The trip back was much less eventful than our time in Leeshan. After delivering the goods to the camp, Yasenka immediately announced her departure the next day. Her huge family didn't take it too joyfully, but no one tried to stop her. Instead, there was plenty of encouragement and promises of fresh provisions prepared for our trip. None of the illathan wanted to make her feel uneasy about leaving.

After a night of good rest, they bid us farewell with a hint of grief after all, but with smiling faces nonetheless. As we headed west, waving at them, I thought I saw the glimmer of blue gemstones somewhere behind the backs of the illathan standing in the front and I felt myself smile. The little lady was shy then...

We went back the same way me and Siaril came to the heart of the forest, along the same path subtly marked among the whispering blades of grass. After arriving at the Serelath Valley, Siaril led us north, slightly to the west.

If it weren't for Yasenka, we probably would have remained silent throughout the whole journey. She knew how to draw us into a conversation though, asking various more or less important things, always knowing where to stop when discussing any personal matters. Her loveable and warm attitude finally dispelled my gloom, and even Siaril seemed livelier than usual. I was right about her...

Sometimes I even wondered if she possessed some sort of mental abilities. On the second evening of our journey, when two rabbits were already roasting above our campfire, she caught a glimpse of Siaril putting away his sword that was as always wrapped in a piece of fabric, and covering it with his bag.

"Is your sword very delicate?" she asked casually.

Siaril's hand froze while retreating from it. "Not... really, even if it looks like it is. But it attracts too much attention sometimes."

"But it doesn't make much sense in terms of self-defense, does it?" I dared to throw in.

"Well..." he hesitated, as if fearing that his answer could seem dumb to us. "I don't want it to get damaged... I rarely even use it anyway..."

It really did sound kind of ridiculous, because the purpose of a sword wasn't to look neat, it was to serve your own safety. However, when Yasenka convinced him to show it to us, I instantly rebuked that thought.

This wasn't just a simple weapon. It was a piece of art. The hilt was made from some dark, greenish metal that I've never seen before, pure in appearance and sturdy by feel. The black leather surrounding the grip was spiraling up to the guard, which was adorned by a single emerald, delicately sculptured sprouts and a single, beautifully detailed green gladiolus.

I reached out completely unconsciously, some inner instinct wanting to touch the sword and wield it if only for just a moment. The next second though, I retreated my hand a bit, feeling Siaril's stare on me.

I looked him in the eyes hesitantly, but he just smiled and extended it to me, hilt first. "Go on, I don't mind," he said softly.

I circled my fingers around the grip and pulled the sword out of its sheath.

The blade was just as stunning as the rest. It wasn't decorated at all, but what mesmerized me was the material it was made of. It definitely wasn't any metal. My first thought was that it was some kind of gemstone, but that didn't sit right either. The blade was opaque in some places, semi-translucent in others, but not quite letting the glow of campfire through, rather seeming to capture it inside of itself, refracting and reflecting it endlessly. The color became slightly paler the further away from the guard, as if the tip of the blade got touched by a moon blue light that stuck to it permanently.

"Is this some sort of crystal?" I stammered out, my eyes never leaving the sword.

"I don't think so, but I'm not sure... I doubt crystal would be as unbreakable as this has proven to be. And it looks to me more like someone didn't have enough of whatever gem that was to make a whole blade, which is why it has those streaks..."

"Is it sharp at the entire length?" without waiting for an answer much, I stood up, took a few steps back and swung the sword a couple of times. It was flawlessly balanced and seemed to know exactly what the wielder thought of with every movement.

Siaril rose as well and I suddenly regained my senses. I was ready to apologize and give the weapon back to him, but to my surprise, he brushed my hand that held the sword and lifted it to a level just below my chest. "You seem to have a good understanding of the sword," he said as if it was something completely normal between us. "But with this particular one you might find it better..." he gently repositioned my hand on the grip, slightly spreading my index and middle fingers apart, "like this. And try not to put this much tension into the muscles of your wrist. Allow them to have a little more freedom of movement, let the momentum of the swing do more of the work for you."

He backed away again and I turned slightly to give it another few tries. It certainly felt better as I tried to follow his instructions, and the sword seemed to respond to my movements with even greater gladness.

"Where did you get it?" I asked, running my finger along the middle of the blade.

"It's a family heirloom, I have no clue where it actually came from."

"Oh..."

I didn't even register when I started to ask Siaril question after question and he started showing me things like there was nothing more entertaining to him in this world.

All the while I felt Yasenka watching us, and I could almost see her smiling. She knew... somehow she knew that if she brushed this topic, our minds would turn their backs on reality and start a boyish adventure of their own, starting to break barriers that I was too scared to approach alone.

I almost regretted being someone by whom these boyish adventures elicited a reaction in form of a grumbling stomach. But when Yasenka took the rabbits down and started to slice the meat onto our bread, there was one thing that made up for the spoiled fun: Siaril's stomach echoed equally eagerly.

On the third day after leaving the Silivren Forest and after a night among a cluster of trees close to the northern border of the valley, we set off at the chilly hour of daybreak. The red patch of sun was just appearing above the horizon, restoring colors to the nature, but in the direction in which the shadows were bowing, the world was still sleeping in soft grayish blue. We were approaching the forest, leaving dark tracks where we took the morning dew with us from the grass and stems of herbs.

"Why do I feel like I'm returning home?" I asked at some point as we walked the nearly invisible path, winding between the trees like a small stream.

"Probably because this is the very same forest, but some distance to the west from your home," explained Siaril.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Before I could ask anything else, Yasenka suddenly cut in: "Say... are you feeling alright, Sig?"

"Sorry?"

"Do you feel alright?" she repeated. "You're pale, as if you have a fever..."

I had to admit I felt a bit weird and was pretty tired, but I assumed it was the result of the long wander. I didn't want to complain and delay the journey though. But if it was showing clearly enough to be noticed, then maybe I really did catch something...?

"Well, we've been on the way for quite long," Siaril agreed with my thoughts, watching me attentively. "We will soon reach our destination, you'll be able to rest properly."

Indeed, not half an hour had passed until the soft sound of waves started to break through the singing of birds. There was a clearing ahead, I could see the sun's reflections on some large body of water and the outlines of a quite large building.

I blinked as we left the shadow of the trees. Siaril's acquaintance's 'house' was downright a little palace, its three storey mass towering over the surrounding expanses of long, silky grass. The main entrance was half hidden in the shadow of a small balcony on the first floor, supported by two pillars sculptured to look like tree trunks. A mid-sized tower protruded from the frontage in the western corner, cylindrical at the bottom, hexagonal at the top. Behind it I could see the border of a garden and a stable further back.

But, though fanciful and charismatic, the estate seemed a little run down. Only some of the tall windows looked like there was life behind them, about half of the grey walls covered in ivy that seemed to try to reduce the building back to its components. Behind it all spread the azure surface of a lake.

"This is... strangely beautiful," said Yasenka, tilting her head with a curious smile.

"A wealthy mage used to live here," Siaril explained. "He moved north when the situation between our races started to worsen, only taking his belongings. We thought it would be a good place to hide. And Light says he loves the touch of creepiness and mystery," he added, his tone seemingly trying to convey that his acquaintance wasn't exactly normal.

Before I could ask anything, the enormous front door opened with a creak and two figures emerged to meet us. One of them was an elegantly clad young man around my height, a mess of dark brown hair on his head. The other, smaller but massy, a big dog with silvery-black fur, looking more like a domesticated wolf.

"Welcome," the host greeted us with a cheerful smile. His face had something aristocratic to it, but slightly mischievous at the same time, his chocolate brown eyes holding a spark that gave away a rich personality. "I didn't expect you to return at full strength so soon," he put his left palm to his chest and bowed. "My name is Light. I follow my own path through the dark times, but with some luck our paths may run parallel to each other for a while." He then extended his hand to shake mine. "You must be Sigrian. Siaril told me about you."

I nodded. "It's a pleasure." I retracted the confused question about our host's name that came up when Siaril first mentioned it. It would be impolite to ask it now that he was here and pretty much confirmed that it was really what he called himself.

"Likewise," Light gave me another smile before his gaze turned towards Yasenka. A hint of amazement crossed his young features.

"Um... you'll make me blush in a second..." the young illathan muttered.

A tiny blush tainted Light's cheeks instead. Or it was just the sun's reflection, I wasn't sure. "Forgive me..." he approached her, extending a hand. When she did the same, he took hers and lifted it to his lips. "Light, at your service, my lady."

"There's no need to be so formal..." Yasenka smiled a little. "Call me Yasenka."

Light looked up a little, as if surprised by something, but the expression retreated at the same time he did, letting go of Yasenka's hand. "Allow me to introduce my friend, Sivath."

The dog waved his tail upon hearing his name. I crouched and the beautiful beast came closer, proceeded to sniff the trousers on my knee, then my carefully extended hand. He had the bluest eyes I've ever seen in my life. In them I saw that he already memorized the newcomers and categorized them as friends of his master, to which he could allow entrance onto the mansion's premise.

"You should probably get some rest, you look tired," Light glanced at me with a hint of worry. "You especially, Sigrian."

I lifted my gaze from the dog's silvery fur. Was it really that evident...?

We followed our host inside. A storied room with magnificent stairs leading to the first floor and a gallery surrounding it served as the entrance hall. The banisters were crumbling in some places, but a soft carpet that prevented the marble floors from emitting too much chill to the interior made sure it didn't look completely dead. So did a few paintings hanging here and there, looking like a fairly fresh addition.

Light led us up the stairs and through a hallway on the first floor, decorated with a few potted plants. Most of the rooms that we passed were empty and grey, only remnants of rust remaining in the doorframes. But the ones that were actually lived in looked magnificent, the walls covered by maple wood up to half of their height, the furniture creating images of comfort and harmony.

There was a bigger door at the end of the hallway, partially transparent due to the glass elements. It looked more like a flowery stained glass window that used only shades of blue, white and grey. Light moved a delicate curtain away and opened it.

On the other side spread the weirdest, and yet one of the most stunning sights I've ever witnessed.

Before us stood another, a bit smaller, building. The distance between it and the main part of the mansion was around twenty meters, which made the other building stand mostly in the clear water of the lake. Both parts were connected by a bridge at the level of the first floor, the balustrades decorated with a few lanterns in form of tiny towers.

"I made this part from scratch, for you three," explained our host with a hint of pride in his voice.

I suddenly realized that I was gaping, so I quickly fixed that and looked at him. "Siaril told me that you're a mage, but he said you're not very powerful... Do I need some update on what 'not powerful' means by your standards?"

"Don't let this fool you," Light smiled sheepishly. "It took me a few months to actually finish... I know mages who would take a few days."

"Oh... sorry."

"It's alright."

The surroundings were bewitching in their beauty as well. On both sides of the bridge we had a not very broad but wonderful view of the forest wreathing the lake, the shores lit up by golden sand here and there. The rest was unfortunately obscured by the two buildings.

All of that magnificence would have probably fascinated me even more, if it weren't for the steadily worsening discomfort I was feeling. A headache and a slight pain beneath my shoulder blades joined the deceptively harmless tiredness and feeling of heat, but I tried to calm myself by thinking that all those hours of carrying my backpack were at fault. I did my best to ignore Yasenka's concerned stares as we walked across the bridge and entered the smaller building.

First came a kind of anteroom, from which three doors led to three bedrooms. There were also two sets of curved stairs, one spiraling up, the other down, through oval openings in the floor and ceiling. Each of the bedrooms was dominated by an impressive bed with satin bed sheets and a ridiculous set of pillows in various sizes. The interiors were completed by solid furniture made from wooden elements creatively joined without a single nail. The fabrics in each chamber had their own set of colors: navy-blue, scarlet and a deep forest-green.

I peeked into the one on the right side from the entrance, because it looked like the only one that was lived in, probably by Siaril... and that was the last thing I saw clearly.

I suddenly got hit by a pain so sharp that I had to lean on the wall in order to remain standing. It felt like someone just stabbed a hot dagger into my back...

Siaril quickly noticed and rushed to my side. "What is it?" he asked, worry in his voice. "Sigrian, what's wrong?"

I managed only a faint: "It hurts..."

"Where?"

"My back..."

"Your... oh..."

The next wave of pain would have probably brought me to my knees if Siaril hadn't held me up. I felt his cool hand press against my forehead, then someone, probably Yasenka, freed me from my haversack.

"What's happening to him?" I heard Light's panicked voice.

Someone helped me to enter one of the rooms and lay down on the bed. I felt Siaril take one of my hands in his own. "It's alright..." he soothed gently. "He'll be fine, don't worry..."

"How, according to you, can this be translated into 'It will be fine'?!" it was hard to tell if Light was terrified or irritated.

I would have reassured him, because I suddenly realized what was going on too, but I didn't manage. I tried to focus on evening out my breath, because short, sharp inhales that the pain was forcing me to take only made it worse. It came and faded with each of my heartbeats... I just hoped it would end as quickly as possible...

And when the final strike of blinding heat made an agonizing scream escape my lips, the last thing I heard was Yasenka muttering something in what might have been the language of the illathan...

And as if on command of a spell cast by someone just outside of my field of view, everything turned black in an instant.