The sun shone over the tall fortifications of the twin hills, the blessing of the sun, Soren's lantern, the promise of a brighter future to both the defiant peasants and the magical party.

Closer to the ground in the center square of the new central keep, the mushroom guardian gave his last farewells to friends and family as the three outsiders patiently waited by the open fort gates.

“Watch out for bandits!”

“Be safe, Eren.”

“Make sure you come back one day!”

The villagers of the twin hills peasant fort bid their guardian a warm goodbye as he waved to them and walked towards the expectant wizard and his companions.

One goodbye still remained; the young spotter stood in front of his mentor. Tears began to form as he stood to attention and gave one last salute to his dearest friend.

To his surprise, instead of giving him another salute, the mushroom simply moved forward and hugged him. Tears began to flood the young spotter’s eyes as he felt that his guardian’s warmth dwarfed that of the sun. As if fighting to let his instincts be free, the spotter lowered his saluting hand and hugged his friend back.

The spongy pacifist’s body felt warm to the touch. After a few seconds, the guardian let go of his apprentice. He looked him in the eyes and said with a proud inflection, “I know you'll make our village proud, Marco. Take care of them.”

At these last words, the shock of love and approval was too much to bear and the spotter fell back into the pacifist guardian. He tried to recompose himself and as he stepped back he cleared his tears away and said, “I will. I'll make you proud, Eren.”

“I know you will,” the guardian said warmly as he fixed his old mercenary pack and prepared to finally leave the place that had saved him.

“Eren! Wait,” the spotter said, spurred on by impatient looks from the crowd as they urged him forward.

The mushroom looked back as his apprentice reached for something inside his own satchel.

“We tried our best to fix it . . . We were gonna give it back to you next Leavsfall, but—well, you know.” The spotter took a curious item from his satchel, hidden away underneath wraps of cloth and bounded by string.

The jeru's neural web began to vibrate with excitement as he recognized the shape of the metal underneath the wraps. He raised his arm and reached for his friend’s gift. As he held it in his hand, he removed the cloth and saw his hopes confirmed. “My old folding knife. You fixed it.”

“Well, we all did,” the young spotter said as the mushroom became overcome with emotion as he saw the smiles on his friends and family.

He cleared his eyes from tears. “Everyone . . . You have done so much for me. You saved me, fed me. You gave meaning back to my life. I don't think I could ever properly repay you but I promise that just like you have made me so proud, I too will make you proud of being my friend and neighbor.”

Cries and farewells flooded the mushroom as he finished. The jeru gave one last look to his protege and said before he turned to join the wizard, “Be safe, Marco.”

“Be safe, Eren,” he answered back. Like that, the mushroom walked towards the wizard and his companions by the front gate and prepared to leave.

“Ready?” Thalon asked as he adjusted his broad yellow pointy hat.

“Ready.”

“Onwards to adventure!” the fernian said as she proudly took the initiative and began to walk outside the fort.

Wishes of good fortune, luck, and hope cried out from the battlements of the fort as they became flooded with the masses of villagers who bid their friend farewell.

“They are good people,” the wizard said with a warm inflection, to which the guardian merely answered, “They are.”

The warm wishes slowly disappeared into silence. Soon enough, even the divine fortifications disappeared as they were swallowed by the vastness of the Land of Legions and the warm prayers of love and hope gave way once more to the unnatural quietness and eeriness of the Human Heartlands.

“I hate this place,” the fernian mused as she broke through the silence of the Cradle of Mankind.

“Me too, Fi. Me too,” the wizard mused as in the sky, the light of the sun became clouded. Once more, the party walked and wondered what else this land would have in store for them.

Cloudy skies continued to shadow the party as they made their way through the plain. The wizard's voice now effortlessly broke through the quietness. The previous fear and anxiety from the unnatural silence had turned into a boring feeling of monotony, albeit a careful alert monotony.

“And that's when we saw your village and, well, you know the rest now Eren,” the wizard said as his voice cut through the vast plains.

“Hmm. I see you three have been through a lot,” the mushroom guardian said. Behind him, the fernian continued to shower the jeru with her never-ending awes and oohs.

The monk picked up the pace. “Too much flying for my taste if you ask me. And =-Fiona! Stop that!” He berated the forest girl as she poked her new companion and began to even try to tear a bit of his mushroom cap to put it in one of her empty glass vials.

The fernian quickly hid away her vials and suspiciously hid her hands behind her back as she tried to deflect the monk's aggressive look. “Huh, I wasn't doing anything.”

The jeru chuckled as he heard the fernian. “Your lying could use some work. Let me guess, never seen a jeru before, have you miss?”

“Well, no not really. I'm sorry if I was being too touchy, it's instinctive for me considering you are a . . . you know.”

“A mushroom?”

“A fungus. You know what they say, can't spell fun without gus.”

Both the monk and wizard looked back with incredible scorn as they heard Fiona's “joke.” Fiona felt her soul being crushed as the deafening silence of the Land of Legions accentuated how much of a non-joke it was.

In the fernian’s mind, even the plants and grass that were her domain, if they could talk or had a will of their own, would surely rather succumb to drought and fire than have to hear such a thing again. Alas though, one voice came to her rescue. One soul dared to bless her with approval and happiness. The awkward and overbearing silence of judgment was broken as the Jeru began to laugh at the fernian bad joke and he said with a hint of pride. “You know what, I guess you are right.”

“No, please Eren, you are too kind. No, seriously. You don't have to encourage her.” the monk said sternly as he saw as a great wide grin set itself upon the fernian’s face.

“Aw, you two are too harsh on the poor girl. I heard worse in the brotherhood,” Eren said with a smile. Fiona stood behind him and stuck her tongue out at the monk.

“Yea!” she said. “For once, I'm glad we have someone who appreciates my deep-rooted humor.”

“That doesn't even make sense! What does that mean? Do you know what words mean?” the monk bellowed out as the fernian taunted him from behind her mushroom guardian.

“I don't know, book peddler, you know words. What do they mean, hmm?”

“Alright you two, stop fighting back there. Griff, you know the only rules her tribe follow are the rules of nature so stop trying to teach her the rules of grammar or comedy. And you, Fiona, don't push Griff around so much. Poor guy’s gonna collapse if he thinks too hard about what you say to him. We are still in dangerous territory. I need both of you to be focused.” Thalon said, for the first time with a distinctive leader-like voice. To their surprise, both the fernian and monk apologized to one another.

The monk then began to walk further ahead to talk with the wizard. In the back, Eren removed a little bit of matter from his head's mushroom cap and gave it to Fiona. “Here you go miss, wanted a sample, right?”

Fiona looked in awe at the gift, seeing the small tear in the edge of his mushroom cap. “Really? Is it gonna be ok for you?”

The mushroom smiled as he said, “Oh yeah, don't worry. In a few hours it’s gonna grow back.”

“Wow,” the fernian said as her sense of wonder was renewed by her new friend. She wondered what the possibilities of this mushroom cap were.

The monk matched the wizard's speed and as he stood by his side, he saw the wizard looking farther out, not towards the horizon but somewhere even farther away. The wind blew over in front of them as if trying to keep the wizard from continuing. But at this point it was too late. The late afternoon light hung over the party. Just like the end of the day and the beginning of the night, so too did the wizard seem to change.

Griff looked into the pensive and conflicted expression upon Thalon's face. “Thalon? What's wrong? You have been acting differently since yesterday night.”

Thalon considered the question for a while. He mulled it over and as he retracted his gaze back towards the silent plains and to his companion. “I don't know. It's just . . .”

The weight of the world felt heavy and just like the daylight slowly beginning to slip away, so did the wizard's zeal and certainty. “I'm not sure if this is the right thing to do.”

The monk was shocked as he heard his friend and he prodded. “What? What do you mean? Aren't you the self-professed heretic liberator of Vaelia?” He couldn't help himself adding a bit of sarcasm into his statement.

Thalon looked back to the monk with an unimpressed stare. He sighed. “I never called myself a heretic. It's just that I spent my whole life in the service of the gods. Sure, I never met all of them. But those that I did interact with were—well, you know what I have told you.” Griff nodded.

“And after I discovered Parhon in the gods’ library I felt betrayed. I took their abuse because I thought I deserved it. I mean, who was I to speak against the ones who created us and everything we know. But with the Parhon suddenly, I realized they were frauds. That I took their abuse for nothing.” The monk raised an eyebrow as he wondered where the wizard was getting at.

“I was so angry, so frustrated so . . . disappointed. I wanted to do something about it. So I went on this quest to bring the truth forwards, to reveal the gods as the uncaring, lying monsters I saw them.”

“But what changed then?” Griff wondered out loud as he tried to make sense of why Thalon was so distraught.

The wizard lifted his head and felt the cold breeze of the wind blowing against his cheek. “It's not about what's changed Griff, it’s about what I was missing.”

“What were you missing?” the monk wondered as the late afternoon sun began to give way to a golden and orange sunset.

“Just like I was blinded by the gods when I was a novice, when I discovered Parhon I was blind to the world,” Thalon said as Fiona and Eren joined the duo and listened wordlessly. “I lived my whole life trapped within two holy palaces. Sure, I knew about the world, read about it. But I never experienced it until now.” The grass and weeds of the silent plain swayed in the wind as the wizard contemplated the vast liberty of the world.

The wizard gave a quick glance back to the fernian and the guardian and as he looked back towards the plain he continued, “The Eri and now the Twin Hills. Two times now, we have met and found gods who actually care about their kin, that protected them and kept them safe from the tyranny this world has to offer. And kin who loved their protectors back.”

The monk was shocked as he heard his friend. “You're losing faith in your own lack of faith. That's . . . interesting.” Rather than taking notes, as he was bound to do, he pushed that need aside and instead asked his friend. “But Thalon, you knew that not all the gods were as evil as the obscured ones. Why does this surprise you so much?”

Thalon raised his eyes. “It wasn't just the obscured gods who abused us back in the Holy Palace, Griff. It surprises me because the kin don't care. They don't care or seem to mind the fact the gods have lied about the afterlife. They don't care that their souls are obliterated and absorbed when they die. As long as they are safe in this one plane and the gods guide them, they are happy.”

Fiona stepped forward and interrupted the wizard. “Pointy Hat, our Lady Flora didn't take our souls, remember? Maybe not all the gods are as bad as you think they are.”

Griff too stepped in and added, “That's what I have been trying to tell him all this time. Thalon, I know you have been through a lot and the truth you discovered is indeed very important, but you need to realize, the common kin are not usually monks or philosophers. To them, it doesn't matter if what the gods say is true or not, as long as the gods’ words give their life meaning, hope, and protect them. That's all they want.”

Thalon thought about his friends’ words for a long while. He felt as his soul itself was twisting and turning as he wondered where to go. Finally, he said, “It does matter. They may not care about it, but it’s still important. The evils of this world exist because the gods allow them to exist. They protect the kin from monsters of their own making.”

Griff's expression changed to one of incredible frustration as he heard his companion. He counter argued. “Thalon, you know that's not true. Lady Flora, for example, had nothing to do with the horror that Jut or Nialasach unleashed.”

“As weak as she claims to be, she's still a goddess. She had influence in the Celestial Court to plea to Fortuna to put a stop to it but she didn't,” Thalon expelled as the wind began to pick up strength and intensity.

“Thalon, you have lived among them. You know that just as hard as it is for a mayor to appeal to a king, so it would be for Lady Flora to appeal to Fortuna.”

Thalon grumbled as he heard the monk's words and he said under his breath, “It doesn't need to be. They could come together—work to put a stop to the horrors from the obscured gods and bring about prosperity and peace for the kin. But they are just so selfish.”

“What about the selfishness of the kin?” Griff asked.

The memory of Tomin the legionary echoed in the wizard’s mind. He thought back to what had happened to him, the suffering inflicted not by divine power or abuse, but by mortal greed and negligence. Thalon considered his words and a thought formed inside his mind, perhaps spurred on by Parhon. “I guess we were made in their image. We can be just as bad as they are.”

“Pointy Hat, do you think we are monsters?” The wind suddenly stopped as the fernian questioned the wizard.

The world fell silent and in Thalon’s head, the weight of her question seemed to tear through the fabric of reality itself.

A light emerged from behind the fernian, illuminating the growing darkness of his soul. Her golden light set him ablaze and the wizard felt all of his doubts melt away as his soul became filled with hope and purpose yet again. He smiled at the question from his friend. “No, no, I don't think you are monsters, Fi.”

The fernian flashed a warm smile. “Then, just like there are good and bad kin in the world, there are also good and bad gods. I don't think it’s what we are that makes us bad, it’s who we are, you know?”

The wizard smiled back at his friend and as he looked warmly to her, he said, “Yeah, I guess you're right Fi.” The thought stirred within him a bit longer and as he straightened his back and renewed. “I need to dwell on that. We should prepare to camp out, it's getting late.”

“You know, it’s never too late to repent and pray for forgiveness, Thalon,” Griff tried to add to the fernian’s triumph.

The wizard pointed to some nearby stone arches and ruins and the party proudly agreed and nodded. The monk stepped back and said with a surprised look to the fernian, “It seems I underestimated you Fiona. We should try having a theological debate someday.”

Fiona laughed. “I don't know what that is, but let's not.”

“Of course you don't . . .” the monk finished as he followed the wizard and the group entered the stone ruins and prepared to camp out for the night.

The ruins rested on the open plain. Strewn about the field lay the remains of some long-lost common hall that had nearly vanished. The only thing that remained now were a few stone doorway arches, three stone pillars, the vestiges of a fallen wall, and its many scattered large stone boulders that once formed the foundations of the building.

The party sat by the middle of the once-great hall, sheltering from the wind behind the stone.

As the wizard sat down in a collapsed boulder, his gaze followed the pillars up and he examined the collapsed roof. Beyond it, he could almost see the night stars piercing through the thicket of twilight.

Rubble and wooden detritus littered the ground. On the grass and stone-tiled floor, the fernian began to sift through the archaeological garbage for something combustible.

Closer to the wizard, the monk took notes and inspected the architecture of the ruins. He paid particular attention to the shape and style of the three pillars. Whatever marks were left had been washed away by the elements, but he tried to find the meaning and history of this campsite.

Opposite to the wizard, the guardian jeru set up a simple triangular military tent as the light of the sun began its gradual disappearance.

“Oh, you got a tent, Eren?” the wizard said, pleased, as he moved towards the mushroom.

“Yea. It's my old Brotherhood tent. Should be enough for three people at least. I can stand guard if you want. I don't need much sleep.”

“Oh I see. Is that a jeru trait?” Thalon eyed the jeru.

“What? No, I just have problems sleeping.”

“Oh.” the wizard said awkwardly. When the silence of the plain became too much to bear, he asked, “Mind if I help you set up the tent?”

“Sure.” The jeru enthusiastically passed on the ropes and the duo began their work on the tent.

The sun continued its descent and after a few minutes, the first light of the moon began to fall into the ruins of the common hall. The party rejoined each other as they finished their campsite preparations.

With one last sigh, the wizard wiped his brow. “There we go. It's gonna be nice having some cover on the road again. Thanks, Eren.”

The jeru patted the wizard on the back as he said, “No problem my friend. I promised I would look after all of you after all.”

“This should do it!” Fiona said as she let go of a pile of wooden trash and rubble and began working on setting up a proper campfire.

“Resourceful as ever Fi,” Thalon complimented. He and Eren sat down on the stone boulders around the growing flame. “Griff, how are we doing for food?” he asked, turning to look at the monk scouring through their packs.

“Should still be good. We did just resupply at the Twin Hills after all,” the monk said as he brought to the campfire assorted meats and vegetables wrapped in a clean cloth bag. “Once we get the fire going, I can make some of my Road Stew.”

“Hmm, stew.” the fernian began to fantasize.

“Fi! The flames!” Thalon warned Fiona as she quickly returned to her job.

“Oh right, sorry.”

“I can't wait to try it out, Master Griff. Been a long time since I have had food on the road,” the jeru said as he began to look through the produce the monk had brought.

“Hope you don't mind me asking, Eren, but what do the jeru mostly eat?” the wizard asked, intrigued with the culture of the mushroom people of the Free Mountains.

“Anything, really. We jeru can even survive on the nutrients in the ground floor. Only issue is that it takes a long time to get a full course meal out of that,” he said, his mouth watering at the prospect of solid food.

“Is it fine for you to eat this then?”

“Oh of course. Remember, I said we can—doesn't mean we want to. Normal kin food has always been tastier, filling, and just overall better than what passes for traditional jeru food in the Free Mountains.” A shiver went down Eren’s central web as he remembered his childhood diet.

“Well we'll be glad to share it with you,” Thalon said warmly. In front of them, closer to the campfire, a cry raised itself to skies.

“Shazow!” Fiona bellowed out as flames took hold and began to burn through the tinder of priceless historical wooden artifacts. “We have fire!”

“Nice job Fi!” Thalon proudly complimented her.

“Indeed. Now we can get to some cooking,” Griff said as he got up, placed the pot above the fire, and began his work of cooking for the night.

As the moon began to show itself in the growing night sky, the monk began his nightly cooking. Behind him, the wizard admitted, “You know I think I'm getting used to this place.”

“Yeah the silence doesn't bother me that much anymore either.” Fiona said.

“You get used to it,” said Eren. “You learn to see the beauty in the desolation after a while.” His battle-scarred eyes bore witness to his words.

Closer to the pot, just as the monk added the various ingredients to his broth, so too did he add his opinion to the mix. “I'll tell you what. It's nice to not have to worry about bandits or monsters for once. As eerie as this place is, at least there's that.”

“I wouldn't be so sure about it,” said Eren. “Just because we can't hear them doesn't mean they aren't there. I can guarantee you that Heartlands rogues are the worst of them all. They are as silent as assassins and at night are near impossible to spot or see.”

“If they are so impossible to see, how do you know they exist at all?” The fernian said with an inquisitive look as the wizard nodded in agreement.

“Fi's got a point,” he said.

“Oh I know they exist. I have had my share of encounters with looters, bandits, and thieves when I was campaigning around here. You would look away for one second and your supplies or equipment or money would be gone. Only way to catch them was with traps. And even when they are caught, they put a hell of a fight. If there's one thing I fear, it's the thief who can hide in an open plain.”

“Ooh, our hunters wish they could be that stealthy,” Fiona said with some respect for the plains bandits.

“Well, hopefully we won't meet any of them,” said Thalon.

The monk gave a grunt of agreement before he asked, “By the way, Thalon, what's our plan? Where are we going?”

Thalon scratched his head as he tried to remember the goddess’s words. “Well, we'll just follow the goddess’s direction. What was it again?”

Fiona reached for the monk’s satchel and took out his notebook.

“Here.”

“Hey, I didn't give you permission to touch that!” The monk looked back to the fernian as she stuck her tongue out at him.

“Ah, here we go,” Thalon wizard said as he leafed through the notebook and found the inscribed words from Lady Flora.

“Go west, beyond the domain of the Eri and into the Land of the Legions. Past the Ley River and deep into the Craddle Valley. Nestled between two rivers, you will find the ruins of our greatest shame. The ruins of Hopefield . . . hmm.”

“We're not in the Eri anymore,” Fiona said plainly as the monk rolled his eyes at her.

“No joking?” the monk quipped to the fernian. “We're in the Land of Legions, but I don't know where the Ley River is.”

The wizard scratched his head as he looked to the map the monk had scribbled in the back cover of his notebook. “Any of those names mean anything to you Eren?”

The jeru searched through his memory and as he felt the pulsating of his central neural web he responded. “I think I know where the Ley River is. We camped there once. It’s further west from here, but I have no idea where Craddle Valley or Hopefield is.”

“How are we gonna find a valley in these plains,” the fernian asked as she leaned towards the wizard to look at the map.

“Ain't that the mystery. Guess we'll keep going west and hope we can find it. Really wish we had a guide to help us,” the wizard mused as he closed the notebook and placed it in the monk’s satchel again.

“Dinner's ready!” the monk said as he began to pour the stew into various bowls and gave it to his companions.

“Looks delicious Griff,” Thalon admitted with a happy glance at the pink broth.

“Smells good too, book peddler.”

The monk sat next to the jeru and as they all begin to sip and drink the stew, the monk turned to their guardian and asked, “So? What do you think Eren?”

“Tasty,” the jeru said with a fulfilling smile. “It's moments like this that make me happy that I left the Free Mountains.”

“That seems harsh. I heard there's a lot of good things about the Free Mountains,” the monk mused back as he smiled at the compliment.

“Yes. but none of them are the food,” he quipped back as the party properly dug into the soup. The scent and smoke from the hot stew climbed from the campfire and filled the night air and open starry sky above.

The plains remained silent as the scent of the stew floated to the heavens, blessed by the silver light of the moon and stars that reflected on the tiled stone and grassy moss mix of the floor.

The trio peacefully continued to dig into their food. Out from the darkness, there was something.

The guardian stopped. From the corner of his eye membranes, for just a split second, he thought he saw something. The glint of some long iron rod perhaps?

“What's wrong Eren?” The wizard asked as he placed his bowl down and looked to the alert jeru.

His eyes glanced through the ruins of the old hall. Then, there it was again. Farther away behind the fallen walls, the glint of iron for just a second. He focused his audible membrane and ignored the noise from his companions, trying to look for the source of the iron. It was no use.

His central neural web screamed at him. “There!” His eyes registered for another second the iron rod, getting closer now somewhere inside the hall itself.

He lowered his left hand and reached for his folding blade on its sheath as he closely tried to look for the iron.

“Over there! “His web called as he saw it behind the pillar. “No, there!” The shadow and the iron quickly moved under the cover of the rocks.

“Closer!” The Iron moved fast, quickly vaulting over and disappearing between the fallen stone boulders. The Iron in the jeru's eyes was the only proof that something was indeed there.

“Closer!” His whole body screamed at him as the shapeless figure got ever closer.

“Now!” A sharp clang echoed throughout the entire plain as metal met against metal.

To the shock of the three humans, a figure had seemingly emerged from nowhere, wielding a metal dagger inches away from the wizard's neck. The only thing saving Thalon from certain death was the quick reflexes from their guardian. Eren's folding blade held back the waved dagger.

The party was s motionless as they stared at the sudden attacker. The tension was broken when a low hiss tore through the night. Then, as quickly as it arrived, the figure disappeared into the darkness.

“Wha—”

“Quiet! It's here,” the guardian said to the fernian as he scoured the ruins looking for a hint of iron.

“There!” His system screamed at him as he ran to block an attack from reaching the monk. Griff didn't even realize the figure was behind him.

“Duck!” the mushroom said with a thick clicking accent. He tripped the monk and kicked him away from his attacker. “Leave them alone!” He screamed, bringing his blade forwards to strike at the figure.

The echoes of metal clashing in the hall reverberated through the silent plain as the attacker brought the dagger forward to defend itself.

“No escape!” the old mercenary proclaimed while he kept the pressure on the attacker and continued to pummel with his one-handed blade.

The figure struggled and tried to disengage. No matter what, the jeru kept his pressure and continued to strike and hack at the figure until eventually, the strikes began to evade the metal. It hit the fabric and clothes that obscured the figure and then the flesh itself.

The figure’s hood tore and as her face was revealed the jeru made a fatal mistake. He hesitated when he saw what he was up against.

“A cind,” the wizard said as they looked at the snake kin in front of them. Her short black hair like head quills swayed from where her hood used to be, and blood gushed from wounds in her snake-like body, as the various cuts accompanied the tears in her dark red tunic.

When the cind's face was revealed, the jeru hesitated for half a second. But the cind rogue did not. She took her opening and quickly pushed past the jeru's defense and lunged at the mushroom as she bit into his shoulder.

“Schists!” He echoed in pain as the snake kin bit into him.

“Eren!”

“Oh, gods!”

“Not the fungus!” The trio called as her teeth sunk into his flesh.

Their guardian tried his best to push back against the snake. It seemed useless until something deep in his conscious spoke to him.

However, it was not the word of power. It was something much more primal. A simple, ancient survival instinct took over his body and he screamed at the snake. “No you don't!”

The mushroom brought his free arm upwards and as he firmly grabbed the snake’s scales and her stomach, he let his millennial survival instincts take over. Then. the most basic of his body’s functions began to work.

His central neural web took control and the cind felt as something was wrong. It seemed like minuscule knives were prodding and piercing her gut. Her stomach began to boil and she screamed as it cramped up in pain at the invasive intruders in her body. She became weaker and weaker. Her strength and vitality drained away from her body until she lost her hold and fell to the floor.

As the cind attacker fell, the party saw a spongy string connecting her stomach to the jeru's free hand. Eren quickly broke it off as he too fell to the floor, holding to his shoulder.

“Eren!” The party quickly moved and the fernian inspected their guardian's wounds. Thalon knelt beside their unconscious attacker and the string-like remains.

“What was that?”

“That's how we feed on living things. Of course I wasn't trying to eat her, just wanted to weaken her.”

“What? No, I mean who is that?” the wizard asked.

“That I would say is a craddle rogue,” the guardian said as the fernian spread various ointments on her friend.

“Is she dead?” the monk asked, approaching the unconscious cind with some rope.

“No, she isn't. You should probably tie her,” the jeru said as the fernian finished her job and then immediately moved to the unconscious attacker and too began to patch her up while the monk and wizard restrained her.

“There. How's she doing Fi?” the wizard asked.

Fiona looked to the inflamed area, where the jeru had drained her vitality. “I—I don't know. I did my best but I don't know what this is. Eren?”

“Yes?” The jeru stood up and limped towards the party before finally sitting on a rock next to the monk.

“Will she be alright?” Fiona asked in a shaky voice, not knowing how treat such a strange attack.

The mushroom leaned forwards and spoke with a warm and reassuring inflection. “She'll be fine. The spores should disintegrate in a bit then she'll be back to her senses.”

“Hmm, alright. If you say so,” The fernian answered and stepped back to join her companions. She felt concerned for the cind and upset at her own inability to treat anything and everything.

“A cind . . .” the wizard mused as he looked at her body with its sharp, keeled dark brown and red scales and tail. The only similarity to a human were her toned arms that had been de-armed by the monk.

As the party looked at her paralyzed eyes, they saw that her face was purely that of a cind, completely snake-like with yellow slit eyes. However, they noticed that her head quills were different. It was not purely dark as they initially thought but it was instead a very dark shade of red. She wore them short, spiky, and combed back.

“Compliments her scales,” the fernian said, pointing to her quills.

“That it does,” the wizard nodded in agreement. She did have a good sense of style.

“It's a Bush Viper cind, possibly from the Sharp Shoulders tribe,” the monk said as he noted the distinct shape and color of the scales as well as the style of dagger that their attacker carried.

“You mean she's from the Petty Counties?” the wizard asked, trying to remember the geography and makeup of the eastern realm and home of the cind kin.

“That's very unlikely, Master Griff. The Petty Counties are close to my birthplace in the Free Mountains and I can guarantee you this is a Human Heartlands native.

For example, look at her tunic.” The jeru expertly said as he pointed towards their attacker’s clothes. “This is human clothing through and through. No, there's no doubt she's from here.”

The party looked on and indeed the monk relented and nodded as the fernian raised her head and asked, “Why would she attack us though? We didn't do anything.”

“Miss Fiona, you have seen how life is in here. In these plains, the legions rule and not everyone can defend themselves against the rule of the legions like my village. Those whose homes have fallen but still resist the legions have no other choice but to become bandits, scavengers, survivors. Whatever you want to call them, their only way to live is to attack camps or travelers and take what they have so they can live another day.”

Sadness washed over the entire party as they heard the jeru. Even the light from the moon itself seemed to dim as they stared at the cind and her predicament. Before the silence of the land of legions could become too great to bear, Fiona broke through it as she cried, “Poor girl. She could have just asked for help.”

Stars illuminated the hall where the party and their attacker stood. The feeling of despair from the land of silence made its way back to the adventurers as they witnessed yet another victim to the cruelty of the world. Then, something wondrous happened.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

The wizard's eyes widened as a thought erupted into his head, an idea spurred on from the very depths of his soul. Whether it was from Parhon or from something else he didn't know, but it also didn't matter.

A wide grin of joy erupted from the wizard as he jumped up from his seat and began to celebrate and scream to the heavens. “Ha! Yes! That's it!”

The party looked in confusion at their leader. His celebration clashed with the oppression of the land of legions. Then finally, the monk put a stop to it. “Thalon, what's wrong with you?”

“Ha! Griff don't you see? We are saved!” the wizard said with a strange, overwhelming euphoria as the party continued to scratch their heads in confusion.

“Saved? What do you mean, Pointy Hat?”

“Fi! Don't you guys get it? We needed a guide and now we have one!” the wizard enthusiastically said as he pointed to the unconscious cind in the ground.

“Are you insane? She tried to kill us!” Griff protested.

Eren raised his hands to interrupt. “Now there, Master Griff, Thalon has a point. She's a native from here and, being a scavenger, she probably knows the plains like the back of her hand. If anyone can lead us anywhere, it's probably her.”

“I can't believe what I'm hearing. She tried to kill you, Eren! Fiona!” the monk called as the fernian turned her head to face him, only for the monk to immediately regret what he was about to say. “I can't believe I'm saying this but, Fiona, please tell them this is insane.”

The fernian thought for a few moments until she admitted, “I don't know. She probably only attacked us cause she didn't think we would help her. If we do help her, maybe she'll help us too.”

“Unbelievable,” the monk said in defeat.

“Fi, you think you can give her something to wake up?” asked Thalon.

“Sure. Should have what I need right here,” The fernian said as she began to scrounge through her kit. She took out the same dark violet vial that she had used on Tomin the legionary. “This should wake her up.” Fiona uncorked her vial and fed it to their unconscious attacker. Then the wizard got close to the cind and stared at her in uncomfortable proximity.

The liquid flowed down the cind's body. As if a fire awoke inside her, the snake slowly began to open her eyes.

“Huh . . . Ah!” the cind recoiled when she saw the wizard’s excited smile staring back at her. She tried to move but as she did she noticed that she was restrained by the ropes. She shouted, thrashing. “You pilgrim bastards! I'll say just once, let me go now and no one gets hurt!”

The jeru could not resist a mocking laugh. “With what? This?” He picked up the waved dagger and showed it to his attacker.

“Merc ass! Give me that back! It doesn't belong to you!” the cind said as a burning fiery hatred burned behind her slit eyes.

“Eren, give me that,” Thalon said as he looked to the jeru. The guardian grumbled to himself as he passed the dagger on to the wizard.

“You better know what you are doing,” the monk said with a concerned voice as he saw the wizard wielding the blade.

“I got it, don't worry Griff. Now, miss?” the wizard asked as he looked to the cind. The snake only answered with scornful silence.

“Miss?” The cind remained silent, always with her gaze firmly fixed on the dagger.

“Thalon,” the Fernian called as she passed him a bowl of Griff's stew. “Try this.”

“Good idea, Fi,” he said as he placed the dagger on his belt and brought the stew close to the scavenger.

“You hungry? We still have some stew left if you want.” The cind’s gaze broke for a few moments as the aroma of the stew, the same one that brought her there, flooded her entire being.

“I'm not hungry,” the snake lied through her fangs as the noise from her stomach betrayed her.

“Eh, doesn't sound like you aren't hungry. Here have some,” Thalon said as he brought the spoon close to the cind's mouth.

The warmth and aroma from the soup seemed to mesh and compete with the wizard's gentle smile and for just a few moments she betrayed herself and tasted the stew.

The stew’s glow ran through her body and set her ablaze with comfort. Perhaps it was indeed worthy to kill for.

She quickly recomposed herself and as she steeled herself, she said with a cocky attitude and tone, “Alright, I tasted it. How long till it kills me now?” A slight smile erupted from her.

“Ah, don't worry, Griff's cooking’s not that bad,” the wizard answered with an equally devious smile. The scavenger could not resist but let out a small chuckle as she heard him, a chuckle that was quickly corrected as she returned to her serious and threatening demeanor.

In the back, the monk could only grumble as he and the jeru witnessed with suspicion the efforts of the wizard.

“So, huh. Sorry for restraining you but we actually have a proposition for you,” Thalon said as he gave the bowl back to the Fernian. She refilled it and sat next to the cind with a hopeful smile.

“I tried to attack you and you are the ones apologizing? You are a weird bunch, aren't you?” the cind said.

“Well it's not nice, but we didn't know if you would attack us again,” the fernian said as she tried to give more of the soup to the cind.

She refused it as she said, “I would have. You might be weird, but at least you aren't stupid.” She gave a deep glare to the mushroom who bested her in combat. “Never fought a jeru before. Heard about you lot. Never really believed it either. So, a jeru mercenary, a Sigist, an Eri and you are?”

“A wizard,” Thalon proudly said as he adjusted his hat.

“A wizard? Never heard that before.”

“It's a new brand of heretic apparently,” the monk said as he looked at the wizard, wondering what his beliefs actually were now.

“It's a developing thing. Hard to explain,” the wizard said.

“Hmm mhh. What do you want then, wizard” Her eyes darted through the wizard and inspected his body and clothes, hoping to find his strengths, weaknesses and perhaps true meaning behind him.

“You see, we need help. We were hoping you could help us and lead us to a place called Hopefield.”

The scavenger’s eyes widened as she heard the name. Like a wildfire, her memories began to spread through her body until she closed her eyes to put them out. “Why would you want to go there? There's nothing there. Not anymore at least. If I were you I would leave the plains as soon as you can.”

“Please, you don't understand. It's really important.”

“If you want to die you should have let me do it!” the cind bellowed out as her voice rang through the hall and echoed through the silent plains. “There's nothing more important than staying alive in this world. If you actually value your life, you would turn back and leave this accursed place.”

“There is something more important,” the wizard said with a serious tone as he looked into the eyes of the survivalist. When the cind looked back, she was almost enthralled by his devotion and sureness. But what truly set her fire were the words that followed.

“I must find the origin of Parhon.”

Parhon, Parhon, Parhon. The words reverberated in her soul. They followed her spine head to tail and the rogue could feel her entire soul set aflame by it. The fire spread and burned within, deep from her heart to the very extremities of each of her keeled scales.

As it manifested itself, she felt overwhelmed. She became hotter and hotter until finally she couldn’t contain it anymore and the heat began to escape outwards. As the fire began to rage, she said, “What . . . what is that.” She felt the power of the word, and within her, she began to realize her limitless potential.

As the wizard saw her pleading eyes he recognized the fire burning in her. With a warm tone and welcoming smile, he said, “You hear it too, don’t you?”

“It’s so overwhelming,” She said as the inner flame clashed against the cind's natural body heat and she began to struggle.

“I know. We all hear it. That's why we need to find the source of it. Please, it's in Hopefield. We need to get there,” the wizard pleaded as the cind continued to squirm and turn at the conflict with the word of power.

“No . . . no,” she said as she closed her eyes and tried to put down the fire that was growing within her soul and body.

“We have no one else. We can change the world for the better if we can get there,” he said, oblivious to the changes in the cind's body.

“Huh, Pointy Hat?” the fernian called from her side.

“You . . . mustn't . . . go there.” The fire raged and began to spread through her spine and body.

“We can pay. We can give you anything if you'll help us.”

“No . . . No . . .” The fire began to emerge from her scales.

“Please, we'll do anything.”

“No!” The fire finally fully emerged from her body and began to burn through her restraints. To the shock of the party, the cind became engulfed in a great aura of fire, setting her free.

She wasted no time. Almost as soon as she became free the jeru quickly raised up from his stone. She leaped and jumped outside of the great hall, quickly vanishing into the night. The fire quickly died down too as she felt the passing wind and the great vastness of freedom. To the humans, she was as well as gone. To the jeru, since she held no iron anymore, she was invisible.

As the survivalist returned to the darkness of the night, the party was left alone again under the light of the moon and the silence of the plains. The monk turned to face the wizard and said with scorn in his voice. “Nice going, Thalon. Now what we do.”

“Eren, Fi, Griff. Pack up everything. We are gonna follow her.”

Under the light of the moon and stars, the cind snaked her way through the silent plain. The inner fire continued to rage within her. She brushed it aside, trying to drown it out. As her mind raced back to the past, her slithering became sloppy and echoed in the vast empty plains.

“Cila.” A voice called to her from the very depths of her soul.

“No. Go away.”

“Cila.”

“No!” she called as her inner fire blinded her and the shape of the plain itself began to change.

“Cila.” The motherly voice continued as the fire in her eyes turned the dark empty plain into a bright sunset and the plain gave way to a depression, a slight indentation downwards in the great forest. A rare valley, perhaps more crater than valley, pierced through the vast and overwhelming dark forest.

“Cila, where are you honey?” A distinctive cind female voice called out, as the valley suddenly became littered with various stone ruins and the vibrant life of recent wooden dwellings and the kin who inhabited them.

Cila looked down and saw her body had reverted to a younger skin. She tried to fight her memories, tried to steer away from the pain of the fire, but the flame pushed her on and she lost control, as the young cind child leaped off from behind the stone pillar right into the arms of her mother.

“Sssss, got you!” the young snake girl said as she firmly hugged her mother.

“Oh no, caught by a Watcher assassin. Tell my daughter to avenge me!” the middle-aged yellow scaled Bush Viper cind said as she playfully fell to the ground and hugged her child in her arms.

“Hehe, I'm not a Watcher mom.”

“Can't talk. I'm dead.”

“No you're not.”

“I am not?” The motherly cind opened her eyes and looked at her daughter. “Then maybe you should have gone for my neck!” she proclaimed as she immediately grabbed her daughter and began to blow raspberries on her neck.

The young Cila tried her best to contain her laughter, and as she grabbed on to her mother she said as she kept crying and laughing. “Stop, stop I yield!”

The mother stopped and the warm setting sun blessed them from above. “You are growing up so fast Cila, give it a few years I'll be the one yielding.”

Cila began to blush. “When I'm big, mom, I wanna be a Trail Ranger.”

“A Trail Ranger?” she asked as she lent her hand to her daughter and the two began to slither back to the center of the settlement.

“Yea. I want to travel place to place and help everyone!” Cila said as she puffed her chest and pretended to be a great warrior.

“Well, Trail Rangers need to train a lot to be strong and help settlements with their problems.”

“I can do that! I train a lot. I'll be strong and have a big sword and help everyone fight against monsters and bandits!” Cila’s eyes widened as she imagined an older version of herself wielding a great two-handed flamberge sword.

“A sword? Are you sure about that? Why not a spear instead?” the mom questioned as she waved to the other cind in the settlement who greeted her.

“A spear? Why a spear?”

“Well, spears are cool. You can do a lot with them,” The mother tried to argue, hoping her daughter would be swayed to a much easier weapon than a sword.

“I don't know. Swords are cool mom, spears are . . . spears.”

“You think that now, honey. One day you'll see how great they are,” the mom said in a loving voice.

Cila’s response was interrupted by an awful sound.

The bronze bell of the settlement began to ring. Atop the wooden palisade, the cind guards yelled down to the settlement.

“The Pythons are coming! Everyone to arms!” Their cries sent chills through the tribe. Hurriedly, they all began to grab weapons and set themselves in their defensive lines in the palisades and around the village.

“Honey, quickly go hide in the house!” Cila’s mother said as she passed her own dagger of waved iron. “If someone tries to hurt you, you know what to do.”

“Mom, wait! I can help!” Cila cried as she tried to grab her mother.

“No, you can't Cila. Not yet. Please hide! I'll be back, I promise you.” She hugged her daughter, and after she kissed her, she said, “I love you, honey.”

Then her mother disappeared to the crowd and growing militia desperately trying to defend their home.

The fires grew brighter and the memory burned inside her. The flames engulfed the entire village as each of Cila's Bush Viper tribesmen fell to the overwhelming strength and numbers of the cind Pythons.

Under the cover from her bed, she saw it all. Amidst tears and fear, she saw the guards fall first, shot down by the power of the crossbow.

The gates fell next. The deafening crash haunted her being as she saw the pythons of the Long Tail tribe pouring into her home and her friends and neighbors falling one after the other, to ax, hammer, bow, and sword.

“Stop!” a voice cried out as it landed in the center of the square, a rare ember of hope dared to fight against the encroaching inferno.

The leader of the tribe, the Sharp Shoulders’ shaman, asserted his authority and respect. Even the pythons stopped as they saw the holy snake wielding the sacred gift of fire breathing.

“What is the meaning of this? Why have you come here and killed my kin?” he cried out as his tribe's survivors gathered behind him.

A strong cind stepped forward, clad in dark scales and bronze armor. He spoke with a booming voice as he took out the dreaded decree inscribed in an iron plaque. “Lord Ignis, god of fire and destruction, has given us the right of conquest over your tribe.”

“No, that can't be. That's ridiculous. Under what charges?” the Shaman quelled as he looked to the holy script emboldened in iron.

“Lord Ignis was not pleased with your absence from the blood games last equinox. He has labeled you as separatist traitors and heretics and given right of conquest over you,” the leader of the warring party said.

A short cind next to him spoke. “Should be happy it us and not the Knife Butchers who got here first.”

“No. No,” the shaman said as the weight of the situation fully hit him. “Please. I wrote to Lord Ignis. We didn't have the warriors for the blood games quota. We needed everyone here to get enough food before the Whitewind season”

“Lord Ignis does not listen to excuses. Warriors!” The cind warrior spoke to his warrior party as he raised his iron sword. “Bind them all . . . and de-fang them.”

The words echoed loudly in the minds of every Sharp Shoulder cind.

As the worst fate that could befall to a cind became a possibility, a few desperate warriors charged to their doom and tried to take as many of the pythons as they could, preferring death rather than a lifetime as being only half cind.

It was fruitless, however. Soon enough the village surrendered. To the horror of the young Cila, fires spread and every surviving member from her village was put in chains and had their fangs forcefully removed from their mouths. It was a mark that their god had forsaken them and all laws and traditional customs no longer applied to them. They were no longer cind and barely even considered kin anymore.

Her crying betrayed her and a python caught her. “Look what we got here, Ceraph.”

“Aw, how cute. She have fangs yet?” a greatsword-wielding warrior asked as his companion tried to pry open Cila's mouth only to be bit.

“Ow, you little bastard!”

“Cid . . . you have to do it like this!” The warrior laughed before he grabbed the young girl and firmly opened her mouth and inspected it for any hint of teeth.

“Hmmm. It's your lucky day girl, no fangs yet. Guess you get to keep them. Put her with the others.” His companion put her chains and forced her into a cage on the back of a cind-pulled cart.

“No! No! No!” Cila cried. Her young voice meshed with her adult one, breaking through the silent plains.

The fires burned bright. For a moment, as she felt herself being put into the cage of slavery, it felt too real.

The fires died for just a moment and the past and present seemed to mesh together as the fiery inferno in the Petty Counties gave way to the dark silence of the human plains. In both, she saw as an iron cage covered her entire being. From the darkness in the cage in the land of legions, she heard two faint human voices accompanied by the galloping of horses.

“What a catch.”

“Oh, she's a fighter for sure. The Patroli is gonna pay a pretty penny for this one.”

She tried to move, tried to fight against the chains placed on her. But the fires were too strong and they took over her reality again as she fell back into her memory.

Under the light of the approaching night, the inferno blazed through the forest of the Petty Counties. But in that destructive light, she still found hope again.

“Cila?” a voice cried from the back of the cart.

The girl looked back and immediately slithered to her. The battered and wounded cind barely resembled her mother anymore, but her love was impossible to mistake. She hugged her mother. The chains held both of them and as her crying echoed in the night, her mother pulled her close and said with a loving reassurance, “Told you I would be back.”

The day was dark and clouded. In the distance, the dense forests and hills of the Petty Counties vanished on the horizon as the young cind girl was rudely awakened by the splashing river water dividing the cind homelands from the great etla steppe.

In the air, flying Blugulls circled and followed the forlorn cart of survivors, their squawks and cries awaking the cinds to their living nightmare.

Cila's mother struggled to stay awake. When she looked outside she saw their cind brethren trading with a passing etla merchant band for fine silks and clothes. In exchange, they gave them the reigns of the cart and their captives.

As the etla merchants began to attach the cart to their wagons and caravans, the pythons returned to their side of the river, all without even saying a word or even gazing again at their supposed brethren.

The pythons vanished in the natural growth and the surviving cind cried with despair as they realized what awaited them. The survivors wept and fell limp in the carts. Their spirits were utterly crushed and almost all fell into despair.

They had no fangs, they had no God. They had no flame, they had no hope. The cind merely sat back, waiting for death. At least complete and utter oblivion was better than the life that awaited them.

However, even in that darkest of abysses, an ember still flickered and sputtered and dared to resist the overwhelming darkness.

The motherly cind moved her broken arm to pull her daughter close to her. Her inner fire still burned within her, despite her own broken body.

Her young daughter stayed close. She cried and despaired as she was inundated by the darkness around her. But as she felt the fleeting warmth of her mother, she saw that the smallest of embers could be blinding in the darkest of abysses.

The mother turned in the chains and as she used her broken body to cover her child from the elements. She told her in a gentle and hopeful tone, “Cila. I'm not gonna tell you to not cry. You can . . . and should.” She deliberated on her words, partly out of her pain and partly to prepare her daughter. “But you have to promise me one thing, Cila.”

The young Cila looked up, tears streaming down from her eyes as she hugged back the husk that used to be her mother.

“Promise me you'll live. That you'll keep fighting and surviving.”

Cila looked up to her mother. She tried to open her mouth, tried to answer and comfort her mother, but the darkness was overwhelming. The only sounds that came from her were her crying.

Her mother continued to hug her and she continued with her reassuring voice. “Cila. If you keep on living, good things will happen eventually.” A faint smile emerged as she said her words of wisdom to her daughter. “Fight, Cila. Fight and live. I know, someday, you'll be a Trail Ranger . . . and you'll help everyone.”

As her speech became slurred and, Cila gathered her strength and let out an equally faint call amid her crying. “Mom.”

The fire began to die down. Before it could be extinguished forever, the mother looked deep into the eyes of her daughter and as she passed on her flame to Cila, she said, “Survive . . . at any cost. I love you, Cila.”

Her eyes became vacant and her body fell limp. Her inner fire disappeared and her soul was obliterated, rejected by her god and driven to oblivion, to the void. But the fire was not extinguished. Alone, in the depths and darkness of the abyss of despair, the young cind girl sobbed and cried.

The darkness was overwhelming but she resisted. Her fire was rekindled as the words from her mother permeated her entire being. The ember, small as it was, kept the girl’s spirit alive.

Down in the abyss, in the carts of despair, among the corpses and the undead cind who abandoned all hope, a single survivor hung on to life, to hope, driven to live thanks to that small ember burning precariously inside her heart.

The air was cold and the future bleak, but the girl steeled her heart and defended the ever so fragile and peaceful words within her. The trek through the steppe was long and hazardous. Every day, the wagons became emptier and lighter as the corpses of the fallen cind were left to rot in the open air as per tradition of the etla bird kin.

Either because of their wounds or because they had lost the will to fight, only a handful of the Sharp Shoulders tribe remained.

Throughout the trip though, the girl began to prepare herself. Her tears dried and each day the fire within her began to burn brighter and brighter. She learned to use her sadness, learned to use the darkness around her. She ceased her crying as she maneuvered through her negative emotions and turned her sadness into anger. The dark of the abyss no longer overwhelmed her. Instead, she burned bright in it, her blinding anger a growing inferno of light that overtook the oppressive world she had been forced into.

Steppe turned to hills, hills turned to mountains, mountains became the hill ring and past it came the urban valleys and cities; the prosperous garrisons and civilization of the Empire of Len. With each stop, the wagon became emptier and emptier as the few surviving cind were sold off to unknown fates at each settlement. When they reached Gaveri, that accursed garrison city by the coast of the Lenian Lake, she was the last one in the cart.

It had been months and her fire now burned as bright as the sun itself. Within her body, she could feel the first stirrings of her fangs piercing her gums. It took five etla to properly hold her. When they placed her to be sold, an old minar in an ancient Taurac uniform noticed her anger and said to the merchant.

“Feisty one. How much?”

“Twenty Aurelians.” The girl was furious. Her rage was barely bound by the chains holding her in place as she heard the paltry sum for her life.

“I'll take her. She'll do well.” The girl looked at the ancient goat staring at her, but before she could be let go and unleash her rage on the world, the world itself became darker, as she felt something hard hitting her on the back of her head. She fell unconscious as she felt the chains being loosened, her freedom eluding her once more.

The parhon blurred her vision as once again the past meshed with the present. Both the girl and woman woke up. In the middle of the night, they noticed where they were: inside a prison of bricks and metal bars. From the top above the ceiling, one could hear cheers, struggling, and the music of blades clashing against one another.

The past began to overtake the present yet again and the girl saw the old minar, dressed in the old Taurac uniform. She heard as the old goat spoke. “You belong to me now. You have no name; you haven't earned one yet.”

To the girl’s surprise, he brought a key to her cage and opened it as he said, “Fight me.”

Almost without hesitation the girl lunged to strangle the goat with her body, only for the minar to counter her. He lowered his head and bashed it against the girl’s skull. She went flying into the wall.

“Pathetic,” the old goat said as he adjusted his posture. “Underwhelming, ungraceful, and completely predictable. Still, I see you have spirit.” The girl listened as her head spun from the impact.

“We'll start your training tomorrow. We'll make a gladiator of you yet,” the goat said as he approached her and before he gave her one last punch that knocked the girl out beyond the depths and darkness of her personal abyss.

Days blended together in that underground furnace of survival. With time, the girl came to forget herself. She forgot her dreams and almost even forgot her name.

Her love and hopes became but a distant memory as days turned to months and months to years. The girl was trained with all weapons and beaten to near death on a near-daily basis. But all throughout it, her fire never stopped shining. It still shone deep in her heart where her mother's words resounded within her. “Survive, at any cost.”

As she matured, something else began to show itself. Her fangs began to sprout, the last surviving pair of the butchered Sharp Shoulders.

Even the old goat was not blind to her development, and below the arena, where her entire world lay, the goat gave her a gift. Covered in old fabric tatters of her tribe's clothes, he gave her the knife her mother had given her to protect herself. He had kept it clean and polished as he eagerly awaited the moment the girl became a woman. She stared, speechless, at her tribal knife and a handful of tears pierced through her rough exterior..

The old goat looked sternly upon her as she held the knife. “Go earn your name,” he said.

For the first time in years, the girl left the underground. As the light of the sun finally blessed her again she saw thousands of kin sitting on stands, eagerly cheering as she emerged from the underground of the arena.

Equipped with a rusty old armor set and armed with nothing but her tribe's dagger, the girl was overwhelmed by the world she rediscovered. She steeled herself and focused as she saw her opponent.

A stone-slither at the opposite edge of the arena. A giant worm struggled and bashed against the binds that held him in place.

His mouth was lined with thousands of serrated teeth, shining in the sun and reflecting its light like metal. It was eager, restless to leave and burrow through the mountains and caverns as it was his nature to do.

The horns sounded and the metal chains cracked as the monster was let loose. He slithered and slid across the arena, effortlessly burrowing the floor as he quickly approached his opponent.

The girl was shocked, overwhelmed at the towering beast quickly gaining and moving towards her. She blankly looked at the creature, waiting for her death. her mind empty of thoughts, desires, or dreams.

But a voice spoke to her, spurred on by her inner fire and by the dagger she held in her hand. The almost-forgotten voice of her mother cheered her on. ”Live . . . survive at any cost!”

The girl focused herself and sprang into action.

Amidst the cheers of the audience, she dodged and jumped to the side as the great worm smashed headfirst into the wall of the arena.

The worm recomposed itself. As it looked in the general direction of the cind, her expression had changed. Determination coursed through her entire being as she brought her dagger forward and waited for the worm’s next move.

The stone slither charged again and to its shock—and delight of the audience – the girl leaped over him and slashed the creature’s back, leaving a continuous large cut from her iron dagger on the worm.

Cheers continued to rain upon her as the creature now growled his pain to the heavens. Its movements became erratic and violent as it lifted its body and tried to smash the source of its pain.

She dashed, moving with speed from side to side as she evaded the body slams from the giant worm. To the audience, she did not even look like a cind anymore. Rather, an extremely fast and dangerous red blur; a mist ready to slash and cut at any opening. That she did as she grabbed onto the creature’s head and profusely stabbed its side.

The creature screamed again and tried to bash his head against the floor to get rid of the attacker. The girl took her chance and as she circled and maneuvered her way around the creature’s head, she stabbed him at various points. Wherever she did, the creature followed and tried to smash her where she had struck him.

Blood splashed on the arena, partly from the stab wounds but most of it from the creature’s attempts at saving itself.

The red mist circled and expertly moved around the creature’s head. Each stab was followed by a smash and with each bash, the crowds cheered for the gladiator’s speed and cunning.

The movements became slower and the worm became weaker until it could not resist anymore. Due to the bashing or the blood loss, with one last stab and bash, the great stone slither fell to the bloodied floor of the arena.

With that last earth-shattering thump, the girl descended. As the crowds looked to her in silence, she raised her hand holding the dagger.

The crowds showered her with their cheers, clapping and through the entire arena. They raised her name to the sky. “Red Mist! Red Mist! Red Mist! Red Mist!”

That day, as she basked in the glory of her survival, she earned her name. No longer Cila of the Sharp Shoulders, but now the Red Mist.

The old goat was proud. His work had paid off and the Red Mist continued her survival. Opponent after opponent, be they beast, monsters or kin, all fell to the Red Mist's speed and persistence.

Months passed and became years. The woman had become a rising star. Her fame in the Empire was renowned and there was no citizen, slave, noble, or child in the Empire who did not know the Red Mist.

The old goat had become wealthy, but also even older. As he neared the end of his life, rather than grant her freedom, he took his winnings and sold the star of the arena to a bracari of the Land of Legions.

The woman was furious. She tried, fruitlessly, to break away the chains that bound her in place, but it was useless. No matter how strong she became, no matter how resilient she was, no matter how famous she was, she was powerless to change the order of the world. As she was yet again placed into a cart and taken away from her home again, she felt the cold stream and the call of the blue gulls and realized she was still nothing more than a slave.

The land of legions was silent. For two decades now, the civil war raged on. The Red Mist, the rising star of the Empires’ southern garrison city was brought to the great legionary Fort-City of Lyo.

There, under the prying eyes of the thousands of legionaries, servants, and slaves they captured in the human cradle, the Red Mist performed for them, fighting any beast the legions could find and crushing any legionary who thought themselves tough enough to overpower the gladiator.

The Red Mist accompanied the bracari, serving as his favorite entertainment. And so the Cind began to know the accursed silent lands. From camp to camp, she saw pillaging, suffering, and war.

She saw the legions commit the same horrors she had first known as a girl. Every day her fire grew with rage and hatred for her captors and their actions. Inside the arena, she let out her rage against any legionary that was foolish enough to face her. The Red Mist began to be known as the Red Death, for no legionary that faced her survived his encounter with her anymore.

One dark day, the legion camped by some old ruins, the wreckage of a place once known as Hopefield, an unassuming location to the bracari. To the Red Death though, it was a blessing. In the dark of the night, a scream echoed from the bracari's tent. As the legionaries and their superiors gathered, they saw their leader’s body, mangled beyond belief. The assailant was unknown, the motive unknown.

The superiors were able to maintain the order, but as they stuck around Hopefield, more strange events began to happen.

It followed the hierarchy of the legion. Next, the leganis were found dead. Some with their spines broken without a hint of outwards force, some with chunks of their body completely removed. Others simply lay flat and shapeless on the ground, all of their bones missing.

Then it was the commandris, who vanished off the face of Vaelia as if simply erased from existence. In fact, no one in the legion could even remember what their commandri’s name was, what they looked like, or what they had done.

Chaos and fear began to assail the legion as talks of rioting and leaving the camp became louder. The centuris tried to maintain order and discover the origin of the strange events, but it was useless. The legionaries rioted and fought one another. In the ensuing riot, the servants freed the slaves. While some remained behind to protect their families, many simply ran off and disappeared into the Silent Plain.

In the dark of night, the Red Death finally tasted freedom again, harsh as it was. She fled under the cover of the night and began her life as a scavenger in the Land of Legions. The fire burned deep within her, but even as she finally tasted freedom, it tasted bitter. Even if she was free, she was still at the mercy of the world, still under the chain that bound her to a life she had not chosen.

She buried such thoughts, embraced her inner fire, and survived, for the words of her mother continued to ring true in her. Surely, as long as she stayed alive, good things were bound to happen. Or at least she hoped. With the cover of the night and the blessing of the moon, the Red Death stalked and lived, surviving at any cost.

The fires died down as memories gave way to the cruel present. The only thing she could remember was that pointy-hatted stranger, his company, and her flight. What had happened to her until now was a mystery, clouded by the images of her past that the unknown word of power had brought forth.

She looked around trying to discern where she was. She felt as her soul sank back into the abyss as she looked to her arms, yet again bounded in chains of iron and surrounded by a cage in a familiar holding cell.

“Let me out!” she screamed, banging at the metal bars. From outside, a lone human legionary and his Patroli superior emerged.

“Ah, finally awake huh? Just in time too.”

“I can't believe it, Sir. The Red Death herself. What do you think happened to Bracari Gustaf for her to be wandering alone in the plain?” The legionary spoke with an excited tone as he looked at the famed Imperial gladiator.

“Probably got himself attacked. Gustaf was never the smartest. In any, case it doesn't matter.” He turned to face the captured slave. “I hope you're ready, girl. This legion hasn't had proper entertainment in a long time.”

The fire burned fiercely in her eyes as she hissed. “The moment you take me out of here, I'm killing all of you.”

The Patroli smiled. “Ha, good. That's what we want to see. Evrat, bring the gladiator upstairs. The show’s about to begin.”

“Yes, sir.”

The Red Death's mind raced with ideas of what to do, how to escape, how to fight against an entire bracaria. It was useless. No matter how bright her fire was, she could never possibly defeat them all. Perhaps her mother was wrong. No matter how long she survived, things stayed the same. Nothing ever seemed to get better.

She tried to reach for her dagger, only to remember that the wizard still had it. For the first time since she was a child, she felt the cage surrounding her crush her soul.

The fire began to die down. In her heart, she accepted her fate. Rather than fight it, she accepted that she had died long ago, just like all the other Cind of the Sharp Shoulders who had their fangs and lives taken away in the fiery inferno.

The doors to the hastily built arena in the fort city were opened. The entire legion, servants, and the fort’s slaves had come to see the famous Red Death in action.

The light of the moon illuminated the arena, together with the various torches that were strewn through the wall and the audience stands. Standing high atop everyone, in his own personal shoddily built box, the bracari of this legion, a rather fat looking minar, oversaw the entire arena. The Patroli took to the podium.

“Legionaries and auxiliaries!” he said as below him the legionary quickly opened the cage and left the arena himself. “And of course, honorable Bracari Gondi.” The fat goat atop his box saluted the Patroli back. “Today we have a special event for you all. A blessing from the gods no doubt. The famous Red Death herself. Star of the southern Imperial garrisons and slayer of hundreds of legionaries in our home plains. My dear friends, sisters, and brothers, I ask you, who among you dares to try and defeat the undefeated Red Death?”

The crowd was silent as they all eagerly awaited to see who would be stupid enough to try and face off against the famed legionary killer.

“Anyone? Think of the glory when you face off and defeat one as strong as this.”

“I will.” A lone voice spoke from the crowd, and all eyes looked to the source of it.

To the shock of the downtrodden cind in the arena floor, the voice came from one she had thought lost.

Standing proudly from the crowd, the yellow pointed hatted stranger rose up and proudly proclaimed again. “I shall face her!”

“Ah, yes. It seems we have a challenger, the traveler in the yellow pilgrim hat. Please come down.” The wizard descended the bleachers and jumped down into the arena. The cind stared at him in confusion.

“Tell us, stranger. Which weapon will you use?” the Patroli asked as a legionary carrying all manner of weaponry waited to toss the stranger his weapon.

The wizard adjusted his hat. “I don't need any weapons.” A smug smile permeated the wizard as the crowd began to whisper.

“Most unorthodox. It seems our contestant thinks he can defeat the champion with nothing but his bare fists. Well then, Red Death! What will you pick?”

The cind was speechless as she tried to process the situation “I – huh?”

“I believe she'll have this.” The wizard tossed to her something bound in a black piece of cloth.

As the gladiator unveiled it, she was shocked to see her treasure returned. Without a single hint of damage, her dagger was back in her hands. She looked to the wizard with a stunned expression and she felt as the knife kindled her soul yet again. She felt her hope returning. But through it all, she did not understand why, and as she looked to the wizard with a rare pleading expression, she only asked, ”Why?”

The wizard took a fighting stance and as he fixed his hat. He only smiled at her.

“Ready? Go!” The Patroli said as hit his bell, signaling the start of the fight.

She held the dagger in her hands. As she heard the noise of the bell being struck, something moved within the survivalist’s body.

She tried to fight it but it was no use. Her instincts took over as she began to slither across the arena field and prepared to strike at her opponent.

“No!” Her soul tried to warn to the rest of her battle-hardened body. But something was wrong. The wizard made no moves. He remained in place, motionless as the gladiator approached and prepared to strike him.

The crowds cheered and prepared to see the foolish traveler cut down. Beyond their roar, three cries echoed his name.

“Thalon!

“Pointy Hat!

“Master!”

The wizard’s eyes moved. He looked not at the knife coming in his direction but to the eyes of the cind and the fire behind them. It felt as if time itself slowed down as the dagger prepared to strike at the wizard's heart. The fighter felt as a fire ignited her spine as she heard the word leaving the wizard's mouth.

“Parhon.”

To the shock of the audience, the legionaries, the bracari, and even the Red Death herself, the dagger passed right through his chest. The cind stared in awe as she saw that the wizard's chest had taken on the properties of fire. It had turned to a gaseous form and as she felt the hot flames from the wizard's soul, she quickly retracted her hand and stared on as the wizard let his inner flame control his being.

He brought his arms forward and as he stared at the flames emanating from his skin, he merely said, “Heh, well that's new.”

Her instincts vanished as both her and everyone in the arena stared silently at the miracle in front of them. She was overwhelmed by the fire. The flames did not evoke the same feeling of destruction in her as the first inferno she had seen. Instead, the flames were warm but not boiling. They were inviting and comforting as she stared at them.

The wizard slowly approached the cind. She brought her dagger up reflexively as she saw him approaching her, but something spoke within her. She did not know if it was the flames or the wizard’s demeanor, but her movements slowed. As the wizard came within arm’s reach, he grabbed her hands and said in a calm and comforting voice, “It's alright. You don't have to fight.” The cind was speechless as she heard the wizard’s words. She felt a warmth coming from him that she had not known since she was a child. As he touched her hands, she felt the flames pass onto her without causing any pain.

The flame was indeed warm and comforting. She held to the wizard's hands and as she looked back into his eyes, she saw the same flame she had felt so many times in her burning bright in him too.

She tried to speak, tried to say something, but nothing came out. Something still continued to hold her back.

The wizard brought his hand forward and as he touched her head, he closed his eyes and said, “You hear it too . . . Have for a long while. It lives in you.”

“I can't,” the cind said as memories of the past flooded her.

The wizard flinched as the pain from her inner fire reached him. “You can. Let it guide you.”

The cind closed her eyes as she felt the abyss closing down on her soul’s flame. “No . . .”

“Embrace it! Let it take hold,” the wizard said as he firmly grabbed onto the cind's hand.

“No. I'm a gladiator,” the cind said as images of her beating and formation and of the old goat flooded her mind.

“Look at me,” the wizard said, and he and the cind opened their eyes. As they looked to one another, as they felt the hot flames surrounding them and the pain of the past. The wizard asked her, “What's your name?”

“I'm . . .” The memories flooded back.

“I'm . . .” She saw the blood of the legionaries and drunks that tried to face her.

“I'm . . .” Saw the thousands of fights, spectators, beasts, and wasted life in the imperial garrison.

“I'm . . .” She saw her mother, her loving smile and warmth, her village and her hopes and dreams, and she loudly proclaimed to the skies, “I'm Cila!” The cry of her name pierced the heavens and echoed loudly in the plains as her cry flooded the arena. The audience saw as a great pillar of fire emerged from the trail ranger.

Her flames overtook the wizard's and, as he stood next to her, he saw the pillar begin to die down as they spread and covered the entire arena.

The fire now burned from her and as Cila smiled. The wizard saw that her darkness had been conquered.

He looked to the fire behind her eyes and saw they now burned with the same intensity as his.

“What do I do?” she asked. “I haven't felt like this in . . . forever.”

The wizard smiled as he placed his hand on her sharp shoulder. “Just say the word.”

She nodded and with a confident smile she raised her dagger to the sky and proclaimed, “Parhon.”

The flames of the arena began to rise and dance among themselves as they coalesced around the ranger's dagger, extending it. The iron dagger became covered with the flames and turned it to a fiery spear.

She looked down at what she had created and under her breath, she said, “I'm sorry it took so long, Mom.”

She lifted the spear into the sky and as the audience saw the strange display, she proclaimed, “Show's over! Everyone leave.”

In the audience, the servants and slaves covered themselves and crouched down as they saw the supernatural display from the former gladiator. But the legionaries and their superiors remained in place, albeit with wavering resolve. From atop the box, the fat goat said, “Pardon me? Who do you think you are, girl! Whatever parlor tricks you have, you really think you alone can take down this entire bracaria?”

“She's not alone,” the wizard said as he stood by the ranger's side.

“Ah! As if a peasant and a slave are enough to take down a fully trained legion. Men! Arrest them,” the bracari proclaimed. From behind him, a strange clicking noise emerged.

“I wouldn't be so sure of that,” the wizard said, adjusting his hat.

“Fiona!” he called, and suddenly the entire legion in the stands became bound by vines. The excited fernian jumped to the arena, only to be stopped by the vines holding her in place as well as the entire bracaria.

“Haha, I love this,” she said as she playfully balanced on the natural constraints.

“Eren!” the wizard called as the bracari felt the cold steel of the jeru's folding knife on his neck. The guardian proclaimed. “I wouldn't move if I were you! Last bracaria I held died in my arms.”

“And of course, Griff,” The wizard said as the last member took to the stand where the Patroli was bound and he spoke to the free servants and slaves.

“Auxiliaries of the Fort-City of Nelli! Fear not!” the monk said, assuming his diplomatic monk airs. “In the name of Siggi Towns, I, Monk-Sigist Griff Favonius, proclaim this fort as liberated from the tyranny of its bracaria and under the protection of the Sigist Order. Please remain calm and wait for further instructions.”

As Griff left the podium, the auxiliaries, captured peasants, slaves, servants, and all others who helped with the legion wondered if what was happening was even real. While some quickly left the arena in fear of more strange things happening, many cheered and thanked the gods for having liberated them.

In the arena, as Cila contemplated everything, she could barely believe what was happening. She even tried to prick herself with her dagger as it returned to its normal shape to even make sure it was not a wonderful dream. As she stared back at the wizard, she asked, “Why did you save me?”

The wizard smiled and said, “I didn't. You saved yourself. I just gave you the push you needed to do it.”

She laughed awkwardly, but still pried on. “But why did you do it though?”

“Well, we needed your help. But mostly, it was because it was the right thing to do.” The words echoed in her mind as she heard the explanation from the wizard and tears began to form in her eyes.

“I-I didn't think kin like you actually existed.”

The wizard smiled and as he grabbed her hand and began to walk with her. “Oh, they try to get rid of us and kill us alright, but . . . we're survivors.”

A hint of a blush colored the cind’s cheeks, the first one since her childhood. As she walked and held the wizard’s hand, for the first time in a long time, Cila felt happy. Under the blessing of the moon and stars, she prayed for her mother and silently thanked her for her wisdom and the fire to live that she had given her.

The fort’s wall cast a looming shadow over the liberated city. In the center square, the beating heart of the Fort-City of Nelli, the freed auxiliaries rounded up and bound legionaries and their officers. A few renounced their allegiance and swore to defend the newly liberated fort.

Further away, at the entrance of the square, the jeru ex-captain instructed the auxiliaries and some freed side-switching legionaries on how to set up a perimeter to defend the fort.

“And remember, hostages are more valuable than corpses. Always take as many as possible. We got enough blood as it is,” the guardian said with his distinct jeru clicking accent as the freedkin nodded in agreement.

Lastly, by the gates of the fort-city, the wizard, fernian, and monk began to resupply and prepare their belongings for the next hurdle of their quest.

Still, the wizard let out a sigh as he wondered if the guide would join at all. Then, to their surprise, they felt a cool shadow over them.

“Cila!”

“Snake-lady!”

“Hey.”

The wizard, fernian and monk said as they looked to the source of the shadow and saw the newly reborn Cila, dressed in a salvaged legionary breastplate repainted with her tribe's symbols. Her dagger was on her belt holster, a spear by her side and she carried a simple legionary’s backpack.

She looked over to the party and said with a rough smile, “That guide job . . . is it still available?”

The wizard broke into a smile as he raised his hand to welcome the ranger to their midst. “For someone as experienced as you? Of course.”

The cind took the wizard's hand and shook it, and as a slight blush began to emerge from her, the wizard smiled and said, “Welcome to the team.”

“You'll grow to hate it, I'm sure,” the monk said with a taunting smile.

The fernian barely held her excitement as she jumped to the ranger and began to hug her. “Yay! Another girl! Now I'm not the only lady in the group. We are gonna be best friends!”

“Huh?” the cind let out a scared grunt, unsure of what to do to such an unbridled display of affection. She gently patted the fernian back with her left hand. “Huh . . . y-yeah.”

“See what I told you?” the monk said with a smug smile before he corrected himself as he realized he had begun to mimic Thalon.

“I saw that,” The wizard grinned.

The fernian backed down after showering the cind in welcoming adjectives. As the group placed their packs behind them, their last member returned.

“Eren, everything ready?”

“Yes. I prepared the villagers, er, auxiliaries. They are going to see if they can convince the other legionaries to join them and defend the village. Told them to use the bracari as a hostage to keep the other legions away. The walls are strong here and they are used to the drilling, I think they will be fine,” the jeru guardian said as he too placed his old mercenary backpack behind him and looked to the cind.

“So, she joined us after all.”

“Yes, I did,” the cind said with a harsh tone as she eyed the jeru with suspicion.

“Well, good,” he tried to defuse the situation. “We can use an experienced tracker. I hope you don't resent me from our first meeting.”

The ranger changed her posture and took on a reassuring tone. “It's fine . . . as long as you are up for a rematch sometime.” She flashed him a devilish smile.

“Of course. It would be my pleasure, miss Cila.”

A tingle traveled through her entire body as she heard her name uttered again. A feeling of pride, hope, and happiness flooded her as she joined the party, and as she looked forward to the Silent Plains, for the first time, they did not feel so empty.

The wizard raised his hand and he loudly proclaimed to the sky. “Onwards, my friends!”

“For the world!”

“For the Kin!”

“For the truth!”

“For life!”

The guardian, fernian, monk and the ranger all ecstatically proclaimed as they left yet another settlement and prepared to continue their quest.