In the fleeting moment after his question lingered in the air, a feeling of regret passed through James. Was he being rude by asking? Yet, he needed an answer.

The figure seated before him looked almost human—enough to deceive his eyes at a glance. However, his instincts screamed that something was amiss. A wrongness that he couldn't fit into place. Either he was missing something important or he had become increasingly sensitive since arriving at this otherwordly place.

The scarred man had a disturbing otherness that became even more apparent the longer James observed him. Meeting his pitch-black gaze left James' emotions shivering. Worst of all he couldn't tell where the man was focusing at all.

"Just as the fourth bell rang, I heard a muffled scream coming out of the alley. Knowing myself, I wouldn't have been able to let it pass without checking it out. I peeked through the alley just in time to see someone dragging a body out the other end. Had it been someplace else, I wouldn't mind it much, but whatever had happened, it had been done right next to the tavern. If Merek didn't have my hide for it, the cult certainly would. This is our territory after all." Ditr explained grabbing the pint's holder. "I rushed through the alley in mere moments, but once I emerged to the sidestreet I found it empty. I turned..." the scarred man said, his voice faltering. The bartender leaned his body against the back wall, crossing his arms.

"... and was struck twice; once on the cheek, and once under my arm. A knife bled me dry until life left me." His black eyes met those of his audience, one an old acquaintance, and the other, James, dawning slowly to an impossible realization.

"Now, Shadrahn lands call for me."

"You died," James said out loud in shock.

It wasn't his stillness of breath or the lifeless gaze, nor the pale, vein-marred skin that finally convinced him. It was the utter dryness, the sheer void of any moisture. The man was as desiccated as the desert below a scorching sun.

"I have," he confirmed.

His lips were cracked, his voice devoid of any moisture, his eyes tearless, his skin taut, each emotion etched with strain on his face.

"But how can you—?" James's hands fluttered, grappling for words that didn't come to him. The man forestalled any further questions with a gentle lifting of his hand.

"Merek, afford us a moment, would you?" he said, nudging James to follow him down the bar.

Had James given away too much in his quest for answers? He followed along closely, thinking nervously of ways to cover up his mistake. When they had a bit of privacy Ditr turned to him.

"Have you never crossed paths with a revenant?" The words directed to him were not so much a question but a statement. As he feared, the stranger before him had realized the extent of his naivety. Should he confess? Or try to cover it up with an excuse?

"Ditr, is it?" James ventured nervously. "Forgive my frankness, my aim is not to offend you in any way. I find myself adrift in this place, lost, I've never been to this Avi'Gale, never met a revenant, My journey here is recent and I would appreciate your honesty."

"You must hail from lands further away than I thought if the existence of revenants is foreign to you," Ditr slumped lower onto the bar, placing his elbows on the counter and holding his head. The man visibly deflated. "Here, all beings, in time, may tread the path to Shadrahn lands, as I will soon after. The blessing of the revenants cannot be denied."

James's acknowledgment was a whisper of a thought, true comprehension of what he had heard still eluded him. If Ditr was being truthful, and he at least looked the part, this place mingled with the afterlife, a concept so unfamiliar to him and everything he had known so far, that it stood in stark contrast with the life he had been living. A revelation such as this one would bring turmoil back home, igniting fervor and devout proclamations in its wake.

James glanced at the bartender filling orders. A part of the sadness he had spotted between the two men must have originated from this…fact. Ditr was dead, a revenant as he called it. Remembering a detail from their previous conversation he asked. "Why do you have to depart?"

The revenant's reply was tinged with sadness. "The blessing of Shadrahn binds me. The lost lands call to me with an allure that is impossible to resist. Every moment I wrestle with its pull. Luckily it is dimmed by the veil of night, the darkness shields me as it cuts off the connection to the lost lands. Yet once the light dawns, all my pitiful resistance shall falter, and I will be forced to heed the summons."

James absorbed the words with skepticism. The night offered a temporary shelter to Ditr, however how that worked was still a mystery. Still, he had an opportunity to ask the questions he needed answers to.

"Is the job that lethal?" James asked with concern contemplating the potential risks if he were to take on the role.

"If you're wondering whether you will fight for your life, I won't deny it, it might happen, but I wouldn't count on it," Ditr replied, settling onto a stool, making himself more comfortable. "But first, let me ask, what are your blessings?"

James, seated himself next to him, thinking for a moment his reply. "Blessings? Well, um...what are those?"

"I expected as much. I won’t inquire why you don’t know something so rudimentary. Or are you pretending?” Ditr eyed him closely, and James denied it. He had already opened up his cards to lie about it now.

"Do you know what these lands are called?" He asked, and when James shook his head he continued, "They are called the blessed lands, because, well it's easier to show you. Close your eyes and follow my instructions."

Taking a moment to settle himself, James followed along. Before him, the vast array of bottled alcohol-lined shelves vanished as he closed his eyes. Directing his thoughts inwardly, he waited trying to envision that something was there inside of him."

"Your mind is blank, empty of thought. Your heart pulses rhythmically, sending waves and waves around your body. Feel your heart, feel the waves of life traveling through. Your soul is a bowl right at the center of your being. Breathe steadily and focus on it. There is something inside it filling it. Gaze upon it."

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His mind was filled with thoughts, while his heart fluttered. He did every step wrong, and he wondered if there was a point in doing it at all. He felt a weight on his shoulders, they were stiff, probably from the ongoing stress of the night. Beyond that nothing revealed the bowl Ditr was talking about and that made James think all the more about it. The minutes stretched without result.

Impatient he opened his eyes. "I'm not quite getting it, I think. Am I expected to see something?" James asked, turning his attention to the man beside him.

"Take your time, you cannot rush this process. Shed your useless thoughts. Breathe evenly and visualize the core of your being," Ditr encouraged.

In his second attempt, James tried to convince himself that this was a session of meditation. The instructions were relatively similar which made him wonder if there was any relation between them.

He imagined the essence of his being. He didn't picture a bowl, but the rough sea. This perspective made it easier for him to focus.

As he contemplated the pulses within his inner self, something seemed to materialize between the waves. Perhaps he was pressing his eyelids too tightly, for his sight gradually began to fill with white spots.

These spots flashed rhythmically gaining finer and finer detail. Surprise thundered through him, almost breaking him out of the mindful state. They were symbols flowing between the waves of his sea. Concentrating on a few, they appeared unfamiliar, yet strangely he could read them.

"Blessing of the Wayfarer," he whispered as the words unfolded in his mind.

"Continue, then," Ditr urged expectantly.

"That's all there is. The Blessing of the Wayfarer," James said, a shiver running through him as he recalled Nadia's words. It seemed she had been right; he could perceive something within himself. He could not fathom what it was, but couldn’t argue against its existence.

"Nothing else?" Ditr's surprise was evident. "You must be overlooking something. Surely, you have a blessing of strength? You're quite built! Oh, this makes things more complicated."

James began to grasp that he lacked something crucial, something that everyone else seemed to value highly. He piled his feet one on top of the other, the floor’s temperature had started to bite him.

"I was a professional fighter if that eases your concerns," James offered.

"A mercenary?" Ditr asked, intrigued once more.

"More of a competitive fighter. Back home, we have tournaments for such things," James clarified. "I was quite successful, but eventually, I shifted focus to coaching."

"I'm not doubting you," Ditr said, his tone back to neutral, "but lacking any blessings makes this offer…challenging."

Feeling the sting of rejection, James made an impulsive offer. "Let Merek test my abilities. There's no harm in trying. If he's unsatisfied, we can then part ways with no hard feelings."

This push to prove his worth came from his current vulnerable state. Despite his uncertainties about the job and its safety, it was the only opening he had.

Ditr seemed to wrestle with indecision, his gaze shifting back and forth between James and the bartender. The firm set of his jaw finally revealed he had reached a conclusion.

"Alright, but I must warn you, James," Ditr began in a serious tone. "Merek is a close friend, and this place," he gestured at the bar, "is his life's passion. Your sole responsibility is to ensure it remains unharmed."

"I understand. I can do that. What exactly am I guarding them against?" James felt he at least needed to clarify whether this job involved typical pub security or if he should brace himself to fight mythical beasts. In which case a swift departure wouldn’t be out of the question for him.

"Have you never set foot in a tavern before? What kind of question is that? You're making me reconsider," Ditr countered, clearly taken aback by the question.

James quickly realized his mistake. "You're right, silly question." But reframed it with more tact, "So, I should expect to handle drunks…and break up fights?"

Ditr let out a weary sigh. "Merek will fill you in on the specifics. For now, let me savor my final hours among the living."

Shortly thereafter, James found himself nursing a second pint of ale, engaged in a light-hearted conversation with Ditr, the dead man, and Merek, who was soon to be his employer. Despite Ditr's somber appearance and lifeless features, James found him surprisingly likable. Ditr amused himself with stories of the lost lands, also known as Shadrahn, his soon-to-be destination.

It became clear to him that there was a lot of mystery still shrouding Shadrahn that not even the locals had pierced. They, however, didn’t shy away from discussing its nature, especially when a revenant was about to embark on their last journey. It was customary.

He learned that it was a common occurrence in Avi'Gale to spot a revenant en route to the border. What James found rather interesting, however, was that not every death transformed into a revenant. There was a trigger for the transformation.

Avi’Gale, as it turned out, was situated near this very border, a boundary no living soul dared cross. Ditr had issued a stern warning that resonated with James, "Never find yourself on the wrong side of the border come nightfall," a sentiment Merek echoed with equal seriousness. To James, it sounded like a rule grounded in common sense; the land of the dead was not a realm he wished to explore.

As the evening wore on, James occasionally surveyed the tavern's other patrons, particularly the trio at the table he had approached earlier. They continued their hushed conversation, paying him no mind. James hoped they had dismissed him from their thoughts altogether. He had guessed that their initial intentions were less than benign.

Gradually, the tension of his new circumstances began to ease, though he tried his best to remain vigilant. The light alcohol had helped warm him, at the expense of his alertness, and thus the effects of his disrupted sleep were becoming apparent. He had fought to stifle yawns behind his ale several times and did his best to conceal any signs of fatigue.

Relief washed over him when finally Ditr decided it was time to end the night—or rather, welcome the morning. A handful of patrons lingered still, savoring the tranquil moments before dawn signaled the start of another day.

"Merek show him my former quarters and any of my old clothes that would fit him," Ditr directed to Merek. "There's no reason to hold onto them. I won't be coming back.”

Merek responded with a mix of jest and sincerity, "As if I'd keep your room on standby for you! Honestly, I'm just relieved to be rid of your troublesome company," his words betrayed by the wetness in his eyes.

Merek handed James an aged bronze key, then gestured towards a small doorway across the room that led to the kitchen. Beyond it a narrow staircase wounded upwards to the tavern's second floor.

"Your room's the first one upstairs. It's not the most silent spot, but you should be the first to respond if there's any commotion. We'll sort out the details of your stay and payment tomorrow. For now, get some rest," Merek advised.

Expressing his thanks, James bid farewell to Ditr, wishing him peace on his forthcoming voyage, and allowed the two old friends their privacy.

His stride had gained a little bit of its lost certainty. The staircase to the second floor had just enough height for him to climb without crouching. With his first step upward his pinky toe met the corner of the staircase.

“Ouch! Damned thing,” said James, with an urge to kick back at it which he avoided for obvious reasons. He didn't have shoes on.

The door to his room was identical to any other in the Tavern. The key he held fit perfectly in and turned easily producing a low click. Locking it once inside, James went straight for the hard mattress and covered himself with a woolen blanket that was tidily folded on it. As he lay there, he pondered on what tomorrow would bring in this strange world he'd found himself transported in. Strangely it didn’t take long for him to fall asleep.