Getting out of the reliquary took far longer than getting in. Granvich’s wound was far worse than expected, irritated and infected with the unclean water of the subterranean swamp mixed with some foul fluid the demon produced from glands beneath its fur. Lubina would not gain consciousness for several hours, though we worried she wouldn’t ever.

  That evening, we camped in the reliquary's shadow, its stone facade an anchor for the tarps I used to fashion a large tent. Outside the confines of this most humble abode, I started a fire and encircled us in shavings of iron and sulfur. Granvich helped prepare defensive sigils known by scholars to displease the undead and the unholy, some associated with the Vanbatar and some with the Elder Gods. The act surprised me.

  “Is this not some form of blasphemy for you?” I wondered, afraid that his fear had compromised some foundational belief.

  “The order does not recognize the Saintess Fraust, dear friend, no matter what the Church declares. We are an enclave, and Saint Olovf was a friend to all. He revered the Elder Gods for the magnificence of their creation in the Valley of the Vanbatar. No ill will existed, as far as he might be concerned, between the old ways and the new.”

  “My ancestral gods killed yours—Olovf’s. How could anyone ever truly forgive such an act?”

  “What has happened in our past need not define us. This is true for a person as much as it is true for a god or a society. Our tragedies do not define us, False Leper, just as the scars on your face do not define your spirit or pleasant nature.”

  “Did you not hear the ramblings of that beast below?” I asked angrily.

  “I heard them. What of them? Do you expect I should believe it? And let us pretend I did. What do your sister's nefarious deeds and deals have to do with you? No one can hold you responsible for every sin your ancestors committed. The sins of your sister are no different.”

  I did not like his words, and I still do not, even after so much time has passed. Yet I remember them like branding, pressed upon my weak flesh or etched into the stone of my heart. Granvich was a fair man, an honest man. His fairness and honesty, unfortunately, did not help him make friends and allies. Not powerful friends anyway, as we could come to find.

  Irritated by his honesty, I regrettably snapped, “Quiet now, I cannot stand your ramblings on morality any longer. I will not hear it. Tend the fire and mind the girl.”

  His understanding of my outburst was only further aggravating. His simple, gentle response—a smile, nod, and gentle, “Be well, my friend. Rest best this evening. You’ve more than earned it.”—left me with a guilt so intense I could taste it in my mouth and feel it like sand between my teeth.

  He resembled my father?. Never willing to permit another misfortune or misery, even when needed and deserved. People often want to feel the dread of their lives; it's a natural part of grief. How any creature could learn without facing the consequences of their actions or the world is beyond me. But my father—and Granvich—firmly believed that guilt and shame were weights best dropped from the yoke of one’s burden.

  As a child, I was told I was responsible for my little sister. My sworn duty was to ensure my little sister's well-being in my father's absence, but that duty ended when she committed a wrongdoing. All this despite knowing that I had helped shape, raise, and make her who she would become.

  I went to bed that night seething over Granvich’s magnanimous nature, upset over Lubina's condition, and confused by all I had learned. I contemplated the very reasons for my journey and why I had set out on it.

  In truth, most of all, my travels began because I am a vagrant: a respectable enough man, but a vagrant, interloper, drifter. I had no discernable skills to speak of. No valuable working experience or trade. I had no friend in a prominent place to help me find an apprenticeship in the city. I could barely hunt, hardly farm, and perform no carpentry or stonework. Indeed, the only thing I knew I could do was walk, and talk, though I was and still am not an expert conversationalist.

  Most of all, I thought about Azrealiya, whom I had searched for over the last two years. Had she been in Garivansk all this time, digging her malformed roots deep into the city? I don't know what happened to her during that time, but I now know it's best that I remain ignorant.

  Another restless night passed, and when I awoke the next morning, Lubina was stable and conscious. I used the more expensive and tasteful of our rations to prepare a minor breakfast for the girl, and as she scarfed down the eggs and ham on toast, we spoke.

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  Lubina began her tale. “A few weeks ago, the people of Vaastok lost their minds. Fear, I mean, not something demonic. Something distinctly human. People like you settled in the hills alongside us, and my father helped welcome them in. But fear stirred many people, and something angered them. The villagers came in the night, raided and burned down homesteads, and killed any who held onto the ways of the Elder Gods.”

  As she struggled to tell the story, I offered a gentle touch. “Take your time, girl.”

  “A boy, Torda, and his family took up on our property. They didn’t survive, but the mother lived only long enough after the assault to speak with me.”

  She recounted the Elder woman, drawing blood from her fatal wound and spreading it across her tongue. I understood what she meant, as all the Elder worshippers would. A gift passed from mother to daughter since the beginning of time, created by the Willow Mother. It is said her weeping drooped the branches of her divine form, and as its leaves touched the earth, they encountered a pregnant woman, bestowing her with magic. This gift transmits only through one medium and men cannot receive it. But before Lubina, I had heard no tale of a girl outside of the Elder receiving its bestowment.

  “It was a gift,” I told Lubina, “A loving, passionate, trusting gift.”

  “I know not how to use it,” Lubina admitted.

  “Nor do I, little one.”

  “Perhaps, my friend,” I turned my attention to Granvich now, “We might find an Elder woman who understands it?”

  “You wish to consort with a sorceress? Aren’t such magicks outlawed by the Church?”

  “That much is true, even amongst my order. But I fear the girl will need it. She is now marked with the blood of evil after slaying that creature. We both know the truth we haven’t told her.”

  “What?” Lubina asked.

  “They will come for you now, we fear. Just as they come for me.” I answered.

  Finding a woman to teach Lubina the Elder Ways would have to wait. My sister’s presence in Garivansk demanded our immediate attention more urgently. Our journey's continuation, at its usual pace, would require seven more days, not accounting for our altered circumstances. The winds had changed, just as Granvich said. That year, the fall shortened by several weeks, and a great snowfall started the day after we left the reliquary. As the sudden storm overtook us, we hurried off the road and into the protection of the forest.

  “We won’t reach Garivansk until the thaw at this rate.” Granvich said.

  “Unfortunately, as much is true as it seems. We don’t have the supplies to make it through, nor do we have the clothing to keep warm.” I responded.

  “There is only one choice, son.”

  I snapped a bundle of twigs and tossed them onto some kindling I had prepared. While Granvich and I talked, I showed the basics of starting a fire to Lubina. She watched along curiously, absorbing the information with a dedicated focus I would not have expected.

  “And what choice is that?” I asked.

  Granvich pointed off toward our south. “There is an ancient Delm’ri gate.”

  I stopped blowing on the fledgling fire and looked at him, and Lubina did the same. Our expressions were less than amused.

  “Is now really the time for fairytales?” Lubina asked.

  “It is no fairytale, Lubina. Though the essence of those stories is true. The world’s beyond the Delm’ri gates are… less than hospitable. Dangerous things lurk within those causeways these days, now that no one exists to oversee them.”

  “Why exactly do you know the location of a Delm’ri gate?” I asked, looking back on it, far too accusatorially.

  “After you and I had met, a rumor spread of Delm’ri woman who had taken refuge in the forests closest to the mountain’s ridge. I was younger then, and more curious, so I made a summer hike intending to find her. But she found me first, while I washed my hands and took a small moment of leisure by a brook. She made no threat to me, but I was stunned by her sudden appearance. I heard none of her movement and knew not how long she had stalked me through the woods. But she called out to me gentle, curious why I sought her. Admittedly, I had no answer, and I told her as much. The Delm’ri have all right to suspicion of humans, but she had little of me, and believed my words for the truth they offered. We spoke for some time, during which she confessed to me she was seeking the western shores—the same as you, son.”

  He motioned toward me with a smile, “You and her may have found much joy in speaking, I think. But, regardless, when I asked her how she had traveled so far from the lands of Delm’ri, she told me that long ago her family helped in the construction of a gate that led out to the Valley of the Vanbatar, though it was different in those days. The mountain's shifting soil and rock have buried the gate, but it should emerge somewhere just beyond Garivansk.”

  “An interesting story, certainly.” I was skeptical. I did not hide as much. But Granvich had no reason to lie, and we had no other option to explore. I removed what extra layers I had and wrapped Lubina in them. “Let us warm by the fire for a few moments, and we’ll set out. Can you get us there?”

  Granvich sat next to us as the babe of a fire burned properly. “I can get us there.”

  I suppressed my suspicion and caution at that moment, focusing instead on little Lubina. Our little mage hadn't mentioned her desires since becoming our companion, and I knew I had to address them. Delicately, I asked her, “Are you fine with this?”

  “With what? The Delm’ri road?” She asked.

  “With all of this,” I responded, motioning out toward the world at large.

  Her words came like a barrage of arrows. “Where else do I have to go, False Leper? Do you plan on abandoning me to an orphanage? Is that why you’ve asked now that we’re nearing Garivansk?”

  The memory of my uncontrollable grin, a mixture of fear and admiration, remains. The girl’s tongue was sharper than any demon’s talon that had crossed my skin. She later admitted to purposefully making me uncomfortable in that moment, wanting to throw me off my ‘stoic understanding’ and see how I behaved when I was being like other simple folk. She made it clear that she wanted to remain through everything. This pleased both Granvich and me, as it did the girl.