“Jormund,” Mrs. Noin voiced his name, but he did not react to it. His eyes locked on Guins, and fear began to creep into her heart.

“Every day,” Jormund continued. “Every day I pray to the Lady, asking her ‘Why? Why have you done all of this to me? Who am I to deserve such a test?’ But no answer comes. Not from her. Not from her—from them. They have always spoken to me...” His voice trailed off, and his eyes broke away. “As a child, I was always afraid. And that fear consumed me. Fear of the Church. Fear of the spirits. Fear of my mother. Fear of the Lady. And then I met Master Rew.

“I had been tricked into going into the woods one day. A spirit in the shape of a puppy had led me astray into the woods. When it revealed itself and attacked me... I was so tired... I wanted it to kill me. But Master Rew saved me. He just hit it on the head, gave it a good scolding, and it just ran off with its tail between its legs. How many times did he save me and laugh it off? I don’t remember. He helped me. I know, Guin, that the spirits... there are spirits out there that are genuinely kind, but there are also those whose kindness is false. You must never forget that.”

“I won't,” Guin murmured, thinking of what it must have been like for him.

“Once my fear lessened, he began to teach me. His grandson—Euen—and I became fast friends; the first I had ever really had. He worshipped the ground Master Rew walked on and loved his stories, but I was the reason those stories were told to us. I was the reason that Master Rew taught us the ways of the forest,” Jormund said.

“He was training you,” Guin realized. “He wanted you to take his place as the Servant of the Dragon King.”

Jormund nodded and looked into the fire in the fireplace. “There has always been guilt toward Euen. He wanted so desperately to see into Master Rew’s world. Would that I could give my eyes to him that he could,” he said. “At the same time, though, I was happy. I felt it was my answer. ‘Ah. So this is what the Lady intended for me.’ I had found my place. Until Mother found out.”

“The Paladin...” Guin looked into her tea cup. Of course...

“I had no choice...” Jormund choked.

Alta Noin knelt beside the pastor and stroked his hair. “Oh, my boy,” she said. “You were only a child....”

“It didn’t matter,” he said bitterly. “Time passed, and I gave up. I never told anyone again—I was so careful! Even my wife never knew about any of it,” his voice cracked as more tears fell down his face. “Things would have been so different... Euen is right. He always was. If I wasn’t such a liar!” He doubled over, sobbing, with Mrs. Noin cooing softly, bringing him into her lap.

It seems that everything is coming together, she thought, watching him cry. ‘Jormund the Celestial Paladin.’ ‘Jormund the Pale.’ Perhaps, ‘Jormund, Servant of the Dragon King’ was his third outcome. Guin ran a finger around the lip of her cup.

The first felt redeemed and forgiven for his sins, finding peace in the Lady whom he loved. Perhaps this was an outcome common for people seeking to become healers or other such holy classes.

The more common outcome was the ignored, left to be eaten by the madness buried deep in his mind; corrupted by sin, he shouldered the burden for all on his own. Alone...

Guin shot up in her seat and stared at him. What was it that Dawl had told her?

‘The Corruption, you see, is a spirit itself, created by the malice of other spirits—malice so strong that it has gained the power to influence the thoughts and minds of souls and drag them into its own power. The more souls it gathers into itself, the stronger it becomes. But it is not darkness or evil, girl, nor is it anger. It is very depth of sadness.”

Gripping the arm of the chair tightly, she felt sick to her stomach.

“I-I am sorry,” Jormund started again. “I-I did not call you here for this—a story. Yes,” he said, clearing his throat. “There has been corruption here in my life before. My wife... She always believed in the good hearts of the spirits and sought a Che-bound spirit to grant a wish of hers. Silly girl. She was a good, wise woman, but her childish nature often led her to dream of the impossible. She had asked me to meet her at the crossroads that day, but I... I didn’t. I didn’t want to go into the woods. I didn’t want to see the spirits. And because of that, I lost her.” Guin and Mrs. Noin sat quietly as Jormund regained composure. “By the time we found her, the Corruption had already taken hold. The Spirit Stag she had caught took only a day to become a malevolent spirit. She was kept conscious—just barely—by the power of the spirit. I could only go to her. Hold her. Her heart had stopped long before we got there. Master Rew called the Dragon King and made a bargain: Master Rew’s life for the forest’s.”

“So,” Mrs. Noin broke in. “That was what happened. I suspected when Euen told me, but....”

“I am sorry,” Jormund apologized to her, but she shook her head. Turning to Guin, he said, “My point is, Guin, even Master Rew could not prevent what happened. Not even the Dragon King.”

Licking her lips, Guin considered. She could only guess what sorrow caused the Spirit Stag to change so quickly. Tik-Tak’s mother seemed as if she would have accepted her death were it not for the corruption already in place. Indeed; she seemed to resist it quite strongly. Because she’s angry, not sad, Guin thought to herself. The fox spirit was angry, but her love for her cub seemed stronger than that hate. Perhaps it’s Jormund’s faith that keeps him from turning... Looking Jormund over, she wondered if that's what the inevitable catalyst for his corruption would be—the loss of faith.

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“While I understand now, your reprehension,” Guin began, deciding her path. “My resolution remains firm. There is nothing you can say or do that will change my mind.”

To her surprise, Pastor Jormund chuckled and sighed. Leaning back, he smiled at her and let his shoulders sag as if a great weight were lifted. “I thought you would say that,” he said, standing. After helping Alta Noin up and setting her in one of the armchairs, he took out a small bag from his pocket and handed it to Guin. “This is the least that I can do now. Inside this bag is a special herb called [Spirits’ Tears]. Carrying it should ease the effects of the corruption you are exposed to. If there is nothing I can say to stop you, then at least I wanted you to understand the risks involved and give you this.”

Accepting the bag, Guin pulled up the tooltip.

<<[Bag of Spirits’ Tears]>>

<< Bound - Accessory - Totem - Rank -- >>

<< Protects from the effects of Spirit Corruption. >>

<< It is said that when spirits cry tears of joy, the tears to seeds that turn into these pretty flowers. They have great healing and cleansing effects in medicines and vases—and just in simple bags, too, apparently. >>

<< Required Level: -- - Rarity: -- - Class Requirements: -- >>

Equipping it, a small bag appeared on a string around her waist. “Thank you, Pastor Jormund.”

“I wish...” he started but shook his head. “No. I know that even if I don’t want you to go, someone must. We must try, at least—and I have a feeling that you have a better chance than anyone.”

Guin smiled at him, but a knock came at the door before she could respond.

“Why, I wonder who that could be?” Mrs. Noin asked, wiping her tears from her face quickly. Pulling herself out of her chair, she shuffled over to the door and opened it. “E-Euen!” Guin heard her cry and turned. Pastor Jormund nearly jumped out of his skin and backed up a little.

“Grandmother,” Dawl’s voice carried over. “Is there a girl here named ‘Guin’?”

“Yes! Oh, come in, dear! What a day today! So many visitors! So many lovely faces!” Mrs. Noin seemed to have an endless supply of tears as she pulled Euen inside. He froze the moment he saw Jormund in the room but remained expressionless. “Let me put more tea on for everyone!” the old woman exclaimed and went about busing herself.

“N-No, I—” Dawl tried to protest, but Alta Noin huffed at him just as she had huffed at Jormund. Dawl, it seemed, didn’t need the lecture. “Y-Yes, ma’am,” he coughed.

The Master Hunter turned to Guin with a slight bow, then, from a sack, he pulled out a fine, light orange pelt, a perfect snow-white circle on its back, and handed it to her.

“This...” Guin reached out and took it gingerly, searching his eyes for answers.

“Return it,” Dawl said. “That is all I ask.”

Gripping the fur, she smiled. “Thank you.”

“No,” he told her in a low voice. “Thank you.” Dawl looked up to Pastor Jormund and then looked back to Guin. “You have heard everything, then? And you still intend to try?”

“Yes,” Guin confirmed with determination.

He snorted at her. “You are a stupid girl,” he said, then put his hand on her head. “I shall wish you all the luck.”

“What will you do?” she asked him.

Dawl looked at her in surprise. “Me?” When Guin nudged her head toward Jormund, he chuckled. “Who knows? Perhaps it is time to tend to old wounds.”

“Try not to fight,” Guin told the men. Jormund gave a meek smile while Dawl grunted. “Then, I shall be going! Mrs. Noin, thank you so much for having me again!”

“Leaving so soon?” Mrs. Noin stepped over. “But Euen just got here—Oh, never mind. You have things to do, I know. My husband was always the same way. Here,” the old woman took a shawl from the back of her chair and wrapped it around Guin’s neck. “Stay warm. Stay safe. My husband would have liked you.” The old woman put her hand on Guin’s face. Her skin was rough, but it felt nice.

“Uhn!” went Guin with a smile.

“Take care,” Pastor Jormund told her, his voice a little rough.

Guin nodded to him and left them to have their talk. As soon as she left the cottage, she pulled up her map to set a marker, and a fox formed. About half an hour later, she found herself back on the edge of the corruption.

Pulling up her map again, she frowned. It’s gotten bigger... she noticed. Not only that, but it looked like the number of corrupted creatures had increased.

“Liorax?” she called.

The lazy cat appeared floating around her head. “I saw the hunter came through as you hoped,” he said. “He was a useful creature, after all.”

Nodding, Guin smiled. She wasn’t sure if trusting The Master Hunter would get her anywhere, but it made her happy to see Euen and Jormund together in Alta Noin’s cottage. “Hey, you aren’t affected by the corruption, are you?” She hadn’t thought about it until Jormund gave her the [Spirits’ Tears].

“To be affected, you have to be in the area for quite a while,” he told her. “Besides, now that you have that pouch the lying priest gave you, it shouldn’t affect either of us in the slightest. If anything, I’d be worried about the little fox—though I suspect his mother will protect him.”

“Leave poor Pastor Jormund alone,” she scolded. “You didn’t know he could see you, did you?”

The floating cat grinned. “Perhaps. Perhaps not.”

“Tsk. Whatever. Buff me?”

As Liorax became a sensory buff, Guin shot off, slaying as many of the corrupted creatures as they could in the moonlight and sticky terrain. Guin had to learn quite a few new ways to battle them as the ground started to become softer and more slippery as they got closer to the cave.

Then something else caught her eye.

Stopping dead in her tracks, it felt like her chest was being crushed. A flurry of emotions bubbled up inside of her as she looked over the rotted, corrupted landscape covered in traps and dead things.

One of those was the trapped, broken body of a small, creamsicle-colored fox cub.