The first place Clover takes me to is a small bar built into one of the gigantic trees, the windows are circles carved out of the bark. Crosses made of thin branches fits perfectly in the holes and a warm, yellow light comes from the inside. Around the tree sits a platform of wood, and the only way of getting here is by climbing rickety wooden stairs that circles the tree trunk.

I stand next to the fence made of branches and twigs. We are almost all the way up the hill, the creatures that wander the log-path seem much smaller from here. Most of them are holding their lanterns, while some are floating in the air. It looks like a train of light from the tree's first floor.

"If we had been a little earlier, we could have arrived before it got dark," he says like it would have been something bad that it was already evening.

"No, this is perfect."

He doesn't question me; he might already have figured out why I prefer the evening and darkness over the day and light.

"Shall we?" He asks and points at the round door. A lantern hangs above and lights up a raven carved into the surface.

I put the train of light into my memories, how it looks like and how beautiful and magical it seems from where I'm standing. Once I'm sure I'll remember it, I step into the bar with Clover. Only a few soul wanderers sit at the tables. There are more creatures here, they're laughing and talking, some raise their mugs that looks like tree trunks. They sweep it all down in a few gulps.

"Clover!" a creature shouts behind the bar.

It extends both of its fat arms and Clover smiles larger than I've ever seen him smile. The creature looks like a troll from Scandinavian folklore, but a tad more toadlike. It's covered in warts and the color of its skin is greyish brown. From the round head hangs thin white hair and moss grows upon the large arms, as well as bark on the toadlike hands.

"Mort!" Clover says and shakes the creature's hand eagerly.

I've never heard a creature's name before, and the two I had talked to had been unpleasant meetings. It feels like we're living in two completely different worlds – like I shouldn't even talk to them. But no matter how you look at it, this Mort is Clover's friend.

Clover sits down at one of the barstools.

"We haven't seen you in almost a week," a woman says. You'd believe she was a human if it wasn't for her green skin and the moss that grows upon her neck. "He was worried for you."

She makes a head gesture towards Mort.

"I've been busy."

I sit down at the barstool and for the first time I feel shy in front of these creatures. I had a tendency to ignore them, but this was different. Mort turns his large head. His eyes are fully black, he doesn't need any pupils or irises for me to know that he's staring right at me.

"Who is this friend of yours?" Mort asks and points at me with one of the bark-coated fingers.

Clover turns to me and waits, like he's expecting me to introduce myself.

"Uh, Orchid," I eventually say.

Mort widens his black eyes and leans closer to Clover. "Wasn't that your new apprentice?"

Clover nods with a tense smile. Mort laughs so loud it feels like the whole bar is shaking. He pushes Clover's chest with one of his toadlike hands.

"Was it her who you complained so much about?"

"You complained about me?"

I raise my eyebrows with an amused smile.

"You did ask a lot of questions," Clover answers.

The woman takes a few steps forward, it makes Mort back away slightly to let her pass by.

"The fact that he took you here means he likes you, no matter how much he complains. You must have done something right." She smiles and reaches out a green hand covered in moss. "Moria."

I shake her hand.

"Clover is bad at that friendship thing. Consider yourself lucky you were able to knock down that wall of his," Mort adds.

Clover rolls his eyes.

"Is it your first time here?" Moria asks and take a step back to let Mort go back to his previous spot.

"Yeah, even the first time I visit another world than mine."

"Well then!" Mort extends his arms. "Welcome to the Oak and the Viking."

"The Viking?" I ask.

"The name of this bar," Moria says.

It fascinates me, why they decided to name this bar after Vikings. I cannot associate anything here with it. It fits with the rest of the Oak, where everything seems to have a forest theme. There is no difference in here. On its walls grows branches and moss. The barstools look like elongated tree stumps with vines growing on top of the bark.

"It's not named after Vikings, Orchid," Clover says.

"Okay, so what is the Viking then?"

"An old soul wanderer." Moria leans against a wall behind the bar, right next to a door leading into another room. "He died at the Viking era, as a Viking. Most soul wanderers from that time hasn't existed in centuries. He was one of those who were left. Soul wanderers started calling him the Viking, the nickname stuck for us beings as well."

"He was a good man, and quite the drinker too. He helped us build the inside of the bar, so it was given that we'd name the bar after him," Mort says and smiles.

Moria caresses the moss over the back of her hand, and a small yet comforting smile lays on her lips.

Clover smiles too, yet sadder than the other two.

"Did you know him?" I ask him.

"Yes, I've mentioned him before. The Raven was his name."

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The man that held Clover's apprenticeship. Every time he had brought him up it had always been in past tense.

"What happened to him?"

Clover tenses up and looks down at his hands above the bar counter.

"He left us, as all soul wanderers do eventually," Moria adds.

"What do you mean?"

"A soul wanderer is not in service forever, often two-hundred or three-hundred years. It is always a choice, but most cannot last for more than a few hundreds of years. When a soul wanderer has been in service for at least two hundred years they can give their soul to a guardian that brings it to the hall of souls, where a large funeral is held to thank them for their service. Or that was how the Raven described it when he said he would accept Vrana's proposition," Mort says.

"Wait, Vrana's proposition?" I ask.

"Vrana was the Raven's guardian. Every soul wanderer gets an offer or proposition, whatever you want to call it, once we have reached our two-hundred year. We can say no, which the Raven did for many years, but fifty years ago he decided to accept the offer," Clover says.

Mort shakes his gigantic, round head so the thin hair sways back and forth. "I never understood why he accepted it; it went against everything he had said. But no matter what I said, nor how much we pleaded, he was firm in his decision. I usually don't attend a soul wanderers funeral, but that day I did. I'd do it thousands of times for him."

Once the silence settles between us, the bar is filled with the other creatures' conversations. They seem to have no desire to listen in on ours and focuses entirely on their own.

"Gee! This mood I don't like," Mort says.

Clover looks at him warily.

"Get them both a Viking's Wrath!" Mort says to Moria with a large, almost goofy smile.

"Uh, no. You're not giving Orchid that crap," Clover protests.

"Is it Alcohol?" I ask.

Moria takes down two mugs from one of the shelves. It's the same kind that most creatures are drinking from – those that looks like tree trunks.

"You could say that," Mort says with a grin.

"Mort... Don't."

I scoff. "What do you think of me? That I cannot hold my liquor?"

"Have you forgotten you're dead?"

"No, if you haven't noticed that little detail is kind of hard to forget."

Clover pushes a coal-coated hand over his face, for a while I think he'll groan out of annoyance.

"It's not the same as alcohol," he says each word slowly and clearly, like he was talking to a child.

"You're saying I'm going to blackout?"

"More than that. If you truly want to try it, then you should start with something else at first."

Moria approaches us with two empty mugs in each hand. "Do you want Viking's Wrath or not?"

"Give us a Frigg," Clover answers.

"You're boring," I protest while glaring at him.

He leans closer. "You'll thank me once you actually try Viking's Wrath that I didn't let you drink it now. Besides, Frigg is no weak drink either. But it won't make you wake up in another world without your gate stone."

He leans back again.

"Cause that's the worst thing that can happen," I say and stick out my tongue at him; he answers it with a scoff, but a slight smile is still visible.

I'm not sure what makes me act so childish and playful, maybe it's the feeling of being in a bar again. That it's funny to banter with him, and that he banters back. For the first time in a long time, I feel happy.

"Frigg it is," Moria says and walks out the door behind the counter.

I wonder how they make the drinks, if it works differently from the living world.

"I guess you're done with the apprenticeship since you're here, Orchid," Mort says.

"Mm-hmm, I finished it today, actually."

"What area did Blomst put you in?" he asks and pulls a piece of cloth over the bar counter.

Clover's eyes follow the motion of Mort's hand, he reminds me a little of a cat.

"Health and sickness."

"I think that will fit you," Clover says, eyes still on the piece of cloth.

"That's what Cerberus said."

"Cerberus?"

He looks up at me.

"Mm-hmm, or that's what Blomst told me he had said."

Clover chuckles. "I can imagine Blomst wasn't very happy about that. Guardians tend to be possessive."

I see it more as a power play. I think the love she has for Clover is real, otherwise she wouldn't have cried for him when he was bedridden after he had fallen – or thrown himself – into the well. That doesn't mean that her love is healthy.

"You could say that."

Moria comes back from the other room behind the bar counter. She carries two mugs, and the colorful foam is a few centimeters above the edge. She places them in front of us.

"Here you go," she says and wipes her finger over the brown apron.

We thank her and Clover raises his mug, cheering them, before he takes a sip of the drink.

The colorful foam reminds me of the evening-sky, just when the sun is going down and colors of pink and orange covers the sky.

"You're not going to taste it? Was it all talk about taking on Viking's Wrath?" Clover says with a grin as he takes another sip.

I glare at him, but he just laughs. I finally take a sip of the drink, like the dango-looking food I don't expect it to taste anything. Not only does my entire mouth tickle, but it also has a strong taste. And it's good, sweeter than I had imagined and something I've never tasted before. It doesn't taste like alcohol at all.

"Oh!" I place the mug on the counter and hold a hand over my mouth. "It tastes."

"Of course it does," Clover says and takes another sip of the drink.

"All drinks were made by me and the Viking. He also named them after himself or his religion," Moria says and pulls a hand through her straight, brown hair. "He wanted all the drinks to be for both beings and soul wanderers. I cannot taste them, but I can feel the feeling of them. Maybe not exactly the way you do."

"And I'm here to be the handsome bar owner," Mort says and winks.

"He's here because he's better with people than I am," she corrects him. "I don't have the patience for drunk idiots, whether they are beings, soul wanderers or guardians."

I take another sip of the drink. My entire body feels warm, and the tickling feeling moves down my throat, towards my chest and stomach.

"Guardians come here?" I ask.

"Sometimes. Most of the time it's just Vrana and Liria, sometimes we see First. He's such an arrogant fool that every time I see his pale face, I want to throw him out. Blomst and Couleur haven't been here in many years."

"What about Cerberus?" I ask. There's no point in asking of Saturn, I have a hard time imagining him at a bar even though I know he's much older than he looks.

Moria shrugs. "I've never seen him before."

I take another sip. I can feel it all the way to my fingers. The room is lighter, and Moria and Mort are shining. Not in the same way that the living humans are, but more of a beautiful white light. Even Clover looks different. He's not shining, but he's gleaming. Like tiny particles of diamonds covers his skin and clothes. I slowly move my hands to my cheeks, as usual I cannot feel my skin, but I can feel the pleasant heat. I smile as it tickles and warms my fingers.

"It seems to have taken an effect on you," Mort says and laughs, even Moria smiles.

I answer by taking another sip of the fantastic drink; I enjoy the taste and the tickling feeling. The lanterns on the wall burn beautifully, it makes me wonder how the train of light I saw from this floor's view would look like now.

I down the rest of the drink and slam the mug down at the counter. Clover stares down his own mug with a small smile on his lips. He keeps gleaming brightly, like the lanterns at the wall. Like the train of light.

I want to see it.

"Hurry! Down it!" I say a little louder than I had planned.

He looks up at me, still smiling. "Why?"

He doesn't seem as intoxicated by the drink, or he's just good at pretending.

"I want to see the train of light."

"The train of what?" Mort asks.

Clover turns his attention to his large toadlike friend. "I think she means the beings that wander up and down the pathway with their lanterns."

He downs the rest of the drink, then places the mug on the counter. He searches one of his torn pockets.

"Oh, no, you don't have to pay," Mort says.

Clover frowns. "Of course I have to."

Mort shakes his head so his white hair sways, it looks like stars are falling from it. "No, see it as a thank you for a pleasant conversation. Now then, the train of light will soon end."

Clover gives him a pleading look, but Mort straightens his back and brings his round head up.

"Thank you," Clover says, but he sounds more bothered than thankful. "Come on, the train of light awaits."

I follow him to the door, but before we leave Moria sighs and says, "your pleasant conversations are going to make us bankrupt." But Mort just laughs.

I forget to breathe once I see the beautiful train of light. Everything is shining and gleaming, like a dragon made of fire is slowly moving its way up the long, steep hill.

It feels like an eternity to descend the long rickety wooden stairs, I focus on the beautiful train of light while Clover leads me down. He's still gleaming like he had done in the bar, and the other soul wanderers we pass gleam in the same fashion. The creatures shine like Moria and Mort.

Clover leads me straight into the train of light. Once inside I run down the pathway and dance around the creatures and their fiery lanterns. Clover shouts something about being careful, but I don't see the point. If I fall it's not like it's going to hurt.

It feels like I'll catch on fire from this heat inside of me. I run down the pathway, completely free from any concerns or insecure thoughts.