Piggyback was a foreign term. Before I voiced my questions, mister Orden had asked me whether I wanted that instead. I had thought that mister guard talked about using an interesting magic to turn himself to a cool-looking wild boar. Hoofs hard as stone that would stampede through soils and rocks, paving paths. Tusk that no trees nor branches would dare stand in way. Would he have wings too, perhaps? Maybe he'd have tails strong enough to propel boulders obstructing our path?

That would be very amazing. I think.

I don't know. That was just a moment of inspiration simply because it was magic... when it actually was not. So my thoughts steered back on what he simply meant by that word: hopping on his back. Or in another way, he had to carry me to the town. Which I immediately had to shake my head at him fervently for. I was already healed, given delicacies, given the chance to ask where I was—sooner. To trouble him to ferry me is another matter I wouldn't want to burden him or them for when I can walk even for a whole day. Perhaps if it was absolutely needed and would require him do so, I would.

Those unhesitating refusals only became firmer when I realized that it was actually just a few hours when I had been in a mesh of injuries. And I was completely lost in wonder how that happened. There weren't any books available that ever explained what magic is, but I've heard and have discussed with my fellow brothers that it would take days for such injuries to heal even with a healer's help—with their best spells exaggeratedly noted in our gossips. Yet, it seems our reference was lacking in imagination.

But it just goes to say how amazing mister Virel was.

However, at the same time I was enamored how wonderful the magic here was, it occurred to me that mister Virel must have used a great deal of magic to do that. Which made me quirk my brows in worry how astronomical the payment would be for such healings. I worried inwardly for a moment before mister Orden seemed to realize my hesitance to ask about it, on which he just waved those worries off with a rub of my hair.

"You don't have to worry that much, lassie. Shimmering metals ain't gonna dent the man's work rules."

Un-hunching my shoulders at his sudden action, I trailed behind him while he assured me that what mister elf had done was well within his job scope. A healer employed by their town. Whether if it would've cost a fortune otherwise wasn't something I managed to know.

But it was enough to realize one single thought of mine. If they were giving free healings, they must surely not lack magic here. I wonder if I could learn those magics, that healing and fruit. I momentarily absorbed myself in thought as I rubbed my arm with my free hand, feeling its uneven smoothness.

We came into another room that, likewise, was lit with lamp orbs. With the exception that the room itself was empty. Not even a chair nor a block of wood to put the lamp orbs on adorned the space—making it look spacious than the room I had been given that it looked smaller than it was.

With nothing in sight, everything was the light shade of brown. And as such, what served as the orbs' leverage were the wooden fixtures that protruded on either sides of the two closed, vine-like doors. I had to stare and confirm that those orbs really weren't just improvisation. Because for all the orbs'worth, it was off-putting to look at where it laid, given that only silvers and other precious metals had held such expensive crystals.

Still, that was another thing I can be assured about. Mister Virel is rich. Hopefully, mister Orden's remarks stands true for mister Virel's.

Mister Orden continued to lead me to the door further than the one on our left side. It came as a surprise that he too can use the same magic like mister Virel. Or was he the one that originally opened the door earlier? I doubted that thought with the banana on my hands and the chair left on the room. But if he is—I looked at mister Orden for a moment then back to the vines—then that might mean I could too. Hmm, I hope. He got such expensive appearance, so maybe magic is as well. For now, I intently watched the vines recede, slowly forming the oval outline of the door.

It was a moment later when Mister Orden stepped outside that the scattered trees and bushes plotting the surroundings came into vision. Beyond that, no other signs of human habitation came to sight, however. Only the creeping silhouettes of the trees beyond marking and defining where we are.

Forest.

My chest thumped a little as my eyes glazed at the compact darkness beyond of the visible forestial color. My mind rekindling the memory of that spider that brought problems for me.

Titoctimus

The magical words responded as if in jest. And I couldn't help but shiver as I felt the moist and cool touch of the grass outside, further accentuating the feeling of subtle wrongness—dread build within me. The shiver then trailed towards my thighs as Mister Orden had me sit and wait outside as he went back inside again, probably looking for mister Virel.

I followed his back and my wariness slightly shrank with the fact that the door had been left opened. Looking at the wooden bench a distance away, I hesitantly trudged towards it, the patch of soil nearly as cold as the wet grass. Likewise, the pebbles were no different. And they managed to travel past my thighs going towards my arms before getting expelled with a rub of my hand. That never abated what lurked around, however. So I needed assurance for myself. I observed around and found not even a twig I could use for myself, instead I settled for some pebbles.

Finally sitting myself at the edges of the bench, I put down the banana and pebbles on my lap as I breathed on my hands, hoping to disengage my thoughts from the swirling nooks of the forest, intent to believe they hold nothing but greeneries shaded in black. I craned my neck and saw that mister Orden seemed to be tapping the door we passed by earlier.

Ah, yes. Yes. Of course. Why would I think I'd be left alone in the middle of a forest.

I let out a breath, both of relief and to warm my hands again.

Surveying the forest, I immediately confirmed that the whole place was a definition of ethereal darkness. Thankfully, it was with a touch of light illuminating past the verdant trees near me. Barely bright but was enough to deter my darkening thoughts of the murkiness cast over by the greyed greeneries further away. If not for my fear of danger suddenly jumping out, the trees would be calming to look at with the nightlights. Especially the moon that had drifted a bit more as if seemingly casting the whole place to a sleep of gentle bobs helped by the passing wind. As if heeding my thoughts, a breeze managed to pass by me in a comforting caress, not the coldness of dread that any monstrosity was lurking around. No, there shouldn't be. I felt nothing this time.

I cast another look on mister Orden and finally saw him talking. And again, I was relieved. So I sniffed then breathed the fresh air, its attempt to trace a shiver all over me turned to a memory of cold spring. A picture more vivid than what I had thought of it earlier. No wounds, heartaches, wariness impeding my longing for it.

And so, my eased mind brought the waned colors of purple, red, blue, and other more to vision. Almost negligible in sight but they existed, like they should be. The flowers more than a welcome sight than the initial, funneled shade of the almost silent forest in my eyes. I breathed again, exhaling with force to expel the thumps on my chest.

After breathing in the fresh air, content and calmed, I turned around to inspect mister Virel's dwelling. Situated atop a very shallow hill that I wouldn't stumble if I run downhill, it's a place that was angled to better view the surroundings. Especially at day. It was then, too, did I realize why the structure had no windows at all.

The appearance immediately reminded me of the gnarled chair mister elf sat on. With green vines snaking the bark-like walls, I could hardly argue that it was olden. As if implying that the building itself was left uncared. Yet, the tended flowers I had overlooked that was decorating the nooks of the vines suggested being purposefully grown. A characteristic befitting of the place.

However, as I craned my neck upwards, I doubted whether it really wasn't naturally grown.

The place was a massive tree. It was evident as leaves and branches teetered and bobbed abovehead. Letting the sprinkle of the night sky intermittently peek through the bladed silhouettes of the canopy. Yet, despite the massiveness of the trunk, the edges of the tree's crown never met the copse's nearby. Of which I instantly noticed made an irregular, circular gap between them that the nightlights have managed to pierce through. And that made things all the more amiss.

The leaves that hung low and the thin, almost brittle, coiling branches that were vastly disproportionate to the wide trunk of the tree immediately redefined my thoughts.

The tree was an amalgamation of many others.

It looked as if the nature itself nurtured this singular tree to appear bloated, overgrown, yet disconcerting to one's eyes. Or saplings that was buried on a patch of soil which was then cultivated to grow in a way that shelter would be impossibly built. How masterful of an art it is wasn't my question, but rather, how it was created. Magic. The only reason I could think.

I gulped my growing excitement to myself, noticing that mister Virel and mister Orden finally stepped outside. Realizing they were heading my way, I collected my things and stood, sending a slight bow in response at mister Orden's waved hand at me. He then gestured to Mister Virel and circumvented the treehouse. Peeing? I suppose. As I turned my attention at mister Virel, I instinctively tightened my grip on the banana still cradled in my arms. Then loosened it immediately as I grasped it, noticing he wasn't about to ask for it.

Of course.

Instead, his eyes were focused on the soil and grass beneath me. Springing to my feet, I moved away and looked at what I might have wrongly stepped on. But there were only grass, pebbles, and earth. I think.

"Ah, no. You misunderstand." Mister Virel finally had his eyes on me, noticing his smile that seems to never fade—as if tugged in the most natural way—before I shifted my sight to look at his pointed finger.

"I don't think I've got shoes your size. Would you be okay with wooden sandals?"

Sandals? Ah. I felt the coldness travel my entirety again from my soles. "Yes, sir. That would be helpful. Thank you." I nodded along as I voiced my thanks, rubbing my left foot atop my right's.

Remembering how mister Virel had simply taken a chair out of nowhere, I observed his hands or any of his belongings where he would take it from. Perhaps this would allow me to have an insight on how to create it. What mana is even used in taking things from nowhere? I mused as I intently watched him flick his finger, awaiting for the sandal to arrive. Yet such assumptions never occurred.

Mister Virel simply cast his hand and roots sprung from the soil and formed a pair of sandals that snugly fit my feet. As quick as my head snapped downwards, I only managed to see the final stages of the magical stitchings end, never even having had the chance to be surprised what had happened. But that glimpse with the memory of when I had fainted steered me to a single thought more than the sight of the sandals: mister Virel must be the magical maker of the treehouse.

To mask my amazement of that conjecture couldn't be done, and I had to look at mister Virel along with slightly parted mouth and stare that radiated my excitement. And this time, I finally believed that how I was healed must really have been a casual thing for him.

I didn't have to pay for anything. That had been pointed to me directly and hinted to me with every piece of the unbelievable things around. Finally nailed inside me by magic itself. But now I was willing to work for it. Maybe if I ask him, I could do some manual labor and stick around. Perhaps I'd be able to see his magic again and possibly learn it!

I wish. When my heart started to beat slower, the semblance of my mind wanting to learn magic was similarly doused as well. Mister Virel looked like he required no one's assistance at all. His dwelling was too clean. His odd clothes would fare better left uncleaned rather than me washing it for a whole day. And I doubt my capability to carry things around would do usefulness if he has such superb magic. The uses of wood.

Yet, I looked at my banana. The thing I had wanted to ask if I could keep it. Which I didn't need to. Looking back at mister Virel who was now busy checking a rag-like pouch, I wondered if I should still ask him. No longer for work but simply if I could also learn the same magic he has. Just ask. Be direct. Be respectful. Bows, smiles, ask. Then perhaps everything would work just as fine this time. I gripped the banana tighter.

"Si—"

Clink.

"Hmm?" mister Virel hummed in question, absorbed in fiddling with the chimes of metals in the small bag. Then I became one too.

My eyes slightly widened at the color that I glimpsed inside of the seemingly unimportant ragbag. It was gold. Lots of them. And that meant something for me.

Payment.

I-is he possibly looking for change? But I don't have money at all! I gulped in further worry as I thought what payment I should give to get those changes. What if h—I blinked. As if realizing something, I inwardly shook my head. How did I get there?

"Oh yes, here."

Mister Virel's voice caught my attention back, and I followed the pouch nestle into the nook of his arms, hardly noticing that another object appeared out of nowhere on his palm. Only noticing it after he spoke once again.

"This could help hide your mark if you want. Ah yes, the mark. I forgot to mention. Mark of the Dead, I recall."

Tapping his forehead, he explained, "Those that are revived often gets one on their forehead and was the reason we were able to know you were one. There isn't anything wrong if you parade with it freely. But in any case, the powder would help you hide it if you want."

Heeding his words, I felt for my forehead, pressing it with my cold, shivered fingers. I felt it burn colder at that, as if a seemingly unimportant part of my body blared in attention when I knew it shouldn't. Not with that mere touch alone. But it felt special the moment he said that. Mark of the Dead. That sounded me.

I took the small gnarled box from him, fitting right in my palms. Before I could even decide whether I should use it, his hand was extended again, completely taking my attention with the familiar cloth. Widening my eyes, I felt my heart thump in excitement. Its bulges easily giving away what it holds. Then its clinks as it landed on my hand confirming yet again.

"Consider this an extended help from me." Mister Virel had that same unfaltering smile again—perhaps always—leaving me without words almost in everything. His generosity seemed too much for me. But I didn't want to give it back. I didn't have to give it back.

It was gold. But more than that, it was help too. My hands were full, but that didn't stop me to give him a bow.

"Thank you, sir. Very, very much. This would really help." With all the sincerity and words I can muster, I summed my gratitude. The only way I could show it. I could give him a smile. Grin. Say other words. But a bow, thinned lips, a thankful heart, and a stare is all I could give. That was my true sincerity. Eyes hold truth. That was at least for me. But I hope it would reach him just like how his vibrant and misted green eyes had reached mine.

He smiled wider in response. And I believed my gratitude reached him.

"And yes, you had a question earlier, young Nudius? I could answer some." He chuckled.

I further eased as I went back into my memory, then remembered. Peering back at the things filling my arms, I hesitated whether I should ask for more. Still, a look at his still gaze that showed nothing I was wary of and I was compelled.

"Is your... magic common sir? I mean, do I really need nothing to pay you sir? Not even labor? Debt? And umm...," I paused, then steeled my mind as I almost flinched back at his stare that seemed to have read the question I tried to mask, "...can I learn magic like yours, sir?

"Payment? You shouldn't worry for such things, young lady. As for the magic, hmm," he hummed in thought, as if deliberating.

"That's for you to find out. Maybe consider that as your payment for me?" he answered with a question. A response to wonder about. Yet similarly a confirmation.

I could learn it. I nodded at him and voiced my thanks once again, the excitement within me piling up one after the other.

A second later, the shuffling steps behind signalled mister Orden's return, garnering mister Virel to turn his back on me. Knowing he wouldn't turn back, this time, my appreciation continued. A thin smile forming to my lips as I grasped his gifts tighter.

Then I bowed once again. The only thing I could ever do.