In gratitude for saving them, the village elder gave us the horse of one of the deceased travelers. It didn’t change much for my companions - Bann already had a mare - but for me, it made life infinitely easier.

We stayed in Apelfaund for another day, but the monk still couldn’t summon the fox spirit. He warned the elder about the dragon and advised evacuating the village, only to receive a polite refusal. None of us were surprised by this reaction.

This is their land. Their ancestors and children rest here. Besides, where can they possibly go?

One of the merchants had died during the slaughter, and his colleague allowed us to take some supplies. Chao-Ri picked hygiene products, Bann grabbed warm blankets, and I set my sights on various spices. Thus, tragedy brought us a small windfall.

“You’ll be called Ikke,” I muttered while stroking the mane of the horned bay horse.

“What does that mean?” asked the old man, sitting on his mare as she drank from the river.

“It’s my name spelled backward.”

“Not exactly brimming with creativity, are you?”

“Says the guy who named his companion after a dead dog,” I shot back, tightening my grip on the reins.

“A dog is man’s best friend,” the old man replied smugly, rubbing his nose. “You should take it as a compliment.”

“Keep your voices down; people are still sleeping,” Chao-Ri chided, tying supplies onto my horse’s back.

Her accent is strong, and she clearly feels self-conscious about it.

She climbed onto the old man’s horse, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist.

Before the sun rose, we set off.

******

Fields of fescue quickly gave way to tulips, and soon sunflowers gleamed gold on the horizon. We followed the main road, flanked by sparse, half-naked groves. Eventually, my gaze caught strange indentations scattered across the hills. Only by looking up did I notice chunks of missing earth aimlessly floating in the sky.

This happened because of some anomaly. It turned out that this world gets a lot of uninvited guests. Every time a dimensional rift opens, chaos erupts at some random point on the planet.

But am I part of the same category? I don’t think so. I’ve traveled between worlds before without any rifts…

When asked why this is happening, Bann couldn't provide an answer because he didn't know himself. But all of this is the result of an event long ago that turned the world inside out. The people call this event The Shambles.

That day, an unprecedented collapse occurred. Like thunder from a clear sky, the world began to change. Anything the wildest imagination could conceive likely happened here. Clouds turned to magma? It happened. Entire mountains materializing where cities once stood? That too. Earthquakes, climate shifts, rivers flowing through the sky, invasive creatures, and sentient plants devouring people. This is just what the old man listed. The record of such a massive event is many times greater. People from all regions of the world still face the consequences of The Shambles to this day.

******

Sitting by the nighttime campfire, I fed it twigs while Bann constructed earthen rooms for us to sleep in. Despite making almost no stops, we didn't manage to reach the next settlement, so we had to camp at the edge of the forest.

Chao-Ri handed me skewers of marinated purple mushrooms to roast. Meanwhile, she cleaned her musical instruments. We didn’t have much food - just some salted meat, which the bard had nearly polished off on the road. Since none of us were hunters, today would be meatless. But according to Bann, Velisatia is synonymous with the word “Hunt,” so fresh game could be found in almost any village.

Most of the continent is forested, so locals have relied on bows for food for centuries. I wondered if the forest spirits they worshiped minded, but the monk explained it was quite the opposite.

The spirits saw hunting as a natural part of life’s cycle. People took only what they needed and always thanked the forest for its gifts. Hunters followed strict rules: never taking more than necessary, sparing young or pregnant animals, and always offering part of the catch to the spirits. Thus, hunting became a ritual that reinforced harmony between humans and nature.

Gods, my mouth is watering! I watched the fragrant mushrooms roast. The smell was incredible - far better than the bland milk porridge I’d eaten in Apelfaund.

“Ah, I really wanted some soup,” Bann said, finishing with the magic.

The last time we saw a river was about five hours ago, and according to the monk's map, there are no lakes nearby.

“Can't you create water with magic?” I asked.

“You really don't know anything about spirits, do you?” Cutting a piece from an apple, he ate it right off the knife, then sat down on a log across from me.

“Nah,” I shrugged, answering briefly.

“My people pray to the spirits of the Mountains, which is why I’ve sought harmony with the local guardians since I was a child. Our bond is as unyielding as stone, and because of it, I cannot call upon the power of other spirits.”

“But you did try to talk to that fox spirit, didn’t you?” I asked the obvious question.

“Casual conversation doesn’t count. And even that becomes difficult if you’re already bound by a pact with someone else. So, the only way I could reach out to the guardians here was through a trance. Chao-Ri music helps a lot with that. But even so, the fox didn’t respond,” Bann said, giving up on slicing his apple and simply biting into it. “And it’s not the first. Apelfound is the third village we’ve passed where the guardian has vanished. That’s not normal. Something strange is happening in these woods.”

“Wait, wait, don’t change the subject. You still haven’t told me about the other spirits. I get that the Velisatians worship the forest, and your people worship the mountains. By the way, where are you from?” I bombarded him with a fresh wave of questions.

“Why so curious?” The bard’s voice carried the same detached indifference. “Planning to become a mage?”

“And what if I am?”

She sighed heavily and turned away.

“If you didn’t start connecting with spirits at an early age, you won’t be able to form a bond with them now,” Bann explained.

“Why not?”

“Without practice, the ability to sense chaos fades away from disuse,” he said, tossing his half-eaten apple to the horse.

He’d told me about chaos before. Apparently, it’s the energy that saturates the entire world after The Shambles. For instance, it’s because of the high concentration of chaos that those islands are floating in the sky. Only by mastering this wild energy can one wield magic.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

I wanted to pepper the old man with more questions, but I decided to hold off. Unlike me, they get tired, and in this state, listening to my endless chatter must be unbearable.

******

After eating, we scattered to the rooms built by the monk. The warm air that had gathered inside heated the walls, lending a faint sense of coziness. Once we settled in, Bann extinguished the fire and constructed the final wall, leaving a few holes for airflow. There’s a simple reason for this: we might be attacked during the night. But I suspect there’s more to it than just that.

This is my first day on the road with them. Even though I’ve given no reason to doubt me, the old man remains vigilant. And rightly so. In his eyes, I’m still a stranger who just joined their group. For all he knows, I might try to rob them or, worse, slit their throats while they sleep.

******

The fact that my brain can’t get tired is a real curse. The same thoughts keep swirling in my head nonstop, making me want to puke. Though, come to think of it, that might be the mushrooms. Despite the smell, they tasted utterly disgusting. The apples back in Aphelfound weren’t great either, though everyone else seemed to praise them. Is all the food in this world such utter garbage?

I don’t even want to think about it! I need to sleep, but I can’t… Boredom is killing me.

And that’s when I had a “brilliant” idea. I closed my nose and mouth with my hands and held my breath. If my brain can’t tire out, I’ll just have to kill it.

Yes, I suffocated myself to get some sleep. It was tough, but I managed.

It was all for nothing. A couple of minutes later, I woke up again. My regeneration didn’t take long.

Maybe I should… My hand drifted toward my pants, but I quickly gave up on that idea. In all the time I’ve been in this world, nothing has stirred down there.

I just want to cry.

***

We resumed our journey with the first rays of sunlight. The road took us into another sequoia forest. The old man handed each of us a straw hat in case pinecones started falling. I wasn’t sure if they’d help, but at least I didn’t have to worry about dents in my skull.

The forest was eerily silent. No birdsong, no chirping insects. Just the occasional crack of branches in the distance and the rustle of leaves overhead. Eventually, we encountered some wildlife, though my companions didn’t share my enthusiasm - the animals spooked the horses, sending them bolting like mad.

The first one was a bear - or, at least, something resembling one. I don’t know its actual name, but it looked closest to a grizzly: same size, brown fur, similar paws. But the head… well, it had two. Each head had a single eye, and it had two noses oddly positioned just below where you’d expect nipples to be. When it sniffed the air, those noses grotesquely extended, like an anteater’s tongue. And its mouth? The entire belly was an open stomach lined with rows of jagged teeth, resembling the maw of some monstrous worm.

Next, we were ambushed by a slimy monkey leaping between the trees, leaving a trail of sticky saliva behind it. Imagine a red-bottomed macaque fused with a snail. It even had a shell, from which tiny, squirming offspring peeked out. A pity, really - those young ones ended up orphaned. Bann had to take the creature down when it tried to leap onto a horse’s head.

The ones we didn’t mess with were the migrating herd of gray boars, their bodies covered head to toe in warty growths. The scene reminded me of that moment in Princess Mononoke. We veered off the main road and climbed a hill, waiting for about an hour until they cleared out. Thankfully, the tusked beasts showed no interest in us.

Watching them disappear into the distance, the monk looked troubled.

******

By evening, we reached a crossroads with a signpost. The settlement we needed lay to the east.

God, how I want a proper meal!

******

Some time ago, we began hearing a loud, rhythmic noise that grew louder by the minute. The unpleasant vibrations frightened the horses, forcing us to lead them on foot, feeding them constantly to calm them.

“I heard people talking about this place back in Brajka,” Chao-Ri said during a rare lull in the sound.

I had to wait for the sound to fade completely before replying.

“And what is it?!” I accidentally shouted, my ears still ringing from the noise.

“That's jötunn snoring,” she replied.

If I remember correctly, jötunns are giants. I’d love to see one!

“Oh, I’ve heard about them at a Brajka too,” Bann added.

“So you remember? I thought after that drinking spree, you’d forgotten everything,” Chao-Ri teased.

“Haha! You’re mistaken, my dear. That night, I was far from drunk. But even if I had been plastered, I would still remember such an interesting story!” The monk tilted his chin up proudly, trying to defend himself.

“You were definitely plastered.”

“Ten pints of fish ale wouldn’t even phase me.”

“Oh really? Then why were you mumbling nonsense the whole time? And let’s not forget how you pissed your pants by the end,” the bard snapped, giving him a furious glare.

Whenever they bring up events that happened before I joined, I feel like an awkward third wheel.

I never would have imagined he was a drunkard. But I made a mental note to have a pint with him when we reached the next town.

“So, are we going to see the sleeping jötunn?” I asked, trying to diffuse the tension.

“No. If we approach the quarry where it’s sleeping, the horses will bolt,” Bann replied.

Bummer. But he was right. I didn’t want Ikke getting even more spooked.

“At least tell me about it, then.”

“All right. Decades ago, a dimensional rift opened above Akutabi Quarry. A jötunn fell through and broke its legs, which is why it couldn’t crawl out,” Bann began.

“And how did it survive?” I interrupted.

“Listen and don’t interrupt,” he said with a forced calm that barely concealed his annoyance. “The quarry is home to giant meatworms. To this day, the jötunn feeds on them to survive.”

“Are they so delicious she can’t stop herself from eating? Is that why she’s been stuck here for decades?” I quipped.

“Stop interrupting,” Bann repeated, his voice steady but his eyes burning with barely contained irritation. I got the message and zipped my lips. “The worms aren’t called ‘meat’ for nothing. While the jötunn lay immobile, they’ve been eating its legs. That’s how they coexist - by devouring each other. Fascinating story, isn’t it?”

Just like me in that zombie village. Only worse. Her body probably doesn’t regenerate. And those worms… unlike zombies, they digest and absorb what they eat. So basically, the jötunn is eating herself.

“Nice try, drunkard, but you left out the best part,” Chao-Ri interjected, pointing her violin bow at Bann. “A few years ago, in the caves dug by beetles, people from the Blacksmith guild settled in! Their shells are made of the strongest steel, so it’s no surprise they were drawn to the place.”

“Nonsense! I heard about that too, but I refuse to believe such rubbish. How do you imagine it?” Bann shot back.

“There’s an entire network of tunnels underground, plenty of space for people!” Chao-Ri countered.

“That’s not the issue. Chitin that even Arak’kai can’t penetrate? And you expect me to believe blacksmiths can? Go ahead, tell me they’re smelting the steel right down there so I can fall over and laugh on the spot!”

I know a little about their dynamic. Is it normal for their arguments to get this heated? Feels like they’re about to tear each other’s throats out. Or maybe this means they finally see me as one of their own, so they’re comfortable showing their true selves.

“They are! Meatworms are brainless! The blacksmiths steal their eggs, strip the steel off the young ones, and smelt it right there!” Chao-Ri declared.

Come on, Bann, fall down and laugh.

“And the jötunn inhales black smoke to knock itself out! It dulls the pain from the bites! When it collapses, the ground splits, and the wind uproots trees!” she continued.

“Why don’t we just go see for ourselves?” I offered, tired of their bickering.

“Good idea, Ekki,” they both said in unison. “Tie the horses,” Bann added.

“They won’t get blown away with the trees when a giant falls, will they?” I joked.

Their scowls told me now wasn’t the time for humor.

******

As I expected, it was all a farce.

The only truth was the network of tunnels, which acted as a sort of acoustic system. And even that was likely the result of erosion, not worms.

The caves’ narrow and wide passages enhanced air movement, creating a resonance effect. Narrow sections worked like nozzles, speeding up airflow and amplifying the sound. That was the source of the jötunn’s “snoring.”

In a world full of chaos, it’s easy to believe in such absurdities. But this time, it was just some drunkard’s tale.

Without resolving their argument, we continued our journey in silence.