As we moved north, we left behind the cold, thick forests and shrublands of the south. The Gnomen mountains no longer loomed behind us. Instead, they grew smaller and smaller, and it became harder to distinguish the trees and snow that covered them.

Ahead of us, it seemed impossibly flat in comparison. There was hardly any treeline anymore, and the yellow grass that had greeted us after leaving the previous treeline was now everywhere in sight. Hills rolled all around us, and the air was dry and hot.

The men didn't seem to mind. Everyone was still in good spirits from our victory. And so, I asked Cleaver what we were going to do with Tuale.

He grinned. "Ransom the boy for gold, of course. And when we get the money, we can hire more men and come back for even more gold." Cleaver grinned at me, and his eyes twinkled mischievously as if it was the cleverest thing he had ever said.

The plan didn't seem clever to me, but it did seem dangerous. And from what I had learned from the men around me, it was as if danger was what they sought. Tuale’s words from our conversation echoed in my head.

"Milnas," Theodmon's voice suddenly rang out, causing me to jump in my seat and slide to the side. I quickly grabbed the reins to prevent myself from falling off, which made my horse snort in protest. Cleaver looked back at me. "Are you alright, lad?"

I cursed under my breath, nodded, and struggled to get back into my saddle. I realized that my hand had instinctively reached for the pommel of the sword.

Theodmon's voice whispered in my mind again, but this time I managed to remain seated and only flinched. "When you reach the city, the king will personally come to retrieve his son."

The voice paused for a moment, and I could feel the tension building up in my head, almost like a headache. "There is much danger ahead. You've seen it. These men are killers. Will you stay with them?"

I looked at Tuale. "What else am I to do? If we are to believe Tuale, the church has not given up on finding me." Rebert had told me they wouldn't. And he had been right. It felt like a long time ago since he had said that, back in the sleepy coastal town where we had bid farewell to the ship. It had been some time since I had thought of the man, and I felt a twinge of guilt abandoning him. But I did not owe the man. He had done nothing while my father was killed before me.

"Why do they come for me?” I asked in my mind.

"They are hungry for magic, as it's dwindling among their own people. Their only connection to it is through stolen artifacts or those they create themselves."

"But what does that have to do with me?"

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There was a long silence from Theodmon. Then, his voice spoke even softer in my mind. "The artifacts are created using energy, either willingly given by elves like me or forcibly taken. My people never allowed such practices; it simply wasn't done. But humans, who lack our power and immortality, are greedy creatures. They have no qualms about venturing into forbidden territories."

A chill ran down my spine as my mind quickly pieced together the puzzle. "They want to turn me into an artifact."

"It is no easy task," Theodmon acknowledged, and I felt a strange sense of pride in his words. "You have done an admirable job evading their grasp. But yes, lad, they seek to do to you what I did to myself, in order to harness your power for their own purposes. That necklace around the boy’s neck only holds a fraction of the power you possess, and yet it is enough to make him more dangerous than any man.”

"A barbaric tradition, but it's the only way for the church to maintain its empire. Without artifacts and the magic they bestow upon the church, they would be like any other force in the world--hindered by age and the constraints of the human body.”

"If you choose to stay with these men and venture into the heart of the church's domain, I will need to protect you, my child. And together, we will have to strike a blow against the church to ensure they no longer come after you."

I was taken aback by Theodmon's determination. I detected an underlying anger in his voice, and his protective instincts felt unfamiliar and foreign. It was difficult to remember that the voice in my head belonged to my biological father.

"How can we do that? I'm not skilled with the sword, and I don't know how to control my magic." It had been a while since I had killed the churchmen in the woods, and I recalled the way Shay had looked at me. To her, I was no longer human. I didn't want Cleaver and the others to view me the same way.

“We need to find a body and free me from this prison.”

“You can be freed?”

Theodmon chuckled in my head. “Yes, child. I just haven’t found the right moment or the right hand to guide me.” I didn’t answer, and Theodmon seemed to sense my hesitation—and whatever else I was feeling. Some part of me didn’t want to do what he wanted me to do.

“It’s not easy, you know, to forget what it’s like to taste the air, to feel the warmth of flesh against your skin. But the mind is a fickle beast, it can easily forget—but it doesn’t forget what it is like to crave such sensations.”

I thought about what he said. The thought of being imprisoned for so long seemed to be the worst form of torture. Theodmon seemed to be mostly himself—or from what I could tell. Perhaps it was because he could sense the outside world, even if he could not interact with it. I wondered how long it would take for me to go insane in a similar situation, except without his extra senses. A week? A month? A year?

“How long have you been trapped there?” I asked quietly--softly, in my mind.

There was no answer. Theodmon’s thoughts tended to drift when I felt his presence in my mind. He could be talking to me one moment, and then another moment, it was as if he was back inside the prison of his own mind. In the corner of my awareness, I could smell something sweet, and for a moment, the air felt wet and moist, and a softness seemed to brush against my lips. Then, a deep sadness. Perhaps it was a memory of his.

I remembered spending time in the spirit realm. At the time, I thought of it only as the quiet realm since that was the defining feeling. I had grown to like the place but felt fatigued and lifeless outside of it. I wondered about the effects it would have on my body if I spent years there. Perhaps, once I came out, I would be nothing but a skeleton.