Alleria's sleep was free of dreams and memories. In other words, it was complete bliss, and she couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so comfortable and at peace. Which immediately set off warning bells in the back of her mind the moment she began regaining consciousness. Roots in her back and dirt for a bed did not a good sleep make. And what she was feeling was absolutely neither of those.

Her hand was at her sheath before her eyes had even opened. The blade was half drawn by the time she got to her feet. Her eyes were blasted with light, and her nose overloaded with foreign smells to the point where she couldn't understand the words being shouted at her.

Danadrian jumped in front of her, waving his arms. "Hey, hey, Alleria, calm down. Everything is fine, we're fine, just- just pulled your blade out, you might break something."

She blinked. "Danadrian?"

"Yes, it's me."

She blinked again, then looked around. "Where… are we?"

It looked like they were inside a cottage. A tiny, cramped cottage, littered with garbage and detritus. She looked at the bed of… moss? There was no way that had been the otherworldly comfort she'd been feeling.

"And what's that smell?"

"That would be our host." He stepped aside and gestured across the room. An old lady, dressed in robes with a floppy hat, was sitting beside the fireplace with a pan in hand. "Alleria, this is Yulia Hyacinthia. Ms. Hyacinthia, this is Alleria Elevar, whom you already knew."

The old lady- Yulia- turned to face her. "Greetings to you, Alleria, daughter of Anaderia. You seem well-rested; either that or your reflexes are the stuff of legends. And since you are decidedly not a legend, I've concluded that it's the former."

She opened her mouth, then spun back to Danadrian. He rubbed the back of his head.

"Yes, she's like that all the time."

"No, I- what happened to you?"

His cloak was gone, and without it, she could see that the shredded remains of his arms, what should have been the shredded remains of his arms, were instead a series of scars that had a green tinge to them. One look at his chest told her that it was the same there as well.

"Ms. Hyacinthia healed me-"

"That much I figured out."

"-though she's no healer, at least not the kind I know of. She's not a mage either, I checked. She almost saved my life, I guess."

She gripped his arm tightly. "You had better explain yourself quickly."

So she stood there and listened to his retellings of the night before, from the arrival of Yulia in the night to him carrying her to the cottage and getting knocked unconscious by powder.

"You just followed a stranger into the woods in the dead of night? When you hit your head, did you dislodge the smart part of your brain?"

"I was barely awake as it was, and carrying you didn't help. Besides, she gave me her word that no harm would come to us."

"And you believed her? An old lady in the woods, a foreigner at that; it's the start of some of my least favourite childhood stories. No offence."

Their host didn't seem offended, nor did she react to being addressed. She hadn't added anything throughout Danadrian's retelling either. Instead, she continued to tend to the fire and eventually withdrew the pan to reveal the source of the smells.

"Breakfast, you two, if you're done arguing like a married couple."

Eggs. Mushrooms. Tomatoes. Fried bacon. It was the most beautiful thing Alleria had ever seen. Any immediate qualms she had with their mysterious benefactor vanished as she sat down at the small table immediately, followed by a grumbling Lightbringer.

"Well, that certainly got your attention. Judging by your reaction, I assume that it's been a while since you had a healthy meal."

"It has been a while since we had any meal," Danadrian responded as he began to devour his plate with as much fervour as she was. She wasn't paying attention to him, though; all her focus was on the meal in front of her. That wasn't to say she wasn't being cautious; her gaze was constantly shifting between her plate and the old lady.

"If I wanted to poison you, I would've done it already and wouldn't've bothered with your friend."

"You could be lulling us into a sense of false security, so the Demon Hunters outside have an easier time."

She eyed the food, which was vanishing at an alarming rate. "If that were the case, I'd pat myself on the back for a job well done. You are paranoid, aren't you? Then again, I can hardly fault you for it."

"Being paranoid is what's kept me alive this long." She wiped her mouth with a sleeve. "And you? You're not afraid of me?"

Yulia actually laughed when she said that, snorting and covering her mouth in a poor attempt to hide it.

"Afraid? My dear, the only thing about you that scares me is whatever sleep schedule you've decided to run on. As far as I can tell, you have been cutting it close, even for Demons, which says a lot. Let me guess… you suffered a bad injury recently? Had to heal it on the go?"

Alleria blinked and answered despite herself. "I broke both my legs, practically shattered the bones in them. Danadrian had to carry me."

She snapped her fingers. "Right. And since then, you've been having minimal, low-quality sleep."

"Low quality, yes. Minimal… I wouldn't call it minimal. I took as many shifts asleep as I could."

She turned to Danadrian, who nodded. "I can second that. It wasn't the greatest, but she must have been asleep for quite a while after-"

He cut himself off at the mention of the Void spell. Yulia didn't even acknowledge it.

"I know what I saw, Danadrian. I'm surprised you couldn't see it yourself. She looked just about ready to collapse on the ground. Add to it however many wounds she was processing and healing, and her heart was probably in just as much danger as you were."

He began arguing with her, but Alleria didn't see what the point was. She knew the look of someone who had their opinion and refused to back down from it. Danadrian ought to look in the mirror more often if he were to ever get used to seeing it.

She took the time to look around the room. It was small, cramped even, and with all manner of objects strewn about. Jars, glass and porcelain, flowers, and even crystals. She dared a glance back at Yulia.

Old woman. Hermit? She has Carathiliarian tattoos. A healer?

They'd denied that she was, but who could deny the state of Danadrian's body after only one evening? If she wasn't a mage, then explain that? And the colour around his scars was so obviously magical that she could find no explanation other than she was lying and he was mistaken.

Except…

Their gazes met. Her amber eyes met green.

She Blinked.

Her vision warped. No, the world warped, shifting and flowing like all the solids had become liquid. Something was moving at the edge of her vision, but no matter how many times she turned, she could never see it fully. She saw lines, connections between the mundane objects, leading somewhere else, somewhere just out of sight.

Her stomach was doing somersaults, and her inhaling of breakfast hadn't helped.

"Alleria, what's the matter?"

Danadrian grabbed her shoulder, and she spun around.

"Gah!"

She jerked her head away. It was so- he was so bright. She felt like she was looking directly into the Sun on a cloudless day. It burned.

She was definitely going to be sick. With nowhere else to look, she landed once again on the old lady. She hadn't so much as inched away from her chair; instead, she just watched her with a bemused expression.

"Fascinating, isn't it? The first time I experienced it, I puked up at least three meals' worth immediately. I'm impressed you haven't, though I will just chalk that up to your Demon anatomy."

"What-what is this?"

"You tell me, Alleria Elevar. What is it you found when you mimicked me?"

The world around her continued to swirl. Danadrian's head was snapping between the two of them, and she thought hard about it. She'd been so distracted by… well, everything, that she hadn't stopped to realise what she had found.

The word played at the tip of her tongue. She remembered it now. A distant and imprecise memory of a book she'd read in haste and not even bothered to finish. A copy in the Common Tongue of a text well-known in the interior of the continent.

'Ilknair Nuaith an-batar'

'Regarding the Witches of Loromire'

"You're a witch."

The feeling and experience that had been the witch sapped away from her, and the world returned to normal. Unfortunately, her stomach did not, so she immediately sat down and held onto it, and her undigested food for dear life. Yulia just chuckled.

"Well, so you do know. I was beginning to worry that neither of you knew. It would take all the fun out of the game to spell it out for you."

Danadrian was still standing behind her and making no attempts to hide his confusion. He kept looking between them both, perhaps wondering if this was some sort of joke that he wasn't getting.

"What is… I've never heard of a witch before. Alleria, are you alright? What happened to you?"

She shot him a thumbs-up before clenching her stomach again. Just breathe. In and out. In and out.

The mysterious Yulia, or rather, Witch Yulia, raised an eyebrow. "You have never heard of us? You know, I was beginning to wonder if our reputation was waning, but I had no idea it was this bad."

She was finally regaining control of her stomach without sacrificing her breakfast, and so managed to straighten her back again. "Witches. Otherwise known as manaless mages, though I have heard that many take offence at that term."

She folded her arms. "And since I'm reasonable, I won't take offence. This time."

"Manaless mage?" Danadrian leaned his hands against the table. "That… that doesn't make any sense. It's like calling someone an armless warrior, or a mute bard. Manipulating mana-"

"Is the very definition of what makes a mage, I know," she finished his sentence. "And before you ask, no, I don't know how they work; nobody does except them. I got bored reading the book I found on them because it was mostly theories and hearsay without a speck of evidence or sources to back it up."

Yulia sniffed. "As is so often the case. Outsiders always attempt to categorise us without having even a speck of understanding."

"How would you describe yourself, then?"

"A witch is a witch. That is the only part of a witch you can be certain about. We are not mages, and to call us manaless mages no less is a grave insult that more powerful witches than eye would curse you for."

Alleria stared at her hard, then turned to Danadrian, who had done the exact same. Through just expressions alone, they shared their thoughts to one another.

That might have made me understand her less. Tell me you have a better explanation.

Hardly. If she starts talking about writing in the stars and crystals, we should haul ourselves out of here.

"If you- if witches, are not mages, then what is it you practice?" Danadrian asked. "Alchemy? You healed my wounds that, by your own admission, would have killed me without magical assistance, so how do you explain that as, in fact, not the work of magic? Witchcraft?"

She nodded. "Witchcraft is a broad term that encompasses many aspects of what it means to be a witch. Alchemy is one of those aspects. Many witches practice alchemy, but I wouldn't say that all witches are alchemists, in the same way that not all alchemists are witches. Very few are."

"And your healing?"

"The balm encouraged your wounds to close and the infection to leave, at the cost of your energy and appetite. And my stores of it."

Alleria rubbed her eyes. "Encouraged?"

"Correct. Tell me, Alleria, what exactly did you see when you used your sorcery on me?"

"I… the world was a mess, it was like I was high on shrooms. The world was a tangled mess of colours and lines, lines connecting everything around me." Danadrian eyed her. "And when I looked at him… it was like I was staring into the Sun itself. It was blinding."

Yulia simply nodded. "His Soul is bright, brighter than any I have ever seen. How do you think I found you both in the middle of the night? He's like a bonfire, you know?"

"My Soul?" He put a hand on his chest. "You could- you can see my Soul?"

"In a way. I can see a reflection of who you are, Danadrian. It is the crux of what makes a witch a witch, besides being a witch, of course."

Wait, we know this.

"How is this possible? I thought only Seekers, practitioners of Spirit Magic, could do that."

She snapped her fingers. "That's it, I knew I had read it somewhere." Both of them turned to her. "In a book, I mean."

"Go figure."

She shot him a glare and continued. "You're not looking at our Souls, or not just looking at our Souls. You're peering into the place where the reflections of who we are present, where our minds and Souls are tangible. Where mana comes from. You can see into the Magos Realm?"

Yulia smiled. "You are well-read on this world's magic. The Magos Realm isn't even present in Demagain, at least not in as great a degree as Andwelm. And in regard to mana, well, your people have none. How is it you have such a well-versed understanding of it?"

"I… read about it. As you can tell, I take reading to a somewhat manic degree."

It wasn't a lie; most of it was true. But only half the truth. The only half she had the heart to say aloud.

"Magos Realm?"

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Alleria frowned at him. And Danadrian?

Danadrian's brain was overloading with all the new information being sent his way.

Manaless mages? Witches? Sure, that makes sense. Well, it doesn't but I can understand that I don't understand it. Looking at my Soul? Fine, good. I am… glad that there is something to look at.

He touched the edge of his cheek, where a single cut, the only cut on his body that hadn't been healed, still festered.

But the 'Magos Realm'? The place where mana comes from? This all seems like vital information that I would've benefited from knowing. And besides that, for what reason would I lose this sort of knowledge? Aspects of it concerning my Angelic nature? Spite?

He bit his tongue, even though the words had not left his mouth. There was no spite; Mayare did not spite her followers. It was simply another aspect of his punishment he hadn't even known to exist.

He was spiralling, and Alleria was staring at him again. Both of them were, in fact.

"I've never heard of the Magos Realm before."

Her frown lessened somewhat with understanding. Yulia looked incredulous, making it the first emotion he'd seen on her face that wasn't confidence or her being mysterious and coy.

"Never before? At all?"

"I- uh… no. Should I have?"

"It's only the basis of all magic; even the Wizards of Talfandil," she accentuated each word with her fingers, "spend at least a year teaching their apprentices about the Magos Realm. It's basic magical theory."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, I did say I wouldn't consider myself a mage."

"I thought that was due to a lack of confidence, boy, not a lack of understanding." She sighed and straightened her hat.

"So, you see into this… Magos Realm. That doesn't explain how you do the things you do without magic, without manipulating mana. I mean, it can't be magic without that, can it?"

Her frown deepened at the same time as Alleria tried to subtly shake her head.

"Magic. Mages." She said each word like it was a curse. "Thousands of years ago, mages and wizards alike coopted the word magic to describe what they did, and nothing else. What do you think magic meant before that, boy? Huh?"

She was challenging him on information and details he didn't have. Even if he had his memories, he somehow doubted he could give her an answer that was satisfactory.

"Before that, a painter crafting the most beautiful visage of their mind's creation was considered magical. Inventors and artisans who made breakthroughs never before thought possible were considered practitioners of magic. The work of the Gods was considered magical."

"I think I understand what she's saying." Alleria was frowning, clearly focused. "Demon sorcery, by most widely used definitions, isn't magic, and yet what do you call it when we forge creations out of thin air, or lay curses upon our enemies? Is that not-"

He could barely make out what else she said, because Yulia was going on a tirade now, with more energy than he thought someone her age could muster.

She rose from her seat and reached into her pocket.

"What is this, if not magic?"

She slammed a crystal down against the wood, and it exploded. Dust swirled out like a storm. Danadrian and Alleria flinched and looked away, but the storm of dust didn't subside. If anything, it grew greater, stronger. He blinked, expecting dust to hit his eyes, but instead found nothing. When he opened them wider, he breathed in quickly.

The table, the cottage, even his chair, were like a distant memory, far off and incomplete. All he could see was colour around them. Swirling colours that, while similar to the iridescent power of mana, were different. Not as a stable, if that was even a way to describe it. It felt… primordial.

Something different. A practice older than magic itself.

The colours began settling until all he could see was a deep cyan blue. Then, Yulia's voice cut through the vortex.

"The wizards of the modern day call it Divination. Fate. The uninformed and wilfully ignorant call it prophecy. But before that, long before that, we witches knew the art. We were the first to gaze into the unknown and know what was and what will be."

The vortex shimmered. A line burst from it and latched itself onto Alleria. She staggered and tried to rip it away, but her hand went straight through it. They both looked up and saw the dust particles in the air shift and change, forming an image.

He saw the outline of a figure drawing their blade as riders on horseback approached. It shifted again, and the riders were dead to the man, with none even breaching the circle around the figure. It changed again, and the dusty form was restrained, bound by chains that they were vehemently resisting, before a blade swung down to cut their bonds.

Finally, the figure… split, briefly becoming two, before they stabbed their blade into the sand and turned away.

"See what we see, Daughter of Anaderia, Child of Cadmus, Descendant of Elevar."

Then she turned to him, and his insides clenched up immediately. When the strand of sand touched down on him, he didn't flinch or resist. The vision before them vanished into the swirling cloud around them. He waited for the sand to breathe a new image to life.

Instead, the bunched-up dust began to coalesce, first slowly, then faster and faster, more of it than he thought possible, bottling up into a tiny speck before-

IT BURST.

His vision was blinded by Light. He was back in his chair. Alleria had staggered into hers. The cottage stilled, the lanterns slowing their shaking, and there was silence once again. The witch carefully lowered herself into her seat and took a sip of her tea, which was unspoiled.

"Well, that certainly wasn't what I was expecting, but again, part of being a witch is learning to never expect anything to go the way you planned." She lowered the cup. "You intrigue me, Danadrian. Almost enough to keep you around longer."

His mouth was figuring out how to work again. She smirked.

"Now the cat really has got your tongue, and in a vice grip no less. And you, my dear?"

Alleria was clearly trying to hide how much her hands and legs were shaking as she used her chair for support. She nodded. "I see now why the books never painted the perfect picture, ma'am. Having just seen your witchcraft firsthand, I'd also be hard-pressed to give a worthy description of it."

"Ha! You're good, my dear. Why, if you were Human, I would recommend you to politics, and you might even convince your adversaries that you believed some of the words coming out of your mouth. Ha!" She snorted and rubbed her nose. "My apologies, you both seem a bit worse for wear now, and so early in the morning too. I'll leave you to get your bearings again."

She rose and trotted off into one of the backrooms, closing the door behind her. After waiting a few seconds, Danadrian pushed his chair back and, once he was sure his legs wouldn't give out beneath him, wandered over to the door and pushed it open.

He breathed in the open air, took in the ambient background of the forest, and basked in the flickering rays of the Sun overhead. His heart finally stilled. He breathed in, then out again.

"You know, after fighting outnumbered against Demon Hunters, facing unknown magic spells and falling into the bowels of the earth itself, I almost deluded myself into thinking that nothing could shake or surprise me anymore."

Alleria plopped down on the ground beside him. Her hand, he realised, was holding onto the hilt of her sword for dear life, and given how red it was, had been the whole time.

"Couldn't have put it better myself."

Despite her well-articulated statement earlier, her voice was quieter, not nearly as confident.

"You're quite the actress, you know?"

"Thank you. I pride myself on it."

They stared off in silence for a while.

"Do you want to talk about what we saw?"

She took a while to respond.

"No. Not… not yet. Give me some time, please?"

She looked up to him when she asked. It was a request, a plea even.

Please. Anything else.

He nodded. "Fine by me. Besides, I was still wrapping my head around the source of all mana being something you could look into. And that was before the kindly old witch performed… well, that."

"I feel I can no longer refute or even argue any of the statements she makes. It's an odd feeling."

"Agreed."

Silence again for a moment.

"Would it be rude to leave? Right now?"

"She insisted on stitching some of my clothes back into somewhat usable condition. Plus, I don't really know where the road is anymore; this place looks completely different in the dark."

"…Damn. Well, there goes that plan."

He looked around. As he'd suspected last night, they were in a valley of sorts, nestled between several hills and the surrounding forest. The 'path' they had been following was little more than a set of tracks in the dirt.

"It could be a lot worse. For the time being, we have food, a place to rest, and a host that doesn't want to stick your head on a pitchfork. That she just so happens to be a witch of unknowable power is only one point against her."

Alleria rubbed her eyes. "That was the best sleep I've had in… too long. Fordain? The back of a cart isn't that comfortable."

"Nor are cheap inns," he added, thinking back to Tathlani. He frowned. "When we get to a town, do you think it would be possible to send a message to Velandus?"

"We could send a raven? Assuming he made it out of Tathlani in one piece, he'd have no idea we're alive. And he will only have made it out of Tathlani if he was able to give the Degormanus the slip."

"That is good. Assuming he bought himself a new cart, it would certainly beat walking. I'm surprised I haven't lost all feeling in my legs by now."

Alleria chuckled. "Spoken like someone who's definitely not used to using his feet all the time. Is the ground too inconvenient for Angelica?" she added quietly.

"You have never truly lived until you feel the wind in your hair, the weightlessness in your body, and see the trees and hills as a distant memory beneath you." He smiled as the wind brushed against his face. "Maybe one day I'll take you up there to show you. Or you could ask Yulia. She surely has a concoction for that, though I would ask about how to get down beforehand."

That got a full laugh out of her.

. . .

Apparently, Yulia had been lying when she had given them breakfast, because it had in fact been around lunchtime by the time they had both woken up to eat. He assumed it was their bodies' reaction to finally being in a hospitable and comfortable space for the first time in weeks. That, and being bombed to sleep with what he now took to be more witchcraft. Either one would have done it.

And despite their inclinations, neither Alleria nor he were in any true rush to leave. He meant it when he said that the mysterious and now-intimidating witch was a single point against her, and there were more than enough positives to make up for it.

Such as bathing. She led them to a natural spring nearby that led into a stream, which she used for both water and bathing. Needless to say, they took no time in taking her up on the offer, though they nearly came to blows over who would go first. When Yulia had offered a solution to their problem, he immediately conceded it to Alleria and waited his turn.

When he did get his turn, he felt like he was washing away weeks' worth of grime and worry. Probably because he actually was and was only comfortable with that fact because Yulia had insisted that they bathe downstream.

When he finished his vicious scrubbing down, he found Alleria sitting on a nearby log that had been carved into a bench. She was wearing a baggy set of clothes that definitely didn't fit her. Her hair was still wet, so he assumed she was drying it out.

He sat down beside her. "New clothes?"

"I'm borrowing them until she finishes stitching mine. I don't know how she plans to do it. I wasn't sure there was much left to stitch, but I've decided it would be wiser not to ask questions."

"Good choice. I assume she'll be after me soon as well then." He was still wearing his half-torn, half-rag clothes. "You don't think witches can actually use their craft to mend clothes faster, do you?"

She shrugged. "Honestly, it would be less than I'd expect at this point, and if we've learned anything, if it makes no logical sense, a witch could probably pull it off."

"A witch is a witch. How was the spring?"

"Better than I'd expected. I feel refreshed." She turned and looked him over. "You look good. I think your skin has lightened a few shades. And I can finally smell you and not want to tear my nose off."

He blushed. "Was it really that bad? You could have said something."

"And I'd be called a hypocrite for it. I wanted to tear my nose off every time I smelt myself. Surely it was the same for you."

"It's uncouth to talk about such things," he muttered with a sniff. "Even if I felt the exact same way."

Yulia returned not long after to bring Alleria her clothes. He gave her some space to get changed, at which time his predictions came true and the old witch demanded his own rags so that she could 'renew' them. In their place, he was given a set of old and worn clothes that were definitely made for someone of a different build and gender. He honestly could have done without the laughter when Alleria saw him, and her own state of dress didn't help.

Her cloak had been deemed too far gone for repair, so she was now going without it. Her tunic had been patched together with fabric so similar in colour that he had to squint to make out the lines, with the only sacrifice being her sleeves, which were now shorter. Her trousers were much the same, though the bottom half had been entirely redone, now much wider and looser.

With the sword at her waist, he would have taken her for an average adventurer searching for glory and riches if he ignored the obvious horns on her head. He told her as much, and a smile played on her lips.

"Did you know, this is the longest I've gone without having to hide them since I left Demagain? It's freeing, feeling the wind in my hair and letting them breathe. Much better than a hat or hood."

Somehow, Yulia didn't have a single hat in her house besides the one resting on her head. She'd said something about the sanctity of a witch's hat, but he hadn't caught all of it.

Thankfully, it didn't take long for her to return with his clothes. His cloak had somehow been pieced back together, and even though it was noticeably lighter, he saw it as an improvement. The plain tunic that Velandus had given him in Fordain had been so utterly torn to shreds that now it looked almost unrecognisable. The beige fabric was now lighter, closer to white, with a stripe of brown along the waist. His pants, like the cloak, were now lighter and patched back together.

There was one other change to his cloak, a change he hadn't even noticed until putting it on. When he asked Yulia about it, she just cast him a mischievous eye.

"I just thought that, since you're so predisposed to wearing it, why not wear it openly and proudly, hm?"

The part of the cloak that had often covered his upper chest and neck was pulled back more, exposing him. It also, coincidentally, exposed the spot where he most often attached his brooch. Now the symbol of the Light sat there openly, for the world to see. No doubt Alleria would protest, and it did do away with subtlety and secrecy.

He didn't mind.

"You should consider purchasing a new one when you have both the time and the gold. My repairs and alterations cannot replace missing fabric, and if you two keep at it the way you have been, the stitches might just evaporate one day."

"Do I… want to ask how you managed to do all this in only a few hours?"

Yulia smiled and patted him on the cheek. "I fear you don't have the stomach for it, dear boy. Besides, grey doesn't suit you. I'd suggest forest green, especially if you're keen on travelling through more of the forest while maintaining… anonymity. It would better match your scabbard as well."

At the mention of his sword, she reminded him of something. "Before… you call my blade Anamagos. Do you know what it is?"

Alleria perked up from where she was sitting, and Yulia gave him a curious and rather inquisitive look before responding.

"Anamagos Iron. It is a powerful ore that exerts a push effect on both natural mana and the mana used by people." She paused, frowning. "It is also not found naturally anywhere in the South-West. Which makes me all the more curious as to where you found it."

"Where can it be found naturally?"

"…The North. If you wanted to be more specific, the Far North, a distant land clouded in an eternal winter that, judging by your reaction, or lack thereof, you have never heard of before." She rubbed her chin. "Interesting."

Alleria stepped in beside him. "I know of the North, but only as a distant place beyond the Forest of the Marches. Even traders and travellers from those parts are rare here, rarer still along the coast."

"The Marches are a treacherous place, and to journey that far is dangerous for even the most prepared. I have only met one witch in my entire life who came from the North itself. She found these lands to be stiflingly hot and humid, but I'm going off topic." She turned back to him. "You would do well to keep that sword of yours safe, dear boy. It might very well be worth a small city's worth in gold."

That made his heart jump. Brilliant, now he was aware that he was carrying something that could bankrupt towns on his back for the world to see. This would lead him down a path of truly Alleria-level paranoia.

"And what if I said I know it by a different name?" Alleria glanced at him sharply, but he kept going, "Magosian Jian. Yulia, do the 'Zhao Torag' mean anything to you?"

The witch went still. Then her frown vanished, and she began laughing.

"You two, you two are interesting. I believe it's been more than both your lifetimes since someone mentioned the Zhao Torag to me. Hah."

That probably isn't accurate, but she wouldn't know that.

"So you know- so witches know of them?"

"Oh yes, in some circles we do. We pass any knowledge we have to our apprentices, and they to theirs, in an unbroken chain. We know things that scholars and historians only dream of knowing."

Alleria frowned. "Then why don't you tell them? If you have so much knowledge, why hasn't it been shared, or written down?"

She waved her hand. "Because they never think to ask us, my dear. And it is not within most witches to go around offering it up on a silver platter. A witch is a witch."

"But you." She looked up at him. "You intrigue me, Danadrian, you really do. If we had more time, I would've loved to pick your brain to pieces, figure out what makes you tick." She sighed, "Alas, it would seem your path takes you other places."

He wanted to ask her what she meant by 'your path' and pick her brain until he was able to understand what she was saying beyond all the cryptic words and mysterious metaphors.

Instead, he bowed his head. "I don't know how we can ever repay you. We are in your debt."

She chuckled and waved him away. "Please, never tell a witch you're in her debt. There are many who would take you up on it."

Before they left, she gave them one more gift. Food. His backpack was now full of apples, sandwiches, and dried meat, enough to keep them well-fed until they found the nearest village, which apparently was only a few days away, perhaps a week of walking.

She also decided to lead them back to the road herself, which internally he was grateful for, because the idea of getting lost in the Crynmon wasn't appealing to him, but outwardly he protested.

"No, no, please," she waved his concerns away. "I'm not a cripple, I can walk you back to the road. Besides… there is another matter in the forest that concerns me, so I will be heading out anyway."

Surprisingly, she didn't lead them out along the same path they'd entered the valley along. Instead, they exited on the opposite side, and she began leading them through the forest without a word. He hadn't noticed it last night, but she was quite quick on her feet, despite her age.

"Did we go this way last time?"

He shook his head. "No, but it was the middle of the night, and I was more preoccupied with making sure I didn't drop you."

"Thanks," Alleria replied in a dry voice.

"The road you were following turns not far from where you were," Yulia shouted back at them. "If I take you this way, you'll be farther down it than before."

"And you need to go this way anyway, right?"

"Naturally, so this is to both our advantages."

They continued walking for a while, exchanging the last few bits of conversation with the witch. Alleria in particular ran up to talk with her quietly, and Danadrian didn't catch everything, but the words 'Demon' and 'witch' came up a lot. Which meant they could be talking about anything.

Eventually, Yulia slowed and let them walk ahead of her.

"If you head straight and don't deviate, you'll find the road in no time. I have other matters to attend to."

Danadrian bowed his head. "Once again I thank you for your hospitality, Ms. Hyacinthia. We will not forget it."

Surprisingly, Alleria also lowered her head. "Thank you. If I'm ever in the area again, I hope I may pay you a visit. If I can still find the way, that is."

The witch smiled and waved her hand. "You two are adorable. Anytime, my dears, anytime."

They turned away and continued walking in the direction she'd pointed.

"I didn't know you had it in you to be so respectful."

Alleria jabbed him with her elbow. "Old magic notwithstanding, she made a good impression and was kind to us. It's not often you find a Human who doesn't despise you for who you are."

"I suppose so. I did not think you would bow to her."

"I'm nice like that."

Behind them, Yulia continued walking through the brush, handily stepping over roots and twisting around trees. To the birds flapping overhead, she didn't look like she was going in any direction at all. She'd turn left, head straight, before cutting right and going backwards again.

She was muttering to herself, and after a while, she reached into her pockets and pulled out her spectacles again. Once they were on, she peered around the forest and saw nothing out of the ordinary, not even a leaf out of place.

She scratched her forehead, sighed, and began taking them off again.

Then she paused, and instead of looking up and around, looked down.

"Ah. Of course."

She stepped around a bush. There, lying face down on the ground, was a man. His armour was battered and broken in places, his helmet lost. Chains were scattered around him, and a single sword was stabbed into the dirt, with his hand still holding onto it. Blood was pooling out beneath him, staining the edges of his grey hair red.

And yet Brakenus Ulvargen kept breathing. Kept holding onto life, as he slipped in and out of consciousness.

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