inchase sat on the bed of straw he was given. None of the rooms had any windows because of some strange traditions of the locals. He could not tell the difference between day and night from here, save the distant howls of wolves from time to time. Even though he could see through any darkness, it was never enough to make him feel at ease when the sun went down.

He took a deep breath. The injuries on his back stretched so painfully he feared he had reopened his wounds. Yet, the bandages felt as dry and fresh as they did an hour ago, when Rena had changed them. He looked down, clenching his fist. He took another deep breath and forced himself up. The sudden movement made him feel light, and he stumbled for two steps before finally gaining control over his walk. He glanced back, panting. Ainchase frowned at the insignificant distance he had crossed compared to the effort he had put just getting this far.

The elf was healing faster than he was. Something was off about his injuries, but, until they reached Elder, there would not be a single temple where he could reconnect with his goddess and ask her to renew his strength. He had given up on meditation in these forests, but Ainchase was sure that he would reach the goddess in one of her temples. With a groan, he limped towards the wooden cane at the end of the room. When he took it, he smirked, leaning on the tool which gave him back some mobility. He was already sick of being confined to a single room, more so when he had to ask others for help. He had tried to see the good in it, but there was nothing more degrading to a Celestial than being aided by anyone other than Ishmael herself.

The Celestial put his hand over the doorknob and turned it. Sunlight pierced his sight, bringing a headache and clouding his vision with greens and blues for a few uncomfortable seconds.

"Ain, are you alright?"

He nodded at Rena's voice, blinking until the scenery around him returned completely. If Wilma's abode was humble and comfortable, the home of Sylfer, Hagen's leader, was as austere as a barren military camp. Besides the multiple bedrooms, the rest of the house was an open space shaped like a rectangle. The west had all the dried herbs and a small sanctuary for their pagan gods. On the other side, hangers and wardrobes held all sorts of coats and weapons that they used to hunt in the forests. All bedrooms were aligned to the south, and the entrance of every home always pointed North. At the centre of it all, a fire always burnt next to whatever pottery, cutlery, pans, and pots they needed. Everything was aligned in a specific order. Pottery and cutlery closer to the bedrooms and the pots carefully aligned behind the pottery except for a row of lead pots. They looked so old. They might as well have been ceremonial.

Ainchase walked next to the fire and slowly sat down. Rena followed him and immediately looked for any opened wounds.

"I'm healing alright, Miss Rena."

He noticed the iron pincers stuck in the sand that stopped the flames from spreading and took them. Expertly, he used them to take off the cover of the first lead pan to his right and took out two small bits of coal to fuel the dying flames.

The elven woman smiled at him, "You've certainly recovered a lot. Do you know a lot of things like that instinctively?"

Ain tilted his head, "Things like what?"

Rena pointed to the pot he had uncovered, "Sylfer always shuffles the pots around in a different order every morning. I tried to keep up with it, but he became even more secretive about it."

Ishmael's servant shrugged, "All I know about other cultures was taught to me in my travels. This might be no exception."

"Might? You're not sure?"

Ain furrowed his eyebrows, putting everything where he had found it, "It's just a pot of coal, Miss. Rena. I travel too much to remember everything in detail."

The elf's ears lowered, a bitter smirk darkening her bright green gaze, "You're right, Ain. There's no point in asking about your homeland."

Only the silent crackle of the flames filled the long minute of silence that followed before the front door opened. The rest of the group was back with frozen mud on their boots and scratches on their clothes. Besides some serious bruising on Lu's and Ciel's neck, their infiltration into the White Mist Swamp seemed to have gone the best it could.

That is, if they had the Shard with them. Ainchase frowned at the demoness, who barely gave him or Rena a nod before going to hang her oversized fur coat with the rest. Elsword looked exhausted, and Aisha simply said she'd go to the hot springs to relax before closing the door after Ciel entered. The half-demon contented himself with following his mistress and sat down next to her, across from Ain and Rena. As for Elsword, he was lying on his back.

The young knight closed his eyes, took a deep breath and spoke first, "...He got away. The Ancient Phoru protected him."

Ainchase raised an eyebrow as the young knight elaborated on their battle with the Ancient Phoru. It had understandably gone berserk with two demons in its most sacred territory. Still, it was too much of a stretch to see it go berserk against people like Elsword. Ancient Spirits would not be so unreasonable as to indiscriminately attack those who were gifted by the goddess. It would surely have sought to protect him.

Rena was the first to voice her disbelief, "Spirits wouldn't seek to kill humans just because they're next to demons. It's more likely that they would have tried to protect you from them."

Elsword shook his head, "Well, I could talk things out with it, but I really felt we could have died if Lu hadn't stepped in."

Ainchase squinted at him, "Come again? You trusted what a demon perceived as a threat?"

The boy looked at Lu and Ciel and the half-demon stared at his mistress. The demoness seemed reluctant to speak but finally gave in to the long silence.

"The Ancient Phoru was channelling a lethal binding spell to kill me. That spell uses all the vital mana from any other being to form chains strong enough to kill a demon. I had to take their mana to protect them."

Ishmael's servant chuckled, "Demoness, the Divine Bindings are only lethal if both the source and target are demons. Neither Aisha nor Elsword got horns or pointy ears, right? Call it for what it is: You hungered for power and incapacitated two young fighters."

Luciela frowned, looking down before staring like a hawk, her fists clenched. Although she kept her head high, Ain suspected it was a façade, "Sure, why not? I can't genuinely care about any human. Unlike your oh so benevolent self. It's such a shame that you were injured and couldn't be there, isn't it?"

The priest raised an eyebrow, more amused than offended by the demoness' reaction, "It really is. Unlike you, I would have gotten the El. You know what they say, the cobbler should stick to his last."

Lu rolled her eyes before yawning, "Funny how well that worked out for you when you went out to tame that undead elf, huh?"

His small grin vanished under a glare as cold as Lu's. The tables had suddenly turned on him. Luciela smirked, giving him a shrug, "Guess we all got our shortcomings, don't we? You can't change what happened."

Rena had been staring at them closely, as if she was waiting for their arguing to end at that instant or intervene herself. The demon countess glanced at the elven woman with a nod, turning back from him to speak generally at the group. All the malice in Lu's gaze transformed into decisiveness, although fatigue permeated through her expression. She yawned again when she asked both Rena and Ciel the pace of their trip to Elder from now on. It was truly too late to change his past failings, but that was all the more reason why he could not leave a single thing into the hands of the demons. They could not care less about Elrios.

With a short sigh, Ain straightened up and looked at Rena, who took in her hands the Lurensian Almanac she had Elsword bring from the altar to her side. After thanking him, her eyebrows furrowed as she searched for the events of the year's winter, flipping rapidly through the book's pages.

"Sylfer said there's a storm coming around the area next week, but..." she trailed off as her gaze finally brightened around the middle of the book, "Ah, there it is! The Almanac confirms it."

The elven woman put the old book down. The page had a warning for the Northern region, showing only a fraction of a map. The area circled Hagen village and the mountainous area further north, just a few miles off the boundaries of Wilma's village. The village they were in before was so small the map simply called it a "farmer settlement", although Hagen itself was only ten inhabitants away from being a settlement as well.

Elsword clicked his tongue, "Mid-winter storms are the worst. If that ever catches us, I don't think even the best hunting dogs could pull our sleigh through the forests."

Ciel traced his finger from the pale ink where the details of the forests and other natural landmarks lost themselves with the roads that led to Elder. He squinted his eyes at the crossing of the two routes, over what looked to be a mountain foot. "Elsword, do you know which route is the fastest from here on?"

"Uhh," the young boy hesitated, leaning closer to the map and squinting his eyes to try to distinguish the two roads that connected Hagen to Elder.

Ainchase stared at the map, unaware of how his shell shattered around his face. A curse he mistook for the flame's heat crawled over his eye, turning his sclera darker. The ink, to his eyes, was now fresher, as it had been only an hour after its creator finished the last traits. The priest pointed to the western route. It passed near a lake, but compared to the eastern route, there were no clear mountains or swamps to get through. The terrain would be perfect for a prompt arrival to Elder.

"This route looks better," he said as his eye returned to normal, "We avoid the Silent Peaks and the Grey Swamp. Even if it's longer, the terrain is more maneuverable."

Rena and Lu looked more attentively at the route he had pointed out, struggling to make out the clear traits out of the washed out and dirty parchment. Elsword was the first one to get the perfect trace of his path, whistling in admiration to Ishmael's servant.

"Your vision is as good as a Ruchi's, Ain."

The priest nodded, tuning out of the discussion that followed. The traits of the map were too washed out to ever be that clear. Was what he saw a weak sign of the goddess? He wished it was the case. Or else he would have to worry for far more things than just healing slowly. The slow healing itself could be a side-effect of something far grimmer. Something that could, undoubtedly, bring his mission down. The group soon decided to get on route the following day. Ain had suggested to get out at the first light, but his words were met with complaints from everyone else around him. Aisha got back, frowning at the minor fight between the rest of the group.

"Same as always, huh?" she muttered, taking off her hooded coat and fur-covered boots. Ainchase followed her with his eyes until she turned around.

Ainchase barely glanced up at her, pointing out to the group that if they were tired, there were still more than enough mana potions to regain their stamina before they ran out. Either way, they were going into a town who would certainly have more than one alchemist that could do them the favour to replenish their stocks. The half-demon, however, voiced that he doubted anyone would give them anything given the situation. Rena added that they really did not need to rush that much. The difference would not amount to half a day.

Now with only thick woollen socks, the mage walked next to the rest of the group, sitting down to Elsword's right, taking care to fold her skirt properly as she sat over her calves. She closed her eyes as she began to comb her damp, loosened hair with a wooden brush, "All of you could have said good evening. But I guess I'm as visible as the wind as long as you're arguing."

Everyone turned around to Aisha as if she had teleported right there. Elsword, after his initial surprise, apologized. The demoness simply shrugged and rested her head on her servant's lap, her gaze drifting off to sleep. The half-demon and Rena echoed Elsword's apology. As for him, Ainchase offered her something less than apologetic:

"I had hoped you would step in to share the spotlight."

The mage lazily nodded, paying more attention to her hair, "Sure, I suppose priest's manners are different. Did you guys decide what we should do now?"

Ainchase could not help but notice how Luciela's servant was naturally adjusted to his role. Normally, he would expect some more resistance and reluctance from a human, but Ciel was even patting Lu's head, lulling her to sleep. Still, the mage-hunter could both serve his new mistress and explain their plan in detail. The route would take a week, and considering the dangers they had braved thus far, the group could face a journey twice that long. However, that meant giving in to Hagen's specialty travel cuisine, which sometimes consisted of dried beast guts and bone marrow preserved in bear grease.

Aisha gravely nodded, her eyebrows furrowed at the mention of their last resorts, "If the El wills it, we won't have to actually eat those last resort reserves. Bone marrow in oil sounds disgusting."

Rena chuckled nervously, "I would have to hope there are still some berries for me. But, I trust we will all make it in time. You're all very tired, so we'd better rest up and do the final packing tomorrow morning. Alright?"

Luciela was already asleep, but everyone else nodded. Aisha was the first to head out to her room, followed by Elsword. Ciel, with a regretful sigh, had to wake his mistress up to carry her to bed. In the end, just like when it had begun, it was only he and Rena. The elf got up carefully and offered him her hand, a gentle smile on her lips.

"You can't recover fully if you don't rest either, you know?"

Ain shook his head but accepted nonetheless her help, "I shouldn't have to rest at all."

"Well, for now you do. It won't hurt."

He wondered just how true that was for someone like him as he went back to the windowless prison he had to sleep in for just one last night.


Unlike his pursuers, Banthus did not have many chances to rest until he was sure he had enough distance from both the authorities in Elder and the El Search Party. Solare was perhaps the best stallion in Ruben, but even he tired under the rocky, snowy, and sometimes icy paths through the Silent Peaks.

His only saving grace were the masked Phorus, whose magic shortened the distance to Elder's Shadow Forest. Instead of an arduous ten-day journey, Banthus got to the forests in four days. Under any other circumstances, Bathus would avoid these lands altogether. It was no secret that quite a few people tended to disappear within the Shadow Forest whenever they set foot within them. No one would ever think he had chosen this route over the detour that would bring him to Hagen village, and that was all he really needed.

The longer he could stall both of his enemies to arrest him for his theft, the better. The air itself changed as soon as he set more than three steps onto the almost forgotten path. It was definitely colder, and the scent of iron only made him and Solare more nervous despite the group of Brure and Mars around them. The Phorus were his only ticket into a safe haven in this place.

Or so he wanted to believe.

As he adjusted the bag he carried the El with on his back, Banthus heard bushes rustle from behind. He stopped and soon did the spirits who were following him.

"What do you sense?"

A Mars,an orange-haired Phoru with a fox mask,raised its head up, huffing the air. The three Brure, the two other Mars, and Banthus clenched their weapons tighter. No one would think the sticks the Mars held were particularly deadly, but their magic allowed them to shape their simple staffs into whatever weapon they needed. The Brure, on the other hand, were strong enough to carry clubs as heavy and long as half a tree trunk with one hand. The rustling continued, growing closer. The green fur on the Brure's shoulders bristled, and the Mars let out a low growl.

"It is one of Toto," the Mars who had smelt the mana in the air answered, "But...some things is not quite the right."

"Boss," one of the Brure said softly with its guttural voice, "You's not safe. We defend you now."

Banthus frowned and unsheathed his gigantic blade, "To hell with that, Brure. The El knows how much I regret not doing anything when I know how to fight. I will fight by your side."

Just then, the Toto he had saved in the White Mist Swamp jumped out of the bushes, and it was immediately obvious for Banthus what the other Phorus meant. The mask had a blue stain in the form of an eye, carved perfectly in the middle of its forehead. Banthus stood his ground and pretended to lower his guard, lowering his weapon as he slowly charged it with mana. If things turned ugly, he could summon a Triple Geyser to give himself and the rest enough time to run. The rest of the Phorus knew a safe place in the middle of the most hostile forests in Lurensia.

"Toto," the man began, speaking with friendly authority. Although he feared the mutated mouths and eyes that were melting through the spirit's fur, he wished to observe quietly. At each new piece of fur that fell in patches, a foul, purple goo appeared underneath. It was unlike anything he had seen before.

"Silence, Banthus Evans. Yond hast ne'er been mine own name."

Banthus frowned at the extremely archaic Elrian Toto was now speaking. He had only read about the archaic folk songs and Velderian plays, but never had he heard it spoken so naturally. The Toto chuckled so euphorically and loudly anyone could have mistaken it as his reaction to the curse that was melting right through him. The dark, blue and black eye glowed even more.

"The dream cometh true! I bethink myself of mine own life, ere this malison! Banthus Evans, mine own name is Aurelius! Aurelius DaVernicio. Prithee, let me cure thine company! Stay here, and I will cure all of thee!"

The last parts of the mask peeled off Toto's, or rather Aurelius's, face. Banthus did not need to study the whole Elrian bible to understand he was now facing a ghost: a malignant spirit who wished to consume them all. From the Phoru he had saved, nothing but a distorted, guttural laughter remained. Its body barely held together. It was closer to a riptide floating on the air than a human, or a Phoru for that matter. The smell of rotten flesh surrounded them in waves of miasma as the monster continued to plead with the rest of them to stay, promising the world and more to the rest of the Phorus. With a battle cry, Banthus took his weapon in both hands, the steel of his gigantic blade becoming a second sun in the darkness, before he planted it on the ground. The first pillar of light erupted in a flash, sending wood chips and rocks flying along the burning magic, right on Aurelius's blue eye. The spirit roared and took a step back, right over the second and third pillar of flaming red magic.

With a final sound that Banthus could only describe as the most desperate sob a man could ever make, Aurelius was no more. The exiled captain finally dared to take a deep breath, watching for any signs of life in the ashes in front of him. The Brure to his right put his four-fingered hand over his shoulder.

"Not safe for any no more, boss. We run."

The one-eyed fugitive gave him a nod, sheathing his weapon back, "Yeah, we should."

Banthus mounted back on Solare and ordered every Phoru around him to continue their march through the winter night, only warmed by the momentary flash of mana. Although one could have seen Banthus confidently riding and focused on his path, the man's mind was still trying to make sense of what he had just witnessed. After a good hour, the Phorus finally stopped in front of a cave. Banthus lowered his scarf, sighing at the place. The entrance was not very wide, and that alone was a reason to believe the cave itself was as small as it got.

Nevertheless, a small shelter was better than none at all. He unmounted his horse and looked at one of the Mars, "Is there water nearby?"

The orange-haired spirit nodded, "Of sure. Beneath the low descent, water runs."

Banthus raised an eyebrow, stepping closer to the cave as he pulled his stallion with him, "So, it must be pretty big."

"Bigger than Ancient One's Temple," A Brure pridefully added, "You's be safer nowhere, Boss!"

While he still had his doubts, they all cleared the moment he shook his only light orb to tear through the darkness around him. The entrance itself was small, but the walls were built like the entrance to an ancient palace. From each little crevice that water and wind had created, glimpses of gold coins, carved rubies and even emerald necklaces shone in the dark. The path itself was not what many would expect of a natural cave. Even if time had peeled some of the fresques off, the red and gold coat of arms of the Centurion Guard could still be seen, engraved over the old tiles. The mysterious wealth of this desolate place took Banthus back to the illustrations of children's stories he had read long ago. Stories of lost treasures and adventure. Carefully, he followed the corridor down until he came by a small chamber. The path beyond that, further down the cave, was too narrow for Solare to go down with him. With a gentle pat, he guided the stallion to this makeshift stable. The animal was already exhausted by the journey and did not even protest when Banthus went away. Instead, Solare calmly laid down and rested. With a line of six Phorus behind him, the former captain of the El Search party went down to find a hall of reliquaries beyond his dreams. Old flags of kingdoms long gone hung along some walls, heavy with dust. Shining armours from across Elrios lined up in front of an empty altar, where two torches still burned.

At this underground level, the cold was nothing but a memory, and Banthus could already hear the underground river Mars had mentioned running further down, where the path they had come from continued. He took off his dirty, heavy fur coat and woollen scarf, still staring at the old flag that hung over the wall where the Altar rose.

"By the El almighty," he muttered, dropping the light orb on the ground. The healing magic within it shone, healing the scratches and bruises, climbing up the cave like a summer breeze. The masked Phorus around him looked at each other and back at the pile of rocks and cloth that had taken the complete focus of their boss. They all thought it could be a side-effect of their trip, which they went on with an empty stomach. The Brure decided to head out while the Mars stayed to prepare a fire to warm whatever beast their fellow Phorus would bring back to them and their boss.

One of the Mars, the one who had the mask on for longer than the rest, walked to Banthus's side, hearing him mutter words of wonder and disbelief.

"Are rocks not normal?" it asked, tilting its head at the cloth and pile of polished stone.

The boss turned towards him, finally snapping out of his strange obsession with the stone. "Hm? Well, it's not the altar per se. It's...it's this whole place," he continued, opening his arms before dropping them to the side tiredly, "If people thought I was saying nonsense when I told them about Lua, what'll happen if I tell them that I found this place…"

The big man sighed, sitting near the fire, joining the other Mars, "I'm good for a long stay in a House of Healing."

"House of Healing?" one of the other Mars asked, "What is those?"

The one-eyed man straightened up, his eyebrows furrowed at the realization that even if he spoke softly, every Phoru would always hear him, "It's a place the people who are really badly injured go to heal. Whether their wounds are visible or not."

The Mars furthest away from the fire shook his head, "You have not injuries. Why go there if it is good here?"

Banthus Evans shook his head, "I'm not going there. I was just saying that just being in this place is so incredible that others would think I'm insane if I ever told them I knew this place existed."

The third Mars, who was sitting to his left, tilted his head, "Place has been here long. Why strange for others?"

Banthus took a deep breath, looking up at the stalactites hanging more than two stories above him, "Where do I even begin…."

Every Mars turned towards the path where they had all entered from and, soon enough, Banthus heard the Brure's steps coming in. From the quiet rustle, Banthus could tell they were dragging some animal. The first appeared, his hands full of edible wild berries, and they soon stepped aside to let the others enter with ease. Their clothes and masks slightly bloody, the remaining Brure carried a deer on their shoulders.

"Nice catch, boys,"Banthus whistled at the animal as he readied the hunting dagger he carried ever since he departed on his second mission as an official member of the El Search Party.

As he looked at the carefully sharpened blade, chipped very slightly here and there, he chuckled. He thought that, at least, he should take the time to retell a bunch of his adventures, like he would do in front of all those young recruits. If only things had turned out just a little different.

"We help skin it, boss?" one of the Mars asked, getting out his rusty blade from his side pocket.

Banthus shook his head, "No, let me skin it. Your blade could make the meat go bad with all that rust."

Banthus knelt in front of the catch and carefully put the dagger over the deer's side, being careful to not sink the blade or touch the bloodied fur with his hands. He closed his eye, trying to remember how Lowe's weird prayers went.

"We thank the Old Protectors for this gift. The soul of this deer will bask in your haven, far from Batara's claws, to help our ancestors reach the Great Beyond."

With an embarrassed chuckle, Banthus opened his eyes and began to prepare the deer's meat, "I probably botched that pretty badly."

One of the Brure shook his head as he and the rest sat around him to watch him gut the animal, "Boss, you's not botch. I think you's words serious. They good. Learned them where?"

"Oh, a long time ago a friend taught them to me. We were barely strong enough to hunt rabbits back in those days but…" his sentence trailed off as he got the animal's stomach out. He carefully caught it, making sure the toxic juices would not get out. Luckily, the deer had a mostly empty stomach. The stomach would make a great waterskin if they ever had to move again. He had read a lot about making such utilities, but he had never really put his knowledge to practice. Banthus told himself that he would have to trust his best skill, his memory, to survive all alone.

"But?" the Mars collectively asked, startling him.

"Oh, sorry. I left you guys hanging, didn't I? Back in those days, Lowe, my friend, almost beat me up for immediately skinning the rabbit without the proper prayer. He was really scary for a midget. But I guess that's to be expected from the kind of place he was raised in."

"Prayers like those," the most cured Mars began, "Could the friend be a Hunter?"

Banthus nodded, taking out the rest of the animal's guts. He did not know how to use them except for bait. Sadly, they would go to waste. "Not by birth, but a lot of things got Lowe raised far away from his family's place. The old man Sylfer took him in and practically raised him like his own son. When he gets really drunk, Lowe lets loose all the songs he's ashamed to hum next to anyone."

With the guts now out of the way, Banthus asked a Brure to hold the deer upside down, with its legs spread so the remaining blood would drip properly. Once the last drops of blood were almost dried up, Banthus began to slowly peel the fur and skin off the animal's rear legs.

"I don't blame the guy, really. The songs he calls beautiful would make any kid piss their pants."

"Know one, boss?" the Brure who held the deer asked.

"Hmm," Banthus furrowed his eyebrows, pondering whether he should bore them with the verses of the longest ones or not. As he peeled the skin off half of the animal, he decided against it. "I do know a short one. But it's really not the song to sing over a nice meal like this."

"Still," A Mars said, "Please sing."

Banthus shook his head, finishing to peel the fur off, "Fair warning," he said, pointing with his bloodied dagger to the audience of spirits, "My voice might scrape your ears."

Just as he began to cut pieces of meat to impale over the sticks that had remained free from the flames of the fire, Banthus sang one of the many songs Lowe had sang with a drunken smile on his face. He might have been only like other loud drunks, but Banthus really thought that those moments were the only ones where Lowe loosened up and enjoyed the moment instead of worrying endlessly about his past or what the future would hold.

If Thee doth not fear the Shadows

Thine steel shouldst brighten the night

And maybe survive, Thee might

Old Folks like me knoweth

The more the path thou follow

The somber the night, it watches in silence

If the path of memory thy men choose to follow

Through a dream

Thine protector in blue thee shall meetheth

The masked Phorus looked at one another, some tilting their head curiously at the song. The most human Mars spoke first.

"Boss Banthus," he began, "Song sounds a lot like Toto's words. Said something about dream. And we call Shadow Forest the Shadows."

Banthus sighed as he began to serve everyone a piece of deer meat, his frown only growing deeper, "So, are you saying that the song is a warning against what we saw Toto turn into?"

"Might." the second Mars answered, taking the first piece of meat to roast over the fire.

"Well, that's not our problem as long as we have this cave. The rest will join us here, and whether the song is true or not, everyone avoids The Ent and its forests."

"Indeed, boss."

As he finished splitting the meat into bigger portions for the Brure, Banthus asked the Brure who was holding the remaining carcass to take it outside with the guts, save for the stomach. With a piece of meat covering most of his dagger, the former captain finally sat down to cook and enjoy his most nutritious meal in days. Quite frankly, a part of him wished to bite the meat raw, but that mistake had kept him bedridden for days when he was Elsword's age. If it wasn't for Lowe's knowledge in botanic medicine back then, Banthus might have died before a cleric from Feita could come.

The Ruben forests were lonelier back in those days, and Elder was quieter. But, even so, Banthus only regretted that those simpler days could no longer return. Lads like Elsword and Elesis were born in a more dangerous world. A world much more like what Lowe had known.

'I bet he's leading the El Search Party better than I would have in this situation', Banthus thought with a small smile as he turned the meat around to cook it better, 'Thank you, Lowe, for thinking about your importance to Ruben more than your anger towards me. That kindness suits you better.'

"Boss?" one of the Brure asked him, taking him out of his thoughts. Banthus blinked a couple of times and looked at one of the hunters.

"What is it, Brure?"

"Is you sad, Boss?"

The man chuckled, loudly and wholeheartedly, putting a hand over the giant's back, as he could not reach his shoulder, "Not at all, Brure. I'm glad to be here, sharing a meal with you over long, happy stories of the past. Whoops-!"

With a swift gesture, Banthus pulled his dagger back as it was tilting just a little too much into the flames. With a comically defeated frown, Banthus stared at the burnt side of his meal. The Mars chuckled, and soon the other Brure joined in. With roasted and surprisingly delicious meat to fill his hunger, Banthus continued to share more stories of his past and old legends he was forced to repeat over and over.

Naturally, every masked Phoru was curious about what legends he knew. Seeing no better moment to answer the question of the Mars he had avoided, he looked all around the cave, "You know, I could tell you the names of the houses each of these flags belong to. Nobody but us seven know about this cave."

"No," a Mars said, shaking his head, "Toto, Mars, Brure and Ancient One know, too."

"Ah, but have they stayed here?"

"No."

With a grin, Banthus clapped once, "Then, gentlemen, that makes us really lucky to be the first to find and stay in Vincent Conwell's hidden base."

"Vincent...Conwell? You's friend too, Boss?"

The former captain shook his head, "Man, I wish. If he was really like the legends say, Vincent Conwell was the most noble knight to ever exist."

He leaned a bit back as he took another bite of the meat, chewing it, savouring it as if it were his last meal. Once he swallowed, he continued his story, "Vincent Conwell was the only knight of the Centurion Guard to be given the title of Knight of Dawn," Banthus raised his dagger and passed it from one hand to another to illustrate his words, "He could summon copies of his sword made of light and," he opened his free hand, tensing his fingers as he closed them, as if he were controlling a spell, " he could use Light Magic strong enough to pull anything he wished towards him before cutting them all with a swing of his blade."

Banthus closed his fist dramatically as he finished the tale to his attentive audience, "Final Strike, he called it."

He took a mouthful of meat and, once he chewed and swallowed, Banthus sighed, "Or so they say."

"Strong," the most human Mars said, "What happened to Vincent Conwell?"

Banthus shrugged, "If we go by the poems, he was killed; alone and betrayed. Legends don't say much more than that no matter how much you try to interpret it. Trust me. Although, if we get even luckier, we might find the scabbard of his weapon around."

"For you, boss! You's strong to be Knight of Dawn!"

With a chuckle, the leader led the jokingly greedy act play on, "That title does suit me, doesn't it?" He rested his chin over the space between his thumb and index, a cocky grin on his face as he began to solemnly recite a satire of a knighthood speech, "Banthus Evans, the successor of Vincent Conwell. Most wanted Knight of Ruben. In the name of the Kingdom, may your sword protect this land and all the souls in it and the souls to be. May the El will it!"

He expected his acting to get some laughter, but the looks the Phoru were given him were of admiration.

"Is scabbard really here, boss? You's sure?"

"Nah, come on," Banthus said with a more serious, but still teasing tone, "Nobody knows where Vincent Conwell died or what even happened to his legendary weapon."

With the jokingly smile off his face, Banthus stretched with a yawn. He looked at everyone's faces, "Being the Knight of Dawn means very little to me. I've always been disgusted by how people use the power behind their titles. That's why I'd rather help everyone I can as Banthus Evans, not some glorified knight."

Although no one noticed it that night, the artifact beneath the altar where Vincent Conwell's throne once was began to undo every binding that hid it.


Days of cold winter went by in the deserted heart of Elder. Not even the fellow Fluonians she had travelled with had decided to move around except for food. The young raven-haired woman was nervous, clenching her woollen coat as close to her as she could. The cold here chilled her to the bone, and to think she was used to the harshest winters at the edge of the mountains of Fahrman's Peak.

Ara, do you really wish to talk to those foreigners?

The voice of Eun was almost like the girl's mother, patient and kind. Yet, this time, the ancient spirit did not even try to hide her hostility. Ara walked on in the evening, surrounded by growing slums where other hooded people passed by muttering in the traditional Elrian dialect. A different language to Ara's ears. The girl knew that what happened in her village could come here. The few words she had heard about demons appearing in the forests during the summer made her feel determined to help the people of Elder.

The sound of picks digging on stone along some bellowing laughs around the corner surprised her. That was where the Elrian Chapel was. With both relief and fear, the young girl deviated from her path to take a look at what was going on.

She froze and hid behind the corner of a closed shop, fearing already the crowd of angry citizens, guards, and clergymen that was gathered around what she assumed to be masons. Ara peeked at the scene again. She pulled her old, worn out scarf over her face to hide the traits that betrayed her origin as a foreigner as much as she could. While she did not understand much of the local dialect, there were some clergymen who spoke in an understandable Elrian, albeit with an accent she had heard from the Velderian sailors who brought her and an entire group of refugees from Isshin to Lurensia.

"Do you even understand that this is a declaration of war?" one of the clergymen hollered, outraged, "The Church won't forgive this!"

Ara raised herself on her tiptoes to see what was beyond the crowd, and she could not believe her eyes. Eun chuckled.

Serves those brutes right. Tear those wicked places to the ground, men of Elder!

The only Chapel of the Church of the El, the same church who had made her journey even harder, was being torn down by a group of fifty men, stone by stone. The guards were there to keep the crowd of believers and clergymen far enough from the demolition side. However, more and more onlookers gathered, slowly but surely pushing the barricade of guards out. The crowd got louder, and fear consumed Ara. Anger spread like oil over the crowd.

A stone hit a guard's skull with a muffled 'thud', blood dripped down his helmet. The rock a priest had thrown had been lodged deeply within the man's face, replacing his eye. The crowd took a step back, the masons stopped their work, and the guards gathered around their comrade as he fell. Time held its breath and the spark ignited.

"Who threw it?!" the guard closest to the fallen one howled, "Who is the corrupted spawn of the Ent who threw it?!"

Ara, child, you don't need to watch this. Go where you wished to go.

"But Eun…" Ara tearfully mumbled, "As a Haan, I need to-"

A woman screamed. The sound of an unsheathed sword cut the air, and the scream suddenly stopped. A priestess's body fell to the ground. Her white and blue robes bloomed with crimson, her blood warmly marking the uniform of the wrathful guard who had slain her.

"I bet it was you, bitch. The Senacian Church doesn't have its place here."

"Sir," another man slurred, "Look at how weak she is. Ain't seen a woman that frail throw a stone that hard."

The chief nodded, "True. I'll say this one more time, cravens! Who threw that rock?!"

ARA! GO! NOW!

But the young girl could not move. Her mind was running wild with all sorts of thoughts. As a Haan, she stood for the innocent, to protect everyone from evil if they could not do it themselves. The sound of the riot grew duller, and the other guards readied their crossbows, aiming right at the crowd. The thirty people who had gathered in the Holy Square of the Church began to run. The first volley fired. Two children with their mothers and the priest who she had heard first fell, arrows impaling their torsos from one side to the other.

'What would brother do?' the girl tirelessly thought, 'What would brother do? They took my spear at the port, brother. Aren, brother, what should I do?'

The soldiers calmly advanced as the crowd pushed one another to get out of the tight alley that guaranteed advantage to the cruel men who were shooting them down. Another volley flew, and Ara's heart was racing beyond her control. Another wave of people fell. By the third wave, the soldiers were right next to her, and all ten turned to stare at her by the time the last civilian had fallen to their arrows.

"Hey, woman," one of them said in the Elderian dialect, pointing a dagger at her, "You saw this shit, huh?"

Ara remained silent. The guards surrounded her. The leader, the one who had killed the priestess, was taller and stronger than the rest. He grabbed her by the collar and lifted her up, forcibly pushing her hood and scarff off her face.

"We can't leave any witnesses, girl. Tell us what you saw."

The white-haired girl with crimson eyes smirked, her hairpin falling to the ground. Her long, beautiful hair floated around her as if it was lifted by an invisible air current before dropping over her shoulders, "Oh, aren't you a rude one? What happened to 'Do not dishonour your Protectors?' Don't they teach that in these lands?"

The man tilted his head, unfamiliarized with the Isshin dialect Eun had spoken in. His eyes widened in fear when nine white fox tails pushed Ara's coat off her shoulders. However, by the time he realized the danger he was in, Eun had dug right through his jugular with two fingers, absorbing his vital mana.

With a sigh of delight, Eun licked her lips as the guard dropped to his knees, letting her go. "What a nutritious meal. But, this body is still weakened by hunger. Say," she continued with a candid smile, "now that your leader isn't giving refugees decent food, how about you become my meal?"

Just like the victims they had chased down, Eun showed them no mercy, hunting them down one by one before walking back to the snowy alley where Ara's coat laid, clean as it could be, save for the stains the sullied, muddy snow left on the sleeves. The ancient spirit put it on and combed carefully Ara's hair with the pin as she confidently walked away down the most isolated alleys. By the time she was done, Ara's hair turned back to its beautiful onyx colour, and the red marks on her face were all gone. A blink of an eye later, there were no longer any traces of her transformation.

Ara stumbled on a pebble hidden by the snow and fell right on her face, feeling the biting cold all over her again. Wiping a tear of pain, the girl clumsily swept away the snow off her clothes the best she could, sighing in defeat at the sight of her dirty sleeves. She looked around her, noticing that she was only two blocks away from the place where some citizens were invited to gather by Hoffman.

"Eun," she muttered, "did you help me run?"

Of course, Ara. Without a weapon, even I would be powerless against those men. Besides, once we tell everyone what we know, we can still help the people of this town, right? The Haan family would be proud of you.

The raven-haired girl smiled, "I see. I'm glad to have you with me, Eun. I don't know why, Eun, but sometimes, I feel stronger when you help me get out of really bad trouble."

With an apologetic chuckle, the girl combed some locks of her hair back, "Although, that must really tire you, Eun. Sorry."

Not at all, Ara. I will protect you anytime you need.

"But you wouldn't hurt anyone anymore, would you?"

No. That's not what you want, and no one has forced my hand to even try to hurt them. Not since we left that filth hole called Velder.

Now at the gates of a humble pub named The Silver Swan, Ara pushed the gates, glad to find herself in the warmth of a fireplace and people. The smell of roasted meat and ale impregnated the room, but, for all the days she had passed only eating half a slice of bread twice a day, Ara did not feel hungry. It had to be a result of her peerless training as a Haan. The young woman made her way through the crowd and sat in a corner, waiting for Hoffman to appear, or at least one of the merchants. Surely, they would get there sooner than later. Ara watched the crowd, spotting some patrons speaking much more quietly than the rest. Among them were a red-haired woman, a white-haired girl, and a burly, mustached man. They did not seem to be family, and even the way they accompanied their words with hand gestures was very restrained.

At best, Ara thought, they were acquaintances. The burly man called for a server and whispered something to her ear. The polite smile on the woman faded, and she made a gesture for the group to follow her.

I think they're here for the same reason as you. Follow them.

The Haan warrior got up, slowly dragging herself towards where the group was going. The loudness of the place played in her favour as her nervous breathing was completely silenced by the singing and cheers of the rest of the patrons. Other people gathered around her and the group, all of them following the waitress at different distances, some even stopping for a drink before making their way down a hall. The waitress opened a wooden door that looked to lead outside and simply showed the group of ten people off. One by one, the people shuffled into a room where only a handful of candles lit the place.

The room itself was bare and almost as humid as a basement, only furnished by empty barrels of ale and a handful of wooden boxes where each person sat. Ara took the darkest corner; nightmares still haunted her in places like this one. Still, she had come to warn every Elder citizen that their leader was the least of their worries. With demon sightings piling up over the years, Ara knew it was her duty to stop the same disaster from striking another town.

"Welcome, ladies and gentleman," Hoffman's calm voice said. His face was cleaved by shadows, making the glow of his eyes sharper. The man looked around him, "I believe everyone is here. Let's begin."

The white-haired girl stood up from the box she had used as a seat and took place next to Hoffman, "Alchemists all around town are struggling to get the materials we need for all kinds of potions. We will be all forced to close if Wally does any more dumb moves against Fluone."

Hoffman nodded, "Is Anne-Marie here?"

A young blonde stood up, "Yes. As the second representative of the Alchemist guild, I share the same concerns. Not only is food being rationed now, but we have been forced to let some of our food go to those good-for-nothing refugees. Good thing is, they don't care if it's gone bad."

Ara clenched her fists. It was not her fault she could not do much. The Steel Crosses in Velder had taken her spear away, just like they took the few valuables the other people in that boat carried. She wished to speak in the name of everyone, but Eun's voice spoke so coldly that she froze.

Keep quiet.

One by one, the other nine merchants that had gathered spoke. Each one of them had different concerns for their business, their livelihoods, and how even the most important merchants were growing as poor as the populace. Only the burly man, a representative for the Blacksmith guild, said that his partner was a very religious woman and was surely still praying to the El. He added that he doubted it would make things any better, but it kept her focused.

The panic at the church came back to Ara's mind and, just at that moment, Hoffman turned towards her.

"If Renata is in the chapel...Who might you be, young girl?"

Ara straightened up and got up under the cold stares of the rest of the merchants. They were afraid, some even angry. The raven-haired girl took a deep breath and began to speak.

"I...overheard things about this meeting and I thought that, even as a non-merchant, I had to say something about a disaster I lived through."

"Non-merchant?" the burly man scoffed, "Why are you using such a weird word, girl?"

Anne-Marie glared at her, "I've heard some of those talk like that. What in the Protector's grace are you here for, girl?"

The other people gathered around began to mumble in their foreign dialect among themselves, but their tone was enough to know that they were not exactly friendly towards her.

Hoffman, however, silenced the room with a single and deafening clap, "Now, now, everyone. I know we're facing hard times, but if one refugee came here to help, that's already one more ally for our cause. Feel free to speak, young lady."

His fatherly tone reminded Ara of her brother, and she nodded, suddenly feeling far more braver than what she had been for the past two years. She bowed to the audience and stepped to Hoffman's side, bowing again to thank the merchants for giving her a chance.

Then, she took off her hood and began to speak, "My name is Ara Haan. I know that Wally, your honourable leader, is driving your town into deep struggles. But, there is an even bigger threat over all of us: demons. Last summer, even I heard the news from Ruben and the missing El. This is exactly what demons do before they strike! You must talk to the guards, or Wally himself if you can. There is still time to stop the demons!"

She looked at everyone's faces, trying to find some friendly understanding, or at least some worry. Alas, they only returned either exasperated or hostile looks at her. Hoffman put a hand over her shoulder, pushing her back to the side.

"Well, it seems the foreigner does not have anything useful to add," he turned towards her and the same kind smile now looked no different than a mercenary's, "Please, young girl. Leave in the good graces of the El."

In good graces, my tails! You know what? That Renata is already dead and you'll be so-!

"Eun, please. Don't be rude," she hissed, silencing the ancient spirit immediately.

The merchants eyed her curiously, and Hoffman chuckled, "Well, whatever disaster you survived, it sure made you special, Ara. Go on."

Ara looked down, her cheeks growing red and tiptoed to the exit as the audience behind her chuckled. The laughter and smell of food was disgusting to her. Her stomach churned, and Ara went back into the chilly Elderian night, wondering if she would find anything close to a shelter for the night.


The final road to Elder was harsher than expected, all things considered. Luciela found little warmth underneath the woollen covers, and the fire, while warm enough to allow them to fall asleep, was always blown away by the unforgiving gusts of wind that the nearby storm gathered.

Luciela passed most of her nights barely finding any sleep and, while she was glad that was not the case for the others, she was annoyed to find that the self-proclaimed priest was awake when the cold ended her light sleep.

For most of the way, the demoness did not bother to say anything. In fact, she barely glanced at him before turning around and trying to find what little warmth she could. However, while the wind had stopped the night before their half-day of travel, the cold was so great she could not fall asleep again.

Shivering, she turned back, clenching her covers over her shoulders as she begrudgingly got as close as she could to the embers her natural enemy was trying to re-ignite. His bangs had grown almost as long as his eye-level and, without his usual side braid, Ain's hair almost reached his shoulders.

He glanced up at her and expertly stirred the flames with such precise and almost ceremonial gestures, she could have mistaken him for one of Hagen's hunters. It seemed to her she had seen him show this prowess before. Or maybe she had seen it in a dream. The flames burned anew, slowly growing again.

"Even if you didn't get the El, at least you know how to block the wind, demon," he whispered, "That's good. Everyone needs some heat."

"You still have not let that go?" she mumbled back, "By Sult, how insufferable can you be?"

The fire crackled silently between them for a long moment. She felt his cold stare on her, and once she could not stand it anymore, she glared back at him.

"What?"

"Maybe Miss Rena is right about you," he began, "maybe you can be honest. So, I will ask you something, assuming that you are tired enough to answer truthfully."

Luciela raised an eyebrow at him. What could he possibly want to know that neither of them knew about their people? Although she would love to tell the most horrible lies to him about whatever he would ask, Luciela preferred to avoid using the same dirty tricks Barkat used against her. Even towards a Celestial.

She would find a way to deal with him eventually. And it would be much more honourable than the way he and Barkat played with people's memories and hearts.

"Then, ask away."

Ainchase nodded, leaning back just enough for her to catch a glimpse of his gaze. Perhaps it was only because of the shadows of the fire, but she noticed a paranoid hatred rooted inside them. "You took the power of that elven grave. A power that is on par with mine."

The priest pulled his hood over his head, shrugging with half a grin, "If you wished to poison me, you would use such power, right? It would be discreet."

Luciela, for a moment, swore that Ain's voice was different as he continued. He dropped his arms and clenched his fists, speaking faster, angrily without ever increasing the low volume of his voice, "Everyone here is out of their minds, trusting you like a hero so blindly just because you saved them once. They wouldn't suspect a thing from you. You're lucky we haven't made it to Elder yet. Because the Church would hunt you down with just one word from me."

The demoness swung her tail menacingly, and another gust of wind brought complete darkness over the camp. Glaring at his silhouette, Luciela coldly replied before he continued on his rant, "I listened to a crippled Celestial out of good faith, prepared to answer a question, not to listen to a list of threats."

She got up and, as he lit the fire again, she looked down on him, "But to answer your question, Celestial, the power I gather is only for myself and Ciel. We promised to grow stronger to protect everyone in this group. I believe you have never promised such a thing. Or that you ever will. Isn't everyone just tools for you and your cruel goddess?"

Luciela spat her last words like venom, surprised to feel her heart squeeze just like when she remembered the most tragic day of her life. With conflicting feelings, wavering between tears of rage and a hateful scowl, the demon countess went back to her sleeping bag next to Ciel. It had already turned cold as ice, but her servant half-opened his eyes and gave her some space in his hammock. It was warmer and, as usual, comfortable to be near Ciel's embrace.

The morning came without notice and without a meal. The group quickly packed up their ice-covered quilts, covered themselves against the winds with scarves and hats, and mounted on the cart that an old, but still reliable stallion pulled. Luciela had the misfortune of having to sit between Aisha and Ainchase, as Ciel was the only one of the group who knew how to ride a cart safely. The first day ended almost in tragedy with Aisha on the reins. The so-called camels she knew were surely horrible beasts to use for transportation.

Around mid-day, as scheduled, the walls of Elder were visible, taking Luciela's breath away. The limestone walls rose far higher than those of the Soulscream citadel in Rigomor, back in the days of the Demon King. Golden arches and the click-clack of carefully tuned machinery reached her ears. The rich clothes the guards wore were on par with those of Velder and Senace, perhaps even fancier. As they reached the other side of the gates, however, the illusion of wealth and greatness Elder gave faded in an instant.

Luciela had to cover her nose to stop herself from gagging at the poignant smell of human filth all around them. Some homes had their windows broken, having been burnt or abandoned for years. All sorts of rotten fruit piled up at the corners of most of the streets, assaulted by rats or raven-haired people that spoke an Elrian so different, Luciela assumed they came from the northern Fluonian region. That was the only place she had not been in before in Elrios.

Once Ciel came to a halt in a nearby plaza, where the air was just a little more breathable, the priest was the first to hop off. If he was in pain by walking without any aid, he did not let it show.

Elsword called out to him, "Ain, what's the rush?"

The grey-haired priest looked back at him with his usual polite smile, "I'd like to visit the Elderian chapel, Elsword. I won't be long."

A young child stared strangely at Ain, almost as if he was waiting for him to lower his guard. "Big bro," he called him, "Big bro!"

The priest turned carefully at the child, briefly flashing a frown at the kid's filthy appearance. The group's clothes were far from being in their ideal shape, but that kid was wearing dirtier rags than a group of adventurers who had journeyed for months through a forest.

"If you're going to the chapel over there," the boy said, pointing at an alley just two streets across them, "Just be careful. They haven't cleaned it yet."

Luciela frowned at the priest as he thanked the child and walked down the sidewalk where he tried as best as he could to avoid the feces and glass shards over it. She glanced back at the kid and saw him holding the pouch of copper ED the priest carried with him. In the blink of an eye, she got off herself and grabbed the child by the wrist, making him fall with fright.

"Playing guard and thief?", she asked with an innocent smile as her grip around the child got tighter, almost strong enough to leave a mark, "I wanna play too!"

The boy let the pouch go and begged Lu with his eyes to let him go. She did so and was glad the pouch had fallen over the miraculous clean spot of the street. Luciela picked it up and gave it to Rena, "Take care of it. You know, these are our last coins. I'll go make sure this priest of ours doesn't get in any more trouble."

Rena nodded, "Take care too, Lu."

The demoness chuckled, "I always do, Rena."

With those final words, she dashed towards where Ain was going. She was not too worried about what could happen to him, but rather about what he would tell those priests. Humans and demons had not kept in touch for centuries, but with people like the Church of the El, one could never be careful enough. Luckily, Ciel had given her his protection insignia. She would only have to show that to the priests and, no matter how much Ain insisted, they would not pursue her. At least for a while.

Almost side by side, the two mortal enemies turned the corner where a wooden sign clearly indicated the presence of a chapel. Ain frowned at her, but barely slowed down at the increasing stench of...rotten flesh.

Luciela coughed, "Wait, priest, this smell-"

"It's everywhere, little elf. Sadly, we need to get used to it."

No. The streets smelt like waste. But this smell was unmistakable. As a demon, she would know it better than any other.

The smell got stronger, intoxicating. Finally, Ain's rush came to a screeching halt.


It's been a bit more than a month, but I'm back. :)

College forced me out of for a while and I must say I'm impressed to have gotten this many views from every single one of you. It was a really ray of sunshine in these uncertain times. Don't hesitate to leave your thoughts, it's always nice to read any and all reactions of my readers. That said, I got some good news: next chapter is about a quarter done, so you can expect it sooner than my usual updates.

Until next time!

~Kalafinn