George breathed in deep. Before him lay the road into Greenfield. They had gone past Agate Township, Hein concluding it had been taken over by the Alliance already, and made a beeline straight for the village. The first Eravatian village George got to see. He groaned.

‘Of all the times to return here, now might just be the worst of all… no Blitzer, no parents, the world’s lost its mind… what will we even find here?’

He glanced over his shoulder. The sign pointing eastwards towards Agate Township, and westwards towards locales such as ‘Klin’, ‘Mossy Township’ and ‘Poliwag’s Bend’ looked soggy and old, one bad storm away from falling over. It didn’t look healthy months ago either, but the sun had brightened things up back then. Now, with the sky being nothing except shades of grey and purple, everything sucked.

“So. Remember what I said,” Hein spoke, folding his arms with a glow pulsing through his armbands. “We are in, then out. Retrieve what we need from the old café. That is all.”

Terez nodded. “I will watch our backs. The rot shouldn’t have spread to Greenfield yet, but there’s no such thing as too certain these days.” She fixed up her hair, then snapped her fingers. George’s psychic senses tingled in response.

‘Some kind of search…’

The Dusknoir turned his eye onto George. “So. Do not head up the hill. Believe us, it is more for your sake than either of ours. I shan’t elaborate again.”

The Dewott clicked his tongue. “Of course… I’m not deaf.”

“Then let us go.”

Hein led the way down the road, into the village George and him once called home. Whether Hein actually ‘lived’ in Greenfield, George didn’t know. What he did know is that his expectations weren’t high. His stomach churned at the thought of what he’d see once they had walked down that road, past the narrow strip of forest separating the village from the main road.

Alas, George winced as he laid eyes on ‘home’ for the first time in months.

‘Oh my god…’

All the colours had been drained out of the village. From the fields, which were messy with various sprouts popping out the dirt, to the soggy wooden shacks which were worse for wear. Several walls had splintered or cracked where they shouldn’t have. The gravel path was overgrown in places. The stream he, Blitzer and the other children played in had flooded its banks.

And it was quiet. Dead silent. Sure, Greenfield wasn’t the liveliest place, but at worst it was sleepy. Not a cemetary’s kind of quiet. George clenched a fist, his breathing intensifying as they neared the central part of town. ‘Gareda… and her lackeys… Soldiers… it can’t have been the Alliance. It can’t. It’s too early for that…’

Memories of that fateful day came rushing back. Him and Blitzer on the hill, scratching words into the dirt with sticks. Soldiers marching into the village, eyes locked with George the second they could see each other. Hiding indoors, Nero and Nera holding the Soldiers off whilst George and Blitzer fled…

It didn’t take long for tears to flow. Months had passed, yet being here again made it feel like yesterday. Ears flat against his head, fists clenched, teeth gritted; George turned away from Hein and Terez. Why should they have to see him like this?

“How quaint. They boarded the old café up,” Hein droned on. George pretended not to hear it.

“The Soldiers, I take it?” Terez asked, to which Hein shrugged in response, his ectoplasm wavering back and forth.

“Soldiers, or the locals. I was never a popular fellow around these parts.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised. You make the worst first impressions I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen a lot.”

“Glad to know you’re a fan as well.” Hein drummed his fingers on the boards covering the entrance. “Allow me to phase through. I will see if they left any presents inside. Fortunately for us, the chance they’ll have found it is slim. It takes a ghost to think like a ghost, after all.”

Terez rolled her eyes. “You better not be joking. Last thing we need is more trouble.”

As the two bickered, George had quite enough of their voices. Greenfield wasn’t getting any easier. All the joy had vanished from the village, and not just because of memories or appearances. Not a soul had shown themselves yet. No one so much as peeked out of their window to see who had come. It’s as if the village had been deserted.

One house for certain had been deserted. George squeezed his eyes after looking up the hill for a second. What would even be there now? Would the house be there still? Would it have caved in? Has it been ransacked?

Emotions had a way of their own, in spite of warnings. George shuffled away from the square, and up the hill. He had to know what happened. He had to know what became of home… even if shadows darker than those in the sky were cast on the answer.

He got halfway up the hill, before his legs were stopped dead in his tracks. George’s psychic senses flared red hot. He sighed; moments later, Terez grabbed him by the arm.

“Where are you going?”

George groaned. “Up the hill. To the old house… I just wanted to see it again.”

“But you know you won’t find anything good up there,” Terez replied. “Only misery.”

“I know that. It’s just…” The Dewott shook his head, then wiped a tear out of his eye. “I can’t let it all go. I just can’t…”

Terez’ hand moved to George’s shoulder, the Dewott lowering his head in response. “It’s no use, George. What happened in the past has happened. Preserve the memories for what they’re worth… don’t sink into the quagmire of the past. Use it to build a better tomorrow.”

George looked away, Terez’ words of reassurement doing little to heal. Whenever life got better, fate had a habit of pulling the rug out from under him. First he had nothing but Blitzer left. Now, even Blitzer was gone. Even the sky was gone. What were the odds this time would end differently?

“How am I supposed to do that? Every time I’ve tried, the world only falls apart further around me,” the Dewott muttered. “Just look up. What makes you think it gets any better now?”

“Listen, I-” Terez choked on her words, covering her mouth with her other hand. “Deep breaths, deep breaths. You have us, remember?”

“Do I?”

“Of course,” the Gardevoir replied, her fingers digging into George’s fur. She got onto a knee, then directed the Dewott’s eyes straight into hers. “This isn’t helping, George. And this isn’t easy, we know. But what is sulking over it going to do? Magically fix your problems?”

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George swallowed. “Certainly won’t make ‘em worse…”

Terez scowled at him. “Would you prefer we leave you with the Corrupted?”

He reflexively frowned at her, his fists clenching again. “Is that a threat?” he said with a hoarse voice, one hand dangling over a scalchop for a split second, before he changed his mind. ‘I shouldn’t have said that.’

“Of course it isn’t,” said Terez, slapping George’s cheek. “Get a grip. Life is what you make of it. The light at the end of the tunnel always exists. Call it chasing a mirage, call it common sense, it doesn’t matter. Don’t stop believing in the good, George. And most importantly, don’t stop believing in yourself. Once you do, you’re just a dead man walking.”

In response, George sighed. “I’ll try.”

“Don’t ‘try’. Do.”

Sniffing and wiping his tears away, George followed Terez with the enthusiasm of someone sweeping leaves out their garden. He gazed up the hill one last time, before shaking his head.

‘I’ll be back there one day. And Blitzer will be there with me, I swear.’

Back in the square, Hein had ripped the wooden boards off his café, and scattered the debris. Floating in the door frame, he pressed his hands into his sides as Terez and George walked back into view. “Did we not agree to no detours?”

Terez shrugged. “It’s complicated.”

The Dusknoir echoed out a groan, then waved for them to come over. “I’ve investigated thoroughly. Needless to say, my predictions were accurate. They turned the place upside down and didn’t find it. Come on,” he said, before floating off into the building.

Inside, the once rustic café had been wrecked. Chairs and tables were strewn about, claw marks covering every square inch of ground, wall and furniture alike. Brown stains had dried into certain walls and furniture. George shot the place a passing glance.

‘Guess they didn’t like Hein, either.’

“Come along,” Hein continued out of sight. “Into the pantry with me. Fools never found it.”

George followed Terez into the old pantry, right behind the counter. He swallowed his pride before moving in; Hein had ordered him in there before, when this place was still ‘lively’, and the smell of fruit juices in various stages of fermentation permeated through the air. Disgusting, uncivil, but not empty.

‘Almost think he’d bring me here for more orders… he does outside enough as is, but… memories.’

Once in the pantry, George bit his tongue. The cupboards and barrels had been smashed to pieces, their contents staining the floor and rubble on top. The mats Hein had laid out long ago were nowhere to be seen. Stolen, perhaps, or rotten away. Whatever had transpired here, Hein now partially submerged through the floor, armbands and chest eyes glowing like streetlights come dusk. Solid boards were little more than a suggestion to him.

“And…. here… it is.” The Dusknoir pulled a small box out of the floor, then set it down before Terez’ feet. With a snap of his fingers, he flicked the lid open. Inside, two gems shone in the light coming off Hein’s body. Each was embedded inside a silver slab. There wasn’t a speck of dust on either one.

“We came all the way back here for… medals?” George asked.

Much to his chagrin, Hein raised a finger in front of his face.

“Not medals, lad. Badges. Identification. Me and Terez need to have these on us. You do not have one yet. You will get yours eventually.”

George raised an eyebrow at the prospect, folding his arms moments later. “You’re not telling me I need to join another shady organisation, do I? I’ve joined more than enough of them in my life. Way too many,” he said, his voice souring with every sentence.

“Join?” Hein scoffed. “Please, George. It isn’t as drastic as you make it sound. You're not forced to carry it at all, only when you want to identify yourself to the right people. Why do you think me and Terez have ours down here? We had… more pressing matters on hand, quite frankly.”

Terez rolled her eyes. “‘Pressing matters’ being infiltrating a cult that would cut my head off if they found out what I was up to,” she whispered into George’s ear, before standing back up. “Hein… is a man with strange motivations. Speaking of which, why did you keep them here, of all places? The one spot everyone would think to look for it.”

Hein nodded. “Think, yes. But that doesn’t mean they would be successful.”

“That’s not the point!” Terez shouted. “Just imagine the Corrupted had got their hands on it. What would you do then?”

The Dusknoir folded his arms, his eye narrowing. “And here I believed you had more faith in me, Terez. Of course it wasn’t just ‘buried’ here. I had taken certain ‘precautions’. Ones which would have had lethal consequences for anyone who found it.”

“So you boobytrapped it?” George stomped the ground. “You led me and Blitzer here multiple times! What if we triggered it by accident? Were you trying to get us killed?”

A long winded groan came from the Dusknoir, whose eye now loomed overhead. “Listen. My precautions are nothing short of immaculate. I would never do such a shoddy job that you, or anyone else I care for would end up hurt by them. The defences on this box wouldn’t trigger because you walked in here. You wouldn’t even know to dig so far down to find it, let alone know it was here. Quit the paranoia, George.”

George growled back at the Dusknoir, but Terez tugged on his arm before he could do anything more.

“Don’t make things worse, George. Say one thing for Hein, say he doesn’t stab people in the back. He wouldn’t have let you anywhere near that box if it wasn’t safe.” The Gardevoir shook her head. “More importantly , it’s absurd he’d leave it below this café to begin with. But leave giving him an earful to me. We need to focus,” she explained.

The Dewott sighed. “If you say so…” ‘Why’s he trying his hardest to make me dislike him, anyway… even Artanouk didn’t do that, and Artanouk’s part of a death cult, ugh.’

Hein swooped past, back to the entrance of the pantry. “Getting back on track here… these badges are for identification purposes. We certainly need them when we reach our destination. The Isle of Swords, off Eravate’s southwestern coast.”

“Isle of Swords?” George clicked his tongue. “Why there?” ‘What even is there?’

“Because you are going to need an awful lot more experience to brave this world,” Hein explained. “You’ve seen it for yourself. But I digress. Leave that explanation to when we actually reach the island. I’m sure you want to be somewhere without being followed, no?”

George mock coughed. “Not even a question.”

Grinning, Hein handed Terez her badge, then pressed his own straight into his body. The badge sunk into the Dusknoir’s ectoplasm, vanishing without a trace. And while George watched Hein pretend like this was the most normal thing in the world, Terez pinned her badge right above the horn protruding from her chest.

“Right… been a while since I wore this,” she mumbled while fitting it on. “But it’ll do.”

“Then it’s time we got going,” Hein said. “We have no more business here… though, we may need to watch our step on the way out.”

“Were we followed?”

“No. Locals. The corruption spreads fast, remember?”

“Of course. Anyone specific we should watch out for?”

“Not particularly, no.”

“Wait!”

As the Dusknoir went on to float out of the pantry, George called out to him. “Just… hang on a moment, because I don’t get it. I really don’t.”

Hein’s eye jilted up in its socket. “What is there not to get, George? I’ve explained what the badge is for, and where we are headed. The rest comes in due time.”

George’s ears went flat against his head. In truth, his decision to stop Hein was made from instinct. Eravate hadn’t been treating him easy since the day he arrived, yet things had sunk to new lows. At least back home, he knew what to expect, awful as it was. He’d hit rock bottom. Here? Rock bottom was nowhere in sight. He was like a voyager flying through space, biting his tongue the whole time.

“I just… I don’t know where we’re headed. Not in the literal sense. What even is our goal anymore? How do you even begin to set things right? Go to the island, and then what? Train? Learn more songs?” The Dewott flicked the two thirds of the Azure Flute around with a snap of his fingers. “How am I supposed to have faith in… all of this?”

He turned his back, his teeth chattering.

“It isn’t a question of faith,” Hein deadpanned. “Your life depends on action, George. The alternative is laying down in the mud and waiting for death. Is that an alternative?”

George tittered. “I’m going to end up dead either way, won’t I?”

Hein sighed. “Terez.”

The Gardevoir’s soft footsteps punched George square in the ears. As she kneeled, he squeezed his eyes shut. “Don’t bother,” the Dewott said, preempting her. “You’ve already told me it isn’t easy. I know it. I’m feeling it.”

“That isn’t the issue, George.”

He reeled as she seized his arm, with far more force in her grip than he expected.

“You’re not helping yourself here. This attitude only brings you more pain. The world keeps on spinning regardless of how dizzy you get, George. And your only options are to give up, or adapt.”

George squeezed his eyes shut. “How am I supposed to adapt? I swear to god, I’ve tried a million times already, and it doesn’t happen! There’s always something new getting in the way every time…”

Terez squeezed his arm. “Breathe. Focus on your breathing. Can you repeat after me?”

The Dewott took a deep breath. “Yes.”

“I’m not here. This isn’t happening.”

“I’m not here….” George said, trying to pay close attention to the rhythm of his lungs. “This isn’t happening. I’m not here…. This isn’t happening. I’m not here…”

It was faint, but repeating the phrase was somewhat calming. George repeated it for around a minute, before Hein spoke up again.

“This is all well and good, but we need to move. And fast. We’ve spent a bit too much time relieving the past, wouldn’t you agree?” he echoed, a hint of bitterness in his voice.

Both George and Terez groaned. “We have,” Terez said. “This won’t take much longer. Give it time.”

The Dusknoir brushed dust off his shoulder. “Hmph. You do not sound particularly enthusiastic. The same goes for the lad. Need I remind both of you that we’re far out of the weeds?”

“You’ve said it plenty,” Terez retorted. “We know. But let’s not argue about this. George? Are you ready to go?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” George mused.

“Good,” Hein said. “We should arrive on western shore in a few weeks’ time. Provided we throw the Corrupted off our scent.”

With Hein floating ahead, the trio left the Dusknoir’s old café, and made their way towards Greenfield’s entrance. On the way, George shot a glance at the old notice board that Lance would maintain. These days, it was rickety, and all the notes looked worn and torn. It was as much of a shadow as the rest of Greenfield was.

His heart heavy, George kept his eyes trained to the ground as they left, leaving the fate of Blitzer’s house in the dark. It was best not to know.

‘I’m not here. This isn’t happening.’