The night was cold and long.

Priya and the surviving villagers huddled together in a tight circle, leaning against each other, using their cloaks and body heat for warmth.

The children and Galia slept in the center of their circle, but Priya and the others kept an eye on the rotating shifts of archers that kept watch.

Priya was thankful when Serah’s eyes finally closed. As she leaned against Zachael, Priya could see the tiny bulge of her womb through her cloak. Oh, sweet little one, Priya thought. I am sorry you are coming into a world where hate and pain exists.

At times throughout the night, when the moon was at its peak, and everyone was quiet, Priya would turn inward, seeking that inner stillness. But it was hard. At every attempt, there would be a moment where she would come in contact with a block, a veil pulled over the space in which Eusou resides. And in that space stood Cleric Ingolf. She would feel his hands on her, the roughness of his touch, her clothes being ripped away, and she would pull back from it, opening her eyes, and studying her hands or the back of Anissa’s head.

Where was Eusou when she needed him the most?

Where was The Mother?

She could hear them call: I am here. I am here. I am here.

But she couldn’t find them.

Priya felt abandoned.

She felt alone in her suffering.

Hanging her head, she let the tears flow, letting them fall to the ground to be absorbed into the dry dirt, disappearing from view. Why couldn’t this pain disappear as easily? Could she not give her pain to Eusou as easily as she could give her tears to the earth?

Priya tried not to shake with her anger or her terror, but sometimes it would be too much to hold in and her body would vibrate and Anissa would lean in, wrapping her arms around her.

Why had Eusou abandoned her? Why had The Mother?

I am here. I am here. I am here.

But she couldn’t reach them. The cleric and his cold, seeking hands were always there.

It was only when she stopped trying and her eyelids closed from exhaustion that she was able to slip past the veil and find herself in the arms of The Mother.

The essence of Eusou hovered above her. Like a kind and caring father, he rested the palm of his hand on her forehead.

Why did you leave me? Priya cried out.

My child, I didn’t leave you. Eusou and The Mother spoke with one voice. I am you as much as you are me. I am in your soul. I am in your body. You have always known me. My will and destiny is your will and destiny. And the destiny of all creation is my will and destiny. I am you as much as you are me. I am you. I am me. I am. I am. I am. Let that be enough.

When you cry, we cry. When you suffer, we suffer. When that man laid his hands upon you and struck you, he struck the god he worships. When he took you with force, he did the same to the god he worships. He saw that he was greater than my creation; greater than me. But even in all that, I still love him. He has chosen to reject my love and will live out his days in the pits of despair, the same pits that he believes that everyone else except him should reside in.

He hurt you. He hurt me. But do not feel hatred for him. Feel pity. Feel love. Feel the love that Tohki gave as she burned. To love like that is sweetest of vengeances, because in the wake of such love, he will feel just how small he is. The anger inside of him that he feels consuming him will die out. And he will be transformed, if he chooses. That is what it means to love. To love means to transform; transform ourselves and others.

Priya felt peace in that moment and slept, but not for long.

When the sun broke over the eastern peaks, there was an air of dread amongst the survivors, only made worse from the lack of sleep.

“We leave within the hour!” Cleric Ingolf announced, his voice cutting through the cool morning air. “You will gather what you can carry on your backs. Nothing more. We will reach the other side of the mountains before the sun falls.”

Galia rubbed the sleep from her eyes, her brows pinched together in confusion. “But where are we going?”

“We go to the great cities that lay beyond,” Ingolf replied. “There, I pray, you will find your salvation.”

Viggo and Ulan separated the group into pairs, with the exception of Josif and his younger children, Damon, Thekla and Ami. Priya and Galia were paired together as were Anissa and Serah. Zachael and Tahel were last, Tahel leaning against Zachael for support.

In turn, each pair was guarded. The archers walked behind them a few paces back with an arrow nocked and their bowstring taut.

Ulan went with Priya and Galia. As they passed the pyre, Galia turned away burrowing her face into Priya shoulder, stifling a cry.

“Come,” Priya said, holding her. “Let us check Thekla’s hovel first.”

When they rounded what remained of the House of Eusou, they saw what remained of Thekla’s humble home. The roof had collapsed, bringing down the walls. There wasn’t much left. The fire had burned strong, perhaps because of the dry wood, perhaps because of all the dried herbs hanging from the roof.

Where the wood had burnt away, Priya could see smashed jars and vials. Her heart clenched at the sight. She had retained a hope that there would be some medicines left. Something to tide them over on their long journey.

The hovel still smoked, but there were no visible embers.

A large piece of the roof hadn’t burned up and Priya’s hope soared. Carefully, her and Galia stepped through the ash. She slid her fingers underneath the food and when she didn’t feel any heat, nodded at Galia to do the same.

They strained, trying to lift the roof, but it was too heavy.

With pleading eyes they looked to Ulan who stood guard.

Frowning, he shook his head, looking to Cleric Ingolf who still stood in the center of the village. “I cannot,” he said. “I am sorry.”

“Please,” asked Priya.

And again he shook his head.

“How long will the journey be?” Priya inquired.

Ulan sighed, scratching the hair behind his ear. “It will be two full moons before we reach the outskirts of the city.”

Priya pointed to the wooden roof that lay unmarred by the fire. “The woman that you burned yesterday, Thekla, was a healer. You call her witch. You call her medicine magic. She trained me in those magics, as you call them. But they are not magic. They work. They heal. And they can help us on our journey. Two full moons is a long time to walk and any number of things may happen to us or to you.”

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Ulan released his bow and held out his hand. Priya could see that it was red and blistered from the fire. “Can your magic help me with this?”

Priya reached into her satchel and found her vial of balm she had made for Thekla several moons ago. “Aye. It can.” She stepped back through the ash. Rubbing her thumb’s edge through the balm, she scrapped off some of the hardened beeswax. She massaged it with her fingers to soften it, then took Ulan’s wounded hand in hers, rubbing the balm over the reddened and blistered skin.

He grunted at the pressure of her fingers. When she was done, Ulan looked at his hand, a bewildered expression on his face. “Thank you,” he muttered.

“Can you help us?” Priya asked again.

Ulan looked back towards the cleric and was about to shake his head again when a cry came from the other edge of the village. Viggo appeared from behind the charred ruins of Anissa and Aaron’s house, guiding the stallion and mare by their leads. Anissa and Serah were close behind, clutching a few items they had saved to their chests. Cleric Ingolf turned his back, walking towards Viggo.

“Let us hurry,” Ulan said, stepping with Priya to the other side of the roof. He bent down, hooking his shoulder underneath the heavy wood and heaved, pushing it up a few feet. “Be quick about it.”

Priya ducked underneath, careful of the bits and pieces of broken glass. Everything was in ruins, but she saw something shine underneath the table that still stood. Crawling, she saw a few bundles of herbs that had some char but had otherwise survived the fire. She slipped them into her satchel, with a mental note to study them further. Underneath the table, though, was a treasure: a jar full of the mushrooms Tohki would give the men for their passage, small jars of raspberry leaves and ceyaka, and the charred remains of the recipes Tohki and the other Crones had gathered over the years.

Picking up the collection of white fire tree bark that held hundreds of years of knowledge and clutching it to her chest, Priya crawled back out through the ruins.

When she emerged, Ulan lowered the roof back to the ground, grunting as he did.

Priya knelt on the earth, setting the collection of recipes down. Several of the outer layers had burnt. As Priya flipped them over, she could barely read the charcoal scratchings on them, and as she held them up to the sunlight they crumbled beneath her fingers. But there were still many that survived. Picking them up, she placed them inside her satchel, and looking inside she carefully maneuvered the jars and other free herbs that lay inside, making sure nothing would cause too much noise or break.

A piece of her smiled, though she did not let it touch her face. Tohki lived on through her work. Priya would make sure of that.

Priya and Galia walked through the village with Ulan close behind. There wasn’t much left that was salvageable. They were lucky to find a few sheep’s bladders that the hunters would use for their all day hunts to hold water. But their stores for food were burnt to the ground. They found a few apples and strips of dried beef and fish, but that was it. It wasn’t near enough for a journey that would take two moons.

“We are going to die, aren’t we?” Galia asked.

Priya didn’t know the answer and telling her to have faith in Eusou didn’t feel like the right answer.

Ulan shook his head. “If you are strong enough to make it over these mountains, you will be strong enough to make the journey. The plains between here and the cities are full of life. We came here with very little. God provided. We will be able to hunt and have fresh meat. There is plenty of wood and grass for fires, as well.” He looked towards Viggo and the two horses. “And now that we have horses, we should be able to carry more.”

Priya nodded, running several paces ahead to Asa’s house and forge. Kneeling down on the north side of her house, she dug her fingers into the dirt, unearthing potatoes they had stored for the winter months. They were large and round and still firm. She pulled them out one by one, setting them down next to her.

“If we can find something to hold these in, we can take them with us,” she said.

Galia laid out a discarded cloak she had found. She spread it across the dirt and began to gather the potatoes into it, before gathering it up at the edges to make as a carrying sack.

Priya gave a sharp whistle and the other survivors, spread across the village, looked up. “The winter stores!” she called. “Bring whatever survived the fire!”

Josif and Zachael nodded and got to work digging.

Soon there was an enormous haul, mostly of potatoes. They fashioned bags out of whatever they could find. They packed the vegetables in with dirt so that rot wouldn’t set in.

Taking all the sheep’s bladders they could find, the women went to the spring to fill them, along with the water vessels the cleric and his men had.

Boots were tightened and cloaks wrapped close.

Bags were loaded onto the horses along with whatever water they couldn’t carry and they were ready to go.

Cleric Ingolf’s voice cracked like a whip, urging them forward.

Zachael and Josif led the horses and the rest of the village followed their steps with the armed men and Ingolf following last, a constant threat at their backs.

They cut through the village, heading east, stepping over the spring and then entering the forest. Occasionally, Ingolf would shout directions to Zachael and Josif. “Turn left,” “Turn right,” or “Go between those trees there.”

Priya, Serah, and Anissa helped with the younger children, urging them on or carrying them when their legs grew tired.

Occasionally, Priya would see familiar plants and would veer away from the group and, as discreetly as possible, harvest with a quick prayer of thanks.

The sun was high in the sky by the time they had passed through the forest and reached the base of the mountains. Ingolf’s directions were precise though and Priya could see the makings of a path up towards the distant peaks. It cut north, then cut back onto a ridge continuing south for a while, before it cut back again. There was a pattern to it, but as Priya looked up, her neck straining, she could see the chaos to it as well.

“Migratory patterns of elk and mountain goats,” Josif explained. “They would pass this way each year to get to the vale where there was fresh water and food for the winter.”

While the horses' hooves managed the traverse well, there were sections that were too steep for Priya and the others. The loose rocks scooted out from underneath their feet and they would stumble, sliding back a few feet. The cleric would use his staff to aid him in the hike up, but the villagers and the archers would scramble up, using their hands, a few feet at a time.

Priya thought many times of kicking down the loose rocks onto the archers below her, but thought better of it. Who knows what the avalanche of debris might cause and even if it did its job and incapacitated the archers and the cleric, they would have to go back down the same way and would there be a safe path anymore? Would the strangers be injured and still able to cause harm as they passed them? Priya was sure that others thought the same. It was written on their faces as they looked back at those that climbed behind them.

When they reached the top, they stood in awe of the view before them. For so long, all they had known was the vale: the familiar grasses, the tall pine trees of their forest, the brook, the lake and the spring, the wild animals that would roam there, the fruit trees, their gardens, Serah and Zachael’s herd of sheep. All of that stood behind them and what stretched before them was full of newness and anticipation.

Part of Priya had thought that the cleric had lied and that what lay beyond the mountains was desolation. But there was life beyond the mountains.

Down past the rocky slopes, trees spread out far and wide. From a distance they looked exactly like the pine trees from the vale’s forest. The mountainous terrain turned into rolling hills. Further on, Priya could see a wide body of water, snaking its way through the landscape. Birds flew, swooping and diving, calling to one another. This was a land that was full of life; full of Eusou and The Mother.

The path was clearer on the other side; seemingly cut into the side of the mountain. There was no more crawling and scrambling as they weaved their way down, further and further, abandoning the larger rocks and boulders for small patches of grass and then small, wind-blown trees that grew larger as the air grew thicker.

The wind blew and with it came the familiar scent of pine trees. They could hear the call of birds now. Small rodent-like creatures popped up around the rocky outcrops, chirping at them as they passed, surprised by the intrusion.

Priya kept looking for signs of human life, but there were none; not even visible from the higher elevations. If she had known such beauty and wonder had existed outside the vale, perhaps she and Arcas could have crossed over and gone exploring. But there was a reason why, for hundreds of years, no one left the vale. Months ago, Tohki had told a story about the world burning. Priya had seen it in her visions, as well.

It wasn’t until they were deep into the forest on the other side of the mountain that Priya began to see signs that perhaps Tohki’s story was real. Long dark grooves cut through the forest floor; cracks in the earth, deeper than Tohki could see. At the base of trees, she could see the darkened color that fire leaves behind and further on there were the skeletal remains of ancient trees either fallen on their sides or upright. When they walked past them, Priya touched one and it was hard as rock, calcified and hardened over time.

Even when the sun set, the cleric kept them walking. No one complained, because they didn’t know what their complaint would gain them.

Finally, when the moon was high, they reached an opening in the forest; a clearing surrounded by a band of trees. Near its edge, Cleric Ingolf called a rest.

Josif and Zachael released the horses to graze in the nearby meadow.

Ingolf had Priya and Galia gather on the empty sheeps’ bladders and had them follow Ulan to a nearby brook to fill them. The water was clean and pure. Once the bladders were full, Priya dipped her hands into the cool water and splashed it on her face, flicking some at Galia playfully.

“Come on,” Ulan said gruffly. “Let’s get back.”

When they got back to the camp, a fire was already roaring and the archers had a few small creatures cooking and sizzling over the flames.

They ate in silence and just as they had the night before, the villagers huddled together to sleep. At least this night they were close to a fire.

Sleep found them swiftly and they dreamed about what lay before them in this new world, mourning those they had left behind.