“Will you be coming back?” Tiv sniffs, arms tight around Gridel’s waist.

“Yeah, she definitely will,” Zan says, hands on her hips. She frowns, staring up at Gridel with the most pleading look on her face. “Right?”

Gridel hums. “We might, after we have rid the world of the Horsemen. It’s not long now, though, so you wouldn’t have to wait long.”

Zan grins. “Okay, you promised.”

Tiv echoes that, and Gridel bends down to ruffle their hair. Ren watches it all from atop Sylph’s back, his fingers tight around Her scales. Penny, Vane, and Mavell are already sitting astride Her as well.

Ren offers Gridel a hand, and he pulls her up. She settles snugly between Ren and Vane.

“I assume that we are headed for Beville first?” Sylph asks.

“Yeah,” Penny says. “We gotta go get that map.”

Ren chimes out his affirmation. He glances back at the cheering crowd, the swathes of people, both young and old, Bevillian and Gyldonian, waving at them. He waves back, and Penny yells out her well wishes. Ren spots Chief Grimm, with his daughter Gisella, amidst the chaos. The man offers them a reassuring smile, as though reminding them that everything would turn out all right.

Even as they head off to a new land, even as they leave for new environments, new adventures, they’ll never forget the people they leave behind. Even if they’ve only met them for a few short days, a few short weeks, the relief and joy that they bring will stay with them for life.

It’s time to move on, to defeat the final Horseman and end this farce once and for all.

*

“Here it is,” Mavell says. He holds up a book to Ren, who accepts it gratefully. The archives of Beville are dusty, filled with tomes both tattered and new that reach even the ceiling. Ren smiles and thanks him, but Mavell dismisses it with a wave.

Ren is about to head back out of the Clocktower when the captain stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “About your suggestion, I’ve given it some thought. And I decided that… I may as well try.”

“You mean you’re running for minister?” This is rather unexpected.

Mavell nods. “Indeed. Whilst I may have been the Captain of the Guard for a long time, I do believe that the city will need to recover from its time under Minister Berg’s tyrannical rule. And… I do not like to toot my own horn, but I do feel like I am a good fit for the position.”

“How so?”

“Let’s just say that determination plays a big part in wanting to see this city return to its former glory,” Mavell says. “Besides, I have been incredibly inspired by you and your companions in your perseverance and resolution in fulfilling your goals.”

Ren salutes him. “Thanks. I hope you manage to achieve your goals too, Captain.”

Mavell smiles, his lips drawn tight over his face, his eyes forming crescent moons. He salutes Ren as well. “Thank you for your kind words, Luminary. I also wish you well on your journey, and may we hope that you are the salvation that our world needs.”

The captain escorts Ren out of the archives, past the rows of soldiers thanking Ren for their service and begging him to pardon their crimes. Ren assures as many as he can that they had to do what they were ordered to, that whatever happened was out of their control.

Down the chilly streets of Beville Ren strides, glad that even past the neat rows of guards, he can no longer see any corpses littering the roads. Things are already looking up for Beville with the plague gone. Hopefully, he’d return to a bustling city, not one with empty streets and people too afraid to leave their homes.

As Ren passes by the final shop of the high street, he stares through the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man who helped to repair Vane’s blade. The last he saw of Ripwael, the blacksmith had been coughing his lungs out, and he was working despite the pain he was in. Ren hadn’t had time nor opportunity to check up on the man till now.

However, when he peers through the shop window, he can see Ripwael hard at work. No signs of the cough, no signs of any weakness in his strikes of a sword against his anvil. With the Horseman’s influence gone, Ren can only assume that the blacksmith made a full recovery.

Ren soon comes to the end of the high street, and he can already spot Sylph and his companions waiting a distance. More specifically, at the fork that leads to both Drasil Mountain and Gyldon. He bids Mavell a hurried goodbye, before turning his back on the city for good.

The jog from the city to the fork in the road certainly wakes up those sleeping muscles. Ren finds himself out of breath as he slows down to a walk. He hands the book to Vane, who opens it and thumbs through the pages. He, and Gridel, has been on expeditions during his time in Gravelle—surely, they would know how to read a map.

“It’s off in this direction,” Gridel says, gesturing at the direction in between the two branches of the fork. “If we just continue this way, we should be able to reach Ruk’vahn.”

“And it looks like it’s a few days’ trek,” Vane says. “But if we go by air, we should reduce our travelling time considerably.”

“Wonderful,” Sylph says. “Climb aboard now, and let us be off.”

With a mighty flap of Her wings, Sylph takes to the skies. Ren is getting accustomed to this, honestly—the whoosh of wind against his skin, the numbness of his cheeks as they rush through the blue, soaring between the clouds.

“Oh, right. Sylph. There’s one question I’ve got to ask,” Ren says.

“And what is that?”

“Vane saw in a book, right, about the four great spirits of the elements. So, there’s you, Ignis, Aqua and…”

“And Terra.”

“Isn’t it Gaia?”

“Gaia?” Ren can hear the confused frown in Her voice. “That is… a familiar name.”

“Gaia is the great spirit of the earth,” Vane says adamantly.

Sylph hums. “There is no doubt in my mind that I had worked with Terra before. Perhaps liaised with Her with regards to political matters, but…”

“That was when you were still alive?” Penny asks.

“Yes. It was when we were still alive.”

“Then maybe Terra passed Her power down to Gaia or something,” Ren suggests. “You know, like how princes succeed the thrones of kings.”

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

“Perhaps.” Sylph pauses, as though searching for the right words. “If Gaia was made Terra’s successor, then that means that it happened sometime after the Horsemen were unleashed upon Zenthos.”

That would mean that Sylph would not have known, since she’s been protecting Gyldon the whole time.

“What was it like, actually?” Penny asks. “We’ve only heard bits and pieces here and there. About Ignis, and, uh… apparently you guys knew each other?”

“Ignis was the ruler of Heliola—surely you know that,” Sylph says. “We were simply rulers. Me, Terra, and Aqua. You could call us a council of sorts. Each of us governed a quarter of Zenthos.”

Sylph in Frosgott, Terra in Gravelle, Aqua in Ilecthia and Ignis in Ruk’vahn, probably.

“Of course, we had a Monarch’s Colloquy every year, so that we are able to discuss matters that concern the whole of Zenthos. Changing climates, imports and exports… the list goes on and on.”

Not so different from their human world, huh?

“What happened to Heliola, if you don’t mind me asking?” Penny inquires.

Sylph chuckles. “I don’t mind at all. It happened about three hundred years ago, and it is with Heliola’s fall that the apocalypse occurred.”

“But what about Heliola made it special?” Ren asks.

“For one, it is the only floating city in the world,” Sylph says. “Second, Ignis was its ruler. And thirdly… it also carried Pandora’s Box in the Caged Vault.”

“Pandora’s Box?” Vane asks. Ren almost jumps—it’s the first time the man spoke since they started this lengthy journey.

“Indeed. With the destruction of Pandora’s Box, the apocalypse was brought upon us,” Sylph says. “It is said that Pandora’s Box contained unimaginable power. That it would have made any who opened it invincible.”

Penny fidgets with Sylph’s scales. “And where did this Box come from?”

“The Old Ones. The great spirits that existed before we did. When they handed us this Box, they told us that it contained power that would benefit a single individual—the person who opened it—by granting them the power and the status of an Old One. However, it would come at a great price.”

“Which is the apocalypse…” Ren mumbles.

“Yes, but we didn’t know that. No one did. It was after receiving this Box that we held our first Colloquy, to decide what to do with it. We shared a unanimous response: that we were opposed to opening the box, for we were wary of the destruction that it could bring to the world.”

“Then you decided to keep it in the Caged Vault?” Vane asks.

“Quite right. It hadn’t been built, mind you. Ignis was the one who ordered its construction, specifically to hold the Box. We were afraid that it would fall into the wrong hands, you see. It would be a great disaster should an impure soul become a great spirit.”

“They’d just start going wild, huh?” Penny says.

Sylph nods, the barest duck of Her head. “That was what we feared. However, with the fall of Heliola, Pandora’s Box went down along with it. It is likely that the Vault was destroyed in the crash, and the Box as well, releasing its evils unto our land.”

“But who would become a great spirit if no one opened it?” Penny asks. “Does that mean that the Box caused the apocalypse, but gave nothing in return?”

“I can only imagine that someone did become a great spirit,” Sylph says. “Perhaps the person was chosen at random, or perhaps they had been the nearest when it was opened. There may even be some other criteria that I have not thought of.”

Or maybe… no one got the power at all. That’s still a distinct possibility.

“We’re here.”

Peering over Sylph’s shoulder, Ren sees it: the barren lands of Ruk’vahn, mountains and deserts for as far as the eye can see. Cacti dot the sand, little sticks of green stark against the orange of the dunes. Tumbleweed blow across the lands, chased by groups of desert denizens with four limbs and bushy tails.

“I must return to my people now,” Sylph says. “I do believe that we can manage on our own now, with the Horseman gone.”

Penny smiles. “Yeah. We’ll be leaving that to you, Sylph. Keep Tiv, Zan, and the others safe, okay?”

Sylph chuckles, promising them that She would, before beating her wings and leaving in the direction of Beville. Ren turns away from the land of the frozen, shrugging off his coat as he steps into the land of the blazing sun. Not that there is a sun, but it certainly is hotter here than in Frosgott.

The final Horseman roams this region—the region of Ruk’vahn. Crossing off the first three Horsemen of the Apocalypse, this one must be… the Horseman of Famine. Well, Ren can certainly see why. Well, he isn’t very sure that Ruk’vahn would really need a Horseman to experience famine…

“There’s something over there,” Penny says, gesturing to what looks to be a strange, jagged structure in the distance. From here, and with its image distorted by heatwaves, Ren can’t quite make out what it is.

“Let’s go over there, then,” Gridel says. “Chances are, we might stumble upon the Horseman’s palace.”

“It’s quite a bit of a trek, though.” Penny pats the waterskin clasped to her belt. “We really need to make sure to conserve our food and water.”

Penny sets off first, with a “Well, what are we waiting for” attitude and a spring in her step. Gridel quickly jogs after her. The only one who hasn’t moved is Vane, and he’s staring, deep in thought, at the structure.

“What’s wrong?” Ren asks. Other than the heat, that is.

“I’m… I’m sure of it,” Vane says. “That there”—he stabs a finger at the building—“is the fallen kingdom of Heliola.”

“Wait, what? Seriously?”

“It was depicted in many ancient works, this ruined city. If you read enough, you would be able to recognise it at a glance.”

“Do you think that the Horseman would be there?”

Vane shrugs. “It’s a good a place to try as any. No matter the case, I’m sure we’d be able to find shelter there. Resources, on the other hand, may not be as easy to come by.”

Ren wonders about that. Vane may as well be right—do people still live in a place like this? He’s heard that humans are tenacious, and can thrive literally anywhere. But contending with conditions as harsh as these, being hunted down by a Horseman, and suffering from a lack of a protective great spirit, he isn’t sure that they’d be able to find people, much less a flourishing settlement.

He can only hope that they can reach the fallen city of Heliola, as Vane calls that looming mountain of ruins. Before the Horseman finds them, or before they succumb to the elements.

*

They are lucky. Extremely lucky. In the sense that they did not once meet the Horseman during their travels. It may have taken them hours—it certainly felt like an eternity. They took periodic breaks, ducking into caves to avoid raging sandstorms, or resting by dried oases to catch their breath. But their arduous journey only makes their arrival at the fallen city of Ruk’vahn all the more rewarding.

Standing at the very base of the floating island that crashed into the ground, the first thing that Ren thought of, is that it’s huge. Just enormous. An entire plot of land filled with buildings that are people-sized, with a magnificent castle situated in the middle of all those abandoned homes. How majestic must this place have looked back when it still brimmed with life? With people? Instead of the dusty, empty husk that it is now, plunged into the earth, lying on its side?

The fall of Heliola caused the apocalypse, they say. Ren’s never quite noticed until now, just what’s been bugging him the whole time. If the fall caused the apocalypse… then what caused the fall?

“What caused the fall?”

Ren jolts at Vane’s voice. He must have been thinking aloud, for Penny and Gridel have turned to look at him as well.

“Well, yeah. I was just a little curious, is all,” Ren says. “I mean, what caused Heliola to fall? Something like this doesn’t just happen without warning, does it?”

Vane shrugs. “Something big must have occurred, but I doubt that we’d ever find out. After all, it happened three hundred years in the past.”

“Man, we should have asked Sylph,” Penny says.

Something tells Ren that Sylph doesn’t know anything about it either. If she did, she probably would have said something.

“Do you think Pandora’s Box could still be around?” Penny asks. “It should be buried here somewhere, right?”

“Probably. However, I don’t think that it would be wise to venture too far into the ruins,” Gridel says. “We wouldn’t want to be caught in a rain of rubble.”

Penny pouts, but she does not argue that point. They opt to look for a house that’s still standing, still weathering the heat, that looks relatively stable. It’s a little hard to balance on the slanted roads—Ren finds himself scrabbling to find traction sometimes. Penny outright trips, Vane catching her before she can impale herself on a pointed, crushed pillar.

Eventually, after much searching, they find a place, a small house, protected by its towering neighbours. It’s dark, almost pitch-black, its furniture all hurled to one side, but it’s liveable.

“Okay, so… let’s settle here for today and get some rest,” Penny says. She cups her mouth and stifles a yawn. “Tomorrow, we’ll get searching for the palace, yeah?”

The suggestion is met with no objections. Gridel sets about preparing their dinner, whilst Vane moves to scout out the area, to make sure that there’s truly nothing around that can harm them.

Ren is just glad that he can rest his aching feet. A trek that took them about ten hours or so is most definitely not an activity to be trifled with. He finds a nice spot on the corner of a desk, sitting himself down and groaning at the subsiding throb in his feet.

Penny is curled up on the bed, snuggled up in the threadbare blanket. How she can stand to be under that thing baffles Ren. His clothes are utterly drenched in sweat, sticking to his body and totally uncomfortable. He leans against the wall, back pressed flush against the, surprisingly, cooling stone.

He shuts his eyes, listening to only the whistle of the breeze and Penny’s quiet snores. And within seconds, he sinks right into dreamland.