The Month of Harvest was drawing to a close. With Oakengrove's promise in his possession, Roderick, along with the rest of the Warband, traveled to a town a hundred miles east of Anslo and eighty miles south of Gelwood. Known as Onor, it was primarily a mining and refinery town. The coal trade brought the Helsmouth family out of the farming life and into a more profitable line of work. Roderick spent a few years as a child worker in the mines, helping with simple tasks. He hated that aspect of his life.

Onor sprawled out across the rolling hills. Dozens of smoke plumes pumped thick sooty ash into the sky, blowing the powerful odor of chemicals and burnt material across the countryside. Simple wooden walls surrounded the town, supported by watch towers, provided basic protection against outside attacks. A hundred miles away from the capital and its surrounding cities meant that the Vikan army was often too far away to deal with local threats. Onor was just short of a thousand residents and sported an Adventurer's Guild outpost, but still relied on a volunteer militia to keep a round-the-clock watch.

Thick forests filled with abundant wildlife covered the hills that the town was built on. The same forests also served to be prime hunting grounds for thieves and highwaymen. During the nights, wolves howled at the moon and the lone wanderers who'd gotten too drunk to return home sometimes disappeared entirely.

A wooden carriage carried the whole warband across the countryside to Onor. Roderick arranged the trip shortly after Oakengrove's visit. Despite wanting to go at it solo, as this was a family matter, Sedel pushed back. Roderick's mind stopped wandering for a moment and he picked up on the conversation occurring before him.

"...downside of a pike, though, is that it's so bloody long," Sedel said.

Roshka folded his arms across his chest, saying, "It's leagues better than a gnollish whip. That thing is ready to rip itself apart."

Finnegan produced the whip. Even from Roderick's angle, it was very clear that it wasn't just fraying, but tearing itself apart. "I like stabby things more." The tasaki then pulled out a small dagger. It was one of Roshka's backup knives.

"You should learn some magic, Finny. That way, you can still do something you like, even without your favorite weapon." Sedel proposed, pulling out a comedically titled book, 'Casting for Dummies.'

Dmahdi cackled loudly, "Reading? Bah! Why read when you can just stab harder?"

Sedel held out her hand, ready to challenge Dmahdi, but her wrist went limp as she processed what was said. "I... That's not... Dmahdi..." she groaned.

Dmahdi shrugged, "What? You read from a spell book. I just swing my diamond sword."

Roshka tilted his head in confusion. He eyed Dmahdi and then looked at her halberd. "Last I checked, that's neither a sword nor made of diamond."

"I can dream, Harold." Dmahdi scoffed.

Roshka slowly turned his head to look at Sedel for any kind of support, but even she was at a loss for words.

Roderick smiled and stretched his limbs. "Good to see all of you are still in high spirits."

"I just got called Harold," Roshka argued, gesturing to himself. "Do I look like a Harold?"

"Could always give you some purple chalk," Roderick smirked. He missed the banter. The self-enforced isolation after his death trapped him with his own debasing thoughts. He had spent most of the boat ride home demoralized, disconnected, and absent. For once, he felt the warmth in his heart come back.

Roshka pouted and crossed his arms. "Bah! Purple chalk doesn't exist."

Then Finnegan let out a wild fox laugh. All at once, everyone fell silent and stared at him. His paw slowly reached into a bag and pulled out a vial of purple dye and some white chalk. "Want to make it exist?"

"Where did you get purple dye? Better yet, why do you have purple dye?" Roderick sputtered.

"Tastes funny," Finny said, uncorking the bottle of dye and popping it all in one gulp.

"Roshka, I think your tasaki is broken," Sedel said, shifting her seat on the bench away from the orange tasaki.

Roshka rested his face in the palms of his hands, defeated. "I noticed."

Sedel leaned over, resting an elbow on Roderick's shoulder. "I see you're no longer an empty husk. Welcome back to the land of the living."

"Har, Har," Roderick mockingly laughed, "I am feeling a little better now." He pulled the jar from the pocket of his jacket and clenched it. "Soon enough, I won't have to worry about the things I spent my life worrying about."

Sedel nodded. "I'm glad I was right about that treant."

"If I'm to be brutally honest, Sedel," His smile faded as he dwelled on the thought in the forefront of his mind. "I'm waiting for the catch. What does he want from us?"

"You told me a few months ago that you were a Florist once." Sedel leaned over and grasped his shoulder. "Have faith that he'll take care of his own, without requiring something in return."

Roderick shook his head, denying the suggestion. "That's never how it works. Not in the Odissian Pantheon, not in the Elven Pantheon, not with the Hellish Princes."

The surrounding air tensed up. Roderick's mind was still heavy with grief and frustration and, willingly or not, he'd opened it up in front of them all. Dmahdi chimed in with some words of encouragement. "If it works, great. If not, we will cross that bridge when we get there. Try not to let doubt control you, yeah?"

Roderick took a deep breath and mumbled something beneath his breath.

The ride fell silent for about an hour. Then the raton spoke up. "How long have you all been working together?"

Sedel and Dmahdi both started counting on their fingers. "About ten years now, I think?" Sedel sounded unsure. "Long enough, either way."

Firish nodded. "How did you all get together?"

Dmahdi quickly jumped in. "Our first mission was one hell of a trip. There was this big scarecrow that had come alive. Damn thing was a puppet. What did you call it, Sedel?"

Sedel thought about it for a moment. "Kind of like a golem. The summoner's prime pick. Except this thing stank of necromancy. Apparently, some graveyard nearby was being harassed by some drunkard with magical capabilities that he didn't know he had."

"Yeah, that was our first mission in the guild. When we brought the drunkard in, they were all so confused. I think they gave him basic magic class so he could control it." Dmahdi's voice trailed as she tried to remember it clearly.

"Then Finnegan and I joined up about four years ago," Roshka added. "In our efforts to find ourselves a new home, we stumbled into Roderick, who gave us exactly what we were looking for."

Firish smiled, "Been looking for something similar myself. I got caught up in the gnollish slave camp when Belmont got raided about ten years ago. I had my group I was traveling with. We worked as hired guns on a merchant ship. Never got the chance to flee port."

A sorrowful but heartwarming smile came from the rest of the warband. "Then I'm glad we helped when we did," Sedel said.

Firish looked over to her weathered musket, "I miss them, I really do. I was the only one out of the twelve of us to escape the flames and even then, I escaped into the cuffs of slavery. Gods, I want to shove the barrel down every single one of those gnolls."

"It'll be awhile before any of us are ready for round two, Firish. Be patient," Sedel countered.

"To liven the mood, if I may," Roshka chimed in, "We still have a lot of platinum left over from the Lamia. After this, we should all go on a well-earned shopping spree. Not just for new equipment or repairs, but actually for ourselves. I've been eyeing this really nice starry corset for a while."

Dmahdi stood up and held her arms up high. "Shopping day! Wooooo!"

The carriage pulled into the intercity transport station and offloaded its travelers. Roderick took a deep breath, breathing in a suffocatingly dusty coal air. Dmahdi pulled the collar of her shirt to her nose, coughing between words, "No wonder we never visit."

Sedel aggressively jabbed her elbow into Dmahdi's side.

Roderick led them down a couple of roads to his family's house. It was larger than its neighbors. The two-story reinforced cobblestone house stood as the pinnacle of its street. Strangely enough, there was a sort of familiarity to the house's appearance. Sedel stepped forward and poked Roderick about it. "This looks very similar to our shared house."

Roderick looked upward towards the second story. "When we got it, I had it remodeled to match it. My way of feeling like I was home while being so far away."

Sedel smiled at the gesture, but the moment of levity was bashed. Dmahdi pushed past them and popped open the door, barking loudly into the house, "Sweet baby, Dmahdi's home!"

To the rear of the house was the kitchen where an older human couple had gathered. They turned to look at the soil-covered green-skin orc in loungewear in abject horror. Dmahdi gave them a very toothy and tusk-showing grin.

Roderick quickly moved to position himself in front of his eager orcish friend. "Mom, Dad, I'm back."

Roderick's parents looked to be no older than their mid-fifties. Age, however, still showed itself through their wrinkles and graying hair. His dad stood around the same height as him whilst his mother was about a foot shorter. The old man pulled a toothpick from his mouth and flicked it away. "Well, well, I'll be damned. My son has finally paid a visit." There was some poison behind those words. A poison that Roderick flinched at.

His mother, however, being the epitome of grace and compassion that he always bragged about, smacked the old man's forearm. "If you talk like that, it'll be another two years before we see him again." She held out her arms open with a welcoming smile. "Come, give your mom a hug."

Roderick walked up to her and bent over to hug her. "I was originally planning to come alone, but they insisted they tag along," Roderick explained. He then listed off each of their names, but before he could say his parents' names to them, his dad interrupted.

"Ulysses Helsmouth," the old man tried to speak with some authority over them. "While I do not mind the company, I ask, as kindly as I can, that you all understand that this is my private home, not a bar, and that you behave as such."

Roderick's mom again shunted him aside, trying to ease the tension that he was so desperately trying to stir. "Ignore him. He means well. Take off your shoes and coat at the door, dears. There are some extra chairs in the basement. Ricky, if you could."

Roderick gestured to Dmahdi, "Give me a hand, will ya?"

The orc nodded, feeling slightly threatened by Ulysses' harsh demeanor, and followed Roderick downstairs.

"Ully, please, get the dishes, I'll see to our guests," she pushed for him to do something else that didn't involve inventing issues. With him temporarily distracted, she clasped her hands and smiled. "Well, come to the dining room. I want to know more about you all."

Dinner was a warm and filling stew made with homegrown potatoes and shredded beef. Dmahdi declared dinner finished with a loud belch. The meal itself was silent as the unwelcoming glare from Rodericks' dad made everything that much more difficult. Roderick then asked his dad, "Where's Mirvelle?"

For a moment, Ulysses' stiff expression broke. "She's been asleep for a week. The healers came by two days ago to do another round of restoration. She doesn't have much strength left in her. They won't be coming back."

Roderick abruptly stood up, knocking the chair back and over. There was a tinge of anger and frustration that was showing. "They take their pay?"

Roderick's mom nodded, slowly and worriedly.

He produced the jar of soil he'd gotten from Oakengrove and gripped it tightly. "I'm going to get my sister back." Roderick then got up from the table and took to a mad but determined march to the upstairs.

Sedel jumped up to follow, and then Dmahdi and Firish joined immediately after. Finnegan turned to Roshka, who quietly shook his head.

Canvas paintings of scenes from sights all around the world decorated the bedroom his sister had gone dormant in. Beside her narrow bed on a worn and weathered hand-me-down nightstand was a faded porcelain vase with fresh flowers in it. The curtains parted, allowing the afternoon light to come in. With the door open, Roderick stopped himself and took several deep breaths, letting go of the contempt that brewed deep within him. Now was a time for miracles. He walked in and greeted his sister, who was drastically different from him.

Slumbering her last days away in bed, beneath yellowing quilted blankets, was a young but gaunt dark elven woman with sunken eyes and ragged ink-black hair. She looked to be nothing more than a breathing corpse, barely any sign of muscle to be seen. He knelt beside her and spoke softly, "I'm here, sis. I'm not letting go. Not yet."

Sedel watched from around the corner and stopped Dmahdi from interrupting. The two watched in silence, letting Roderick have his peace. Sedel crossed her fingers, hoping for the best, hoping for the same miracle Roderick spent his whole life praying for.

The cork popped out with ease. Roderick remembered the instructions clearly. He moved her almost rigid arms into place with the mossy twig woven between her fingers. The moment it touched her skin, he saw the power of Oakengrove take form. The twig slowly grew new stems and leaves, coiling itself around her fingers. It was a sign to continue. He pried her mouth open. The moist soil in the jar slid into her parched mouth and tumbled down her throat. Her body pushed back against the unwanted contaminants, but he pushed the rest down with the water from the flower vase.

He rested his own hands on top of hers. The twig had grown into one massive glove of soft wood that embraced her extremities. He closed his eyes and let the silence of the house encompass them both. It helped that Sedel and Dmahdi stopped everyone else from even getting close. A desperate prayer for help came forth from beneath his gasps of breath.

The room filled with a whispering wind that grew louder and louder, bringing in a cacophony of rustling leaves. He dared not look at it unless it disappeared forever. He continued his prayers, focusing harder, stopping only when a large, heavy wooden hand grabbed onto his shoulder.

Through the blurred, tearful eyes, Roderick saw the giant form of Oakengrove beside him. The treant's soft brown eyes glowed vibrantly with a golden tinge behind them. A surge of magic blew the room into a windy frenzy. Streaks of green light rippled through the surrounding space, coalescing into a focused, electrifying arc at the palm of the treant's hand.

Then the world around Oakengrove froze in place. He stood up, knocking his head into the ceiling. His panicked eyes darted around him. Then he snapped his head at the sound of a voice behind him. Before him stood Syna, the goddess of the life cycle. "What are you doing here? What is going on?" he asked brashly.

Syna wore a solid black gown and a laced veil that obscured her face. She wore a sorrowful expression on her pale face. "I want to have a discussion with you about your role in all of this."

Oakengrove tensed up. "You're interfering with my promise to help this woman."

"What if it was never your place to help her?" Syna argued. "What if her role in this life was done? What would altering that fact do to the very reality that we all live in?"

Oakengrove turned back, taking a long look at the dying elf. "Whose right is it to say that I can't? Who can tell me what I can or cannot do with the powers given to me?"

"Those powers were never meant to stay yours," Syna sneered. "Those were stolen from me."

The treant's hands balled up angrily into fists. "Yet you refused to help this man, someone who pleaded to you for help, for relief from this torment."

"It is my job to maintain the balance between life and death," Syna stomped her foot as she spoke. "I told Roderick what he needed to hear, to keep him doing good. By saving her, you remove his motivation, you change not just his course but everyone else who was supposed to be saved by him."

Oakengrove shook his head, refusing to listen. "Before us, both is a man betrayed. He turned from me to you because an absent god cannot save a mortal from their fate." He huffed out a breath of annoyance. "I remembered who I once was, Syna. Through these past few months, I've recollected bits of my memories, piecing together a fragment of history that is the ancient god of not just the forest, but of life itself. I am Oakengrove."

Syna's gaze turned back to the dark elf. "You do not know the actual history behind it all. The problems this world endured. Life cannot grow endlessly. It will consume itself into oblivion. But," she relinquished her position, much to Oakengrove's surprise. "Try it. See what happens. Odis will find amusement in your return. He's found entertainment in Enderia's and Sura's downfall."

Oakengrove's eyes shifted to a blazing yellow. He did not want to be toyed with, nor did he appreciate the condescending tone she took with him. "I'm no lesser by comparison to you. You may have replaced me in my absence, but I dare Odis to come after me. No dragon will overpower the will of nature itself. Now go, before I do something I will regret."

Then everything was back to normal. The human goddess had disappeared from view. Oakengrove's magic momentarily faded from the room, a side effect of being interrupted. The treant once again began channeling his power with renewed fervor.

A heavy gasp echoed from the dark elf's lips as her skin stretched out and reshaped to its more natural appearance. The faded brown-gray color shifted to a darker slate-gray and her blue eyes bulged open as she shot upright in the bed.

Hearing her awaken, Roderick leaped up and hugged her tightly. For a moment, the overwhelming joy he felt broke the dam of emotions welled up deep within him. Tears of every emotion flowed from him. A veritable miracle happened before him. A miracle because he trusted a power greater than his own. He pushed the thought aside and relished the moment.

He vocally thanked Oakengrove, only to realize that neither he nor the growing branch was present. He leaned his sister back down on the bed, still smiling from ear to ear. "Mirvelle, it's so good to have you back."

For the first time in eight years, he heard her voice. She was quiet, hesitant to strain her rejuvenated vocal chords. She looked up at him with a shimmer in her starry blue eyes, and despite speaking no louder than a whisper, spoke with glee, "I can feel my body. I can see you, brother."

Roderick stood upright and called out, "Dmahdi! Sedel! Mom, Dad! Mirvelle is awake!"

A stampede of seven people barged through the narrow doorframe and filled the room. Ulysses was forefront and center. His jaw hung loosely open, stretching the hairs of his grayed goatee. "How?" he stammered in bewilderment. "How is this possible? The healers said she'd be dead in a few days."

Roderick stood beside the bed. "I learned something today. Miracles can still happen." He turned to Sedel with the biggest genuine smile he could make. "And all it took was a little faith."

Sedel smiled back and bowed her head, acknowledging him.

Roderick reached down and grabbed Mirvelle's hand. "Twelve years of prayer, frustration, and anger are over," he began. "My sister is back, and this means we celebrate!"

Dmahdi, a little too quick on the draw, let out a deep guttural and thunderous roar, causing everyone else in the room to cover their ears reactively. It wasn't just deafening; it was overpowering. As her breath dwindled, her voice surrendered, and she nodded with emboldened confidence.

Roderick, recovering from the auditory domination, stuck a finger in his ear, twisting to help his hearing return. "Before we do, Dmahdi," he stared her down, then looked at his dad. "I know I've been absent for years with nothing more than a few letters to answer for it, and for that, I'm sorry. I let my anger and contempt get the better of me and I let my disdain of complacency dictate my relationship when I should've used a clear head."

Ulysses held up a single finger to silence him. "You're not the only one who should be apologizing. I, too, have made an ass of myself because of your absence. I'm sorry for being an ass to you and your companions."

The next morning, the warband and Mirvelle all boarded the carriage to Anslo, to partake in one big celebratory shopping spree...