Keya stared unblinkingly as direwolves ate her saviour. It had all happened so fast. She could not remember when she climbed the tree, but now she clung numbly to it, her nails digging into the bark.

Her sight was magnified, but the world was mute. She was abstractly aware of the ringing in her ears, yet this was of least import. Only the image of jaws tearing flesh and crushing bone filled her awareness. Vision was riveted to the scene of wolves feasting.

After a while, they lay down, perhaps temporarily satiated with their meal. There was noise a little way off too, but she ignored it. Dumbly, Keya continued to stare at the burnt head of Sir Steward.

First, the goblins came and ripped her from her home. They almost had their way with her too, and now direwolves! It was too much. She could fall if she chose, let the wolves have their fill. Her limbs said otherwise, and at the base of her thoughts, something savage screamed: No!

So that was where she remained. Not fear but animalistic revolt held her in place. Keya Ces would wait for as long as it took for the wolves to leave, days if necessary. One thing was absolute: the gods would not have her. I refuse.

An eternity or no time at all passed as something began incessantly gnawing at her senses. Which one was it? Sound? A voice? It came from below. Reluctantly she tore her sight away from death to focus on the inconvenience.

Numerous things happened in the next instance. Seeing a man standing casually right beneath her sent involuntary spasms through her strained limbs. She tried to scramble for more purchase but to no avail. Her disobedient body had already dislodged her. She swung, seeing the branch she had straddled and fell, yelling all the way down.

Her impact felt a lot softer than anticipated; warmth and fabric arrested her fall instead of grass and cold soil. Then arms grappled her from underneath. An unhinged shriek erupted from her lips, and she scrambled away on all-fours.

“Mother fucker!” said the stranger, “I think I cracked my rib trying to catch you! Evy!” The man massaging his chest paused as if listening to someone. There was no one else around. “Oh, thank god. You know if these numbers are correct you’re really light for your frame. Avian bones maybe?” Keya remained wordless; there was something crazed about this man.

It hardly mattered; the wolves would come for him too. Except they lay still, and Keya now noticed the blood staining their pelts in places.

“Hello?” He waved a hand before her eyes. “Earth to Keya. Do you read?”

She understood the gesture, but clearly, he was the crazed one. His words sounded like Common, but the names and phrasing made little sense. Why did he know her name? She narrowed eyes at him.

The man stood up and shifted slowly back. He had short-cropped hazelnut coloured hair and was cleanly shaven. His skin pale and unblemished, although clearly a human well into adulthood. Undoubtedly a nobleman to be so fair and untouched by time and hardship, just like Gavin. Nerves frayed at the thought.

Plain light leathers clothed him, of the type any woodsman might wear. His pack too was a simple canvas affair. Shifting to the side, he retrieved a strange black artefact from the ground with an ornate barrel and handles protruding haphazardly from its length. He held it with practised comfort. The enigmatic man followed her eyes, realising her unspoken question.

“Um, yeah, this? Just ignore it for now?”

Next, his face screwed into an irate frown and looked away, communing with the air once again. “No, I wasn’t talking to you, Lee. Just shut up for a second and let me report. Ja, the numbers don’t lie, we got a rogue storyline for sure. The protagonist blew his head off, and the only major character we know looks to have gone feral.

“Where’s a fucken Ex Machina when you need one right!”

He surveyed the area.

“It’s hard to say; I’m no trauma counsellor.” Indicating her as he spoke. His language was nonsensical.

“Ja, we’re in the red, though I don’t know why we shouldn’t just call it black. Maybe Evy is being sentimental again.” He paused and seemed thoughtful.

“Give me radio silence for now; gonna see how much I can salvage.”

Dragging his full attention back to her, she saw pained eyes. The black artefact was absently slung on one shoulder as he crouched to appraise her.

Time stretched to discomfit and then beyond to inurement all the while them both remaining silent. It was a detached look he gave, though not unfriendly. His marine blue eyes mulling over her as a healer might assess someone ill or injured.

His gaze lingered on the strange black jacket gifted from Gavin. It fit her diminutive figure well, though she knew not why. A good omen she supposed, but that was before…

Their eyes met, and long moments passed. Thoughts played behind those cool irises as he shifted casually, perhaps weighing options. The tension in her body ebbed piecemeal as they watched each other and Keya’s breath slowed. Finally, he gave a slight smile and shrugged.

“Okay, Ms Keya Ces. There are many ways this conversation could go. We are very far off-script, and I have no idea what to say, so I give up. Instead, you ask the questions.” He waited.

“A-Are you going to kill me, or do you mean me harm?” Knowing her fate was paramount.

“No and no.” There was a hearty chuckle as he shook his head.

“Are the direwolves dead?”

“I fucken hope so, please don’t tell me you have undead in this world!” He sighed. “No heartbeats and they’re not moving. That’s the best I can do.”

She shook her head. “I know not what nightmarish land you hail from where the dead can move. If the spirit no longer fills their chests and their hearts cease to beat, then they are dead. Did you kill them?”

“Those two, sure.” his thumb pointing half-heartedly.

“Are you a mage?”

“Nope.” He looked cheerful at the fact.

She narrowed her eyes “Then how did you kill them? They died where they stood, where were you?”

“Ah, right.” He nodded and glanced down at his black artefact. “It was… magic, you got me. No way I could have killed them without magic.” came his sing-song reply.

“So, you are not a mage, but you admit you use magic?”

Squinting one eye closed. “Yes?”

“You are a strange man. Just who are you?”

“Oh, good! An easy question!” Honest relief flooded his face. “Call me Jon or Kel.”

“Jon or Kel?”

“Jonathan first name, Kelly last name, take your pick.”

“Alright, Jonathan, how do you know my name?” Fortune or fate had toyed with her quite enough. Nothing more would be left to chance. This ‘Jon’ was most certainly a peculiar and dangerous man. A dash home through the forest alone was a gamble she would willingly take. However, this man’s suspicious magicks, should he turn them on her, could thwart any attempt. Indeed, she was cursed this day.

“Kak, we’re back to the difficult questions.” He stood up, scratching the back of his head and ruffling his hair slightly. “Magic!” Pronouncing such an unabashed lie, he puffed his chest in pride.

“There is no such magic to scry one’s name. You lie human. How long have you stalked us?”

“No! I would never! Okay, kinda.”

Awaiting better explanations, Keya fixated on him.

Foregoing all pretence, he threw hands up dismissively. “Fuck, shit, bliksem, donner, kak, fok!” Innocent soil received his frustrations with kicks and stamping before talking to the sky. “Okay Kay, fuck it. I’ll give you what I can, but I can’t tell you everything, because you won’t understand everything.” he pointed. “Fuck I’ll be lucky if you understand anything, but the god of this world appears to have given you a brain so here we go!”

“I do not understand what my brain has to do with it,” said Keya.

“You see! Fucken medieval anatomy, I’m fucked. We’re fucked,” said Jon.

“You are a mad man!”

Lifting a finger as if to calm his thoughts and pause, he began again. “That man,” gesturing to the grisly mess that was Gavin, “was the saviour of this world. Not just your saviour, but likely this whole land. Call it ‘destiny’ or ‘fate’, or whatever funny name you people use. This was supposed to be the late Mr Gavin Steward’s rise to fame. The god who created this world deemed it so.

“Not any more! Why is that you ask? Because this mighty god made a mistake, at least one, probably more. He set the odds too slim, tweaked his adversaries too strong, and failed to account for that fucken root! After that, Gavin only needed a nudge. A flap of a butterfly’s wings in some far off place, to make him stumble. Like a visitor from another realm, for example.”

“You’re a god?!” asked Keya.

“Wait, what? No! Hell no! I just told you your world is ending, and that’s what you got from this? No, I’m not a god damned god!”

“But you know the god that created this world, and it is just one?”

“No, and yes, and neither.” Replied Jon. “Let’s just stick with the analogy. What you need to know is this: A bad person or a bad thing is coming, and it’s gonna win because no one will be there to stop it.”

“Like the war up north?”

“Maybe, I don’t know. Our knowledge is incomplete. We knew about Gavin, and we just confirmed you.”

“‘We’? Why am I important?” asked Keya.

“I have helpers; they speak to me. You will not see them. Let’s call them spirits for now. As for you, I don’t know. Could be you did little. That’s unlikely. I am well acquainted with the gods’ creations; they follow patterns.” said Jon. “Could be you needed Gavin to unlock your power, or you managed on your own. Let’s hope for the latter, though that’s of little consequence now. However big a piece of the puzzle you and other comrades were supposed to be, Gavin was undoubtedly the largest by far. So I think we’re fucked, or more specifically you’re fucked. I can check out, though it’s gonna look bad on my record.”

“You speak of events as though they have already come to pass,” said Keya.

“Not anymore, they haven’t anymore…” He trailed off, scanning the surroundings. “Go or stay, Keya. It matters little at this point. I have clean up to do; there are rules regarding what I leave behind, so I’ll stay the night. You’ll likely not make the village by nightfall, and you look like shit anyway. Make your call.” He levelled his eyes at her. “There, exposition done! I’ve got bullets and casings to find.” And with that, the lunatic sauntered off.