June was awoken by a commotion. Fearful murmurs and shouts of ‘Look there’. She rubbed the residue from her eyes and grabbed her staff to see what had happened. She smelled it before she saw. To the east was a building cloud, mushroom shaped and fiery. The Heldrazi Peak had erupted. She felt its power from here; the biggest eruption to date, and ahead of schedule too. She recalled with a sting of fear that their caravans’ path took them near the forest.

She hurried to the front of the caravan, crossing the catwalks that connected each car, ignoring the strange looks she got from the other passengers. The owner stood on the roof of the foremost car with a farglass cupped against his eye. He put it down when he heard her approach.

“The geomancers were warning us it was bound to happen,” he said.

“We should take an alternative route,” June said.

“No can do. Terilein is north of Heldrazi. We’d have to swing around some part of the plains. Could add weeks to our journey.”

“I can feel it, sir. This one is larger than the one a century ago. We don’t know how far the fire could land.”

“Listen, madam priest-” He hopped down from his vantage to the open cabin where June stood and stared straight into her eyes. She shrunk away. “-some of these merchants are peddling perishables. This is new, barely developed land, remember? Everyone is risking a lot investing business here. We can’t take a detour.”

“But sir! If we underestimate the eruption, we might lose the whole caravan!”

“Alright, how about this. Let’s vote on it.”

“Pardon?”

“Call the vote tonight. Convince the merchants to take a hit on a maybe.”

“I-I can’t speak to these people. It has to be-”

“The thing is, girl, even if you’re right and you have a point, if you don’t even have the gumption to try to convince others, you’re just a falling tree in the woods.”

June’s grip around her staff tightened. Her jaw trembled.

“Then you’re complicit,” she said, mustering every ounce of bravery she had, “If we lose the caravan because you didn’t listen to me, you’re also at fault for refusing counsel from the Order.”

“You’re a quill pushing scribe.”

“I’m a fully-fledged Priestess of the Order.”

The owner glared at her. He towered over her by a head and his thick eyebrows magnified his disapproving mien. Then he backed off, shaking his head.

“Fine, I’ll talk to them tonight. But you have to be the opener.”

“…If that’s what it takes.”

June couldn’t eat that day. She stayed in her cabin curled up in the corner, reciting prayers and talking points. The minutes passed like rich molasses.

She hated speaking to people. Most of them aren’t aware of the language their bodies tell. They don’t understand how apparent their anger is, how scathing their disappointment was. However, it must be done. June took a deep breath and tried her best to remember that she was being depended on. And she most certainly couldn’t disappoint Archbishop Vulka.

Night finally fell. The caravan stopped. The passengers were setting up for the evening once again. June breathed deeply alone for a few minutes. In and out, in and out, steeling her nerves. Then she stepped atop a large boulder overlooking the camp.

“Everyone!” She shouted.

The clamor quieted. People turned her way. A wave of emotions struck her, and she swallowed her words. Annoyance, mainly. Murmurs like ‘What the hell is this?’ She took another deep breath.

“We need to take the long route and give the Heldrazi Forest a wide berth,” she said.

“The ‘ell for?” Someone shouted.

“This is the largest eruption in the volcano’s history. No one knows how far it might reach. It could endanger this caravan if we c-continue on our route!”

“Oh fack of,” another shouted.

Yet another said, “I timed my peaches to ripen when we get there. How long would a detour take?”

The owner stepped out and stood beside the boulder.

“About three extra weeks if we take the Cadeau-Ralagast junction,” he said.

June added, “We could shave a few days off if we make preserved food ahead of time, so we don’t have to stop every night. I know Rites that could lessen the horses’ fatigue as well.”

The reaction was immediate.

“Oh no fucking way.”

“Do we even have enough food?”

“I took a bank loan for this and I need profits yesterday.”

Now it was anger. A lot was directed at June just for suggesting something so ridiculous. She could feel dozens of eyes piercing her accusingly.

Finally someone asked, “Listen lass, are you even sure we’re in danger?”

“No,” she answered. Another wave of incredulity. “It’s just a possibility. Like I said, this eruption is the worst yet. W-we might be able to pass through untouched, but there is a chance it is bad enough to reach the roads.”

“A gamble!” The owner said. He produced a clipboard and a steelfeather quill. “That we should give everyone here a chance to choose. There are two columns on these sheets of paper. Sign your name on one. It’s pretty self-explanatory. Whatever the result is, it’d be your choice.”

“Well that’s hardly fair, innit?” A large man said as he stood to his full height. “Some of us have more valuable cargo! And yet we all get equal say as to which route to take?”

“Yeah! And some of us have cargo that go bad while others don’t. This isn’t fair at all!”

“Oh fuck off, idiot, your shit ain’t worth nothing.”

“You can feel the worth of my skillet ‘gainst your noggin, you limpdick poof!”

Meanwhile the clipboard was being passed around. The signature count rose. June began to hear disturbing conversations taking place. Some of the bigger men were whispering threats to the others, making them choose the right option. June stepped down from the boulder and approached the owner.

“They’re trying to rig the vote, sir.” She discreetly pointed at the groups involved. “You have to stop them!”

The owner sighed, crossing his arms.

“Look, I like that you care, but honestly… how? You’ve presented your points and started a ballot. It’s up to them now how to proceed. If you have the power to force them to vote a certain way, why bother allowing a vote at all?”

June bit her lip. Tears were beginning to well up. Why did people do this? Didn’t they know she simply wanted what was best for the caravan? She looked around for another way, anything at all. Then it came to her. The escort party. The Scoutrunners usually ate separately from the passengers.

She found their gathering close by and moved quickly.

“L- Lisŗa?” She said loudly, panting. “Is there a L-”

“June?” Lisŗa left the dinner line-up. “What is going on over there? We heard noises.”

“Can you talk to your captain for me?” June asked, pleading.

--

Jorge fell in and out of consciousness. When he was lucid he was aware that the villagers had brought their strongest to help him move along. His legs kept marching forward, but he wasn’t commanding them to move. Lyosha led the way using Jorge’s axe. The old man was hiding a fair amount of strength after all.

He had had his suspicions about this world, Etrylis. They were confirmed when he dipped back into unconsciousness. It was like falling face first into the blackest pool of water matching his body’s temperature, robbing him of his senses and perception. If he stayed long enough he might sink to the very bottom, where it sat cross-legged. The being of light.

It had three heads affixed on one neck. Each one lit by a dim halo. The one on the left was a swirl of thorns. The one on the right a ring of beads. The one in the middle a crown of black fire. The flames of the center halo were like wavering nothingness. Endless, shapeless dark.

Jorge asked, “What are you?”

It said, “An Aspect of Death, The Merchant of Souls.” And then it spoke in concept, the language beyond languages, one that cannot be listened to, only understood.

So Jorge could do nothing but understand. And he hated what he was told.

He gasped for breath, his eyes opening wide. The men helping him let him down gently. Jorge looked around in a panic. The sky was still on fire; this was the real world. This time when he was offered water, he partook greedily, like he hadn’t drunken in ages. Lyosha bent down and patted him on the shoulder.

“You pushed yourself too far, friend,” he said. “With all this shit in the air we can only go slow else we suffocate.”

“I’m fine. I’ll take over.” Jorge took the axe from Lyosha’s hands and returned to the front of the line.

“What happened?” Lyosha followed him. “Are you really alright?”

“You lied to me,” Jorge said.

“What?”

“The Aspect. It spoke to me. You knew what it was.”

Jorge didn’t look back, but he imagined the surprise on Lyosha’s face.

“Listen my friend, I thought it would spare you,” Lyosha said, “the less you knew…”

“I’m not angry. Just disappointed,” Jorge replied. “Besides, one often finds their destiny on the path they take to avoid it.”

“Jean de la Fontaine?”

“Kung Fu Panda.”

“What is that?”

“The point is you got out. It’s my turn. And there’s nothing to be done about it.”