In the few short millennia I have existed, even the tedium of my isolated life didn't irk me. But here in the void, where my only sight of a world outside its interior is through this singular window, it's become unbearable, the suffering of mortals aside. Few were the times I thought to look down upon the mortal realms through Contemplation for that very reason. To be forced to watch them, in such a manner is... vexing.

What's more, neither Contemplation nor my eyes can penetrate the void's depths, which forces me to rely on the only information available: whatever I see through the eyes of this mortal. Unfortunately, what little I see of this world is useless, as none of it alludes to the happenings in the Realm. The only indication of what has happened so far is the lack of any substantial destruction to this world, which could imply either Majestic's plan hasn't come to fruition or simply isn't the world that cretin designed for ruin.

Despite all of that, I'm left with more questions than answers. What has happened during my absence from the Realm? What has become of my servant, Faerie? Where... or what is this world? And if, in the unlikely event I break free, how can I return to throw Majestic into this hell? It would be fitting. He seeks destruction, so why not allow him the honor of reveling in its very embodiment?

As Dorusc pondered what he's seen thus far, roughly two weeks had passed since the battle in Navir. The town hall, now that summer had taken hold, became almost unbearable from the season's heat. Which drove the wounded of the three remaining adventurers to their wit's end, miraculously 'healing' their wounds within only hours of suffering the heat. In short, they wanted out.

"We'll be going outside for a bit, Master Delark. It's a bit stuffy in here. Why don't you come with us?"

"..."

"Master Delark..."

"As they say in Brosia, when a man sinks into despair the beauties of life become a sword through his heart. Leave him, only time can help him now, Fallon." Yorn said irritably.

"But... ah... guess you're right." Nix scratched his head, "Well, wish us luck. There probably aren't too many spare carts around here, but we'll do our best while we're out- wait a minute, Brosia? You've been to the Demihuman kingdom?"

The hall's heavy Darkwood doors creaked open and shut as the two made their way outside. Zane sat hunched against a wall, hands clutching his shins in an upright fetal position. Slowly, he raised his head from between his arms and glanced at the far corner, where Falliva sat.

"..."

He hadn't noticed the intense stare lasering into his forehead up until now, nor the brilliant sky blue of the eyes that did. He only returned her gaze for several minutes, then, once he could stand it no longer, "You think I'm pathetic, don't you? I know. You don't have to tell me. That look is all I need to know..." He wiped his eyes that had clouded once more, "I shouldn't have left. I'm a merchant, and merchants belong in their rightful place. I abandoned the path of a shop owner long ago when I did the same to my father..."

His tears flowed quite freely now.

"Ha... look at me, a fully grown man in this state. I didn't have the right to take up my father's mantle or take her there. It was my punishment. I even tried to escape it... I didn't deserve death, I deserved far worse than that, but still... it's too much to bear anymore!"

"You're wrong," The words came as a surprise to Zane. This was the second time she'd spoken since she told him to live. What that 'live' did, he couldn't really fathom. Death seemed the only cure for what ailed him. Anything less was nothing more than a tragedy, both to himself, and the gods watching over him, who were no doubt poised with calamity over his head.

"W-what are you saying...?"

"You don't."

"But I..."

"But what?"

"Ah..."

The elf let out a short, exasperated sigh, nearly inaudible from so far away, "Humans never change, do they? Is it your lifespans that force you to forever look inward?"

"..."

"Go out there, you never will if you don't take the first step, "She pointed toward the doors, "Your loss is heavy, so are the ones our party and comrades have lived and died through, yet we kept them because we didn't have a choice."

"That's just..."

"Just what?"

Speechless, Zane struggled to find words to defend himself, but couldn't.

"It wasn't your fault, it's mine."

"Ha...?"

"Yorn said it. It's mine, for not considering the possibility of monsters like those."

"But Nix..."

"Knows nothing." Quite suddenly, Falliva stood. The distance between them closed rapidly in the half-dozen steps she took, telling of the graceful length of her legs underneath rugged trousers. She kneeled in front of him, proffering a curved hunting knife, "If anyone deserves death, it's me. If taking my life will take you out of here, I'll gladly give it."

Silvery, the gloss reflected his haggard face, as if to show him just how pitiful he had become. No doubt Falliva put many hours into honing it, and many more years over. What faces did she see in it? Were they all as defenseless as he was? As they were?

"Put it away."

"Are you going to run from this opportunity?"

"The burden is mine alone. Letting someone else take it with them is... wrong."

For a brief moment, her face flashed a hint of doubt. "So be it," She said, sheathing the dagger, "I will not offer it again. Now, will you stand?"

It wasn't a question, but rather a stern command. The terseness of it made Zane reflexively twitch in annoyance, something he hadn't felt for some time. Wordlessly, he stood, and with a slight jab in the back from Falliva, the two exited the hall. Annoyed as he was by the elf's presumptuousness, he felt some of the weight on his shoulders had lifted. Even if it was only a mote of ash, he felt he had risen, ever so slightly from an insurmountable pile.

"Thank you," Zane said in passing.

"You weren't the only reason."

"Even so, thank you."

Dorusc watched the scene play out through his window vantage point. The irony of a mortal's melodrama. It all falls flat, anticlimactic even at its zenith. Taking her life would've been more interesting. His disappointment, however, went unheeded in the void.

Unsurprisingly, the heat wasn't alleviated at all by the transition outdoors. In fact, the little breeze that blew by convection-cooked Zane's skin. Within minutes, his body was coated in a sheen of sweat. Undaunted, he glanced around the small village of Hunt, taking in its sights for the first time in the week they stayed here. Sure enough, the men, women, and children of the small village were in the same condition as he was. Some took refuge underneath the umbrellas of shade trees and rooves the sparsely placed domiciles, while others, still preoccupied with some errand or another, adopted a similar strategy of ducking underneath tactically organized spots of shadow.

"Land-locked villages are so much hotter than Narwell." Zane commented, to no one in particular. Then, he looked back at Falliva behind him. "How are you fine with all of this?"

"Elves don't sweat." She replied matter of factly.

"How fortunate for you then."

They had walked for several minutes and soon found that they had already walked the entirety of Hunt. It didn't seem to have any rhyme or reason, or any pattern to its shape, other than a haphazard arrangement of housing on the northern side, while several longhouses that functioned as storehouses, the town hall, and numerous wooden siloes were situated more to the south. All this was surrounded by a palisade, the height of three men and a little more, with short towers at the corners and midpoints. All told, there were eight towers, ten if counting the gates at the north and south sections.

Beyond the wooden walls, along the path they had taken to get there, an expanse of wheat and other grain crops took up the land far to the north, and back to the south from where they came. The sea of gold stopped several miles short of the forest. Which was barely visible over the rise of a hill.

"Things seem so... simple here." Zane mused. The lack of technology and architecture was painfully obvious to someone who had lived in the Thessolian capitol and the prosperous Narwell both.

"It's isolated from the rest of empire and the surrounding cities by the forest, so it hasn't grown much over the years. Not many seek it out since the forest is home to monsters..." She stopped halfway into her sentence to glance at Zane with a somewhat hesitant expression.

"It's fine."

"Most caravans going to Narwell go around it, completely missing the village," she continued, "during the spring is when the more dangerous beasts migrate out of the forest for breeding. That's when anyone wanting to get out, or in, does."

"Then how do they deal with those monsters?"

"They..." She began, but was interrupted by a commotion near the southern gate, not too far from where they had stopped to talk, "Are over there right now."

"Who?"