For the first time in a long time, Eli fell asleep, dreamed, and learned to fear all over again.

He was standing on flatlands, toes pressed into soft ankle-high grass. It was dark, and the only light was a painterly calm, blood-red, pulsating from his neck.

And then he saw it. Eyes in the sky, moon-sized, humming, peering down at him without a word. Veins thick as trees wreathed the sclera. Irises shined a bright hazel.

He took a step back, but the eyes followed.

He turned his head, and the eyes followed.

He looked down, but the eyes followed.

Always, everywhere. He closed his eyes, but all he saw in the black of his lids was a floor of yellow—those eyes.

It warbled with a horrid power, flesh rumbling, as hard as packed earth. He tried to scream, but he couldn't make a sound. The eyes ballooned, slowly covering the whole horizon and cast the field in ghostly silver light.

It was about to swallow him - then he woke up, sweaty, throat sore. The gem on the back of his neck stung.

"We'll be there soon. I'll get you a good ale." Mara sat on a log, the soldier's sword on her waist and his buckler on her back. She'd been scratching an ornate, triangular symbol into the wooden face of the shield. They also found a lute, which now sat wayside. In-between carving sessions, she picked at her fingernails.

Eli shivered from a chill. "What the fuck was that? I thought I didn't sleep. I thought we don't sleep."

Mara laughed. "You didn't trust her, did you?" She pulled out a long ribbon from her pouch, lifted her hair into a bun, and let her bangs fall lazy onto her cheeks. Purple shards stuck out the back of her head, sharp flakes, prismatic, and fin-like. Yet, unlike the other stones infecting her, these were sharp and translucent, clear as fine glass, festered with veins. She finished tying her hair, and with deep breaths and closed eyes, slowly pushed the shards into the back of her head, letting it melt into her flesh.

"Is she watching us?"

"Watching you. I haven't had the dream in a while, but it's all the same. Eyes from the sky, watching an animal, like a pet, and it doesn't end until she wakes you up." She took a swig from her flask. "But you slept for a long time. She must've been curious. Or doesn't trust you."

Eli had two questions, but one of them he knew was pointless. He asked the other. "Can we communicate with her?"

"You can try. She never responds to me; it's all eyes and watching." Mara had a look of pity. "Did you trust her?"

Eli responded with a snarl. "Should I trust you?"

Mara smiled with pride. "That's a good boy. These people aren't your people, Eli. They won't understand you, and you won't understand us. We grew and died without you; you being here won't change anything. Nothing jumping over from the gate'll change anything."

"But I'd like to! I want to! I've been here for who knows how long, and I don't know much of anything here! Everyone's speaking in riddles, and with words I don't understand, and it fucking freaks me out!" His hands fell into his lap.

The air was still and hostile. An uninviting bite swirled around them. Mara said nothing, not because she hadn't anything to say, but chose not to.

However, a thought, stray as anything else, tugged at him, and he couldn't help but let slip, "Is there a way out?"

Mara didn't hesitate. "Suicide."

"Does it work?"

"I don't know."

"Then why suicide?"

"That's the way out; dying free."

"Have you considered 'dying free'?"

"I try not to consider dying at all."

"Not once?"

Mara frowned at the question. "Once, not anymore."

"Why not?"

Mara stoked the fire. Dullness fell over her. She went back to picking her nails. "I was to take over our abbey many years ago. The head priest, good man, he was getting up there. Too old. So we convened, and on his deathbed, he tells me to keep my faith." She paused as if to recollect, but it seemed more like she was thinking. "And I think that faith means I need to stay true, right? No suicides." Her fingers were jittering. She refused to make eye contact with Eli.

"He told you to stay the course? That's it?" Eli felt that Mara was much moodier since learning about the disease's similarity to the Spanish Flu. Though it was but a few days since they found the body, there'd been a noticeable distance between the two of them. Recently she'd stare off into the space with a vacant stare.

They still hadn't spoken about the disease. Was it Spanish Flu? And if it wasn't, why did it look so similar? Did he forget somehow or something? How did it get here? It was supposed to be Pat and him. Something felt off.

Eli broke the silence. "Spanish Flu isn't from my time."

"It doesn't matter where it came from." She snapped. "It's running roughshod. We stick to the plan, get to Loweight, get to the Bottom, and we figure it out from there. Wait for orders." She got up and wrapped a shorn scrap of dress around her waist, sheathed the sword and shoved it into the sash, and slung the shield over her shoulder. "You'll need to learn how to fight. That display back at the farmstead worries me. If we're going last in this stretch of the world, I'll need you to at least defend yourself proper."

Eli wanted to frown, to shake his head and point and tell her she's avoiding the question. But he didn't. Perhaps it was the fire, painting shadows on her cheeks or flashing a bite of light in her eyes. He laughed, as hollow and rigid as any laugh he made before, and he hoped that Mara would be kind enough. "Why didn't I just rip him apart?" Eli looked at his hands. "I thought I had the strength to do it..."

She smiled. "A battle isn't just throwing as much muscle as you can. The man disoriented you, distracted you, and made you forget you had that power. A trained soldier will find ways to handle you, even if you're a walking weapon. That's why Liassus' rendezvous will be tasked to teach you."

"Teach me...swordsmanship?"

"Hopefully a martial art. I don't know. But at this moment, I'll keep watch over you, my little boy. Keep close, and don't wander."

Passion welled in Eli's body. Martial arts!

After a few hills and bridges, they merged onto a wide stone-paved road, a pilgrim's way peppered with tiny, colourful trinkets and other tidings. Lined with alms of sashes, ashes, apples, and succour, the pilgrim's path was surrounded by colour. And then Eli fell to his knees, for he saw the feet of Loweight: massive toes, shattered and cracked at its ankles, carved out of some golden mountain. Hovels sloped up its worn surface, leather and fur tents hidden in the shadows of the foil brambles which crowned it. It dwarfed everything: even the stately manor on the plateau deigned to the feet, a single toe larger than any house, and its shattered ankles spilled with limestone as white blood. At times, Eli would feel the pang, the smell of the fresh air, and let his skin shiver as Liassus' magic danced in his muscles, but here, now, he truly felt he was in another world.

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His eyes didn't linger on the feet for long; a plume of dust rushed from the road. What caused it was a giant bull, bigger than any pickup truck he'd ever seen, with horns fat as calves and legs girdled in muscle. Though muzzled, the bull's swift exhales slapped the ground, and dust and dirt whirled around them. Sat atop a saddle of grass-green bronze in a plate as craggy as mossy stone was a knight, crown-helmet half-hewn from the blade of some forgotten noble's battle-axe. Spears formed spokes of a wheel fastened to a harness that wrapped around his arms. On each spoke, scaley-beaked crows ruffled gowns of feathers as big as Eli's hand. Even off the grey overcast, their watchful eyes formed a speckled rainbow ring around the wheel.

"Halt!" He growled through the black of his helm, "Yer not part of my convoy, what brings two travellers, unmarked and wardless, to Loweight?"

Mara pinched Eli's hand. "To Loweight? Oh come, Ser Revenant, my companion and I are merely two priest-errants on our way from Aura to Northrow to the Silver Cathedral." Mara bowed gracefully at the knight.

"You call yerself priest-errants, but that shield on your back is no less the sigil of old Ardalvsil. I hadn't seen priests, errant or not, who'd stoop to graverobbing."

"Old Ardalvsil?"

In a flash, the Revenant drew his blade and pointed it at Mara. It sang a beautiful tune. "Speak truthfully, and don't play me for a fool, woman, or I'll cut your tongue out."

"Would a knight of the old tide do such a thing to a lass such as I, virtuous above all? Will you risk cutting down an Ordox priest?"

His head tilted.

"Oh, yes, ser Revenant. I *am* a priest-errant, and would your Swamp's honour tolerate killing a woman of virtue true?"

The Revenant looked up and down at Mara. "And who is the man beside you?"

"A mute boy from my company, a servant who helped us before we were caught by highwaymen. And while it was a shock to fend off the bandits, we did, at the loss of my protectors. All I have left is him and him alone." She patted Eli on the shoulder. "I would like to keep him."

"Oknokarohm, Primkrakrodril." The blade now pointed at Eli.

"Primkrakrodril olumkadakara Imukirikaram." Mara shook her head.

The Revenant lowered his sword and bowed his head. "If you're who you say you are," he looked at Mara up and down once more, "then I apologize, Eastsister. The roads are quiet today, but many pilgrims have come and gone, and too many of them are of a questionable lot. Though," he dismounted, and even off the back of his massive bull, he dwarfed both Eli and Mara, "I've given you my trust, could you give me yours?"

Mara's jaw twitched for a second. "We're priest-errants, not out of Aura, but a tiny village on the banks of the Rol. I ran a small abbey but left when smoke knights assailed us. We sought refuge, but having lived deeply far away from the pilgrim's road, we found ourselves lost."

"You've my sympathies, but smoke knights? Attacking faithful? Yer eyes are failing, Eastsister."

"My eyes did not mistake that foil of silver-green, not even when they first came and sang fire from their fingers and turned all my children to cinders."

The Revenant shook his head. "Aaaaah, that's gruesome. Forgive my rudeness. We've no news of the Witch-Empress reneging the Marigold Concordat, but if smoke knights are running rampant because of the chaos in the mage-realm, then that news would have to go to my lords at once. Are you certain, on vow and surety, smoke knights, not bandits or mummery, attacked yer village?"

"I swear, on Ordox, I...you mentioned a Witch-Empress. Who's that?"

"Ah, you haven't been out of the village long, Eastsister." The Revenant sighed. "The Ardalian realm is at war right now. Emperor Radan is dead, and the Fire Witch has taken over."

Mara's eyes widened. "Radan's dead?"

"Sick with pox, end of Solitude. Many say he's lost the mandate, and it was only natural that the realm'd be rent asunder. But come, we can speak of ill-whispers as we walk."

The Revenant bade them follow as they trekked the pilgrim's road to Loweight, and he filled them in on everything he knew: Radan's death, the Headmistress' eventual rise to Regent, and newest of all, Haron's victory at Daggersarry. "Word spreads fast with you crow-clerics," Mara told him. But even fast, they were rumours still: a motley crew defeated an alliance of brave soldiers. Women, children, elves, poor downcasts and half-drems, mutilated and weary, battered by wind and rain - against a charge of a thousand horsemen! It seemed too embellished to be true, but there were a few things that everyone agreed on: an alliance of Freemen worked miracles against trained men. A town shrouded in ash and flame. A field of yellow dill and snow-white riders made black alike by plume and powder. But the most striking was also the most puzzling. At the height of his victory, the rat-king didn't march the Ardalian highway to Ardalsalam; instead, he curled back to the Buckler to speak to Prince Liarus.

The pilgrims and the Revenant, much kinder and chattier than Mara and Eli assumed, weaved theories wise and wild alike: Haron will crown Liarus! Haron will imprison Liarus! Haron is working for Liarus!

It felt off to Eli. He knew Liarus was responsible for the attack on the village, but if Liarus was already gone and moving north, how long did it take Eli and Mara to reach the main road? How much time had passed? How much was frittered and wasted away on campfire musings and bathing in cold moonlight?

He had a heavy, sinking feeling. He hadn't done anything; he hadn't accomplished anything. All he did was sit and drink and run and talk, but was that it? He felt that shiver when he first saw the feet, far off and cast in steel gray fog, but was it indeed the sublime that caught him? Was it something else?

Mara had a similar concern: he could see it on her face, her far-off stares and deep frowns. Though her words bounced with jubilance, he noticed the small moments in the day where her facade would melt into worry. It was apparent when the Revenant left to keep watch over the pilgrims, as when he returned, she'd turn back into sunshine.

Neither Eli nor Mara hung onto those thoughts for long.

They finally reached Loweight.

It was a modest place, cozy, crossroads littered with thatched roofs, waist-high stone fences, half-built palisades, smoke carelessly swelling from three-man smithies as the clicking planks of warping waterwheels clapped to the tweets of gentle, brown-coated larks. As the roads slithered down to crowded docks, the jutting-trussed homes started to hug each other so tightly that they merged into mossy townhouses. The Revenant left them at the wooden gates, giving his word on Mara and Eli's good nature to the watchman. "I hope we meet one day again," he told Mara and Eli, "as I had a good trek, brief as it may be, with both of you." He held Mara's hand in his. "And eastsister, should you ever find yourself seeking the companionship of the Willows, please remember this Mercassus of Loweight."

Eli tried not to roll his eyes. Mara smiled. The two of them left Mercassus. She never gave him her name.

The Bowl's Bottom was the last house of the northernmost road, a gate to Ambright's waves of fall lavender. A former manor house roofed with red timber; it was so far from the rest of Loweight, covered in scratchy, chest-high markings. Muddied earth flanked a stone-paved walkway. A recessed garden in the front yard was peppered with young stalks. The path, beaten and cracked with hooves and greaves alike, led to a plain wooden door with a big ring doorbell.

Mara knocked. Muffled steps on shuffled slates soon followed, and what met them was a red-nosed fellow with cracked lips and a bloodied apron.

"I'm a traveller and a priest-errant, on my way to - "

"No need for yer story, madam priest." The man bowed with deep grace and respect. "I'll show ya where yer servant drop the bags."

"I've got none, but we seek lodging nonetheless."

"Alright, alright. Come in, come in."

Eli expected someplace more like an inn, with a lobby or a space. But the Bowl's Bottom was more of a large house, with the entryway leading to the back, lock-less doors on both sides. The man took them to a hearth, man-long and ringed in stone, wrapped in glazed ceramic, deep blue and simple. Embers flew like fireflies, still flickering with vigour from last night's fire. "Don't get many priests down in these parts, not since they all convened for the Council."

"I've not heard of such news. I come from quite far off." Mara sat down at the hearth. "What's this about a Council?"

"Aye, Duhl-Revenant Ithul's called for a council, right, on what to do with the Ardalians caught in war. All the abbeys from Aura to Northrow's joining, surprised you haven't heard. What parish ya from?"

"I've been in the woods." She spoke through somewhat gritted teeth, "I haven't heard from anyone on a council."

"Wait, what brings ya to Loweight, then?" The innkeeper asked. "You here to see the feet?"

"We've a friend, trying to get in contact with them."

The innkeeper frowned. "Ah, the elf. Yes, yes, I know of them. Most of the adventurers have gone east to find opportunity in the Vsil, and the knights have gone west because of the Council, so things have been quiet." He beckoned them upstairs. "Ones to come at this time, I remember, especially bog-birds."

He knocked on the door at the end of the hallway. A voice answered, "Come in."

Eli felt electricity run through his body. In front of him doing pushups was an elf, long ears up like horns, raven-haired, one eye shining like amber, another pale and milky white, arms lithe and supple, wreathed in suntanned muscle, legs long, grip strong, a stare that'd shatter steel. Red lips, knife-thin, sweat glistened down her smooth skin. She stood up and cast a long shadow, morning sunlight peering through the attic window.

"Does the name Imradir mean anything to you?" Mara asked.

"Nothing, but it does to my lady, Leanne of Aura. Does that mean anything to you?"

Mara smiled sarcastically but outstretched her hand. The elf grabbed her wrist, and they shook. "Mara, priest-errant, and this is my companion and soon-to-be bodyguard."

"Nara, Adams. I'm an adventurer, and I guess, trainer."

"Are you good with a blade?"

"Good enough for Commander Leanne to trust me and not you."

Mara refused to let the grip go.