Barlow stood in the centre of the room, staring in shock at the former Greencloak. All of the memories of this man that he had met came rushing back to him. The Four Heroes, the battle with Arax, Zerif...

He took a step forward, studying him closer. His appearance had changed a lot. He still had his brown eye, except the other was yellow and serpent-like, reminding Barlow of Gerathon. Black veiny marks lined under his yellow eye, running down his neck and under his clothes. He couldn't imagine the scars he had underneath, he heard that this man's death was terrible. Even his skin looked as grey as slate. A black crown with red rubies encrusted into it sat neatly on top of his head, and a black cloak draped behind him.

"Tellun's antlers!" Barlow cried out. "You look terrible."

"Thanks?" the man stepped forward, sounding surprised. "You don't look so great yourself."

Barlow was surprised that the King had embraced him, but he was more shocked about the fact that this King was Tarik himself. He never expected to see him like this, in such a position that he'd be known by all of Erdas.

"It has been too long, my friend. Please take a seat," Tarik motioned with his hand towards a chair. Except there was no chair.

The air where Tarik's hand was had warped and rippled into something that Barlow couldn't quite make out. He watched it for a moment, and then a table as long as the room appeared, chairs with it.

Barlow stared at Tarik. "I must be dreaming."

Tarik shook his head and smiled slightly. "I'm afraid you are not."

Barlow looked around and realised that they were alone. Even the creepy horse was gone. "Where did everyone go?"

Tarik did not answer. Instead, he stared out at nothing. His eyes were wide and Barlow couldn't quite tell what his friend was thinking. Then the man blinked and shook his head. "I'm sorry, did you say something?"

Barlow watched Tarik make his way to his large black throne which was at the end of the table. "Umm, no... not at all," he made his way over to the chair closest to Tarik.

"Do you know why we are here, Barlow?" Tarik asked, his eyes narrowing at him.

"I wish I knew," Barlow admitted, struggling to keep eye contact.

Tarik was silent for a moment and then looked away. "I wish I knew too."

Barlow frowned at him. "You don't know?"

"Do you think anyone here knows? If they did, it would be because I would have told them. If I don't know, they don't know." Tarik sounded a little frustrated at him, and Barlow couldn't figure out why.

Barlow remembered coming to Nighthaven and meeting two soldiers. They too, had no idea why they were here. Barlow silently kicked himself for being so stupid.

"King Tarik?" a voice called from the door as it opened. A man with long blonde hair tied back into a bun appeared.

"Yes, Dorian?" answered Tarik.

The man named Dorian approached Tarik with a letter in his hand. A horned owl was perched on his shoulder. "A letter, from what looks like the Lightcloaks."

Barlow noticed Tarik's face light up. "Thank you."

When Dorian had handed over the letter and left, Tarik couldn't resist opening it.

"Who are the Lightcloaks?" Barlow asked.

"They are Greencloaks from the first Devourer War," answered Tarik as he opened up the letter.

The first Greencloaks! Barlow couldn't believe it, they were alive too?

Tarik's face changed again, back to how it was before. His typical, serious look. He put the letter down and rubbed his eyes.

"What is it?" Barlow dared to ask.

"The Lightcloaks want to meet me," Tarik sighed.

"Is that a bad thing?" questioned Barlow.

"I don't suppose you also have half of Gerathon morphed with you?" Tarik stood up, angry.

Barlow stood up and backed away. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

Tarik's serpent eye was flashing with anger, before he suddenly calmed down. "I'm sorry."

Barlow's scythe had magically appeared in his hand from his fear. Tarik stared at it in horror.

"You've come to kill me," he whispered.

"No! I haven't, I would never," Barlow tried to make it disappear, but it only stayed.

"You're the reaper," Tarik stared at him. "But who have you come for?"

Barlow shrugged. "Perhaps Zerif or General Gar?"

Tarik's eyes flashed again. "I beg your pardon?"

"Uh, I mean... I don't know," Barlow realised that Tarik has triggers. Perhaps it was Gar's name, because he killed him.

"We have to meet with the Lightcloaks," Tarik paced the room, the table and chairs vanishing. "You should come with me."

"Me? But didn't they only want to see you?"

Tarik stopped and looked at Barlow, once again making him uncomfortable. "I'm sure the Lightcloak Queen is bringing someone with her."

"And if she doesn't?" asked Barlow, placing his scythe on his back.

"Well, I'm sure she'd want to meet you anyway. I'll start getting stuff ready for our journey." Tarik's face turned into worry.

"Shouldn't you be excited about this?" Barlow followed Tarik as the King made his way into a different door that seemed to lead to his room.

"Going back to Greenhaven? No." Tarik turned away and moved forward.

Barlow followed silently, aware that Tarik was in stress. Barlow didn't mind going back to Greenhaven, perhaps he could find the man that had the raccoon spirit animal. "We should see Olvan."

Tarik stopped again, eyes wide. "Are you insane?"

"We have to see him one day or another. At least he will know that we're back," Barlow said.

"He is going to drop dead if he sees us! We aren't supposed to be alive, he'll think that we're demons!"

"Well... I am if I'm the reaper," Barlow told him.

Tarik rolled his eyes.

"You might be able to see that woman again. The one with the tiger spirit animal, you know? She's Zhongese."

Tarik froze and blinked at him.

Barlow was getting carried away, excited to see people who he hasn't seen in ages. "Tarik, we'll be able to see the Four Heroes again!"

Tarik didn't react. Once again, he stared at nothing. Barlow tilted his head and noticed that perhaps Tarik was afraid. Maybe it was all too much to handle.

"Get. Out."

"What?" Barlow was confused.

"Go!" hissed Tarik. "Wait outside or something, just leave."

Barlow nodded and walked out of Tarik's room, back into his hall where they were before. The two soldiers who escorted him in and the horse had returned.

"We heard everything," said the woman. "But it's okay to assume that Tarik would have been wanting to go back. After all, Greenhaven was his home."

The man nodded. "He isn't the same. Not since after... you know."

"You're saying that your great leader is going through trauma because of his death? How is he going to be fit enough to lead you?" Barlow challenged.

The soldiers looked at each other. "The crown chose him," they said at the same time.

"Chose him? How can a crown possibly choose a person?" Barlow walked around them, going in circles.

"Listen, all of us want to go back to Greenhaven, but we can't," the woman said.

"Why?" asked Barlow.

"We have become Nightcloaks for a reason. We must stay here and figure out why," the man answered.

King Tarik appeared in a dark flash in front of them. He held a small satchel, Lumeo on his shoulder. Barlow forgot that Tarik had an otter spirit animal.

"Are you ready?" Tarik asked him.

"Well I mean, sure."

"Take my arm," Tarik ordered as he held it out.

Barlow hesitated for a moment before grabbing the man's arm.

"Travel safe," called the woman.

Both he and Tarik had warped, teleporting to a land that seemed too familiar for Barlow not to be able to recognise.

This was the land of the Greencloaks.