Celeste walked until she couldn’t anymore. Night had fallen and she didn’t make it to the crossroads Mid spoke of. She didn’t think she passed them. It was cloudy, so she didn’t have moonlight to help her with her surroundings. Still, she somehow managed to gather the proper materials and start a fire. She pulled the blanket out of the pack and wrapped herself in it as the fire grew. Once it was warm enough, she went through the pack. Indeed, Mid stuck a bottle of some sort of liquor in there. She pulled it out and put it aside. There was also a crystal, which surprised her.

Goblins had never been one for using crystals. The mineral required for crafting a water crystal was extremely difficult to access, even for them with their swimming skills. As such, they never used them in their everyday life. According to the book, the crystal gathering increased once peace was reached between humans and goblins, but they were still the rarest crystals around. He never heard of time crystals then.

She pocketed it. It was the same color as the crystal she saw Rusty use, so she assumed it was a fire crystal. It probably would’ve been easier to use it to than to attempt to light it the usual way in the dark. But a fire crystal might come in handy later.

Celeste stared at the fire and thought about what happened during the day. Part of her was glad that Derrick was still alive in some way, but there was a small part that said it would’ve been better if she had never found out what happened to him. That if he were dead, then she could’ve had least made peace with that. Then he wouldn’t have rejected her the way he did. Owain had yet to make an appearance, so he probably felt the same way…

She shook the thoughts away and grabbed the bottle. Never did she think that she would have to drown her sorrows with drink, but her usual support was the very thing causing the distress and she didn’t have anything to busy her hands with. Having some would probably help her sleep at the very least. Everyone she knew that drank alway slept a long time after their drinks. The hangover didn’t sound appealing, but Celeste determined she could handle that in the morning.

She uncorked the bottle and took a swing. It burned, but wasn’t so bad once it went down. She wondered what the flavor was briefly before taking another swig. After the second swig, she felt warm. But her throat protested and she gulped down some water.

“You ought to pace yourself a bit better there, miss.” A man’s voice stated somewhere behind her. “You’ve already taken two big swigs. Any more, and you won’t remember to put out your fire when you go to sleep.”

Celeste stood up, held the bottle in one hand and whipped out the goblin dagger with the other. The man had been standing right behind her and the fire illuminated him, though it was dark enough that she couldn’t make out a few details besides the fact that he had a beard and eyepatch. He blinked with his good eye.

“I’d turn the blade around if you want to hit anything. Or you’re wielding it in a reserve grip and you’re trying to defend. In which case, you’re holding the dagger in the wrong position. It should be at an angle, not straight out. And your stance is all wrong.”

She looked down and saw that he was right. The blade pointed at her instead of him. She quickly turned it around.

“I don’t have any money or whatever is used as currency these days, so move along.” She was not in the mood to put up with a bandit, especially one that was taking her so lightly.

The man held his hands up in surrender. “I don’t want to rob you. I’m a traveler, like you, and I saw your fire. I just needed to make sure you weren’t a bandit . I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

Celeste glared at him before lowering her blade. If he wanted to attack her, he would’ve done it while her back was turned. She nodded before sitting back down. He came a little closer, though he stood a respectable distance away from her.

“So, what’s making you hit the bottle so hard?” The man pointed to the bottle still in her hand. “I mean, it’s not a rare sight, but you seem to be agonized about something in particular.”

“Like I’m going to tell some stranger I nearly stabbed.” She didn’t mean to snap at him, but she felt highly irritated. Maybe some of that was the drink talking, though she didn’t feel different from before she took the drinks. She was still miserable. “My misery is my own business.”

“Fair enough.” For some reason, the fact that he was being agreeable annoyed her. She couldn’t help but feel that he was just playing with, much like Malatar or one of his underlings. Maybe he was an Inquisitor too.

“What about you? Going anywhere in particular?” It wasn’t likely that he would reveal any information to her, but Celeste felt the need to try.

“At the moment, no.” He sat where he was with a small grunt. “You? Going back home?”

“I don’t have a home.” She answered as she put the bottle down. Alcohol would not be good in this situation and it wasn’t helping her feel any better either. “But I’m going back to where I’m staying.” At least she hoped she was going the right direction and hadn’t gotten turned around at some point.

“I’m surprised you’re by yourself. It’s risky for any one to travel alone, especially at night.” He commented as he held his arms out to warm them up by the fire. When he did that, his cloak lifted a little and she could see the mace he had concealed under it. He really could’ve attacked her if he had wanted to when he snuck up on her. “Did you run away?”

Celeste didn’t answer and cast a glare at the man. Now that he was a bit closer to the fire, she could see him a bit better. He looked to be around the same age as Davik, somewhere near his mid-forties, if not a little older than that. The stranger was certainly as worn as Davik, though he didn’t bear any scars. No, she couldn’t think about Davik. It only made her miserable. She reached for the bottle once again. One more sip couldn’t hurt. The stranger watched her.

“You know, that’s not going to help. You’re just going to wake up miserable and hungover and your problems will still be there.”

Yes, he was probably right, but at this point, she didn’t care if it let her forget for a little while. But she did let go of the bottle. It would be a good idea to stay sober until the stranger left.

“Then what do you suggest, stranger? I won’t be able to sleep, I know that much.”

The stranger mused for a second, rubbing his hands together. It wasn’t that cold out, but there was still a slight chill in the air at night.

“I find that talking about what’s bothering you helps take a load off your chest. But your business is your business.”

Celeste sighed. That sounded like something Owain would say. He was all about talking. She wondered if he was still like that or if he had changed drastically as...him. Something told her that he had.

“I’ve… been away for a while and just now came back.” She figured that telling him the most basic facts wouldn’t hurt anything, especially since she was so lousy at lying. It would give her practice for other busybodies. And he was too tolerable to be one of the Inquisitors. “Everyone I knew completely changed, even those who were closest to me.”

The stranger nodded in understanding, but let her continue uninterrupted.

“They’re the ones that are driving me to drink. You see, when I came back, only one of them contacted me. I was overjoyed, but they told me that we were through, and after everything, we’ve been through too! They just threw me out without explanation and only a half-hearted apology.”

“And the other one?”

Celeste shook her head. “No word, but I know where they are at least. Doubt they’ll have any better reaction than the other one though.” She removed her sleeping mat from her pack. “I know it’s been a long time and that people change, but I think I’m owed a bit more than “Glad you’re back, now goodbye forever.”

The stranger moved his hands back to his cloak and looked in the fire. He seemed to be thinking hard about something. After a bit of staring, he turned his attention back to her.

“This first one, he...they rejected you outright?”

She caught the slip, but didn’t think much about and nodded. “Said that they’d do me one last favor for what we had, but after that, not to expect anything from them. Not that I’d probably enjoy their company with what they’ve become and them hanging around the Renewers…”

“Ah, I see. I’m supposing that the one who you haven’t seen is with the Revivers.”

“Yep.” She popped the p, a sure sign that the alcohol was beginning to affect her speech. Celeste lay on the ground to stop the world from spinning. “I haven’t met many of them, truthfully. But I heard they don’t like strangers, so I’m not expecting much.”

“That much is true. Constant spies slipping in with refugees will do that to you, especially if you’re pretty sure the other side wants you dead.”

The stranger didn’t belong to either camp or he wouldn’t be out here or talking this way about his camp. Then it occurred to her that this stranger was the first human she had a long conversation with that didn’t involve her being emotionally traumatized or overly cautious because she knew they wanted something. It was like talking to Owain. He was always a good listener and often offered her sound advice. She sat up and squinted at the stranger.

“You’re starting to remind me of someone…”

“I get that a lot.” He admitted, but he did shift so that his face was away from the fire and she couldn’t see a lot of it from where she was. “Know many people with an eye patch? There’s quite a few around here, mostly thanks to the civil war and the conflict that followed.”

“Do you have a scar under your patch from whatever happened to your eye?” She questioned. If she felt like she could be stable, Celeste would’ve moved to where she could get a closer look at his face in the firelight.

“It wasn’t from a slash or anything. More liking a… stab into my eye itself with a long skinny object. No scars. Do you want to see?”

“No thanks, I’m good.” That was the last thing she wanted to see. “So what side did you fight on in the civil war?”

“Does it matter? That was two decades ago. Why, you with the Unification group?”

Celeste shook her head. “No, I’m not. I just don’t know much about the civil war.” Maybe if she found out what went down, she could figure out what changed her brothers so much. “Unification? I thought the Revivers killed them all?”

The stranger shook his head. “I heard it was a ruse. The camp is much bigger than that group and they’re being led by someone of noble lineage. I’m sure that will get Davik’s feathers ruffled. He tried to kill them all. I think that was what soured so many people off him after the civil war.”

That didn’t sound like Derrick at all. Then again, he had never been one to forgive easily. But surely he didn’t think every single noble was worthy of death...

The stranger frowned a bit. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

The statement confused her until she noticed that she was crying. She grabbed the bottle and took one last swig.

“It’s not you.” She defended as she capped the bottle once again. “It’s...everything. Everything is terrible and I don’t know what to do.”

“Getting drunk certainly won’t help, believe me.” The stranger stated. “It looks like you could use some sleep. I’ll go camp somewhere else.” He got up. “But it was nice meeting you, Sleeper.”

He left before she could ask how he knew. Somehow, she managed to make herself comfortable and shut her eyes. Her stomach was already turning from the alcohol. Maybe she had overdone it.

She did not sleep that well, weeping and feeling sick during the night. It was only when the sun rose that she went to sleep.