White sage released its earthy fragrance with the tapping and swirling of a mortar and pestle. Its dry leaves gave a light, airy crunch against the green marble. Hours had passed. Ardmy’s hands stiffened and ached, having spent the meager remnants of his healing magic on Julien – though he’d surprised himself with how much further he managed to extend his limits. The former man-pig lay fast asleep on a tattered blanket, and the peculiar condition of Deventh still remained a mystery.

The Gildvar hummed a soothing tune to himself. He sat cross-legged on the floor, trying not to look at the crystalline walls around him. What awe and wonder the sight invoked earlier had been poisoned with revulsion. It made his stomach turn.

A clump of ginger hair fell in front of his eyes, taunting him no matter how many times he swiped it away. Lips drawn with frustration, he closed his eyes. Seconds later, footsteps neared. He startled, watching as Deventh approached.

“What was that?” Ardmy asked, scrambling to his feet. His brows scrunched together as he stared him directly in the eyes.

“What was what?” asked Deventh, looking back over his shoulder.

“No, not – I meant…” Ardmy shook his head, gathering his thoughts. By Deventh’s expression, he figured that his confusion may have been just as genuine as his own. “I meant you. For hours now.”

Deventh said nothing as he reached into his pocket. He held his timekeeping device in his palm, its brass chain trailing between his fingers. Its rhythmic ticking filled the air as he observed it for a duration that grew somewhat disconcerting. Meeting Ardmy’s expectant gaze, he clicked the device shut.

“It’s past midnight.”

Ardmy’s mouth hung open as he blinked in disbelief. He reached forward and placed both hands on Deventh’s shoulders.

“Are you all right?” he asked, giving him a slight shake. His voice was thin and frantic. Deventh took a step back, waving his hands away.

“Yes, just a bit disoriented.” A splitting ache jolted through his head. He pinched the upper bridge of his nose, stifling his reaction somewhat to avoid raising further concern.“Can I ask you something?”

“Yes, I suppose.”

“What was I doing?”

“You were standing like a statue. Unresponsive. Hard to tell whether you were even breathing.”

The pain in Deventh’s head diminished. Bringing a thumb and forefinger to his chin, he let out a low hum.

“So that’s what happens,” he remarked, hushed and contemplated.

Ardmy’s frantic demeanor subsided. His shoulders fell forward as he released his tension with a deep exhale.

“Deventh, what is going on?”

Rustling and coughing interrupted their conversation. They looked to Julien, who let out an exaggerated, vocal yawn as he stretched his arms over his head and sat up. The two elves exchanged glances – they would finish discussing later.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt so rested. Am I dead?” the Nelthrin asked, pinching a section of skin on his own arm. He flinched in pain, disproving his suspicion.

“Likely an effect of the healing spells,” Ardmy said. “How is your leg?”

Julien lifted his leg and rotated his foot. A fresh bandage took the place of the torn cloth from before. The pain had dulled, but the raw flesh burned with friction.

“Seems better.”

“And your skull?”

The Nelthrin rapped his knuckles against the top of his head. Under the hypnosis of the dourlings, he’d done a great deal of headbutting, but he remembered little of it.

“Feels fine,” he said. “You did all this? Impressive work. I ought to compensate you for—” Ardmy raised a hand, stopping him from finishing his thought.

“Please, I ask for nothing but for you to rest and continue healing so my efforts don’t go to waste. That said…” He spun on his heels and faced Deventh. “Can we please get out of here?”

“Aye,” the Dronvar replied. “But there is still one more thing I need to do before we leave the grove entirely.”

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Ardmy groaned as he recalled the reason his friend had entered the grove in the first place. However dangerous he previously imagined the task of retrieving the boar’s tusk to be, it had become negligible in comparison to falling under the effects of dourling spells. Still, the idea of staying any longer irked him no less.

“Right,” he said. A curious Julien glanced between the two, unsure of whether it would be unseemly to ask any questions. Ardmy looked down at him and extended a hand.

“You should be able to walk,” he said. “But let’s make sure of it first.”

The Nelthrin agreed with a nod before accepting his helping hand. The strength of his grip and the softness of his palm left him feeling weightless as he was lifted to his feet. Easing the wobbling in his legs, Julien took a few steps.

“How is that? Any pain?” asked Ardmy. Julien shook his head.

“None at all. Those hands of yours could mend a broken heart,” he said with a wink.

“Y-yes, well,” Ardmy said, clearing his throat. “It’s good to see that you’re feeling better.”

The Gildvar observed as Julien continued walking in a circle, stretching his arms and twisting his torso. Pleased to see the results of his work, he smiled while picking the blanket up from the floor. After folding and rolling it into a tight cylinder, he opened his bag and located a spare set of plain clothes, shoes, and a woolen cloak which he kept for his patients.

“Here, you’ll need these,” he said, tossing the items to the unkempt and shirtless Julien. He stuffed the blanket into the vacant space of his bag while the Nelthrin dressed himself. The beige linen shirt hung like a sack from his undernourished body, but it would suffice for the time being.

“I’m ready,” Julien said as he hopped into his second shoe. The three moved out, looking back not once at the sparkling crystals.

The colorful luminescence of the plants along the cavern walls seemed dimmer, less mystic, and somewhat uncanny as they continued on. No endless tunnels nor repeating rooms taunted them any longer. Past the curtains of vines they stepped, through the narrowing walls they squeezed, and by the glow of blue mushrooms they traced their way out in a mercifully short time. Pir and Zendine both doused the entrance to the cave in silver and purple. Julien was the first to step forward and immerse himself in it, touched with whimsy among the striped snow lilies.

“It’s been quite some time since I last saw the moonlight,” he said, his palms upturned as he stared in wonder at the sky. “Or the sun, for that—what is that?” A startle brought his moment of glee to an abrupt end as he caught sight – and smell – of something to his left. He grimaced, pointing to the sign with the boar’s head on its post. It must have become warm enough earlier for it to thaw, for rot to progress. Its flesh drooped in a grotesque manner, revealing the shape of the skull and sinking into the eye sockets. Its jaw hung open to reveal a dangling tongue.

“Ah, that thing,” Ardmy said as he and Deventh stepped out of the cave. “I’m almost happy to see it again.”

“As am I,” Deventh said, taking a knife from his belt and reaching up to cut through the softened gums of the beastly head. With the occasional scrape of metal against bone, he loosened a tusk, finding himself grateful he wouldn’t need to kill a boar for such a small piece – he had no means to haul an entire carcass home to avoid waste.

“Well, that was easy enough,” said Ardmy, observing as Deventh collected the tusk and stowed it away. He’d anticipated a longer stay, but was glad to be proven wrong. Once finished, he turned around to face the other two. They nodded in unison, taking the moment of pause to collect themselves. The night was still and quiet, save for a few isolated winds and animals scurrying through the bushes.

“Where are you headed?” Deventh asked Julien as they moved out, proceeding past the clusters of flowers.

“Well, I was headed back to Kho’gul after doing some work in Ravengarde,” the Nelthrin answered. “Didn’t expect to be kidnapped and transported to the middle of nowhere, though.”

“Kidnapped and—” Deventh remembered at that moment why his name sounded familiar. “Julien Montrose. You were one of the reported missing.”

“Ah, grandmama must have been worried for me. She gets herself caught up in all sorts of gossip about town. I did say I’d be back in a week. Normally I keep to my word,” said Julien. Shadows fell over him as he followed them into the glade. Moonbeams shone through the cover of trees and sketched a path forward. Melted snow dampened the ground, leaving it smooth and slippery. Patches of grass tore and uprooted beneath their steps.

“You were transported somewhere?” asked Deventh.

“Yes. Me and numerous others. We were held captive in some ruins in the Uminoran forest. Towards the northern coast, I believe. Those of us who weren’t too battered tried to escape. Of those…” His gaze trailed down as he held his elbows and shrunk inward. “Few survived the initial escape. Those who did continued on, but it wasn’t long before we were attacked by raiders. Coward that I am, I was the only survivor. One among us who was lost in the latter incident was a skilled navigator. Without my sparse retention of his knowledge, I’d have never made it back.”

A gentle wind rustled the trees as he fell silent.A snowy owl took flight from the top of a spruce tree, sounding off with its haunting cries. The weight of guilt dropped in Julien’s stomach. Drawing in his cloak, he watched that his steps wouldn’t land him in soppy mud and soak his shoes. He felt he would start shivering any moment.

“That’s unfortunate to hear,” said Deventh. A rare flicker of emotion found its way into his words, whether he was aware of it or not. It took Ardmy by surprise that he did not thoughtlessly delve into further questioning.

“Maybe so, but it is done,” Julien concluded. Wresting a trace of lightheartedness among his lamenting, he managed a nervous chuckle for the sake of dispersing the cumbersome air. “You know, when I finally made it back to Ravengarde, someone told me there was a safe passage to the crossroads within the grove.”

“And you believed them?” Ardmy asked.

“I would never claim not to be naive,” Julien said. “I would say this was one of the most embarrassing lessons I’ve learned, but perhaps not the hardest.” He turned his head upward and watched the gaps in the canopy shimmering as he moved along. A smile spread across his face, banishing all unpleasant thoughts with an eagerness for the comfort of home. After all he had suffered, it was finally within reach.