Ayodele led them through the bustling village. Surprisingly, they drew very little attention, despite Grant’s assumption that they were the first humans to visit for a long time, if ever. That is until he recalled the fact that Fyodor had said that the village was warded by someone using the magic of a Source, meaning that another human had been here at least at once in the past, and was presumably friendly and accepted enough to be entrusted with the protection of the whole village. Grant opened his mouth to ask Ayodele about this possibility, before Ki interrupted him, sensing his intent.

Do not. If they have forgotten about the wards, all the better, because their existence will raise uncomfortable questions that it is preferable your companions do not think of.

What do you mean? Grant asked.

The wards protecting this village were drawn by me. I did not recognise them at first, for I failed to realise that this was the Aziza’s world, but they are mine. One of the special considerations that the Aziza received, as our allies that we were condemning to imprisonment, was an increased level of protection against any Numen that may have recovered their abilities and broken through. The Aziza were quite the thorns in their sides, you see, and if any of my brethren discover their presence they would exact quite a brutal vengeance upon them. It was a difficult addition to the Vault’s construction, but they deserve it.

So does that mean that we’re all in trouble if we use any magic? Grant asked worriedly.

No, not at all. The wards are rather specific in that regard, as of course we did not want to punish any human that would discover their village during their travels. As long as the magic is controlled by a human soul, the wards remain inactive. On the other hand, if a Numen mind is the one that performs the magic… well, suffice it to say, they would be inconvenienced.

Grant began to frown before stopping to try and avoid drawing attention to the fact he was having a conversation with his invisible friend. Hang on, if you were able to create protections that were that powerful and targeted only at the Numen, how were you not able to beat them?

Well, first and foremost, they were able to create similar wards, but in reverse, so they targeted human magicians. Secondly, there were a lot more of them. And lastly, these particular wards are orders of magnitude more powerful than any that we were able to create on Earth, as their creation is intrinsically tied to the power of the Vault. Now focus on Ayodele for now, and I can answer all your questions when you sleep.

Grant's awareness snapped back to the outside world, and he realised that they had drawn to a stop in front of a simple but comfortable-looking house. Their Aziza guide had already opened the door and stepped back to let them inside. Grant followed Fyodor and the others through the door, emerging into a rather cosy little abode, all one open space containing a kitchen, dining room and bedroom. Ayodele closed the door, and stepped forward, waving his hands and sending a pot of water soaring over to a fireplace, where it hung itself just as a roaring fire flickered into life beneath it.

“Please, sit,” he smiled, gesturing again and causing the chairs around the table to slide back. Fyodor lowered himself into one of the seats, motioning for the others to follow his lead.

“Quite an impressive level of control you have,” he commented, eyes following Ayodele’s every movement closely. “I have encountered fae folk before, and each had their own powers, but you seem far more powerful than any of them.”

“That is because we are,” Ayodele responded easily as he moved into the kitchen, gathering a number of herbs and leaves. “Not all of us cryptids were created equal, and we were granted some rather unique abilities. But they pale in comparison to yours, avatar.”

“Avatar?” Fyodor said, tilting his head questioningly.

“The term that we were instructed to use last time one of your kind visited us. Is that not the correct form of address?” Ayodele inquired, his brow furrowing slightly.

“It… is not a term I am familiar with,” Fyodor answered, carefully choosing his words. “We call ourselves the Forsaken, and beings of the other races we have encountered tend to simply call us humans. Or monsters, depending on how friendly we are with them.” Fyodor paused as Ayodele smiled politely at the joke. “May I ask who told you that we were to be called avatars?”

Ayodele shook his head. “I am afraid that we never learned their name. ‘Avatar’ was the only thing they were called. Or at least, that is what our writings refer to them as.”

“Writings?” Fyodor perked up. “May I see these writings?”

Ayodele shook his head again as he threw the handful of leaves he carried high into the air, before making a slight gesture, causing them to separate and fly into six different clay mugs he had prepared. “I am afraid that they are enchanted with powerful magics that make them unable to be read or understood by anyone or anything not of the Aziza. Even if they were to be read aloud to you, you would fail to comprehend the words.”

Fyodor deflated slightly, making Grant smile at his eagerness to learn. “In that case, may I ask when you had contact with this person?” Fyodor tried.

“Oh, I believe it would have been… approximately 621 years ago. I was rather young at the time, so my memory may not be the sharpest, but that sounds about right. Rather a striking figure, they were.” He waved his hand a final time, and the six streams of boiling water flew from the pot to splash gracefully into the cups, that then also were sent through the air to place themselves in front of the humans. Ayodele sat and cupped his mug, eyes wistful as he reminisced. “Yes, quite striking. Dressed all in black, but more than that… as though the shadows themselves were drawn into their clothes, masking their features entirely. Powerful, too, or at least so the elders at the time believed. They only stayed a few days before they passed through the door, and though I remember them promising to return, they never did.” He sighed. “A shame. Whether they lied or met their doom, I do not know.”

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Silence reigned for a moment as Grant mulled over the semi-ominous words, before it was broken by Kyra leaning forward.

“Was that your only encounter with a human?” she asked, eyes sharp.

Ayodele looked at her. “No, it was not. But I am afraid that telling you more than that will encounter the enchantment upon our history that I told you about. For that would require me to tell you of the Vault, of the Numen, and of the great war for freedom that our ancestors fought. Most importantly, it would require me to inform you that I am aware of your fate, and how sorry I am that you were forced to sacrifice your lives like this.”

Grant started slightly at the final part of his sentence, before he concentrated and heard that the words underlying the translation had changed from English to a tongue he had never heard before, though it sounded a little like the African dialects he knew existed with clicks and other noises that sounded utterly bizarre to his Australian ears. He realised the second half of Ayodele’s words hadn’t been understood by anyone but him, which was further reinforced by the looks of confusion that his fellow Forsaken now wore. He quickly took a sip of his tea to cover his reaction, praying that he had gone unnoticed. Luckily, he immediately reacted in a completely different way at the first touch of the warm liquid against his tongue. Flavours burst into being, fruits, herbs, spices, honey, chocolate and dozens of other tastes washing across his senses and causing him to let loose a loud moan of pleasure. He looked up to see everyone now staring at him, and he blushed slightly.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, “it’s just… this tea, I mean… wow. Just wow.”

His companions exchanged looks before taking a sip of their own drinks, and the air was filled with sighs and moans of pleasure and contentment as they joined him in having their minds blown away by the most delicious drink imaginable. Grant relaxed slightly with relief at the surprisingly successful misdirection from his slip - only to have his eyes meet with Ayodele’s. Their gazes locked, and Grant felt a shiver run down his spine at the mix of suspicion, realisation, surprise and hope that he felt from the winged man.

“God damn,” Kyra exclaimed loudly, drinking deeply from her cup. Ayodele and Grant broke their eyelock to turn their gazes to the young woman, who continued to gulp her tea until slamming the now empty cup on the table. “You weren’t kidding Grant. That was… wow. That’s the best thing I’ve ever experienced.”

Ayodele smiled widely at the praise. “I am glad to hear you think so. It took many years of experimentation with the local flora to create the recipe.”

Fyodor cleared his throat. “If I may, to return to this visitor of yours - you said they went through ‘the’ door? As in, there is only one?”

Ayodele nodded. “Indeed. As I understand it, it stands directly across the world from where you entered - assuming you entered by the same means as the previous Avatar. I shall lead you there, if you wish. For now, however, please, feel free to stay for as long as you wish. Bedding is being arranged as we speak, and if you enjoyed the tea, I do believe you will enjoy the cuisine as well.”

Fyodor glanced at the rest of them, and not seeing any objection, replied, “Yes, I believe we will take you up on that offer, thank you. If I may, I would like to ask that I be allowed to speak to the others who have read your writings or may be more knowledgeable in general. I am quite fascinated by what you have said, and wish to learn more.”

“Of course,” agreed Ayodele amicably. “I will ask that whomever is willing to speak to you makes themselves available for your convenience. Please, finish your drinks, and I will show you to your accommodations and arrange the meetings.”

As Grant obliged and sipped his drink, laughing and talking along with his friends, he felt Ayodele’s eyes continue to flicker to him throughout the day.

That night, Grant retired to his new bed deep in thought. The day, as it seemed every day did recently, had come with a whole new set of revelations.

First, the Aziza. When he had first learned the truth of the Vault, he had glossed over something that Ki had mentioned; that every single creation of the Numen also had to be transported to the Vault, to remove every trace of the gods power from Earth. Grant hadn’t thought about it at the time, but now having met the Aziza, and hearing from Ki’s own lips - well, technically not, as it was a mental conversation, but still - that they were benevolent creatures, he realised that there were almost certainly thousands, if not millions of innocent beings that were victims to this requirement. Sure, Fyodor and Kyra had implied during his training that some species were aggressive or warlike or even plain evil, but that couldn’t have been true of all of them. Individual people that happened to be one of those ‘evil’ types of creatures would have been caught up in the initial creation of the Vault, not to mention the many, many beings he was sure were just happily living their lives, keeping to themselves, not bothering anyone - or even actively helping them. Mythology was full of stories of helpful cryptids, after all. Grant had been upset at the notion of a few dozen humans being ripped away from their world over the millenia, but he hadn’t considered that the same thing had happened to so many non-humans.

The second big revelation, though less shocking given that they were following a trail, was that there was indeed someone with a Source that had passed through this village centuries ago. While Ayodele hadn’t mentioned it in their initial conversation, Grant had heard that Fyodor had discovered, through his meetings with learned Aziza, that this ‘Avatar’ did indeed confirm that she was on a mission to find the Final Door, which was a positive sign. Though Grant had to admit, he was still uncertain why exactly finding the Final Door was Ki’s plan. After all, if there was a way to escape from the Vault, how could Ki know that Grant could find it? Or that if he did, that none of the others would use it to leave either? He would almost certainly have to physically stop the others from escaping, whether by trapping them or by hurting them, and the former left a bad taste in his mouth, whereas the latter he refused to even consider. So, with that in mind as he lay down to sleep, he resolved to have a rather direct conversation with the god living in his mind.