The flames of the fire flickered in the night. Jagged peaks struck the night sky. On one such peak, the moon seemed to tediously balance on its point. Light from the moon cast a faint glow through the mountains' ridges. Just enough light to see the mountains form yet keep the details hidden in obscurity. For years, Hirow had seen the Kings’ mountains as nothing more than a blur in the distance, but now they were much bigger than he could have imagined. Despite reading that the range contained six out of the eight tallest mountains in the world, nothing could have prepared him for their enormous presence.

Talia held her knees against her chest with one hand while she held a battered pan over the fire with the other. The smell of the crackling vegetables drifted to Hirow’s nostrils. She had slowly become more relaxed around him in the two weeks since leaving Grim’s village. Faint bruises were all that remained for Hirow from the encounter.

Talia shook the pan and set it on a flat-toped stone beside the fire. “When is Asahi going to be back? He’s been gone for hours.” She looked down into the pan that held a few miserable shriveled vegetables. The smell may have satisfied them, but the food certainly wouldn’t.

“It takes time to hunt. It’s not easy.” Hirow stretched his back against his backpack and yawned. “That's why I didn’t volunteer. I’m sure he’s much better at it anyways.”

Talia picked up one of the measly scraps of food, if she could even call it that, and gulped it down. She pushed the pan away and scrunched her face in disgust. A comfortable breeze rustled the sparse foliage around them and carried the smoky smell into the night.

Talia stretched out and gazed up into the night sky. “You know, the dark doesn’t scare me as much anymore.”

“I didn’t know you were scared of it in the first place.” Hirow snapped a stick in two and threw it into the fire. “What changed?”

“I think it was Amalia. She made me realize that I had light within me.” She lowered her head as her face reddened. “So, I know I’ll never really be in the dark. It’s a silly idea, isn’t it.”

“Not at all.”

“Really?” She perked up.

“I don’t believe everything that woman said, but she wasn’t an idiot. At the very least, her faith made her happy.” Hirow felt the heat of the fire ripple across his hands as he reached out. It had only been a little over a month since they began this journey, but that first night under the stars seemed to be a distant memory after all they had been through. There hadn’t been a night like it until now. Just him and Talia around a fire talking. For once, it strangely felt like a return to normalcy, even if what he saw as normal had lasted for such a short time. Perhaps it wasn’t normalcy he sought but comfort, a time where he could forget about past and future stresses.

“Do you think your fear of the dark is linked to your past?”

“Maybe.” She pulled her knees in closer and rested her chin on them. Whether it was the cold or the question she recoiled from Hirow wasn’t sure. After a moment of silence, she spoke again. “There’s something I haven’t told you. My name isn’t the only thing I remember.”

Hirow opened his mouth but caught his voice before it left his throat. So many questions filled his mind. Why was she hiding something from me? Does she not trust me? Yet he decided to shut out those thoughts and open his ears. His throat tightened again, wishing to speak, but he let Talia continue.

“Before I came here, there was a voice. A terrible, horrible voice. It told me things I didn’t want to hear.” Her voice began to shake until she steadied it with a deep breath. “It said I bear the lives of everyone I endanger and that the blood that runs through me curses me. Then, that voice told me that no one waits in the heavens. In the darkness, that thing cursed me.”

“Are those the curses you hope to atone for?”

She nodded and stared at him silently across the fire, the flames dancing in their eyes.

“I wish I had known sooner,” Hirow said. “Although I’m not sure how I would have taken it a month ago.” He pressed his fingers against the edge of the glass orb in his hands. “I saw you as a vessel for my curiosity, not a person. You may be a Stellapuer, but I’ve come to realize you’re no different from a human. I want to fix that notion I had of you. So let's make a promise.”

Talia pulled at the strands of hair in front of her shoulders and straightened her back. “A promise? You’ve made promises before. How can I trust this one?”

“Because this promise will be made from a foundation of trust between both of us.” He emphasized his last few words with earnest intent. “It will be a promise to make this journey together. Whatever burden you bear, I bear. When we first met, I told you I would help you find out who you are. I never could have imagined what we had gone through, and because of that, my belief in that promise faded. But now you’ve trusted me enough to tell me what you’ve been struggling with. So…” Hirow paused and lifted the orb of Ori’s essence. “Let us trust each other to uncover our own mysteries together.”

“Your soul would be brighter if Anna could see it now.”

Hirow nearly dropped the luminescent sphere in the fire from the words she spoke. Her kindness never ceased.

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” she mumbled. “It still wouldn’t match the glow of the Stellapuer’s soul.”

Hirow chuckled at her retort as he heard a thump beside him. Asahi wore an exhausted frown as he stood above several rabbits tied at their feet. “The wildlife’s sparse out here,” he grumbled. “Let's hurry and cook them. I’m hungry, tired, and cold.” Asahi knelt by the fire as Hirow took the rope that bound the lifeless animals.

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Unspoken words indicated that Asahi expected Hirow and Talia to do the prep work. Hirow pulled a knife from his backpack, sterilized it in the fire, let it cool, and began his prep work. Soon after Asahi had fully settled in, they had three rabbits skewered over the fire. Each piece of meat was perspired with its flavorful juices.

“We’re getting close,” Asahi said as he stared up at the looming mountains. “They shouldn’t be far.”

Hirow knew immediately who Asahi was talking about, yet that was what worried him. The revenge he had pulled them all into loomed ever closer.

“And with her luck, we’ll encounter the Darmarks any day.” The slur from the merchants had become common in Asahi’s vocabulary. The warrior glanced towards Talia and smiled. Hirow wished he hadn’t done that.

“How will you know which regiment came to Lumbuster?” Hirow knew the warrior hadn’t given the question a single thought, but it would need to be asked eventually. “The merchants, a few weeks ago, said there were several groups throughout Caulthwin. How will you know which one raided your village?"

Asahi furrowed his brow as if the question was absurd, yet all Hirow saw was a confounding look on his face. “I’ll question them before I kill them. That. . . that book,” he stumbled through his words, “You have. It must say something about their military rank and organization.”

“The History of Gladia? That old thing was published nearly a hundred years ago. Do you seriously think it would contain updated information on Obsidius’ military organization?” Hirow pushed his backpack further behind himself, almost taunting Asahi. Maybe, for once, I’ll get him to see what a stupid idea this is.

“They're all evil men. Whoever I have to kill to find out who came to my village is of no concern to me.”

An image of Asahi tearing through the bandits in Lumbuster flashed through Hirow’s mind. The wound on his thigh still ached. There was no point in asking useless questions if he was going to get pointless answers. “And what about me and Talia? Do you think you can protect us while you run head first towards the enemy?”

Asahi grabbed one of the skewers of meat and began picking through it. “Of course I can.” His quiet tone said otherwise. “The girl will bring them to me, and I can’t lose her until I’ve slaughtered my brother’s killers.” Bitting into juicy tendons, he let the meat sit in his mouth to savor the flavor. “And I suppose you go wherever she does.”

“Wouldn’t it be better if you’re not the only one that knows how to fight?”

Asahi laughed. “You get into one fight, and you think you can take on trained warriors.”

Hirow leveled his gaze at him and leaned forward. “I’m serious. I don’t want to fight. I want to avoid it at all costs, and I know I’m no good at it.” Asahi stopped chewing as Hirow’s stare intensified. “But if you intend to keep dragging us into battle. Let me protect her or at least give me a fighting chance.”

Asahi put the skewer of meat over the fire and sighed. “I,” he began but then rubbed his hand through his black hair as if trying to pull out some excuse. “I’ll train you. Just the basics though.” Hirow opened his mouth to begin asking questions, but Asahi cut in. “And I don’t know how long we have before we encounter more Obsidius soldiers. So I can’t promise how skilled you’ll be before then. I’ll train you, but I won’t wait for you.”

He’s still too narrow-minded, too stubborn, Hirow thought to himself. The urge to argue with Asahi’s terms welled up inside him, but he quelled his boiling thoughts. “Thank you. I assume we begin tomorrow.”

Asahi rotated the skewer of meat between his fingers and took it from the fire. “Yes, tomorrow. Now let me eat.”

Talia’s considering gaze rested between the two boys yet focused off into the deep night. The warmth of the fire sunk into her body and settled her mind. She let her thoughts float through the sea of comfort like ships passing unaware of the other.

“You good.”

Hirow’s voice shook her from her sea of tranquility. “Yes. I’m fine.” The stars seemed brighter tonight. “It’s just good to know that maybe things will be alright.”

“Maybe they will.” Hirow reached out, grabbed the two remaining rabbits, and offered one to Talia. “Let's eat and enjoy the rest of the night.”

She nodded and eagerly took the meat. The smoke from the fire drifted up and into a placid void as the three of them ate their fill. After the meal, Asahi offered to take the first watch, and Hirow prepared his bedding. He settled the Orb of Ori’s essence near his head and drifted to sleep.

A girl with hair as white as Talia’s stood in the corner of a cabin. The edges of his view were fuzzy as if he were peeking through a small looking glass. Golden threads of light spun out from her hands until they formed a bird. Hirow couldn’t recognize the bird. He was never any good with identifying animals anyway. The harsh winter wind blew in from outside as a heavy door creaked open and quickly slammed closed.

“I’ve found another,” a woman’s voice breathlessly scattered through the cold air.

The young white-haired woman turned, and the whole house warped into a gray mist. Two white-haired children shivered in an ashen shack. Their eyes were wide with terror as they looked up at the middle-aged woman and her younger companion. The woman’s brown hair seemed familiar. Hirow had seen her before, but where he wondered.

“We saw an eternity of pain, and that eternity screamed at us.” The twins, shivering on the ground, spoke and shook Hirow’s vision. “It showed us our true nature.” The blizzard or perhaps another noise, as if water was rushing into his ears, drowned out their words. “To kill . . . entering that abyss of madness . . . this pitiful existence."

Any sound was swallowed up until he saw the warm cabin again. The two twins, who couldn’t be more than eight, were huddled in a corner. The brown-haired woman set a plate of food in front of them and sat down, crossing her legs. If he could only see her face. Hirow knew he could recognize her. She spoke. He could feel the vibrations of her voice through the air, but no words reached his ears. A tremor, like a deep sigh, sagged the air around him. If only he could get closer, yet whatever he did only made his mind constrict further inward. The women got up, and time began to blur by. The light grew and contracted throughout the cabin. Shadows consumed all and shrunk to dark corners. The food in front of the twins continuously changed, yet they remained still until their skin became thin.

The pale children drifted into memory as frozen tears clung to the woman's face. The white-haired girl clutched the woman as their cloaks whipped violently behind them. Piercing eyes, red from weeping, glared at Hirow. The sides of his vision constricted as the woman reached for him.

A sharp whisper cut through the air and passed into his ears. “Let my sorrows be a warning. This is not your fight.” Then everything was gone.

Hirow remembered; two nights before the star festival, he had seen her cry. Ashes in the wind and a little girl much younger than the one he had seen now. What did it all mean, he wondered, and why now? After nearly two months, why was he seeing her now?