They said goodbye to the Councilman’s family the next morning. Dyna was obviously unhappy that they hadn’t stayed longer, and her cherry lips pouted in discontent.

Exill and Envy climbed down the gentle slopes forming the caldera, the morning rays diffuse against the obscuring veil of fog around them. The air was humid as they made their way down, until the steaming hot springs around them no longer obscured the view.

“I think that’s the western coach yard” he pointed to the dusty yard in the distance, connected to the main road circling the inactive volcano below them.

It was still early morning when they arrived at the yard, filled with shouts and activity where loaders hauled last minute cargo on board. Koopra was returning from the latrines, hard biscuit in hand when they approached the cart.

“Good morning Koopra, Nana, Alden.” He greeted them one by one while climbing on board. Nana looked pale and tired, dark circles under her eyes as she returned the greeting.

“Oh, I’ll be fine once we reach Holmsburn, just not built for the road at this age. All the bumps leave me sore and stiff, and the bed was no good either.” She complained.

Exill nodded in response. He was familiar with the common complaints of the elderly at this point, having run a clinic all this time. The cart eventually set off, the space on board was slightly cramped as more cargo had been picked up at Virigo, heading for Holmsburn.

Despite the extra baggage, they made good time on the road, and arrived a little early at the small clearing where they would spend the night. Nana’s situation had deteriorated throughout the day and a fever had set hold despite his best efforts at channelling healing magic into her.

The mood in the camp was grim where both Nana and Alden refused to eat dinner, the young boy sticking by his grandmother’s prone form.

“Nana would want you to eat.” Exill slid the bowl of stew towards the boy when he knelt down to check on the old woman.

Alden refused initially, but hours later, reluctantly ate when his stomach began to growl. Exill had to look away when he saw the boy try to feed his grandmother, spoon-feeding her small morsels as she drew ever shallower breaths.

Exill walked away from the two, frustrated there was nothing that could be done. Rolling up his sleeves, he sat down on the bedding beside Envy and found familiar solace from brushing her hair, glittering in the firelight while she fed.

They stayed like that for some time until she released his arm and sat up somewhat reluctantly. The Vampire had felt the tenseness in his arm while feeding, knowing his mind was elsewhere with the boy.

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“Let’s go. I’ll come with you.”

“But there’s nothing else I can do for her. I’ve tried everything.” He whispered, worried that the boy would overhear.

She sighed… wondering how he could be so dense at times with his apparent intellect. Shaking her head, Envy led the Witchdoctor to the old woman whose end was drawing near.

Despite the apparent maturity and wisdom beyond his years, Exill didn’t seem to understand some basic human interactions. She didn’t like to get involved in others’ matters but watching him struggle inwardly only aggravated her more.

“You don’t have to fix her. Just be there.” She gave him a firm push.

Exill awkwardly lowered himself beside the boy and sat there, doing nothing and watched the old seamstress draw shallower breaths. Young Alden eventually dozed off, leaning against his shoulder, and he covered the lad with a checkered throw.

It wasn’t easy watching someone die.

Like a spinning coin that was teetering on the verge of collapse, he could see the end, but it didn’t come easily nor swiftly. He made himself comfortable, leaning against the large fallen log arranged around the campfire, and prepared for the long night ahead.

***

He woke up sometime later to the sound of crackling flames, realizing that he had dozed off. While sleeping, Envy had sat beside him, covering them both with a blanket as she slept soundly, leaning against his shoulder.

Despite her comforting presence and the campfire, he felt a strange, troubling chill in the air.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw an unsettling figure, seated on the trunk facing the old seamstress. The man was dressed in a fine grey wool jacket, contrasting against his flawless ebony skin that blended in with night sky. There were hints of grey on the eyebrows and buzz cut hair, and his noble features were offset by eyes of the deepest midnight that appeared to assimilate the light around them.

“Good, you are awake.” His voice was like a deep caress.

“Who are you?” Exill was taken aback that he wasn’t more alarmed by the appearance of this strange man and sat up a little straighter.

“I have many names, but you can call me Arkadiko.”

There were many questions he wanted to ask, such as who he really was, and why he seemed so familiar. But in the end, the words that left his mouth was not a question, but a statement when his eyes came to rest on the still form of the old seamstress.

“She is dead.”

Arkadiko nodded, looking down at the silver canteen loosely held in one hand. They were the calloused hands of someone who had worked hard their entire lives, contrasting with his fine attire.

“She had words to say, and I came to listen.” He spoke as if burdened.

“What did she say?”

The burdened man sighed softly. It was the sound of a slow breeze in the darkest of nights, the sound of someone who had heard countless confessions whispered in their dying breaths.

“Her words were not for you.”

They sat in silence, staring into the crackling embers of the dying fire. Exill bit his lips to check it was not just a dream, for it was too surreal.

“Have… have we met before?” Back in Lindtree village, when he was smothered in hot ash under the table. Exill vaguely remembered the familiar presence that had accompanied him.

Arkadiko turned his considerable gaze towards Exill, the man’s dark pupils scrutinizing and swallowing him whole. Then, in an instant the pressure was gone, and he could breathe again.

“Perhaps… but you had no words to say to me then.”

They continued to sit in silence, until Arkadiko turned slightly to gaze back at something only he could see. Then, the colourless figure silently stood up, slipping the slim silver flask into his jacket pocket and donned a charcoal straw hat.

“It was nice meeting you Planeswalker, may our paths cross again in the next dream.”

In the time it took for Exill to blink, Arkadiko was gone.