He knew what probably waited for him at the end.

    ''Nice try,'' he shouted to the cultist. He did not know if he was listening, but still, he had things to say. ''But I will not be a sacrifice in your ritual! Every change, wanted or not, will lead you down a path. You have to go along with it, but the only way to deal with the change is to adapt!''

    He saw a wall just emerging on his left. With haste, he changed his direction and jumped as high as he could. He managed to reach the top of the wall just enough to push himself through the edge, and to land on the other side, outside of the labyrinth but avoiding the trap at the end.

    ''Sooner or later another path will emerge. No change of your way is permanent.''

    The walls started to crumble first. Then they cracked and fell apart. The entirety of the maze came apart. The trap was destroyed.

    When the dust settled, the wanderer reunited with his friends and told them what happened and how the ritual was broken. Wolf was in a state of rage.

    ''I think we have a cultist to find and make him break, just like his walls, to make him pay!''

    ''He''s probably long gone, I''m afraid,'' said Scythian. ''When his plan fell apart, he must have fled. Chasing him would not help anyone.''

    ''So what, we just let him get away with it?'' snarled the old warmaster.

    The man understood the rage his mentor felt. He looked for the creature but there was no sign of it. ''Maybe it fled as well?'' he hoped for a moment. Until he saw it coming out from behind a tree. It was disappointing but somewhat calming as well.

    ''Wolf, you are right, but right now we have a bigger problem. Look.'' The traveler pointed at the set of walls behind them.

    They did not crumble like the rest of them, and their end wasn''t visible in either direction. ''Well, change is only going forward, never backward,'' he thought.

    ''The way to the road is blocked. We have to find a path out of this forest first. Then we can decide how to go forward.''

    The berserker wanted to shout at first, but then he realized that the young warrior was right. After a moment, he spoke.

    ''Alright. But if we do find him, I strike him first.''

    Scythian chuckled.

    ''That''s not fair. If you strike him, what will be left for the rest of us?''

    They all chuckled a little at that thought.

    ''Alright, everyone,'' said the man finally. ''The trap was to the west, so I would say let''s try to go east.''

    The company agreed, and they started to make their way in hopes that they could leave the forest soon, not knowing that it would be more difficult than any of them thought.

 Who to be special for?

    The company had been wandering the woods for three days. At first, they tried to use their map at hand, but it did not match the sight at all. They realized that, whatever spell the cultist used had changed the entirety of the forest completely.

    The man came up with a plan. He started to draw a map of their tracks as they went. It wasn''t perfect, but it did prevent them from going in circles. No matter where they went, they could not find a way out. Be it a mysterious fog, an invisible barrier, or bushes as tall and as dense as the walls themselves, something was always blocking their path.

    One obstacle, in particular, was incredibly strange to them. It was an unbelievably big spider web. No matter how hard they cut at it with a blade or a spear, it did not even flinch. It rendered fire useless as well. Not even a full-powered blow from Wolf''s mace had any effect on it. And yet, the wanderer felt that behind it was a way out of there, but they needed to move on. By the third day, the traveler realized that the maze was just the beginning of the trap. The forest, more subtly, did what the maze could not. It wore them down. All of them were tired, enraged. Especially Wolf. He cried out in anger.

    ''Ah, for the love of all the gods! We have been walking here for an eternity, and we are nowhere closer to the exit than where we began! Maybe I should just cut down these fucking trees one by one!''

    Scythian, while exhausted himself, tried to keep his co-guide calm.

    ''Please, calm down. Shouting and anger do not do us any good. We are all tired, but don''t forget that we have a map in the making. Soon we will find our way out of here. Isn''t that right, lad?'' the old spearman turned to the young warrior.

    ''It is true,'' started the man. ''We have a map. But I''m afraid it''s already complete within these borders. See that tree over there?'' He pointed at a tree with a twisted trunk. He had drawn it on the map as a landmark and even carved a big X on it to be sure. And sure enough, it was in the same place as before.

    ''That means that we have traveled the section affected by the foe''s spell, and it is completely cut off from the rest of the forest. No way in, no way out. I still think that the spider web is our best bet right now. If we can find a way to¡ª''

    ''But there is none!'' the master of battle interrupted. ''We have already tried that! That way is completely blocked! If we had just pushed through that ''barrier'' which only you think is there, we would be out of here already!''

    The old fighter snapped at the veteran.

    ''The barrier is there! We tried our strongest, but its magic will not let us through. But maybe if you had tried harder at the mile-high bush, we could already be in a nice tavern by now!''

    Wolf readied himself. For a moment, the man wondered, as often before, what would happen if his two companions fought? Who would win? He quickly dropped the idea.

    ''Enough!'' he shouted. ''Look, fighting amongst ourselves will not solve anything. We need solutions, not further setbacks.''

    ''Oh, look at him, everyone. Isn''t the pup the big leader now? Well, since you are so special, why don''t you tell us how to get out?'' snarled Wolf. Maybe he did it on purpose, maybe not. But he did press the wrong button. With that sentence, an old feeling crept back into his soul. Amplified. A feeling which he always tried to ignore. The wanderer grabbed the map and threw it at his guide and started to shout.

    ''BECAUSE I''M NOT SPECIAL! I never was! I was always this useless, mediocre guy who is not good for anything. I never meant anything anywhere nor was important to anyone. I do not matter. I know that! Why do you think I''m so pathetic that I need guides on my way? Sometimes I may seem capable or competent, but that''s just dumb luck! I always wanted to matter, I always wanted to feel that I''m needed somewhere, that I belong to a place. That I am important, even for a little. But deep down? No matter where I am, no matter who I am with, I know that I am just not special. Why do you think that creature chose me as a prey?'' the man pointed at the Hollow. It seemed a little taller now. Stronger even. It just stood there with a shocked and puzzled expression on its face. Like a child who does not understand what it did wrong. Scythian and Wolf just stared at the man. Speechless about the confession he just made. Even though they had been traveling together for a while now, they had little idea of how deep the man''s problems and feelings were.

    Wolf was the first to speak, and he turned to the creature.

    ''It''s the monster, isn''t it? That is what gives you this feeling.''

    The warmaster lifted up his mace. He was determined to put a stop to the harm of his pupil. The creature took a step back. But before they could clash, the wanderer let out a sour chuckle.

    ''No, it''s not its doing,'' the man looked at his guide.

    ''I came to understand something since I faced it. The Hollow just amplifies my feelings and feeds upon them. It''s not capable of making me feel any way. The truth is that I always feel this way. No matter what I do or where I am, I have this feeling deep down in my soul. I can suppress it or, given the situation, I can forget it for a moment. But once the moment passes or struggles rise up, the feeling is back. That I''m insignificant. That it does not matter if I live or die. That I am not...'' He stopped. He could not speak more.

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    ''My friend,'' Scythian joined in, ''what gives you that idea?''

    ''I am not sure. I never knew the origin of it, although I have my theories. But it does not matter. None of it. I''m sorry I snapped. We should just move on. It is a problem I have to face alone.''

    ''You do not,'' said the old fighter. ''You are not traveling alone. And your thoughts and feelings matter to us, my friend. Please, share them with us.''

    The man was struck. He had not heard words like this for a very, very long time. And even when he did, they proved to be quite dangerous. People used them against him in the past. But this felt different. He could see in the eyes of his guides that they were genuine. He let out a sigh and started talking.

    ''I always wanted people to have faith in me, in the things I do. For a long time, I thought that by doing good deeds for them, pleasing them, and trying to find companionship with them, I could achieve that. The feeling that I matter to them, that I am more than just a by-passer in this world. But I never could. I wanted acceptance and understanding from the people I cared about so much and sought it so profoundly that whenever I found someone with at least a few similarities, I started to connect with them instantly. Because I wanted to feel accepted, I wanted to feel that I''m not so alone. Too many times I did this, too many times I got burned by them.''

    The man''s companions listened and took it all in for a moment while the traveler experienced a rush of memories in his head. Images of ''friends'' turned strangers, connections that were never there. Instances of love, one-sided. Passed moments where he thought he finally achieved it, only to face the reveal of it all being fake or a dream.

    The spearman was the first to speak. He placed his hand on the warrior''s shoulder.

    ''My lad, everyone wants to feel that. Everyone wants to matter, be special, significant in people''s lives. Everyone wants a piece of their own in other people''s history. There''s nothing wrong with that. Nor is it a problem. Everyone wants that reassurance from others. It feels good and sometimes it is needed as well. But by chasing it, you tie yourself down in a web. By focusing on achieving that feeling through being a part of others'' stories, you forget to write your own. Be kind to yourself and to others, and you will get to experience what you seek right now. For you are more than deserving of understanding and love. You matter to us and many people.''

    The wanderer smiled a little at this thought. It comforted him to a level. His friend continued.

    ''I have been traveling with you for a while now. I have seen you grow. And while you can be really helpful and caring to others, you often neglect these qualities for yourself. Many times have I seen that you put others'' needs before your own or being guilt-stricken when not. This is a noble quality, but don''t forget, you have to help yourself first to be able to help others correctly. So here''s my advice: give yourself the same amount of love and care that you are willing to give others. And then, you can be truly special to yourself. I bet not even that sour lug over there would argue with this.''

    Wolf smirked a little.

    ''Not necessarily, you bonesack,'' he cut back at the fast-moving spearman. Then he turned to the man. ''I would simply like to point out another approach. You say that you feel insignificant, like you don''t matter to anyone. In that, you are right.''

    The wanderer gave a puzzled look. Was this how the master of battle wanted to cheer him up? Scythian beside him simply shook his head in disbelief.

    ''Now hold on, because it''s not just you. No one does. From the lowest peasant to the highest of kings. From the little ants to the gods themselves, nothing really matters if you look from a perspective. Take anyone out of this world and in the grand scheme of things, nothing would change. Everything and everyone came from nothing and will be nothing in the end. Nothing and no one really matters in this world. So what''s the point in constantly trying to be significant in someone else''s life? Being insignificant also means that you have no expectations other than the ones that you give yourself. Why burden yourself with searching for connections with people constantly, to get validation, when you could connect with yourself and let others follow if they want? A hundred years from now, none of them will be here to worry about if you meant something to them. So why worry about it now? Everyone gets one chance at life, kid. Live it as you feel fullest, not chasing others'' validations. Be the main character in your own story, not a side character in someone else''s. And in that sense, be special to yourself and not to someone else. And to be clear: do you think I would have accepted your offer in that tavern if I didn''t think that you are special?''

    The wanderer smiled at the veteran. He felt a little relieved. He felt that finally, he was understood. Even though he had his doubts. Can he do it? Can he take care of himself the same way he took care of others? Can he make himself matter to himself the same way he wanted to matter to others? How does he even do that? It must have been written on his face because Wolf spoke again.

    ''It''s no easy task, I know that. But with a strong enough will, you can find the way to do it.''

    ''And you have plenty of that. You just have to use it,'' assured Scythian.

    ''Thank you,'' spoke the man. ''Both of you. For being here. And for believing in me.''

    The guides simply smiled, and the veteran said, ''Now, it''s your turn.''

    The creature did not understand. This prey so far was different than any before him. None had the courage to address it. Usually, they just ignored its presence. A foolish mistake, but not for it. For the longer they ignored it, the longer its feast could last. The stronger it could become. And yet the only one who was brave enough to face it and travel with it had such doubts about himself? When he even...

    It saw into the prey''s soul, but not clearly. It was like looking at a disturbed ocean of memories and feelings. It saw glimpses and pieces of events. Where did these thoughts come from? What could have given these feelings to the man? Of course, it shouldn''t have concerned itself with this, as these feelings and emotions fueled it, but it was... curious.

    Suddenly, it saw a memory. From long ago, but it was strongly imprinted in its prey. The Hollow reached out and pulled it to the surface and beyond.

 What I needed

    The company was still clueless on how to get back on the road. They explored the entirety of the forest but found no way out. The traveler did not give up, though. He tried to climb the trees, junp over the bushes, and even look into every rabbit and fox hole they found. Though the animals were long gone from here, it was clear that before the cultist cast his spells, they lived here. Perhaps they would return once the curse was broken.

    Regardless, the efforts of the unconventional wayfinder bore no fruit. The company ran out of ideas just as fast as they ran out of rations. The food and drink they bought in the latest town grew thin. Without animals to hunt and without water to drink, they would not survive for long. The whole group was exhausted and silent. Not a word came from any of them. They were all lost in thought.

    Maybe that''s why they could hear it so clearly.

    The sounds of crying flow through the woods. It was quiet, but undeniably there. ''Did someone else get trapped here?'' The man asked himself. He and his guides started to make their way in the direction of the sound. It was far away from them, almost at the other end of the trapp.

    Wolf was the first to see it.

    ''That spineless bastard,'' he cried in anger. ''How could he target a helpless child?''

    When the others caught up to him, they were all shocked, but the traveler more than any other.

    Between the two trees, there was a little boy. Could be no older than eight. He buried his face in his hands. He was crying and sobbing. He did not even notice the group. He just stood there, with all his sorrow, alone. No adult or parent was in sight.

    Just the boy.

    ''Oh my. This is horrible!'' said Scythian. ''How could he even find his way here? He must cry out of fear.''

    ''What do we do now?'' the enraged veteran asked. ''Do we take him with us? We don''t even have enough supplies for ourselves.''

    The shocked warrior did not hear the question. His thoughts raced in his head.

    ''How could he be here? Why does he see this? Is this another trick of the spell? How does the cultist even come up with this?''

    His heart grew heavy. Like if it were in a grip. All at once, the pieces came together in his mind. It was not the spells doing.

    Still, what should he do about this? What could he tell the boy? He did not have the answers. But in his mind, he knew he had to talk to him. He had to talk to this child. This time, he did not want to run from him.

    ''Wait here,'' the man told his companions.

    They looked puzzled but did not ask a thing. The traveler approached the sorrowful child.

    ''Hey, kid.''

    The man approached the child, who, in fright, took two steps back.

    ''Hey, hey. Its okay. I''m not here to hurt you. No one is going to hurt you here,'' he said, sitting down on the ground and watching the child''s reaction.

    The little boy stopped; he still had tears in his eyes. He stared at the man. There was silence. The boy saw something in the man''s eyes. Understanding.

    ''Why don''t you tell me what happened?'' The man smiled at the child.

    ''I don''t want to. You would not care. It''s a stupid thing anyway. Im stupid for thinking it.''

    The man felt a grip on his heart. He knew what happened. He knew what the boy felt. He knew why he thought that.

    ''No, you''re not,'' the listener said. ''You are smart. Really smart. Whatever you feel now is neither stupid nor invalid. Please. Tell me. I will listen.''

    He handed a rag to the boy. The little kid took it and wiped his tears, blowing his nose even. With a sobbing voice, the child started to speak.

    ''Well, I wanted to talk to my mom. She was in a hurry to work, you see. I have a little brother. I love him. I really do, but the child stopped for a moment.

    ''Go on, I will not judge.'' Said the wanderer, kindly. The child came closer and sat down in front of the man.

    ''I feel jealous of him. You see, ever since he was born, he has gotten all the attention from my parents. As if they forgot about me. They don''t play with me. They don''t care about me. I feel like my mother does not love me anymore,'' the boy started sobbing again. ''I tried to talk with her about it, but... but she just said that... she said... she told me to "leave her alone with my stupidity",'' the boy started to cry harder. His little heart was broken.

    The gentle listener saw the pain in the child. He grabbed the rag from the kid and started to wipe his tears.

    ''Shhh, shhh. There, there. It''s okay; there''s no one to harm you now. You are safe.'' As he wiped away the tears, he remembered the feeling. The hurt. The abbandontment. And he also thought. Of what could have been.

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    It took a while for the little one to calm down. The man patiently waited, and when he did, he started to speak.

    ''There. I know what you are going through. I know what you think. But I think that your mother loves you very much. And she never wanted to make you feel this way. She just did not grasp the true depth of your feelings.''

    The child looked at the traveler.

    ''But why? Doesn''t she care about me?''

    ''She does,'' answered the man. ''She''s just having a hard time showing it, I believe. At least not in the way that you would need it. She does not know how to do it. She doesn''t have a sibling, right?''

    The boy shook his head.

    ''She is not familiar with what you feel right now and has never learned how to help it. She is just a human. And humans make a lot of mistakes. This is just one of hers.''

    The kid looked at the traveler, asking.

    ''What about my father? He has a brother.''

    ''Have you ever heard him talk about his feelings?'' replied the man.

    Again, the boy shook his head.

    ''You are their first child. They don''t know how to be parents.''

    ''So that''s it? I''m stupid for expecting them to know how to care for me.

    ''No,'' said the man quickly. ''Just because you know the reason behind someone''s motives and actions doesn''t mean that they are right or that they are free of responsibility for their actions. Or, in this case, that your feelings would be invalid. And even still, Your mother should not have dismissed you like that. She should have listened, or said that you would talk about it when she got home from work. It is a big mistake on her part. Especially in respect of what you will think after that incident. What you think right now and what you feel right now are valid. No matter the reason why someone made you feel this way,''

    ''But, if she would care, she would want to know how I feel,'' replied the boy.

    ''Again, she does care. She wants to know if something hurts you. But sometimes it is hard for people to understand the kind of love the other person needs.''

    ''But its so simple!'' snapped the kid. ''I mean, you just have to listen to the one you love! Try to understand that person. Show compassion. It is so logical!''

    The wanderer chuckled. Even at this age, the boy sought the reason behind his actions and the ways of the word. Even if it was naive of him, He wondered for a second, wondering if that naivety had ever truly left him.

    ''You will find that most people¡ªincluding yourself¡ªwill not act according to logic, especially if emotions are involved.''

    ''It sounds stupid and overcomplicated,'' scratched the boy''s head.

    ''Oh boy, you have no idea,'' replied the man with a big smile.

    The little boy smiled with him. For a moment, he forgot what he was sad about. But the moment had passed. His face soured. He looked at the man.

    ''Still. I don''t know what to do with this pain. I still feel worthless. I still feel like... like...'' The child could not finish the sentence. He did not have to. The man knew exactly what he wanted to say. He knew the feeling all too well. And because of that, Precisely because of that. He knew what to say. What he needed.

    He placed his hands on the boy''s shoulders.

    ''Listen to me and listen well. That feeling is in you. That little voice in your head telling you that you are worthless and that you don''t matter is wrong. It''s lying to you. It is a false voice; do not listen to it. Your feelings matter. Your existence matters. You matter. And you are not abandoned. You are loved. You don''t have to earn that from anyone; you don''t have to perform any great acts for it. You deserve it. You always had, and you always will. Never let anyone or anything make you think otherwise. And I promise you that I will always be here to listen to you. To hear you out and to comfort you. Because I love you, kid, and because you matter to me. More than you know.''

    The boy started to cry. But this time, because of the joy and the words that he wanted to hear, The words that did not come from his mother. But from himself. He hugged his older self. Who whispered something in his ears? The child asked with a soft voice.

    ''Do you truly believe that?''

    ''I know that,'' said the traveler.

    ''Thank you.''

    The child started to dissapear and came apart with a distinct light. Until the comforted hugged nothing but the air.

    The man got up. His company watched from the same place they had noticed the child for the first time.

    ''What was that? Another trick?'' asked Wolf.

    The man gave an undernoticed look to the Hollow. It was a look that the creature took as ''Nice try,'' at first. But the prey''s face softened. It turned into another expression. ''Thank you.''

    ''It was,'' said the man. ''Intended to break my resolve, no doubt. To make me collapse under the weight of my doubts and to abandon our quest to make it out of this forest. It was a memory of mine. Back from my childhood. It was true. Every word of what the child said. I remember those feelings as well. This was the first time I can remember that I felt them. I did not know how to deal with it back then, so I guess it just stayed with me since.''

    The wanderer, for a moment, remembered the situation of old. But now he reminded himself of the same thing he told the child. He still smiled. Scythian noted that.

    The veteran was puzzled.

    ''But how would the cultist now use your own memories against you?''

    ''I don''t know. Magic?'' The traveler shrugged.

    ''No matter how he knew,'' the spearman joined the conversation. ''I''m glad you could pull yourself through this challenge as well, lad. And all on your own!''

    The traveler turned to his mentor.

    ''No, I did not do this alone. Your words helped me through it. Thank you. With your help, I was able to give myself what I needed back then.''

    ''Don''t underestimate yourself,'' the warmaster said. ''Our words might have helped, but you were the one who did the work. Not everyone can break a magical attack like that. You need a tremendous amount of will for that.''

    The man was struck by those words. Will I be able to break magic? One of his teachers mentioned something like that. He even gave him...

    He suddenly started to go through his backpack in search of something. He unpacked everything, from the top to the bottom. Wolf and Scythian did not understand what was going on.

    ''Uhm, what are you doing?'' asked the berserker. The seeker did not answer. ''Do I even have it?'' he asked himself.

    Suddenly, he stopped. He pulled out a little black notebook. It had a leather cover. Some paper was ill-adjusted and almost fell out. The man opened it and pulled one of the papers out. Then he packed everything back. He knew what he had to do. He turned to his guides with a confidence they rarely saw from him.

    ''I know how to get out of here,'' he said. His voice was determined and strong.

    ''We have to go back to the spider web.''

 Beware the power inside

    The company tracked their way back to the giant web. Even though his companions did not understand at first why the man wanted to go back there, any attempt to break the web was futile. It was unnaturally dense and hard. No blade could scratch it. No fire could burn it. In previous attempts, they could only remove their weapons from it with great effort. After every strike, they got stuck to it. It was, without a question, created by the spell.

    And yet. The man was sparkling with never-before-seen confidence. Whatever he was planning, he did not share with the rest of the group. But he seemed certain that the new way he found would work and that it would lead out the group in this forest.

    They reached the web again. It was there, the same as before. Not even an echo of their tries was on it. It took up several trees, but the largest piece was between two huge ones. Its texture almost got lost in its many layers, but what came through them was (even in the circumstances) beautiful, right out of myth. As if it were weaved by the goddess Athena herself. The confident ranger remembered the tales. A mortal woman contested the goddes of wisdom in a competition to weave a tapestry. It ended with the woman, Arachne, being turned into the world''s first spider by the offended goddes, as she could not beat her mortal opponent. He wondered if something similar could happen. After all, the cult worshipped a god of its own. A god of whom construction he now will destroy. He quickly got the idea out of his head.

    ''That "god" is just a tale used by people to explain things they don''t understand or are afraid of.,'' he reminded himself.

    The wanderer stopped before the construct, thinking. He looked at the paper that he got out of the notebook. It was old and yellow, but its content was what mattered. It has a little drawing as well, which showed a sword with a burning blade. The man stared at it. He knew what he had to do now. His confidence wavered for a moment. Can he do it? He turned to his puzzled guides with a question.

    ''Tell me, how would you define will?''

    The two men looked at each other for a moment. None of them knew why this topic was important for the man at this moment. They remained silent. So the traveler asked again.

    ''You two spoke to me about "strong enough will" and the use of it all the time. Yet you can''t define it?'' He could not help but smirk a little at this thought.

    Wolf must have been on the same page because he started to laugh hard.

    ''Oh, of course! Right after I explain to you the true meaning of life and the birth of the universe. There is no "definition" for certain things, and that includes will. Even if there was, some things are just so subjective that it is effectively meaningless to have one.''

    ''It is a nice way to say that you can''t define it, you hound,'' joined in Scythian. ''While it''s not a textbook definition, I would define it as the thing that sets you in motion. Will is the drive that makes you do things. Once you make a decision, for example, it is with your will that you see it through. It is your will that makes you act toward your goals, and the lack of it is what holds you back. It is the single biggest power that you can affect the world with.''

    ''You forgot one thing as usual, you relic,'' snarled the warmaster. ''Will is the most important part of self-control as well. If you want to change something about yourself¡ªyour mindset, your habits¡ªit is with your will that you can hold on to your intention. Just like in the labyrinth. While it was by adapting that you overcame the trap, it was your willingness to do so that did the trick. Same with the emotions. Sadness, excitement...,'' the berserker stopped for a moment. ''Anger. It is your will that gives them focus. It is with your focus that you let them sink in or aim them if needed. With your intent and power, you can change your view of the outside world and discipline yourself. And that can go a long way.''

    The wanderer stood there. He noticed just the topic he was interested in in both of his companions definitions.

    ''You both seem to agree on one point. That willpower can influence the world around you. But are you aware of the more practical uses of this sentiment?''

    The guides stood, puzzled, for a moment. Then the veteran asked the question.

    ''You''re talking about magic, aren''t you?''

    The traveler simply nodded. He knew that both of his guides are great warriors and that they have been fighting all around the world. So, naturaly. They saw a great many things in the fields of battle. Experiences that could help them right now.

    ''Hmph. Thought so. Of course, on the battlefield, it is a great asset, but a rare one. Not many people can learn it, and those who do most of the time are a bigger threat to their allies than to the enemy.'' The master of battle looked startled for a moment. ''You know, I did see a knight once who used magic on the battlefield.''

    The old spearman looked surprised.

    ''You fought alongside one of the Knights of Magic? They are a rare sight, but very skilful, from what I heard. One of the best duelists in all the realms!''

    ''It is a pain to admit it, but you are right. And it was a sight to see. Most of that fight is a blur, but I remember him. He had green armor¡ªa master-crafted one at that. It looked a little ridiculous, but I would have taken it over anything else. The blades that struck at him could not even scratch it. Of course, those that reached him at all. He dueled, like no other, with such focus and precision that his foes fell before him like leaves from a tree in autumn. One moment, I saw him go up against a giant warrior. He struck at him with a mallet and made him fly back a couple of meters, dopping his sword. The next I saw, he conjured up a shiled to block his enemies next strike, then turned it into a spear, ramming it straight to its throat!'' The veteran smiled. ''Never seen a sight like that ever since.Now that''s someone with an iron will! He never wavered, no matter the foe. He knew that he needed to stop them and let nothing stand in his way.''

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    The others listen to the old war story. The traveler heard about the Knights. They were a sacred and ancient order of the realms, defending the people where they needed them. They were all magic users of some sort. Once upon a time, he even wanted to join. But later, he realized it was not his path.

    But one question remained in his mind.

    ''Wolf, why don''t you use magic? I mean, you have the willpower. So why did you not join the Knights?''

    The battlemaster simply shrugged his shoulders.

    ''I don''t know. I could do it, of course, but I never cared for all that learning and reading. I''m a man of simple actions. I see an enemy, and I crush it. I drink beer. I sleep. All those dogmas and rules just shift my focus,'' he said, then added. ''Altough it could be nice. Can you imagine? Just will something up, to drop it on the enemy. But that would take years of practice.''

    The man could only imagine what his mentor would conjure up. And they were not adequate.

    But it was a good reminder: willpower by itself was nothing more than wishes. If he wanted to use it properly for his goals, he needed to pair it with actions. Just thinking about them and then waiting for the universe to give them to him was foolish. He needed definition and action. But how could he know if his goals and choices were the right ones?

    He turned to his older mentor.

    ''What about you, Scythian? What magics did you encounter?''

    The old spearman stratled a little, as if he were lost in thought.

    ''Oh, well, not much, to be honest. Nothing as memorable as Wolf''s story,'' the old fighter said.

    The man knew he was hiding something. He did not want to show off, but for their sake, the warrior asked again.

    ''You are a great scholar, my friend. So why is it that you only use so few of your spells? You must know more than what you showed off so far.''

    Both of the other parties in his group were struck.

    ''Wait, what is he talking about?'' Wolf turned to the humble fighter. Even the old scholar couldn''t believe it at first.

    ''How did you even know?'' he asked the man.

    The young scholar just smiled. He knew his guide could put together the picture on his own.

    He was right. With a chuckle, the speed fighter started to explain.

    ''Should have guessed. Very well. In my younger days, I served in court. A very highly regarded one. I was a neophyte in the court of King Arthur, the master of the Knights of Magic. Sir Galahad was my courtmaster. He taught me nearly everything I know about fighting.''

    The wolf''s jaw was dropped for a half-second. He could not believe that the old man learned from some of the best warriors in the world. Then, he smiled at his companion.

    ''Huh, you would be a decent fight after all.''

    Before the former neophyte could answer, the man interjected.

    ''Why did you stop? In battle, I saw you enhance your speed. You even did it when we first met, but nothing else. So why did you quit being a neophyte?''

    Scythian sighed.

    ''It is simple. For you to command the forces of nature. To place your intent on reality and bend it, you need will. Unbreakable, everlasting one. Will indomitable. But I think that sentiment has a big danger. The danger of being too sure. If we are just men, how could we be right every time? In my mind, with every decision you make, you need to be ready to change it. To set things in stone is to be too overconfident and arrogant. As we talked before, we must be humble and ready to learn new ways, even if they are outside of our comfort zone. You can''t do that if you are not willing to detour your mindset.''

    The pupil listened. He understood now both of his guides flaws and points. It is true. If you let your will be too dominant and stoic, it will stop your growth. Even still, there was another thing in Scythians words, which he was too familiar with. Fear. Self-doubting yourselves all the time means that you cut yourself off from one of your greatest powers. With a smile, he said this to his mentors.

    ''Thank you for sharing this with me. But Scythian,'' he turned to the once-squire. '' The will indomitable does not mean that you have to keep yourself from learning new things. It means that once you make a decision¡ªgiven that you examined every aspect of it that you could¡ªyou do not deter from it. You stand by it and see it through. You might fail; you might be proven wrong. But you don''t let the fear of this possibility stop you. It is just that. A possibility, not a certanity.''

    With that, he turned back to the web once more. He gazed upon the paper one final time. The spell was given to him by his former teacher.

    Sir Lionell, one of the great knights.

    He drew his sword. He immadietly felt the veins crawling up his skin. The rage and anger he was feeling from being stuck in this forest were still great. But this time, he closed his eyes. He focused with every last bit of his will, controlling his rage and rerouting it into something else. He was using it, concentrating on his goals. The vines stopped crawling and turned from pirch black to sparkling gold. He put together all his might, the might of his will, and his anger.

    He will get out of this trap. He will complete his journey. He will find the treasure. And he will not let anyone stand in his way!

    With these thoughts, his power reached its peak. He uttered a word to pull it all together.

    ''Anathema.''

    His blade burst into flames of empyric might. All those present looked at me in awe. Even the Hollow was struck by it. The warrior looked surprised too at his accommodation for a moment. Then, with a mighty cry, he thrust his weapon forward into the web. The construct could not be cut by any traditional means. But against a magical attack, it was helpless. The flames spread throughout it, burning away the giant barrier.

    It revealed that behind it were numorous other webs. Placed for people to get stuck in them, no doubt. But the flaming swordsman did not care. He thought of another name to bind his next spell together. The words and their meaning did not matter, but they helped to visualize what the caster wanted to achieve with the move. He swung his power-fueled weapon with a shout.

    ''Pulse of Apollo!''

    The fire from his blade jumped forward, becoming bigger and wider. As if a wave of the sea would strike the land. It burned every spider web in their path.

    The man was grasping for air after the flames were gone, but he had a smile all over his face. Not just for his achievement, but for what he saw at the far end of the forest. It was not his flame''s light. It was the sun. He turned back to his companions with that smile.

    ''What are you waiting for? Let''s get going! We must find the treasure...''

    The last thing he saw was that wolf running towards him before he fainted from exhaustion.

    Not so far away. The mage felt something. A magical awakening. It was nearby, from what he could tell. He stopped in his tracks for a moment. This power was great. The sheer amount of it, at least. But it was unrefined. It lacked the true finesse of someone who understood this craft. Still, it felt like a threat for some ungraspable reason for him. As if he has felt something like that before. But where? And when?

    Overall. It did not matter. If it was in the past, he long overgrow it. And if it was not, well.

    Who could possibly stop him?

    With these thoughts, he continued to the city before him. None of them knew what was coming.

 The truest mercy Part-1

    The group continued outwards of the forest once the man became conscious again. Thanks to his efforts, the way to the road was clear. Some parts of the web managed to stay clear of the firestorm, but only in small chunks. Nothing blocked their way anymore.

    However, the group remained silent. They still couldn''t comprehend what they saw on their way out. Wolf was the first to talk.

    ''Okay, so I wasn''t the only one to see that thing, right?''

    On their way out, they saw a company of giant figures with around five or six members, clad in armor from head to toe. The leader of the group had a winged helmet and a cloak with different furs in it. No doubt kept as thropies. The leader was standing at least three meters tall, with his companions standing at at least two and a half meters as well. Their armor was dark green, like a healthy forest. On their shoulder pads, their insignia was a winged sword, and they carried weapons unheard of by any of them. The group quickly decided to keep their distance from them, as they didn''t even seem to notice their presence. After a minute or so, they seemed to vanish from the forest without a trace. Whether it was another trick by the spell or something else entirely, the wanderer could not tell.

    ''No, I saw them too,'' said Scythian. ''It was certainly... an unexpected encounter. But I think it was good that we stayed out of their way. There is no need for bloodshed.''

    Wolf grinned a little. While the warmaster was certain that should there have been a confrontation, they would have lost, he still didn''t like it when he avoided a fight.

    ''What, you are a pacifist now all of a sudden, you bone rack?''

    Before the former squire could answer, the traveler drew out his sword.

    ''Speaking of unexpected encounters, look who is standing over there.''

    At the edge of the road stood a robbed figure. Its cloak was instantly recognizable for them. Especially with the symbol on its back. It was the same cultist.

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    The traveler started charging at it. He needed to reach it before he realized what was happening; otherwise, it might run away. The cultist spun around. Its face still changed with every second. It quickly threw a spell at the man. He could feel the pressure coming his way. But he was faster, changing his course just enough to avoid the attack. Not intending to give his foe another chance, he quickly jumped, and with a cry, he prepared to cut his enemy in half. But then the cultist cried out.

    ''I yield, I yield, have mercy!''

    That stopped the man for a moment. He landed right before the spellcaster but he did not strike. Instead, Scythian was the one who (appearing out of nowhere) had his spears blunt end meet with the cultists head, knocking it to its back. It tried to get back up, only to meet the tip of the man''s sword. Not long after, Wolf joined them. He was dirty. No doubt, the spell that the cultist manifested caught him. It cried again.

    ''Please don''t kill me! Im sorry for what I have done. Please have mercy.''

    Wolf turned to their pathetic prey.

    ''Oh, but of course! We will forget the torture you put us through now that you said your sorry and let you go. Better yet, you will come with us, and we will be the best of friends!''

    The cultist stopped for a moment.

    ''R-really?''

    ''Of course. First bonding exercise: I WILL SMASH YOUR HEAD WITH MY MALLET!''

    The berserker readied his weapon, but Scythian stopped him.

    ''Wait! There must be another way!''

    ''Oh, don''t tell me that you are going soft on us now!'' snarled the bloodthirsty warrior.

    ''I''m just saying that there is no need for this! Look in the distance! There is a bigger city. They must have a form of city guard. Let''s bring it to them, and they will bring the cultist to justice.''

    Wolf had a clear disgust in his face.

    ''And what is your guarantee that it will not manipulate the guard to slip away, just to do more harm in the city? Or what if it manages to get away from us? We don''t really have the equipment to transfer it. Not even some cuffs for its hands. No. We have to end it right here and now.''

    Scythian stood stern.

    ''If we knock it out, it will not have the chance to cause trouble. Besides, it was easy to defeat. It is clearly a weak, pathetic individual now that he cannot deceive us.''

    ''Hey! Im right here,'' said the cultist.

    ''Silence!'' said both of the warriors.

    While they continued to argue, the man wandered in his mind. Mercy. And giving it to someone who hurt him before. He had an encounter like this before. One fateful encounter

 The truest mercy-Part 2

    A group of young warriors walking through the forest. Five strong and happy warriors. There was a good reason for their good mood; after all, they just hunted down a large boar. One that could feed their village through weeks to come. It was much needed too; this year''s crops did not come as they planned. On the lead was the young warrior, who brought the boar down. And right beside him, there was Wingrall.

    As a boy, he stumbled up on the village as an orphan. No family, no friends. Just a hungry and lost boy. He found shelter in a house of a kind couple, without a kid  on their own in the outskirt of the settlement. They took him in and gave the boy everything they could. They loved him as their own. He quickly got accepted by the other villagers as well. Most of all, a young little boy who he befriended right away.

    He was around the same height as the young aspirant, though he was bald, and as usual, he had a dark red cloak to hide his face. He had more muscles than his friend. But his size was always misleading, for even with his two-handed sword, he proved more than a match in speed to his fellow warriors. All he wore was simple clothes even in battle, because according to him, the best defense was to kill your enemy before it could strike you.

    The two of them were unseparable, ever since both of them were but children in the village. Though not of the same blood, they were like brothers to each other. They trusted each other like no one else; on the field of battle, they were unstoppable. And while Wingrall was never that much of a peoples person, the young swordsman always felt valued because of the feeling, that from all others the lone warrior gave him his trust. That is why when the ambitious warrior got the chance to be trained by the village elder, he insisted that he share his secrets with Wingrall too.

    The would-be knight was thrilled with the results of today''s hunt. With joy, he turned to his brother.

    ''It is truly a lucky day to us! Finding a beast of this size and bringing it down. Though it was not easy, it will solve many problems. Who knows? Maybe this will prove to the elder to further our training! What do you think, my friend?''

    His ally remained silent. Though he wasn''t always the man of words, this time the young aspirant noticed that there was something else behind it, something he could not quite put his hands on. It was like his partner in battle sized his surroundings. The joyful hunter took a quick look around but did not notice anything that would suggest an ambush or them being followed.

    Regardless, he whispered.

    ''Is something wrong? Are we being watched?''

    At first Wingrall did not answer. Not until they reached a clearing in the woods. There, the cloaked warrior stopped and turned around, drawing his weapon. His companions stood confused for a moment, looking around for the threat.

    ''What do you see, brother?'' asked the warrior drawing his own sword.

    ''My prize, and the fools standing between me and it.''

    Wingrall moved quickly. With a charge, he ran past the warrior, stabbing one of the other fighters in the chest, ending him in one strike.

    All of the others stood shocked for a moment as the life escaped from the murdered ones eyes. The betrayer drew out his sword from the chest and struck out, aiming for the fighter on his right. There was an attempt to block the strike with a spear, but the hunting equipment was quickly slashed in two. However, the motion at least allowed the fighter to live through the attack with a slash on his arm. He fell over as Wingrall turned around to block a stab from a hunting knife of the last uninjured member, grabbing his arm and gripping it hard. The hunter dropped the knife as he heard his bones cracking slowly. He felt to his knees screaming for help as his foe prepared his blade to end him.

    ''Enough!'' A cry was heard.

    The shocked warrior finally snapped and jumped at Wingrall. The strike did not mean to injure, only to separate him from the victims. It worked as the cloaked brute jumped backwards, landing behind the warrior who now stood between his companions and his once-brother with his sword in his hand.

    He did not understand a thing. Why would he do this? Murdering one of their comrades? Calling them fools? His thoughts were racing. One answer came to mind.

    ''Wingrall! Can you hear me, brother? Whatever struck you,  whatever darkness had got a grip on you, fight it! Please tell me what to do to aid you! I know your in there; snap out of it. This isn''t you!'' he shouted in desperation.

    ''Yes, this must be it!'' he thought. ''Something took over his mind. Something we could not see. But I know him. He must be fighting inside his mind desperately to break free of this control. I just have to find a way to aid him. To save him! Hang on, brother, I''m not going to leave you.''

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    It was the only logical explanation for him. That is, until the suspected slave started laughing. As if he heard the world''s greatest joke.

    ''Oh, my "brother" in arms,'' he said with a sarcastic voice. ''What a noble sentiment. What a great hero you are. A defender of lives! A warrior of the light! A naive, idiotic, useless fool! A dog.  Look at you, I just killed one of your companions, and still you are trying to save me! Like a good little dog, always loving his master even as he beats him to death!''

    The young warrior were stunned. How could Wingrall say those things to him?

    ''Wh-what are you talking about? Wingrall, please, whatever the cause that youre doing this, we can find another way together; just like we always did! Just talk to me! Say what should I do-''

    The cloaked Villian stopped him.

    ''This is what I''m talking about! You are still thinking that I attacked you and berrated you because someone or something forced me to. You can''t even imagine the possibility that Im doing this because I want to! By the gods, youre pathetic!''

    Wingrall looked at his last obstacle with disgust and continued.

    ''There is nothing forcing me. No spell, no threats, no conspiracy. This is my design. The reason while I was sticking arround that pitifull village for years now. Waiting for the perfect moment to do it. I always knew that I should have greater things than that pitifull settlement. That I deserve a fiefdom of my own at the very least! That I alone should be the ruler of all those pathetic weaklings arround me! I just needed a way to accomolish it.  Tell me, what do you think those villagers will be willing to do for that much meat in this year when starving is so close? When they are hungry and desperate? Anything. Those ants will be under my thumb and give me anything I desire. With time, not just them but the towns all around this region. I will have my own county, kingdom even! No one will be able to stand up to me. Except the elder knight in the village. I knew that in order to slay that vintage old bag of skin and bones, I needed more power. I needed to learn his tricks. But he never trusted me enough to teach me. He might have been on to me and my true nature for a while now. So I needed a way to get closer to him and learn his secrets. Thats when it struck me. I had the perfect tool for that already!''

    The traitor lifted his blade and pointed at the betrayed comrade.

    ''You. To be honest, I never liked you that much. Always so clingy, so dependent on me. Like I am your life support. Talking and sharing your deepest secrets after so little of meeting me. It was a torture, but just as any good tool, you needed maintance. The only reason that I did not kill you was that you and your family were respected, and with you as my "friend," the villagers would not be that suspicious of me. So I just played along. When I formulated the plan of taking over the village, you mentioned that the elder offered to teach you the ways of combat. It was so convenient, I honestly suspected a trap. But it was not. And now that I learned that old man''s ways add my own strength to the mix, I am ready to take what is rightfully mine.''

    Hearing these things shattered everything in the betrayed warrior. All their memories, their bond, their trust, and their experiences. All these were just a ruse to use him? All these were nothing more but a way to the end for Wingrall to his goals? Was he this much of a fool that all these years he did not notice this darkness in his closest friend? No, it could not be true. It was not true. Not to him.

    ''Brother, please stop this. This is not you! I know you. You love the villagers, your family, us! Think of how much we have been through together. All of the fun we had, all the hardships we overcame. Those could not be just a play. You know that. Please lower your weapon; let us find a way to solve this like we always do. I swear it''s not too late to change this course that you had taken. To save everything that we had, that we have built together. Please just wait.''

    The cloaked deceiver lost his temper.

    ''See?! This is what I''m talking about! Even when I betray you, you deny everything. You still think that this is some passing madness that you can help me overcome! You gave your trust so easily to me, so naively, never even considering that you are being used! I''ve got news for you: I was never your friend. You were nothing more than a piece of paper that I used, and now I dont need it anymore. So I am throwing you away! You were always just a pet for me. A convenient little dog who could further my goals. And now that you''re not, you are just another untied string I need to cut down.''

    The young warrior almost broke out in tears. Because there was no denying anymore. Everything Wingrall said was true. He was used. And now he was thrown away and betrayed. He was a fool all this time.

    ''But I guess there is another way,'' the betrayer continued.

    ''Even if unknowingly, you have served me well. Now here''s your chance to do it on purpose. Join me. Be my servant, and you will have a place in my new state. This way we can stay together, just like you want.

    All you have to do to prove your loyalty is to cut down those two. Serve me well, and I will be generous. Who knows? Maybe you can be my friend for real this time.''

    The young warrior heard this offer. The offer to betray everyone he knew for the brother he thought he knew. To sacrifice the people who had truly trusted him. He knew what had to be done. He raised his sword.

    ''You know I will never do that. Don''t make me fight you, Wingrall. Leave now and do not return.''

    The cloaked overlord raised his own blade.

    ''I know. Yet despite everything  you still offer me mercy. How weak. Don''t worry, I will not make the same mistake!''

    And with that, they charged.

 The truest mercy- Part 3

    They met halfway through the field, clashing their swords into one another. The defender was surprised for a moment; his weapon survived a clash of this magnitude. After all, it was an old blade, which he did not have time to reforge in to its former glory. His father gave it to him as a gift. Sir Lionel told him that it has a special power once he makes it his own. But right now it was dormant. Right now all he had was his skills, his sorrow, and his anger.

    Wingrall betrayed him. Betrayed the whole village and was planning to do harm to the people he once too called his own. The aspirant could not let that happen. Still, does he have what it takes to take down his former brother?

    All this was but a moment of thinking. Wingrall took advantage of this and quickly broke the sword lock by pushing his opponent''s blade downwards, opening him to a strike at his neck.

    This made the young warrior snap back to the fight and duck away from the strike, only avoiding it by a hair and striking his foe in the knee with his free hand. This struck the attacker for a moment, enough for the young warrior to jump back up and give his opponent a backhanded strike, giving a little space between them.

    But the cunning brute would not be beaten so easily. He even chuckled as he wiped away a drop of blood from his mouth.

    ''Well, well,'' he said. ''This dog has some fight in him after all.''

    ''Wingrall, please. Don''t make me do this. If you won''t stop for the sake of me, think of your family. They took you in; they loved you as their own. Would you really leave them behind?''

    The cloaked Villian''s face soured for a moment.

    Then he spoke.

    ''It is up to them. Should they not oppose me, I will give them a place in my new domain. If they stand in my way, well, they will have the same fate as you!'' The betrayer charged again.

    The young aspirant was ready this time. He was done talking. Deep down, he accepted the fact. He cannot save the one he once called brother.

    Wingrall thrust his blade forward, intending to impale his opponent. The squire quickly struck the move aside and tried to deliver a blow to his enemies arm, but it missed as his opponent took a swift step to the right, punching him in the ribs. This broke his attack, but there was no time to recover as his attacker struck again.

    They started dealing blows. Every strike met with a parry. Any attack that would have slayed any other foe was dodged. The wounded spectators could hardly keep up as the fight got more and more intense. Every time one took advantage with a full-powered blow, the other avoided it and turned it into a strike of their own.

    Still, as the fight went on, they got more and more wounded. One of Wingrall''s thrusts was barelly avoided by the young warrior, wounding him on his side. Pain ran through him; he could taste the blood in his mouth. And hear a voice in his head. ''Kill him.'' He turned the pain into motion as he feigned a strike to his foe''s left, quickly turning it to the right, and slicing the traitor across his chest. Wingrall moved away but could not avoid the full blow. He cried out in pain and anger.

    Then they continued. They knew every trick the other had. Every strength, every weakness. They were evenly matched. Or so it seemed.

    They engaged in another sword lock. The betrayer started to become impatient. He wanted to end this feud already. He wanted to slay these fools and take what was his right.

    ''Enough of this game! I have more fun to be had,'' he acclaimed. ''I shall go back to the village. I will take everything that is mine! Besides, taking some, I will enjoy more than others.''

    The warrior was shocked by those words. His rage grew inside him more and more. ''He can''t mean...''

    But his trail of thoughts was quickly derailed as his foe kicked him in the chest with all the power he had. As the young warrior flew backwards, he managed to land on his feet.

    ''DO NOT LET HIM WIN. USE ALL YOUR POWER, NOOOW!'' The voice cried out in his head.

    He still did not know where this voice came from. All he knew was that his sword started to crackle with strange energies. As he stood up, one thing became clear. He cannot let Wingrall walk away from here.

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    The young aspirant looked at the traitor. Not with desperation, nor with sadness. But with conviction. They both knew that the next clash was going to determine the battle.

    ''Alright then,'' the cloaked menace said. ''Let us be done with this!''

    Wingrall streched out his arm before him. He started to concentrate. He called his strength to him. Suddenly energy started to crackle in his palm, and dark lightning danced on his finger.

    ''Let the shadow of my soul aid the power of my own! Let it crush my hateful foe and let it bring me what Im owed! MIDNIGHTS LIGHT!''

    With the last words of the incantation said, a beam of darkness burst out of his hand. As if the night sky would come to deliver the final blow to his enemy. Still, he knew that his foe could dodge it, but it would exhaust him to do so. If he does, it will be but a strike to bring him down permanently. If he somehow doesn''t, well, then he would not be a problem anymore. For he was certain that the young aspirant could not stop his magic.

    That was where he miscalculated his foe''s strength for the first time.

    The young warrior made no effort to get out of the way of the attack. He stared right into it and stood firm. He stretched out his arm before him and let the beam crash into it. The impact pushed him back a few meters, but he stopped it. The wave could not do anything else but to overflow from the unmovable object that was now the warrior.

    Wingrall was shocked as he pushed harder and harder. He put all his mind into this attack. But his foe did not waver.

    ''What?!'' he cried out.

    ''You have counted on everything, Wingrall.'' The  squire said. ''Your strength. The villages weakness. Our suprise. Everything. Except one thing.'' He started to focus. His sword was burning with power in his hand. He decided to use it, but was  carefull to do so. ''Of how much I have been holding BACK!!!''

    With that, he struck out with his sword. It collided with the beam, and after a brief struggle between the two, the spell shattered! The recoil set Wingrall back with shock. How could his foe achieve something like this?

    The betrayed warrior did not give him much time to think, though. Where as the traitor needed a whole incantation for his spell, he only needed one word. Just one.

    ''Thundercloack!'' Suddenly, a bolt of lightning struck into him. But it was not hurting him. Instead, it started to whirl around him as an aura of sorts.

    He quickly jumped, rushing towards the betrayer with unbelievably fast speed to strike.

    Wingrall was a great warrior, so he managed to block the strike. But barely. He lost his balance by the sheer power of the attack.

    For the young aspirant, time moved slower. So slow that he got to see his foe''s shocked impression perfectly. For a split second, he considered ending him. He could have done so easily. Just for a second.

    With his next strike, he pushed the traitor''s blade out of the way. His opponent had no time or opportunity to react.

    Then he brought his blade overhead, and with a quick and powerful move, he brought it down on his opponent''s right arm, severing his shoulder from his body.Wingrall cried out in pain and agony as blood began to flow in mass from where his arm once was. He dropped to his knees, still screaming.The winner of the duel held out his blade, aiming it at the now-armed villain. With an exhale, he let the aura dissipate from around him. The fight was over.

    ''Yes!'' shouted the shattered-handed surviror. ''Good job! I know you could beat him! Now, quickly, finish this so he will be a threat no more.''

    The triumphant warrior stood in silence for a moment. He knew that killing Wingrall now would mean that he could not threaten the village or anyone ever again. He knew that after what he did, no one would judge him for it. Still, even after everything that happened today, he could not do it.

    ''No.'' Ha said softly.

    ''What do you mean, no?'' asked the survivor in disbelief. ''He''s still a threat, until he''s dead! You have to finish it!''

    The young warrior looked at his lost brother, strugling with his arm, which was still bleeding. He uttered another spell.

    ''Anathema!'' His sword burst up in flames. He simply put it against Wingrall''s wound, who screamed in agony. The smell of burning flesh filled his nose completely, even though it was but a minute until he finished. The wound was burnt shut.

    He then turned to the survivor.

    ''Tell me, what good would killing do? When mercy in this world is already so few.* Would it heal your arm or bring back our friend? No, it would make us no better than him. It would prove that mercilessly killing a helpless foe is the right way of the world. We need to be better than that. Than him.''

    He then turned to the defeated. He was still panting from the pain, but he refused to lose consciousness.

    ''Wingrall. You have committed crimes against our people by conspiring against them and killing our comrade. By the power invested in me by the village, I hereby banish you from now on. You may not set foot or keep contact with anyone from our settlement ever again. Should you return, well, we will have to resort to more permanent solutions. Now go and do not return!''

    Every word the judge of the situation said was like a knife in the heart for him. But he had to say it. Wingrall could hardly stand up. He looked at the one who bested him. In his eyes, there was no trace of the brotherhood they once held. Only the hate was there. He then turned around, and slowly, he vanished within the woods. The young warrior looked as he disappeared. Deep down, he still hoped that one day his brother would return to him. To heal their friendship even after this.

    How could he have known? How could he hear the screams that were to come? Or feel the heat and smell the burning of the flesh of not one but dozens? How could he have foreseen what is to come?

 The truest mercy- Part 4

    As he snapped back to the present with this memory within his heart, the two mentors were still arguing on the best course of action. All the while, the cultist was on his knees with a begging expression, covering before the warriors.

    ''Spare me,'' it said repeatedly. ''Spare me please!''

    The man had enough. He knew what he had to do. And this time he wanted to make an example.

    ''Why?'' he asked the cultist, drawing everyone''s attention to him. ''So you can trap the next group of travelers in this part of the woods? No, you wouldn''t spare us.'' He drew out his sword. Black veins crawled up his forearms, but quickly running back to the blade.

    ''I made a mistake like this, and it has cost people''s lives. I will not take the risk of it happening twice!''

    With that, he kicked the cultist in the chest, making it fall to its back. Then, with a swift slash of his weapon, he cut down one of its arms.

    The cultist started to scream with agony as blood flowed from the wound like a river. The others were shocked. They half expected him to behead the creature, but this was different.

    Scythian was the only one who could speak.

    ''What are you doing?!''

    ''Cutting its limbs!'' the wandered overshouted the cultists screams. ''Im ending this now!''

    He then slashed again, severing a leg. And again. And again. Until all that remained of the cultist was a bleeding torso. It did not even have the strength to scream its pain away anymore.

    With his deed finished, he sheated his sword and walked away from his victim. The others stood in shock and in silence.

    Wolf drew his mallet. He readied himself to finish the job.

    ''No,'' the traveler said, as he looked at the one who trapped them with despise. ''Leave its body at the side of the forest. Let it bleed out.''

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    The master of battle turned to the swordsman.

    ''Woa there. Im all about to kill this filth, but this... this is too ruthless. Even for me.''

    He turned back to his mentor.

    ''Fine. If you want to finish it, go ahead. But I would take a look at its chest first.''

    Puzzled, both of their mentors examined the living torso. They did not understand what their pupil could mean. Not until they saw a soft glow on a symbol in its chest.

    ''A rune!'' said the old scholar.

    ''One final surprise.'' the man aggreed.

    Hesitantly, the group backed away from it. Scythian asked the warrior.

    ''Could you not at least burn it with magic? Like the webs. Please, even it deserves that much. We don''t even know if it joined the cult willfully!''

    The man decided that this was enough. And without consideration, he started to walk in the way of the city, which they saw in the distance.

    ''If you want to do it, do it yourself. Maybe I could, but it wasted enough of my time and energy already. Not mentioning what other traps he had conjured up. You two have taught me a lot since we first met. Now here''s a teaching from me, which was hard for me to learn. Ruthlessnes is mercy upon ourselves.''*

    With that, the company continued their way to the next settlement.

    Back then.

    Wingrall could barely walk straight. He had to support himself tree by tree, just to not fall over. He was disgraced. Banished. Alone. And the only thing on his mind was one thing. Vengeance.

    ''You look like you could use a hand.'' a voice chuckled.

    Wingrall quickly looked around to see who was speaking to him. He then saw a robed figure to his left. He could not work out much of him, but one thing was certain. He was a mage.

    ''Who are you?'' the humiliated brute asked.

    ''Just a spectator.'' answered the mage. ''I happened to overhear what transpired on that field. I have a proposal for you. Help me achieve what I want. And in return, you will get all that you desire. Your own fiefdom, soldiers, and most of all, Your revenge. All I ask is your servitude.''

    Wingrall thought for a moment. He was not a servant to anyone. He also knew that in his position, he would not live long. But most of all, the lone mage offered him vengeance. It was an opportunity worth listening to at least.

    ''Im all ears.'' came his answer.

    The mage was pleased.

 Old foes might- Part 1

    The group arrived in the city. At first, they did not saw anything out of the ordinary. The town''s walls were high and built strong, ensuring its citizens safety for a long time now, no doubt. However, they were in good condition, meaning they did not see any fighting for a while now. Not surprising, given that Paxfort was far away from the borders. Before any enemy army would reach it, they have to go through at least a dozen more fortifications. They passed the open gates, the first odd thing they noticed was that there were no guards.

    ''Tch. They probably slacking off somewhere. Getting drunk. Not a bad plan for us either,'' said Wolf.

    The man did not answer. Originally, he only wanted to refill the supplies they used up in the forest. Maybe spend a quiet night there in real beds. But something was of. The air felt different. It felt... heavy. Full of despair. It reminded him to... ''No,'' he thought. ''You''re just imagining things.''

    But as they went further, things got all the more out of the ordinary. There was no one in the streets. No child''s playing. No shops open. Not even the usual "who are these people?" looks from the windows, which the company got used to. Also, it was quiet. Earfully quiet. No news being told by messengers. No house debates about someone not taking out the trash. No music from the taverns. As if the whole city became a ghost town.

    ''What is going on here?'' Scythian asked. ''Where are the people? Even at this time ?, there should be life in this place!''

    ''Oh, they are here alright,'' the veteran replied. ''Look.''

    ''Peeping into other people''s house? What are you, a common thief?'' asked the old spearman.

    ''Just look, you bonebag.''

    After a little hesitation, the old squire complied and looked into the window. The wanderer followed suit.

    Inside there was a dining room. With a table in the middle, around it were four chairs. They had a fireplace in the left corner, with all kinds of kitchen equipment hanging from the walls. There were stairs leading upwards, and at the base of the stairs, there was a woman in a blue dress with light brown hair. Judging from what she was wearing, she must have gotten ready to go to the local market.

    But all she was doing was sitting. With tears in her eyes. Her eyes, which reflected only emptiness. On her face, despair and hopelessness. Without any effort to change anything.

    The traveler backed up from the window, shocked at what he saw.

    ''No...'' he said. He could not believe it. It could not be him.

    ''Whats wrong, lad?'' asked his old mentor.

    But he did not answer. He just ran in the direction of the town square. For he saw the silhouette of a man there. His guides followed; they did not understand what was happening. Suddenly the man stopped, as he was frozen where he stood.

    When the others caught up to him, they started to realize whats happening.

    In the square, there were most of the people of the city. All of them stood still. All of them were lost in thought. All of them in despair. It was like some twisted art exhibition, where the only emotion was sadness and hopelessness. At the far end of it, there was a robbed man on a stage chanting while holding a glowing amulet.

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    ''That fiend!'' said Scythian in anger. ''It''s a mages ritual! He''s syphoning the negative energy from these people! While inducing bad thoughts in them! The reason why we are not affected is that he''s concentrating too hard on the ritual, thus he could not notice us arrive!''

    ''Bastard!'' agreed Wolf. ''But that''s his mistake. Here''s the plan: we go around, sneak from behind, break his concentration, and then, while he''s surprised, we finish him. Then we collect the reward and the fame. What do you say, boy?''

    The man did not answer. All he could see was him. Him who claimed everything from these people just as he did back then. Him who destroyed everything he once held dear. Him who is the reason for his nightmares.

    Suddenly he drew out his sword. And let out a scream. A scream so outwordly that it was almost earshattering. A name, which he remembered and the one he sought to destroy.

    ''NAAAAZREEEEM!''

    The black vines appeared once more. Except this time they not simply crawled upon the man''s arm but erupted from the blade, stretching to every direction possible, before turning back and engulfing him, sourrounding him like armor.

    Scythian and Wolf had no time to say a single thing. They could simply watch the transformation happen.

    Then suddenly, with a speed that would put the old squire to shame, he jolted out towards his target. Striking with his blade.

    Nazrem had but mere seconds to react. He raised his hands up, creating a protective shield between him and his assailant.

    ''Wha-'' he could not even finish the question as the strike colided with the shield. The impact sent both of them flying back, with the mage colliding with a wall of a nearby building.

    The people on the square suddenly got back to reality. With the spell broken, they started running in fear, trying to get away from the square, which has been turned into a battlefield. The furious warrior landed on his feet, and after a momentary dizziness, he got up. He knew that the mage lived. Yet. Nazrem got to his feet as well. His robbes have been changed, however. He now had light battle armor with dark pauldrons and a red cape. His helmetless head stood out. He had a few strains of red hair on the side of his head, but the top was bald. He looked at the enraged travelers.

    ''So, it was you who I felt a few days ago. Impressive display. Tell me, who are you?''

    The man simply readied his blade for another strike. He let out a chuckle.

    ''I will tell you. After you lie dying at my feet!''

    With that, he charged again.

    The mentors stood by the sidelines, trying to work out from a safe place behind a wall where their pupil was in the fleeing crowd.

    ''Dammit, I can''t see him anywhere,'' said Wolf.

    ''Come on, we have to find him.''

    Scythian put a hand on the veteran''s shoulder.

    ''No, we don''t. We have to help these people to safety.''

    The warmaster shrugged of the spearman''s hand.

    ''Are you insane?! He completely lost himself in there, fighting a mage alone! I don''t know anything about magic, but even I can comprehend that with his limited abilities, he stands no chance against a foe like this!''

    ''I don''t think that he''s as lost in his rage as you think. Look at the crowd. They are only fleeing in one direction. Towards us.''

    The master of battle stopped for a moment and took a deeper look. What the old fighter said was true. The crowd only fled in this direction; the dust from the first impact was way behind the end of the flood of the people.

    ''He put distance between himself and the innocent,'' said Wolf grudgingly. ''Clever. Still, he needs our help.''

    ''And we will help,'' aggreed Scythian. ''But he clearly wants these people safe. For now, this is his fight.''

    Wolf thought for a moment. He did not like the idea to leave the man behind. But he must respect his wish to fight alone. He nodded to the old squire. With one last look back, they started to help the remaining guard evacuate the people of Paxfort.

 Old foes might- Part 2

    Meanwhile, the raging beast charged again. This time the mage was ready, raising a shield and holding it strong. The impact still sent shockwaves through the city as Anger was pushing against the magical barrier, creating sparks at its point of contact. Suddenly Nazrem released the shield and dodged to the side, while the sword came down to the ground. From the flank, the mage launched an attack. The shadow blast sent the all-black warrior to the building next to them. But he was far from beaten. He jumped back up immediately.

    ''Tricks won''t save you,'' said the swordsman. The blast took a chunck of armor from his side. ''Do you hear the howling across the land? It''s Baskerville''s hound coming for your head!''

    Part of the dark vines parted from his body, charging at Nazrem. In their path, they shaped themselves into a form, resembling a big black hound. A roar could be heard as the beast jumped at the mage, jaws open wide!

    It got him! Biting down on his throat, rendering him to the ground as the monster enjoyed its prey. Or would have. For the warrior was no fool. He knew that his old foe wouldn''t go down this easy. And in a moment of clarity, he noticed something. There was no blood flowing from the body.

    Suddenly the illusion disappeared. And the real Nazrem walked forward from behind the stage. Wondering.

    ''Interesting. You are way stronger than I have imagined. It seems that this state of yours boosts your natural ability far beyond its limits. You might make a good,'' he stopped for a moment, looking for the right word. ''Well, not an ally, but maybe a pet?''

    The man called back the dog, merging with it once again.

    ''Im not your pet. I AM YOUR DEATH!'' he charged once more.

    ''A pity,'' Nazrem said. ''Thypoons blaze!''

    Fire erupted from his hand. Bigger than any fire ever seen. The pyre engulfed not just the charging warrior but a good portion of the square as well. Wood burned to ash as the fire touched it. Stone''s began to heat up, almost turning into magma just from the sheer heat of the spell.

    ''I''m truly sorry I had to do this,'' the mage said; his voice was almost playful. ''I was really curious who you might be.''

    But then something jumped out of the pyre of fire, so far up that the sorcerer almost could not see it.

    The man, by stretching his arm, commanded the vines to strike down on his foe, and they obeyed! Black vines of pure hatred came down on the spellcaster down below, who barely avoided them. Then the warrior used the vines as a grapling hook and propelled himself towards his hated foe, bringing down his blade on him with an outwordly roar. The barrier took the impact again; the shockwave that was created shatterd the glasses of the windows all around them. But this time the shield shattered too, forcing Nazrem to his knees. As the man recovered, he said to the mage.

    ''Your fire''s did not work then; they won''t work on me now!''

    Another strike was made, but this time the warmage pushed away the blade with psychic might and with an astral morningstar smashed the man in the chest! Armour shattered, bones cracked, and blood spilled out at the place of the impact. The warrior staggered as the mage put distance between them. And he let out a laugh as the pieces came together in his mind.

    ''It''s you,'' he said with a big grin on his face. Finally, he had a real target. ''Wingral''s old playmate. The defender of lives. The squire of Sir Lionel. Ohoho. It''s such a shame your "brother" can''t be here right now. Tell me, how are the people of Facultatem?''

    Those words awakened something in the man. He could feel it in his heart. Something was gripping it. He brushed it aside, and with another roar, he attacked again. This time Nazrem moved with the blow. He dodged every strike with a smirk on his face. His amulet started to glow in a sinister light. Suddenly he jumped back, readying his next move; the traveler followed. The mage spoke again.

    ''Tell me, do you have companions here? Will you protect them as well as you did back then?''

    The raging warrior paid no heed to these words on the surface. He simply struck down on his foe, who parried the blow with his astral weapon.

    But inside, something stirred again. The grip became stronger, and his thoughts began to whirl. ''Can I beat him now? Can I protect these people? What if I fail? What if im...''

    He again brushed these thoughts aside.

    ''Your words only anger me!''

    He struck out again. But this time Nazrem could not dodge or block in time. While the strike did not reach him fully, it did reach his stomach and slashed him across...

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    And it did nothing. No blood, no wound.

    The swordsman stopped for a moment.

    ''ANOTHER ILLUSION!'' he cried out in rage.

    The battlemage just smiled.

    ''Oh no, I am the real one,'' he said. ''But tell me. Do you still hear them? Their screams?''

    The man gripped his sword harder but was not charging yet.

    ''Do you hear her scream?''

    The grip became ever stronger, almost unbearable. With a renewed devilish shout, the black-armored warrior struck again at Nazrem, who had jumped into the air, far far above the ground. The guilt-stricken warrior followed him.

    The mage knew that the spell was working; all he needed was to find the right words. One final push.

    But he underestimated the warrior. He quickly got up to him, readying the final blow, but the mage was quicker.

    ''You fought well, but your time has passed. Feel the grip of your past. Chains of guilt!''

    With the incantation, Nazrem summoned chains from below the ground. They shot upwards, laching them onto each of the man''s limbs. Then, with but a gesture, the sorcerer made the chains pull him down. He plumeted faster and faster to the ground. He tried to break the chains, but they were too strong. He braced for the impact. He came down with such force, like a boulder lunched from a mountain to the depths below.

    Dust and rubble flown all over the once beautiful square. Once it settled, the crater created by the collision became visible. In the center there was the beaten warrior. He still tried to break free of his chains. Not ready to give in to the grip of his heart. Not going to surrender. He was going to prove it...

    Nazrem got back to the ground with a feeling of victory.

    ''Well, well, well,'' he started to speak in a high voice. ''Looks like once again it is proven. Once again, you could not stop me. But you knew that, did you not? No, you did not. After all, you tried to slay me with anger and rage! But led by that, you could never truly hurt me. Anger can never slay me. Once again, you have proven to me and yourself that despite all your power, You are just not good enough.''

    Those words finished the onslaught on the man''s heart. The grip finally broke it. The black armor has faded away. The vines got back to the blade, which he let fall from his hand to the ground. His regular armor upper parts were smashed during the battle and in the crash. So he just laid there. Broken in mind and body. There was no rage anymore. Just sadness.

    ''Ha, it still works like a charm,'' exclaimed the triumphant mage. With a snapp, he made the chains disappear. They were not needed anymore. ''I have to say, at the beginning of our fight right there, you had me going for a minute. It''s hard to fight against someone when I''m not concentrating or they block me out of their mind. Though it wasn''t conscious in your case. At least your anger helped you that much. Regardless, it seems that you did not improve much since our last meeting. By Tartarus, I would even say that you got a bit weaker. And you have forgotten about this,'' he said, showing his amulet to the man''s face. ''This made me more powerful than ever! Still, I can''t let you live. You could become... troublesome later. And we can''t have that now, can we?''

    The man looked up to his foe with tears in his eyes.

    ''Just do it, you bastard!'' he said with a broken voice.

    ''As you wish,'' smiled the victor. But before he could do that, a deep, reggel voice interrupted.

    ''Not so fast!''

    The source of the voice came down to strike from the air. It was Wolf, and he brought down his mallet upon the mage. Nazrem quickly dodged it. Than without wasting a second, the veteran charged at him, striking from the side. But he was already too late. Nazrem grabbed the amulet and looked into him, avoiding the strike once again.

    ''That is all you are, right? A brute who only can fight and drink. No point in your life at all!''

    Wolf could feel the grip on his heart as well, making it heavier than his mallet. The warmage casts a telekinetic wave against him, pushing him away and crashing at the side of the creator. He did not get up.

    Than the sorcerer made a small, tipping gesture backwards. Stopping Scythians spearstrike in its tratracks.The old fighter struggled to get his weapon free but was unable to move it.

    ''Tell me, which was worse? Your failure to Gallahad or your failure to your own son?''

    The old spearman froze in place as the grip settled inside of him. Nazrem turned around with a smile. Then he cast ''Midnights Light'' against the once-squire, knocking him out completely.

    The man looked at the events unfolding helplessly. He tried to get up but found that he was unnable too. His grief was too much.

    ''So these must be your new companions, eh?'' asked Nazrem.  Then a sinister grin appeared on his face. ''Why won''t we play with them first?''

    He approached the unconscious Scythian.

    The beaten warrior was suddenly hit with the memories of the past. The burning village, the screams of the people.

    ''No!'' he shouted, gathering all his remaining might into one final spell. ''Judgement of the God King!''

    He hurled a great beam of lightning and thunder against the mage, aiming to at least set him back.

    But it was no use. Nazrem simply gestured away the blast.

    ''Please, we have been over this,'' he said with a sigh. ''You are really tiresome. No matter. Killing you and your friend will bring me great...'' he suddenly stopped. His face changed, from triumph and victorious grin to tiredness and...

    ''Hollow?'' he asked himself.

    He looked around, and at the edge of the crater he saw it. The shadow that came to life. Looking like the deafeated warrior stretching his arm out towards the spellcaster. The Hollow was fighting against Nazrem.

    ''You have a Hollow latched to you,'' he said in an emotionless voice. ''Youre more pathetic than I thought.''

    The mage thought for a moment. While the creature did not make any physical move, with the warrior''s current state, he knew that killing it would require too much energy and time. So he simply said.

    ''I think I was wrong. You will not be troublesome for long now. The creature will claim you as its prey soon enough. Let it have you.''

    With that, he faded away as a black mist, flying away with the wind. The warrior was confused. Why did the Hollow save them? Why?

    The pain and fatigue started to claim him as he lost touch with reality. He started to close his eyes, the grip on his heart staying strong. As he closed his eyes, he saw the creature fading away and the guard coming to their aid. His final thoughts stuck with him though.

    ''Im sorry everyone. I was just not good enough.''

 We are still here

    The man awoke. He sprung up in a bed, like he was still on the battlefield.

    ''Nazrem!'' he cried out. But the sudden pain in his chest snapped him back to reality. With a pained grunt, he laid back to his place and looked around. There were other beds beside his, all with white sheets. Some were occupied with other ill men and women. He realized that he was in a hospital of sorts. With a closer look, he also noticed that the other patients had only light injuries. Though most of them were unconscious. Their soul was ravaged by the sorcerer, no doubt.

    With sadness in his heart, he tried to get up again. The pain was almost unbearable; he grunted as he brought himself up, but he needed to get through it. He needed to find his comrades.

    ''Hey, take it easy,'' said a familiar, rough voice.

    Wolf walked up to him. The veteran helped him to sit up as gently as he could.

    ''Wolf!'' he grunted, relieved that his mentor is okay. ''Thank God you are here. Are you alright? What happened to Scythian?'' After a little pause, he also asked. ''What happened to Nazrem?''

    Wolf looked at him, with sadness in his eyes. Whatever the mage told him still lurked in his thoughts.

    ''That menace is gone, though I''m not sure if he was beaten or just bored. He left the city after he beat us and did not return.'' In his mind, the swordsman remembered the picture of the Hollow''s intervention. He could not see the creature, but he knew that it wasn''t far away. The master of battle continued.

    ''As for Scythian, he lives as well. He is currently taking a walk on the balcony. There are gardens there. He is relatively unscathed physically, just like me. But he is upset by what the sorcerer told him, whatever it is.'' His look hardened, and he went on. ''What were you thinking? Taking on a powerful mage head on? I know you can use some spells now, but you are not invincible! You endangered all of us just because of whatever history you have with him! You lost yourself completely in your rage again!''

    The man replied quickly.

    ''Not completely,'' he said. With a sigh, he explained. ''In the forest, I used my will to guide my anger. To fuel me so I could access my powers again. This time, however, it was the other way around. My anger led, but my will followed. I wanted to attack him. I wanted to see him suffer. To crumble him to the dust and scatter him through the wind!''

    For a second, rage fueled his mind again.But in a second, he reminded himself that the mage is gone. And he calmed down.

    The warmaster then continued.

    ''I see. Still, it was reckless! It is clear that you are not ready for a battle like this,'' he saw his student lower his head at the realization. So he added. ''Yet.''

    The man looked at him confused.

    ''You might not have been able to win this time, but you have shown great potential for it! The power you yielded and the way you fought were outstanding. From now on, we are not just going to travel together. We are going to train for battle! So the next time we meet this freak, we can put an end to him!''

    The wanderer did not believe his ears. He sprung up from his seat.

    ''Next time?!'' he asked furiously. ''If you failed to notice, we almost died! If it were not for the creature, the sorcerer would have cut us down like animals! Not just that, but look at these people! They are here because I started a fight I could not win. There is no next time here, Wolf. Maybe not even for our journey, but definitely not for another fight with Nazrem.''

    The veteran was driven back by this reaction. Not from the words, but from the warriors eyes. There was so much hopelessness and fatigue in them. He never saw his companion like this. And this time he was sure that it was not a spell.

    ''Am I the one who fails to notice things here?'' the warmaster asked. ''You say that we are only alive because our foe was interrupted. These people can say the same! Sure, they are wounded, but they live. What would have happened if you hadn''t even tried to stop him? I''ll tell you. This city would be in flames! Sure, there are losses, but you did make a-''

    ''WHAT ABOUT MY LOSS??'' the ranger shouted. Those patients who were conscious turned their attention to the pair. But the man did not care anymore. Instead, he turned to his interrupted mentor.

    ''How many battles do I have to fight? How many wounds do I have to bear? How many loved ones do I have to see perish before me? How many roads do I have to travel until I get to the treasure, which may or may not even exist? How long do I have to fight for before I can finally rest? Im... I am tired, Wolf. I am not sure if I want to fight anymore.''

    At the end of his speech, the man stood still. He let out all of his troubling thoughts. He wanted to cry, to collapse to the floor, but he could not. Something inside did not let him. His mentor helped him, punching him in the face and sending him to the ground. The sudden shock snapped the traveler out of his despair. The veteran started to speak.

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    ''You want to give up now?! Throwing everything that we did, that YOU did, out of the window?! Fine! Have it your way! Go, live, and die however you see fit! Who am I to try to stop you?'' The battlemaster turned to leave, but he stopped for a moment. But the wanderer was not the only one who was upset after the fight. With a big sigh he added.

    ''I dont know if you heard it or not, but what the mage said was true. I am nothing more than brute. All I know is how to fight, drink, and repeat. That''s all I ever was, all I ever cared. All everyone could see me for. Except for you. So when you came to that tavern, I just thought that maybe I could be more. Maybe I could be a mentor. Maybe by helping you to your goal, I could prove to myself that I can do more than split heads and slowly drink my life away. That is the real reason I joined your quest.'' He turned back to his student on the floor. ''In the forest, me and that old bonerack told you that we believe in you. I still do. So decide. Will you be that man who got us out of that place and who fought against the odds in this city, or the scared boy you present now? I will stick around for a few days for the answer.''

    With that, he left. Leaving the traveler with his thoughts.

    After a while, the man started looking for Scythian. But before he could find him, he was found by the mayor of Paxfort. From him, the traveler learned that he was unconscious for 3 days straight, while his companions were not. During this time the mayor talked with Scythian, and as a reward they would not just give them all the supplies they needed, but they forged new armor for him as well. At first the traveler refused. He lost the fight; he certainly was not worthy of such gifts, but the leader of the city was insistent. In the end he gave in, as he needed something to go around in, and the armor sounded far better than some rug. In looks, it did not differ much from the previous one (a touch of Scythian no doubt), but it had more plates, covering his entire body. All the while being somehow lighter than the one before. Its handgrips, upper hands, and leg part had little spikes on them, useful for drawing blades away from cutting his limbs. Also, it had a detachable cloack, light green, just as his own raincoat. It was definitely a masterpiece. After he changed into it, he thanked the mayor for his kindness but asked that they hold no feast for them. Instead, he asked that they use that effort for rebuilding the town.

    After that, he finally found his old mentor in the balcony of the hospital. When the old spearman noticed him, he had a smile of relief on his face. And concerns in his eyes.

    ''Oh my lad, is it good to see you walking again! How do you feel? I see that the mayor found you with his gift. I gave them some advice; I hope you like it.''

    The man smiled. They walked up to the windows, from which they could see the city at large.

    ''Im fine. And yes, I had to accept this. They wouldn''t let me go until I did. But it is a good armour. So thank you. Though...,'' he stopped for a moment. ''I might not have much use of it. Have you spoken to Wolf?''

    Scythian''s face soured a little.

    ''Yes, I have. He told me of your little fight too.''

    Then, the man told his old mentor his thoughts. His fatigue, his hopelessness, everything. For a while, there was silence between them. Then the old squirrel started to talk.

    ''You know, the sorcerer wasn''t wrong. I did fail my son. I should have been there for him, but I was too busy with being a squire to the knights. Not realizing what is becoming of him and the other townsfolk. I was so caught up with my own goals that I was not there for my own son! And in the end, I failed both Gallahad and him. I lost it all,'' the old spearman stopped for a moment, trying to get himself together. ''That is why, when I met you, I thought that maybe this is my chance to make it right. Maybe I can be there for you and prevent that the same fate to fall upon you. To at least try to make it right, to help another soul. But I understand if you feel like that it is not for you anymore.''

    He looked at the buildings.

    ''You know, you could have a good life here. I think many people would offer a job for you. You could have a cozy little house, friends, maybe even a family. There is honor in a simple life, and if it feels right for you, then you should take this chance.''

    The wanderer sighed. What his friend said was true. Paxfort would be a good place to settle down. However.

    ''And whats then, Scythian?'' he asked.  ''Be an everyday folk, living the same day by day by day? What you say is intriguing, but would I be happy? Would that still be me? I started this journey because I knew that my life back then could not stay the same. If I stop now, could I live with myself? Or I would poison my days thinking about "what would have happened if I continued?" or "was my goal really that far away, or I just gave up too early?" The thing is, while I am tired and scared of what can happen tomorrow, I am also scared of what happens if I dont even try to find it out. After all, who am I without this goal?''

    Scythian listened. For the first time in a while, he did not have an answer right away. Nor did he have to. These questions were for his pupil to answer.

    ''I understand your struggle. You are at an important crossroads now. Take your time with figuring it out. But know this: whatever you choose, whatever your final verdict, I will support you. Because I still believe in you, lad. And I know you will make the right call.''

    With that, Scythian left. Leaving the man alone with his thoughts.

    The wanderer was on the balcony for a long time. After a while, he was alone with the view. Or almost alone. The Hollow was there also.

    Its prey was down. Alone. Desperate. Lost. It walked closer to the man. Closer. Closer. Until it was...

    Right beside him. It looked out of the window to the city. Then to the traveler. They stood there for a long while. The sun was starting to set, covering everything in a golden light.

    Finally, it spoke.

    ''We should go,'' it said.

    The warrior looked at it.

    ''Where? To do what? Do you know what option I should choose? To stay here or to go? Or do you finally have an answer? Do you know now what would fulfill you? Do you know where the treasure is? Do you know what tomorrow holds?''

    There was silence. Than, the answer.

    ''I don''t know.''

    The man cuffed. But then it spoke again.

    ''Exciting, is it not?''

    The man was surprised for a moment. He thought about these words. With a simple smile, he nodded at the creature.

    They then rejoined with his mentors. Wolf and Scythian were waiting for the choice their student would make in front of the hospital.

    When the man joined them, he had one final question for the day.

    ''Who wants to eat?''

    With that, he headed to the city. The guides looked at each other and laughed, joining the traveler.

    He did not know the answers. He knew that his and Nazrem''s paths would meet again, however. And he knew that he would have to travel a long way until his goal.

    But he knew that no matter what happened, he was still here. And that he will fight on.

 Ice shard

    They left the city behind for five days now. For once, they had peaceful travels. No bandits, no monsters. Just the road and distance to cover. During the days, the man always made some time to train. He wanted to get back his strength and learn to control his magic.

    But the nights were different. As serene as the days went by, the nights were haunting. For Nazrem, words still lingered in his ears:

    ''Do you hear her screams?''

    The man knew exactly what the mage meant. Ever since then, he heard those screams every night. He saw her face just as it was back then. Those eyes, that hair, that face...

    Still, why did it leave this much of an impact? That "love" was always onesided. She never felt the same. He always knew that deep down, even if he often denied it and pretended that she just needed some time. That one day she will love him, and they will be together. Because sometimes she did give signs of that. A word of appreciation, a touch, a hug. All in the right time, when he felt that it was pointless to try anymore. And then the cycle started again and again.

    Looking back, of course, he realized that she was never interested in him. He was only a substitute, a plaything for attention. She never had any feelings for him, but he was useful in making her feel special. Even so, he could not hate her. He played right into her hand; of course he was used.

    But still, deep down, he still thought that maybe a day would have come when he would be recognized for his actions. He still craves that feeling, but not necessarily from her. He still wanted to be loved, but by whom was not so clear. On the sixth night, he decided to get to the bottom of this, where it all started. In his dreams.

    He knew of a small ritual, which allowed the performer to dreamwalk for a short time.

    Fortunately, the plains where they were had the kind of herbs he needed. At night he burned them, and inhaling their essence, he focused on what he wanted to find. And he fell asleep.

    There was nothing, but the white nothingness. Every way he looked, only the never ending white landscape was there. And the cold. So cold. Icy winds carried it through the entirety of this place of the soul. Soon he saw its source. It would have been impossible not to. There was a statue, seemingly carved from ice. It depicted a woman, but its form changed a little from every angle he looked at it. All depicted a different girl, all of whom he knew. And beside the statue. There was himself, grabbing onto it. This version was a little younger, a few years maybe. His legs were frozen in place, his face biten by the frost. Still, he held the statue''s hand like his life depended on it.

    ''Let it go!'' he shouted to his other. But the distance was too great.

    He took a step closer, but then a stronger current of the wind hit him. With it, multiple glimpses of memories appeared vaguely in the nothingness. Instances of gift giving, of overstretching himself, of abbandoning his goals for these persons. All of them at once.

    It was overwhelming, so he drew out his sword. He noticed that unlike in the outside, it was easier to control. For in his mind, he had perfect control of it.

    ''Anathema!'' The sword lit up with flames with such blaze, it created a barrier around him. He still felt the icy winds, but now he could move forward. Step by step. The younger one did not seem to show any interest in him whatsoever. He just stared at the statue.

    ''LET IT GO!'' The traveler shouted once more, louder than before. ''It is not what you seek!''

    Another blast of the wind struck. He braced against it, but this time the memories came clearer.

    He saw a girl, her hair blond, her eyes blue. She was young. When he first saw her, he became determined to impress her and to talk to her. But she was never interested in him. Whenever he tried to start a conversation with her or to spend a few minutes with her in the schoolyard, she was cold. Only answering in a few words before getting out of the situation. He even tried to write letters to her; after all, maybe the publicity was the problem, when it was not. He just could not accept that she was not interested in having any relation to him. Only after too many walls and too much time did he realize this fact and stop. Too much time and effort went to a person who did not deserve it. Back then, it became an important lesson, even if he did not fully learn it in that moment.

    In the present, another realization hit him. Those screams in his nightmares and the state of this place could only mean one thing.

    ''It''s not just about her; it''s about all of them,'' he said to himself. He finally understood why she stuck with him. He yelled once more to his inner self. ''BREAK IT DOWN! IT IS JUST AN OBSTACLE!''

    Again, the young one did not answer, but he shifted his head. With this progress, the wanderer continued in the storm. He was halfway there when the next blow of wind hit him.

    This time, it was a love fulfilled. A love lived. A love that could not work, still they tried.

    The girl was living in a different village, a decent distance away from him. Still, he always made time to travel to her. It did not matter if something else interested him, like time with friends, family, or even training. All was cast aside. When they were together, everything seemed brighter; everything was alright. For the first time, he felt love and was loved. But when they were not, thats when the problems started. They missed each other, but only he made an effort to go see her. Also, they did not have many things in common in them, aside from the fact that they were each other''s first partners. Looking back, none of them were mature enough for this kind of commitment. He wanted to rush things, while she was too scared to stand up for herself in front of her mother, who tried to end their relationship every way she could. In the end, both of them just got tired of the situation. So they parted ways. He needed to silence his heart for that decision. It was hard. Perhaps the  hardest thing he ever had to do. But he had to, none the less. He often wondered what would happen if they would cross paths again. Would the spark reignite? Would it be better? Would it be the same? An often occuring thought in his mind. Another lesson: just because you find someone you are happy with, it doesn''t mean she is the right one.

    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.For now, he silenced it again. He pushed forward, shouting still.

    ''SHATTER IT! IT IS NOT REAL!'' This time his younger self answered.

    ''W-What?''

    Finally, he was getting through to him. He relentlessly marched forward. He was in an arms reach when the stongest blow yet struck him.

    It was her. Abigail. Her red hair and blue eyes shined just as beautifully as ever. Her smile was so calming, so joyful, that all he ever wanted was to make it appear on her face. Glimpses of memories appeared. The long walks, the talks, the nightouts with drinking and looking to the stars. He trusted her fully and gave everything he could for her. They shared secrets, desires, states of mind, everything. Or so the man thought. The hard truth was that it was only him who was sincere. The connection he thought they had only existed in his mind. Looking back, it was only him who told her everything, only him who sought to spend time with her, only him who was trustworthy. Once, he caught her sharing his secrets with other girls of the town. He did not talk to her for a week, but in the end he forgave her. He always did. Another time, maybe the most honest moment of hers, she admitted that she liked that other people thought that they were a couple, even though she had no intention to be with him that way. That deeply sorrowed the traveler. He was so certain that he made progress... That was the wake-up call he needed. He planned on severing any ties they had. But he could not bring himself to do it right away. After all, love is irrational. Even with every wrong doing being so clear to him, he still loved her. He wanted to talk things through with her in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, he would get a chance. In the end, he did not get even then. For she perished by Nazrem''s hands. The hope, however, did not. It was still in him. He finally reached himself and the statue.

    ''You have to destroy it! Can''t you see? This statue is not your love. It''s the idea of it! We crave to be loved, to someone finally recognize us, to choose us! We want someone to come and save us from this loneliness! But by constantly searching for this approval, we are frozen in place. Committing the same mistakes over and over again. We have to realize that there is no one "made" for us. To stand strong together with someone, we have to stand strong alone first. If we don''t know who we are or what we are seeking, we will remain vulnerable for tricks and to be used! This isn''t a romantic story, nor a fairy tale! This is real life! Let go of this not existing picture and be free of the search!''

    The younger one looked at him and asked.

    ''But if I don''t find her, how will I feel this warm? I don''t want to be alone, left in the cold. If I don''t find her, am I good enough? If I don''t find her, who will save me?''

    The storm got ever stronger; it almost broke through the barrier he created. How could he free himself from these doubts?

    ''You feel cold because you gave all of your warmth to them! So much time and effort given to those who did not need it nor care for it! You are not alone! You have comrades; you have yourself! And,'' he stopped for a moment. ''Don''t you want a partner, an equal relationship? A person who you are there for each other, no matter what? Or do you want to be the one who is taken care of and to feel like you are the lesser? Do you really want to play someone else''s games all your life? To be defined by their opinion of you? Or do you want to play by your rules? The choice is yours.''

    With that, he tossed his sword to the feet of his inner self and let the storm freeze him. He could feel the ice as it crawled up on his legs, his chest, and his neck, but he did not care. He focused on his other half until it was done.

    The younger one thought for a moment about the words of the man. He slowly picked up the sword. He stared at the statue for a little.

    For the last time.

    For he struck with the blade, shattering it to a thousand pieces. The moment the idol fell down, all of the heat was released from it, warming up the nothingness and freeing the wanderer from his icy prison. He looked at the younger form of his, who, with tears in his eyes, asked.

    ''Will we find our person one day?''

    ''Maybe,'' said the man. ''But even if we don''t, this warmth will not leave us. We have given it to many people over the years. Except for ourselves. So, no more "what if" or "what could have been." It is time to stop chasing a savior and focus on what is real: our goals, our fights, and all that we need to resolve. If we are done with all that, then we may find our partner. And when we are done, we will not need a false idol again.''

    The young one noticed something on the ground.

    ''Look. We missed something.''

    It was a shard of the statue. An ice shard, which resisted the heat, refusing to melt.

    They stared at it.

    ''Don''t worry, I will finish it,'' said the inner self.

    ''No,'' said the dreamwalker. ''Let it be a reminder for giving up the chase. Plus, its quite pretty. Maybe one day the right person will come, and it will be a fine gift for her.''

    That is when the dream faded away.

    The man woke up at their camp. The sun broke through the brenches of the trees above. He sat up, searching his feelings.

    ''Finally, you''re awake,'' Wolf greeted him. ''You were talking in your sleep. Did you have a nightmare?''

    The warrior smiled, searching his feelings. He felt warm inside.

    ''There''s nothing left but the ice shard,'' he whispered.

    The two mentors looked at him puzzled.

    ''What are you talking about, lad?'' Scythian asked.

    The traveler shrugged his head.

    ''Come, let''s pack up. I''ll explain it on the way.''

 Wonders of the road

    Scythian was so excited, he was basically running in front of the group. Despite his old age, the rest of them could hardly keep up with him.

    ''Where is that bozo leading us now?'' Wolf asked while panting.

    The man wished he could answer, but he had no idea what''s gotten into his old mentor. They were looking at the map when Scythian said,

    ''Oh, I know this place! Come, I show you all something truly wonderful!'' And then he barged off in the direction of a hill. They went after him, but any question they asked him, such as what it is he wants to show them or why it cannot wait until the next morning (as it was getting quite late), resulted in zero answers, other than,

    ''You shall see when we are there! Wouldn''t want to ruin the surprise!'' So they marched on.

    ''Something wonderful,'' that''s what Scythian said. Somehow, the wanderer doubted that it could be true. Who would blame him? After all, recently life has been full of hardships and inconvenience.

    They had left Paxfort on a carriage, offered by a traveling merchant who was headed the same way as they were. Of course for a good price, but it was a nice change, not having to tire themselves with walking. That is until the carriage broke down in the middle of nowhere. They tried to fix it up, but none of them was an expert. Eventually they got it running again, but only until the next town, where it gave up on them again. They were only about a quarter of the way they planned to travel with it, but they had no choice. They parted ways with the merchant and continued on by foot.

    Then came the nightmares, which he had to deal with, although it came with a sort of relief. Still, it was hard to sleep because of them. That, of course, led to a problem where he was tired all the time. Between the walking, the new training schedule set up by Wolf and Scythian (with the goal in mind to get better control over his power), and not sleeping that well, he became easily irritated, sometimes downright unbearable. Of course it made it harder to work on his problems and to improve the way he wanted to. That just added to the frustration. Feeling he was behind was a nagging concern, despite reminding himself that, he makes good progress and to be patient with himself. Once the nightmares stopped, it got a little easier, but he still did not get much chance for relaxation.

    Money was another problem altogether. Despite having a good amount of savings with them, in every town, every turn they spent more than it would be sustainable. A good portion of it was spent on the wagon, and of course the merchant refused to give them back the money they gave for the full trip. Without much income to speak of (mainly from small tasks, like delivering letters between towns or scaring off bandits), they had to portion it carefully. Luckily they could save up on the food supplies by hunting and using water from rivers. Still, it was a thing to look out for and another thing to be bothered by.

    At least these instances gave him the opportunity to practice control over his anger. Whenever they were training, Wolf purposely pissed him off so he would draw out his sword and then get it under control. Under these circumstances, they might have just skipped the part to get him angry. The first few times were easy, but as the way went on, it became harder. Progress was made, however. With some techniques taught by the Scythian and with a sparring partner like the warmaster, day by day he got stronger. His swordsmanship improved, and his fighting style got more refined. These improvements went unnoticed by him, but not by his mentors. They knew that slowly, but surely, he became a force to be reckoned with. They only wished that the swordsman would give some credit to himself for it.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    Night has fallen down on them, and Scythian was lost to sight. They made their way between the tree roots and the undergrowth of the forest. Wolf and the wanderer could only hope that they were going in the right direction, for not even the moon could penetrate the canopy of the trees above.

    ''Dammit all!'' the veteran said angrily. ''I can not see a damn thing here!''

    ''Let me try something,'' said the traveler. He held out his palm to the sky.

    ''Starlight, starbright, lend us your light.'' Suddenly a small ball of light appeared in his hand. It was bright enough to light up everything in their tracks. The battlemaster was surprised for a moment.

    ''Nice trick. Why not use the other one, though?''

    ''Would you like to be roasted?'' replied the man. ''It would set the entire forest on fire! Besides, if I am to ever improve, I can''t rely on the same tricks all the time.''

    They still could not see the old spearman.

    ''Scythian!'' shouted the lightholder. ''Scythian, can you hear us? Where are you?''

    From the distance, the scholar''s answer came.

    ''Come on, friends! You must see this! It''s just on top of the hill!''

    ''What is there, you old bastard?'' The warmaster has run out of patience. For him, no answer came. ''I swear, once I''m up there, I will throw him down from this goddamn hill!''

    The swordsman sometimes could not decide if his mentor was serious or not. At least with the starbulb, it was easier to navigate the woods. In his thoughts, he started to wonder what it could be that Scythian was so determined to show them. What could it be, in the middle of nowhere that is this important?

    Finally they caught up to the old scholar. He was looking at the skies when they arrived. Aside from him and the pitch-black sky, however, there was nothing there.

    ''What is it?'' Wolf asked angrily. He was panting a little from the climb. Scythian did not answer him; instead, he turned to his pupil.

    ''Quick, turn off the light.''

    ''Why?'' the man was puzzled.

    ''Trust me, lad,'' he said with a smile.

    The lightholder shrugged and put his hand down, ending the spell. That was when all of them saw it.

    It was wonderful. Without the spell, the lights of the night skies became visible. Dancing, with every color imaginable. Bright red beams waving on the black canvas, as if greeting the people below. Crossed by beautiful turquoise lines creating new colors from their union. All of the lines seemingly converged on the surface of the moon, playfully stretching out from it, as if children leaving the family home with their friends. In that moment the whole world went silent around them. All of them watched the sky in awe, staring at the dancing lights. Wolf forgot about his frustrations and glared at the sky. The man got lost in the dance of the lights, trying to count all the colors of it. Even the Hollow was fascinated by them.

    For a few moments the swordsman expected something to happen. An attack, an unforeseen tragedy, bad news. After all, that was the usual string of events. But this time nothing happened. In this moment, he was free of every hardship. He finally could just enjoy himself with his companions, staring at something beautiful. No enemy, no financial issues, no breakdown, nothing. Just fascination. He could not remember when was the last time he could feel like this.

    It was Scythian who broke the silence.

    ''In these past few weeks, we had a lot of hardships and setbacks, so I thought that all of us could use a little break. It is not much, but it is important to see the beauty of the everyday events, even if things aren''t going great. Think about it, lad: what beautiful landscapes we crossed so far. All the obstacles we overcame, all the improvements you achieved so far. We may have a long way to go, and we may have more hardships ahead of us, but never forget to balance it out with the wonders of the road. Do not forget that this world can be joyful too, not just cruel. That you still have so much time here. So you should make the most of it.''

    The old mentor''s teaching was something he would take to heart. The travel would have no meaning if he would only do it for the sake of suffering. He did see so many beautiful places, so many new people, and gone through so many new experiences. Why only focus on the hardships? He was a warrior, but not for the sake of being one. He was one for the sake of his goals. And discovering all those new things was definitely one of them.

    He smiled.

    ''You were right, Scythian,'' he answered to his old mentor, still glaring at the skies. ''This really is wonderful.''

    Behind them, on a tree, was an owl, watching them and the lights. She agreed.

 Rule of logic-Part 1

    It was midnight. His mentors were still sleeping in the tent. The one thing that avoided him that night. His thoughts, as usual, were racing all over the place.

    No wonder; it was, after all, the anniversary of the start of his journey. He was thinking about all he had done. All he had achieved. All the changes he went through. All the things that were the same.

    And he found himself lacking. He did not feel that he was successful at all in his goals. He knew that big changes took time; he knew that he needed to be patient with himself. Still, he did not feel that the direction he was going was right at all. Or that he would move closer to the treasure by any meaningful way.

    But why? He asked himself. Was it because of it?

    He got up from his bed and walked out of the tent with the Hollow following him. They walked out to a clearing atop of the hill, where the traveler looked up to the skies, watching the lights, which were still dancing.

    No, he realized. It wasn''t the phantom of his emptiness. He said it himself once. The creature can''t make him feel anything; it just capitalizes on his inner sufferings. The problem (whatever it was) was from the inside of his mind not from the outside.

    He took a deep, long breath to clear his head, emptied his mind, trying to go down to the source. That was when he noticed.

    ''Show yourself,'' he said into the night. ''I know you''re watching us; show yourself!''

    At first he did not see anything weird. But he did notice an owl, sitting on the single tree of the clearing, looking down at him. He looked into its eyes.

    ''You know, you could have said hello.'' He said with a smile. The bird twisted its head askingly. He heard the answer not with his ears but in his mind.

    Since when can you see through my spell?*

    He made a painful face. He despised telepathy. Found it too intrusive. Even when he knew someone foe as long as he knew her.

    ''Please stop that. It was one of the first things Lionel taught me.'' He chuckled at the memory. ''He always said that in order to do battle properly, one has to avoid deception as best as one can. So he taught me how to see through yours. Now, may I ask why you are here? Sorry to say this, but the role for a mentor has been fulfilled. Twice.''This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    This time, the answer came from the owl.

    ''Why? Can''t I visit my old pupil''s prot¨¦g¨¦ just-''

    ''Then let me rephrase the question,'' interrupted the man. ''What can I do for you, Lady Athena?''

    The owl took flight, landing before him with such elegance that no natural bird would have possessed. But she was no regular bird. She started to glow in ethereal light, temporarily blinding the warrior. When he could see there was no owl to be found. Only a tall, beautiful woman, with dark hair, clad in armored robes, with a helmet on her head. Athena, daughter of Zeus, goddess of war and wisdom. An unmatched tactician. And guide for the man''s former mentor, Sir Lionel.

    ''Not in the mood for games, huh? Shame. I have some great riddles for you.'' She measured up the troubled traveler. Not quite what she remembered, but it would do. ''I''m here with a quest for you. A divine mission, one where you can prove your worth. It will be challenging, but should you succeed, your name shall be the stuff of legends! They will know you as the hero of all and¡ª

    ''No.''

    The goddess stopped. Slowly looked at the wanderer with a confused and annoyed look.

    ''No? What do you mean, No, you cannot say no!'' She said, irritated.

    ''And yet, that is what I am saying. No.''

    ''You don''t even know what it is about!'' Said the daughter of the thunderer.

    ''You want me to go after Nazrem. You want me to defeat him, take the amulet, and return it to you.''

    The Olympian wanted to answer, but then stopped. She took a closer look at the man. Looked behind the surface for a moment and realized that the promise of glory will not convince the young warrior, for that is not what he seeks. Not anymore. She also saw that something was troubling him. Something deeper. She made a deep sigh and started to speak, more gently this time.

    ''You are the only one left, who can stop him. We cannot interfere directly, and only you know about the amulet and its secrets. Therefore, only you can counteract it. As I heard, you two already fought again, yes?''

    The man nodded.

    ''Yes, I ran into him in Paxfort. He beat me. So much for counteracting.''

    ''But you did fight him. That''s more than most can say; you did good. You made him retreat.''

    ''Correction,'' cut in the man. ''The Hollow did.'' The wanderer told the godess about the entire encounter with the sorcerer. About what happened once he saw him. How Anger took over his mind. How the sorcerer beat him, chained him with his own thoughts. About how the Hollow saved them. How he felt broken after the fight. Athena looked over to the shadow. It''s face so close to the man, yet unfamiliar entirely. She thought about offering the man to get rid of the monster for him as a reward, but she changed her mind. There was something different about this creature than most of its kind. Something, she thought, the man knew, and what could aid him.

    ''I see why you are hesitant. But still, you must understand: if you don''t do this, hundreds will succumb to him, and untold thousands will suffer and die! Uncounted number of cities will suffer the fate of...'' she stopped for a moment, rethinking if she should say it or not. ''Of Facultatem.''

    This was a low blow. The warrior felt the grip on his heart after hearing that name. He clenched his fist and, with rage in his eyes, stared at the deity.

 Rule of Logic-Part 2

    ''Really? That''s what you''re going with? What''s next? That Sir Lionel did not teach me this way? I was under the impression that you were smart. Then look at me. Look at me, dammit!'' The man spread his arms. ''I am a wreck! After what happened, it took me a while to stand up, and for what? I started this journey in hopes of getting stronger. To be better. To be good enough to find the treasure! And yet I achieved little! Yes, I found companions; yes, I faced the creature that haunted me for months. Yes, I did learn some things. I have better control over my rage; I am trying to be more patient, to enjoy the little moments in life. I did overcome many obstacles; I even reignited my will! Pride, love, failure I am getting a better handle on all those things. And despite all that, I have been once again kicked back to the mud. I am feeling as lost as I did in that cultist''s maze. I tried to open myself to change, and yet it did not happen. I feel like I am not going forward at all. That I don''t have what it takes to be better, even though I am still fighting for it with all I have. I am trying to love myself more, and yet every time I would, I fail, and I am back to square one. How could I save anyone if I am unable to save myself?'' He stopped his rambling for a moment and continued. ''I am no hero. I am just a lost wanderer who has failed others and himself over and over again and one who will always be lost. A warrior always fighting. Such is my joy and my bane.''

    Athena listened to her broken-speaking partner. She no longer saw her idealized aspirant before her. She felt sorry for him. So young, so troubled. And yet so strong, so enduring. She knew that he really tried his best so far to be better. Yet there was one thing he overlooked.

    ''You are building a house already built.''

    The man looked at the goddess of wisdom with confusion.

    ''Is this one of your riddles?''

    ''No,'' said the war goddess. ''Simply a fact. What you are trying to do is find the new blocks and bricks for yourself so you can improve. So you can build yourself to be better, yes? All of the things you described, what you learned and experienced, are those blocks, and important ones at that. But you forgot one thing: you already have a house. You are trying to shove those blocks in in the old house hoping it would fit, but they don''t. They never will! You have to destroy the old house! Brick by brick, keeping what you need and throwing away the rest. And then with all those materials, build the building you want. You can and have to be open to change on the outside, but for the inside, that''s just not enough. In other words, in order to change on the inside, you have to commit to it completely. And to be willing to change fundamentally. And then and only then can you become the person you want to be.''If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    The man listened to the deity in a deep silence. Could it be done? Could he rebuild himself to the man he wants to be? If so, how could he start?

    The goddess needed no spell to guess what was going through the young aspirant''s head.

    ''It is by no means an easy or quick way. But by sticking to the rule of logic, it can be done.''

    ''So that''s it?'' Asked the man. ''I should cast myself aside, along with my emotions, and then I can improve myself? Be a cold, unyielding man of logic, discarding the feelings of joy, sadness, and pride, and make decisions based on my mind alone? Isn''t that just the life of an automaton?''

    The daughter of the god king let out a deep sigh.

    ''No, no, you misunderstand,'' started the goddess. ''The rule of logic is not discarding the emotions. It helps you wield them. It is the control over them that can make you strong. That does not mean that you have to deny them from yourself, but it does mean keeping them in check. Think of it like how you wield your anger. You can wield other emotions the same way. Forge them into items; infuse existing ones as you see fit. Similarly, you don''t have to "cast yourself aside" to rebuild yourself; quite the opposite, actually. You just have to accept that you are imperfect as of now and that you need to change yourself in the core should you be successful in your endeavor of being a better person.''

    ''But how? How do I start?'' asked the guidance needing warrior.

    ''As I said: you have to break down yourself. Then pick up the rubble. Identify what can be used, discard what can''t, and reforge what you think is important. There is no one way to do this. It differs from person to person. It''s all trial and error, I''m afraid. But by thinking things through logically, you will find the way to accomplish this feat.''

    The man stood silent for a moment.

    ''Do you really believe that I can do it?'' He asked the warrior goddess of Olympos.

    She smiled at him.

    ''To be ready to redefine oneself. To be the one to break everything it is and then stand up tall. That is a feat most men would never do, for they fear they can''t. Are you most men, young one?''

    The man smiled back. He knew that this task would be taxing. He knew that it would take everything he had to achieve and then some. But he also knew that whatever he becomes, how he will come out on the other end will be the person he always wanted to be. The person who can find the answers and the treasure he seeks. He will become that person! No matter the cost.

 Rule of Logic- Part 3

    Athena saw the travelers smile. She knew that her work here is done. She knew that the man would walk this new path, and she truly wished him the best. However, there was still the problem of the amulet. She still needed to find someone to help her, help the world with that. But she did realize that as of right now, the traveler could not. And unfortunately, she was unsure how much time the mortals have. Maybe years, maybe months.

    ''I''m glad I could be of assistance,'' she said, breaking the silence. ''But I have to leave now. As you said, you already have your mentors, and I still have to find someone to take back the amulet. I''m still sad that it could not be you.'' She started to walk away.

    ''I''m sorry,'' agreed the traveler. ''But I have my own mission¡ªtechnically two now¡ªand I am not willing to abandon them just to chase that creep down. He already took so much from me already.'' He thought for a moment and then continued. ''Although, I would not hurry to find a "hero" if I were you.''

    The goddess stopped in her way and turned back to the man.

    ''Why?''

    ''Well, chances are that I am going to take the amulet back anyway,'' he shrugged.

    ''You just said you will not go after him,'' the deity said. ''Are you suggesting that your fates are intertwined?''This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ''I don''t believe in fate,'' he quickly replied. Then with a smug smile, he added. ''It is just logic.''

    ''Explain.''

    ''You said it yourself. I am the only one left who knows how to counter the amulet, and we fought at Paxfort. Given, I lost, but I still fought him. He felt what I am capable of. He knows that sooner or later I am going after him. When I am ready. He will not wait until then. He wants me gone, because he knows that should I be succesfull he will not be able to beat me. He even said so: "I could become troublesome later." So he will come after me eventually. So why bother going after him when he will come to me anyway?''

    The goddess of wisdom was left speechless for a moment. The logic was sound. Surprisingly even.

    ''And what will you do when he does?'' She asked. The warrior''s face became serious for a moment.

    ''I will give him all I''ve got. I am going to make him pay for everything he has done. And next time, I am going to win.''

    Athena smiled again.

    ''I have no doubt about that. I know you said you have guidance now, but I will drop by from time to time.''

    With that, the Olympian glowed again. She disappeared, and an owl flew into the night.

    ''She never says a "hello,"'' the wanderer said with a sigh. He looked after the bird for a while. His face is turning grimmer by the moment.

    Rebuilding himself from the ground up. Not a small task. Nor an easy one. He knew he would not be alone in it, but still. It is a heavy burden. Even more so, before he could start creating, he needed to destroy. Where to start?

    He stared at the Hollow, who listened to the whole conversation. Just standing there.

    He now knew where to go next.

    ''Well,'' he said to the creature. ''You heard her. I need to destroy myself. Better get to it.''

    He stepped closer to the shadow-made person. The night was long.

    And full of memories.

 Destruction-Part 1

    They were both still out on the field, where Athena left them, where the lights in the skies were still visible. The creature was wondering, what destruction did the wanderer mean exactly?

    ''I need you to do something for me,'' said the man to the Hollow.

    ''In the forest, you pulled out a memory of myself as a kid. I need you to do that again, but this time, with the memory of two other people. Can you do that?''

    The shadow-made creature nodded. Still it wondered, why would he want to do that? And who exactly...? It made a surprised expression, as it felt the memory of its prey.

    ''Yes, them,'' said the ranger with a soured voice. ''In order to break down the house, I have to start at its foundations. And they are that. I have a lot to say. Things I never told them, things I never could tell them, and I can''t do it anymore, because... because they are gone.''

    The man looked to the ground with sorrow, regret, and sadness. The Hollow felt all these from him, yet something was wrong. These emotions were supposed to fill it; they were the fuel that let its fire burn. And yet, while its power grew with them, inside, it did not feel any refreshment at all. It was like air had blown through an empty room.

    Finally, the ranger clenched his fist and continued.

    ''I know why you did what you did in the forest. You wanted to feed upon the emotions that that conversation set free. So, here''s the deal: do this for me, and I promise there will be enough of those to fill you for a month! Do you agree?''

    The monster looked at the man. It had doubts about if this would help it, but still it nodded. It had a theory to test.

    ''Good. Then let''s get started.''

    The Hollow stretched out its arm. Reaching deep within the traveler''s mind, going through his memories. When it had seen enough, it pulled them out.

    A black smoke appeared, swirling between them. With a gesture of the creature, slowly, it took shape.

    The man looked, as it took on an all-too-familiar form. A form of a woman.

    ''Hello, mother. It''s been a while,'' the man stared at the memory before him. Even though he knew it was not real, he could not help but feel a little fear. Should he really say everything to her? He tried to avoid it all his life, and now he should just hurt her this way? He quickly brushed off these thoughts. This was not his mother. And even if it was, he already delayed this conversation too long.

    ''I can only imagine what you would do if it were really you,'' he said after a short silence. ''You would not understand why I am here with two strangers and a monster, traveling the world. Then I would explain why. And you would call it stupid. That''s how it always went, isn''t it? I would take an interest in something, make a decision, buy something, and the moment I tell you or you find out, you would berate it. Berate me. Never once had you even tried to comprehend or accept what I am, even though you claimed that you care about me. You never wanted to see the real me. Of course you made an effort to change me. Not just the berating but the emotional blackmail.'' Memories flooded his mind. Arguments, fights when he was little. It was too overwhelming. He exhaled, trying to calm his nerves. And then continued.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    ''Everything. Every gift, every toy, every piece of clothing, and every book, even the ones that I worked for and bought with my own money, were subject to being used in your games. Every time you felt like you needed to punish me, or you just wanted to show off "who rules," you reminded me of the fact that I am in your house! Every time I got a gift or you helped me with something, I felt like it was just another string, which made me more vulnerable towards you! Something to be used later as a blackmailing tool! Like I was not a member of the family living there but a subject in your kingdom! Not your son, just a beggar who you took in for the night. That I should just shut up and be happy, that you let me live there. Eventually, of course, this made me cautious, downright fearful of accepting any kind of help! Do you want to know what it felt like living in that house with you?! '' The man clenched his fist and raised his voice in rage.

    ''I HAD NO HOME! Not in the sense that most people use the word! I never felt safe in my own family home; I felt like I did not belong there! Like all this that I called "mine" or was called "my space" could be taken away any moment by you just because we disagree! You would have never done it, but how should a mere child be sure about that? You run my trust so thin that I''m not fully sure of it even now! Probably would have made it into some dumb "lesson."''

    The memory had its armed cross. Several times it tried to speak, to interrupt the traveler in his monologue. But he recognized this so painfully well.

    ''Oh, right. Here it would come the part where you would start to say things like "I am the shittiest mother in the world," "Then just leave me here if I''m so bad," or maybe "Then I just kill myself!". Why wouldn''t you say those things? Worked every time when I wanted to talk about how I feel. It did not matter if I said it out of a tantrum or later when I tried to talk these things over with you like an adult, desperately trying to make our relationship better. Not like you ever saw me as an adult. You always saw a child in me no matter how I behaved or how old I was. My opinion on things never mattered because I was only a "child" who could not know what he spoke about; therefore, he was wrong by default. But returning to the self-blame: why would you think that it was a good idea to threaten a child with your suicide, giving him the idea that he was the cause? Even if you felt bad, if these were real thoughts, it was cruel for you to put that burden on me! And you never tried talking about it with me once I got older. Maybe I could have helped!'' He completely lost himself in the memories, the rage. How could she have done this to him? His own mother putting such burdens on a little child?

    ''Oh, but this was not enough, was it?'' asked the wanderer. ''I was, what? Twelve years old when you first dumped all the problems of your marriage on me. The marriage, which should never have been. And one with such a burden, which no one should have endured. Perfect for a kid, right? Even though I listened. I listened because those were the only times I felt needed. I wanted to help you and dad, figure out how to keep the two of you together. To be happy! Not like I knew anything about that kind of stuff. By God, I do not know anything about it now! But I wanted to try, wanted to believe that I could save the two of you! Only to realize that there is nothing left to save. That it would have been better if you two had gone your separate ways. And one more instance, when I felt that I was not good enough to solve this problem,'' he took a deep breath. Fearing what is to come. It was time to bring in the legacy he feared the most.

    ''But that one was not just your fault.'' He nodded to the Hollow. ''I''m ready.''

 Destruction-Part 2

    The creature nodded back and gestured again with its hand. A new silhouette started to form behind him. This time it was a man, so similar to himself. He did not turn at first. Gathering the courage even against this copy of the person. But he did have to face him as well.

    ''It was yours too, Father,'' he finally turned to the figure. ''You and your behavior. You and I, we never were close. You were always closed to me emotionally. Never let me close, although I guess when I got to some parts of my life, you kind of tried to use them to connect. Making yourself "useful.". Like when I got my first tools home for some crafting projects. You suddenly took great interest in what I was doing. Otherwise, there was not much that you would show me about yourself. Well, except of course,'' he drew Anger from its sheath. The vines started crawling upwards on his skin.

    ''This. You never told me how you got this blade. Was it a family heirloom? Was it something that was given out by your own father? You created it? I do not know, and it does not matter now. Wolf told me something back then: "It may have been your father''s, but it''s yours now." He was right. This curse of yours is now mine to bear.'' He squeezed the hilt of the blade hard as he remembered how his father "wielded" it. He pointed to the figure with the sword.

    ''Honestly? With Mother, my problems are complicated. I could go on for hours about what hurt me. How did those things shape me, but you?'' He chuckled sourly. ''With you, it is painfully simple! FEAR! That''s the strongest feeling I have towards you! A father should be a point of safety in a kid''s life! Tell me, how was I supposed to feel safe while I heard you shouting outside, beating her up! Tell me, how was I supposed to feel safe while I heard glass shatter, wood breaking, and hits being thrown all the while I was with my brother in his room, trying to calm him down! Tell me, does a child feel safe when he feels that he has to bring a BLUDGEON to the market, fearing that you would come after them and READYING HIMSELF TO....'' He stopped. He noticed the vines crawling up too high. He closed his eyes, touching the blade''s hilt. Feeling its texture. Its weight. It was a deadly instrument, but right now it was an anchor to reality. He opened his eyes and tried to notice the details in craftsmanship. After a minute, the vines slipped back on his body. Feeling in control again, he let the memories return to his mind and continued. He had to see it done.

    ''Do you know how many times I cried myself to sleep? Making scenarios in my head about if you would turn your anger against me or my brother, how should I put you down? Permanently. Of course there was no real chance for you to hurt us, but tell that to that fourteen-year-old in his bed! I never felt more fearful for my life than in those times. It all changed once I became the disciple of Sir Lionel, but the damage was done! I never could look up to you as a male role model, and you were the only one close by until then. I still do not know to this day: why did you change? Was it because you realized the error in your ways, or was it because you knew that I would stand up to you now and you did not want that regardless of the outcome? Did you even knew that you were the reason I started that course?! To be able to stop you?! How messed up is that! And did you know, or ever suspect, my biggest fear?!'' He took a step closer and looked into the eye of the construct.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ''It was,'' he said. ''To look into the mirror one morning and realize that I had become just like you! A hollow man, without goals, fueled only by rage and sadness!''

    The figure moved and stood beside the other one. It was surprising, but not unwelcome. For this next part, was meant for them both.

    ''What a fine pair you are! One gave me mental terror; the other made me fear for my life! Never once had I felt that you were proud of me! None of you!'' He stopped for a moment, thinking. Was it true? Were they not proud when he finished his studies? Or when he accomplished something on his own?

    ''No, that''s not the truth. Not entirely, at least. You were proud of your son. Of how good I did in my studies, how good I can take care of myself and my brother, and my goals for my future. At least for some parts of it. But the thing is, that was not me. That was the part you wanted to see. The person you wanted me to be and pushed me, almost by any means to be. The son. But everything else? The man of who I was, or what I wanted to be? You always despised that. You were always ashamed of that. Both of you always dismissed the parts you did not want to see.'' He looked at the constructs with a sour face. So many things to say still, so many events that hurt him. He looked at the Hollow.

    ''Here''s another truth. One that I never told anyone. These feelings, whenever I think about you or my childhood. They are tearing me apart. It''s like a parasite, grinding away my happiness little by little. Am I predestined to feel this way? How could I be someone better with all these memories on my mind? I mean, I do know that I should give it meaning, make it a lesson of some sort, but how? How could I move on from this? Can I be different than you? Or no matter what I do, I will end up just like you two? Will I be just another soured, sad man with goals for my future that I never even tried to make come true? A husk of a person, not realizing he ended up being one long ago? Would you have ever been proud of me, the real me, at least for a moment?''

    Tears gathered in his eyes. This was the first time he let these emotions out of himself. It was bottled up so deep, because he felt he could never show this to anyone, fearing it would be a point of ridicule for others. Just another point to laugh at. And now that they were out, he did not know what to do with them. He fell to his knees, sobbing. Like that child in his bed, the thought crossed his mind.

    The Hollow felt his despair, but it did not satisfy it. Why? It did not understand it either. Was it all suffering when it came to his parents? And if so, why did it not feel anything? It saw something else. It was the two parents, in the man''s mind. Another type of memory. It brought it out. That was when the two reflections held each other''s hands.