Something Extra - Hungry Heart - Ch. 19 (Patreon)

Chapter One  / Chapter Two  / Chapter Three  / Chapter Four  / Chapter Five  / Chapter Six / Chapter Seven / Chapter Eight / Chapter Nine / Chapter Ten  / Chapter Eleven / Chapter Twelve / Chapter Thirteen / Chapter Fourteen / Chapter Fifteen / Chapter Sixteen / Chapter Seventeen / Chapter Eighteen 

Chapter Nineteen – The Burden

“How are you doing, mutt? Tired already?” Toru teased his companion, as he pulled hard and marched forward. The carriage behind him was heavy, loaded to the brim with the injured and part of the supplies that the townsfolk couldn’t carry themselves.

Varg’s burden was just as heavy, if not heavier than his, but the wolfshifter didn’t complain. He had picked up what was left of his pack without a word and a grim expression on his face, carrying each of them in his arms. Toru couldn’t stand to see Varg so worried, so he just teased him for lack of a wiser thing to do.

“Tired? I can outrun you any moment of the day,” Varg replied, but his voice was strained.

They were both strong and proud, but their animal bodies weren’t made to be used this way. Their paws sank into the muddy ground, and they moved slowly. The road to Fairside would be a long one.

Toru snorted. “Yeah, right.”

He wanted to talk to Varg, and not only to him; he could use Duril’s kind words in these times of need. Yet, he felt guilty for wanting so much. He was in one piece, regardless of what they had been through. But the people huddling against each other inside the carriage he was pulling, they had lost everything.

Agatha had said that she would tell him more. Maybe she knew more about the burden in his heart than he knew. The long journey to Fairside left him with plenty of time to struggle against the guilt gnawing at his heart.

He noticed a movement to his right and turned his head to see Duril who was weighed down with so much extra luggage that he had to walk bent over at the waist. Toru admired the healer for his strength. He didn’t know it, for sure, but if it weren’t for his kind disposition, the people in Whitekeep might have learned to fear him. Even now, he carried supplies that not even five of them could.

“How is it, Toru? Is it too much?” Duril asked kindly.

“It’s not,” Toru replied quickly.

“You and Varg are carrying the heaviest loads,” Duril said. “We’ll take a break soon, and I’ll see what I can do to make your burden easier.”

“Give me a kiss, and it might ease my burden,” Toru teased.

Duril laughed. “I know you. You’re strong. You’ll live until we stop. And then, maybe I’ll have something better for you than just a kiss.”

Toru snickered. “Better, you say? What could be better than one of your kisses?”

“Ah, I don’t know what you may be thinking of,” Duril protested. “But it will be something that will help you and Varg in this labor you two have undertaken.”

Toru would bet the healer was blushing and babbling to hide his embarrassment. Varg was right, a little, that they were both a bit too shy, but he wouldn’t let himself pushed around by a mutt with nothing but dirty thoughts in his head. They would get to it in their own time. And it would be worth the wait.

***

Duril left Toru’s side and walked alongside the carriage. Agatha was too old to walk, so she was perched on a large bushel of grain and was busy with a large smooth rock on which scribbling could be seen after taking a closer look.

“Agatha,” he called her name.

The old woman raised her eyes and examined Duril carefully. “You can call me ‘old witch’, too, you know?”

“No, I wouldn’t dare.”

Agatha laughed. “I know. Each of you has his part,” she said. A small silence followed. “It’s not easy, not even for them.”

Duril nodded. “I was thinking. Could you help me make some strength potions? For Varg and Toru. Neither of them would admit it, but they’re not built for this.”

“That’s true,” Agatha admitted. “But how come you don’t already know to make such potions? I thought you were Whitekeep’s most esteemed potion maker.”

Duril was secretly proud of the praise, but he wasn’t one to let himself be blinded by it, either. “For humans, yes, I know how to make them. But we’re not talking about ordinary people.”

Agatha waved her hand dismissively. “They’re just bigger; that’s all. You only need to add more of each ingredient.”

“How much more?”

“I’ll show you,” the witch replied. “Are we going to stop soon? We’ll put a kettle on and make some.”

Duril pondered his next words. “Are you all right having all of these people looking over your shoulder while you work? There must be a reason why you preferred to be left alone for your entire life,” he added.

Agatha pursed her lips, but her eyes were laughing. Duril couldn’t recall seeing such an expressive face on any person, older or otherwise. If one looked carefully, they could read entire stories in the wrinkles on her face. Maybe she could help them understand what was calling Toru to travel over the world.

“If you worry that something might happen to ruin our potions while making them because of some nosey good-for-nothings, don’t. I just don’t like being visited very much,” she said matter-of-factly. “Once my pot starts boiling, there’s nothing they can do to ruin it. Unless they dropped the ear of a dragon in.”

“The ear of a dragon?” Duril felt a small shiver run through his body at only speaking the name of that creature.

Agatha laughed again. “No chance of that, right? I enjoy my solitude, healer, but when destiny has other plans, not even an old witch like me can stand aside. Don’t mind my ways. We’ll do what’s right.”

“Thank you for your help.”

Agatha examined him with keen eyes. “You have a new gift now. It’s written on your hand.”

Duril nodded. “Yes, Lady Amethyst of Fairside gave it to me.”

“So, do you start to see it now?”

“See what?” Duril asked. “It was most gracious of her, and I’m thankful for the gift. I believe she chose me because I was there.”

“Ah, so you don’t think yourself ready to see it. But you are.”

Agatha took a small ball of red yarn out of her pouch. “Do you see this?” She unraveled the thread and began spreading its end by rolling it between her bony fingers. “All these tiny fibers make the thread. If you pull one hard enough, it breaks.” She illustrated her words by pulling one of the smaller threads. “But together,” she added and rolled them back, “they are strong.”

Duril watched the witch’s hands. Like always, one had to listen to hear what she wanted to say. “So it’s not only Toru’s destiny?” he asked.

Agatha’s face lit up with a smile. “I knew you’d be the clever one. Here’s something else for you to watch and learn.” She picked up the thread again, held it, and whispered something. The thread coiled and began swinging gently.

Duril gasped. Everyone called Agatha a witch, but few could claim that they had seen her doing magic. “What does it mean?” he asked in a whisper.

“Wherever the road takes you, it won’t always be straight and narrow,” Agatha explained. “And you should have figured that out by yourself already,” she added and frowned like a teacher finding out her student hadn’t learned the lesson.

“Will we meet obstacles along the way?” Duril asked.

“Many,” Agatha confirmed. “You may find your way around some. That’s up to you. Those two in front will always feel tempted to rush and push right through. But it’s not always the best of ways.”

“Can you see the future?” Duril had been wondering about that since he was a child.

“That’s some mumbo-jumbo,” Agatha replied. “No witch or wizard can. But a fortuneteller might.”

Duril could understand why some people gave up on talking to the witch. She rarely said something that made complete sense. “Are there any real fortunetellers?”

Agatha shrugged. “Those with foresight, yes. But don’t forget about the thread, healer. It can bend and it can coil, and all the foresight will not help if the whim of fate decides otherwise.”

“That’s something to bear in mind,” Duril admitted. “I will remember it, Agatha. Thank you, again, for all your help.”

“Ha,” she interjected. “My role is small. You’ll be the ones everyone will be thankful to, not an old witch who’s lived too long already.”

Duril thought for a moment, and then decided that it was his duty to ask. “Do you think you could teach me about other types of potions?”

“Are we talking… magic?” Agatha asked with a small, pointed laugh. “Since you were but a boy, you were taken with it, weren’t you?”

“How do you know?” Duril was rightfully surprised.

The children in Whitekeep feared Agatha. Some opted, as a test of courage, to run by her house and throw rocks at her windows. As a boy, Duril had wanted to be a part of the group, a friend with friends, so he had gone once.

Agatha had walked out of the house and scared them by throwing a handful of dust that lit like fire in their direction. The kids had dropped the rocks and run away, screaming, but not Duril. He had remained there, watching the witch, the rock still in his hand.

“Are you going to throw that rock?”

Duril shook his head, the words in his ear no longer seeming a memory. “Did you ask me something, just now?”

Agatha shrugged. “I have my own questions, yes. But I will only ask them if they need to be asked.”

He couldn’t completely argue with Toru about Agatha being a little not all up there.

He hadn’t thrown that rock, that time. That wasn’t him.

***

“What’s this?” Toru scrunched up his nose and sniffed the bowl Duril handed to him.

“It’s a potion that will grow your strength.”

Toru puffed out his chest. “I don’t need it. I’m strong enough.”

They were taking a well-deserved break, and everyone ate in silence. Toru and Varg shifted to their human form so that they could rest a little, too. Rory was busy treating Varg’s feet with a poultice prepared by the old witch. No matter how quickly they healed, the help was welcome.

The mutt clearly didn’t put up a front the way he did. But Toru’s stakes were higher. As the strongest and the biggest, Varg could afford moments of weakness, but not him. He was still a stranger to these people, and he needed to prove himself.

“I know you’re strong enough,” Duril said and took his hand, lacing their fingers together. “But think of this as magic. It will help you take us to Fairside faster. Most of us are not fit enough to withstand a long trip.”

From her corner, Agatha sighed and hiccupped. Toru narrowed his eyes. Just earlier, he had seen the old witch prancing around, gathering herbs, and mumbling weird words to her pot. If she made that potion, maybe he should be wary of taking it.

“I made it,” Duril said to assuage his worries as if he could read his unease in his eyes. “I would never give you something that’s not good for you.”

Toru hesitated for another moment, but then he grabbed the bowl and poured it down his throat in one go. He grimaced and belched loudly. “Eww, disgusting,” he decided.

Duril shook his head and smiled ruefully. “I will have a few more at the ready so that you can keep up your strength along the way.”

“How come you’re not torturing the mutt with your bitter potions?” Toru pointed at Varg who grinned broadly as he let himself be massaged by Rory who was fussing over him, most probably feeling guilty over suggesting this solution in the first place.

“Maybe I don’t need them that much,” Varg said smugly.

“Oh, no, I have plenty for you, too,” Duril contradicted him.

Varg’s face fell. It was Toru’s turn to grin with satisfaction. At least, the mutt was fond of gobbling down potions just as much as he was.

***

The weather cleared over the next days, and once they were close to Fairside, everyone’s disposition perked up, as well.

“It’s like a citadel,” Rory expressed his amazement, his eyes as big as saucers.

“A small one,” Varg corrected him. Rory was traveling on his back to keep him close company and tell him stories. “You’ve not been out of Whitekeep much, have you, Rory?”

“No, I haven’t,” the young innkeeper admitted. “This place is so large compared to our town.”

“The lord of the land has authority over the entire forest around it, and all the fields you see as far as your eyes can take you.”

“We’ll have all these fields to sow? Maybe I should have gathered more seeds when I had the chance.”

In Whitekeep, Rory was known for his green thumb, and many people asked him for good quality seeds. Although he couldn’t spare a lot of time tending crops, he had a small patch of land that he had turned into a garden.

He had had, Varg remembered. Whitekeep was in ruins behind them, but Fairside stood proud before them, the living proof that there was hope.

They approached the walls, and the guards opened the gates before them. The people inside must have seen them from afar because Onyx, followed closely by Zul and a few strong men, hurried to welcome them.

“What happened?” Onyx asked right away.

Varg stopped and their entire cortege ground to a halt. “Whitekeep was razed to the ground. These are the survivors, seeking a haven now, Lord Onyx.”

The men behind Onyx murmured among themselves.

Varg threw them a pointed look and snarled. “I know what you must be thinking. You’re barely keeping the souls inside fed.”

“Yes, Sir Varg,” one of them stepped forward and admitted.

Onyx straightened up. “Even so, it doesn’t mean that we would deny their request for sanctuary. Every friend of our friends is our friend, as well.”

“We come bearing gifts, not only misery. Rory,” Varg said.

The young innkeeper slid from his back and made a bow in front of Onyx. Varg had tactfully put Rory in charge of speaking for Whitekeep, since he was much closer in age to Onyx than the mayor. The lord of Fairside would be more inclined to feel at ease around a boy only a few years older, whom without a doubt he would quickly befriend.

“I understand that there’s a shortage of seeds for growing crops, my liege,” Rory began. “We have enough to start some. And flour, potatoes, and grains. Everything we could save, we brought with us.”

Onyx threw a long look at the carriages stuffed to the brim. He noticed the injured wolves right away. “Is that your pack, Sir Varg?” he asked.

“What’s left of it, yes,” Varg replied. “If you could accept them, they would pledge allegiance to your house.”

Onyx set his chin proudly. “I do accept them. Zul, go prepare everything needed for our guests. We’ll find places for everyone. Men,” he addressed his companions, “find roofs to put over everyone’s heads by tonight.”

Varg nodded shortly. The young lord had learned a lot during a short time. Everyone moved and began unloading the carriages, helping the injured, and bringing in the supplies.

He was surprised when Onyx came close and wrapped his arms around his neck, grabbing at his fur. “I’m glad you came back, Sir Varg. I was afraid you wouldn’t,” he whispered.

Just as fast, he let go and began shouting orders at his men. Varg felt proud. He had done a good job with that pup.

***

It felt like a war council, the way they were gathered around a large table. Maybe it was, since the latest events had proved to them that a peaceful life might not be in the cards for them for the foreseeable future.

Agatha was perched on a high chair and shifted in her place, mumbling under her breath.

“What is it, old witch?” Toru asked her directly.

Varg smiled, in spite of the severity of the situation. The tiger in that uncouth youth never slept.

“This chair is too damned hard,” Agatha complained.

“Zul, bring the old witch a pillow,” Onyx ordered.

Varg couldn’t tell if the young lord enjoyed calling Agatha that or if he thought that was how she should be called. Either way, the youngsters at the table would not be easy to rein in if they proceeded in such a manner.

Beside him, Duril turned his head to hide a smile, as well.

The rabbitshifter scurried away, and a tense silence filled the room. Agatha stopped fidgeting and watched them all closely with keen eyes. Varg couldn’t repress the feeling that they were being weighed and measured. Whatever it was the old witch wanted to see in them, he hoped they were all worthy and she found it.

No one said a thing until Zul was back with his arms full of pillows. Dutifully, he offered one to each of them, a sign of how excellent the service he always provided was. There was soft rustling until everyone settled down.

“Well, are you going to tell us why I brought curses and darkness and whatnot over everyone?” Toru began, addressing Agatha directly.

“Toru brought what?” Onyx asked.

Agatha harrumphed loudly. “He didn’t bring anything, young lord. Tigers should learn when to keep their mouths shut.”

“But it’s true, isn’t it?” Toru continued. “I just set foot in Whitekeep, and rocs cover the sky. I come here and fall through a hole in the ground, and Whitekeep is no more.”

Onyx turned toward Agatha, his eyes full of questions. “Toru doesn’t mean that, does he?” he asked.

Agatha waved. “He doesn’t. He’s just running his mouth because he doesn’t have eyes to see.”

“I have eyes!” Toru pointed at his face. “And I’m telling it like it is, old witch.”

Varg put one hand on Toru’s thigh in warning. “Let her tell us what she knows,” he whispered. He would have to have a long conversation with Toru later, to convince him that he wasn’t to blame for anything he wrongfully thought himself responsible for. However, unlike Agatha, he didn’t have the knowledge of why all those things had happened and why danger and misery had befallen Whitekeep.

“Then she better start talking,” Toru said back, loud enough for the witch to hear him.

Agatha stared at them again. “The same things would have happened anyway.”

“How do you know that? Do you see the future?” Onyx asked, his eyes as big as saucers.

The young lord of Fairside had seen plenty of strange things, and yet, he was still fascinated with having a witch sitting across the table from him. Varg hoped Agatha would tolerate the young people around her enough to share her knowledge as quickly as possible.

“No. But I know how to read the signs. It is because of you, young tiger,” she addressed Toru directly, “that Fairside was pulled from the clutches of darkness.”

Toru pouted and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “All I did was run around with the nutty rabbit and fall into a hole until Varg and Duril came to save me.”

“Would they have been here if it weren’t for you?” Agatha asked.

Varg admired her patience. Normally, he would have expected the witch to display her legendary short fuse by now.

“I suppose not,” Toru replied, still unconvinced. “But Whitekeep --”

“You couldn’t have prevented that,” Agatha said. “And you saved what remained of it, the people still alive.”

“So few of them,” Toru said with determination.

Agatha examined Varg’s face for a moment, her clever eyes searching for something. He wondered what she wanted.

“If I hadn’t come --” Toru began again.

“If you hadn’t come, Whitekeep and Fairside would have been condemned anyway. Sir Varg,” she turned her full attention to him, “haven’t you noticed lately how little game was in the woods surrounding Whitekeep?”

“I thought it was the fault of long winter,” Varg replied.

“And you, healer,” Agatha addressed Duril, “how often did you need to venture far into the forest for the herbs you needed?”

“More frequently lately,” Duril admitted. “I thought the same as Varg.”

Agatha snorted. “Then take a look outside.”

They all exchanged a few glances but heeded the witch’s words.

“What do you see?” Agatha asked.

“It’s spring,” Onyx replied.

The witch smiled. “Exactly! Whitekeep is several days away by horse, but why would the weather be so different?”

“Are you asking us?” Toru didn’t give up on his belligerent attitude so easily. “You’re old and a witch!”

Onyx snickered, but Zul fretted by his side, whispering something in his ear, and he fell silent right away.

“Ah, so you want me to tell you everything when you have eyes to see?” Agatha countered him.

Varg put one hand up. “Toru fears that he is to blame. Don’t be so harsh on him.”

“I don’t fear anything,” Toru protested. “It’s only that she doesn’t want to tell us what’s going on.” He pointed at Agatha.

Varg caught his arm and pulled it down. “She would if we only let her. Now, speak,” he told the witch.

Agatha rose on her feet in her chair and leaned over the table. She mumbled something and pulled a pouch from one of the many wrinkles of her robe. As her incantation continued, she spread the contents of the pouch on the table. It looked like ashes, and Varg remembered when he had seen that trick before.

“I can’t see much, but look here.” She gestured for them to come closer, so they all straightened up in their chairs and leaned forward. “Fairside is the only place I see now that is free of darkness.”

The gray map appeared covered by smoke, the way the ashes had arranged themselves. But in one corner, Fairside stood proud, with its castle keep and its grounds, houses, crops and forests. It appeared in crude detail, but one would have had to be blind not to recognize it.

“Is this real magic?” Onyx asked in wonder.

“My foray in divination practices is limited, I’m afraid. I do not have the gift of foresight as rich in me as it is in others,” Agatha explained. She once again trained her eyes on Toru. “This guilt you feel inside, young tiger, do you feel it as a burden?”

“You’re damned right,” Toru snapped.

Agatha shook her head. “That’s not your real burden.” She moved her hand over the ashes, and they moved, coiling like snakes of fog. “This is. The world from here to who knows where is under threat.”

“Is it because of me?” Onyx asked in a pained whisper. “Because I opened that gate to the underworld in my foolishness? All those centuries ago?”

Agatha waved, as if attacked by pesky flies. “No. If it hadn’t been for you, the darkness would have found another silly boy to try and channel its rising from below.”

“But it was me!” Onyx complained.

“So what?” Agatha turned toward him. “You were but a child. Are you a child still, Lord Onyx?”

Varg wanted to protect the pup from the old witch’s words. But she was right.

“No, I guess not,” Onyx replied in a quiet voice.

“Don’t guess. You’re in charge of these lands. They will crumble if you’re not careful.” She wagged a gnarled finger at him.

“Oh, just stop scaring the boy,” Varg intervened. “He will be fine. Only a few days have passed since he took charge, and look at how well-organized this place is.”

Agatha smiled slyly. “He is a clever one, our young lord, and made to rule.”

Her words seemed to help Onyx regain his composure. He stiffened his back and sat straight in his chair. “Thank you, old witch,” he said solemnly.

“Now, listen to me, all of you. Lord Onyx, there is a burden on your shoulders, too. Here, in the heart of your castle keep, lies hope. Our adventurers here,” she pointed, one by one, at Toru, Varg, and Duril, “waged a battle against evil and won.”

“I was there, too,” Onyx said proudly. “And this helped,” he added while pulling out the necklace around his neck and showing everyone the titan’s eye.

“You hold on to that gift from your late mother and father,” Agatha advised. “It will protect these lands and the people living here.”

“Are we in danger?” Onyx asked.

“Not now, as far as I can tell. I knew Fairside had risen again, but I feel not one trace of darkness left behind. You succeeded in banishing it for good.”

Duril sighed in relief. He had remained silent throughout the heated conversation, but Varg knew the healer had to be as affected as everyone was by the revelations presented to them by Agatha.

“Can you tell us more about our enemy?” Duril asked.

Agatha brushed the table with her wrinkled hand, scooping the ashes back into her pouch. “It lives below, deep down in the belly of the earth. It yearns to rise to the surface. It might have belonged here, a long time ago. Its mists began to spread, and are now like a veil shrouding the world.”

“But Fairside turned into Vilemoor centuries ago,” Onyx stated. “Are there other places cursed as ours was?”

“I wish I could tell you that. But its power grows, and because of that, Toru left his home and came here,” she replied.

“So, I didn’t bring it? It brought me?” Toru asked.

Agatha nodded. “Yes and no, young tiger. I’m sure it’s not happy that you’re here. That’s why it tried to trap you and get rid of you once you set foot in Vilemoor. Little did it know that it would just have to give up on its foothold. That great your power is.”

“My power? But I’m not anything special. I’m just a shapeshifter. Like Varg. And Onyx. And Zul. Although he doesn’t eat meat,” he added.

“How special you are, you’ll learn as you follow the call of the road.”

“Yeah, what’s that?” Toru asked. “What’s this scent that calls me?”

“Your power comes from somewhere. You feel it, and you must reach it, this source of your true strength. Only then, will you know that you can defeat this curse of darkness.”

“And until then --”

“Until then, you have your stalwart companions with you. They will protect you and help you clear the way.”

Toru looked at Varg and Duril. “So, I pulled them into all this trouble? It wasn’t by chance?”

Agatha sighed. “Your stubbornness tires me, young tiger. Both Varg and Duril had a choice, and they made their own decisions. Now, they have a responsibility, too.”

“But I’m the biggest. When I’m a tiger,” Toru added quickly. “I’m supposed to protect them.”

“And you will,” Agatha said. “You, rabbit,” she called for Zul, “bring us some food and wine. Ask Rory, and he’ll give you everything.”

“Should we splurge when the people here have so many needs?” Duril asked.

“For a long time, it will be the last feast you’ll remember,” Agatha said. “And I’m hungry. Are you going to make an old witch go without food for long?”

Varg covered his mouth and smiled. In her coarse manner, she looked after them. She had told them things they didn’t know, but there was so much more they had to uncover on their own.

***

Later that night. Toru sat on the bed beside Duril, and Varg flanked him on the other side. His heart felt heavy. “You’re in this because of me,” he said softly.

“We’re in this because we want to be,” Varg contradicted him, right away.

“Yes, that’s true,” Duril added.

“Agatha doesn’t know where we should go from here. How are we going to find our path?” Toru said, giving voice to his doubts.

“The scent you sensed before, do you still smell it?” Duril asked.

Toru shook his head. That made him restless, too. “I haven’t felt it since we found Whitekeep in ruins. Could it be that I lost it?”

Varg placed a hand on his shoulder and shook him gently. “According to Agatha, it’s your destiny. I don’t see how someone could lose that. Tonight, we rest, and I’m sure you’ll feel it again, soon enough.”

Duril touched his knee. “You don’t have to feel guilty about anything. If it weren’t for you, things would be a lot worse.”

“I’m speaking for the both of us, I believe,” Varg intervened, “when I say that we are honored to have been chosen to be your companions.”

Toru looked down, overwhelmed by their kindness and friendship. “The old witch didn’t say it, but it will be dangerous. We don’t know anything about the road ahead, or my destiny, or whatever this is.”

“That doesn’t mean that we cannot learn,” Duril replied. “Even if your scent doesn’t guide you for now, there are many places we can travel to and learn more.”

“To the east, Shroudharbor lies,” Varg said. “It is a place rife with merchants from many lands and people from all walks of life.”

“And I heard they have a library there. And a few scholars,” Duril added. “We can always ask for their advice.”

“I’m sorry my nose betrays me,” Toru blurted out.

“It’s not your nose at fault,” Varg hurried to put his mind at ease. “Your destiny might have its own meandering ways.”

“Then we should head to Shroudharbor?”

“We could stay here and wait for your nose to give you a hint of where we should travel next,” Varg replied. “But are you sure you want to help tend the crops all day long, get fat, and maybe have to eat a lot of vegetables?”

“No way,” Toru protested. “Since we’ll be on the road, we’ll hunt, right?”

“Of course we will,” Varg confirmed. “Now, we should all hit the hay. I don’t know how you all feel, but I think we should get moving. If what Agatha says is correct, our enemy doesn’t care about sleeping.”

“But I will put it to sleep for good,” Toru said with conviction. “And I don’t like staying long in one place anyway. Are you two fine with choosing the road? Both of you?”

Duril smiled. “Of course. I’m ready for another adventure.”

“Even if it might lead us into other dangers?”

“It cannot be helped, right? That’s why it’s called an adventure.”

Toru couldn’t agree more. And the feeling from before that he could count on others and be all right with it, washed over his heart, and put his mind at ease.

TBC

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