Desperate times call for desperate measures, right?

As the glittery, silverish blood flowed from her neck, Michael ran over to me.

"Fucking dickhead! Why did you kill her?" He barked and at the same time swung at me.

Throwing her still warm and twitching body to the side, I avoided his punch.

"Don't you think it's a bit too suspicious? She suddenly comes here and gives us information."

"Just because the old woman is from Eden doesn't mean she deserved to die."

Arcanum flickered to life around his fists as he swung at me again. I dodged; however, the aftershock of his punch blew a cut right underneath my eye. A few drops of blood flew in front of eyes, as if suspended in air.

Just as he was about to drive a knee into my mid-section, I coated my own hand with some Arcanum and swatted it to the side before turning around and landing the back side of my fist into his face. The impact was not much, although it sent an echoing tremble throughout the place.

"It's impossible she has a son that is about to be executed." I raised my voice, removing the hood from my face.

He straightened his back. "You'll blabber anything to justify yourself, you shithead."

"How is an old woman allowed inside a military encampment?" I blurted out, my own frustration reaching to a boiling point. "This doesn't make sense. If stealing from a Baron warrants a punishment in a ruined place such as this, most likely hundreds of kilometres away from mainland, why would a civilian be allowed inside the walls? How did she reach here before execution? There are so many holes in her story."

He stopped, the veil of Arcanum around him still dense. "What's your point?"

"She was lying to us." I replied. "People who walked past us, almost everyone had horns. And the ones we thought didn't have it were wearing huge hoods over their heads. We have no way of telling if there is any person of another race here or no."

He pointed at the woman. "You have lost your mind. Don't you see there are no horns on her? Even if that's the case, why did you kill an old woman?!"

Walking over to the woman, I turned her around. The image of blood caked face garbled, like a static of some sorts was covering it and then concentrated around her temples before dissipating, revealing two extremely small stubs. "You were saying?"

"How do I know it's not your doing?"

"That's nonsense. Why would I even do it? What's any benefit in doing so? Whatever it was, she was not there to meet her son at least."

Michael grinded his teeth furiously. "That didn't justify killing her."

"Look around you. It's a military encampment. Look at the dome around us. They are going to attack us. And more than likely she is a part of them as well. If anything, we have one less Edener to worry about."

"She was a sickly old woman." He shook his head. Placing his hands on his waist, he walked back and forth. "This is why I hate you. You have no common sense for empathy. You can't go on a brainless slaughter."

"I can." I replied, without missing a beat. "And I will. Just like how they will do it as well." Staring into his eyes, I spoke again. "You will understand it when the same people you leave alive out of mercy take, rape and kill your little siblings."

"Don't bring my siblings into it."

"It's the same for everyone. Get your mind in the right zone. Or just return to from where we came. I am not forcing you into anything."

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Saying that, I turned around and crouched down. Searching for the woman's body, I took out the bulge in her pocket. It was a small pouch. Upon opening it, I found around 10 glimmerstones. They were sapphire-coloured coins with a platinum-coloured flame in the middle of it. It was semi-see-through and weighed much less than a krone coin.

She was lying after all.

Slipping them into my pocket, I searched for the device she used to hide her horns. She wasn't carrying it on her body; hence, I started searching it inside her sack.

While I was doing, Michael stooped down and closed her wide eyes and then picked her up in a princess carry.

"What are you doing?"

"She was well past her years. She at least deserves a burial." He replied, his voice sombre.

"Just don't take too long."

"Fuck off."

Saying that, he went away.

Sighing, I turned my attention back to the task at hand. The sack was mostly empty save for a few rations consisting of water and some food I couldn't make sense of. Picking them up regardless and slipping the few other coins that were inside a food can of sorts into my pocket, I picked the sack and hid it behind a tree.

After around 10 minutes, Michael was back, the sleeves of his robe dirty with foliage of mud-caked withered leaves.

He casted only one sidelong glance at me before pulling his hood up and then stood against the tree. Once I had gathered enough material, I hid my bag into one of the top branches of the trees that formed the avenue to the right side and only took necessary things with me. Michael did the same.

Changing the knife's shape back to the chain it was before, I was about to place it inside my pocket. However, right before I placed it inside, I felt a small bulge on it.

Bringing it close to my eyes, I saw a red jewel on top of it. As I slightly pressed it, it moved a little inwards and I felt it tamper with my Arcanum. However, nothing happened.

What was that?

I pressed it once more, but nothing happened again.

Could it be…

The woman's stub like horns only appeared after she completely stopped moving.

I pressed it again and this time visualised it. The appearance I wanted.

I stabbing sensation coursed through my temple. Michael who was standing with an indifferent expression and only stealing a few glances until now suddenly lost his composure and turned his head towards me.

As I brought my hand upwards, I felt a small groove. Extending from my temples and having a small curve at the end. Like the horn of a mountain goat.

An unknowing smile crept up to my face. "Looks like we got our way inside."

I wasn't expecting it to be this convenient. And it has just been a few hours since we entered Eden as well.

But this worries me as well.

Things are going too smoothly.

Holding the chain out to Michael, I spoke. "You take it."

"No."

"The woman said Cromwells, who are presumably the commanding family of this place, have white hair and yellow eyes. Between you and me, only one of us have those features."

"And what about you?"

Although he asked a question that would make it look like he was worried, there was obvious venom and spite in it. He has an oddly high sense of righteousness for someone as boisterous as him.

"Same ploy as before. You be the Cromwell, I will be your caretaker, or servant, or whatever. Doesn't really matter to me."

He yanked the chain from my grasp before attaching it to his robe in the same way as the woman did.

"That is not a very good idea, I must say." I spoke my thoughts out loud but dismissed them after a sigh. "But if an alien old woman meant so much to you, then you can do it, I guess."

"I wasn't asking for permission."

Saying that, he turned around aggressively, his robe fluttering dramatically in the air and started walking towards the place where the woman told us we would have to pay Hagrid, who was a troll.

Trolls have not been mentioned a lot of times in Adam's diaries. They were one of the neutral races during the Holocaust of the humans.

Luck has been on our side so far. Who knew we would get the answer to our biggest problem so easily.

Although, something has been eating away at me. And the worst part is that I have no idea of what it is. It's like an itch you can't quite scratch.

Was it related to Astrid? Or the weird shape of the sun? Or the fact that the change in gravity in Eden is kind of throwing my Arcane Arts calculations off balance? Or was it something else? I had no way to tell.

And we were so close to the entrance of this "Keep of Ruin," that I had no time to stop and think.

I had to improvise from here on out.

As a pair of onyx horns curved outward from the sides of his head like twisted obsidian. The bulky protrusions started from just above his temples, the horns coiling sinuously, and the pitch-black surface marred by subtle, jagged ridges that traced the spiral ascent.

Both horns were tapered to a pointed tip, sharp and bleak. The faintest hint of a crimson hue danced along the edges of the horns.

Horns that plausibly looked exactly like the ones the man had that was leading the caravan of prisoners.

Pulling his hood over the horns, he puffed his chest out and started walking with a sense of authority.

Leave it to Michael to act all privileged.

After an hour of walking straight and another 30 minutes of walking following the left turn, we finally arrived at the small establishment. An establishment with something written over its board. In a language we couldn't understand.

I took in a deep breath.

Things will only start getting messier from here.