Despite an influential history, Paladians weren't always welcomed with open arms. There were a few races and certain people who'd, if they could, treat Paladians much like how the world frowns upon the general idea of demons.

This stemmed from the fact that Paladians weren't the first people who stepped on the soils of Errarion, creating families and eventually reaching the point they're at today. That title would be going to none other than Erans.

The name came from Errarion, obviously, as they were the first primitive people wandering the unnamed countries and building the soon-to-be standards of the Mainland. They were the figurative beginning, which meant that every human came from the most basic of races. They didn't have features that made them particularly stand out; their hair was always dark, their skin a bit on the greyish side and their ears, lips or eyes were unchanged.

Such characteristics came from those who decided to leave the safe space that is now known as the Empty Fields and venture elsewhere. Then, as the First War peeked its head out, Erans were forced to make a change, abandoning the rummaged Erania, and eventually running around Errarion before finding homes in various places. Some tried blending among the crowds, but stood out too much, which led to most living outside of the towns.

...and standing out, as in, Erans were boring. The people didn't have any tradition which stemmed from nature or belief, be it, even if they tried adapting to the needs and wants of others, they felt like it didn't fit the calm and uneventfulness of what they once had.

Furthermore, they deemed other races as strange. In their logic, others came from the first human of their blood, so they should be thanking them for their existence. It was really up to that group of families to do something back then, and yet, they chose to remain in a safe cocoon which didn't last for that long. Demons attacked the country of Erania in the First War, which spiralled into things no one necessarily feels like repeating.

However, they had one thing that made them stand out which, surprisingly, wasn't the hate for most races, but rather a strange and primitive way of writing. It wasn't old or modern Manjuno, they didn't write letters but scribbled on little drawings. That influence flew to Asno, where it was changed into a way of depicting already-written history.

Lisbeth always strolled past such symbols on the walls, tracing them with her fingertips and stopping at a few to ponder their meaning. Not everything was clear, despite Shi Hon's explanations.

She understood the X inside a circle, which meant the four-quarters of Mount Aria (Lot, Harm, Orange and Ora, north, east, south and west if you were wondering), but carrying a topia torch didn't seem to enlighten the other cryptic depictions.

What on earth could the numbers, crossed through with a line possible mean? They weren't of the mineral chalk of Cirim but ripped into the wall with a dried-out black liquid standing out atop the dark grey rocks. She flinched, turning around, as if hearing a sound, but nothing was there.

Heading further upwards, with a wind's howl, she turned her gaze towards drawings she could never comprehend. It resembled some gloomish tower, with eight different, faceless demons flying up towards the one who stood atop. Their face, instead of being featureless, was replaced with a sun, shining above the land and towards believers lying down on grasses which spread towards something in the distance.

That something was a rope connecting Mount Aria with some sort of volcano. It had three peaks, each higher than the other, with the last being open and spewing lava. The magma seemed to cascade over another cave, which eventually turned into prison bars, with two hands holding onto steel.

Such scrobbles were made with either red or white paint. Sometimes, the more important elements had green or blue markings, and the walls of Mount Aria turned into empty canvases stolen from various Mirillians. She remembered the day she and Isak were tasked to find one in Soban, and then Shi Hon spent the next weeks all alone, never showing his work. He'd disappear for hours, and the paintings were nowhere to be found either.

She pointed the torch at the staircase, and eventually her steps echoed into the upper chambers of Mount Aria. Stepping into Shi Hon's room, it was quiet. The dim red light from the chandelier changed into nothing, as the only thing that managed to enlighten her path was the topia she already carried.

"Shi Hon?" she asked, putting the torch on one of the open handles. To her surprise, the rest of the chamber lit up with some spell, revealing the circular room.

Everything seemed normal, except for what once was a hole in the wall, now replaced with a painting of similar skies.

The chandelier shone on the empty throne. Shi Hon wasn't present.

"Days passed since." Leiru stepped in from behind, clenching both hands behind his back. "As if it was a green light without any words."

Lisbeth sucked in air through her teeth. With a turn, she was ready to announce the exact same thing as before, but then, Leiru raised two fingers, with something stuck between them.

The demoness took a step back, breathing in.

"Recognize?" he asked, flipping it around. "A pendant stolen from Ildro Mirillians, housing pegasuses in caves below. The little medal is of curious origin as well. Some say its material was made from the same thing some Ancient equipment houses." his eyes pierced Lisbeth's. "A rare find, isn't it?"

"It was buried alongside the memory of Yanma."

"But it wasn't him who obtained it. You'd be gathering your looks at Aishao in that case. Someone as powerful as that deserves some credit. A gift for your loved one."

Lisbeth clenched her fist.

"I'm just saying before you add anything." he hid it in a pocket of his loose pants. "We could find lots more on our way there. Even reclaiming a part of what made Yanma."

"Chyuuichi?"

"Or whatever he was called. Ildro Mirillians don't go as far as Soban, but tales work like magnets. One fissure strike, and maybe you'd find an even shinier price. You have the strength to do, besides..."

As the wind howled, Leiru's sharp finger pointed to the painting.

"He's not watching," he uttered.

Lisbeth let go of her fist and squinted her eyes.

***

Atomu woke up to the sun cascading over his face, as well as a few flute-like sounds somewhere nearby. When his vision unblurred, turning to the clear skies barely visible through the thick layer of tree crowns, he focused on the creature covering most of his view.

He quickly yelled out, as a small bird chirped, earlier sitting on his pointy nose, quickly flying towards the branches above. Atomu gulped, sitting up, and brushing sweat off his face.

Scratching both hands, he unwillingly turned to Bancho's body. It was still there, although another bird sat atop the cloth. He smiled, lightly, moving a little.

His gaze shifted towards where Chyuuichi once lay.

Once, because his body was gone.

"Ch-Chyuuichi?" he called for the Mirillian, and without another clue as to what could have happened, he uttered "Rowan?" as well.

No answer, except for the same flute-like sounds from earlier. At first, he thought they came from the birds of Orawood, after all, the blue-beaked sitras were believed to sing tunes to calm the heart of travellers, but Paladians knew that their voices were closer to clarinets than flutes. The only thing that could make that sound was the actual instrument or, as Atomu once learnt from Jyuzou, an oppiah, only found in the Malikan Dear.

Hesitantly, he stood, peeking his head out from behind the thick oaks and finding the source of the various noises. Chyuuichi was sitting on a log, playing on the flute, as a few squirrels gathered around his feet.

He grinned, throwing a few chopped-up pieces of meat he carried in his bag, as the animals inched closer.

"Lignorian squirrels don't eat meat!" Chyuuichi added, quickly turning to Atomu. "I have no nuts either, though!"

Atomu reached his hand out, taking a few steps before almost tumbling upon one of the bigger roots. His concerned expression quickly softened, as he stood behind the Mirillian and hugged him tightly.

"Huh," Chyuuichi sighed. "Ya don't seem mad that I borrowed yer flute again!"

"I-It's not about the flute..." Atomu uttered, eventually letting go.

"I have to admit, you're quite talented." Rowan stepped in from the side, fixing their ponytail, carrying an arrow in the other hand, with one of the various Felix foods stuck on its tip. "It's not magic that attracts those animals, but rather, a melody which stems from how softly your fingers land on the holes."

Atomu scratched his eyes.

"Took you quite a while to finally wake up," Rowan smirked.

The Paladian stepped back. "I guess I did catch s-some sleep after all." he scratched the back of his neck.

Rowan nodded.

"Thank ya!" Chyuuichi raised his voice. "Mama always wanted me to be in the Soban flute choir, until my sister was born!" he raised the instrument in one hand. "Although now, I think that responsibility lays on my father!"

Rowan glimpsed at Atomu, quickly, before putting one hand on their hip. Chyuuichi turned to the Paladian's open bag and stuffed the instrument back in, throwing it to Atomu who almost caught it. "Alright, let's not waste any more time!"

The Tributal took a few steps towards Atomu, who stared forward, seeing as Chyuuichi made haste towards an unknown direction. "In the cold mornings of the frosty Yule, when the snow dances around the cliffs!" he sang, very loudly. "Eat all the food until yer full, set out to explore this world's mists!"

It seemed that, despite everything, Chyuuichi was back to being the same person, personality-wise. His body was arguably much thinner, contrasting the usual square-like proportions of Mirillians, and his skin was still as pale as yesterday. The bandage and cloth wrapped around his palm didn't seem to strike a nerve and a smile that often painted his face was present.

Despite that, he looked tired. Atomu squinted his eyes, in worry. "Does he know?"

"I didn't tell him." Rowan shook their head, furrowing one brow. "I don't think wasting as much time on explanations would be easy."

"Take a bag in your hand, an atlas of this world, a weapon to mend, or a pillow to sleep by the pond!" Chyuuichi accented the last word. "From the cold basin doors to the warm blue fronts! From the sunny boars to the great sandy shores!"

"I-I think so too, but I don't want him to overthink it." Atomu shook his head.

"I get it. He's Bahiim to you." Rowan uttered. "That's much more than just a friend, or travelling company."

Atomu unsurely nodded. He couldn't bear the sight of Chyuuichi knowing that something was wrong, the go-happy attitude fading into a frown and sadness that greatly opposed the person he was. Stupid at times, for sure, but that was who Chyuuichi was, and the Mirillian didn't pretend to be someone else.

Chyuuichi halted his step, turning to the two, tilting his head. Atomu quickly gulped.

"What's the hold-up?" he asked, waving. "Come on, y'all!"

"Coming." Rowan raised their voice, quickly glancing at Atomu and bumping his shoulder.

"Atomu, ya lead the way, don't ya?!" Chyuuichi asked.

"I do," Atomu answered, awkwardly. The two quickly stepped towards the Mirillian and looked at him. He too, analyzed their glimpses, with his expression turning into a knowledgable smirk.

He turned forward and sighed. "Ya know that I heard everything, right?"

Rowan furrowed both brows, looking at the two, back to back. "What?"

"What did ya hear?" Atomu blinked.

"That my life's on a limit!" Chyuuichi continued.

"Y-You don't seem too troubled?!" Atomu extended his arms.

"Didn't you faint back then?" Rowan asked.

"Well, not exactly." Chyuuichi scratched his head. "It was weird. Like, in between sleep and awake, but I could only hear. I didn't see and I shant've moved my body! It was scary!" Chyuuichi's eyes shrank. "So I listened in, and learned stuff that made me even more nervous then! I heard yer story Rowan, and man..." he shook his head. "Phew! I get why ya don't like me now!"

"It's not like that!" The Tributal raised their voice.

"...and yer suggestions and ideas, Atomu. It seemed that Rowan already knew the truth too! Brainy guy! Person, I mean." he shook his head. "...and then there's me in this conversation. Poor old Chyuuichi." he imitated a crying sound before his smirk grew even bigger. He punched Atomu's forearm and Rowan's stomach, playfully, stepping further away in confidence. "Ya have the balls to pour poison into my veins, but if it stops me from dying, then so be it! The only thing we need to do is reach Orania, then, and I'll be fine!"

Atomu unsurely glanced at Rowan, who was still recovering from the earlier hit. They wanted to strike back but stopped themselves right as Chyuuichi's eyes met theirs for a moment. Atomu breathed out, leaning against a tree, brushing sweat off his forehead, while Chyuuichi's smirk turned into a light smile.

"If dragons exist, then a place like Orania has to as well!" he fixed his backpack, closed his eyes, and took another step forward. "Come on and back it up, time to travel! The snow melts, and Herbes comes to spring!"

Atomu sighed, fixing his falling locks and staring forward at the Mirillian.

If Orania existed, Chyuuichi would be saved from death, and Bancho would receive a proper burial. Death was something which always seemed to circle back to Klakunhoi, and especially concerning Rowan's story, dangers only seemed to multiply along the way.

"It better be there, Atomu," Rowan uttered.

Songs, though. They were never about death. Even when Elton's body was buried, they sang the tune of birth. The only thing the Paladian could count on was another song, somewhere in the woods, which would save Chyuuichi's life.