The night passed on without any other words from the two remaining attendees. Isel rested on the couch he sat on while Charine laid on the bed that was still intact. A dull blue glow scattered through the room as morning arrived. She was no longer present, and a majority of the mess in the room was tidied despite Siphos' earlier proclamation that he would take care of it himself. He pulled himself up from the couch, his curiosity about Mirial still lingering.

  The earlier encounter left much to be desired in terms of answers, but Charine's previous warnings were hard to ignore. If she had not sounded so distressed, he may feel inclined to pursue the mysterious woman. That and where she resides is what had put a leash on his interest. Hourlal was not a place that he had planned to see anytime soon, and neither was it in the direction of his destination either. He had no other choice but to keep the experience in the back of his mind. Perhaps Siphos would be able to share something, as Charine never specified what she had been told.

  Getting tired of sitting in the empty room, Isel left to go to the lobby. To his surprise the mud that had been tracked down the hallway had all been cleaned. At the end of the hallway Charine was at the front desk speaking with a desk worker. The conversation became more audible as he approached.

  "Really? The rest of the day?"

  "Yes, ma'am. They were quite inexpensive; you won't have to owe us much reparation."

  "I see. In any case, I still apologize for all of this. Sincerely."

  "We won't hold anything against you, feel free to visit another time."

  Isel arrived at the main lobby by the time that the conversation had been wrapped up. Charine turned to face him and immediately began to clear up the situation.

  "We have to pay for the damages to the bed, and that will cost all of the money that we were going to use to stay here for a few more days."

  "Just the bed?"

  "Yeah, didn't you see? Siphos already cleaned all the mud that was here last night."

  "Oh, that was him?"

  Charine nodded, she looked around the lobby making sure there were no blemishes on the floors.

  "Yeah."

  Charine had a single loose layer of white cloth under the upper-cross of her clothing — which he assumed to be light dressing meant for a relaxed travel. Many parts of the black bottom layer were still visible; he made a mental note to dress similarly when they were ready to leave.

  "So we won't be able to stay another night?"

  "No, but we'll be leaving earlier anyways. There's no reason to wait until night to start the walk to Loite, wildlife is easier to spot or kill in daylight."

  "Hm. Where is Siphos anyways?"

  "I was just asking the worker, they said he left a few hours ago."

  Isel was worried. How would they know where to meet him? If they could no longer stay the night they would have no choice but to start travelling, or if Siphos had decided to travel they would have no way of telling where he was. Among the mess that was cleaned earlier Siphos' many plates of armor had been missing, with the sack that Charine gave him remaining folded on the broken bed. Charine continued while this thought flashed quickly through his head.

  "We wait here until noon. If we don't see him we leave either way."

  Isel was disoriented by her bluntness.

  "What? Just leave without him? We cant–"

  "We're not obligated to travel with him, I hope you remember. Timing is important, and leaving this place at a good time is far more important than wasting time without shelter waiting for a stranger."

  Isel wanted to argue, but logically she was right. It would be to their best benefit to leave as soon as possible since they no longer had a place to stay for the night. Still, he could recognize Charine's subtle compassion—if she had truly wanted to be the most efficient with travel they would have left as soon as Isel awoke. He nodded in agreement with Charine before looking around the lobby.

  "Then I'll be back at noon."

  Charine sighed and looked back at the main desk.

  "Fine."

  Rain fell softly as Isel walked outside. This was the first time he had seen the rain since being born, yet it was still so familiar. The fragrance of the wood furniture inside the lobby and petrichor mixed in his mind. The scent was relaxing, but he could not relax himself. A feeling creeped along his back, he was anxious. Being left in the dark made him feel trapped, like a part of a mechanism he had no control over. Charine, Siphos, Mirial. He had to reconcile.

  The cloths he wore were becoming wet. Droplets trickled off the black fibers underneath. He walked the streets of the city for a few minutes until he found a place to sit. It wasn't a bench— those were wet from the rain. He found an area in a small alley covered by the back of one of the stone buildings; the rain which poured at an angle couldn't touch here. He sat against the grey stone wall, the rough texture scratching at his back. The rainfall had picked up since he left the inn. Initially he had gone to search for Siphos, and now he was waiting out rain in an alley. A rational person would have gone back to the inn after the sprinkle began, but there was nothing back there for him. He needed to search for something.

  Giving up, he rested his head back on the wall, letting the sound of the rain hitting the floor permeate into his thoughts. Closing his eyes, he took deep breaths. He was going to take a break, the last one he was going to be able to take for a while. Just for this moment, just until the rain stops. He knew how wishful his thinking was, but he wanted to embrace it. The sky was a solid gray, the rain falling on the settlement continuously.

  As his thought finished, he was covered by a shadow. It was hardly visible due to the hue of the sky, but it was there. Isel didn't look at what it was initially, but he could assume it was a person by the shape. Did Charine find him taking a lazy retreat? That wouldn't be a bad thing. He looked back at the person, expecting charine cold expression or Siphos' moody grimace. Standing in the rain however, was a beautiful face. His heart skipped a beat, his rationality threatened to wander away from him.

  "Good day."

  Mirial looked down at him. She still wore her signature cloak, her hair was wet and stuck to her face in areas, but she still had the likeness of a hand crafted statue. The tall woman moved to sit beside him, walking one pace away from where he sat and settling with her legs crossed. The cloak slit open as she sat revealing her rugged pants, extremely similar to Isel's — which he still needed to have replaced. Bandages and bruises could be seen where her skin showed through the holes.

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  "It's raining."

  Her voice carried that same indifference as before. Isel wanted to be tense, he wanted to be standoffish and try to get the most information he could out of her, but hadn't he wished so dearly for a break? So he spoke.

  "Did you need something from me?"

  "I don't need anything from you yet."

  What would he have in the future that was worth her coming for? Suddenly, she spoke with more conviction than normal.

  "Do you like art?"

  "Art?"

  "Art."

  "I don't mind it, but there's no time for art here."

  Mirial's expression didn't change. If Charine were here she would've given a small pout, ready to refute and give him a reason for why he was wrong.

  "I see."

  Her hands left the cloak, and she started folding a piece of paper. She creased and turned it over until it could fit into her palm. Then she grabbed an envelope from under her cloak as she fit the paper inside, and tucked the lid of the envelope under the body and smoothed it over as she spoke.

  "You have questions, I understand that."

  "That's not impressive. Everyone has questions."

  "Yes, but they nag at you don't they? They tug and pull at your head, pleading for you to understand more."

  What was going on here? Isel looked down. Was she trying to convince him to ask her a question? Would she not say unless he asked her? Isel remembered Charine's warning, but what could the woman beside him possibly know that would make him react the way Siphos and Charine could? That question only tempted him more and more. The path to understanding everything was just at the tip of his tongue. He only needed to open his mouth, move his lips, and ask a simple question; however, he was interrupted.

  "Have you ever wondered why you feel that way?"

  "..."

  "Then I'll continue. It's not difficult to understand. Your life is a string, you are the spool. As you proceed, the string falls off that spool and is laid into a pattern, that pattern is what you have led, what you have witnessed, experienced, known, and discovered. But your life is just one thread, and you are just one spool. But-"

  "Stop, I know what your meaning is."

  "Hm?"

  Mirial turned to face him just slightly, as if surprised by his intervention. For Isel, what she was saying was wholly obvious to him; he had known this ever since he had been born. It's intuitive, easy to understand. The world is a web in which he is a single thread. Of course he couldn't have full control over it. He didn't understand why she would tell him something so apparent. This could not have been what Charine had warned him of. Was she teasing him? But even though he was aware of this behavior, he was still ever enticed. He wanted to know something real, profound, important.

  "What are we doing here?"

  The crashing of the rain swallowed the silence that followed his question, the pouring had become stronger. Isel had simply failed to notice after the woman sat. It was pattering just a moment before. Mirial's face returned to facing the stone wall on the other side of the alley, her lips refusing to tilt in any direction to indicate emotion. She stopped fidgeting with the envelope in her hand. Then she spoke slowly, her voice stark and confident.

  "Aeshval, this land. It is a land of choice, in the simplest terms."

  Isel furrowed his brow. He hadn't asked about Aeshval, and was confused by her response.

  "What?"

  "Not the answer you were looking for? Of course."

  She handed the envelope to Isel before continuing.

  "Think before you speak, I am not so unjust as to answer such a question as yours."

  He took the envelope that carried the folded piece of paper. Mirial stood and towered above him once more. His impression of the woman changed from earlier. He simply could not see what was so fearful about her. She held her hand out to him once more.

  "I do hope you visit, and perhaps you will find the time for art."

  Isel shook her hand with some hesitation before she walked off back into the rain. He still held the envelope in his hand and observed it. It was plain and white, there was nothing special about it. He unfolded it slowly before reading the contents, the rain still pouring hard.

  A poem for the sake of poetry

  Grand city of lights and darks;

  Akin to heavens and hells

  Sins pool, the Apple swells

  "One bite, to my grave!"

  And the world forgave.

  Just 'fore that sight

  Man finds new light

  A question is posed

  So will you withhold?

  With ties so true

  With bases askew.

  The Apple's ripple

  The Forest's wimple

  The mind that vies

  The hide belies.

  Truth, the sorrow

  Bliss, they follow

  And Life, they shun

  Form, the false Sun.

  -Mirial Hourlal.

  A poem, clearly. Though he couldn't take anything from this. All the words seemed like ramblings to him, they were completely incoherent. Sins, the sun, apples? The only thing that was even partially sensible was the mention of a forest — but what was a wimple? He was baffled, so much so that he stared at the paper reading it over and over, and only becoming more upset as he failed to interpret anything significant.

  After more minutes of parsing, all he had were half-theories of what it meant. He still wasn't sure if it had been literal or metaphor, or if the whole work meant anything at all for that matter. Considering the tall beauty he figured there must be some reason in it, though he wasn't sure how he would decipher something so esoteric.

  With that thought he folded the paper along the folds that Mirial had made earlier. The answer wouldn't be any clearer if he had sat and pondered. Perhaps something would come to light and remind him of this poem, or so he hopefully wished. The rain was letting up, returning to a sprinkle as the sky slowly returned to its natural baby blue. First, he had to find Siphos. First, they had to leave Eutil.