It had been a few hours since the wreckage. The sea was calm; much too calm for his liking. Sol looked across from the boat that sailed calmly along the cerulean sea. It was quiet, too. Nobody had spoken a word about what they had survived. Nobody dared to.

The air had become colder as they neared the surface of an undivulged land. He gazed at the trees that covered it, standing tall and green; unlike back at home, where they were burnt to the crisp with nothing left to find solitude in.The tall trees oddly seemed to possess a sweet serenity for all that passed through. Despite it being just a few hours ago since he was in the scorching swarm, a cold blanket of frost now lurked in the air.

"Come on, we should get off now." The young woman reached forward to help Sol carry Ying from the wooden boat. He had been too distracted by his thoughts to realize the boat had hit the curve of a dock.

"Where are we going?" he asked, as the survivors scrambled through the isolated and derelict forest. It was safe from harm, or even stark human demoralization, but Sol still had doubts about whether they'd truly be safe again.

Sol had seen many forests, though none quite like this. Sheets of thick, white snow preserved the gritty grounds and coated the trees; it was the reason he felt cold. He shivered.

"I am uncertain...," she mumbled with sincerity as she looked around, clinging onto Ying's shoulder. Throughout the trip here, Ying had, every so often, slipped in and out of consciousness."We need to find her some help."

Sol simply nodded, sniffing as the harsh clouds of frosted air came out of their blue-tinged mouths. Now that they had made it far enough away from the disaster, he could think. Ying was thankfully still breathing, though he wondered whether anybody could help her condition.

"So what's your name?" Sol asked, glancing in her direction.

"My name is Morrigan." A smile shone on her plump but cracked lips. Sol hadn't noticed before: tints of ginger in her hair that curled gently at the edges, cut just above her shoulders. Mossy green eyes glistened in the moonlight, with perhaps a defiant glint behind them as she stared at him, like she waited for him to introduce himself as well.

A rosy flush bloomed across her cheeks.He couldn't tell if it was the kiss of winter solstice, or because of shyness. Perhaps both.

"Oh... Um, I'm Sol." He smiled back, his cheeks warming up. Soon, they both came to a halt.

"We should put her down here, and light a fire," Morrigan suggested.

"Good idea..." Sol muttered and peeled off his jerkin, instantly bundling it up into a ball to cushion Ying's head. "Do you know how?"

"You don't know how to light a fire?" Morrigan chuckled in what seemed to be slight disbelief, which made Sol's cheeks go red. He was meaning to learn, but Qahir didn't get the chance to teach him.

His smile vanished.

"Here." She pointed a finger to the snow clustered near the trees. "Find whatever you can, rocks, branches and all."

After they had collected the required things from the quiet woods, Sol watched as Morrigan sifted through them and picked up some, promptly placing them in his hand. "This is flint. I'll teach you how to create a fire."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Sol shuddered. "I think we'd freeze before I could create one."

Morrigan laughed. "Just hold the stones together against the tinder. and continuously hit them together." With a quick movement of her hand, she struck the stones against each other neatly. "Like this." She handed Sol back the makeshift tools.

"This is crazy." Sol smiled and scooted closer to the ground, beginning to strike the flint together repeatedly. Small sparks rose from the tinder, creating a trail of smoke.

"Now, you see. It has created an ember; you just have to blow on it."

Sol nodded and leaned closer, breathing air onto the tinder, watching as it created a small, burning flame. It cackled, beginning to consume the bark below it, igniting the darkness of the woods with its warmth.

"You're a natural." Morrigan patted him on the back, and they both stared at the flames. They shared a couple of moments in silence together as they huddled to warm up. The small flame reminded Sol of Atal, but he pushed himself to look past it just this once.

"Thank you for saving me."

Their eyes locked. "We saved one another, which means, we're survivors."

Short and sharp noises cracking from the fire interrupted the silence soon after.

"Did your family make it out?" Sol's voice became faint when he asked; vivid flashbacks of his mother came to life once again.

"No." Her eyes turned to watch Ying. "I saw their bodies. They're gone. What about you? Your family?" she asked.

"They're gone. too."

Sol's thoughts traveled back to his mother, and her still body on the cold ground. His brother; the last remaining memory of Qahir disappearing into the flames with the beast. The crackling of the firelight only made the thoughts so much worse.

"We should make a burial for them tomorrow. It will make you feel better."

"No. Not here, it needs to be somewhere special," Sol muttered blankly, turning to Ying. He hated to think about how she would feel to know that Qahir, her closest friend, was gone. Sol felt that he had failed her, failed to protect his brother as his brother would've done him.

"Then we should get some rest, it's been a long day," Morrigan suggested and turned to lay on her side. "We will search for a village to find refuge at first light."

Sol shuddered and curled up slowly on the cold ground. The luminous moon gleamed above them, but it no longer gave the same feelings that it first did during his hunt. Even though the moon shone brightly throughout all lands of Nelua, he felt himself only surrounded by the darkest of nights.

He was alone.

* * *

The next day had approached, and it felt like the same as the day prior, only slower. Since they had lost track of the rest of the survivors, a few moments of deliberation only felt like an eternity to Sol.

"We should go this way." Morrigan pointed to the flowing stream of water that circled along the middle of the land, separating the tall mountains and treetops. "Where there is water, there will be people."

Sol nodded and held Ying close by. He wondered what had happened to her in the fire to be keeping her in such a state. She'd wake in bouts of pain every few hours, which slowed down their tracks, but he needed to get her some help, no matter how much rest she was taking.

Morrigan's gaze roved over the boat surreptitiously. "We can take this boat, I'm sure it will lead us somewhere."

"Good idea," Sol stated, turning around. A small wooden boat stood moored to a tree, bobbing slightly over the waves that were rippling beneath it.

Sol couldn't think of any other reason this boat could've been here than someone having left it behind. Meaning that Morrigan's superstitions about a village being nearby were more than possible. After making their way toward it, Sol placed Ying down in the back.

"Help me steer." Morrigan handed one of the wooden oars to Sol and detached the watercraft from the tree. Perching himself on the seat, Sol began to steer, the movement of his fingers and the direction of his sight his only focus.

The boat surged forward with a jerk, leaping away from the safety of the shore. Rivers flowed despite the cold chill of winter. The thought of that was ridiculous, but Sol paid no heed to it. The boat glided through the calm river bend, the trees on the horizon drawing closer like a wave.

"Do you think there is anybody out here?" Sol asked. He looked around fleetingly, a chilly breeze sliding up his spine. He remembered asking the same question to Qahir.

Morrigan's lips curved up in a hint of a smile before she said, "I know so." She continued sailing with her oar, pushing the boat through the burbling waters.

The sky was slate gray and heavy, which bore the promise of rain, but in the near distance, Sol glimpsed smoke lifting from behind a wooden walling.

There must be a village behind it.

He scanned the wild, rocky terrain nearby, peppered with tufts of grass peeking out from the snowfall. No discernible path appeared to be etched nearby, but they'd have to stop the boat anyway.

"Over there!" He pointed in the direction of a hidden village, "Let's pull over."

As they got off from the boat and walked side by side to the walls enshrouded by trees, Sol gained a new sense of hope and freedom. Morrigan and Sol reached a large open gate. When they entered the open territory, it almost felt like home again. The songs of birds that they had never heard before, the humming buzz of the insects, and a light source of the sun that had started to reach through the pillars of the trees, catching Sol off guard. He squinted and covered his face from the glaring beam of light.

When his eyes adjusted to the light, a bustling village came into view. There were small shelters with thatched roofing that surrounded it,, protected from the outside dangers with a large wooden pillar wall. Villagers surrounded, busy at work, cutting wood or pulling large poles up from the ground, feeding chickens and more. There was life out here.

Sol stopped to admire it, but a young man quickly interrupted his thoughts. "Oh, survivors! Is she alive? We must take her to the healer right away! Follow me," he called and quickly weaved through the crowd.

"Wait!" Before Sol could ask any questions, he decided to follow the young man, for Ying. These people could help her heal. They had healers.

Sol clung to Ying like his life now depended on it. The last remaining aspect of his brother's life was in his arms, and he refused to let her die. Even though he was unsure whether to trust this new village, healers were rare to come by. Most healers had gone into hiding since magic became superstitious, dangerous, or both.

He didn't trust magic, but if there was a mere chance that it would help Ying heal, then he'd have to.

The man reached a hut, sliding the draped cloth out of the way, and stepping aside. He encouraged Sol to walk in. Sol only clung to Ying tighter as he walked inside; hay scrunched beneath his feet. It was dimly lit, but he could make out a make-shift bed made of cloth.

"Put her there!" The young man pointed over. "I'll get Ama."

Sol walked over to the cot and gently placed Ying down. A small groan released from her lips, and her eyes fluttered open as she reached for him. "Shh..." He hushed, and swiftly stroked a strand of hair behind her ear with his ash-covered hand. He realized how dirty he felt. He hadn't thought to bathe since that day. "We're getting you some help."

He pulled a wooden chair, draped in what appeared to be animal fur and sat beside her, reaching for her hand. He hated to see her this way. Ying's once sleek-black hair was knotted with dirt and blood, her face smeared in it under the ash. The longer he watched her, he began to notice more injuries that he didn't the night before. He slowly peeled back parts of her ripped pants, and revealed a burn that marred her otherwise soft skin, having turned its pale white into ashen black on her calf, damaged flesh poking through.

"Oh, thank the Gods! It's about time you found us, with an injury like that. She's lucky to have made it all this way here." An old woman wobbled over with a wooden bucket.

"I guess you're the healer, Ama?"

"Shush, boy. You mustn't speak such things out in the open."

"But why?"

"Enemies may be lurking nearby, Your kind should know better than to mention that which is debarred in these lands." She placed the bucket onto the ground. "Now, leave us be."

"But what about-"

"She's in good hands. Give us some time alone. Go find Arhaan; he shall get you something to eat."

Sol said no more and exited the hut. He'd have to confide in these people whether he liked it or not, at least until Ying got better. Then they could leave and head back home, to whatever was left of it.

He imagined there to be nothing left. Piles of rubbish, resembling rotting carcasses, to which dozens of flies are drawn like a beacon of light. Still air, and rats amongst the rubble, scrounging, searching for anything left behind too. But Sol hoped for a better future, that maybe it could be rebuilt. But it would not be able to fill the gaping hole in his heart for his mother. Nothing would.

Go find Arhaan.

Sol exited the hut, drawing back the shade to be welcomed again with the sight of the village. It had become distant, and quiet. He made his way across the sodden ground layered with snow. The fresh, white speckles fell from the gray skies, melting onto his face as he headed towards the edges of the village. Sol would not chase after strangers. Whoever Arhaan was, he would have to come and find him.

Sol found himself in front of the vast blue waves that lapped at the shoreline.. He walked closer to the shore and bent to cup his hands near the ocean. He rose the cold water to his face and began to rub away the dirt and blood that painted his skin.

It gnawed at him and dug deep into his bones, crawling through his veins like worms. The bad omen haunted him, like a burning sensation, a rash.

"Solan?" a familiar voice interrupted his involuntary thoughts. He looked over his shoulder.

It was like buttermilk and moonlight had woven together; strands of brunette locks nestled in the pale white scarf she wore that billowed in the gentle sea breeze.

"Malak?" a smile formed at his lips. It felt wrong to smile right now, but he couldn't help it.

"You're alive! You made it,she called and joined him near the ocean.

Their eyes met.

Sol couldn't help but stare into them. Enthralling kaleidoscopes of colour, like celery-green leaves. They reminded him of home.

"I guess I am...,"he said and turned to the waters. The sea felt dark and turbulent, as though it hid every secret, every bad thing in the world. He hated it like he hated that he wasn't home, and safe. He shuddered.

"I presumed you may have gotten devoured up by a wild bear," she teased.

Sol scoffed. "No, I didn't...And besides, who told you there were bears roaming in Atal?"
She beamed, playfully nudging his side with her elbow. "I suppose my father had some feral bedtime stories."

Sol never broke eye contact. "It's good to see you again. After what happened, I thought—"

"It's good to see you, too." Malak cut in. "Did your family make it out?"

"No." The momentary silence that came afterwards caved in to separate everything.

"I'm sorry for what happened...I really am," she whispered.

"It's okay." Sol forced a smile, slowly wrapping an arm around her to pull her close. "There's nothing we could've done."

He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. To turn back and behead the beast that did this. But that wouldn't bring back his mother or Qahir. Nothing would.

"I brought you something."

"You did?"

"Yes, I was supposed to give it to you when you came back from the hunt." She paused, and with a dainty hand raised his wrist. She tied a bracelet to it. It was elegantly carved, wooden, and polished beads stained with tones of browns and blues.

Sol admired it and edged his hand closer to hers. As he did, she unfurled her fingers and laced his fingers through hers, feeling the heat of her palm pressed against his. "It's beautiful, Malak."

"I have been making it ever since you told me you'd be going on that hunt. It was made from a matching set of those elder tree pods. So if you hold it in the air, it will always tilt in the direction of your deepest desires." Their eyes met once more. "Promise me you'll take care of it?"

"Like my life depends on it," he promised.

Malak returned a smile and stood, grabbing his hand and pulling him to his feet. "We should get back. Arhaan would be wondering where you are."

"Malak, wait..." Sol let go of her hand and gazed back towards the lit village.

"What is it?"

"Promise me," he said, swallowing. "Promise me that you think these people are trustworthy."

Malak too glanced back towards the village. "They are good people. We're in good hands, for now."

Sol nodded slowly and stared for a moment more. A new beginning could be just over the corner, but part of him still wasn't ready to take it. If even his closest friend wasn't sure whether to confide in these people and the hospitality, then he wasn't sure where it would lead. But a new beginning was all he could hope for.

After all, hope was all that he had left.

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