The journey through the valley had been quiet. Far too quiet for the amount of chatter that Kammon had become used to from his companion. Ezo was intelligent and infuriating, but never silent. Kammon wanted to reassure him as they grew closer to the valley, but there was nothing he could say to stop the weight of the loss he saw growing heavier on Ezo’s shoulders.

They’d been on the slowly inclining road for half a day as they rode towards Fair Hills. A thick stretch of trees hid a roaring river from them for most of the ride. As they crested the rise and looked up into the valley, it came out from behind the foliage and ran alongside the road until it met a large lake at the southwest corner.

Kammon expected to see people traveling through the valley, but no one was on the road. They’d passed a few abandoned buildings, but no homes lined the thoroughfare. Ezo had said a flood wiped out his village, but there was no sign of that destruction here. There was only a peaceful lake and vast fields of wildflowers on either side.

Ezo led the way, but didn’t pull their horse to a stop until they reached the lake’s edge. The lake waters were crystal clear, and it was only then that Kammon understood the full extent of the words Ezo had always spoken.

“Ezo…” he didn’t know what else to say. Though the lake was deep, the waters were so clear he could see the destruction that still haunted Ezo. Beneath the water’s surface, he could see the hint of rooftops that had once been the village of Fairhills.

“The waters receded a bit after I left, but not enough to matter much,” Ezo whispered. “I tried.” He pointed to the valley's north end, where the river cut through the rocky terrain. “This whole area is riddled with caverns. When the dams they’d built below Mountain View gave way, this area couldn’t take the stress. The water flooded, and the caverns beneath the city collapsed. The whole thing sunk, and the water rushed in to fill the void.”

“No one could have stopped that, Ezo.” Kammon wrapped his arms a little tighter around Ezo’s waist.

“After, people said I didn’t try to stop it. That I made the village collapse because I blamed them for the death of my family. I think they were just scared. They needed someone to blame.”

“Ezo, you know this isn’t something you could have stopped.”

Ezo leaned back against him, but he was too still. “Could you have?”

“What?”

“If you’d been here, could you have stopped it?”

“If it happened right now, with the two of us bound and working together, we still couldn’t stop it. We use the powers of nature to create magic, Ezo, not to stop it.”

Ezo’s head lowered, and Kammon wasn’t sure what else to say to him. He knew the valley had been home to a thriving village. A large series of farming fields lined one side of the river and pasture grounds were on the other. Now, nothing but wildflowers and tall grasses grew.

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Kammon got off the horse and watched Ezo do the same. He hung the horse’s reins over its neck and let it wander.

Ezo sat at the lake’s edge, and Kammon folded himself up to sit beside him.

“When I left,” Ezo grabbed a few rocks from the ground and shuffled them from one hand to the other. “When I left, the water was still muddy. You couldn’t see anything. I don’t know what I expected to find here. How could anything of Jacob’s have survived this?”

Kammon was far more used to cajoling Ezo than comforting him, but he sat with him in silence. There was an eerie calm on the valley. Life had repopulated the area after the flooding, but it felt unsettling sitting next to the drowned village.

Kammon saw motion at the other edge of the valley and watched as a figure grew closer. He didn’t say anything to Ezo, who was caught up in his memories.

“They call it the Ghost Hills now,” the man said as he stopped his horse a few feet away. Ezo startled at the words, but Kammon waited.

“People won’t travel at night through the valley. They say the spirits of the dead rise at nightfall, taunting the living.”

“How long have you been peddling that sort of rumor?” Ezo asked as he stood up. He offered his arm to the stranger, who reached down and clasped arms with Ezo.

“I didn’t figure you’d heard the superstition surrounding it yet,” the man said. He got off his horse and looked around the valley. “The fog rolls in early here, and it lingers. People swear they see things in it. Hear things.”

“Grief can do strange things to people,” Kammon said.

“Remec of lost Fair Hills,” the man introduced himself.

“Kammon.”

Remec’s eyes widened as he recognized Kammon’s name. He could feel that the man wasn’t an elementalist, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous. Kammon stepped closer, making sure he was a better target than Ezo.

“Remec was a friend of Jacob’s,” Ezo said. “When did you return to Fair Hills?”

“Not soon enough,” he confessed. “I came home to find the valley flooded and a new lake where Jacob’s home had been. You’d been gone almost a year when I arrived.”

“You were lucky to be away,” Ezo said. “There wasn’t anything we could do to save it.”

Ezo meant the words to comfort Remec, but Kammon knew Ezo still doubted himself. He understood better now, why Ezo had been so determined to save Mason Creek the night they’d met. Considering what he’d done then for a village he was just passing through, Kammon knew Ezo had done everything in his considerable power to protect his home.

“Where are you heading?” Kammon asked Remec. He didn’t like coincidences, and Jacob’s friend showing up while they were at the drowned village was too big of one to discount.

“I came to find Ezo. One of the villagers got word to me that he was seen passing this way. Jacob left something in my care, something to bring to you in case of his passing. I’m sorry for your loss, Ezo. I wasn’t around when Jacob died and I know how close the two of you were.”

“Maybe,” Ezo said. “You know he kept a lot from me.”

“I hope this helps that wound,” Remec said. He walked to his horse and pulled something out of his saddlebag. “I’ve kept it close through all my travels, like he asked me to. It was always meant for you.”

He handed the package to Ezo who unwrapped the fabric to reveal a leather journal.

Kammon would have strangled Jacob if he were still alive for the chase he’d led his nephew on. Ezo was strong and capable. Why hide so much from him? And why hide him away in this small valley when Ezo was meant to be something so much more than a local elementalist?

Ezo looked at him. His eyes which had been brimming with a lingering sadness moments before, were suddenly filled with hope.

“This could be just what I was looking for,” Ezo said.

Kammon could only nod as Ezo ran a reverent hand over the book. He wasn’t surprised when his lover dropped back to the ground and opened the book to read. Kammon watched as Remec sat next to him.

Kammon didn’t know what Ezo would find in Jacob’s written word, but he hoped it was the explanation Ezo sought. He deserved more from this journey than the sad recollections of a drowned village.