Days came and went, and the face of Riversedge was well in their sight. The crash of the river still remained, along with the solitude within its walls: the quiet, the hint of smoke, and the smell of horse dung. Yet... it was too quiet. No guards greeted them. No blacksmiths, farmers, or merchants. The only comfort was a single chimney, its smoke still grazing the sky.

The guards halted the group as they knocked on the home's door.

The sound of wooden planks echoed inside. Slow steps and slow opening.

It was an elder man bearing a cane, a hat laid low on his head, with scraggly white hair, feeling for the door handle.

"Sir," the captain of the guard greeted.

"Who's there?" The elder spoke with a scratch, eyes squinted, and ears perked up.

"Captain of the guard. Are you alone?"

"Couldn't tell ya." The elder stroked their chin, "been awfully quiet lately.'

"What happened?" The captain asked with concern.

The elder paused, placing his hand on the captain's face, patting it at random, to which he awkwardly stepped back.

"This way." The elder opened the door, letting the captain and a few guards in.

The nobles led the remaining guards to the town keep, leaving the peasants to peak through the doors and windows unabated; hoping for answers. By the time Theodren and others followed suit, the door was opened.

"I'm sure you're eager to meet him, but for his sake, look to the town." The captain moved to slam the door, but Theodren blocked with his foot.

The captain stared in awe, gripping his blade and said,"you could be whipped for that."

"Let me know when you have one. I'm Theodren, and these are my companions." Theodren pointed to the others.

The captain peaked out, seeing them staring back. He raised a brow.

"Aren't you dead?"

"Yes, now let me speak with him."

"Theodren..." Carrion sighed while Valora looked puzzled.

The captain's head poked out again, peering to the then empty streets, and pulled him inside, slamming the door.

"Very well, then, speak, since you have so much in common." The captain pushed him forward, the elder staring blankly to the wall behind them.

Theodren took a seat by their side, feeling their charred hands.

"How'd you make the fire?"

The captain gave a grimacing look.

The elder chuckled.

"So keen to know what an elder can and can't do."

"I'd like an answer, sir, if you'd be so inclined."

The elder scooted forward, gripping his cane, and patted Theodren's neck, reaching his face. "You feel that?"

"I do." Theodren felt a chill.

They removed their hand, scooting back. "Next question."

Theodren grinned. "You're not too fond of them, are you?"

The captain stared in awe, as did the others, all with a hint of anger.

The elder cackled. "I'd like to get to my stew."

Theodren looked to the captain, then to the pot.

"Fine! He can eat!" The captain said sternly.

"He will, but first, he will speak to this fine young man." The elder pointed with his cane.

The captain mumbled aggressively, claiming a seat beside the guards.

"So, why are you here?" The elder smiled.

"Same reason they knocked on your door." Theodren looked to the captain.

"Which town?" The elder slanted his head.

Theodren paused, mouth sealed. "The... Capital."

The elder paused, laying back against the seat. "Shame. Was a week hence here. Loud night. Quiet morning." The elder paused, staring at the wall. "Been quiet since."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Theodren bowed.

The elder cackled. "What's your name?"

Theodren raised a brow. "Theodren."

The elder grinned, stood up, and pressed his cane towards the pot.

Theodren stood for a moment, expecting a reply, but was only given the stew's scent.

The guards soon left, though not without an aggressive slam by the door, with the room falling to quiet again.

"You still here?" The elder asked, stirring.

Theodren looked to the door, its closure beckoning stillness. "I am."

The elder stopped stirring, pouring a bowl, handing it to Theodren, then poured for himself, walking to the seat from before.

Theodren blew the stew, then sipped. It was warm, salty, with a taste of root, grain, and hog. He sat back, groaning at the taste, and uttered the most incomprehensible "thank you," sipping with fury.

"Where's Zoran?" The elder asked, prompting Theodren to cough.

"Not here."

"And companions?" They sipped gently.

"No, just me."

"That can't be right." They rested the bowl on their lap. "Why are you really here?"

"He's gone." Theodren muttered, gripping his leg.

The elder stood up, leading his cane over, and patted him on the back.

"Wouldn't be the first... Cheer up. He'll show..."

Theodren sighed, still muttering.

"I'm afraid he won't..."

The elder rested, another loud sip.

"Afraid?"

Theodren began chugging his bowl, mumbling.

"What of it?"

"Don't be." The elder reached over, patting his leg. "He has you."

Theodren finished his bowl, stood up, and marched out, standing still outside the door.

Valora bolted to him, with Carrion slow behind.

"What happened?" Carrion asked with wide eyes and a quick voice.

"You alright?" Valora approached, a look of concern.

"I'm leaving." Theodren said, walking past them, gathering his supplies.

They shortly followed.

"To where?" Carrion asked, pondering the thought. "We best gather supplies, then."

"Alone." Theodren pushed supplies to his hands, heading out the gate.

The two paused for a moment.

"Theodren!" Valora ran to meet him.

She grabbed him, but he continued, making her drag.

Carrion approached. "What about Guaren? He can still help us!"

Theodren sighed, then glanced to Valora clinging to his side, stroking her hair and pecking her forehead.

"The last time he was alone, he was burying himself by our mother's corpse." Theodren tensed, even his voice. "You tell me he's 'strong', that he'll 'get through it', that we 'have others that can help', but I know him. Every night since, I've felt nothing but dread in shutting my eyes. I'm doing this alone, not for myself, not because you can't help or don't matter, but that I fear what I'll do if you keep me for another step."

Theodren stepped again, pushing Valora aside.

"Now move out of my way."

He continued walking, meeting the horizon. To Carrion's dismay, Valora marched on, continuing her pursuit for Theodren, but it wouldn't take long to lose sight of him.
______________________________________

She sat there for a time, longing another step, but to no avail. Snow clouded the sky, coating her in its chill as she glanced up, her blue eyes reflecting its shimmer to the sun. Wind was raging overhead, a storm soon to follow, and as its tears fell, so too did she.

A figure's footsteps approached to a halt, as did its weighted breaths and warmth of its steam.

"You can't chase him forever." Carrion coughed, sitting beside her.

He wiped the snow off her face and then wrapped his cloak around her, holding her close for warmth.

He shook her, but she remained still, eyes shut.

He sighed.

He lifted her up, slow cumbersome steps, until meeting the summit, greeted by the comfort of a village cloaked in autumn morning.

"Looks like you'll miss the view." He grunted, dragging them to it. "A shame."

"Why are you talking to yourself?" A little girl grinned, standing by his feet.

He jolted back, hand on his sheath, as her grin faded to a look of fear and curiosity, as she continued,"you remember me, don't you?"

He decided then, much to his grip's dismay, not to kill her.

"Ilaria!" Came another, crouching, and full of steam.

The girl turned to them.

"Yes, mum?"

The woman grabbed the girl, arms wrapped around her, and tensed at him.

"How? How are you alive?" She paled, as did her voice.

He grinned, holding a chuckle.

"You know, I often ask myself that very question."

Her arms loosened, presenting a hand, to which Carrion gripped.

"Name's Helena Shaffer, and you're Carrion of Drakon."

"And dead, don't forget that." Carrion grinned, releasing his grip. "Do I know you?"

"Ilaria thinks so, which means you're my guest." She moved back a step, giving an awkward smile. "I-I mean, if that's alright with you."

He smiled back, nodding, and signaled them down the hill.

Ilaria was too busy fighting ice drakes, bargs, dire wolves, and making snow balls to join in.

They were quickly meeting its palisade walls, enough time for Helena to muster another question.

"So, who's the elf?"

He grunted back.

"It's Eyru, and she's a friend." He scratched his head. "The only one left, it seems."

She stopped a moment, nails digging in her hands.

"I'm sorry."

Carrion shook his head, forcing a smile.

"We're just doing what we can."
______________________________________

The village was quiet at first. Visitors, especially near winter, were a rarity, yet no doors or windows crept at their arrival. Unlike Riversedge, however, most homes were topped with smoke.

Carrion slid a finger by his sheath, eyes peering to their sides, and knocked on the nearest door.

At first, the quiet remained.. until he heard breathing on the other end.

"Is it alright if we come in? A storm's been brewing, and my friend needs-"

Wooden floor boards creaked. The breathing stopped.

He tried another door, then another, and another, until it was clear whatever Ilaria was battling had vanquished every occupant.

The two sat beside a wall, by then exhausted, and awkwardly glanced at each other. Ilaria soon joined, sitting on Helena's lap, as Valora remained at rest on Carrion's.

"Well..." Helena began, hands slithering through her daughter's hair.

"Well..." Carrion repeated, grunting to a stand. "To Riversedge, then?"

Helena meant to reply, but a violent rattle against floor boards bombarded the walls beside them.

Carrion bolted to the door, forcing it open, and unsheathed his blade, eyes peeing around. "Who's there?"

"Put the sword away, lad, and we can talk." A male voice approached, face shrouded by darkness, but with hands held high.

Carrion scanned the rest of the room, then did so.

"You said Riversedge." They lowered their hands, granting another step, revealing a face.

"I did." Carrion stated bluntly.

"You one of the Lord's men?" Their voice grew sore, like an elder, but the face seemed young.

Carrion remained at his guard, glancing to his sides.

"No, just here for a friend." Carrion stepped forward. "Why?"

"Shut the door."

He shut it, making the room fall silent.

"What happened there, if I may ask?" Carrion loosened his blade's grip.

The man sighed.

"I hoped you would know." The man approached, pushing Carrion to the door. "Get out."

"Wait!" Carrion struggled, his back slipping past the door, when a thud roared outside.

The man was wide eyed; an Eyru girl, a human woman, and a child, were drapped on his doorsteps.

He stared for a while, until two of them sprung to life, and a voice from behind spoke a retort, making him squeel.

"Erwin, why is there a half-dead Eyru on our doorstep?" A woman approached his side; an even younger face, but a voice just as old.

"I-" Erwin attempted.

"And a mother and child?" The woman prodded, gripping his shirt.

"I-I'm here too." Carrion raised a hand, as did Ilaria.

A battle ensued; a door slam, aggressive creaks, cracks, and abundant muttering.

As to prevent Ilaria's wandering gaze, Helena took her on an adventure; making animals from snow, giving them stories, until Carrion could recite all nine names she bestowed them.

Moments past, and the door opened a jar with a loud creak, eyes peaking out. They believed it was meant to be subtle.

They all looked back, and then the door opened completely.

"Care for an evening meal?" Came a softer voice, a young woman's.

Ilaria's eyes nearly burst, embracing the woman's legs, much to Helena's thwarting.

"I-" Helena began, wrinkles gracing her forehead.

"It's fine." The woman smiled warmly. "Mind if I carry her?"

Helena nodded, wrinkles fading.

"You hear that? I get to lift you!" The woman grunted heavily as she stood up. "Somehow I expected you'd be lighter."

Leading them inside, they were met with a luxurious meal. Warm meat and onion stew, barley bread, ale..no..wine?

"Apples!" Ilaria screamed.

"You ever had one?" The woman grinned, handing one to her.

Ilaria was too busy devouring it to respond, its juices soaking the woman's shirt, with Helena wrinkling again.

"Oh, aren't you just the sweetest thing?" The woman swayed her into a table chair, giving a warm smile. "Behave, and I might offer it again."

Ilaria nodded, still chewing, releasing a hand for Helena to join her.

Carrion sat on the chair over, as the hosts sat opposite. By then, Valora was set to rest in their guestroom, given a bowl as well, though without the meat.

There was an awkward pause, a quiet filled by Ilaria's chewing, until a thud near the floorboards jolted the male host to speak. "So, what brings you here?"

Helena turned to Carrion, hinting for him to speak first.

"I-" Carrion began, but was halted.

"The woman first, if you please." The female host held up a hand, a commanding presence growing ever clearer.

Helena wrinkled, looking down. "Happenstance?"

"Happenstance?" The woman questioned, confusion lingering in her voice. "Must not be a local. Courtesy isn't free."

"Oh! Sorry, here, I may have some trinkets and-" Helena's voice quickened, looking into her baggage, Ilaria's attention growing, as she was nearly at the apple's core.

The woman held up another hand. "Pardon. You misheard me. Pay with words."

With a bout of silence, another thud neared the floor, and the male host grunted, swallowing. "Tell us a story!"

Helena looked to Carrion, a nervous grin.

"Well, since you figured me out, yes, this place is new to us." Helena, again, looked to Carrion, as if begging for him to chime in. "Story..well.. Ilaria and I narrowly escaped a meeting with sea raiders. There were these strange, reptilian armored travelers that saved us."

"Reptilian.. you mean from Drakon?" The woman crossed her arms, looking to the male host.

"Can't say, but there was this tall, older one that had a certain.. presence to them." She began distancing herself from Carrion, scratching her head, and it wouldn't be long before her story's intent would dawn on her fellow guest. "They were positively drenched in blood and sweat, filling the room in a profound stench. Yet..."

The two hosts were enthralled, no longer eating, despite half their stew remaining.

"He had this smile, this.. charm about him: like a soothing whisper saying 'we'll be alright'." Helena giggled softly, covering her mouth with her palm. "And I found it repulsive."

As if on cue, Carrion finally indulged. "What was?"

"The gall to speak so subtley---amidst bloodshed."

"Fascinating! Of the few folk that visit, all we hear is that they revel in that blood like trophies. Was there.. no passion in it?"

Helena shook her head. "None."

"Well, that changes things, doesn't it?" The female host nudged the male host, to which he nodded, the two then looking to Carrion.

Carrion gaped his mouth, but the female host once again raised a hand.

"You've told us plenty." She said, looking to the guest bed in the other room, which Valora remained at rest in, then to the male host. "Erwin."

The male host stood up, bowing to Carrion.

Carrion did the same, also giving his name, and followed Erwin.
_______________________________________
The man who entered looked worn out despite having accomplished little in their eyes. Carrion's gaze locked onto him, his breath escaping as puffs of steam.

Side by side, they peered at Valora's frail form swathed in a warm blanket.

"Be fortunate my sister was so generous," Erwin remarked.

Confusion etched Carrion's face. "What do you mean?"

"Had you arrived any later, she'd be dead." The man muttered with concern.

Carrion's eyes widened. "Why? Because of some blizzard?"

The man shook his head.

"It's more than that." He pulled Carrion's hand onto Valora's. "She's still cold."

"And? She's had worse." Carrion waved his hands.

"Carrion..." The man muttered again, his words measured. "She's been poisoned."

Carrion stratched his head, stepping back, with crushed brows. "That can't be. We cured her!"

"Cured? Carrion, this can't be cured... Prolonged? Yes. Endured, but cured?" The man cupped his shoulder, sounds of a squeeling child erupting outside. "I did what I could, but I'm still human."

Carrion gripped his forebead with hid thumbs, head aching. "Then what can I do?"

There was a pause. Her food no longer steamed, and the sounds beyond the door had quieted.

"Sacrifice." The man approached, whispering. "For her."
______________________________________

Moments had passed by, and Helena had begun to worry if Carrion would ever return, when he finally did, with Erwin tending inside.

Entering the main room, the warm glow of the fire bathed him, casting a cozy ambiance on the left side of the table. Candles emitted a floral scent, prompting Carrion a moment of calm.

"What happened?" Helena asked, concern furrowing her brow. Lost in his thoughts, Carrion barely registered her words.

"Carrion sir! Tell us a story!" Ilaria chimed in, her vibrant smile blinding the melancholic air.

"Not today, Ilaria," Helena gently pulled Ilaria's shirt, keeping her at bay on her lap. "Let him rest."

As they gathered their bowls to rinse, a hushed silence enveloped the room, a long wait for him to say something. Erwin opened the door again, walking past, giving a knowing glance to Carrion, who excused himself back in the room.

Sitting beside her, his head grew heavy, and his fingers clenched it, with countless memories filling his mind, memories of her.

His weathered hands caressed Valora's cheek. It was cold. A single tear dripped down his own, but he was beyond noticing. He stood up, longing to stay, but desperate to leave, yet within that battle, Helena stepped in, hand on his shoulder from behind.

"I can't bring myself to do it." Carrion gripped his fist, filled with withered words. "It would betray everything we built, but I have no choice."

"You love her, don't you?" Helena reassured, embracing him, patting his back as he filled her shoulder with tears. "She'll know you did what you could."

Closer now, their eyes locked, and he felt the warmth and tenderness envelop him. Familiar, he felt, the touch of someone he once knew, but it was a different face.

"Is this always how you treat guests you think are scum?" Carrion wiped his eyes, a brief grin on his face, which she gave as well.

"Just the ones I cared to know." Helena stepped outside, graced by a horrifying sight. "Ilaria! That's not a butter knife!"

Ilaria appeared to be draped in a soldier's garments. There was an eating dagger in hand, iron cask pot for a helm, wooden plate for a shield, and an oversized winter coat for the body.

"Is that my coat?" Erwin peered beside the female host, who smiled back, watching the show.

"I'm a warrior, just like father!" Ilaria squirmed, fending off a mighty foe: her mother.

Alas, she was defeated, consumed by massive arms, her weapons and armor firmly snatched.

"Mother, spare me!" Ilaria beckoned, terrified.

Helena cackled like an ancient beast, and before she could compel once more, tickles engulfed her feeble body --- the room erupting into innocent laughter.

For a moment, Carrion had forgotten his reason for being there, longing for the peace the child had, before he forced himself to speak to the hostess.

"I hadn't gotten your name, but I am grateful." Carrion shook her hand, then Erwin's. "When I return, expect a fair reward."

"It's Selena, and you've done plenty."

A moment passed, a faint smile graced Helena's lips, as Carrion's eyes grew attentive of her's.

"I hope the road ahead treats you well," Carrion said, opening the door.

Helena raised her hand, smiling, as did her daughter, who pulled from her grip, rushing over, and embracing his knee.

"You didn't tell us a story!" Ilaria whined, pulling his calf. "Stay!"

"Ilaria..." Helena crossed her arms, and her daughter slowly walked back, frowning, then clinged to her leg.

His eyes looked to them all one last time, and with a cloak over his head, he departed, leaving a chilling wind that filled with snow.

Facing an uncertain abyss, a shroud of early night, a voice bitter and blinding, he knew there was little time left.
______________________________________

Valora jolted awake as the sun broke through the horizon. Surrounding her were the close confines of wooden walls and a lone window. The room carried the distinct scent of saltwater. Confusion fogged her mind, and she scratched her head, trying to shake off the sleep.

Footsteps echoed outside, accompanied by hushed voices that grew louder before fading into silence. Barefoot, she stood up, straining to make out their words, but they eluded her grasp.

The door flew open with sudden force, causing Valora to stumble onto the floorboards, her heart pounding.

"Ah, you're awake!" The figure said, cloaked by a bright light behind them.

"W-where am I?" she managed to stammer.

"Why, my dear, you're on our ship! We'll be home in a day or so," the being replied, looking down at her with a gentle hand caressing her face.

"Wait...father?" Her eyes lit up with recognition.

"I suppose that means you're awake," he said, patting her head.

She recoiled, pushing his hand away, and stumbled backward, crawling towards the corner of the room.

"Why hide? Almar can't hurt you here," he said, his voice laced with a calming reassurance, reminiscent of an evening sun.

"Stay back!" Tears streamed down her face, her body shaking.

Aran let out a sigh, closing the door and locking it. The room fell into darkness.

"Sir," a guard approached him.

"...I know... My mere presence gives her nightmares," Aran replied wearily. "Continue our course to Arandoth."

The captain received the signal, and the sails caught the wind, propelling the ship forward.

In the silent darkness, Valora's trembling ceased, not out of calm but anticipation.

She breathed slowly and silently, her eyes fixated on the door, waiting for the opportune moment. When it finally arrived, she swiftly darted towards the bed, deftly raising it to gain access to the window.

With a swift motion, she broke off a piece of the bed frame and struck the window, unleashing the deafening roar of the raging sea. Shards of glass flew across the room. The door flung open again, but before Valora could react, she fell to the ground, the light fading along with the sound of approaching footsteps.

_______________________________________

Sven found himself aboard a ship, heading towards his distant homeland, far beyond the grasp of... him. Uncertainty flickered across Sven's expression, catching the attention of the men on deck. Some sneered, others watched with curious eyes, but Sven paid no mind to their jibes.

"Do I still have friends there? I truly hope so," Sven murmured, his mind filled with worries and his own perceived lack of courage.

Seeking warmth, Sven wrapped himself in a thick blanket, layering it over two fur coats. The ship resembled the one they previously used to meet Guaren, its capacity ample enough to accommodate a score of adults and a handful of children. The northern sea, perpetually chilly but eerily calm, had a way of making one forget the biting cold, for the beauty it unveiled at night surpassed all others at sea.

"Well, with nothing better to do, I best begin," Sven said to himself, a smile gracing his lips amid the cacophony of drunks around him. He laid a meticulous pen, forged in metal. Positioned to his right, a sheet of paper eagerly awaited the events that had led him to that pivotal moment.

And so it was: legends turning into truths, mysteries becoming reality.

Chaos was once a word spoken of with no respect, used to mock or react with injustice, but now it has turned the deck from all the edges.

There's nothing left but darkness; fear, the unknown, the things children cry to their parents from in the night. Yet, humanity enjoys this power, and many wish for the chaos to take hold of them!

Where must we stand? How can I, along with the few who strive against it, keep our feet up? We journey miles from each other, though our beliefs still hold strong to defy the impossible... We ride forward...

Heavy footfalls smashed against solid ground, the cry of a horse and the call of its rider. Carrion embarked on a journey, armed with naught but a flicker of hope. Unbeknownst to Valora and Sven, the battle was far from over.