Silence. The wind stopped, and the campfire seemed to brighten, chasing away the shadows that had crept, unwelcome and uninvited. Ben swallowed, throat dry. Jor sat, absently twirling her long braid as she continued her tale.

"The texts vary from this point on, but what is clear is that the Herald had repelled the Champions of the Dark and, somehow, halted the expansion of the tear. The Dark forces were without their generals and were summarily defeated by the army of the people."

"Ah, fuck. You always ruin the ending." Ainsle pouted.

"Ahem." Jor ignored the scarred woman’s comment. "That brings us to the present. Since The Battle of the Pale Lady, the tears have remained stationary. And while monsters do still infest the land, in places such as those of convergence or old labyrinths and the like, there have been no encounters with the terrible Champions of legend." She paused to glance toward Ainsle. "Recently, tears all over Aetheria have begun to expand once more. But wait, it gets stranger still."

Jor seemed to formulate her words. No longer telling a tale she had the experience of telling numerous times before.

"The outpost was created to investigate and neutralize threats that may occur due to the sudden expansion of the tear. In all honesty, we were a token force sent by the Council of Blades to appease the clergy. As you no doubt may have figured out, we weren’t expected to survive the operation." Jor’s tone suddenly went cold.

"Yep, send the ‘specialist’ squad. What? You want something to eat, how about a month’s supply of fuck you? Oh, excuse me, we seem to have run out of fucks to give." The Berserker went on a sarcastic tirade directed at seemingly nobody.

Ben looked at Jor questioningly. She flinched.

"Yeah. The Black Swallow Squad is notorious for its high turnover. Not that its members return after a tour and retire happily-"

"Because it’s the FUCK OFF AND DIE SQUAD!" Ainsle said as she stood and stomped off to the cave.

Ben was taken aback by the sudden outburst of emotion from Ainsle. The Squad Leader seemed embarrassed. She spoke in a whisper.

"I think you should know. It’s not my place to say… But I ask that you forgive her temper." A pause. "Captain Wilheim was Ainsle’s lover, as I’m sure you’ve surmised. They’d been together forever, even during her raiding days. She enlisted because he wanted to turn over a new leaf, so to speak. The only thing they knew how to do was fight, so naturally, they joined the armed forces of the Empire of Caemire." She turned to see if the Berserker had heard her.

"Wilheim had a knack for leadership, and Ainsle is… Well, she’s Ainsle. She wields an Avatar and was the brawn to his brain."

"Did Captain Wilheim have an Avatar?" He whispered.

"No." Jor paused for a heartbeat. "Avatars are… rare. I mean, the fact that Ain and I are here together is not something you’d see every day. Champions, or Wielders, have only been known to gather during times of great conflict. Anyways, from what I’ve heard, Wilheim was a formidable fighter. He could hold his own with the best of us…"

Her eyes softened.

"Right, where was I? Oh. Some time ago, after they graduated from the academy, he got into some trouble involving a noble. The details, I don’t know, but he was appointed as captain of a detachment that would act as a ‘complementary’ force to the infamous Black Swallows."

"Why didn’t they just leave?" Ben asked, curious about his gray-haired companion.

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Jor laughed, not teasingly.

"You could just leave, but that would cause more trouble than it's worth. Sure, they probably would’ve made it to some backwater village on the outskirts of the Empire, but if what I knew of Captain Wilheim was true, he came to respect the letter of the law and accepted the appointment. To break his contract would be treason. Anyway, when reports of the tear’s expansion came in, the clergy petitioned the Council of Blades to act."

The woman gazed out towards the forest and began to twirl her long braid again absently.

"And that’s how we ended up here. Bottom of the food chain. Lowest priority for supply and stipend allocation. Just…" She sighed. "Just a slow death."

Ben remained silent for a while. He digested all the information the raven-haired Archer had shared with him. Her gaze was distant, and she also seemed to be deep in thought. He had a lead. If he were to find answers, he’d need to go visit one of the ruins of the Old World. He organized his thoughts and spoke.

"Hey, Jor?"

She turned her head toward him with a raised eyebrow as she absently unbraided the tips of her long hair. Ben continued.

"About the ruins, could you tell me where to find one? Preferably one that’s nearby."

She seemed to consider him for a moment.

"I suppose you want to go to learn more about your people?" Ben nodded, and Jor continued. "There’s a site near a small village, about four days travel on foot from here. But I’d advise against making the trip. We’re not too far from the port city of Honeydew, and if I recall correctly, it's home to a scholar renowned for his research into the people of the Old World. He might be able to put you on the right path."

"Why not go to the ruins?" Ben asked.

"As I told you, the minions of the Dark have made their dwellings in abandoned mines, labyrinths, and the like. A sprawling, underground ruin is no different, and those monsters are old," she warned. "I doubt even Ainsle would be safe delving into those dungeons."

Ben nodded and decided that seeing the scholar would probably be the best course of action.

"Got it. Thanks."

"Ainsle and I were actually heading to Honeydew before we found you and the Priestess here. I planned on meeting my cousin before he left for the capital." She finished her braid and sat straight, crossed-legged. "With the outpost overrun, I suppose he’ll report back to the Council. Hopefully, they’ll take the threat seriously this time."

"Your cousin is a member of the Council of Blades?" Ben inquired.

Jor blushed.

"Well, yes… You met him at the camp. Eric Vasylius."

The young man felt his mind go blank. Eyes wide, mouth agape. He stammered.

"Cousin? As in, blood-cousin?" He asked incredulously.

"Yes, why?"

Jor’s shoulders stiffened, and her demeanor became defensive before realization dawned on her. Her eyes went wide, and she turned her shoulder as if to flee in shame.

"You… You were awake. That night?" She asked.

Ben held his tongue. She relaxed and stared at the ground.

"Shit. I knew it. I knew it would happen. Shit, shit, shit..."

She blabbered under her breath. She turned to Ben once more. The sudden, strange resolve in her eyes made Ben flinch. She spoke in a tone that seemed defiant, almost reprimanding:

"So, you know my secret. So what? I don’t care. The world is going to end anyway. You know what? Maybe I don’t give a fuck anymore!" She giggled. "Yes. I fucking love Eric. I love every damned bit of him!"

She laughed hysterically. Ben thought that the woman was having a mental breakdown. He futilely shielded the sleeping Priestess with both arms. Eyes wide at the spectacle. The once calm, composed Squad Leader had cracked. Worry pooled in the pit of his stomach.

"Gods! This feels so… fucking fantastic!"

She turned to Ben suddenly on all fours. He flinched and gripped Ann tight to his chest. A muffled sound came from the ‘sleeping’ Priestess. Jor scrambled toward the young man and cupped his hands in her palms before planting a kiss on his knuckles that echoed with a loud smack in the clearing. A breeze blew over the campfire’s occupants, seemingly passing by as if to say it saw nothing. Jor rolled over and collapsed on her back. The last remnants of laughter bubbled from her chest. She closed her eyes and turned her head in Ben’s general direction.

"Thank you." She said with a content smile on her face. "I’ve held it in for far too long. It feels… Good. As if a weight has been lifted off my shoulder."

Ben didn’t quite know how to react to the Archer’s confession. His feelings toward the Councilor weren’t the warmest, and he felt conflicted at the declaration of his ally. He took a few deep breaths to ease out the adrenaline that had begun coursing through his body and decided that he wasn’t in a position to judge anyone. What he did have, though, were more questions that he shelved for the time being.

The Archer opened her eyes and met the young man’s gaze.

"It seems as if fate has brought us together, Old-Worlder.