Royd nods his head slowly, feeling empathy for his traveling companion. As another husband and father, he also understands how it feels to make a hard decision for the good of the family.

“Well...” The brawny man speaks up, placing a hand on his ex-criminal comrade's shoulder. “I understand how it feels to come out here with your wife and child in mind. You think of them as both the reason you signed up, and the reason you want to go back home. But we're here to give them good lives in a Yhordran where this mist doesn't exist anymore.”

Kellar nods in agreement. “Ain't that the fuckin' truth. If I make it back home, my next issue will be bein' a good dad.”

“I think you'll be a good dad.” Zyra suddenly speaks up. “You've been really dependable while we've been out here. So I think you'd be a dependable parent, too.” She smiles warmly and encouragingly.

The rogue laughs, feeling a bit bashful at the sudden praise. “Well, if you think so, then I'll take your word for it.”

“You've mostly just complained about things.” Royds interjects to tease his teammate. “But despite your whining, you've managed to pull your weight.” He pats Kellar's back an audible thump.

“You're too kind.” Kellar replies sarcastically with an annoyed frown.

Upon hearing his comrade's story, Atticus quietly feels relieved that he found the ring and offered it to Kellar. He ruminates on the fact that the two men who have seemed to get along the least through the journey have found common ground on the revelation that they both have loved ones waiting for them to return. At first, the knight felt a tiny prick of envy, but soon realized that despite his self-exile, he still has friends and family in Threcia who almost certainly wonder about him on a regular basis.

“I must say, Kellar...” Veros's authoritative voice is suddenly heard. “I was a little bit skeptical of you when you first approached me back at the tavern in Evatica. You really did strike me as the type who would want to sign up for Mistwalker duty just to loot corpses. But, you're here, way past the point you would be at if that really were all you wanted. I'm sorry for doubting you.”

Kellar shakes his head. “Nah, I don't blame you for assuming I'd be like that. If this mist showed up five years ago, I'd have done exactly as you thought I would. I was one hell of an opportunist then. How about you? You were once a part of the Legion, right? Have you changed much since being discharged?”

Veros's face becomes stern as he considers his past. “Yeah, I'd say so. I was quite eager to become part of a military as legendary as the Yhordran Legion, but...” He leans forward and stares at the slowly dimming latern. “The Kudura war changed all that, though.”

“You were a part of that fuckin' mess, huh?” Kellar asks, recalling the political discord of the time due to Yhordran's participation.

“More than I wished.” The veteran becomes visibly bitter as he remembers his experiences during the conflict. “I came out of that war a changed man, and not for the better.”

“At least you came out of it alive, right?” Royd comments, trying to offer some sort of a silver lining to the topic.

Veros pauses for a moment to gaze at the dying flame in the lantern. His face grows more sullen. “I have three younger siblings – two brothers and one sister. My brothers were in the Legion at the time, too. Both of them. They were part of the Kudura war, as well. Neither of them made it.”

“Goodness...” The woodcutter utters in a softened voice, his attempt of reassurance brutally shot down. “I'm sorry to hear that, friend. I truly am.”

“Thank you.” Veros replies with a small, somber nod. “As the oldest child, I always blamed myself for not looking after them, thinking that I could've done something to prevent their deaths, but that would've been impossible, as we were in different regiments. And my parents...” He shakes his head. “I also can't overstate how devastated my parents were, and still are. Losing my brothers is why I lost faith in the crown and also stopped going to monastery sermons. It all felt so pointless.”

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“Were you able to pick yourself up afterward?” Royd asks.

“It took some time, but I eventually realized that even though I had a grudge against the ones who rule over our country, I still wanted to be part of something that helped the people. So, I chose the best option available to me and joined the city guard.”

“You're a city guardsman?” Kellar asks, surprised. “You never mentioned that. Guess I should be glad I'm no longer doing any criminal work. How'd your superiors respond when you told them you were coming here?”

“They knew me well enough to not really be so surprised.” Veros admits with a shrug. “Same with my parents, though they weren't as accepting.”

“I'd imagine not.” Royd comments. “They're probably not keen on the idea of potentially losing their last son.”

“And I know that.” The veteran narrows his contemplative eyes as he reflects on his decision. “But the idea of sitting around and waiting for someone else to save us when I'm ready and willing to do it myself just bothers me. I was never the kind of person to relinquish myself to complete inaction. Sometimes that stubborn attitude got me into trouble, honestly.”

“Well,” the brawny man leans forward with a smile, “I, for one, am glad you're here to fight with us. You've been a very valuable asset to our team, and we might be lost without you.”

“Hell, this team might not exist without you.” Kellar interjects. “If I hadn't overheard you at the tavern, talkin' about forming a group to travel with, then I wouldn't have approached you. I probably would've wandered in here by my damn self and gotten killed by now.”

Veros smiles, grateful of his comrades' feelings. “Thank you. I really appreciate your words.”

After an evening of heart-to-heart discussions and self-reflective reminiscing on past lives, most of the Mistwalkers call it a night and finally decide to tuck themselves into their bedrolls, out of reach from the lantern's almost totally faded glow. Atticus and Zyra are the last ones awake, watching the tiny flame dance daintily in the heavy air.

“Everyone really has their plates full in their normal lives, don't they?” The mage remarks at a softened volume to not disturb her teammates' sleep. “But they took it upon themselves to still come out here. They're all really strong people.”

“If we were to complete our mission,” Atticus responds, also keeping his voice lowered, “and actually be able to find the source of the mist and destroy it, how do you think your parents would react?”

Zyra smiles while imagining the scenario. “Well, they'd be ecstatic – especially after they've finished yelling at me for coming here in the first place. I appreciate how much they try to look after me, but it's a little overbearing sometimes. It's why I didn't even tell them that I was becoming a Mistwalker. How about you?” She turns to look Atticus in the eyes. “If you saved Yhordran, is there anyone in Threcia you'd be eager to tell?”

“A few people.” The knight answers. “I'd want to tell my old commander, but he'd probably act as if that was something expected of me to begin with.”

“A commander like that must've been a real slave driver.”

“He was.” Atticus nods as a small smirk appears on his face. “But he's the type who just wants his men to be the best versions of themselves.”

“If you don't mind me asking,” Zyra becomes slightly meek as she steers the conversation in a more personal direction, “how did he react to you leaving?”

A dejected expression washes over the knight's face. “He didn't really try to dissuade me. But I knew he understood why I wanted to go.” He lets out a small sigh. “I regret not taking the time to write a letter or something before taking part in this mission. But since we left Terrance, I've begun to seriously think about returning. Maybe it would give me a better sense of closure than wandering around for the rest of my life.”

“Don't forget to take me with you.” Zyra playfully nudges him with her elbow.

Another smile crosses Atticus's face. “I guess I did promise, huh? You sure it won't interfere with your studies?”

“If anything, it'll bolster them.” She responds with confidence.

“In that case, I'll introduce you to my old pyromancy teacher – the one who smacked me on the head every time it took longer than five seconds for me to cast a spell.”

“I can appreciate a challenge.” The mage responds, the end of her sentence trailing off into a yawn.

“Are you going to sleep now?”

“In a bit.” Zyra answers amidst a subtle, sleepy sigh. “You?”

“In a bit.” The knight echos.

After a pause, Zyra leans to the side to rest her head on Atticus's shoulder. He doesn't move or say anything to suggest discomfort. The two continue to quietly bask in the dim glow of the small lantern flame.