By morning we had made it to a small but high-fenced encampment. And upon offering up some of our many supplies, we were granted entrance to the corral. There were about a dozen horses, most of which seemed to have seen better days, along with two disheveled griffins ready for rent or outright purchase. Aixel remained outside, not wanting to cause any commotion, so only Cylie joined me as we walked the narrow muddy path toward the only shop in the tiny outpost.

Other than the crooked main shop and stable, long held together with ancient stone and mud, there were two other small buildings, possibly hosting the handful of weathered residents. There were a couple of camps also at the front, already packing their things to continue on their journey, whether it be to the underground or the other outlying camps that were scattered throughout the Barrens. They seemed scared, suspicious and drained, and I tried to not meet their eyes.

“Is that little Cylie I see?” shouted a boisterous voice from the crooked shop window.

Cylie made an excited gasp and ran forward, pushing past the confused and weary travelers before us. I jogged behind her, trying to keep up.

There was an old man at the window, arms crossed tight as he leaned over the stand’s gray wooden counter. His round face beamed, and eyes crinkled in their corners as Cylie jumped up the crooked steps with a single spritely bound.

She slammed her palm on the counter.

“Sixty-seven gold? For those things?” she shouted, gesturing to the equally crooked horses.

“Now, now, quiet little girl,” he shushed her, “The next batch of horses are five days’ walk from here. You can try your luck there, be my guest, but sixty-seven gold will seem like a steal by then.”

Cylie leaned back, rolling her eyes.

“Most of these horses would be dead in five days anyway.”

The old man grumbled, tugging at his wiry beard.

“Also - what’s a distinguished merchant like yourself doing so far west? Thought you’d have better business with us unsavories?” she jabbed.

“Your lot’s a bit easier to please than those uppity ones at the port,” he laughed, “That and my little Lynxie decided he wanted to bring a bloody girl back from the dead when he was sleepin’ and a silly little necklace seemed to appear around his neck when he woke.”

Behind him, in the shade of the room, a young man raised his head and turned to us, rolling his eyes as he continued to shuffle through a stack of papers.

“Hiya little Lynxie,” teased Cylie with a playful wave.

“‘Hiya’ Cylie the clubfoot,” sneered the boy, not looking up from his work.

“Not anymore, Little Lynxie. A little magic in my lungs and I was up and running, good as new. You should try it some time - might get rid of whatever pox is affecting your face,” Cylie jeered with a smile.

The boy only shook his head in response, nostrils flared.

The old man laughed, seemingly amused at the banter.

“Who’s your friend?” he asked, gesturing at me.

“Oh, this is Mira,” Cylie smiled, “We’re on our way to a camp in the South Barrens. She killed a dragonrider, so don’t even think of pulling any funny business.”

“Of course she did,” said the old man, shaking his head and smiling, “So do you need a horse or not? You’re holding up business.”

Cylie gestured to the empty space behind us.

“Yeah, they’re all afraid of you, swinging those daggers around like you own the place,” he smiled.

“I’ll give you sixty - for three. And they better look better than this sorry lot,” she said, punctuating with a dagger stab into the old wooden counter.

The old man made an exaggerated sigh then grumbled something to himself.

“You’re lucky I know your folk,” he said before turning into the dark of the building.

Cylie turned towards me, smiling and proud as stuffed the knife back in her belt.

The next few days were like a dream, every few blinks a memory. There was joy, laughter, and although this new horse was no Nim, I was finally able to ride again. Although Cylie could keep up, often riding horses north to the ports even at a young age, Aixel was not as experienced. The void mage was quickly frustrated, only having ridden only a handful of times in the past. And though I half expected our new friend Cylie to tease him about this, she was unexpectedly patient with him, although not without a few playful jabs at first.

Our travels came without incident, and nights were filled warmed with firelight, spent laughing until my stomach ached. Even Aixel’s attitude seemed to lighten as the days passed. Yet, there was still a lingering awkwardness, and despite Cylie’s earlier words, I still couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt whenever our eyes met for longer than a fleeting second.

The further south we rode, the warmer it became, and the vast barren fields of gold turned into the sun-bleached trees of the south. The air became dry and salt-rich, even though the sea was still a great distance away. The northern horizon still had hints of green and I could tell that we were nearing our destination just below the great Silkworm Woods.

Before we could reach the safety of the camp, however, we had to pass an area of great contention. There was a space, between the Western and Southern Barrens, that had been overtaken many years ago by Midland forces. This small space, perhaps only a fingertip’s length on aged map, was a high cliff pass filled with archers and hidden beasts alike, each eager for a chance at a rogue blood mage’s throat.

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Although Aixel and Cylie both noted that they had made it through this border several times without incident, I could not help but worry.

This would be the first time I had ventured out of the Barrens since my Solia banishment, and I couldn’t help but wonder if Herculea was still tracking me after our last mirror-dream encounter. Then again, she had already won our sordid battle of hearts, Lumo now at her side, so why would she care if I were alive still? Although our ward-ridden camps seemed to keep any potential nighttime intruders at bay, I could still not understand how she was able to find me. The anasilan should have made such an instance impossible. What had changed?

Cylie pulled on her horse’s reins in front of me to slow, and I followed her lead. Upon the horizon were tiny dots of red and emerald green, the conquest flags of the guardian forces. She turned, and we made our way off the well-walked path, down salt rock cliffs and into a small clearing. Upon the shaded plateau, the view to the distant sea became unobstructed, as I could finally spot the southernmost tip of Lucerna.

Cylie jumped off her horse with one spritely hop, before she then pulled her gray dappled horse to one of the nearby white-barked trees before tying its lead to one of the low branches. I followed, searching the distance further for any sign of the signature gold and silver armor.

The suns were bright in the sky above, and the handful of leaf-bare trees around us made for a severe lack of cover on our approach, and it was decided that we should wait until evening before trying our luck through the pass.

The air was dusty and dry, and although the dead grass crunched below my feet, the sea’s distant breeze made for comfortable weather as we sat below the sparse shade. Our packs had lightened considerably during our travels, so our once lavish meals were reduced to granola snacks and dried fruits.

The three of us sat in silence in the shade, our once fruitful conversations now dried over time, and I watched as Cylie sharpened a dagger while Aixel rested his eyes as he leaned against one of the eucalyptus trees. It was strange to watch someone so often on edge and frantic now at ease. Even little Doris lay asleep in the crook of his arm.

Cylie looked at him, frowning, as the horses found the few sprigs of green hiding beneath the dead grass around us.

“He’s much more pleasant when he’s asleep,” she whispered to me with a wink, and I couldn’t help but let out a chuckle.

I sighed, watching the blue waves at the horizon. Gulls flew from above in clarinet calls, and they were joined by the birds of the north, escaping the growing northern chill.

“I’ve never been this far south before,” I smiled. “I wish it were under different circumstances. I can’t help but feel at peace here.”

“One of the little joys left in the Barrens,” Cylie gave a sad smile, “But don’t be fooled. These lands are still just as dangerous. The cliff pass is the least of our worries.”

“Then why haven’t we seen anything out here? I noticed barely an imp on our way here. Where is everyone?”

Cylie was quiet, looking down at her dagger, twisting it in a stream of light that made its way from the branches above.

“Partially because we’ve all gotten very good at hiding these last hundreds of years… That and…” she nodded towards the sleeping Aixel, “Most will stay clear of him.”

I looked at Aixel, looking particularly innocent at the moment, and frowned. Cylie returned her dagger to her belt and leaned back, crossing her arms.

“Cylie, how long have you been here? In the Barrens?”

Cylie looked upwards, wiggling her fingers in calculation.

“I suppose about three or so years now? I don’t like to keep track,” she frowned. “People out here can be cold, paranoid. It was pretty rough before I found my way to the underground. But thankfully they took me in… Set me up with a job hunting hares in the bog and I earned a bed behind Gilda’s shop. But Gods, was I scared my first night in the catacombs… It’s strange being around so many folks so used to death.”

“How many times had you been before? To battle?”

“Oh, only a handful - Nothing like that last bout. Gilda said there hasn’t been something like that in centuries - even since Ciro’s time. We lost a lot but… the underground will be back. As long as Milea’s there, it ain’t going nowhere.”

Cylie then turned to me, eyes suddenly serious.

“Mira, I know I’ve already thanked you, but I mean it… Thank you for bringing me back,” Cylie said, leaning forward and grabbing my hands, “When that serpent fell on my legs, I really thought it was the end.”

“It’s okay - really,” I shook my head, “I’m sure you would have done the same… And if you weren’t here on this trip, I’d quite possibly lose my mind.”

She leaned back again, smiling.

“Did I ever tell you how I failed my Solia test?” she asked.

I shook my head.

“In the dream I was at the ports, selling the new batch of pups with my folk. There was a little girl at the edge of the pier, and no one was watching her. I tried to get people’s attention, but no one was listening, so I tried to run to her. My leg was bad - got bitten when I was real young and never healed right. So when I saw her fall in the water, I couldn’t reach her in time. That’s when this little thing around my neck became real handy.”

I watched as Cylie pulled her binding chain up from underneath her cloak. She twisted the tiny pin in the light, brows furrowed.

“Yours is a bit more heroic than mine,” I said, shaking my head. “I only brought back an imp.”

“An imp?” she laughed, “Sentenced to death, eternally on the run - all for an imp. Suppose it’s fitting though.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s just that - you’re so nice. Makes sense that you’d bring back such a tiny creature - a menace to most - without second thought,” she laughed.

I frowned.

“Mira - I’m not making fun of you. I mean - if it weren’t for that kindness, I’d probably be rotting away in the catacombs right now.”

“Shame.”

I turned to see Aixel now awake, eyes squinting in the sun as he picked grass off a still-sleeping Doris.

“I liked it better when you were sleeping,” jeered Cylie, throwing a stray twig in his direction.

Aixel only gave a soft smile, not bothering to look up, and swatted the tiny twig away in the air.

We took turns resting as we awaited nightfall. When I awoke, I saw that Aixel and Cylie had three blankets from our pack stretched out on the ground, and were pressing dirt and grass into the thick weave. They were both muttering something, chanting as they worked diligently, kneading the ground material into each fold.

I carefully approached, watching them work wards and grass alike into the fabric.

“Obbuculte Absculin occultono…” they chanted, deep in concentration.

A cloaking spell.

I had seen similar spells before, and it made perfect sense that it would be used now. Although its effect would be temporary - if we remained under the fabric as we traveled through the pass, our presence - both sight and sound, would be obscured from those above.

I watched them, studying their every move as they worked, careful to not interrupt. It was an ancient spell, as seen with the careful kindness in which they worked. The two were almost singing a lullaby to the cloth as they placed the ground upon it in careful piles, as if asking it permission to be magicked.

After several long moments, the two finally rose, wiping away the loose grass and dirt from their palms.

“These should last us until daylight if we’re careful,” said Cylie, cracking her back as she stretched, “I’ll start getting the horses ready.”

Aixel nodded, turning to me.

“You ready?”