Halsham looked in confusion at the ordinary buttercup peeking out of his leather bag, wondering if the spirit was trying to joke with them. However, he had no other option.
Taking the flower, Halsham dismounted, took a few steps, and then carefully lowered the flower to the ground. He then went back to his group and waited.
After some time, something unusual happened. The air in front of the riders began to shimmer and a small house appeared among the trees, so small that it’d be better described as a shed than a house. The buttercup lay on the doorstep of the house.
The doors creaked open and a head popped out. A young man with multicolored eyes and ashen hair stared at the tiny yellow flower. By his youthful looks, he couldn’t have been older than eighteen.
“Carry him inside,” he
