After a pause, the mage forces out a thought she's held in since dinner. “Can I ask you a question you probably don't want to answer?”

“What is it?”

“Why were you looking at that child's cradle at dinner?”

The room falls deafeningly silent as she waits for an answer. His gaze drops towards the floor again. More and more seconds pass without a sound from Atticus, and Zyra begins to regret asking such a question. She wonders if she's gone too far, and if she's reached the limit of prying that the knight is willing to tolerate. However, feeling as though as he has nothing to hide from his comrade in this perilous journey, he speaks, low and somber.

“I... had a woman I loved, back in Threcia.” He begins a sudden confession that shocks Zyra immediately. Small, erratic pauses in his words reveal a deal of reluctance in talking about his past, but nevertheless, he proceeds. “Her name was Isabelle Wallenstein. I knew her since we were quite young, and she'd always been a passionate, smart person. She had long, dark hair that was soft to the touch. Her bright green eyes could mesmerize a wild animal with their striking vividness.”

Zyra notices a hint of near elation in his voice at the sheer recollection of Isabelle's beauty. His subtle expression of bliss is a face that she hadn't seen before until this very moment; it makes her feel envious, but she isn't sure in what way.

“By the time I had completed my training as a royal guard, we were madly in love. But she was a rather sickly girl, constantly bedridden throughout childhood.” His face suddenly grows grim, a stark contrast to how it was only a few seconds before. “Unfortunately, she soon came down with a terrible disease, called paleskin. There is no known cure, but I was adamant to save her.”

Zyra is still, hanging on every word the crestfallen knight utters. She leans forward with a morose attentiveness, unable to peel her curious, sympathetic gaze away from him. Keeping in mind the fact that he's here, in Yhordran, she's apprehensively expectant of a terrible ending to his tale.

“I decided to take my horse and go on a journey around the entire continent of Rhodanion to find some way of curing her. I spoke to every physician, botanist, alchemist, apothecary, and healing mage I could meet. I went on hopeless searches in dangerous places for ingredients to recipes that had no history of curing anything, just because I was desperate. The entire quest took two whole years. When I returned to Threcia empty-handed, she was so sick... She...” His voice stutters and begins to crack. “She was so thin, she was practically bones. Her... Her skin was so grey and transparent, you could see her veins. Most of her beautiful hair had fallen out of her head. The remaining strands were thin and in patches. She barely had the strength to twitch her fingers, much less open her eyes.”

Zyra clenches her jaw. She can't see much of his face as he hangs his head to struggle forcing his words out, but his shaky voice is all but a direct confirmation of his tears welling up in his eyes.

“The court physician said that she only had days left to live. I stayed by her side the entire time. She was in a coma, and I still... I still don't know for sure if she even knew I was there, holding her hand for the entirety of her last days.” He clutches his own fist with his other hand, both shaking with hesitance to continue, and the pain of recalling his loss. “About a month after she finally passed, her brother came up to me and... Told me about her pregnancy.”

The young mage is caught off guard at the sudden statement, having already totally forgotten her question which led to the knight's soul-baring confession to begin with.

“Isabelle found out she was pregnant soon after I left to look for a cure. She... She miscarried.” The knight's tears transition into near sobs. “She... suffered so much. But I wasn't there. For two years... she withered away... and I wasn't there. And worse, when I finally came back... I was empty-handed.”

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Zyra's mind is swirling with innumerable thoughts. She had assumed the knight must have suffered some sort of harsh experience to leave his home and country, but this was far more than what she had anticipated. She also couldn't believe that the usually stoic, stone-faced warrior who had no reservations about fighting giant undead brutes had been reduced to tears in front of her. Lastly, she had no idea what to say in order to comfort him. There probably isn't any sentence in all of language that could ease his pain. Rather than say anything, she slowly reaches forward and grabs his trembling hands, holding them tightly, as if he would fall into pieces if she were to let go.

Eventually, his sobs cease, and only wet streaks on his cheeks remain. He takes several slow breaths to calm himself down. Zyra's hands are still firmly clasped around his, as she doesn't want to relinquish her grip until she knows the time is right.

“I'm sorry...” He softly apologizes for his tearful outburst. “I've been holding that in for... many months now.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” She warmly responds, finally taking one of her hands off of his to caress the side of his head. “It takes courage to put the memories that haunt us to words. I'm the one who should be sorry for prying them out of you.”

He slowly shakes his head. “No. This was something I had to get off my chest.” He looks at her with glossy, moist eyes that now hold a renewed sense of determination. “You said that the further a person falls, the higher they can stand afterward. If I want to stand again, then I must come to terms with how I fell to begin with.”

Zyra senses that the emotional weight Atticus has been carrying on his shoulders is finally beginning to fall off of him. Proud of his ability to finally come to terms with his past and look for a way to move on, she wraps her arms around him in a heartfelt embrace. He returns it without a second thought. For the first time since his departure from Threcia, the black knight feels truly close to someone.

Morning later arrives, and the veiled sunlight, whose rays are weakened by the dense fog, seeps into the bedroom where Atticus lies. He slowly lulls awake, and notices that his pyromancer teammate is nowhere to be seen, and also that a tasty scent enters his nose. Curious, he decides to stand up and look for her and his other companions. Exiting the bedroom, he's immediately greeted by Royd and Veros, who are cooking slabs of meat on the fire pit that housed their tine bonfire the night before.

“Morning, sir knight!” Royd greets his comrade with enthusiasm. “Did you sleep well? You must have, considering it's close to midday already.”

“I've been out for that long?” Atticus ponders aloud. The cot was noticeably more comfortable than the ground he's grown used to sleeping on. That, combined with no need to wake up at sunrise today, and he can see how he was out like a log for so long.

“Aye. I don't blame you. The two of us woke up not too long ago, as well.”

Veros nods. “Those cots are a night and day difference to those bedrolls on the ground. We must've gotten about ten hours of sleep, at least.”

“Guess it's another reason why staying an extra day was a good idea after all.” The bulky man nods in satisfaction at the best sleep he's had in days. He wouldn't have received it if they had decided to continue northward this morning.

“Agreed.” Veros leans forward in his chair, also wearing an expression of contentment with his extended duration of shuteye. “We've been robbing ourselves of more and more sleep in the last several days, so it's good that we gave our bodies a chance to catch up.”

With nothing to do, the knight joins them in watching the meat by sitting on another vacant stool near the fire pit. “So is this lunch?” He asks, pointing at the meat.

“More like breakfast.” Royd answers. “We haven't eaten yet, so we grabbed this meat from the eatery. Should be done any minute now.”

“So...” Veros looks at Atticus with an inquisitive glare. “Have you decided? Do you want to continue with us tomorrow?”

“I do.” The knight responds without a second's thought. “I'll go north with you. I have no reason to stop now.” His eyes flash with the same steeled sense of determination he had after his emotional cleansing last night. He doesn't want to proceed just because he feels he deserves to put himself through the harsh trials anymore. Now, he wants to do it because it's simply the right thing to do.

“Good to hear.” Veros expresses relief with a small smile. “It's reassuring to know you'll be there.”

“Aye.” Royd nods in agreement. “Having you around improves our chances a lot, I'd say.”

Atticus quietly accepts the praise being given to him, and he thinks back to Zyra's words back at the baths in Rosemont, about how he's part of a team that trusts and depends on him now.