James had been in bed for five whole days, sleeping and resting his wounds at Dahlia’s hut as he was treated by some nice townsfolk. He apparently had it the worst, right next to Felix and Dahlia. The old doctor who had treated him called it a miracle that he had survived at all. He recommended that James not get up at all for the rest of the week and not to disturb his bandages. Regardless, the injured man had tried to get out there to help fix the damage done to the town. On his third attempt, Dahlia had threatened to break his legs to force him to stay in bed. James didn’t like it, but he complied.

He did help, though, by instructing Harald and Haggard to burn the corpse of the creature that had attacked Yorktown and to find out where it had come from. They returned to him a day later, informing him of the cabin they had found in the forest and the fate of those who had lived there. They had burned those bodies, too, as they had crystallized in the same way as the creature. Harald had never seen anything like it, and Haggard was disturbed by the mere thought of such a creature. James had thanked them, and they went off to help with the rebuilding.

James had also noticed Seamus’ attitude, as he seemed more lively. He wasn’t cracking jokes or anything, but he wasn’t as depressing as before. Still, his face would lose color as soon as anyone asked about his involvement in the raid. Seamus would refuse to talk about it.

According to the shopkeeper who was saved by Seamus, the young man had single-handedly killed four marauders in quick succession, all without a single scratch on him. Dahlia had described what the bodies had looked like, and it sent shivers down James' spine.

‘What is Seamus capable of?’

He wanted to talk to Seamus about it, but something told him he shouldn’t ask around.

Felix didn’t want to talk to James, not after discovering Thomas’ fate. James had wanted to talk things over, to explain everything. Still, he ultimately decided against it, knowing that the archer needed time. James was the reason why they needed to burn the dead guard’s body, as it had started to crystalize soon after that fateful day. James and Faust hoped it would be the last they ever saw of the thing.

Unfortunately, it was all the young man could see in his new nightmares, which had replaced his strange, unexplainable dreams. He would always wake up out of breath and covered in sweat. Fortunately, he wasn't loud enough to wake Dahlia and Seamus from their slumber, both of whom slept near him.

Dahlia’s hut was where James would be living, and the same was true for Seamus, as he felt much more comfortable around them both. James didn’t want to admit it, but he was glad that they were there with him when he slept. It relieved him to know that his nightmare was just a nightmare.

Throughout the days when Seamus and Dahlia weren’t around, James would talk with Faust to pass the time. Unfortunately, the forgetful spirit wasn’t much fun to talk to. As he rested and healed, James would often glance over at his father, whose urn continued to sit in the corner undisturbed. He would often remember the promise he had made to his father back on Earth.

“When I pass away in this world… promise me you’ll spread my ashes here, at my home.”

James never fulfilled his father’s dying wish. He had always pushed it back, making excuses to himself like,

“I’ll do it next year.” “There are too many people over there.” “I have no time.”

It was always excuses, excuses that not even he himself believed in. He would think about this up until the fifth day.

It was already evening, and the sky above was slowly dimming. James slipped out of bed, groaning as his bedsore body slowly walked to the corner of the room. Half of his body was covered in bandages, an improvement from the first day of rest. Dahlia was currently out picking herbs, and Seamus was in town, helping with the town’s rebuilding. James was all alone. Well, not exactly.

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‘You sure you want to get up?’ Faust asked, just as James bent over to pick up some clothes to slip into.

“I’ll be fine. Besides, I need to move around anyway. I can’t just stay in bed and not stretch every once in a while.” James slipped on a wool shirt and winced as he moved his sore legs to put on some pants. He didn't even bother to tie up his boots once he slipped them on. Soon enough, James was ready to go out, his hands moving to grab his father’s urn. The young man shivered as he stepped out into the cold outside. The skies were a little clearer, the distant sun visible between them.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen the sun since my first day here,” James commented. He clutched onto the urn as he made his way up the small mountain nearby.

It took a while, longer than James had expected, to climb the overgrown hill. There was more snow than he had realized.

“Dahlia did say that Frost was approaching,” James remembered, dreading the cold season as he walked. He had also been learning some more about the world he was in. Like on Earth, there were four seasons in total, but this world’s seasons were warped.

The Frost season took over most of the year, dwarfing Gale and Bloom. Sommar was the only bastion of hope when actual warm weather, but even that lasted for only two months before going into eight more months of cold. At the moment, regular, brutal Frost was approaching, and the otherworldly man would have to be ready.

James caught his breath as he reached his destination, looking over at the small entrance into the mountain, the one that led to the very place he was summoned. He turned over at a cliff that overlooked the island and the black waters of the ocean. The sun was now setting in the distance, casting its orange light onto the sea and clouds. James noticed a figure sitting nearby, their shadow casting all across the ground. It was Dahlia, sitting peacefully at the cliff’s edge.

“Dahlia?” James asked, snapping the shaman away from her thoughts. She looked over at him, her brow furrowing.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?” She asked in surprise.

James shrugged. “Thought I’d go for a walk… and fulfill a promise while I’m at it.” He looked at his father, the silver urn reflecting the beautiful orange sunlight. Dahlia sighed, turning her head back to the sunset. James walked up next to her, grunting with effort as he sat down next to her, clutching his father’s urn close.

“Why are you up here?” James asked.

“I like to come here to think,” Dahlia said simply, sighing as she kicked a small pebble off the cliff. James refrained from asking the painfully obvious question of what she was thinking about. Instead, he nodded, staying quiet as the two sat. “What promise are you going to fulfill?” Dahlia asked, looking over at James.

The blond man gently tapped the urn.

“I promised him I would spread his ashes in his homeland, Norway. But I, uh… I never managed to do it.” He gestured towards the sea. “I know I can’t go back home, but… well, the waters here remind me of a lake my dad loved back home. It reminded him of home, so I’m sure this will as well. At least, if he was still alive.”

James glanced at Dahlia, expecting to see her weirded out or fascinated. But she wasn’t. Her face had the look of someone who understood, someone who sympathized with him. James had seen people do it before, back when his mother had died. They had told him that they were sorry and faked a similar look to try to make him feel better. The only difference, however, was that Dahlia actually seemed to hurt with him, as she had gone through the same thing. She wasn’t faking it, her amber eyes showing him that she truly sympathized.

James turned back to his father, swallowing his emotions as he stood up. The wind blew softly through his hair as he looked out at the sunset. His hands shook as he went to grab the lid. Yet, despite having his hand there, he hesitated. His father was all he had left. All he had left of Earth, home and family. He couldn’t let go of it. Not as easily as he had initially thought. Just as James decided to give up again, he felt a gentle hand over his. Dahlia didn’t say a word as she guided his hands, pulling off the lid of the urn. Both of them slowly turned the urn towards the sunset, the ashes of his father falling out before being carried by the gentle cold breeze. The ashes flew off, disappearing into the distant horizon. Both James and Dahlia stood there quietly, their hands still holding each other as they watched the sunset.

For the first time in years, James felt a weight lift off his shoulders.