Lance took a deep breath to steady her nerves as she stared into the all-devouring purple maw of the Fiendwood. The rotted landscape smelled a constant sickly sweet, the aroma so pungent that it made her nearly gag. The countless spirals that were etched into seemingly every surface made her stomach roil as well. The Spiral was everywhere, on the rocks, the blackened trees, the soil, and even the very clouds in the sky. It seemed that everything past the Fiendwall formed this vile ever-swirling pattern… Even across the countless ‘corpses’ of fiends that Hoplite had left behind after his battle.

They still wriggled and writhed violently, stacked together in a pile that was nearly as high as the hill of rubble that Lance now stood atop of. Fiends could not truly die, not unless they were cast into fire, thus the Fiendwallers had erected a series of small bonfires around the corpse pile, with heavily armored Defenders constantly hucking the mangled still-moving bodies into the flames. Why they did not simply light the lot of them on fire at once, Lance did not know.

Perhaps they were afraid it would draw Kazon’s attention if they made too large a flame? Or maybe they believed that such a massive fire would spread? Lance thought that it would be a splendid idea to let the Fiendwood be immolated, it would be a service to ignore fire safety in this instance. In fact, Lance may be more comfortable with walking through a burning hellscape, rather than this cursed atrocity to nature.

Not for the first time, Lance found herself reconsidering her decision to accompany Hoplite on his quest. She had been craving adventure, been yearning for it but… but this was simply foolish. It was one thing to say that she’d go into the Fiendwood, but now that she was actually about to delve into Kazon’s realm… Well, her feet were getting cold. Funny that they had been warm during the ascent… she’d practically ran all the way up here.

She had managed to get to the top of the rubble hill first, with Hoplite still straggling behind the rest of the party as he carefully sought a path up. The pile of debris was significantly smaller than it had been when they had first come to the Fiendwall, but that didn’t mean that it was any less treacherous to scale. Especially for Hoplite, with how heavy he and that armor was, one wrong step could send him tumbling all the way back down, with a few more rocks to keep him company during the fall. The rest of the party faired a bit better, but not by much, save for Kid’ka and Theopalu of course. Those two had actually stayed just behind her during the ascent… but Lance had the feeling that they had been holding back, especially Kid’ka.

Theopalu’s slow climb could have easily been attributed to his laziness, he’d never fully applied himself to his work, even as a Watcher. That wasn’t to say that the elder elf was bad at his job… quite the contrary, not one Watcher has been able to top Theopalu’s many records… no one but Lance herself that was, after he first took his leave from the Watch. If Theopalu took things seriously, he would be the best Watcher to have ever lived, Lance was sure of it.

Kid’ka though… seemed to be genuinely holding back. The pale man had been specifically avoiding eye-contact with her, likely so Lance wouldn’t be able to read his emotions. It was mildly aggravating, not the avoidance of eye-contact, but the fact that he felt the need to hold back. What, did he think that he was going to offend her by pulling ahead?

Or maybe he was just anxious because Lance was certain that he had received training from a Watcher. After all, only someone that had been trained by a Watcher would be able to spot one hiding amidst the many trees of the Faewood. No one could find a Watcher but a Watcher… Well, most people could not anyway, Lance had learned that when she had first met Hoplite. He definitely could not have been trained by a Watcher, due to his nature as an Outworlder. Kid’ka however, was not like Hoplite, he was a native to Ahkoolis, meaning that he had to have learned those techniques from someone. Kid’ka even fought like a Watcher did, ducking and weaving just as gracefully as any elf she’d ever seen. If Lance ever found out who had given training to Kid’ka, they would have to be reported to the Harkhall, humans knowing of Watcher secrets could only end badly.

The only reason the Akan-Dari had been held off from conquering the Faewood was because of those very secrets. Lance would have taken Kid’ka to be questioned by Muro that very day… but she had not wanted to risk conflict with his friends. If they had resisted, it was entirely possible that Hoplite would have fought too, and the last thing she had wanted was a bloodbath. She’d have to pick Kid’ka’s brain whenever the opportunity presented itself on their journey. A journey that she was delaying by standing here and staring, Lance realized.

She knew that she was doing it on purpose, looking for any reason to stay out of Kazon’s realm, or at least to delay it… She turned away from Kid’ka and the others, refocusing on the Fiendwood below. Lance was here now, she had requested leave and had told Hoplite that she’d come with him for his journey. She had given her word, and there was no backing out of it now. Was this what an adventure felt like? Cold sweat at her brow, shaking hands, and insects fluttering about in her stomach?

Yes, that had to be it. To be fair to herself, she was about to venture into a place no one had ever returned from… Where Kazon himself resided, the thief of Spiralling Death.

She had a right to be fearful.

With that thought, she finally began her descent, carefully picking her path down the hill of rubble toward the camp that had been set up on this side of the wall. It was a small thing compared to the tent city on the greener side, but it was still just as -if not more- busy. Tongues and Defenders both took up a watch on the perimeter of the camp, waiting for any stray fiends to approach.

Indeed, there were still fiends coming even now, in groups of ten or twenty, likely pouring across the Greatbridge that joined Faenor to the Fiendwood. The Tongues and Defenders made short work of the fiends that approached the camp, striking them down before dragging them to the nearest bonfire to be put to rest.

Once she finally reached the bottom, she let out a shaky breath, wiping the sweat from her brow while trying to avoid looking at the ground at her feet. The countless spirals etched into the soil may send her scurrying right back up the debris and back into the Faewood.

If she went back now, however… Lance didn’t think that she’d ever leave again.

Again she found herself considering her next actions. Lance could just go home right now, there wasn’t really anything Hoplite or the others could do to get her to stay… but again, she had told Hoplite and Michael that she would. If Lance went back now, her word would be devalued and Lance will have betrayed not only Hoplite, but herself. It was settled…

She would go into the Fiendwood.

Strangely, now that she was firm in her conviction to go through with this suicidal journey, she felt a tad less anxious.

“No going back now.” Lance told herself with a firm nod “It’s done.”

She waited at the foot of the rubble hill for the others, still keeping her eyes well above the spiraling ground. Kid’ka reached her first, of course, followed by Theopalu, the rest trailing right behind them. Hoplite was still picking his path down the debris when Michael finally reached the bottom, huffing and puffing as he approached her and the rest of the party.

“Hard climbin’ something like that wearing all this armor.” Michael said with a shrug “Glad to be over on this side though… didn’t like the looks I got.”

Alistair nodded “Yeah, you’re not exactly what I would call ‘popular’ around here. Since you left for the Faewood, all we’ve been hearing is revenge talk and how they hope that you get cursed or killed on our trip.” Alistair said almost nonchalantly, causing Michael to wince “I mean, that won’t happen,” Alistair said reassuringly “I’m certain that most of us will be fine.”

“Most of us, huh?” Michael muttered “Well, I know I’ll be part of ‘most’.”

“That’s the spirit!” Alistair laughed heartily “Say, what is your name again? Was it Mickal?”

The men then continued to converse as Hoplite continued his descent, the two speaking more animatedly as time went on. Lance couldn’t bring herself to keep track of their conversation, instead focusing on Hoplite’s slow climb. It was quite… funny, in a way. The man was always pressed for time, saying that they needed to be quick about things and moving at what felt like a cheetah’s pace in nearly all things he did. Yet now, he was carefully picking his path, briefly pausing here and there to consider before gently continuing his path down.

She knew why he took his time of course. If he tried to go as quickly as he could, Hoplite would no doubt dislodge several pieces of rubble, and the only direction they could go was down. They’d roll into camp and crush everything in their path, tents, people, whatever the boulders came into contact with. It was nice to see this considerate side from Hoplite now and then… it popped out on occasion in the strangest ways.

Like how Hoplite had gone out of his way to save her in the Harkhall, he hadn’t needed to do that, but he did. Sure, Lance had technically failed her duty in vetting Hoplite for his humanity… but he had appeared as anything but human. He had merely said that he was a Hoplite, and Lance, in her foolishness, had assumed that he was some sort of golem. Hoplite himself had denied being a golem, but she had still thought that he was some kind of construct. That had been an egregious error in judgment on her part, and she nearly paid the price for it.

Lance could not bring herself to blame Hoplite for this of course, after all, he had been ignorant of their ways; it hadn’t been done on purpose. If Hoplite hadn’t bent the Harkhall’s rules, that would have been the end of her career… and a dishonorable one at that. Thankfully the Harkmother had not disallowed the technicality presented to her and had acted on it. She was a good woman, and an even better leader, Lance hoped that she was doing well after Muro’s passing.

She hadn’t run into her at his death-day, but that had been when Lance was sober, the two could have crossed paths countless times that night. Lance briefly considered if Hoplite and the Harkmother had crossed drunken paths during the celebration as he finally reached the bottom of the mound, marching forward with heavy steps.

Lance, Michael, and the rest of the party all stood in a semi-circle before Hoplite, weighed down with bags filled to bursting with food rations. There was no hunting to be done in the Fiendwood and no kind of plant life would be edible… what they carried on their backs would be all they had for the journey. Hoplite himself was weighed down with dozens of bags tied to his frame, but it was mostly just extra munitions.

Lance had hoped that they would have been able to procure some horses to pull a wagon, but there would be no way for the beasts to graze on this tainted grass. No animals existed on this side of the wall that weren’t cursed, and as such no animals had been brought over. Not that anyone would dare risk bringing a horse over that treacherous mound.

No, what they brought with them was all they would have to eat, for both the trip into the Fiendwood, and out of it. If only there was some way to-

“A wagon is being brought over to this side in pieces.” Hoplite said as he approached the group “I requested its acquisition from Gali, and he gave approval.”

Twindil furrowed her brow “Why would-” She began.

“It will be assembled, and we will load our gear onto it.” Hoplite overrode her, coming to stand still as a statue before the group.

Lance then began hearing mutters behind her, turning her head to see Fiendwallers and Tongues both staring in awe at Hoplite. That’s right… Hoplite was the Hero of the Fiendwall now, as well as being the only mortal in history to have killed a Pillar-Born… given enough time, his name would reach every corner of Ahkoolis. She wondered if Hoplite knew or even cared. He didn’t seem like the type to crave fame of any kind.

“We don’t have any horses.” Alistair said flatly “Just what do you expect us to do, pull it?”

“Negative. I will pull it.” Hoplite replied in a casual monotone “You will all ride in the wagon once it’s assembled. It will be faster for us to complete our objectives, and we’ll be able to pack more supplies.”

“You really think you can pull all that weight?” Elum asked “Look, I know you’re strong, but trying to do something like that is simply too exhausting a feat for anyone. You do realize that it will take us a month to cross the Greatbridge on foot?” The ifrit asked, shaking his horned head “You really want to drag that thing for an entire month?”

“Negative.” Hoplite replied “It will take us a maximum of seven days. I will run.”

Lance couldn’t hear the joke in Hoplite’s tone but… no, Lance knew that he was completely serious. Michael himself just nodded along to what Hoplite said, apparently believing that it was completely possible. Lance herself was conflicted… she knew that Hoplite was practically indefatigable and insanely strong, but running across the Greatbridge in just seven days while dragging a wagon loaded down with both people and supplies sounded like sheer madness. If Lance did not know him better, she’d have thought Hoplite was boasting.

But Hoplite never boasted.

Elum laughed then “I’d pay to see that, you’ll collapse after just a few hours, I guarantee it.”

“Negative.” Hoplite replied flatly “Besides, we need the extra rations to survive. You say the virus…” Hoplite said, pausing for the briefest of instants before continuing “The curse, can transfer to us if we eat anything from the Fiendwood?”

“Yes.” Elum nodded.

“Then how do you expect to make the food we have last the whole trip? It is unrealistic.” Hoplite stated matter of factly.

“And you pulling a wagon for seven days isn’t?” Elum asked, his tone baffled “Look, this is just the way it has to be.”

“Negative.” Hoplite replied simply, pausing briefly before saying “You’ll see.”