It was still dark when Sylvia woke her sworn. They packed up the tent and got two days worth of food from Frida. Sylvia also stowed the sack of dried moss, and hurried away to refill her water skin. She had every intention of leaving with the first light of day.

“Where are we going?”, Afi wondered while he fastened the saddle bags.

“To Nyberg”, Sylvia answered curtly.

Afi’s hands stilled for a second. He pointedly avoided Sylvia’s gaze and continued his work. “Do you really think that is a good idea?”

“I want to see it. And I want to take some heirlooms”, Sylvia said.

Afi turned to her and hesitated. “There will not be much to see, much less to take. Your village burned to the ground.”

“What? You set fire to Nyberg?”, Sylvia asked. Anger seeped into her voice.

Afi shook his head. “No. That mage did.”

“What mage?”

“The way I heard it, they were disposing…killing all the villagers when an old man stepped out of a temple. He raised his arms for prayer, but then he screamed at the top of his lungs.” Afi raised his arms demonstratively. “He called, ‘Fire’, and all around him it erupted, engulfing the whole village in flames. They said it was like taken out of a fable.”

“You are trying to tell me Priest Ryther was a mage?”, Sylvia asked. She gave him a tried look.

Afi shrugged. “Whatever happened, it scared the horses, I can tell you that. We had some come running back and thought the raid had gone bad. I heard an archer took that mage down.”

Sylvia frowned at him for a long moment, before shaking her head. “I do not believe you.”

Afi shrugged again, motioning toward Natta. “That is what I heard. If you do not believe it, let us go see for ourselves. I am just trying to warn you. Do not get your hopes up. No matter what we find, it will not be pretty.”

“I know”, Sylvia nodded. She pulled herself onto Natta’s back. “Let us go.”

Afi mounted as well. It had taken a day or two, but Rise had accepted her new rider. Not only did she not shy from him any more, she even helped him up when he struggled due to the bandaged arm. She leaned slightly toward him to ease the manoeuvrer, and then carried him carefully through the maze of cloth and fire pits. Reaching the edge of the camp, they passed the protective row of wagons and horses.

“Headed out for a ride?”

Sylvia turned her head. On top of the nearest wagon sat Kaija, legs crossed and eyes glued to the edge of the woods.

“Yes. We will be gone for a day or two, but we will catch up before you reach the eastern shore.”

“I will come with you”, Kaija declared.

“That is not necessary, but thanks”, Sylvia declined.

“You trust that rat to keep you safe?”, Kaija questioned. Her disgust was evident in her voice.

“If I did not trust him, I would not have taken him under oath in the first place”, Sylvia answered easily.

The exchange left a scathing silence between the three of them. Afi kept his head down to prevent making accidental eye contact.

Kaija shrugged. “If you say so. I can do nothing but warn you. Just keep in mind that the roads are not safe, and that rats are only trouble in the end. Please make sure you come back in one piece. Yri will have me sit guard for a week otherwise.”

“Will do”, Sylvia agreed. Spurring Natta on, she rode into the forest with Afi at her back.

They steered clear of the cobbled road, only using dirt paths, and cutting straight through the forest whenever viable. The uneven ground slowed their progress, but it was also the most direct path, and arguably the safest one. Using the mountain as guide whenever they reached a clearing, they found the local river before dusk. Riding alongside the meagre trickle of water, they encountered the familiar low bridge leading across it. They decided to take a small break there, before braving the final stretch. After a few slices of bread and a hearty amount of cheese, they crossed the road and made their way through the dense woods.

When they closed in on Nyberg, the stench of ash and rot attacked Sylvia’s nostrils. The smell hung so thick in the air, she could almost taste it. The first building which came into view was the stable. The building had collapsed in on itself, but not all of the construct had gone up in flames. While most of the wood was charred and splintered, the far end of the building was still brown. A few crooked beams stuck out of the rubble, and even a section of the roof was intact, if no longer suspended above ground.

Sylvia stared at the scene in disbelief for a long moment. Then she looked to Afi, her eyes wide in bewilderment.

“I told you”, Afi shrugged.

Sliding out of her saddle, Sylvia let go of Natta’s reins. The horse left her side at once, approaching the paddock. Leaping over the remainder of the gate, the steed rounded the building with purpose in his step. Frowning, Sylvia followed the animal. She climbed the gate and crossed the paddock. Coming to Natta’s side, she saw what had caught the steed’s attention. Rebecca’s riding jacket still lay here, trampled and dirty, but intact. Crouching down to pick it up, Sylvia also spotted something blue within a cavity of the collapsed stables. Excitement flared to life in her.

Falling onto all fours, she reached out, squeezing her arm between the broken wall and the roofing. She could only touch the item with the very tips of her fingers. Frustrated, she pressed her cheek against the wood and groaned, stretching as far as her limbs would go. She nudged the item and it shifted away another centimetre. Shooting the piece of roofing a determined glare, Sylvia sat back up and grabbed the splintered wood. She pushed with all her might. Of course, nothing moved. Afi came to her side and took a hold of the beam as well. He took a deep breath and pulled. The muscles in his arms tensed, and the roof lifted ever so little. Quickly darting her arm back in, Sylvia grabbed the blue item, and then wiggled away from the building so it would not come down on her head when Afi let go.

Clutching the leather binding to her chest, Sylvia grinned over both ears. “Thank the gods.”

“What is that?”, Afi asked bewildered. “A book?”

“Yes. Sharp observation”, Sylvia joked. “I cannot believe it is intact.” She turned it over in her hands, opened it, closed it, and turned it again. There was not a scratch on it. Not an edge was singed. It looked like it had been handled with great care for the past century.

Afi leaned in, eyeing the slender tome. “What is it doing here?”

“I left it here.”

Sylvia grabbed the riding jacket and tucked the book into one of the deep pockets. After shaking the fabric out and patting away the worst of the dirt, she pulled the jacket on and felt around in the many pockets. On the right, her book lay safe and sound. On the left, a piece of dried apple was carefully wrapped in linen. It was still good. At her chest was the key to the mayor’s house. In the inner pocket, there lay a small cold object. Producing it, Sylvia frowned.

To her surprise, the item was not metal. It was a round disk of pitch black stone with the layout of Nyberg etched into it on one side. On the other side, the emblem of the mayor’s house was protruding, the mountain up top, the river running down from it, and the silverwood tree at the heart of the forest, represented with a few squiggly lines. She felt over the protruding symbols. It was blackstone, no doubt. Who would be able to work with such a hard material? She looked at the layout of Nyberg again. The disk had to be fairly old. It showed only the mill, the temple, and a handful of buildings. Two farms were indicated along the edge, Sylvia's home and the farm of the baker’s son. Nyberg had grown significantly since. Pocketing the stone, Sylvia shook her head. It was strange, but she had more pressing matters to focus on. They could not afford to stay very long. It was not safe.

Looking around the other side of the building, Sylvia found the skeleton of a horse and a human, side by side. Crouching down, she inspected the remains. The human’s leg was broken in two places. It was her, no doubt. Picking the skull up, Sylvia brushed off the dirt and grass.

“Family?”, Afi asked.

Sylvia merely nodded. She carefully placed the skull in her saddle bag and then mounted Natta again.

They took the crooked road into Nyberg proper. The village had not fared any better than the stables. The entirety of Nyberg had burned down. Even the ground was black. Buildings had collapsed, trees fallen, and skeletons lay bare among the ash. Only the temple was still standing in all its glory, if a little toasted around the corners. The wood had morphed in the heat, but it had not caught fire. It looked like someone had grabbed the edges of the building and twisted it.

Trotting through the devastation, Sylvia’s frown deepened. Whatever had caused this, it was not simply fire. The armour of the dead had melted over the skeletons like wax. Swords had united with the gravel of the road. The steps of the temple, however, were pristine. Priest Ryther lay slumped over on the steps, arbalest bolts sticking out of him like a morbid porcupine. He was entirely untouched by flame.

Sliding out of her saddle again, Sylvia approached the hooded figure. She crouched down at his side and carefully turned the body over. Some of the bolts broke off in the process, and a horrid stench rose into the air. Ryther’s face was a gruesome sight. His eyes were wide and his mouth hung ajar. The skin had begun to rot away, and insects had made it their home. Braving the smell of decay, Sylvia searched the tatters of the long cloak. She found the key to the temple and placed the key to the mayors house in its stead. It seemed rude otherwise. She also found a few coins that she figured he would not need any more.

Standing up, she fit the key into the lock, and pushed the door open. It groaned displeased, but granted entrance.

“You are not really going in there?!”, Afi asked baffled.

Placing a hand on the door frame, Sylvia watched the familiar shimmer ripple through the material. “Do not worry. This is whisperwood. It will hold.”

Afi tensed when Sylvia crossed the threshold. He wavered for a moment, cursed to himself, and then jumped off Rise’s back to follow his liege. He eyed the wood suspiciously. Several beams looked about ready to come down on their heads. The building seemed to contemplate its options. Reaching out, he traced a finger over the grey door frame and saw the whisper glittering across the surface. He peered inside. To his surprise, he did not find himself threatened by the space. He had a feeling the temple would hold for at least as long as Sylvia was inside.

“How does a village afford whisperwood?”, he questioned.

“Priest Ryther said he whispered it himself. Of course we all thought he was just telling fairy tales. But apparently he was a mage, so…”

Sylvia turned to the centre of the room and bowed to the space in reverence. She waited patiently until she felt the air around her relax. First then did she walk past the melted candles and empty benches. Standing at the stone altar, she wiped the dust from it, revealing the faint outline of a hatch. Fitting the key into it, she unlocked it and removed the slender contraption of limestone and wood. Within the altar lay a grape sized crystal on a bed of silverwood twigs. The twigs were still fresh, and new leaves were budding. Reaching inside, Sylvia took the smooth crystal. It felt warm and nervous in her hand, like a fluttering bird. A grey mist swirled within the crystal, as though it were hollow and someone had trapped steam inside. The yellow light it emanated danced over the walls, clinging onto the whispered beams.

Afi stared at the crystal in wonderment. “Is that a god?”

Sylvia did not respond. A tear fell onto the little crystal. She was trembling.

“Are you okay?”, Afi asked, placing one hand on her shoulder.

Shaking her head, Sylvia wiped at her face. Afi hugged her, rubbing over her back. Sylvia's fingers closed around the little crystal. “He did it”, she whispered. “He actually went and did it.” Looking up at Afi, she shook her head. “I never believed him.”

“It is a tall tale to claim yourself a mage”, Afi offered.

Sylvia looked down at the god of Nyberg. The hectic energy slowly seeped out of it. The mist settled into a static cloud. It was waiting, anticipating. Holding the crystal to her chest, Sylvia murmured a prayer. “God of Nyberg, hear my plea, answer these prayers three. Make grass grow and water flow. Let the farmer sow his seed and keep away the nasty weed. May grain turn into bread and keep this little village feed.”

Magic built in the air around Sylvia. She could feel the god respond. The soothing energy engulfed her soul. She looked down at the grape sized vessel. It seemed nearly dormant now, only giving off a faint glow. She wrapped a few of the silverwood leaves around the crystal and carefully placed it into the inner pocket of the Rebecca’s riding jacket, together with the mysterious blackstone. It seemed she had overlooked quite a few mysteries.

Looking for the door to the back, she found it had burned out of its hinges. She peered through the opening. The library was reduced to ash. Rows and rows of tomes were lost to the world. The Mathematica, The ledgers of Nyberg, The Origin of Fri, all gone. Only a few scraps of cover remained. Clearly, only the very temple itself had been whispered.

Afi stayed near the altar, peering up at the slanted roof again. “Let us leave”, Sylvia said, and he agreed wholeheartedly.

Leaving Nyberg proper, they made their way into the woods again. Sylvia lead them on foot, retracing the same old path she had taken a million times before. She zigzagged past blackstones, avoided familiar dents in the ground, and stepped over thick roots.

“Here would be an alright place to rest”, Afi suggested, pointing to a nearby bed of dead moss.

Sylvia shook her head. “A little further. I know a place.”

“It will be dark soon”, Afi urged.

Looking up, Sylvia noticed the rapid dimming of the light. She had been here so often, she could navigate in the dark, but Afi could not, and neither could their horses. She broke off a fresh branch from a nearby tree. Wrapping some moss around it, and tearing off a small piece of sticky fire she had kept, she made a torch. It burned bright and hot, illuminating the undergrowth. She led them over ever more mossy ground. The horses slowed their gate, placing every hoof with care as the ground sighed under their weight. Eventually, they reached a tree that stood out among the rest. It was not notably larger than the rest, but in contrast to the surrounding brown and green, it was entirely grey, from the bark to the leaves.

Afi eyed it for a long moment. “Silverwood, I presume?”

“Yes. It is an important place, so please treat it as such.”

“Can I touch it?”, Afi asked.

Sylvia chuckled. “Yes, of course. Just show reverence.”

Afi stepped up to the grey tree. Placing his hand on the bark, he frowned. “I thought it would be colder.”

Sylvia laughed at that. “It is just called silverwood. It is not actually silver.”

“I know that”, Afi grumbled. “Still”, he huffed.

Sylvia turned over a large stone to reveal an area where the dirt lay bare. She placed the torch down there. Adding some more moss and dead branches, they made a fire for the night. Once they had light and heat, Sylvia brought out the skull from her saddlebag. Kneeling down by the tree, she gently urged some of the roots aside, revealing a cavity in the ground. The roots slung around several blackstones, building a dry hiding place. She pulled out the thin lilac blanket, which lay hidden inside, and unravelled it. A small pouch fell from the cloth and she looked down at it in surprise. After wrapping Rebecca's skull into the blanket, she opened the pouch and a pained smile ghosted over her lips. Looking at the lilac blanket, she shook her head.

“You should not have.”

“What is is?”, Afi asked.

Producing a slender silver chain from the pouch, Sylvia held it to the light. A small green crystal was embedded in the heart shaped pendant. “A birthday present”, she sighed. “Rebecca said she had found something special, something for me to remember her by when we are apart.” She shook her head again. “Fool.”

Pulling the chain around her neck, she fumbled with the clasp. Afi came to her side and helped her push the hook into the small eye. Thanking him, Sylvia looked down at the silver heart. The crystal rested right over her soul. It felt warm against her. Taking a deep breath, Sylvia let out one more sigh, before focusing on the task at hand.

Making sure the blanket sat snug around Rebecca's skull, she gave the bundle a kiss, and then lowered it into the ground. She eased the roots of the silverwood tree back to protect it. Hands lingering on the roots, she closed her eyes and prayed. She asked Gaia to take Rebecca back into her arms, to protect and cherish her. The magic in the air soared up and ruffled the silver leaves. Afi observed the branches, and noticed a soft shimmer dancing along them. Sylvia sure knew how to pray. He watched her, felt the intensity of her emotions. Sadness pooled in his stomach. Care so warm it almost burned over his skin. Suddenly, it all stopped.

Turning away from the makeshift grave, Sylvia hid the jewellery under her collar. She got to her feet and began to set up camp. They pulled out their bedrolls and sat down to eat. A few raindrops stirred the canopy above.

“Maybe we should set up the tent”, Afi suggested. He eyed the tight blanket of leaves overhead. He could not catch a single glimpse of the sky.

Sylvia waved a hand. “We just have to stay here under the tree.”

She packed up the last of the cheese and bread and stowed them again. Rise stopped nibbling on a nearby bush and gave Sylvia an expectant look.

“Sorry, no oats today”, Sylvia said. She stroked a hand through the white mane.

Natta nudged her as well and she remembered the dried apple. Pulling the treat out of Rebecca's jacket, she distributed the slices evenly between the two horses. That put them at ease. Rise turned her attention back to the bush. Sitting back down by the fire, Sylvia added another handful of branches. Rubbing her hands together, she held them close to collect heat, and then placed them on her neck, sighing in delight.

Afi sat silent for a long moment, staring into the flames. His eyes slowly travelled to Sylvia, and then to the silverwood tree, to the roots which covered the blanket and the skull resting inside. “Who was that?”, he finally dared.

Sylvia looked back at the tree as well. “Rebecca AriIngemar, daughter of the mayor.”

“What was she like?”

“She was the most beautiful woman in all of Sev. She was graceful and strong and clever. She had emeralds for eyes and silver for tongue. Her skin was snow and her arms were stone. She was a lady, but she could keep up with any craftsman. She could read, could lift a tree, and she could ride like the wind.” Sylvia stopped herself. She searched Afi’s face.

His eyes were serious and focused. Not a hint of amusement played over his face at her glorifying description. She did not sense anything but sadness and care from him.

Sylvia let her gaze fall into the flames again. “Natta belonged to her.”

“I am sorry”, Afi offered.

Sylvia shook her head. “Her murders are dead. She has been avenged.”

Afi felt her anger tug at his soul for a brief moment. He nodded. He had nothing to add. Neither did Sylvia. Instead of trying to find something more to say, she crept into her bedroll.

“Do not stay up too long.”

“I will keep watch”, Afi determined

“There is no need. It is safe here.”

Afi shook his head. “We do not know that. I will keep watch. Make sure to rest. You barely did last night.”

“Suit yourself”, Sylvia shrugged. She closed her eyes.

Afi sat silent for a while, but before long he spoke again. “Sylvia?”, he tried in a soft voice.

A grumble of acknowledgement came from the bedroll.

“Why do you trust me?”, Afi wondered.

Sylvia opened one eye, inspecting her sworn. He was tense, his shoulders drawn up and his face wrinkled into a frown. He was not scared now, but he was sad. His eyes were downcast and he was prodding the fire absent-mindedly. He reminded Sylvia of a large hound, scary to look at but soft and warm to the touch, and instinctively protective.

“Come here”, she prompted.

Afi came to her side. He was watching her now, searching her face for clues.

“Closer”, Sylvia said.

Leaning down, Afi met her eyes. He struggled with the contact, with the intensity of his oath. Sylvia did not waver. She stared straight at him, into him. Afi felt his soul respond, aching in his chest at the sad look in her eyes.

“What is wrong?”, he wondered.

“What if I catch a cold?”, Sylvia wondered.

Afi felt a shiver run down his spine. He had an urge to wrap himself around her, to shield her from rain drops or wind, from anything and everything. Before he could act or answer, Sylvia chuckled.

“Uncomfortable, is it not?”

“What?”, Afi frowned.

“One pack. I used the kitchen knife, the one with your blood on it. Given the choice between all Wolves and only you, you seemed like the lesser evil. That way, I could still take revenge. I just had to spare you.”

Afi’s eyes widened. “You…”, he began, but he did not even know what it was that he wanted to say. He was dumbfounded. Sylvia was bound to him, as he was to her. He laughed instead, and shook his head. “You are clever.”

“I know”, Sylvia teased. She reached up and stroked a hand over his cheek. “I was so worried about you. It felt like a piece of my soul was missing after Surtearv. I did not know where you were, if you were okay, if you were even still alive. I kept wondering, but…”, she trailed off and shook her head. “Assuming blood oaths are at all alike another, you feel the same. You feel what I feel, do you not?”

Afi nodded.

“To be completely honest, I took you under oath not only because you saved me, but because I could not bear to see you suffer. I could not watch you die. It would have killed me. I trust you completely, because I know that you feel the same. Be it fate or stupidity, we are part of each other now.”

Tugging at his tunic, Sylvia had him lie down beside her. She curled against his broad chest. Afi watched Sylvia close her eyes, observed the way her breathing grew slow and heavy. All the while, he did not dare to move.