Milo awoke with the sweet smell of herbal infusion. He stretched his body and yawned, shaking the fresh sleep off of it as he sat up, scratching his head as he slowly opened his eyes and observed the room. Elm was up but barely awake, Henry sat at the table with Jesse to pack up rations, Surya put them in bags while Darya stood over a boiling pot in the kitchen.

From it floated the sweet smell of thyme, orange peels, and sage engulfing the house and making it feel like home for Milo. After a few seconds, he could finally move and prepare himself. He put on his shoes and took a jacket from Jesse's closet, with the demon’s permission of course. He offered one to Elm, but the girl refused, stating she felt better without one on. At first it surprised him but he said nothing, after all, she had gone through Dobrin dressed like she was and hadn’t fallen ill yet, so he figured it was alright. After everyone got ready, Darya sat them down to drink her herbal tea, maintaining it would help their immune system prepare for winter and their trip a little better. Milo’s heart grew with worry by the minute. He knew where he was going but leaving Jesse and Darya felt wrong to him. Something deep inside of him made him uneasy. As he looked around, Elm's gaze made him believe he wasn't the only one to feel this way. He nervously grabbed Elm's acorn and played with it, trying to soothe himself.

"Hopefully this isn't the last time we see each other," said Darya, her heart slightly heavy at the idea of leaving those children with Henry.

"I'm sure it won't be." smiled Milo, trying to lighten up the mood.

“We better go, the road will be long for all of us.” said Henry, his bag of provisions on his back.

Jesse nodded as he put the hood of his cloak on, this time concealing his horns. With a gentle smile both groups said their last goodbyes and walked away. Jesse’s group walked eastward while Henry’s walked southward, both of them prepared enough for the cold weather the early autumn had brought on. Milo and Elm followed Henry, the boy still supporting a heavy worry in his heart as they walked into the forest, the trees swallowing them away from the reassuring clearing and letting themselves engulfed by its now unwelcoming entrails. Silence seemed to drown it, birds sang too low, the trees rustled too quietly, even their footsteps weren’t as loud as they should be. Milo continued to play with his acorn, trying to focus on its shape and smoothness instead of his anxiety. Henry’s voice cut through the cold air like a knife.

“So you’re from Ektan, right?”

Elm quickly looked up to Henry, suddenly losing her focus on the forest floor. She nodded, letting a small ‘hmm’ of agreement.

“I’ve never been there, how is it?”

“Lots of noise, people and colors.” she answered flatly.

“Like any other big cities I guess,” he chuckled, ”It must feel weird to be a human in Sheyja. I heard they don’t even let the Saotie merchants in.”

Elm took her time to answer the man.

“It feels a little lonely but I’m used to it.” she finally answered.

“How long did it take you to come here? I bet it was a strenuous journey.”

“It took me a year. It was long but not too hard.”

Milo observed Elm closer. She never looked at Henry whenever he asked something, her eyes went from one tree to another, shifting around the forest and never resting on anything. Her pace was heavy, her arms were against her torso, playing intensely with her piece of moss while her neck seemed to send electric shocks to her brain.

“How about you Henry?” Milo jumped in, “What were you doing at Darya’s camp?” he asked.

The man felt cold to Milo for a second, like he had interrupted something important to him.

“I was studying,” he said, “I’ve been following Darya and noting down her anatomical discoveries.”

“Why?”

“Well, to make it known to the world of course, knowledge is useless if not shared.”

Something in the way Henry answered made Milo feel unwelcomed. His tone was usual but something in it was cold, uninviting, and he couldn’t point out why. He walked behind the man who had become a stone for the rest of the day. Elm had calmed down after an hour or two, quietly following Henry like Milo had done. Milo observed the forest, but he was mostly lost in his thoughts, trying to find where his worry came from. He quickly concluded that the knot in his stomach was because of his mother and brother. Were they even still alive after that night? Had Milanko bled to death, alone and cold, in that somber alleyway? Had the crows killed his mother as she fought them off to save her child? Sadness choked him up, the thought of Vesna and Milanko both giving their lives to save him made him desperate in a way he couldn’t fathom. He wanted to run; he wanted to come back to that night and stay put, better yet, catch Milanko before he even got out of the house and wake up his mother to make him stay. His mind thought back to the fight he last saw his brother. He had an impressive amount of blood flowing out of his stomach, like it would never stop. The sudden feeling of icy hands brought him back to the present. Milo took his eyes off of the forest floor and looked at his right hand. Elm’s spotted hand was holding his, a view that had become normal since the night they met. The young girl squeezed his hand, trying to reassure him as best as she could without pushing boundaries. For a moment, the sadness that had choked him up drew back, allowing him to breathe before coming back in force and forcing its way out in a shaky breath. Elm offered him a cloth to wipe his tears, he nodded gently, took it and dried his tears with it. As he gave it back to her, he couldn’t help but notice the embroidery on it. It depicted plants and spirits; the embroidery didn’t look professional, but a loving hand had made it. In the top middle portion was a word, written in a language and script Milo had never seen before.

“It’s my name in faeish.” smiled Elm, whispering her words, believing that speaking them any louder would shatter the silence that encircled them.

Milo smiled back, happy to learn more about her and where she came from. For a moment, his love for discovery and learning flickered, warming his heart sweetly. As the sun settled itself in the midday sky, their feet were hurting. They had stopped a few times to relieve themselves but other than that they had only been walking.

“Let’s sit down and eat a bit, okay?” asked Henry out of the blue.

He earned nods from the children and found a practical place to eat. As they sat in a circle, Henry took off his backpack and searched for their food. There, Jesse and Surya had carefully planned their resources, giving them enough food to fuel them for two or three days, and the blankets they would need for hopefully their only night in the woods. Henry took out three cloth-wrapped lunches. Little sandwiches filled with proteins and veggies, the bread that Jesse had made was surprisingly good enough to Milo who had been used to the bread sold in M.Saroyan’s market stall.

“Where exactly is Rosenbush?” asked Milo out of the blue, trying to make this meal at least a little more bearable for everyone involved.

“Near Murkley Manor.” Henry stated, “No one lives there since the family living in the manor has been executed.”

Milo stopped eating, almost choking on his bread. Henry had a look he couldn’t hide so well, one of pure hatred, one which didn’t give Milo or Elm any willingness to talk anymore.

“Eat up,” Henry asked, a smile on his lips, his harsh look replaced by a gentle one. “There’s still plenty of road ahead and we wouldn’t want to risk crows catching up with you again.”

Henry smiled as he watched the children eat their sandwiches faster, the thought of being caught fueling their hunger and their will to walk to Rosenbush in less time than physically possible. Once they finished their meals, they walked again for hours on end. Despite the pain in his legs and feet, Milo felt groggy, as if he hadn’t woken up properly or really needed a nap. The boy wiped his tears after he let out a long yawn, garnering Henry’s attention.

“No matter how sleepy you are, I’m afraid we can’t stop.” he said.

“It's okay, I’ll walk, I’m not exhausted yet.” the boy replied, putting all of his energy in his words.

He turned to Elm who looked worse off than him. She looked like she was about to fall from the tiredness. Yet, they couldn’t stop, not for a minute, not with crows searching for them. Milo took her hand and squeezed it, waking her up a little, helping her to keep her eyes open. They walked still until the sun dropped to the horizon, wrapping the forest in a golden blanket. By that time, Henry had asked to stop one last time for dinner and sleep for the night. Both children nodded once more, the weight of their day heavy on their shoulders. They ate their dinner, laid the blankets and laid down on it, facing each other as they huddled around the campfire Henry had made for them. Milo and Elm caught each other’s eyes. As Milo fought off the blanket of darkness that fell upon his mind, he saw Elm do the same. Except, she had a look of worry, despair even in her eyes as she shook her head, silently pleading for him to stay awake. Milo could only resign as his last strength left him and he fell into one of the deepest sleeps he had ever experienced.

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“Why are we even keeping that one?”

The crow nudged his comrade hard in the ribs, earning a groan of pain for him.

“If Viper says we keep him, we do it.”

The man sighed in response.

Milo stirred as the voices entered his dreamless sleep. The boy tried to move but his shoulders and wrists hurt as he did so. He slowly opened his eyes, still groggy from his sleep. The dim light of the candles couldn’t light all corners of the room, yet he knew he was in danger. His blood ran cold as he sat up with difficulty, understanding only in that moment how his hands were bound and linked to the wall behind him. The room looked old, unkempt. The wallpaper was peeling in some parts, dust covered the corners, spiderwebs dressed the top portions of those. The ceiling was high, higher than Milo had ever seen one go. The furniture looked old and worn out, but the richly made decorations proved their owners to have been wealthy enough.

“Whelp, the little worm’s finally awake!”

Milo wanted to say something, no, yell it. He wanted to ask where he was, where Elm was, but his stomach dropped as he took in their attire. Crows. Their hoods were off, showing him how rugged their appearance really was. Both were in their late thirties, both were humans, both hadn’t shaved in some time, hairs on the verge of turning into a long beard covering their faces. He tried to speak but his body felt too weak to put out any sound.

“Bring him in!” shouted someone from beyond the door.

The men approached him as he tried his best to squirm away, terrified of what they would do. One of them undid the rope linking the boy to the wall and with the other man, hooked their arms under each of his armpits and dragged him away. Milo whimpered with fear as words formed in his head but died in his throat. He tried to press his feet into the ground but the weakness of his body barely moved the rug they dragged him over. The men took him out of the room into a corridor. The walls and floors were as dirty as in the previous room, windows lined one side of it while doors leading the other rooms lined the other. Milo looked outside. The trees of a garden previously loved and cared for looked dead and overgrown. The grass was burned in some places and fully dead all over. His head shot around as well as he could when he heard screams and cries. A door was open and through the crack Milo caught sight of something that churned his stomach in the ugliest of ways. Crows were taking advantage of women, some cried or tried to fight them off while others resigned to their fate and let them do whatever they wanted. None were willing. Milo’s breath quickened as tears threatened to roll down his face. If anything, he hoped no one would find out he wasn’t born a man. The thought made him shudder with horror. He wanted to be home. To be with his family where he could just sit down with his mother and brother and just talk about what was bothering him. He wanted to be with them wherever they were. No matter where.

“Milo!”

He turned his head around as he heard the voice. They had brought him into his last room. It was just as dingy as his first and the corridor. Inside was a table and a few chairs. By the dim light of the candles, he could see two people. A man who was wearing a hand carved viper mask made of wood and Elm. They had tied her to a chair, facing the man. The sight of the red scarf around his neck made his entrails boil with rage.

“He knows nothing!” she shouted through her thick accent.

“I know.” Henry replied. “But he’s still useful.”

A cold sweat ran down Milo’s back. Henry had completely changed. He was standing straight, no more slightly arched back as if he was trying to hide himself from the world, his voice was cold and powerful, unlike the softness he had shown until now, his gaze was full of contempt for Elm. As the men dragging Milo tied his hands to a hook hanging from the ceiling, Henry’s gaze glided from Elm to him. A half-smile came across his lips as the crows left the room.

“Poor Milo,” he said as he approached him. “Lost your mama and your brother and now you find yourself here.” he chuckled. “You really shouldn’t have saved her.”

Milo opened his eyes a little more, the drugs finally wearing off enough for him to gain some strength back. He couldn't deny the sting of Henry's words.

"Watch your mouth," Milo seethed.

"Want to hurt me, little lion?" he mockingly grinned.

The invisible force took Milo's agency once more, and he head-butted the man so hard he swung back and forth from it, his feet barely touching the ground. In a second, Henry punched Milo in the face as hard as he could, sending the boy swinging again, his face hurting so much he couldn't feel it.

"Please stop it!" Elm begged.

"Tell me what you know about spirits," he groaned. "Or your friend gets it again."

Elm looked at Milo’s hanging body, and she couldn't hold her tears. He was hanging from the ceiling by his arms, his nose had bled from Henry's punch, and the man took out a dagger and lifted Milo's shirt to reveal his stomach. Milo shook his head, knowing that telling him anything about spirits would end up badly if they were so eager to get that info.

"Spirits are souls," she said, her voice shaking.

"Do you think I’m a child?"

Henry slowly plunged his dagger into Milo’s side, taking his time for the boy to feel every ounce of pain as he moved the blade around. He tried to hold in his scream but some of it still passed his tightly shut lips.

“They are the fabric of life,” she forced the whisper out, her eyes glued on Milo, “they are magic.” her voice shook.

Silence fell on the room. A smirk stretched Henry’s lips.

“See? You just needed a bit of motivation.” his smirk turned into a full smile that churned Elm’s stomach. “How do I use their magic?” he asked slowly.

A look of horror took Elm as she finally understood what he really wanted to get to.

“You can’t…” she muttered, shocked.

“I can and I will.” he exclaimed, something sounded like joy or excitement in his voice.

“It’s forbidden.” she whispered.

“What good is knowledge if it’s not shared?”

“Don’t tell him anything!” Milo tried to shout through his pain, the blade still in his stomach.

“You’re not part of this conversation.” he seethed.

Henry pushed the blade ever so slightly further into the boy’s stomach, making him hold back a scream.

“The elderstones!” she cried, catching Henry’s full attention. “The spirit spells are written inside the elderstones.”

Henry took his blade out of Milo, cleaned it on the boy’s pant leg, and put it back in his sheath.

“Elderstones is it?” he smiled widely. “Don’t you think I’d know entering them would kill me, you little shit?! How stupid do you think I am?!”

Henry screamed so loud, spit flew out of his mouth. He stomped towards Elm, striking her face with the sheathed dagger as he got to her. He forcefully took her by the chin, forcing her to look at him in the eyes.

“Anyone who enters a God’s domain without authorisation dies, everyone knows that, even you snake people.” he spat.

“Naëdre.” she said in a low voice. “My people have a name.”

“Glad you know it.” he replied. “I’ll ask again,” he said as he walked back to Milo. “How do I use their magic?!” he shouted, making Elm jump.

“Humans can’t use magic!” she cried.

In a groan of frustration, Henry pushed his index finger into his stab wound, making the boy scream in pain so loud, he was sure the whole manor had heard it.

“I don’t think you understand your situation quite well,” he shouted over Milo’s screams as he moved his finger around. “You’re alone, no one will come get you and I have all the time I want and need. Tell me what you know.”

“I know nothing more!”

“Liar!” he screamed at her.

Once more, he stomped over to her, took her hair in a fist and brought his face inches away from her crying one.

“Your people live with the fae, don’t you dare tell me you know nothing.”

Elm’s gaze went from Henry’s face to Milo’s hanging body. The boy breathed heavily, like all strength had been sucked away from him. A small pool of his blood stained the wooden floor underneath his feet.

“They keep their rituals in a library.” she sobbed.

“Keep going.” he said as he let go of her hair.

Milo opened his eyes wider as Elm looked back at Henry, burning a hole in his skull with her gaze. A quick look of disgust washed over Elm’s face before she slightly tilted her head back. In a split second, her jaw unhinged and sharp fangs came out of a pocket of skin on her palate. She bit down on Henry’s head, wrapping her dislocated jaw around it, the man screamed in fear and pain, flailing his arms around, trying desperately to push Elm away, failing every time he did so. An invisible force filled Milo’s upper body, and with a strength he didn’t know he had, he hoisted himself off of the hook, pain coursing through his shoulders and back. As he jumped to the ground, his legs took a life of themselves and he ran to the dagger Henry had dropped. The boy grabbed it and stabbed the man in the back, earning a last scream of pain from him. Milo wanted to cry as he pulled the dagger out and Elm let the man fall to the ground, retracting her fangs and reassembling her jaw. His tears and fear formed a bubble inside his chest, he wanted it to explode so it could finally ease, yet he couldn’t, something kept him away from the release he was looking for, and pushed him to cut Elm’s ropes off before she took the dagger and cut his ropes off.