Merry (early) Christmas!

What better way to celebrate this than with a double-chapter update? I've been so busy with college that when I noticed that this fic had over 1.7k views, I got really happy. I was inspired to finish up this and the next chapter to keep growing even more. Thank you for the reads, the faves, the reviews and the follows. I hope you enjoy this present!

~Kalafinn

The first thing that Rena saw when she opened her eyes was a wooden ceiling. It had seen better days for sure, but unlike the forests outside, she felt comfortably warm. The woollen blankets and the crackling fireplace reminded her of the vision she had had. She felt her eyes sting with the prelude of tears, but the poppies she had chewed dulled any sadness in her heart. It made her wish to sleep again, wake up when she could see that everyone was with her.

Then, she heard a bed creaking under someone's weight. The elf glanced to her right, where the sound had come from. She first saw a hammock where Aisha was asleep, her arms and right eye covered in bandages. On the bed below her, the elf saw Ain trying to get up, grunting as his clean bandages got stained with blood. His eyes lost and widened at an invisible foe he was ready to fight.

"Ain, don't move. You're hurting yourself," Rena said. She felt her mouth extremely dry and it made her voice croaky, "None of us are in position to move without making it worse for ourselves."

The priest frowned at her, but his trembling arms gave under his weight and he fell again over the bed. His emerald gaze filled with anger, staring at his bandaged fists, clenched as tightly as he gritted his teeth to drown a scream of pain. Rena tried to turn slightly to the side to look at him more attentively, but the effort awakened painful, burning needles over her right shoulder made her immediately stop. She should take her advice too. Yet, after seeing his panic transform into such seething anger at himself, Rena decided it would be better to talk with him now.

The elf could turn her head to the side, even that was painful, but much less so than shifting the weight of her body completely. The priest would probably not answer any questions about himself, but there were other things she wished to tell him.

"Thank you, Ain."

The anger in the priest's eyes faded momentarily away and he turned to look at her, puzzled, defeated, before staring at the hammock above him again. "I'm not the one you should be thanking. I failed."

"If you were right, we would not be here today.

" she paused, looking at the hammock above her. It should be Elsword's. Hopefully, he was recovering quicker than her. Had Ain not drawn that map at the cost of his own survival, their group would still be there and Lua would still be suffering under the Darkness. She looked at Ain again; he was covering his eyes with his hand, the other one clenched in a trembling fist, tense as his mouth mumbled some sort of prayer. It seemed to her to be his mantra to cast away the emotions that consumed him.

"Ain."

He suddenly froze, taking a deep breath, uncovering his eyes, but he did not even glance at her. "What is it?"

The details of their failed fight came back to her like a cascade. Ain was a spirit, she had seen him in his Celestial form, fighting against the Darkness that almost made the Ruben Forests die out centuries ago. He had risked much more than his life as a human to save her. He had risked his spiritual self and faced the terrifying Darkness without getting corrupted by it. It took a lot of courage to do things like that.

And sometimes, the bravest acts left the deepest scars of fears in one's mind; Rena had experienced it firsthand.

"Ain, you're much kinder and strong than I thought. Even if you think you didn't do much, what you did meant a lot to me. And I'm sure the others think so too."

The priest clicked his tongue and the frown that had soured his expression before returned, "That compliment would mean more for any mortal."

The elven woman slowly turned her head back to face the ceiling, frowning a little herself before her eyelids closed again, allowing her mind to rest before saying words that could become an unseen blade.

Luciela took the warm cup of tea Wilma had made for her and Ciel outside, sitting on the old, creaky wooden porch of the farmer's abode. The daylight was dying over the man-made clearing, big enough to hold wheat fields as far as she could see. Beyond that, there was the main road they had come from. She leaned back onto the wooden wall but grimaced in pain at the rough touch of the old wood over her back.

Her back still ached, but that pain was nothing compared to what the old woman had told her when she finally removed the bullets from her back. The bitter, old aroma of her cup was sweeter than her struggle to keep herself from cursing in demonic and blow her cover when they still needed help from the villagers.

Elsword, Aisha and Rena were still in a critical state, as for the self-proclaimed priest, Wilma herself said she was surprised he was still breathing. The winds were growing colder and rain often muddied the dirt roads they would have to take once everyone was back on their feet.

As long as snow did not fall, they had a chance to bring the El back. But the cost so far had proven to be too great. Would it be any different for the rest of the way? The demon countess doubted it. If on top of that, Berthe was assigned to finish Karis's headhunting, he would immediately notice what she had lost. Demons hunted traitors like vermin, but the true demons who lost their wings? They would humiliate them and kill them worse than vermin. One of the thrills of an executioner was to rip out their victim's wings and keep them as a trophy. Without that, it was as if they had hunted a nobody. No hitman liked that and they made their sour mood known to their targets.

She could have lost an arm or a leg and she would have adapted to it. But her wings? The one thing that separated her from the lowly mixed-bloods and the abominations resurrected through necromancy? That was something no demon of her rank could ever fully accept.

The door creaked open and Luciela glanced at her right to see Ciel walk out and sit next to her. His clothes hid the bandages around his chest, but the holes on his sleeves and pants let see through smaller bandages, healing cuts and old bruises. Though she could tell he had tried to comb his hair, it was too greasy to forget the shape of the pillow he had laid on the night before.

"Good morning," she said, smiling faintly. She had had too many dark thoughts to manage more than that. Her lack of sleep did not make things better, "You didn't get much rest either, huh?"

He shook his head and sat down next to her with a groan. The mercenary had small eyebags and he was beginning to grow a beard. Luciela thought he did not look bad with one, but Ciel hated to look older than his age. "Not at all. Hopefully, I can get a painless bath and get my clothes patched up tomorrow."

"You didn't find anything your size?"

"Nope. We're in the village of dwarves, apparently."

The demoness chuckled, "At least you won't run out of fabric to patch your clothes up."

"If I use it all, Ain and Rena will be in trouble once they wake up."

Luciela gulped down the rest of her tea before looking away from Ciel, "It'd be better for everyone if that priest never wakes up."

He stared at her, his eyebrows furrowed like he used to when he was puzzled. Most who did not know him would have mistaken his expression for indignation or anger, but knowing that he was not angry did not make her feel any better. He could not know why she thought that way, for his own good.

"Lu," he began, "I wanted to talk about something bizarre I realized back there."

She remained silent. Because of their contract, she instinctively knew that he wanted answers from her. It was almost a demand. He had even taken the care to speak in the Lanox dialect so prying ears would have a harder time understanding what he would say. She had no reason to lie to him, nor that she could. Their contract tied their souls, leaving very little room for hidden feelings.

She would listen to him and answer in the same dialect. Knowing that he had her word and her attention, Ciel continued.

"I know that people don't remember two contradictory things. Those who do are either insane or under some spell. One of the two's a fake one. I'd believe it was part of that place's curse, but if that's so, the false memory would've been gone by now, right?"

Luciela nodded, "Yes. You and I know such simple concepts about magic."

"You wouldn't put false memories in my head with the power you absorbed, would you?"

She put the empty cup aside and looked at him, a frown souring her face, "Even if I could, I would never do such a thing."

Ciel turned to look at the fields in front of them; he sighed, covering briefly his face with his hands before rubbing his temples. "Sorry. 'Twas the most obvious cause I could think of. It'd make sense given what you said."

Lu shook her head, "That's immoral, Ciel. I can't tell you what I know, but I'd never manipulate your mind to hide it. What exactly is troubling you?"

Ciel thought better out loud than on his own, especially when he had not rested well. They had until midday before Wilma and her sons came back from the fields. If there was a moment to talk about their next move, this was it. Luciela supposed that by now Ciel had figured that priest's shady tactics.

"It's a damn strange thing. When we were down there, that blood and those marks on the walls...I remembered that Rena got back with Ain. But before that exact moment, I would've sworn Rena came back alone."

Luciela looked back in front of her, looking at her legs. She still felt strange wearing the ragged grey dress Wilma had given her. It had once belonged to her daughter, just like the pyjama she gave to Aisha. Just as she feared, Ciel had also realized his mind too was toyed with by a Celestial. She would not go as far as to explain everything to him, but she'd give him the right direction to look at.

"Maybe it's not me, but the person missing from your second memory who put a spell on you."

Ciel stopped rubbing his temples, but his pensive frown grew deeper, "If a priest had learnt how to curse someone's mind, I would've known their name long before we made it here," he clenched his fist and rested his chin over his knuckles, "And it'd be pretty damn risky for a criminal to willingly hang out with an executioner. I can't enter a town without my insignia, so he would've known from the start what kind of mercenary I am."

Ciel suddenly turned towards her. "Suppose Ain is a Convicted Mage no one knew of. If I were him, I'd have no reason to follow a Steel Cross for so long, even if I wanted to confuse the Church. It'd be a good tactic to leave a town, but I'd make sure to disappear the moment I'm a two-day distance from the town's gates. Between here and Feita, there's a lotta land for a man to hide before a report gets filed in."

Lu knew that Ciel was correct based on what he knew. But the missing pieces were dangerous knowledge.

Ciel continued with his hypothesis, putting together the events he knew. The mercenary explained that Ain could have stolen their map at any point and go to another village further north. There were five, and all of them were so far apart that it would take weeks to find out which one he chose as a temporary hiding. Ciel shook his head, dismissing that first hypothesis. The Plague was a threat too great to make any trips as a lone traveller.

Luciela agreed but reminded him that he had not much better chances in a group, given what that rogue spirit did to them. She knew what Ain was, but it was just as important to know what he aimed for. Once they had figured that out, they would know how to avoid him before things turned sour.

He nodded and added that, given the situation, Ain could have made Rena tell him how to get out and leave her to die.

"But instead he made his wounds worse to give us a detailed map and a strategy to beat that spirit. Ain doesn't speak nor act like a stupid man. So, he has a reason to tag along with all of us….And most importantly, Lu, you lied about how you found the map."

Luciela nodded. "Yes. To protect you and those kids from getting involved with even more of them out to end us."

"So, he's someone you know."

"I do not know him personally. No more than you do. But Ain is the kind of person many of them, including myself, would like to see burning on a stake."

"Why? He gave us the key to get out."

Luciela grimaced, not wishing to bore him with the extensive history of the Demon Realm. Anyone born there understood why Celestials had to be hunted, every tale about them made them the perfect targets for hatred. Not a single demon ignored their history nor the curse Ishmael attempted time and time again to bring to their realm. This world had not known their dark deeds, or perhaps the shorter time humans had to live made the cruelty of Ishmael and her Celestials fade into oblivion.

There was, however, something she found to make Ciel understand her.

"I'm fairly certain that many of the Convicted Mages were good people for those who knew them personally," she began, glancing at Ciel. When she had mentioned his victims, there had always been a glimpse of guilt in his eyes, but not today.

It was the kind of reaction she would have when talking about the people she had to kill to protect herself. Was Ciel becoming more like her? He looked at her and she saw that faint guilt. She had imagined things, she thought to herself. Ciel's heart was still human and it should remain that way. She promised him that much.

"But all Convicted Mages did things that Elrios cannot and must not forgive. A very similar thing has made people like Ain hate people like me and vice versa," she concluded.

"You're at war with Ain's people, is that it?"

It was not quite an all-out war, she thought. Demons and Celestials had not seen eye to eye for centuries, but animosities were still very much there. Something pulled a string at her heart; it was the feeling Ciel was hiding something from her, his blue gaze was no longer deep in thought, but shining brightly in realization.

"Why are you hiding your thoughts?"

"I think you're looking at all this the wrong way, Lu. If Karis or her assassins catch our trace, we'd have better chances to fight them off together. Like I said, Ain might be one of the biggest douches I've met, but he's not stupid. He has no interest in being discovered as the common target of all demons. And assuming the secret gets out, he wouldn't let his feud with demons be above his own survival if it came down to it. He'd be, at the very least, forced to work with us. Earnestly."

Luciela could not understand why Ciel thought that way after the priest had barely treated them like people, "Why are you talking as if you knew that priest would not simply flee like we should the moment they show up?"

"He's had the chance to betray us countless times and hasn't done so. And do you think he can, on his own, fight the hordes of assassins that will come for him? Do you think that we, on our own, have a chance now that we have nowhere to go?"

Luciela looked down, her lips pursed. Of course, they could not. She and Ciel were already weakened no thanks to Lua, and their last haven was being destroyed by the absence of El. Their next lone fights would be their last ones, she understood that well. As for Ain, he stood even less chances to survive alone. Karis would not send assassins to kill a Celestial. No, the rest of the demon nobility would unite their armies around hers just to track him down and kill him. Even at the peak of his power, the Demon King himself would have lost against such an overwhelming force.

"Well, Lu?"

Lu frowned, her jaws clenched before a sigh managed to cool down her reaction at the uncomfortable truth: Ciel was right.

"None of us would stand a chance. But even if both of us and the priest remain, getting the rest involved will get them killed. I don't want a kid's blood on my hands."

"They've been involved since Berthe attacked. If they're after us, they know we care about them. We leave and who's to say they won't use 'em as hostages?"

He was right. Karis's assassins would stop at nothing to get her and Ciel, "You think I can protect them every time? I have not regained my former power, you know that. And I lost my wings."

Ciel poked her horn, startling her, "Ow! What was that for?"

"They don't hurt unless they're growing, don't they? You stopped Berthe and you're gaining back power as far as they can tell. And everyone else can get stronger as well, so it won't be like Resiam. I don't want to repeat that either."

Luciela took a deep breath, "You're not wrong, but I don't know if those kids and Rena can grow stronger fast enough. And I don't care what happens to Ain. By the way, did you have enough to pay the seamstress?"

Ciel squinted at her, disappointed by how Luciela had cut the conversation short. He had perhaps pushed it too far, but he had only wished to let her see that she did not have to let her hatred stop her from seeing how things were. Even now, he thought, he was far from being as wise as Verni.

"I barely had any ED left on me, but I managed to bargain with her. We'll get gloves and winter coats about two weeks from now. Maybe an old slide if the snow falls early."

The demoness clicked her tongue, "That's barely acceptable. Wilma doesn't have horses, do you know if any of the ten people here own one? If we repaired the cart, we'd manage to cut the trip from six days to three, perhaps less if the horse is young and fast."

The Steel Cross mercenary squinted his eyes, trying to remember if the seamstress had mentioned anything to him, but his mind was blank.

"I'll go ask around tomorrow," he said, getting up, "Who knows, maybe I won't need to bargain anymore once Ain teaches me his secrets."

Lu chuckled, "If we both go right now and ask him very politely, I'm sure we'll know how to swap real memories with fake ones in no time."

Ciel shook his head with a laugh, "What if he's still unconscious?"

She smirked, "Oh, that's not a problem. A good bath by the nearby frozen lake will wake him right up."

"Don't be so mean, Lu."

With a smirk, he patted her head, making her hair messier than it already was.

Ainchase dreamt again of a battlefield. He could not see who was fighting who, but he knew for certain that he was merely observing the battlefield as any celestial would: looking down from above. As the faceless troops in grey advanced, his apprehension grew. It was as if the troops in white and blue armours were more important to his goddess than their attackers. Like the other nights, he froze time in his dream to try and understand why it could be so. The goddess had given him all the knowledge he needed for his mission, yet there was no battle like this one. The more he forced his knowledge to make sense of what he was seeing, the more he lost control; the soldiers stopped fighting and looked up at him. He saw their faces. No, those were not faces. They were pits where darkness overflowed in menacing shapes.

Dark cubes with blue and teal lines drew closer to him, growing in size as their geometrical traits formed a single form: A looming emerald eye that became his sarcophagus. Ain took a step back, only to have his chest pierced by a painful cube of that darkness. He could not make a sound as the manifestation of dark energy slid slowly out of him, melting his inners with invisible flames. He coughed and looked up, reaching out weakly towards the sole light his blurry sight could see. The goddess was there, where the light was. It did not occur to him that the light he had reached for was the source of his terror until it drew closer.

There it was, the menacing emerald eye staring at him with its iris made of countless spirals. A line crossed it from side to side and it opened to reveal rows of putrid teeth that smelled just like the elven corpse he had fought against. Then, it spoke again to him:

'You will join us, Celestial.'

When the mouth-eye was about to swallow him whole, his eyes opened, darting left and right nervously for a couple of seconds. A bed above, Rena to his right, a wooden wall to his left and his bandages dampened by blood. He was breathing heavily, his heart beating to the rhythm of panic.

The Celestial's gaze lingered to his right, hoping to find Rena awake. He had forgotten his pride; the fear had awakened his pain and he still felt trapped between the eerie silence of his dream. He mentally wished that his arm could move again to reach her, but, unlike how easily it had been to get up last time, his whole body did not answer to his wishes. It was as if he was tied down to the hammock.

When Rena's head slowly shifted towards him, her clear, green eyes chased the panic away. Thank the goddess his hopes were not too high. Rena's eyes widened as she focused on him. Ainchase would have looked at himself to see just how much he was bleeding, but now that he could move, he felt incredibly cold, shivering under his covers.

"Ain, what happened?"

He noticed that his lips were frozen in a vague smile, probably from the moment he felt relieved, and he immediately erased off his face.

"Nothing. Just the wounds. They reopened again."

The elven woman shook slightly her head. For the few days, she had found the strength to shift on the bed on her own and take a few steps with the help of a cane.

"That's not normal. Ain, are you really-?"

"I'm not," he seethed, a shiver running down his spine, "in any sort of panic. It's just the pain."

She was taken aback by his reply, her gaze widening briefly before turning away from him.

"In any case, I'm calling someone to change your bandages."

"There's no need for-"

"Do you really think so? Look at yourself, Ain."

While her tone was still quiet, there was a hint of her motherly scolding hidden within it. He tried to move again, but it was again in vain. A shiver ran down his spine, but it reassured him. He tried again and, while he felt his body to be much heavier, he managed to lift his arms enough to look at the bandages that wrapped his arms until the palm of his hand. He could smell the blood and the balm's mixing in a foul smell. It stung.

He did not have the time to say anything before Rena was already hollering Wilma's name. Ain could faintly hear the rapid creaks and steps over the wooden corridor somewhere further down his feet. The leaps of silence in between were far too long to be from Wilma or her sons. It could only be one person. A demon who had no business with him. His fear burned into anger, strengthened by another succession of shivers that sent passing waves of heat throughout his body.

As Ainchase suspected, Ciel opened the door and walked in the small hall in-between Rena's bed and his.

"What's wrong?", the half-demon asked the elf, his back to him.

"Nothing, demon. Turn around and close the door."

Ciel turned around and his eyes widened, he took a step back, "How long have you been like this? Dear El...how are you still talking?"

"I'm alright. Just give me something to dull the pain, but not strong enough to put me to sleep."

The Steel Cross nodded and turned back to Rena, "I'll be right back."

And so he left in the same hurry he had come with. Ain stared at the elven woman.

"It doesn't matter how bad I get hurt in this form, you should know it. I don't need the bandages. I just need something for the pain."

"If you start walking like that, Ain, people will find it very suspicious. It's not my place to talk about where you come from, but I assume you'd prefer to not stand out."

"Natürlich."

He managed to smirk weakly, realizing that he had forgotten completely what he had set to do when he came here. Maybe it was because of this that the goddess did not want him to get involved with mortals. And he had forgotten that, just like he had forgotten momentarily that he only wanted to blend in enough to accomplish his mission. Fear was a terrible thing, and he was a pitiful Celestial.

"Natürlich. Ja, natürlich."

That is what made him chuckle as he felt the room get increasingly hotter. Ain did not even notice when he started shivering again, nor when Ciel came back until he lifted him to put clean bandages over him. Under normal circumstances, he would have pushed him away, but he felt burning and was shaking too much to do anything about it. Someone else, perhaps Aisha, got in and an ice blue spell drowned him in freezing cold. Some time passed, people stepped away, voices went away and then, complete silence. Silence and darkness.

Ainchase opened his eyes wide, wondering how much time had passed since he had woken up for the first time. He remembered vaguely his conversation with Rena, but some other details were foggy. The Celestial felt his mind clear and his pain to be much lower than what it had always been. It was almost as if he was completely healed.

He turned around towards where Rena's hammock was and saw that Ciel was soundly asleep, sitting down on a chair. His blue hair had grown longer, some white strands were growing over the tips of his hair, lit up by the distant moonlight. Ainchase sighed and tried to sleep again, but he could not. His dream was always the same. That darkness would come back and the night was already too oppressive for his taste. Clouds covered the sky and the moon was in its last quarter.

It was so dark, Ainchase feared that Henir's energy could somehow slip through it.

"Can't sleep either?" Rena's whisper chimed in.

"It doesn't matter. I can sleep during the day."

"You should get as much rest as you can, you know? You were delirious with fever a few hours ago. Aisha had to stay to cool you down for almost an hour."

Knowing that shocked him, but it made a lot of sense, given the gaps in his few memories from the moment he had awakened from his nightmare to this moment, "I see."

"Then, try to close your eyes and sleep, alright?"

He frowned, lowering his gaze for a minute, silently clicking his tongue, battling between his pride, his emotions and his reasoning before answering her.

"I...should not do that now. Not when it's this dark."

"Why?"

"It's just too dark. I can't relax."

It was embarrassing, he knew it. Ainchase expected her to laugh at him and turn around, but instead, her shadow seemed to nod. All elves knew very well how to sing, and although Rena's voice was no louder than a whisper, it carried a soothing melody in old elven. The goddess had not taught him much of the elven language, but he could understand just enough to grasp the general tale of the song. It was about stars and fireflies. Not long before the chorus, small wisps of spiritual energy gathered around the room, giving their yellow-green light softly to the darkness, making it less ominous.

Although he tried to focus on the song and its story the best he could, trying to learn elven on his own, Ainchase felt his eyelids grow heavier and he finally gave in to a night's sleep where his nightmares did not come back to haunt him.

For the next days, Ainchase had begun to make his way to a successful recovery.

Ever since they had come to Wilma's home, Elsword could not help but notice how their team had naturally split. Ciel and Lu would be away for most of the day, getting up as early as their hosts, spending their whole day helping people here and there the best they could so their group did not run out of money before reaching their final destination. The young knight admired their hard work, and he only wished that he could do as much as they did. Rena was already regaining her movement, leaving only Ain bedridden, though he had gotten better. Everyone but Lu had, at one point or another, taken care of him. Despite his injuries, the priest seemed to be in a better mood as days had passed by.

Once again, Elsword was at the back of the barn, where a broken cart stored all their old belongings. It had been three and a half weeks since he had held his sword in his hands. The air was sharp and cold, each breath was another cloud over the steel sky. Even with the gloves, woollen blazer and pants he had borrowed from Wilma's sons' old belongings, he felt the wind cool his fingertips.

It was the prelude for the first snow, falling only a few days earlier than usual.

The red-haired boy reached out for his weapon, his muscles already stretching painfully as he took the cover off the cart, sending the heavy cloth flying with the breeze before it fell over the dry dirt ground at his feet. His sword was, by all means, still a training weapon, with a curve, almost dull and made for harmless fencing. It could knock people out with enough strength, but its sharpness laid on the sides, bevelled so sharply it could cut a wielder's fingers if they had the misfortune of grabbing the weapon without its scabbard.

That edge had only been there ever since Lowe sent him to fulfill this mission, warning him that he had to prove to be worthy to wield a weapon for the good of Ruben. After he had been so close to dying, without retrieving any clues about Banthus, was he still worthy of his weapon?

The boy's hand wrapped around the grip, stinging his hand with painful frost. It was glued with ice to his bag, which a thin layer of ice had also claimed. Elsword pulled the weapon carefully, still feeling his bones creak at the pressure and effort he was putting in. He would pull harder, but that would perhaps shatter his bones again. It was a battle between his will and the sensitive nerves, hurt muscles and bones that still had not fully healed.

And the pain won.

"Tch."

With a frown, Elsword loosened his grip and looked at his hand, burnt numbed by the ice. If only he could heal faster, the young knight thought, he would have no shame in facing Lowe again.

"Still trying to shatter the ice?" a familiar voice squeaked behind him.

The boy turned around to see Aisha, a heavy fur coat wrapping her to her feet and a woollen tuque covering most of her hair. Winter had not yet come, and yet she was dressed as if it were freezing outside. A bandage covered her left eye, her broken arm hanging under her coat with a cloth sling he only saw the knot of behind strands of her hair over her nape. He was half-expecting her to mock his weakness, but he did not wish to be the one to throw the first punch. If she taunted him about his weakness, he would fight back with her nonexistent tolerance to the cold.

"Yeah. Are you here to grab your gambeson?"

The mage shook her head and walked next to him, gathering mana on the palm of her healed hand. He could now see the sparks of blue energy slowly burn in a ruby red before transforming into a controlled fireball she made hover over the hilt of his sword. The ice dripped away, then she made the fireball hover over the sheathed blade until the ice was no more than water drops rolling down over the scabbard. The flames vanished, but her mana was still there, shifting from her hand over most of her arm as she grabbed his weapon and lifted it as if it was made of hollow wood.

She then reached out to give his sword.

"Here."

Elsword blinked a couple of times, trying his hardest to see if she was not using her mana to play a trick on him.

"Hey, you've been coming here every day to sulk alone. You wanted your sword back, didn't you? It may not look like it, but it's very hard to enhance my strength with mana, so better take your weapon before I end up dropping it."

"Uhm...ok. Thanks," Elsword hesitantly said, grabbing his weapon back. It was heavier than what he remembered, but he still could carry it with one hand. Why was Aisha doing this? He did want his weapon back, but he was in no shape to practice his skills. He came here to test his strength recovery, but maybe his bitterness had made her think that he was sulking around. Then again, why would she follow him? Aisha had always shown more care for her books than for anyone else.

She then pointed at him, more specifically at the amulet hanging from his neck, "I don't know how you did it on instinct back then, but when you were fighting that skeleton...you absorbed the mana from her attacks to empower yourself. If you could master that, you'd become faster and stronger despite your injuries."

Elsword tilted his head at her, his brows furrowed. Aisha stared at him for a good minute, as if she expected to say something, but seeing that she had only confused him, her cheeks flushed and she cleared her throat, needlessly combing her loose hair behind her ears, "I mean, if you knew no actual mages to know how to do so, you'd be only be dreaming of becoming stronger faster! Right?!"

"Are you...are you really offering to help me?"

Aisha rolled her eyes, pouting as she kicked a stone over to him, "Yes, you dummy! For the El's sake, it took you longer than a granny crossing the desert to get it!"

Somehow, her attempt at belittling him in such a childish way did not anger him anymore. In fact, it made him crack a smile, then a chuckle. And, just as unexpectedly, Aisha's pout softened into a smile as his laughter died out.

"Well, Elsword, do you want me to teach you?"

The red-haired boy nodded, "Of course, Aisha. Is there anything I can do in exchange?"

The sanderian mage shook her head, "No, it's fine. I mean...you protected me already from that monster. It's my way to repay my debt."

"I insist."

Aisha's sighed, " Knowing you, we'd be here all day arguing about it. Fine. I'd need someone to spar with against my staff. But that's only after you learn how to control the power of the amulet I gave you."

With a confident grin, "I'll make sure to finally get payback for making me trip the other day."

The same fire of determination burned in her eyes as she crossed her healthy arm confidently and looked down at him, "Don't get too ahead of yourself. We'll see by then who can get payback for what."

Just then, Ciel's voice called them from the barn's gates. The two kids turned around, surprised to see that snow had already left a sheet of white over the ground.

"Fighting again?" the mercenary sighed as he approached them.

"No, Ciel. We weren't." Elsword reassured him.

The blue-haired man had a bag of cloth over his shoulder, his clothes so patched up by mismatched shades of black, blue and grey that he looked closer to a beggar who had taken a bath and shaved rather than a mercenary.

"Well, that's very good. Elsword, Lowe wants to see us in fifteen minutes."

"All of us?" Aisha wondered, "Ain and Rena are still in no shape to move, everyone knows that."

Ciel grimaced briefly and, for a moment, Elsword could swear he caught the glimpse of small fangs. They seemed sharper than before, though the boy thought he had never taken a good look at them to tell for sure. It was impossible for fangs to grow in the span of weeks.

"Yes, but that's why he insisted on seeing us in the room where they are. Elsword, I warn you right now, Lowe is not exactly...very calm about things. Ann and Hagus came with him too."

Elsword clasped his sword, reminding himself that they had not lost everything. Lowe could have a thousand valid reasons to be angry, but as long as they persevered, the El would be back where it was needed. He glanced at Aisha and they both nodded.

"We'll be there soon. Do you need help with anything?" the boy asked.

The half-demon shook his head. "If you could go ahead and make sure Ainchase's bandages are ok before Lowe gets back here, it'd be great."

Aisha frowned at the mercenary, "Sure, but what are you going to do in the meantime?"

Ciel waved his bag a little, "Ann was kind enough to bring some stuff for me, Rena and Ain. We're much too tall and poor to get proper clothes here. I already left Ain's and Rena's in their room."

"Oh..."

The mercenary turned around and walked away, "Well, see you later."

The two kids walked back and Aisha broke the silence, glancing at him. "Are you nervous?"

"A little. But...as long as we live, we can still succeed, right?"

She smirked, "Probably. And Lowe can't be as scary as Rena, can he?"

Elsword shivered at the memory of Rena's scoldings. "No, Rena is on a whole other level."

"Then, keep your head high. He'd expect that much, right?"

She was right. Lowe had trained him as a proud knight. It was the time to show him that he was no longer a kid who had not been into a true battle.

Meanwhile, Banthus had been forced to stop, keeping a fire barely alive as the wind howled outside the cave he hid in. While the snow was falling peacefully elsewhere in the forests, the closer he got to the White Mist Swamp, the soft snowfall metamorphosed into a strong snowstorm, dropping the temperature so much the former captain feared his fingers would rot with frostbite.

Yet, he knew enough magic to create a weak spark of heat within his mana circuits and warm his hands and feet just enough to keep frostbite away. He could not do the same for his nose and ears, but his hair and the woollen scarf one of the phorus had brought for him kept the pain of dangerous frostbite away. He glanced at his mount; the horse was at its limit, his breath trembling, short puffs that nervously inflated and deflated its abdomen. Ice and snow weighed down its black mane. Maybe this was its last night.

The thought tugged at his heart, but there was not much he could do to make the horse stop shivering. It was as close as it could to the fire, but if Banthus was barely feeling the heat, the animal was most likely not feeling anything at all.

The imposing man got up, brought the bag he had unsaddled from his mount and sat next to his mount, patting with his warm hands the black horse's back, hoping to warm it, even if it was just a little. The horse nickered, turning its head towards him so he could pat it too. With a sad smile, Banthus did so, almost certain that the horse was growing calmer, forgetting the cold.

"You're the best horse I've had, Solare. Going through half of Ruben's forests like it's nothing."

His horse nuzzled him as if to reassure him that he would live to follow him another day. Banthus increased the spark on his mana, hugging the animal's neck, hoping that he could do just enough to warm them both. If only he had left the moment Wally threatened his family. If only he had not turned back, both Will and Liam would not have seen the anger in his eyes and would not have lashed out against Elder's tyrant.

And from that point on, Wally would have nothing to blackmail the El Search Party with. No high-ranking officers to report for attempted coup to the Centurion Guard, no hired brigands to assault the El Search Party's headquarters while they awaited their process from Velderian authorities.

If only he had not lost his temper at that one moment, almost six months ago, the El shard would still be there and Will and Liam would still be alive.

"Solare, don't add your name to the list of friends I've had to bury because of that single mistake."

Just as Banthus feared that the fire had died out, the flame got stronger and the wind's howl grew suddenly quieter. He quickly turned back, Solare blowing at the sudden change of temperature. One of the Totos was there, next to an unmasked Phoru, so thin that his sickly fur appeared to be the only thing to cover his skeleton. A magic barrier of some sort was keeping the cold outside as if it were a door while the smoke of the fire seemed to have vanished. It was the sign that it had been created with magic.

"You are closely approaching the right place, Banthus Evans," Toto began, ignoring his companion, whose stomach was cruelly growling, "The Ancient One is already awaiting your visit. That is the reason behind my protection. You and the animal badly are surviving the cold. It worried the Ancient One."

Banthus nodded, but his attention was often taken by the nervous, starving Phoru, who had begun to munch the fur on the tip of its paws to assuage his hunger. The former captain took out from his bag a small beef jerky and tossed it to the hungry Phoru. The phoru squealed happily as it reached out for it, but the moment Toto turned towards him, it stopped.

"Toto, he can have it. He's starving much more than me."

The Phoru looked at him and its deformed nuzzle made quiet, distorted squeals until it finally could form the shadow of a word:

"...Eenks."

"No problem, pal. Eat up."

The Phoru nodded and grabbed avidly the jerky and savoured every small bite it took with its twisted fangs. Before, Banthus would have been terrified of the creature, but now that he knew the Phorus had all been human before, it became part of his duty to save them. Stealing the El Shard had endangered the lives of many, but it could just as well lift the curse Lua had imposed on just as many innocents. Once the Ancient Phoru told him how to reverse the curse, he would accept any judgement the Centurion Guard and the Church of Ishmael gave to him.

One thing was clear in his mind: Wally would have to pass over his dead body to get the El Shard.

Toto huffed, shaking his head at him, "Banthus Evans, you seem to overestimate the extent of my power. I cannot create food to ensure your survival. You must not waste it."

"It's not going to waste, Toto," Banthus answered, grabbing a jerky for himself before giving the last one to the hungry Phoru, "I know I'm only half a day from the White Mist Swamp. There's enough wild berries and game to satisfy my hunger over there."

"Time. You might not have it for hunting."

"That's where you're wrong. If the Ancient Phoru wants to see me that much, it will let me hunt and eat. Otherwise, I would starve before getting to him."

"Fair. Still, giving food away is senseless."

"Not as much as you think. You do it for your family, for your friends and for those you call companions. Right now, you're my companions."

Toto remained quiet for a moment, looking down. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, yet immensely thankful, "Banthus Evans...I think this is the first time I have felt something...an...an emotion. Why is that?"

Banthus smiled, "You're closer to become human again, Toto."

"Am I? Am I truly?"

"Yes. Because I'm closer to free every single one of you from that witch's curse. I'm a man of my word, Toto."