I gasped awake, cold water about me. Instantly I knew the place, my eyes glaring up between the two pillars wrapped in chains. Hanging there, the emaciated form of the Sorrow Penatent stared down at me with her hollow, cold eyes. Before a single word left my mouth, she spoke, "Sorry. You aren't dead. I just need you to listen for a moment. You will awake soon enough, so please forgive me."

I bit back my urge to insult the goddess. She swayed there for a moment before saying, "The Cruel Poet made it clear that Dremuri girl is now directly tied to you. Please dont hold it against me, but I must uphold the cycle. The gift was only meant for you. Now, please forgive me, I'll get onto the main point."

Hearing her speak pleas like that only brought back memories of that time before. That way she stared at me when begging and giving her that forgiveness, only for me to realize that she didn't understand. My hands tightened into a painfully tight fist. She continued, "The five heralds are known now, unfortunantly. It's best you know. Sadly, no one can stop the prophecy. I know it's what you want to do, but I beg you. Stop tr-"

I knelt down and grabbed one of the pieces of broken stone out of the water, lobbing it directly at her. She swung back and forth after it struck her squarely in the face. I said, low and brutalistic in tone, "You will not stop me. I will kill you if you dare try. Call that impossible all you want. I've got all the time in the world."

She sat there stunned as she slowly stopped swinging, her eyes now locked on me. A sad frown formed on her face as she said, "That's not up to you or me."

I let out a bitter laugh, pointing at her, "Not you nor anyone else will tell me what I can and can't do. They can't kill me for good without ending the prophecy. That's the only way anyone will prevent me from it. Now, if all you were going to do was tell me to give up, let me wake up. I've got to heal up and get back to my work."

The goddess's eyes narrowed at me, her sad tone gaining a bit of an edge as she said, "I am sorry. You will be too if you keep this up."

I snorted, saying, "You can just hang there all you want. If you ever actually feel like doing something to help, let me know. Now let me wake up, damn it."

I awoke with a start. Instantly, pain pulsed from my arm. It took me a few moments to realize I was on the floor of a tent. Snow slapped against the sides as the wind howled. Veline sat by me, her eyes's red circles glowing faintly in the dim light. Before I could even move to sit up, she grabbed my shoulders and whispered, "Stay. No moving."

Looking down at my self, my chest was bare of any clothing and I could see the gash that ran along it. A thread had been sowed half way long it, the needle now layong on my skin. She looked at me and frowned. I relaxed, realizing I couldn't feel the wound at all. The medical bag sat open next to her as she said, "That fight. What was that fight?"

I watched as she took up the needle and began to return to stitching. There was a short of odd feeling watching as she worked, yet being numb to it completely. I grumbled, "A priest, possibly an inquisitor recognized me. That kid showed up. Claimed to be one of the heralds."

She didn't say anything further as she carefully continued. Yet, there was a mix of shame and fear that my pact partner didn't even attempt to hide. Her tail sat, unmoving at her side and her frow was all too clear. Once she finished, the tail blade cut the stitched and her eyes turned to my arm. The arrow hand been removed and a thick bandage was wrapped around it. Her shoulder drooped as she said, "Too slow. Arrived too slow."

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I grunted and said, mouth dry, "I lived. Water."

Veline turned her attention to my bag, laying on the ground with the strap cut. I had forgotten about it in the fight, but apparently she hadn't. Luckily it seemed otherwise undamage as she pulled the canteen from it while saying, "Medicine in bag was useful. Able to stop bleeding with a salve. Dried but weather made it wet. Had to stop. Don't know where we are besides off the road. Good distance. Far."

Drinking as she held the lip of the cateen to my mouth, I vaguely considered the bag. Had Havar been alone, I might have felt safe with taking the bag to the town. Now it wasn't a risk I wanted to take. The harsh weather was providing us some sanctuary, but by the time it began to die down we'd be force to move again. I got the nagging feeling that the so called hero wouldn't go down from the wound I gave him.

I layed my head back as Veline continued, "Wounds healing take a wild. Medicine is odd. Advanced. Unsure what is. Seems to work. Will still take a while."

Her voice was low, holding no anger. Fear and misery continued to saturate the emotional link between us just as much as my physical pain must have for her. No doubt fueling it further. I sighed and muttered, "We survived. Our goal is to now find out way to the forest. We're going to have to hide atleast till I've healed."

She nodded, but my words had little effect. Then, she pulled out a small rectangular box and began rubbing the thick, red substance along my freshly stitched wound. It slowly harded into a plaster like seal over it. In any case, I didn't have reason to trust this medicine would be used for far worse things than the priest had claimed. I had learned the clergies had plenty who could put on false friendly faces in the worst way. It was likely to be a trap as anything else in fact.

Silence followed as I lay there and rested as my mind worked. Had Morgan been skilled, I would have losted that. I wasn't sure how I hadn't outright done so. Even if he wasn't the hero, his physical ability was supernatural. That alone was proof of the gods' meddling. I then immidately considered what my own divine nuisance had said. It made all too much sense if some god of justice was actively playing into that dangerous idea the kid had. He would have to be dealt with somehow, even if I didn't exactly know where or how I could even begin. If the church was backing him, then it'd be a matter that had to wait. As much as I didn't want to just leave it be, he was undoubtably out of my reach.

After a while, my thoughts where interrupted by Veline waving one of the rations in my face. I smiled lightly at the frivalious act. She, more slowly than she even spent stitching me up, help me up to a sitting position and supported me while I fumblingly took hold of the food. Moving with most of my torso was proving aggitatingly difficult.

The one thing I couldn't quite get to grips with in the situation was the idea that the church was actively letting the hero live. That point was the one that kept me from believing him. That would be the end of the prophecy outright. Surely, at the least, some of the clergies would actively try to end his life. As I ate, I tried to figure out any reason they wouldn't. Even the general public might try to kill him. It was an insane gamble for any payoff.

After I swallowed a piece of meat, I asked, "Can you think of any reason the clergies wouldn't just kill a herald?"

Veline paused for a moment as she ate her own meal. She clicked her tongue and gently pressed part of her horn to my head. After she finished chewing on a piece of jerkys, she said, "If one dies, prophecy fails. Hero. Good. Righteous. Only falls at the end. If prophecy fails, then they have also have a hero."

I grunted, somewhat annoyed I hadn't considered that. I had been focusing entirely on that one aspect of what he was. Veline was entirely correct. They wanted to appear good and just, killing the only good herald was probably something they'd argue about doing just because of that. Then that would make sense why he was with possibly more than one inquisitor. I nodded and said, "I see. Do you think he even knows that they might kill him if they can't to another herald?"

"No," She said bluntly. That I agreed with too completely. It was still a rather risky plan and no doubt was a point of contention. Still, I would image there'd be atleast four or five inquisitors around him at all time if he was really the hero. Especially given his uncanny strength and speed. And what was to stop a god of justice to call all his chosen heroes? I just let the thought linger as I listened to Veline rip apart her food. It seemed to lessen her sadness, at the least.