Danadrian stepped onto the unpaved stretch of dirt road running through the forest and had to just stop and rub his eyes. He was still getting used to being outside again and reminding himself that, yes, there was more to the world than never-ending tunnels and stone bricks. Surprisingly, he also felt a lot more exposed out here than he remembered, but that might have to do with his undisguised Demon companion, or that his cloak was one of the only things keeping him decent.

"And once again, I am back to wandering the forest in rags. If I had a copper for every time… well, I don't want to tempt fate into making this a regular thing."

"Oh yes, your decency is definitely a concern. I'm sure travellers will avert their eyes in shame once they're done screaming in terror at me. Or running me through with their pitchforks."

"Has anyone ever done that before? The pitchforks, I mean."

Alleria grunted, "No, but there've been close calls, and I've heard of others that have gone through it. Nasty thing, those. They're like spears, but they stab you three times instead of once. Triple the inconvenience."

"I can only imagine." He looked left and right, surveying the road. It was empty as far as he could see, and the lack of any recent tracks made him think this wasn't uncommon. And anyway, he expected a well-used road would have been paved with the bare minimum of stone.

"So, what is the plan if a wagon comes rolling past us? Duck and cover?"

Alleria looked up at him, then winced and turned away. The Sun must have caught her eye. "Sounds like you have a sound enough plan without my input."

"That was a joke. Seriously, you are much better at this than I am. What happened to the Demon with all the ingenious plans up her sleeve?"

"Probably still lying in that ditch two hundred metres back," she muttered in a dry voice. "Let's just say I'm a bit off my game. Right."

She straightened her back and looked around, then back at him, then at the edges of the road, trailing off into the forest. He watched her gaze run over the tall, thick trees and back to the winding path before them. She shrugged. "Duck and cover isn't that bad of an idea, honestly. Anonymity is our friend until we can find a town and get ourselves cleaned up, and if the word 'Demon' is even brought up as a rumour, we'll be in trouble."

"We don't even know where a town or village is. Surely it would be to our benefit if I asked any travellers for directions?"

She looked him up and down and winced, "You should look at your reflection the first time you get a chance. Whatever you think you look like, it's much worse."

So I look about as well as I did when I Fell into the Crynmon. Brilliant.

"Hey, you just mocked the concern I had for my appearance, not even a minute ago."

She raised an eyebrow. "Well, I wasn't suggesting you wander up to random pedestrians that pass us by. They'll probably think you're a vagabond or a rogue trying to rob them. Or they might turn out to be one of those sorts, and they'll stick you with a knife in a heartbeat."

He rubbed his eyes and sighed, "So in conclusion: talk to nobody and hide from everybody, correct? All the way until we find a settlement?"

"Correct. These hills will give us quite a few blind spots, so we might want to follow the road but walk in the forest instead, just to be cautious. Otherwise, we might not see them before it's too late, especially so if they're fast."

He cast an eye into the forest in dismay and then back at her. "That will slow us by at least half."

She shrugged her shoulders and gave him a look that said What do you want me to do? "I would like us to err on the side of caution. I feel naked enough as it is without someone jumping me from behind."

She shifted a little, and he saw that, without the dim or artificial lighting of the dungeon, she was about as well covered as he was. He looked away quickly. "We would hear horses or carts passing, and I doubt there'll be many of the latter along this path. And I do not think any travellers going on foot would be moving fast enough to catch us off guard."

"It's our funeral," she muttered sourly. "We would've been better off if this were the Keloweyne River. This road is so generic and standard for the Domain that we could feasibly be anywhere. We don't know how far we walked underground, and that was before we were flung out of it in a malfunctioning Void spell."

"Fine, fine, just…" He sighed again. He felt it was becoming a common reaction of his. "Which way are we going then?"

She looked left and right again. "The closer we can get to the Parintheil and Keloweyne, the better, so… north? Though I'm not really sure which is-"

"That way." He immediately pointed right.

She whistled. "That was quick."

"I have a knack for this sort of thing. Plus, the Sun is moving that way, so it is a simple deduction."

They began walking northward along the dirt path. The steady crunch of dirt, the singing birds flying overhead, the fluttering of the trees in the wind and the feeling of it brushing against his face- he'd missed this. He hadn't even realised how much until silence and stagnant air had become his reality for weeks.

And the Sun, it was like a gentle hand resting on his shoulder, urging him forward and filling him with newfound energy and purpose, even when clouds obscured it.

I cannot go without again, I don't think. If only I were up there, in the skies, where I could truly bask in all its heat and majesty.

By contrast, in the depths of the ruins, he had never felt so cut off before. Well, that wasn't true; there had been a time when he had felt such distance between himself and the Light before.

The day had Fallen.

His thoughts were trailing back to what he'd experienced there, deep beneath the earth, despite every part of him being pulled by the urge to bask in the now. But he couldn't, at least not fully.

A society that had found balance between the three Absolute Powers. A feat he had thought to be impossible. But then again, it wasn't like he knew much anyway, and the way they had solidified that balance was in a God he never wanted to hear the name of again.

Boraks. Melgos. Evil Incarnate. There were few Gods he would put beside the Dark God as worth disdaining, but he was certainly one of them.

He was conflicted. On one hand, there lay the remnants of a civilisation that had achieved theological balance, despite everything. On the other hand, they had not only worshipped but also been actively involved in the art of blood magic, to the point of being masters of it. And their civilisation had eventually fallen to ruin, and not even the Carathiliar remembered that they'd even existed.

Divine intervention for their sins? Not according to their history, which had been biased enough to refer to their own spawn as mongrels, but perhaps it was more nuanced than that. What if it was fate's hand instead that ended their civilisation, and thus upended their balanced worldviews that incorporated so much Void and Darkness?

"Or maybe it was just history playing out as history usually does?" Alleria gave him both a grounded and heartless opinion when he brought it up to her. "Bad luck hit them, and they were either too proud or too stupid to see their end before it was too late."

"But…" He ground his teeth. "Not everything is that simple, Alleria. Theologically, I believe there was more at play there than it initially seems."

"Theology." She groaned and rubbed her head, "Theology gives me a headache. I would rather stare directly at the sun right now than engage in a debate about theology. Especially with you."

Well, that's a little uncalled for.

"What's wrong with debating it with me? Surely, even in my limited state, I can give opinions and viewpoints that no others can?"

"You're also biased beyond belief, and the biggest turning point you've had so far is concluding that Demons and the Carathiliar aren't automatically awful people because they worship other Gods."

"That…" That was a fair assessment, and he couldn't refute it honestly.

Though he still found his brain lingering on the subject and was always subconsciously drawn to it, physical limitations began to take hold. Such limitations were colloquially referred to as 'hunger', and it was holding his stomach in a vice grip. Likewise, Alleria was also going to need food. Not just because she was hungry, but because she was still in rough shape-

Better shape than me, but rough shape, nonetheless.

-and would need more energy if she were going to be a hundred percent again. He tried to ignore the constant jealousy he had towards her ability to just get better as long as she had food and energy. For a race that stood beside Humans and other mortals, it was blatantly unfair. He wondered what Slathir had been thinking when he created them.

"So… food and water."

"Right."

They finally came to a stop and looked around. The dirt road continued to stretch over hills and around bends, with no clear end in sight. He had noticed more recent tracks along it, though still a day or two old, but even when it reached its highest point, he'd seen no smoke. Good for their immediate safety, bad for their immediate problems.

"Finding a small stream or pond shouldn't be too difficult. Almost makes you wish we had those infinite fountains, doesn't it?"

Alleria grumbled, "Makes me wish we'd figured out how to take one with us. Can you imagine how useful that would've been?"

"I can imagine that if anyone else saw it, we'd been robbed blind by every thief in town, the innkeepers, and probably the local government as well." He winced. "Anyway, water isn't going to be our biggest problem, and we've still got some stored up. Food though…" He rubbed his chin and tried to think.

"If roots in boiled water are on the menu again, may I suggest some flavourings?" He glanced at her sharply, only to see her lifting up a hand containing pulled-up pieces of grass. "I hear it's a local delicacy," she added with a grin.

"Funny." He stepped off the path and began jumping over tree roots. "Fortunately for us both, there is much fresher produce to be found in this forest. Produce that I am well familiar with."

It didn't take long for him to find a patch of wild carrots growing in a clearing. When he got down on his knees and started pulling them out, Alleria hesitated for a second and just stared at him.

"This won't pull itself, you know. And might I add, one of us is in better shape for manual labour." He grunted and pulled another out. "And yet here I am."

"How did you know you could find these?"

"You could say it was a trial by fire, or rather, a trial by hunger when I first arrived here. Finding stuff to eat in the forest is actually not too difficult if you know what you're looking for. For example, I know that two trees down there are apples we can try harvesting from. I can see the change in the bark's texture from here."

Alleria finally got down beside him and helped retrieve the carrots. Not more than they could carry, but enough that he hoped he could fill them with something of substance.

"You were definitely a hunter amongst the Angelica. Or a farmer? I don't think they have those."

"We go wherever we are commanded, and wherever we are needed. But I disagree. I don't think that agriculture was an important aspect of who I was- who I am." He dusted the dirt off himself. "If it were, I'd probably be able to tell you the perfect way to farm wheat or cycle crops during different seasons."

"And yet you could teach me how to catch a rabbit, right?"

"I… yes, I could, but we'd need rope, and it would take a lot of patience, and time. So unless you've got your heart set on it…"

"I think I can suffer without proper meat for a few more days. Honestly, anything is better than literal roots, and these carrots don't look half bad."

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

After securing their orange bounty, he began looking for a place to make camp. The day was drawing on, and it would be better for them to find a secure spot now than be bumbling about in the dark.

They eventually settled on a spot nestled between two extra-large trees, and a stone's throw from a stream running between the hills. The road sat a few minutes' walk away, which meant there was no chance of them losing it, but with the natural terrain obscuring them, there was less chance of anyone wandering over to say hello. The smoke was an inevitability they would just have to deal with.

Alleria gathered stones for a fire pit whilst he cut their carrots up with his knife and deposited them in his 'pot'. Once that was done, he lit the gathered sticks and roots with a spark, and it was off to the races, so to speak.

He… thought it would be a crime to call it carrot soup. If a chef ever saw it, he might well be hanged for his crimes. It'd be closer to call it 'Carrots Sitting in Hot Water'. But he would also be lying if he said that the presence of a proper flavour almost made him tear up. It also reminded him of real, proper meals that existed now as only a memory. What he wouldn't give to just smell one of those again.

"Are you… crying?"

He shook himself out of his trance and snapped his face away. "No. I am simply… reminiscing. Can you still recall what real food tastes like?"

She snorted, "A few weeks of hunger and now you're acting like you've never eaten bread your whole life. Though I will admit, a change of cuisine does sound appetising. Not to be blunt, but I wouldn't mind a meal cooked by an actual chef."

"What, you aren't enjoying my Carrot Soup?"

She laughed out loud. "Carrot- this is not Carrot Soup. That's like heating up some flour and calling it bread."

"It's better than roots and slime," he grumbled.

"That we can agree on. Carrots are an alright vegetable, anyway. You should try paermelon."

"Paermelon? Never heard of it. Is it native?"

She shook her head. "Not here, but half of Demagain is overflowing with them. Imagine a watermelon, right? But this big-" she stretched her hands out as far as she could. "And made up of juice and pure bliss. You can cut it up, stew it, or ferment it. My mother used to make this amazing dish with it."

"She did?"

"Yeah." Her face dropped a little, "She used to call it 'Paermelon Night' whenever she'd make it. When I was a child, I remember even the numbers would pop in just to have a bite." Her eyes were growing unfocused as the memory came back to her.

"Do you know what her recipe was?"

That made her perk up a bit, and he watched as she pulled herself out of the spiral. While she declared that the recipe was a secret, she gave enough hints and details that he thought he might be able to replicate it if he was given the proper ingredients and tools. That got her talking, and before long, he was sitting beside the fire, listening to her explaining in detail the extent of her mother's culinary career.

Afternoon passed into evening, and as it grew dark so too did his eyes grow heavy. Still having no clue how long he'd been passed out before, the rapid approach of sleep told him that it wasn't long enough.

Alleria had gone quiet a while ago. He glanced over and saw her curled up beside the embers of the fire, her cloak pulled up both to cover herself and hide her horns.

He followed suit, positioning himself against a root and taking his cloak off to use as a blanket. He rested one hand on his pendant one last time before sleep took him.

. . .

It was a dreamless night, but hardly a peaceful one. He kept waking for brief seconds before slipping off again, and the roots in the ground were constantly digging into his back. Add to it the rustle of the trees, the sound of nightlife, and the unfamiliar feeling of the wind against his face, and you have the perfect recipe for a light sleep.

The difference between footsteps and leaves touching the ground? Impossible to determine. Sluggishly, the thought of wild beasts coming across them came to him in a moment of lucidity. They should've taken turns to sleep.

He imagined Gellron standing over them, or Brakenus, or both. The Demon Hunter General would kill them then and there, but there was a good chance the Demon would revel in the experience.

Maybe it was because of these thoughts, maybe he was just getting used to the noise, but when a twig broke and his eyes snapped open, he had already drawn his sword before his brain had caught on.

"Who goes there?"

A figure cloaked in shadow froze beside the dead firepit, hunched over. Then, slowly, they put a finger to their lips and pointed another at Alleria's still-sleeping form.

"Quiet, boy, or you'll wake your friend. The process has not yet run its course."

Her voice… "Who are you? And what do you want? One wrong move-"

"Put that Anamagos blade away, you won't be needing it. At least not tonight."

He didn't move, so the figure sighed and stepped away from them both. The outline of their hands disappeared into what he assumed were their pockets or some cloak of sorts, and began rummaging around.

"And… there we go."

They raised their hand again. A blue flame burned within a lantern, illuminating the area in a dim glow. They attached the lantern to their waist. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the new light. Then he looked down at his blade, then back at the obviously magical flame.

How on Andwelm…

As he could now see the figure properly, he ran his eyes over them, looking for any weapons, hidden or otherwise. He saw none but instead found the real picture was quite different to what the shadows had painted.

They weren't actually hunched over; they were just short, shorter than Alleria. Rather than being cloaked in shadow, they were cloaked in a plain cloak that had clearly seen much use and better days, having many stitched-up holes and patches that didn't match. They weren't even hooded; their head was, in fact, covered by a baggy hat that trailed down the back of their head.

'They' were also a she. An older woman, wrinkles plain as day, even with the dim lighting, with lighter skin than he.

"Who are you?" He repeated. "Who sent you?"

"Who sent me?" She scoffed, "I believe it was the 'me' from a few hours ago. Now one dares to send me places, boy. Now, unless you want to learn why, I'd suggest lowering that sword before you get yourself hurt."

As far as threats went… it was definitely not what he was used to. Despite himself, he lowered the tip of the blade somewhat. He didn't sheath it, however, and it was still ready in his hands.

"I'm not accustomed to late-night visitors being so cordial with me. What do you want with us? And who are you?" Perhaps if he kept repeating it, she might dignify him with a response.

"You sure do love talking, don't you?" She leaned back down to Alleria's sleeping form. He stepped forward immediately as a warning, but she completely ignored him and ran her hands over the Demon's forehead. Then she reached into her pocket. He was ready to react if it was a knife, but he was stumped when she drew away, and he saw what it was.

A leaf. A plain leaf, one he might find on the ground beside him. Bizarrely, the woman stepped back and shook out her hands.

"That should do it."

"What did you do to her?"

She raised her hands. "I gave her the best night's sleep she'll ever have. She can thank me in the morning. You, on the other hand…" She eyed him critically. "You are not as easy a fix. Hmm, fine. Take her."

He stared, despite himself. "I beg your pardon?"

"Pick up your friend, boy, I intend to move with haste. Don't worry about waking her up; there's no chance of that happening. Not unless you drop her down a hill, so be careful."

Things were moving fast. So fast that he felt like he had blinked, and suddenly he was following the stranger with his pack slung across his back and Alleria in his arms.

This is becoming a bit too common a phenomenon for comfort.

The stranger was leading him through the forest, still illuminated like an ethereal beacon by her flame. Her definitely magical flame that he somehow couldn't find a trace of mana around.

"Where are you taking us?"

"To our destination, of course. To the end of the path."

"Do you always speak in riddles?"

She snorted loudly, "Hah! If you think I'm speaking in riddles now, you haven't seen anything yet."

They continued on in silence again, before he opened his mouth again. Whether it was to feel the silence or just his own stubbornness, he wasn't sure.

"You still have not told me who you are. It's already against my better judgment to be following a stranger deep into the woods."

"And you think that learning my name will make me any less of a stranger, boy?" She turned around, and he thought he caught a raised eyebrow. "Besides that, you have forgotten your manners, haven't you?"

Manners? The fact that that word was uttered here, in the dead of night, as he followed a mysterious figure into the woods, trudging over dirt and roots with his comatose companion in his arms, made me want to rethink if this wasn't a dream after all, and he might actually be capable of having them.

In the end, he decided to humour the old lady. "Good evening, ma'am. My name is Danadrian, follower of the Light. My friend is Alleria Elevar, daughter of Anaderia. And who might you be?"

She chuckled in genuine amusement. "So you do have it in you. Interesting. May the Sun Goddess look kindly on you, Danadrian. I am Yulia, Yulia Hyacinthia. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"The pleasure is all mine. Now, may I assume that you are not, in fact, leading me into a Talradian ambush, or some other scenario that would lead to bodily harm on my part?"

She turned back to the path they were supposedly following. "I promise, neither of you will come to harm by following me. Did you really expect that?"

"Strangers in the night offering aid are few and far between, Ms. Hyacinthia. And I have seen far stranger scenarios, anyway. May I assume, then, that you have no qualms with Demons?"

"You assume correctly, Mr… you never did give me your last name."

"Oh, I-I have none. Danadrian is fine."

She went silent for another second before continuing, "…Danadrian. I knew your friend was a Demon of House Elevar the moment I laid eyes on her. Wandering around these parts unguarded is bold of you both, but then again, there is nothing normal about either of you."

It was a direct and piercing opinion that speared straight through his guard. She had come to that conclusion fast. Too fast… how long had she been watching them? How was she able to get a read of them, on him, so quickly?

And where in the name of the Light were they going?

He was just about to ask her that question again when she turned back to him.

"It's going to get steep, so make sure you don't slip. And watch that you don't drop her."

The land indeed began to slope downwards, and what he could see beyond the lantern light was being obscured by rising hills around them. He spent the next few minutes avoiding rocks and walking slowly down whatever path they were on. He was so concentrated on not falling over that he didn't notice Yulia had stopped until he almost bumped into her.

"Easy there, I'm not as young as I used to be."

They were in what he thought was a valley of some sort, nestled between the hills. In the night, he could only make out a little of their surroundings, especially with the trees cloaking them, but also because of the light in his eyes that was drawing all attention.

It was a cottage, crafted of wood and stone in a distinctly non-Carathiliarian style. The roof was straighter and more uniform, though it still slanted down somewhat. It glowed with candlelight from the windows, which, impressively, were made of glass, and not just boards of wood.

"I'm not sure if I should even be surprised at this point," he muttered to himself under his breath. Yulia chuckled.

"I get that a lot. Come now, I have room for you to rest her down."

He followed her into the cottage, all the while wondering if he should be a bit more on guard than he was. When he entered the well-lit interior, she pointed towards a bed of moss in the corner. He gently placed Alleria down. She was still fast asleep.

When he stood, he got a better look at the room. It was small, but a door in the corner showed that there were likely one or two more rooms besides this one. The walls were covered with vines and shelves, which had all manner of assorted items on them. Everything from empty glass bottles and full ones with strange liquids, to mouldy fruit and clear crystals.

Yulia was hovering beside a fireplace, next to which sat a black cauldron. She hooked her blue lantern to a hinge on the wall, then beckoned him.

"Now, you next. I doubt that carrying her was an easy feat, despite how light she looks, so it can't have been good for your injuries."

He stepped forward slowly. "You get used to it. What do you mean by 'me next'? Are you… a healer? If so, I may have need of your services."

Her wrinkled face cracked into a smile. "Not exactly, but I'm glad you're finally catching on. Those wounds of yours… nasty, and no doubt infected. I give you one week."

"One week till?"

"Till you die." Her smile slipped. "Unless you found a Cleric who could cleanse the infection. But the closest ones you'll find are in Tandrias, and you'd be long perished before you made it there. You said you were a follower of the Light, correct?"

"That's right. Though I haven't been in the company of Clerics and Paladins for some time."

"I don't doubt it." She reached into her pockets again and withdrew a pair of spectacles. She put them on and squinted at him. "But you have the hallmarks of a mage, boy. Don't you know how to cleanse a wound with Light Magic?"

"I… wouldn't call myself a mage, though I am adept at some forms of Light Magic. It's complicated."

Her eyes darted about his figure. He felt like he was being appraised.

"Well, anyway, if I wasn't about you would be done for." She pointed to an empty chair. "Now sit there and be still for a moment."

Nothing would do but for him to sit as commanded whilst she messed around her kitchen. She opened jars and peered inside before closing them, shook jars of strange and sickly-coloured liquids; at one point, she sniffed a flower that had been stowed away in a corner, laughed out loud, then turned away from it.

I'm beginning to wonder… she is sane, right? I didn't just follow an insane hermit into the woods, did I?

Her house was a good way away from the nearest road, with the aforementioned road being one that seemed to be rarely used. There were no towns or even villages in sight. The only strike against his theory was her skin. A foreigner living out in the woods was still more believable than a foreign hermit living in Carathiliar.

"Ah, of course, that's the one." She had finally settled on a porcelain jar above the mantlepiece. She turned to him as she dug her hand into it. "Now hold still, this might sting a little, but given your sorry state, I imagine that won't be a problem."

Before he could respond, she was right up in his face, slathering ointment onto his wounds. At least he assumed it was ointment, but the texture and viscosity were all off. It wasn't as gelatinous as the slime, but not far off. It was cold and did sting, but not unbearably.

"What in the name of the Gods are these bandages?" She ruthlessly pulled them off his arm.

"Strips I ripped from my tunic. There wasn't anything else at hand."

The look she gave him was sharp. "I'd ask you to remove the tunic, but there's so little left of it I'd be wasting my time." She then moved on to pulling the 'bandages' off of his chest, which made him wince more than the stinging ointment did.

Huh. She smells like flowers.

Now that she was right up in his face, or rather, his chest, he could get a much better look at her. The light of her lantern had revealed a lot already, like her short stature and the patches on her clothes, but now he could see that the source of the smell was small flowers stuck to the top of her hat. The baggy thing covered most of her hair, but what few strands were poking out told him it was light and mostly grey.

Her head snapped back up. "And your legs? I didn't see you limping."

He opened his mouth to respond, then hesitated. Something had caught his eye. At the edge of her face, running down from her jaw across her neck, were tattoos. Greenish-blue tattoos that looked… Carathiliarian.

"Cat got your tongue?"

"Ah, I was only cut at the back of my right calf. They mostly missed it, though, so it's probably unnecessary-" Before he'd even finished speaking, she had kneeled down and pulled up that tattered edge of his pants.

How did a foreigner get Carathiliarian tattoos? I assumed they would sooner die than allow someone who wasn't their own to wear them.

And how was this ointment of hers supposed to do anything?

"I don't want to be rude, but what is this supposed to do? I've heard of poultices that can help speed up recovery, but if they're already infected…"

She didn't respond immediately, so he continued to wonder. Was she a mage? A healer of some sort? Tentatively, he slipped a bit of mana out and 'prodded' her with it.

"You won't find anything there." She didn't even look up at him. "I'm no mage."

"My apologies, Ms. Hyacinthia, I was just curious."

She finally stood up again and wiped her hands on a cloth. "I'm surprised you could manipulate any mana at all with that blade hanging on your back."

"The scabbard nullifies its effects to a degree."

Wait, how had she-

"That should just about do it." She closed the container and returned it to the mantlepiece. "And to answer your question, no, it isn't a mere poultice. If you'd been sliced up a bit less viscously, or I'd found you before the infection had begun, then maybe it would've sufficed. Now?" She shook her head. "Now all you need is rest like your friend, so the healing process can begin. And also because you look like a walking corpse. Here."

She threw something at him, and he caught it instinctively. He stared at the flower bulb.

"What is-"

It exploded in a puff of spores and dust. Everything went dark.

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