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A flame sparked to life. A crackle echoed through the air. Walls of a certain cave became washed in light. And a man got up, backing off from the flame he had just lit, looking at the source of the light from it as it melted away the dripping ice on the cave’s walls.

A charring smell filled the stale air, but the man paid it no heed. Instead, he bent down again, wrapping his arm around a mass covered with cloth.

Responding to his touch, the cloth wriggled, revealing a small, pale hand. On top of the hand, black flakes remained, unwilling to let go of the untold tale buried in the past. However, the man paid them no heed as he wrapped the hand back in the cloth, being as gentle as the icy weather would allow him.

All the while, his body kept shivering. His clothes dripped not just with water, but all sorts of multicoloured liquid, their origins unknown. The strands of his greying stubble hid the sight of his cracking lips. A dark shadow clouded his eyes.

The man’s lips parted. A sigh containing vicissitudes of life melded into the air.

Putting down the ball of warm cloth in his hands at a comfortable distance from the flame, the man turned his back to the bright burning flame, his shadow growing distant by every step.

Like a field of roses, a crimson hue spilled onto the snow near the cave’s mouth. The man’s gaze lingered on the snow. But after a long moment, he sighed, and continued onward.

Right outside the cave’s entrance, a rock slightly bigger than knee-length greeted his sight. He took a seat upon, gazing into the snowy, yet dark, sky.

Like the drops of blood on a canvas of snow, a crimson moon hung overhead amongst the river of stars, incapable of not drawing any eyes towards it. The man’s gaze grew tired. And the moon kept moving all the while towards the horizon. The cold winds made his body seemingly sway side to side. Yet, he held on, gazing at the moon in the sky.

“My Lord, we have finished the task you assigned,” another voice echoed out in the lonesome meadow.

Two people appeared before him, feeling as natural as if they had stood there since an eternity ago. All that could account for their presence were merely two pits per person beneath their feet, akin to if they would’ve appeared out of thin air.

The man’s gaze, glued to the crimson moon, never shifted. Nor did the two awaiting his audience. Not even an inch. After what seemed like an eternity, the moon touched the horizon, and the man closed his eyes.

“Another cycle just ended,” the man spoke. “Just like that.”

His voice echoed through the meadows. Yet it wasn’t directed towards the two before him. Nor towards anyone in the meadows. Neither towards the mighty gods appraising the world from the high atop their thrones in the dome of the sky. And there was nobody else in the meadow for him to talk to either. As for the cave behind him, he felt he had no right to anything but silence.

A glistening bead of warm emotion made its way down his cheek, disappearing into his stubble, before dripping down on the ground, reflecting the crimson glow of the moon within the fall of the last snow.

“Haah…” As if all warmth left him, the man’s face turned icy, as he stared deeply at the two before him. “Any news?”

“Yes.”

“Go for it,” the man asked, pointing his chin to his silent subordinate who hadn’t spoken a word.

Bending down her knee, the person who had remained silent earlier, a woman, spoke, “She’s alive. We last saw her at Skyl—”

The man raised his hand. His brows furrowed for a moment, before staring at the woman in the eye.

Understanding her lord’s cue, the woman stuttered, “Also there. All of them.”

The man nodded his head, as his expression softened a bit in gratitude. Despite that, the chilly look that remained in his eye betrayed all his emotions.

“Given the time, and the happenings, it must be at the architect’s nest?”

The other man nodded, not uttering a single word. Despite that, the air around him came to a still, spreading a silence sharp enough to kill. His hooded cloak fluttered in the wind, revealing the glimpses of the daggers strapped to his belt. His knees bent slightly as he leaned forward. Coupled with the cloth wrapped polearm strapped to his back, the man seemed ready to strike at a hat’s drop.

The rustic man waved his hand in response, causing the hooded man to dispense his aggression. The air returned to a calm chill once more. The three glanced at each other.

From beneath her own hood, the woman looked at the hooded man. Then she looked at the man lazily sitting on the rock. Bowing her head, she broke the ice, “If I may be so rude as to interrupt, what’s the next task on our agenda?”

The man on the rock smiled. “Don’t tell me you haven’t guessed it.”

Playing the fool, the woman shook her head.

“Go into hiding. Better, find a new place. For you people, the time to roam the world openly has unfortunately ended. I can’t take any guarantees as to any mishaps from this point on. I’m sorry, really, to betray you people like this. But I also have no choice. My hands are tied. This is something I gotta do too. I hope you can understand that. At the same time, I also wish that both you and your people can find the key to prosperity. As for the rest, it is in your own hands. I can only lead. And that too, I seem to be failing at, as of now. Still, I hope I’ll get better in the future at making decisions and all. Then we can all just gather around and party all night. My treat.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

The woman smiled at the man’s attempt to save face even at the last minute. She bowed deeply.

“Ah, before you leave, can I ask you for a last favour?” The man asked. “I have this one letter I need delivered urgently.”

While speaking, the man pulled out a folded letter from within a pocket in his pants.

The woman took the letter, before examining the address of delivery. Next, she dipped her head slightly before disappearing, like she was never there to begin with. All that could’ve proven her presence was her faint scent that lingered through the air, and the two pits in the snow on the spot she once stood.

Looking at the spot one of his companions stood until a little while ago, the man also dipped his head, returning the gesture of respect. Next, he faced the hooded man.

“As for you… It’s time for me to complete our side of the deal as well. Upto you how much you can decipher. From now on, you’re free to do whatever. Personally, I’d recommend Rhine’s. That city is a great place. It has all I’d ever want to stop by, relax, and have fun. Any place better you might've found, your choice.”

While talking, he pointed up, before slowly lowering his finger to the ground. Finishing his gestures, the man stared at his hooded companion, his icy eyes returning a trace of warmth.

Traces of a faint, indecipherable smile spread across the hooded man’s face in response to the exaggerated words and gestures of the lord he had vowed to serve. Putting his right land to his heart, the hooded man bent his head forward in respect.

However, the other man continued, “Do what your heart desires. Stop with all that nonsense. Life is not a fairy tale. And it would never be no matter how hard you try. For trying times like these, just sit back, relax, maybe pour a drink or two for yourself and others. It’s fun. As I always say, a man’s never dressed without his smile. And I’m sorry to you too. That’s the best answer, and farewell I can do. I’ll invite you to drink next time. For sure. Some apple juice would be good, right?”

The hooded man nodded, smiling beneath his hood.

The other man smiled back, returning the gesture. Yet, before the ragged man’s expression could completely manifest, it reflected an entirely different emotion altogether. A smile filled his face, yet it never reached his eyes. Instead, his aged pools of crimson reflected a world far colder than the world around him.

“Well, It’s kinda chilly here. So I’m going back to the campfire. Feel free to join. Your choice.”

Paying no more attention to the man proceeding to bow before him, the ragged man walked back into the cave, pulling out a dagger and a piece of rock before starting to carve while soaking in the flame’s heat.

Soon, his dagger met the stone, slicing through it like a sharp blade through grass. A session carving thus began. Yet, time waits for no one. Hours turned into a mere flicker before the man’s concentration. By the time he finished, the sun had almost reached the peak in the sky. Soon, it would’ve been noon.

The man wrapped his hand around the ball wrapped in cloth near the campfire, which this time, had a response even fainter than when the man had brought it in.

“This is going to be a tough nut to crack.” The man’s brow sank. “If only I had paid attention in classes. Too late for that now. Maybe in the next… Well, whatever. Screw that.”

Unwrapping the cloth, a metallic scent immediately assaulted his nostrils. Beneath the layers of warm cloth, a body of a boy lay still, as pale as the snow outside. The man caressed the boy’s cheek, feeling the black flakes covering the side of his head himself for the first time. Unknowingly, his shoulders drooped, albeit just a tiny bit.

Gazing at the boy before him with a gaze too complex to put to words, he closed his eyes and muttered, “I’m sorry. I too have no more energy to continue. I don’t think I have what it takes to keep on going in me now. Maybe this will be the last one.”

The man placed the stone in his hand on the left side of the boy’s distorted face, a sight best not described, which still bled by the slightest of touch.

The world seemed to come to a halt, as a crimson light far more intense than the moon earlier illuminated the entirety of the cave. The bloody scent kept on intensifying, before disappearing. The boy opened his eyes, one with a pitch black iris staring straight at the man, while the other was hidden behind a stony mask, alongside a tragedy too painful to even be seen. A bloody light peeked out from beneath the mask, shining at the man’s face.

Looking at the boy moving, the man’s crimson eyes came to life. A ferocious glow, in a different league of its own compared to that emanating from the mask on the boy’s face, concentrated at the man’s line of sight, seemingly ready to devour the world and beyond.

Before the boy could even take a step, the man reached out his hand, grabbing the boy by the left of his face. His palm landed directly above the mask stuck to the boy’s skin.

The world seemed to lose all colour in but a mere moment. Silence met the walls of the cave. Despite being filled with pain, the man’s eyes also showed a new emotion—anticipation. And what followed after it was a hatred blended with a deep sense of disgust, contorting his expression into a faint downward arch.

The man let go, only to pull the boy closer, and into his embrace. Rubbing the boy’s back, he donned the cloth the boy was wrapped within earlier, a cloak of his own, before carrying the boy and sitting in front of the fire.

Grains of sand trickled off by the moment. Yet the man sat there with his eyes closed, like immersed within a land he had yet to finish dreaming.

When the man opened his eyes, the campfire had long since died out. Only the rays from ru reflected out from the mouth of the cave. All the ice on the cave’s walls had long since melted without a trace. A stale scent filled the cave.

The now emaciated man gave the boy in his hands a glance, refusing to let go. Getting up while trying to not disturb the boy in his hands, he began moving out of the cave they took as the shelter.

The man made his way through the formerly snow-covered land, his each step crumpling weeds, and breaking fallen twigs or leaves.

Both his hands never let go of the boy in his grasp, no matter if his path was a road well trodden, or a new expanse full of weeds. As if reflecting all that the man couldn’t put to words, the skies cried for him, while the winds howled a scream the man had long forgotten. Trees sang the melody of despair, while the cries of falling leaves added their voice to complete the cacophony.

Despite that, not once did his step falter, as he made his way to the entrance of a nearby mountainside village.

Taking advantage of the stormy weather, the man snuck into the mountainside village. Following the lay of the streets tugging at the threads of his memory, he made his way to one of the many similar looking, albeit a slightly bigger than average shack. A faint reminiscence tugged at the corner of his lip. A smile—a true smile, unlike before—broke out on his face.

Stopping before the front door, the man looked at the boy in his hands. The man’s other hand reached out to the boy’s face, but stopped in its tracks. His smile shifted in its place, from on his face to over his heart.

“Aargh!”

As if in a fit of anger, the man growled while snapping his head to the side. He pushed his hand forward to caress the face of the child in his arms, wiping away the grime and flakes on the boy’s face. Pulling out a bandaid he got his hands on from who knew where, he wrapped it around the left side of the boy’s head.

Looking at the boy with a mixture of emotions, the man muttered, “I’m going to call quotes here. As selfish as it sounds, the path ahead is now yours. I don’t care. Do whatever. This… This is the end of my journey….”

Heaving a defeated sigh, the man knocked on the door.