After Cleo confirmed that Corvus wasn’t, in fact, still trying to kill her, she decided to get his story straight just after the sun had set. To pass the time, she set up camp and hunted for a rabbit to roast whilst Corvus tore chunks out of trees for firewood. There was a slight awkwardness between them, as merely hours ago they had almost killed each other, but Cleo decided to test the waters of what could be asked.

“What are you doing so far north?” She glanced at Corvus out of the corner of her eye as she turned the spit over the fire.

“Used to live here. This is the furthest south I’ve ever been.” Corvus replied, polishing Raven whilst his knives lay on the ground flashing lights from the fire back at him.

“So you're a sailor?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Was. I don’t think they would want me back after I killed everyone I ever loved.” He shrugged, pointing Raven forward, testing her aim.

“You…killed everyone you ever loved?” She spoke slowly, her hand drifting towards her dagger.

“To be fair, it was more like possession than me doing it, but its not like anyone believes voices in your head make you murder people.” Corvus sighed, loading two shots into Raven and holstering her.

Cleo’s eyes widened slightly. She opened her mouth but her voice caught. She lowered her gaze, taking a minute to compose herself while turning the rabbit.

“Voices, huh?” She spoke quietly, almost to herself. The barrier that she put around her emotions weakened slightly, exposing a sadness and loathing beneath.

“You ok?” Corvus asked. “Your eyes are red. You really have a thing for crying don’t you?”

Her cheeks lit up with embarrassment and she furiously scrubbed her eyes. She shot a scowl in his direction.

“What about you? Don’t they treat murderers like monsters this far north? Cindrea still has a strong presence here from what I know.” She shot back.

“Just because we’re close to you fire-folk doesn’t mean that we’re as-”. Corvus began.

Cleo's spear was off the ground and pressed against Corvus’ neck faster than he could blink.

Several seconds of tense silence gripped the air, broken only by the crackling of the fire. Small drops of blood beginning to seep out of Corvus’ neck.

“Say that again. I dare you.” Cleo was almost shuddering with rage.

“Right. Cindrians. Got it.” Corvus didn't turn to look at her. She was well within her rights to be angry about a racial slur like that, but Corvus didn’t want any more blood on his tattered clothes.

“Just because we’re close to Cindrea doesn't mean that we follow your laws.” Corvus corrected himself.

Cleo lowered her spear, her eyes still slightly stormy, and went back to turning the rabbit before it burnt.

“It's the same in the south, except colder and the frost-folk with their emotions and-”. Corvus stopped himself before he made her mad again. “And the Shivrians.”

He would’ve continued talking about the disagreements that the two most dangerous places have had over the years, but his throat caught for a moment when he talked about Shivron. The smiling face of a girl who was so familiar to him flashed across his memory, and tugged at his chest. That feeling was gone moments later, but it still put a stop to the conversation. The silence settled once more, quiet and calm.

Cleo glanced over, eyeing Corvus carefully, still not entirely sure what to make of him. She decided to ask more over food, taking the rabbit off the fire and breaking off a sizzling leg for herself. She offered one to Corvus, who took it in silence. After several bites, Cleo spoke up.

“So. You want to learn more about that anchor of yours?” Her gaze was steady and cautious.

“Yes. If it’s alive like that tiger of yours then will it attack me?” Corvus shrugged back.

A small smile crept on her lips, and she leaned back a little.

“No. Neither your anchor nor my tiger are alive. They're weapons.” She took another bite of rabbit.

“Weapons? That seems a little too simple for all the stuff that I can do now. Is my healing a weapon then?” Corvus scratched his head, thinking if he should start using his arms as clubs.

“I can’t explain everything to you here and now, but there’s the place where I live that can tell you everything. They start teaching the newcomers in about three months and it’ll take us a month or so to walk there, taking the bandits, predators, magical creatures and toll roads we need to kill or dodge.” She listed off the threats like a shopping list. “But for now, I’ll tell you the basics of what we are.”

Corvus swallowed the bone that he was chewing on and, after deciding that it probably wouldn’t kill him, sat forward, listening intently. Off in the distance, Corvus heard the flapping of a pair of wings as a crow settled next to the sleeping Gilgamesh on the branch of a tree.

“Back when this world was created, the land was whole and full of life. Then, as if from nowhere, magic arrived and split the land into the 4 lands we know today: Havare, the central mainland and largest of the lands where you live; Cindrea, the northern land of fire, where I came from; Shivron, the southern land of ice; and the islands of Ruin, far to the east or west, depending which way round the world you go and where ships go to die.” Cleo explained.

“What's with the history lesson? Everyone knows that, or a least everyone that had to listen to nobles flex their magic around.” Corvus complained.

Cleo shushed him, causing the crow that was eyeing the rabbit to recoil slightly.

“History is the foundation of who we are, so be quiet and listen.” She scolded, pointing the remains of her rabbit leg at Corvus.

Gilgamesh snorted, muttering something about snakes and wolves before settling to a noisy sleep once more.

Cleo chewed another piece of the sizzling rabbit and scratched her chin while she though of how to explain things easily. She swallowed and snapped her fingers, finding the right words to use.

“Once people started showing up, there were some who weren’t like the rest, who had amazing strength and powers. There's still some debate about how, but most people accept that they had an unnaturally strong connection to the magic that split the world. Some had more strength than others, but they were all considered incredibly powerful and dangerous. No matter when they were born or what their circumstances were, they always grew to be warriors, kings, heroes and tyrants, as if they refused to be anything less than revered. But when they died, their souls didn’t, the magic within them refusing to give up. So they reincarnated themselves into new bodies, sharing their souls and powers with a new generation.

“But something happened that no one could see coming. From this reincarnation, new magic sprung into existence. Their souls were so powerful that their lives and deaths stuck. Their new bodies couldn't use the powers that they once did directly, but instead had to channel it through life magic. And their deaths were so impactful to the world that they could be channelled through death magic. Almost none of them had enough power to use both though, only getting one or the other depending which was more closely aligned with them. Eventually, after several cycles of reincarnations, they could channel not only the powers of their original selves, but the lives and deaths of every other past life they had.

“But we’re only human, and eventually, those who channeled life took up arms against those who channeled death, as they both saw each other as wrong and abominations. It used to be that their battles wiped out towns and families whenever they occurred, but eventually, the people stood up and said no. There was a revolt, the people formed all their weapons and armies into one gigantic army, all the peoples of the world united under their own blanket of hate, and they wiped out both the wielders of life and death. They came back, but the message was clear, they had to be secret if they were to survive.

“They hid together in covens, caves and tombs, wherever the people that hunted them wouldn't look. The years piled up, life and death clashed in secret, favouring assassination over sheer power to help them hide. Then time made people forget that they were united, and they sunk back into war. The wielders of life took this chance, uniting themselves with the largest kingdom of Havare to protect themselves and gain power over the wielders of death, who decided to join their opposition. When Havare took victory in the end, they were convinced that death was the enemy, hunting them with the aid of life, driving them into secrecy once more.”

Silence settled over the fire, the crackling had gone quiet and the glow had dimmed so that Cleo’s face was almost completely hidden by shadow. Even Gilgamesh’s snoring was gone, as he watched the camp with an unreadable expression. The crow that sat beside him was staring, unblinking, its black eyes seeing everything. Corvus eventually broke the silence.

“Which are we then?” He asked, still staring at Cleo.

She didn’t answer, staring at the ground, lost in her own thoughts. Corvus snapped his fingers in front of her, bringing her back to reality. She blushed slightly and cleared her throat.

“Your anchor, my tiger and everything else I can do…”. She trailed off, trying to find the words.

She reached her hand out into the air, as if waiting to feel something. Her hand moved but it was not silent. A low scratch/hum echoed around the camp, as black lines inked from her index finger onto reality. This was different to before, when she was drawing a symbol, as it wasn’t complicated or full of intent. It was a sentence. It wasn’t anything that Corvus could understand, but the long string of characters hung in the air, perfectly still, begging to be read. She finished writing, and nudged the sentence in Corvus’ direction, floating it over to him. He stared at the characters, trying to make sense of them, but no sense would come. He shrugged in her direction. She sighed, as if doing this a thousand times.

“Read the whole thing, not just parts of it.” Her voice was that of an irritated teacher.

Corvus raised an eyebrow but looked back at the sentence anyway. Instead of trying to make sense of the characters, he looked at the whole thing as instructed. The letters shifted, vibrating in his eyes. There was a curious pulsing in his head as he looked at the writing closer. He began to make out words.

“An eye…ever watchful…on those who survive…Death…will remind…no one’s safe who's…alive.” Corvus spelled out slowly. He looked back to Cleo, her face slightly sad.

“Death. That’s who we are.” Her voice was tired and weary.

Corvus took all of that in, staring into the sky. His eyes glazed over and he looked over to Gilgamesh, who was sitting quietly, his eyes shimmering silver in the darkness. Corvus didn’t bother to try and imagine what he was thinking behind his ever shifting gaze. Corvus stood, removing his tattered shirt and jacket, much to Cleo’s surprise, almost choking on the water she was drinking. She coughed out her shock and took a breath.

“What are you doing?!” Her voice was a mix of surprise and shock.

“Changing.” Corvus shrugged. “Torn clothes are annoying, and I don’t have any spares. I’ll fix them in the morning.”

“Won’t you be cold?” Her face changed to slight confusion.

“Can’t get cold.” He said to the air, as he lay down on a patch of moss. “You can sleep if you want but you probably don’t trust me enough yet. Your choice.”

Corvus didn’t hear her answer, as he fell into the chasm of sleep almost immediately. An almost endless white void. There was nothing there. It was a sharp, almost grating contrast from the dark forest.

“I wouldn’t advise talking to me around her, or anyone for that matter. Wouldn’t want them to see you any crazier than you already are.” Gilgamesh’s smooth, perfect voice echoed around like they were in the largest chapel in existence.

“You’re just angry that she knows more than you.” Corvus countered, turning to where he thought the voice was coming from, but meeting only the same void.

“No one knows more than me, boy. Remember it well.” Gilgamesh threatened, suddenly behind Corvus, a terrifying undertone to his voice.

“How can I remember it when there's so much you're not telling me?” Corvus returned Gilgamesh’s steely gaze.

Gilgamesh went silent. His gaze hardened further, causing a ripple of hesitation in Corvus.

“If I told you half of what I know, you’d wish that bullet had killed you.”