Dreamer: The Eighth Key book 1

A Chance Meeting

Enycuta was buried in the early hours of the morning, his grave shallow under the most massive willow in all the Moors. By the time the sun had risen, Sumrian had managed to gently encourage Miryd to rise and follow him back to the cart. The Wildwalker assisted in whatever manner he was able to as they prepared to depart. We need to leave. That evil man that put us through this is still out there somewhere, and there is no telling if or when he is going to come to finish what he started. We can only hope the creature has chased him far away. Thistale rubbed her fingers soothingly over Miryd’s back as the Wildwalker lead them safely out of the marshes and to the roadway that they had taken initially to get into Rosleen in the first place. He escorted them through the town, which had emptied out completely, and helped them load their cart up with abandoned goods.

Thistale neared the creature, leaning in shyly. “Thank you for what you have done.” She told him as she tossed her arms around the monstrosity’s waist tightly. “We all would have been lost.” She knew this would be the only thank-you he would receive from any of them. Miryd was too lost in her grieving, and Sumrian was too busy trying to comfort her, taking the lead with the cart. The Wildwalker deserved so much more then what any of them could possibly give.

“We have one last thing we wish to do for you, little one.” The Wildwalker said, lifting her by the underarms gently to set her into the open space in the cart. “Do not be afraid. She is watching over you, and she will protect you at all costs. We are her faithful servant, Key. When you meet your other-self, you will be renewed. Trust in her and yourself. She promises.” He said, placing a gnarled hand over her eyes, pushing her back. From his fingertips came a soft green warmth which ebbed away all of the stress of the previous night. “Blessings be, for all Keys will find their way before the coming dawn.” He smiled. “Go now on your way. We will look after you until you leave our domain.”

Thistale didn’t get what he was talking about, but that did not seem to matter. She found a lot of comfort in those words. She was overly tired, as they all must have been now. Long had the night been for all who dwelt in the marsh. Soon enough, she drifted off into glorious slumber as the gentle sway of the cart taking to the smooth forested road aided in her ease. So deeply did she sleep that she had not stirred even a little bit when Miryd crawled back into the cart to curl up with her and rest her sad, tired heart. Sumrian would keep them well.

                                                                                      *

She found herself in a garden lit by the stars above. Light emanated all around Thistle’s body in the gloom, almost blindingly bright. Cool glossy wetness met her feet but refused to break with her weight. Each step she took brought forth a burst of stars that sprayed around the darkness magnificently before fizzling out like an ember on an autumnal wind. Within each blast, she caught a glimpse of herself at different stages of her life within the stars. Once just a small crying child. Then as a happy old woman, or a mother, or an array of other “selves.” She knew then that she was dreaming. That this could not possibly be reality though she found such reveries increasingly bittersweet.

Still, Thistale continued to walk towards nothing in particular, aimless until a different light came into being in the distance. Thistale’s heart raced as she broke into a run. As she neared, that light morphed into a figure, which became clearer and more evident, the closer she came. This figure had a familiar air about him though she swore upside down and backward that she’d never met him before in her life. Either way, he looked blurry but gentle and small as his hand stretched out to grasp hers. In this soundless void, things like introductions were lost. The figure smiled as brightly as the light did, taking her breath away.

She had so many questions but not the air nor the sound to ask them. Yet somehow, Thistale felt that she knew those answers already. She just had to dig deep within for them. This person felt utterly acquainted with her. Like a long-lost friend, from when she was but a small thing, maybe. Perhaps it went even farther than that. Together, the pair of them sunk down to sit upon their knees in the nothingness. Doing so sprung up bubbling lights that spread grass in their wake, and shot outwardly from underneath their bodies. Soft and sweet-smelling like fresh apples.

The darkness receded subtly at first. It left the pair suddenly resting in a lush meadowed orchard the likes of which Thistale had never been able to see even when she could have. A wild, untamable paradise visited by elk and hare. The sounds of life began just as suddenly around her, deafening in nature. The loudest was the whispering of her name, wading around her though the stranger hadn’t even attempted to open his lips. No no. It was a woman’s voice that called to her no matter how she looked at it.

The images faded away when Thistale stirred back into the waking world. She pulled herself to sit up in the back of the cart by one of the crates with a soft groan. The Vale felt like she was in some sort of haze for an exaggerated instant, rubbing the sleep away from her eyes. Slowly, color began to seep into existence in her sights. Just blobs of it at first. Then shapes began to form, like a watercolored painting. Finally, after the sleep fell away from them, Thistale found that she could actually see. Thistale blinked quickly, even going so far as to stand so that she might decide if she was indeed awake or not.

“Sit down, woman! You are going to fall!” She heard from behind her.

With an unsteady turn, Thistale fell upon her backside right into one of the open crates and squished several tomatoes in the process. Sumrian sat on the bench in the cart’s front, steering a magnificent chestnut and grey steed through a winding timbered trail.

“Told you so. What’s the matter with you?” He asked, looking back at her. He seemed to take notice of the incredulous look on her face. His eyebrow shot up, and Thistale could hardly contain herself.

Thistale was beyond tears in mere seconds. “Sumrian… H-how did you get so old?” She stammered, leaning in to get her face as close to his as she could possibly manage. The color, a soft golden hue, was starting to wash back into her irises.

“Well, that was rude…” Much ruder than it was meant anyways. “What on Gya’a’s green earth are you talking about? We are practically the same age. In fact, I remember when you used to brag about being a few years older. I am not some bed-ridden old man, Thistale.” He protested dryly.

“Well, you look it.” She teased, poking him square in the cheek.

Now it was Sumrian’s turn for a flash of misunderstanding to take over him. He stopped the cart and turned to look at her fully. “… I look it?” He repeated dumbfoundedly. “I appreciate that you are trying to make light of what happened last night, but I really don’t need it. I’m fine.” He told her.

“No. I meant it. You look tired too. I see you… I can…” She crawled forward, intending on proving it. Though she had come a little too close to stepping on Miryd, she paused to look down at the woman and cleared her throat. “Woops.” She muttered. Thistale found Miryd to be rather adorable. She was a short woman with a heart-shaped face and slightly chubby cheeks. A mess of wavy brown hair framed her form. She was absolutely covered with a slew of freckles over lightly tanned skin; she reminded Thistle of a tiny animal. Maybe a field mouse.

A grin spread as Thistale climbed over the back of the bench and sat down next to Sumrian. Her gaze soaked in all that there was to see. Thus far, it was just dense forestry, green and black in the mist. To her, it was the most fantastic sight. Even before her captivity, she had never been so privileged enough to see a place so green. Bardridor was full of trees, but they were charred and chalky, and their leaves were a crispy parched browned.

She acted much like a child would, pointing out anything she considered new. She even went as far as to tug on Sumrian’s arm as he tried to steer when she could not hold her excitement in. Sumrian could only smile at all of it. He worked on keeping the cart’s course and let her have her fun.

“You know, you are going to wake Miryd up if you continue to yell like that. She needs the rest.”

“I am not that loud. Besides, I think she would like to know I am cured. She needs some good news after…” Thistale did not want to continue that thought, growing silent in her place. She sat in a few moments of silence, daring to speak again after she settled. “I’m sorry, Sumrian. I never noticed anything was out of place. We just thought a dip in the springs would be nice. I couldn’t do anything to help you either. And when I was able to try, I was too late.” She rubbed her face in her hands; her shoulders fell as regret filled her.

“It’s not your fault. Sometimes people do unspeakable things. That is just the way of this world, Thistale. Even if you knew what was going on, there was little that could have been done once we were taken. And, if you think about it, we all would be six feet under that tree if you and that creature had not come when you did. You did your best. Don’t blame yourself. I promise Miryd won’t blame you either. She is a good person and has a huge heart.” He told her, rubbing her back when he freed his hand. “It’s nasty business when innocence is stolen away for the gain of others. Even the Goddess would never be able to stop the rise of those types of people. Even when the world becomes right and the magic returns, it will never be the fault of the innocent.”

“Thank you. Still… If I had not fallen asleep…”

“You would have known? That’s a silly way to think, my dear. If that were the truth, I would have seen them coming a mile away.” Sumrian insisted.

Thistale sighed as she hurried over to lean against Sumrian and snuggle into his side. “Thank you for taking me with you.” She mumbled.

The rest of the way through the forest was full of the music of nature, from the gentle sway of the leaves high in the canopy as the breeze swept over them to the chirping of many birds that came and went from their vision. It made Thistale drowsy yet again, but she could not allow herself to slip into sleep’s embrace right now. It meant missing more of the world around her. She had enough of that already.

                                                                                      *

The forest ended in almost as abrupt a fashion as it began. Where the trees ended on the edge of the high white cliffs, they could look down into a vast dusty valley below. The sun painted a decent portion of the rock in red light this time of day. That meant the noontime similarly cast an orange glow on four different roads below, cutting through piles of loose rock and rubble. Part of the valley looked like it once had been an old quarry that no longer saw the work of skilled hands. They could still see places where large blocks had been painstakingly cut out and sild into perfect piles, ready to be taken off. Old scaffolding and abandoned, time-worn buildings could still be seen off in the distance like they were expecting the work to resume at a moment’s notice.

The other side of the valley was comprised of fallen powdery rock unsuitable for such prospects, having had several mudslides throughout its existence. Little grew below though it only remained bare up to an arched bridge. The shallow river touching the Moors flowed underneath, housed in a large ravine that made the water crash quickly at its bottom.

At least the road down was relatively smooth and wide. It had to be to ensure aiding the blocks out of the valley without damaging the hard-won stone. By now, Miryd had woken up, yet she stayed as silent as the grave. Who could blame her? Thistale made her way back so that she could sit with Miryd to offer her support. Attempting any sort of conversation had been fruitless, but at least she did not have to be alone. Thistale understood. Death was often a challenging thing to endure.

The cart zig-zagged down to the crossroads where all the thoroughfares of the valley met before they got even a peep out of Miryd. And really, it had been out of necessity that she spoke. Sumrian could not read the weathered old signpost that told them which direction they should take towards the coast. According to Thistale, he was unfortunately bad at directions and always had been. Myrid was the only one of the three that had ever gone to Desirae in the first place. Thistle recalled her saying so before the left Bardridor’s Pass. Watching Sumrian grow frustrated was, at the very least, entertaining. The faintest of smiles found Miryd’s lips, bringing one to Thistales.

“Having trouble?” Miryd asked, leaning forward with her head in her palm.

Sumrian rubbed his chin. “No… I know where we are going. We need to head northwest.” He replied vaguely. He wasn’t wrong.

“Sumrian, you make a terrible liar.” Thistale chimed in. “Don’t let him fool you. He once got us lost going into the market when we were little. And that was just one street.”

Miryd chuckled softly. “Is that so? Well then. Should we have stopped and asked for directions?” She crossed her arms as she rose to her feet, poking a little bit of fun at the Bard’s expense.

“Don’t be telling her such lies.” He snapped, shooting a look at the Vale. “I’m fine. I just… My Daedii is just rusty.”

“It’s the one on the left, past the piles of dust. In the direction of the breeze.” She told him as she leaned on Thistale. “Let me share with you the easiest way to tell. The air smells salty, like the sea.”

Thistale glowered, giving Sumrian the stink eye. “… It was not a lie.” She muttered under her breath. “How far away from Desirae are we anyway?” She asked Miryd.

“Not too far. I think we should be able to find the ferry by nightfall if we wish. We crossed into the kingdom of Soraen when we came down from the highlands. It’s a narrow swath of land from this direction to the coast.  Sharn is a much smaller place than what most people would have you believe. It only takes up a little corner of the world.”

“Really? I don’t actually know much about the other kingdoms… Most children in Bardridor are not taught about all the kingdoms until they are much older. I missed the opportunity to learn about them.” Thistale looked away, embarrassed at her lack of proper education.

“Would you like to hear about them? I could teach you.” Miryd offered. It would give her a chance to get her mind off of things by doing one of the things she loved most, telling stories.

“Show me!” Thistale smiled.      

Miryd glanced over at Thistale, flashing a look of confusion when she recognized the clarity in the Draconic’s eyes and gasped softly. “How in the world?” She asked.

Thistale grinned. “Never you mind that.”

Miryd wasted no time as she dug out an old map from one of the packs and put her finger on a cluster of islands around a central landmass. “This is Sharn, the collective name of our continent. It’s an old map, but it’s not too far from what we think nowadays. Way over here are the nations across the sea.” She pointed to the large mass of land that took up the bulk of the page. “The sea between us is very deep though it is genuinely not that long a distance. We call it the Tepid sea though it behaves now like an ocean. It’s tough to cross. At least, it has been since the fall of the Goddess.

 Altogether, Sharn is made up of seven different kingdoms. There is Cidraedell to the very north, which is an icy tundra. Then underneath is Thorrid, Xune, and Leone. This makes up Sharn’s heartlands, and they are rich in natural resources. So most of the goods we bought in Baridridor’s Pass came from these areas. Then comes Soraen. It’s a rocky forested kingdom that runs the length of the Bardridian mountains north and west till it meets with the Isles of Leone. And the very bottom here is Bardridor, the volcanic nation you call home. Last, we have the kingdom of Austieria. It’s an island west of Soraen and Leone. They say a lot has changed about the landscape there. The last I heard, there are still a lot of marshes and mountains, though.” Each mentioned area was almost small enough to be covered by one of Miryd’s fingertips. “So. You still want to go to Desirae?” She asked.

“Very much so. There are a few other things we need to do there.” Sumrian answered, rummaging through a crate for an apple or dried bit of something to snack on before they headed off in the direction Miryd mentioned. “You are more than welcome to come with us, you know.”

“I have nowhere else to be. Might as well cast my lot with you both.”

“Really?” Thistale ran her index finger in over the map playfully. “That would be wonderful. I don’t think I could handle being alone with him for more than a few days at a time.” She tossed her head in Sumrians direction.

“Yeah. A few days might be a little much.” Miryd teased. “That is if you both don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” Sumrian reassured her. “It would be good for Thistale.”

Not far behind, two others on horseback began the slow descent down one of the winding roads that cut straight through the quarry’s center. Diraimeir and Tathlyn, to be exact. For now, everyone was none the wiser to how fate would tie them together. Many people came and went through the valley to head west towards the coast. The chances of Diraimeir and Thistale meeting was inevitable. Maybe even ordained by fate and the Goddess herself. And meet they would when the first glistening of the west sea came into view.

                                                                                      *

The lush green, rocky fields of Soraen gently sloped until they flattened out entirely before the shore. The soil became sandy and loose, and the meadows mix with hardy seagrasses. Nut and fruit trees dotted the land in small clusters, which flowered this time of the year. Farms leaped up between the groves, many of which were surrounded by low moss-covered stone fences that separated the homesteads from each other. A mildly warm wind came from in the west and swept the seeds of multicolored blooms over the landscape.

Small deer roamed in large heads, too numerous to count as they stuck their heads up from grazing within tall grasses to peer in the direction of the road at the slightest sounds, like the creaking of a wagon’s wheel in this case. Gulls cried overhead as they searched the ground below for a meal in patches of fresh till-lands.

Slow was the way of things here. From the people walking the road to everyone that toiled in the fields as beans or cabbages were planted. The daily pace was ingrained into every aspect of life. Farming required care and precision.

 It was warm, but the breeze still brought an icy chill with it when it came in larger blasts. Thistale shivered as she pulled her cloak around her frame. Sharn didn’t necessarily stay warm in any given place, save for the hot summers in Bardridor, but she had been unused to the sort of cold the sea created. The air here was humid rather than dry, so the chill seemed to stick to her skin and sink into her core. Thistale didn’t look all too thrilled about it though it only stole her attention away for a short while. This kingdom was too pretty for her not to take it all in.

Just like the world around them, the cart slowed to a lazy crawl. The attached steed paused every few steps to munch upon the new blades of grass growing along the roadside. It was probably a good time to rest anyways. Miryd hopped down from the side of the wagon and patted the horse softly. “It’s about noon now. We should let him eat.” She commented. “Besides, we aren’t too far from the ferry. We’re not in that much a hurry anymore, are we? Why not find a spot to set up so I can get a meal going? Something nice and warm. We got a lot of food stores we really need to use up.” Miryd glanced at Sumrian. “You find us a good place. I will take Thistale to gather some kindling.”

Sumrian nodded as he climbed down from his seat and helped the Vale to do the same. “That’s not a bad idea.” He mused before he gave the steed a tug, prompting him to follow at a leisurely pace. “Don’t go too far. Stay near the road where I can see you.” He called. Thistle rolled her eyes.

The Bard found a small clearing between an unclaimed grove of cherry trees. Evidently, it had been used many times before by other travelers as a waypoint. The remains of an old campfire, charred wood left in a shallow pit that was surrounded by small chunks of stone, sat close to the center and out of the way of the breeze. Some wood had been left, but it was not enough to start a good fire. It was so damp that it would become a pain to get it to catch. Those logs had been left out in the rain a few days prior. It had been so humid that it had not been able to dry out thoroughly. Either way, they would make for excellent seats. Sumrian began to dig out the larger pieces of char and redistributed the ash to make it a little more even before he unloaded some of the spare stock they had. Everyone was pleased with it.

The task of gathering what was needed was easy enough. There had been plenty of dead branches around the grove itself, though most were too were wet or green. It would have to do. Miryd loaded up Thistale’s arms with as much as she could carry. Her own arms soon filled with dried leaves and grass.

Miryd was able to get a decent, be it smoky fire to start with a little bit of effort. Thistale was pretty sure she’d done this sort of thing many times before in her years of carting goods from place to place with Enycuta. Miryd had Thistale bring her one of the crates where root vegetables were kept, quickly chopping them up skillfully and plopping them down into a small pot she managed to balance upon a flat stone over the young blaze. Water from a pouch-skin was added slowly and brought to a rolling boil. Miryd herself dug out some salted meat from a sealed jar to be cut up into thin bite-sized strips. These were added after the contents of the pot had become nice and frothy. It was a wondrously hearty smelling stew that promised to fill their bellies to bursting. Thistale and Sumrian were not the only ones to think so either.

                                                                                      *

Diraimeir caught the smell as they neared the camp. His stomach gave a loud growl, and he took in a great lungful of it. Even Tathlyn could not withstand the call of a hot lunch. He turned Ch’nuino towards the little camp. It really would not hurt to ask if we could join them, at least not if we can pay for it. That smells amazing.

All eyes fell on the Nymph and the Fai when they were near enough for Ch’nuino’s hooves to make sounds in the soft spongy earth before the grove. Tathlyn rose a hand in greeting as he halted himself, the boy, and the mare. “Would it be alright for us to eat with you?” He asked, not daring to budge until he got an answer.

Miryd thought for a long moment before she nodded in agreement. Clearly, neither of them was dangerous. And Diraimeir could see there was plenty to go around. “Make yourselves comfortable. Should be ready shortly.” She replied, motioning them to sit.

Tathlyn hopped down first before he helped Diraimeir with a sweep of an arm and let the white mare go off towards the grass. “Here.” The Illitar murmured, holding out a couple of coins as payment. Just like Tathlyn, he did not believe in free between strangers. It was better to be safe than sorry.

With that settled, Diraimeir took himself a seat next to Thistale and let the hood of his cloak fall around his shoulders. He didn’t notice that the girl next to him was staring at him. It was not just any plain stare, either. An ill-favored look washed over her face and contorted it, though it was hidden in the shadow of her huddling. This was not genuinely Thistale at all. The servant of Anmarite had begun to cloud Thistale’s mind and take her over as it had been bid. The boy was another Key, and Anmarite would have been pleased to find him.

She waited and watched Diraimeir for what felt like an eternity. In reality, it was only a fifteen-minute span of time. Diraimeir tried to strike up a conversation with everyone as Miryd began to pass out bowls of the stew by then. When it came to Thistale, the Vale did not even acknowledge her portion being held out to her. Diraimeir leaned towards her. “Hey? Aren’t you going to eat?”

“Thistale?” Myrid nudged her hand with the bowl. “Hey… Are you alright, my dear?” The woman gently pulled Diraimeir away so that she could lean in to put the back of her hand upon Thistale’s forehead.

With more force then Thistale should ever have been able to possess, she pushed Miryd away from her and knocked the breath straight from her lungs. It should have been the other Key. Miryd exhaled out in pain as her arms wrapped around her middle. She had been lucky enough to land a few inches left of the fire instead on top of it. Thistale set her sights on Diraimeir next.

 Thistale was on her feet now, her cloak heaped up around her ankles. Her eyes were now a deep jet black as she stalked over a shocked Diraimeir. That color began to creep out from the corner of Thistale’s mouth, cracking her skin and scales like lines of ink when a quill is touched to paper and left in one spot far too long. She screeched as she spun on her heel and came down upon Diraimeir with the fury of a storm.

There was little Diraimeir could do in his surprise save for cover himself with his arms as her nails bit at his face. Tathlyn and Sumrian worked rapidly to pry the two of them apart, though it was proving rather tricky. “Have you gone daft, woman? What’s gotten into you?” Sumrian hissed when she sunk her teeth into his arm like a wild dog.

Tathlyn wedged himself in front of Diraimeir before he positioned the butt of his blade to strike. You see, the Fai could feel what the others could not at this moment. The corruption of black magic seeped off of Thistale like a poisoned vapor, and it threatened to seep into Diraimeir. He did not want to hurt her, but… She would not stop her wild movements, and the lot of them were running out of options. Tathlyn took his time to find his mark carefully. Clunk! He managed to strike in the center of her forehead, leaving a rather nice sized welt behind and successfully keeping the taint away from the boy.

Back Thistale fell, right into Sumrian’s arms. Miryd scrambled to her like she was going to die. Had she not just gone crazy, they might have done the Fai in. But not now. Not after that horrible display of malice.

Diraimeir hid behind Tathlyn, peeking out with wide eyes as he caught his breath. They were simply glued to her. She looks so familiar, but that is quite impossible. I’ve never met a Vale before as far as I can recall. Slowly, the realization of who she was set in, and he inhaled sharply. “Tathlyn… It’s HER!” He pointed with a shaking arm; the adrenalin still fresh enough to keep himself hyped. “The woman from my dream…” Not that Tathlyn was even aware of what Diraimeir was talking about. He looked down at the Nymph as the kid began to freak out.

Now that Tathlyn got a good look at Thistale, she really did favor Diraimeir. Had she been Illitar, they could have been almost identical twins. Sumrian and Miryd eventually took notice of this fact as well.

 Thistale was scooped up by Sumrian and taken to lay in the cart for Miryd to look over, but not before a shoddy attempt at an apology was given to poor Diraimeir. It was not because they were not genuinely sorry about the attack. Diraimeir could see they were. But because of how much alike the two of them appeared. Thistale and Diraimeir even seemed to have the same mannerisms. How they stood. The way their faces lit up or how they showed fear or want or a countless number of other things. The only difference was the difference in the coloring of their skin and their hair.

Miryd looked Thistale over quietly as Diraimier trailed after her, hardly having any idea where she might be able to start in aiding her to get better. Nobody had seen these sorts of symptoms before. Thistale’s lips and mouth gradually tinted with black, like rot. Her skin felt flaky like paper. The Vale was also cool to the touch in a way that made the skin crawl. It was like touching a corpse. At least, with her out cold, she was not acting hostile towards the newcomers.

Miryd wrapped the growing purple mark on her forehead with a sorrowful sigh. “What’s this about then?” She asked, bringing her eyes to meet Diraimeir’s. “She was just fine before you joined us.” Her tone accused him of wrong-doing.

Diraimeir frowned, scratching the tip of his chin bashfully as color touched his cheeks. He glanced back at Tathlyn, whom he knew wanted an explanation as well. Guess he had no other choice. “I… I don’t know why she is like that. But I think she and I are connected.” Like it wasn’t obvious enough. “I had a dream about her…” He rubbed his arm uncomfortably before Tathlyn interjected.

“Your Haun called it a vision, eh?” He crossed his arms, shifting his gaze to Miryd. “Her state has nothing to do with him. She reeks of dark magic. No Illitar could ever dream of possessing such a thing. A curse or something of that nature most likely. She must have gained it elsewhere and carried it within her until now. Maybe he triggered it, but there is no telling where she got it from.”

Sumrian smoothed his fingers over his eyelids in agitation. “That’s not true. I know where it came from. Look, Miryd… Thistale and I are not a couple. It was a lie for her protection and for yours. She’s just an old friend of mine I needed to protect. I still do.

It’s a long story, but what you need to know right now is that I helped her escape from deep within Mount Tomnas. I had to steal her as far away from harm as I possibly could get, as fast as I could. Please understand. I didn’t think Anmarite had the power to do something like this, considering the magic of this world is fading.” He swallowed thickly. “It’s not his fault. It’s all because of that witch, I am sure.”

Miryd narrowed her eyes at Sumrian. She did not look like she was fond of the fact that she had been deceived by either of them. But she did keep that to herself for the time being. There were more pressing matters at hand. “I will deal with you later.” She said distastefully. “I’m sorry.” She patted the boy on the head.

“There is something else, though. Anmarite told me that Thistale is a piece of the Goddess Gya’a. Often, she referred to her as a Key. I know she was searching for others like Thistale. Like him.” He jutted his chin towards Diraimeir. “Perhaps this is the reason she reacted like that?”

“It would seem so. Are you sure that’s what you heard?” Tathlyn asked, rubbing his chin in thought. “That could explain an awful lot.”

Diraimeir chewed on the bottom of his lip. “It means we would be truly connected. But I am still me, and she is different from me, Key or not.” He corrected them.

“I am positive. Look, Anmarite has been looking for you for a while now, kid. She said there should be other people, or at the very least, other Keys that need to be found. It’s been her every waking thought for years now. There is one thing I really do not understand. Why have Thistale attack you?”

Tathlyn spoke now. Back on his home island, Falsworn, dark magic was familiar enough for him to have a vague understanding behind Anmarite’s intent. “She was trying to control Diraimeir. Should that ink have seeped into his body, he would have been swallowed up by it like your friend was.” Tathlyn’s expression grew serious, turning to Diraimeir to look down upon him. “You are fortunate. This time. We have to be even more careful from here on out, understand me?”

Miryd tucked Thistale in and stood. “We are lucky to be so close to Desirae then. Come on. If anyone can do anything or know of how to rid her of whatever this is, it will be the skilled hands of the Daeva.”

The camp was hastily packed up, and the fire was snuffed out. They took some of the wood with them, loading it up near the front of the wagon for later use. It had not been discussed, yet the fact that Diraimeir and Tathlyn were joining in on this venture had been assumed. Leaving the other piece of Gya’a behind was not a wise decision. Diraimeir joined Sumrian on the bench while his Fai friend mounted Ch’nuino and followed the cart after they pulled off once again in all haste, following the sight of the coastline.