Dusk soon settled on the Thorn. The two wouldn't reach the summit by full dark, so Rorik decreed they make camp for the night. Quickly in the fading light, they gathered what few scrubs, lichen and other kindling they could find. Both kept an eye out for any food as well.

With some quick magic, the traveling companions ignited a small fire and huddled close for warmth.

"Did you manage to find anything to eat?" asked Nokorin.

"Just some wild mushrooms. We got lucky. I thought we might need to resort to sucking on moss to survive. Here."

He handed a few of the capped fungi to the youth, then popped one into his own mouth. They were spongy and dry, but nourishing all the same.

"Any success on your end?"

Nokorin revealed his bounty. "One lone strawberry plant poking out from the cracks."

They passed one of the succulent fruits to Rorik. He barely contained his joy as he bit into the strawberry, letting the juice explode on his tongue.

"Ah, my favorite. Odd for strawberries to grow at this altitude though, isn't it?"

Nokorin shrugged. "You are the wise one here, sir Rorik. Not I."

The sorcerer paused before saying, "Indeed." He regarded his companion skeptically for a moment, but let the notion go. The day had exhausted them both; He needn't dwell on the unimportant. Instead, he turned his attention to the sky.

A canopy of stars stretched over their heads from horizon to horizon. Besides warmth, there was almost no need for the fire. The thousand glittering celestial orbs illuminated the night well enough alone. Rorik traced the lines of all the constellations he'd learned in his long past school days. The Tiger, the Boar, and the Dancer to the East, and the Warrior, the Phoenix, and the Whale to the West. The old astronomy exercise brought some peace to his mind.

"After being in the city so long, I've almost forgotten how beautiful the stars can be," he said. "During the war they were my nightly companions. Did you know, that each one is said to be yet another of Galos’ children? Like our own sun. And just as our world spins around that great sphere, other worlds may circle around them?"

An involuntary "wow" escaped his lips. For the first time, Nokorin regarded the sorcerer with an expression, though Rorik didn't notice. A wry little smile tugged at the corners of the youth's mouth before they ate another strawberry.

"You are correct, sir Rorik. The stars are awe-inspiring. It's been some time since I last regarded them as well. I have not heard your particular theory before though. Perhaps we could discuss it more when this journey is over."

"I'm sure it's nothing your father couldn't tell you."

"Oh, yes indeed." They blushed, somewhat embarrassed.

A brief wind blew through, making their fire quaver. Nokorin pulled their cape around them tighter and Rorik cursed himself for not bringing one of his own. He moved closer to warm his hands.

"Sir Rorik... Do you still intend to seek the dragon's wisdom after the tests we've faced?"

"Of course, my young friend. I've come this far, why turn back? Besides, I still need to reunite you with your father."

"But what if I were not a factor? Would you continue?"

"Yes, I would."

"Then forgive me, but I must ask again. Why? For what reason do you seek Rainheart and his secrets? It cannot be for the wisdom's sake alone."

The sorcerer turned his gaze back to the stars, thinking how best to explain his motivation.

"My family was not one of privilege. We were servants to the governor of our prefecture, had been for generations. But when I was your age, we discovered I had a talent for the arcane arts. My parents, may the Veiled Lady keep them, did all they could to see that my talent wouldn't be squandered. They worked hard to get me the kind of education not often afforded working-class boys like myself. Knowing how much they sacrificed for me, I vowed to become an unparalleled spellcaster to honor my parents' faith in me.

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"To this end, I have followed many paths in my life. I have been a soldier, a leader, even an outlaw at times, to prove to my fellows that a man of humble origins can be as remarkable as those of noble birth. Even now, there are those who snicker and look down on me, despite my achievements."

"So you do this for their approval?"

"Not their approval so much as their respect. Many of the richest spellcasters, and those of long lineages, have attempted to climb the Thorn and win the dragon's wisdom. All have failed to my reckoning. If I can reach the summit, and succeed where none of them have, then perhaps they will give my legend credence."

As he finished speaking, Rorik regarded Nokorin's expression shift. His tale had not simply been fed through his companion's cold calculation, but had actually drawn a reaction. A subtle one, but still a reaction.

The youth furrowed their brow and stared intently at the fire. An almost imperceptible frown creased their lips. They were not angry, or disappointed, but caught by something unexpected. Like a general whose strategy has proved useless before its execution.

"A petty motivation, I know," admitted Rorik. "But I think of the other children like myself. Those from humble homes with a talent for magic, but who are not so lucky as I to take advantage of it. Perhaps if they heard of a man with the same origins as them who achieved something impossible, they will be inspired themselves."

At this Nokorin nodded, somehow mollified. Rorik had given up on deciphering the youth's thoughts.

"And what will do you with Rainheart's wisdom when you receive it?" they asked.

"Depends on what I learn from him. If the dragon's wisdom can be used to help people, than I shall use it to do so. But if it can only be used to harm..." the older man looked away again, but his gaze differed. Heavier, as though he saw ghosts in the distance. "I have seen too much misery in my life already, and have no wish to inflict more on the world. If that be the case, I shall bury the knowledge and do my best to forget it."

An actual smile came to Nokorin's face. "A good answer, sir."

More strawberries and mushrooms, an odd dinner to be certain, were shared between them. Seeing some real warmth in his androgynous companion caused Rorik to consider the youth again. Their age belied a cunning and experience beyond many the sorcerer called acquaintance. What must their father be like, this man who was, in a sense, Rorik's rival? Both shared the same goal, both overcame the same trials, but the man remained a mystery ever ahead of them.

The question lingered. Had he truly left Nokorin behind to keep them safe, or had he done so for more sinister reasons? A mountaintop was where children were traditionally abandoned. Rorik needed more to go on, a more complete picture of this rival, before he rendered a judgment.

"Now indulge me, my young friend. Why does your father seek the dragon?"

The glow in Nokorin's face vanished as the fire threw shadows on them. Darkness seemed to fall on the gorgeous night. The world shrank to just the two of them, an intimate space filled with only the crackling of burning wood. The dim firelight gave the youth's words a grim gravity.

"My father... He is a man not unlike you, sir Rorik. In our homeland, he too is a talented sorcerer, a hero that has done much good for our people. But he has lost much as well, my mother most of all. When she died, he plumbed every tome and grimoire he could find, searching for any means to resurrect her. He's become obsessed, though I fear I may be the only one who can see so. When his books offered no answer, he took me and scoured the globe to find one."

Stricken by creeping terror, Rorik said, "I sympathize with his grief, but necromancy? Such a thing is outlawed by the Magician's Guild in all lands but dread Hauntergast."

"Hence why my father now seeks the dragon. His hope, likely a futile one, is that Rainheart holds the magic he's so long sought."

Silence clung to the pair, a heat pressing on their flesh. Resurrection. Rorik found the notion hard to reckon. To snatch a soul back from the Veiled Lady, from death, was not only illegal but also the highest taboo. With their head plunged between their knees, the sorcerer could tell Nokorin understood this and the knowledge pained them. Returning the youth to their father may not be the wisest course of action after all, if the man was as lost as he sounded.

"Nokorin." Rorik moved around the fire to be closer to his companion. "Do you wish to return to your father? If you do not, I can offer you a place in my home. I will not make you face them again if you do not want to."

Again, a genuine expression, surprise this time, crossed Nokorin's face. They demurred and ate another strawberry. Tossing the stem into the blaze, they said, "I thank you, sir Rorik, but I must reunite with my father. To make one last attempt to bring him back from the edge, if nothing else."

"You are brave, my young friend."

Another chill breeze hit them like surf on the beach. The hot cloister they briefly inhabited was blown away and the stars shined down on them once more. Rorik stood.

"The hour is late. We should get some sleep if we're going to reach the summit tomorrow."

He extinguished their fire with a quick water-summoning spell. As the steam rose, he lay down on the rough ground. Nokorin soon followed suit.

When they awoke the next morning, the two had huddled together in their slumber. The youth had thrown their cape over the sorcerer as a blanket and snuggled into his scarf. Both appreciated the warmth and proximity.