The wind howling from the Weeping Hollows roared like a long-forgotten lament, and the tree branches twisted towards the sky like hands begging for rain, the trees reeking of a mix of iron and decay. The land was no longer sick, but the dead with memories, sorrow, and the burden of all who had died there, refusing to rest in peace. The group struggled forward through a fog that obscured their path, the silence within broken only by the sound of crows. The once-wide path began to narrow as it curved deeper, passing a chasm at its edge. A thick fog clung to their ankles like chains, forcing them to walk slowly and carefully.

  "This place feels strange, and my skin is crawling," Kaelith murmured, her bow half-drawn with an arrow ready, her eyes constantly scanning every crooked tree beside the path. Namien walked with his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze slightly lifted as he looked at the path ahead. "The Hollow is not cursed, but haunted by the consequences of the people who died here." he said, his voice measured. "What's the difference?" Vael grumbled. "A curse in this region is inflicted intentionally on those who pass through it. The consequences are what must be accepted by those who walk here, as well as its inhabitants," Namien replied softly.

  Sora, walking at the forefront as he always did, felt something was wrong with his steps. It made his skin feel tighter, and his pace began to slow. It was as if his very bones were rejecting a whisper from that place, a whisper that urged him to keep moving forward and approach whatever lay behind the fog. And then, Sora who had been walking slowly, froze. He stood erect, looking at what was now in front of him, motionless, as if the fog itself had planned for him to find out on his own. What he saw before him were four figures blocking their path, silhouettes in grey cloaks and blood-stained armor. Each of the four bore a crooked emblem, a carving on their breastplates: a howling wolf with a black sun inside it.

  Kaelith, stopping beside the frozen Sora, readied her bow. "Mercenaries? No, just a group of bandits seeking treasure and thirsty for bloodshed," she whispered warily to the others. Vael moved to the side, having already drawn his sword. "They are... not from Borreal. But, who—" Before Vael could finish his words, Sora stepped forward, slowly piercing the fog ahead. His fingers, already gripping his sword, began to tremble, and his eyes burned with the fire of revenge. Though he could not speak, the memory screamed, calling him back to finish what was left unfinished from his past.

  Intermezzo: The Story Never Told

  There was smoke billowing into a grey sky and screams seared into his memory, the moment his village was destroyed before his own eyes. And above all, he witnessed the death of the person he cared for most when Eyla's head was severed and impaled on the spear of a Black Maw mercenary. His village burned under a red sun, and a man in steel boots dragged the woman by her hair, her body scraping against the rough, broken ground. A mercenary, having gotten what his group wanted, threw a torch with a booming laugh into the pile of headless corpses in the village hall, setting it ablaze. The villagers' blood acted as fuel, and the smoke carried the sickening smell of human flesh. And the villagers' heads, impaled on spears with blood still running down the shafts, were lifted high by the mercenaries, who showed off their handiwork with jokes and insults. Above it all, their banner fluttered, and the emblem on their armor bore a howling wolf with a sun painted black inside it.

  Back to the Present:

  Sora stopped right in front of the four men, seeing their faces now. They were the same as in his memory, one of them being the man who had impaled the heads, laughing and mocking them. They looked older now, their faces covered in scars, but they still grinned like wolves sniffing out their prey, thirsty for its blood. "Well, well... what have we found today? It's annoying, isn't it? When you meet someone who knows what we did to them in the past," one of them said with a laugh upon seeing and remembering Sora. "Isn't that the mute rat from Mireholt we let run away back then?" said another, spitting on the ground. "I thought we burned him alive with the others. I never expected to see him again to burn him alive with his friends now," replied one of them, slowly licking his dagger. "Shouldn't we have made sure back then if he was really killed by the pack of animals that attacked him when he ran into the forest?" said the man leaning against a tree behind him.

  Frustrated, Sora gripped his sword tighter, but Namien approached him and spoke at his side, his voice growing serious and heavy. "Are all of these your ghosts, kid?" The fourth mercenary began to speak, his voice hoarse and threatening. "You don't deserve to be in this world, and we don't want any trouble with you lot, just the boy. Because he still has a debt to pay us, marked by us... oh, should I mention how the woman's body and her voice, begging for forgiveness as she cared for that mute child, are still seared into my mind, right before we cut off her head?" Hearing that, Kaelith immediately raised her bow and aimed it at one of them. "You'll get nothing but an arrow from me if you keep talking like that to one of us."

  Sora's hand still gripped his sword tightly. There was no more running from his fear, no more silence in the face of what should not be. A faint whisper, audible only to Sora, said,

  'Why are you letting these bastards insult you? Just release all your anger to silence their mouths.'

  Consumed by the whisper from the depths of his heart, Sora moved quickly, charging at the four men. Their ambush was sprung, as a dozen more cloaked figures leaped from the trees, their laughter erupting as their prey was provoked, their brutal weapons drawn and ringing out. "Scatter, quickly!" Vael shouted to Kaelith and Namien as he parried an attack. Kaelith quickly released an arrow, hitting the neck of an attacker who tried to ambush her from the side. Namien just sighed... slowly, tiredly. Then, Namien raised his right hand for the first time, and the ground around him turned into mud mixed with oil. In his left hand, a very small fireball appeared, which he threw to the ground, instantly incinerating five men who were about to attack him, turning them to ash. A shockwave of red fire exploded, fueled by the oil, causing the remaining mercenaries to recoil in fear of Namien's magic.

  "What—" Kaelith turned to him, stunned by his fighting ability. Namien's eyes shone, and an old magic sigil glowed on his wrist, marking him as a more than experienced mage. "I was a war mage once, before greed destroyed me and pride burned my name," he muttered, weary from a fight he hadn't engaged in for a long time. "You... a mage?" Vael's tone was half-disbelief, half-admiration. "I was. Now I just sell potion bottles and some old maps," Namien replied, clenching his fist. "But I never forgot how to use my spells," he added, turning to see what Sora was doing.

  The battle exploded into chaos, a blazing fire of vengeance. Sora faced the four men alone, his sword clashing against theirs. Each strike became fiercer, more desperate, fueled by the rage of a child who watched his world burn, a rage now tempered by the silence that had saved him. One of the mercenaries charged at him savagely, but to Sora, the attack seemed too slow. He stepped aside and slashed his sword across the man's arm, severing it from his body. A spray of blood erupted like red ink on the misty canvas. One of the remaining men, shocked and fearful of Sora, stuttered, "You... you fight like him, that boy. Like... like our former leader. Run! Save yourselves!" One of them began to back away in terror, his legs trembling so badly he fell, scrambled up, and fled.

  Sora paused, his eyes watching them try to escape his sight, what was left of them already broken by the horror and brutality of the mute boy they had once scorned. Sora stabbed his sword into the stomach of the man whose arm he had cut off, leaving the blade there as he lifted him from the ground. The man's last sight was Sora's vengeful gaze, and he surrendered his life. Sora let the body fall indifferently to the blood-soaked ground. Three were left. One of them turned to flee after seeing his friend brutally executed, running in a panic. Suddenly, an arrow from Kaelith, who had been ready and waiting, shot through the back of his head, and he fell to the ground. The last two stood frozen as Sora slowly approached them. One of them screamed something unintelligible and charged madly, his death only seconds away. Sora calmly dodged and slashed his sword across the man's neck, severing his head. The last one, witnessing this, dropped his weapon and fell to his knees, begging for mercy as Sora approached. Tears streamed down his face, and he wet himself in terror. "Please, I have a child and a wife I need to provide for. It was just a job I was forced to do when he ordered me. So, I beg you! Spare my li—" Before the man could finish his plea, Sora stepped forward without hesitation, raised his sword, and slashed it across his neck, sending a torrent of blood onto Sora's lower body.

  After that, all sound from the forest and the bandits ceased, leaving a brutal, final silence. His task finished, Sora let his sword fall to the ground and dropped to his knees, in disbelief of what he had just done. The Black Maw mercenaries and their recruits had met their end. Namien, who had witnessed the entire fight, was speechless. He performed a spell, and the roots of dead trees dragged the bodies into the earth, giving them a proper burial. The silence after the battle was itself a scream of vengeance from someone who couldn't utter a word, a weight too heavy to feel or even shout within his own heart. Sora, still kneeling, began to pant, his eyes fixed on the four corpses and his own blood-covered hands. He tried to cry but couldn't, his hatred having consumed his emotions. A voice in his heart screamed,

  'Finally, you have your revenge for what they did to you. Congratulations on the regret you've earned, hahahaha...'

  Kaelith approached the kneeling Sora, gently placed a hand on his shoulder, and knelt beside him. "It's not your fault. There is nothing wrong with you taking revenge for their heinous deeds in your past," she said comfortingly, but her words didn't affect Sora at all, who couldn't believe he had killed them out of hatred and vengeance. Namien stood some distance away, looking at his hands where the afterglow of his fireball spell had now faded. "This place... Weeping Hollow. It truly is a place that remembers the pain of suffering, hatred, revenge, and a person's fear from their past if they pass through here," he said to himself with a tone of quiet regret. Vael, not knowing what to say, wiped the blood from his sword and spoke. "In that case, we won't linger here before the same thing happens to us, especially Sora." Namien looked at Vael behind him, nodded in agreement, and said to Kaelith and Sora, "Come on, let's go to the Valley of Lanterns right now, before this happens again." Hearing that, Sora tried to stand, though his legs trembled with a fear that slowly began to shake what he believed he shouldn't have done. Sora looked back one last time before leaving, taking a good look at the four bodies, and whispered a single curse to himself in his heart:

  "Never again. I don't want to become a murderer like they wanted."

  The fog began to thin as they moved away from the blood-soaked path. The trees were no longer crooked, and the land was no longer choked with bitter memories. For a while, silence was the only medicine to cover their wounds, the sadness still clinging to their weapons, especially Sora's. They walked for hours under a dim, grey light until they finally emerged from the Weeping Hollows as it loosened its foggy grip and the wind blew naturally. Vael glanced back at Namien with astonishment. "You know... we never asked for your real name, did we? But I have fought beside you now and bled beside you. I'd prefer to know with whom I share a battlefield," the old knight of Borreal murmured. Kaelith, walking a few steps behind Sora, nodded in agreement. "You're more than just a wandering merchant, aren't you?"

  For once, Namien didn't make a joke or change the subject. He walked beside the long-silent Sora before answering softly, as if surrendering something precious: "Namien Solis." Kaelith was so surprised to hear the name that she slowed her pace. "Wait... Solis? You mean—" Namien knew what she meant and explained before she could finish. "The Solis family from the Azure College? Yes, the one once revered as a prodigy. The Second Firebinder, heir to the nine threads of magic. All very flattering, but now it's all useless, a disgrace for me to bury as deep as possible," Namien answered, his voice flat and heavy. Vael raised an eyebrow. "You were at the Azure College, weren't you? I thought that place was destroyed two decades ago?" Namien replied flatly, "It was. And I was the cause of its destruction." Sora, listening to their conversation, turned slightly towards Namien with a bitter, weary smile, as if Namien's burden was far heavier than his own. "I was once called brilliant, arrogant, the type of genius who thought that if the world had rules, then I was the exception," Namien said, raising his hands and seeing a faint, cold red spark flicker between his fingers. "I tried to bind something ancient—not undead, not a demon, but something... older. And in doing so, that past mistake caused the entire College to collapse in flames. Hundreds of the greatest minds, recorded in books, were destroyed, and my name was struck from the archives," Namien said, his voice faint with regret for his past sin.

  "So, you ran away after all that happened?" Kaelith asked, her tone not accusing, just curious. Namien's gaze drifted to the sky as he answered. "No, I journeyed, searching for a place where my name didn't matter and where my failure no longer defined my self-worth," he said, bowing his head for a moment before looking at Sora, who had also stopped to look at him. "He was the only one I told my name to, and I'm not sure why I did something so foolish. Maybe... because he can't repeat the mistakes I made." Sora didn't reply, but there was a warmth of understanding in his eyes for the regret Namien carried. "So, you hide behind the cloak of a merchant now? But you still use the power you said destroyed the Azure College?" Vael asked. "Only when absolutely necessary, and even then, it disturbs me greatly, bringing back all the memories I witnessed to haunt me," Namien answered honestly.

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  Kaelith crossed her arms and resumed walking. "You saved us back there. Whatever you regret from your past... has nothing to do with what you did today. You have earned your place here in this group." Namien let out a heavy breath and chuckled softly. "A Knight of Borreal carrying a dead oath, a cynical archer hiding her feelings, a cool but clumsy silent one, and a disgraced scholar shamed by his past who talks too much? Quite a traveling circus we've created, eh?" Kaelith smirked at that. "It could be worse. You could be a poet, with all the sarcasm and humor you slip into your verses, if you wanted." They all laughed softly, even Vael's rough chuckle, all except Sora, who was looking at the path ahead. The hills were now turning to gold, and in the distance, something flickered faintly in the fading mist...

  It was dozens of lanterns, visible from afar, hanging in the air like glowing bulbs, flying slowly across the twilight horizon. The Valley was now near, yet far before them. But behind them, the Weeping Hollow was still breathing, and within its thickets, something was watching them, waiting patiently for the right moment to pounce.

  The lanterns shimmered in the sky like hanging stars, thousands of them floating over a wide, jagged valley that opened like a wound between two towering cliffs. Each lantern pulsed softly, casting a spectral light over the rocky path that served as the entrance to the valley. Though beautiful, the air around it felt as cold as a suffocating silence. They stood there for a moment, enjoying the view, but a low growl rumbled on the wind, like thunder on all fours, shattering the peace and putting them on high alert. Instantly, they all prepared their weapons for the danger that was coming. Kaelith's ears twitched, Vael turned slowly with his sword already drawn, and Namien's smile vanished, replaced by an unreadable expression. Sora, however, froze, pulled by a thread of memory, something buried in blood and a cold night.

  From behind the misty path and bushes... a massive figure stepped forward. It was a black wolf, its fur pale with silver streaks, covered in muscles and scars. Its fangs were long enough to pierce any iron armor, and its light brown eyes, while almost glowing, radiated savagery and wildness. And clasped tightly in its drooling jaw was a massive, chipped greatsword, ancient and still humming with the residual magic of a forgotten war. The wolf stopped ten paces before them. Saliva dripped onto the ground, and none of them moved, uncertain if the wolf was targeting them or something else. Then it dropped the tip of the greatsword with a clang, let out a roar that shook the area, and charged.

  Vael leaped first, parrying the initial attack with the flat of his blade, but was thrown aside like a rag doll against the cliff face. Kaelith's bow sang twice, her arrows hitting the wolf's side, but it barely flinched. The wolf swerved to target Kaelith, who quickly rolled away just as the wolf's paw shattered the ground where she had stood. Namien began to chant a spell, a circular purple symbol glowing on his hands as a fireball formed and shot towards the wolf, burning its fur and body. The wolf roared in pain, but instead of retreating, it vanished, extinguishing the flames with its sheer speed. In the blink of an eye, it reappeared behind Namien, raking its claws down his back. Namien fell, coughing up blood, his shoulder torn open. Kaelith screamed his name, but Sora was already moving, attacking the wolf with a low slash, his eyes locked on its movements. The wolf turned on Sora, who leaped away with an unnatural, instinctive agility. Steel clashed with fang as Sora dislodged the greatsword from the wolf's jaw. Now, Sora fought like a knight dancing with the wolf, a brutal yet graceful chaos. Attack, dodge, bleed, and parry. The air echoed with steel and growls of endless suffering.

  Then, just as Sora was about to land a blow on a wound on the wolf's body, Namien rose from his severe injury, his face pale but smiling, not from amusement, but from sheer annoyance. He raised one hand and shouted an unspoken spell, "Enough!" From beneath the wolf, tendrils of purple fire erupted, binding its limbs like ropes of flame. The wolf roared in agony, biting through the fire ropes, and charged at Sora again. But Sora did something unexpected, something no one thought possible. He dropped his sword and stepped forward towards the giant black wolf. He then extended his hand as if to stroke a scar on its nose. Kaelith screamed for him to get back, but Sora ignored her. The wolf initially bared its sharp, foul-smelling fangs, its open mouth just inches from Sora. But then it took a slow breath and, realizing Sora's intent, closed its savage mouth. The wolf began to sniff Sora's body and, sensing something different, bowed its head like a pet. The battle of savagery and ferocity had ended with a stroke on the wolf's head from Sora's wounded, ungentle hand. He touched its snout, his gaze conveying something ancient and shared: a sense of empathy.

  Namien fell to his knees again, laughing. "He never ceases to surprise us..." Kaelith could only stare, stunned. "Who is he, really?" Vael, watching with wide eyes, murmured: "He is more than we imagined." The great wolf turned, picked up its greatsword, and disappeared back into the fog, leaving behind only blood and silence. Sora turned, his hand still trembling slightly, and picked up the sword he had dropped. The valley's lanterns pulsed once more, and now, wounded, they entered its domain.

  Namien forced himself to walk, waving off offers of help, but he didn't speak, only clutching his wound. His breaths became short and sharp with every step. Kaelith, walking behind him, noticed the dark red blood still flowing down his back, soaking his cloak. The wound was not only deep but severe. Black veins, like the roots of some foulness, pulsed out from it. "Namien—" Kaelith moved to help him, but it was too late. Namien's legs gave out, his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed. "Sora, help me!" Kaelith cried out in panic. Sora turned and rushed to help Kaelith support Namien before his head hit the rocks. Vael threw down his pack and tore some cloth, but there was nothing they could do to slow the bleeding. The wound hissed as if rejecting their help. "He's poisoned from the wolf's claws. Its claws carry death. We have to act fast before we lose him!" Vael muttered grimly.

  Sora's gaze darted to the path ahead, towards the Valley of Lanterns, which curved down into what looked like an abandoned settlement in a rocky basin. A broken stone bridge crossed a dry river, and lanterns floated in an eerie silence above the rooftops and narrow alleys. However, one light shone a bright yellow, unlike the others. It wasn't magical; there was smoke coming from the chimney of one of the cottages. A home still inhabited, Sora thought. Without wasting time, Sora lifted Namien onto his back and ran towards the cottage. Kaelith and Vael followed quickly behind. The village was not empty, just forgotten by time, but that one cottage still radiated presence. As they approached, the cottage door creaked open, and a human figure stepped out, silhouetted in the firelight from within. A young man in a worn, torn robe with a burnt fire emblem on the shoulder area stood there, a staff leaning near the door.

  When the man saw them approaching in a hurry, he noticed the person being carried on Sora's back, and his eyes widened in recognition of an old acquaintance. "Namien...?" the young man murmured to himself. Sora, reaching the door, looked at the young man, his eyes pleading for help for his wounded friend. The man stepped forward towards the unconscious Namien. His hand hovered hesitantly over the wound. "I thought you died after the fall of Azure College... no one—" he whispered to himself, cut off by Kaelith and Vael who arrived in a panic. "He's dying, can you help him?" The young man looked up at Kaelith, and an unreadable expression crossed his face. "You don't know what he did in the past." Hearing that, Kaelith's emotions flared. "We don't care what he did in his past! You want to say that burning down his school was his sin back then, but that has nothing to do with now, does it? Don't talk about this now, not before he gets treatment before his life is lost," Kaelith snapped, her emotions reaching their limit. A silence fell, and the young man looked down, the pain of betrayal and bitter memories in his eyes. He pressed his hand to Namien's chest and whispered something softly. His fingertips glowed with a gentle blue light, and the air around them seemed to shimmer. The pulsating black lines on Namien's skin the deadly poison twitched, having nearly spread throughout his body. The young man spoke again. "He will live, but... there will be a price to pay. The wound will not disappear and might... change him." the young man said slowly, trying not to show his resentment. "What's your name?" Kaelith asked, her voice now softer, having controlled her emotions.

  The man looked up, his jaw tight. "...Sered." Kaelith just nodded. "Sered, I'm Kaelith. That's Vael. And the silent one is Sora." Sered's gaze rested on Sora, who was still carrying Namien, for a moment longer than the others. An unspoken something passed between them before Sered gestured towards the inside of the cottage. "Bring him in. He needs to rest first, and when he wakes up..." his voice trailed off before continuing firmly. "We all need to talk about Namien."

  That night, Namien lay silently in a bed, his skin pale and his breathing weak but stable after Sered's treatment. Sora did not sleep; he sat by the window, staring out at the lanterns flickering like night stars. Kaelith sat near the fireplace, not saying a word. Vael sat in a chair, contemplating his own inadequacies in protecting the group. Sered emerged from Namien's room and sat across the fire from them, whispering something old a prayer or a plea, perhaps. Outside the cottage, the faint howl of a great wolf echoed from the depths of the Weeping Hollow, and the once-bright stars began to disappear behind thick clouds. Something else was coming, a mystery and tension that would slowly unravel, and the truth of Namien's story would soon emerge.

  The fire in the hearth crackled softly, and the lanterns outside swayed gently in the night wind like breathing stars. Inside the cottage, warmth enveloped them, but the air felt heavy, as if waiting for thunder after lightning. Sered sat hunched in a low-backed chair, his hands clasped around his knees, staring at the others. Sora, Kaelith, and Vael all faced the fireplace, waiting in a weighted silence for Sered to begin. Finally, Sered spoke softly. "Azure College was more than a school. It was a city of thought built on the backbone of this world, where the sky met the earth below. Every spell was recorded, every question explored; even dreams had their own library." His fingers tightened on the arms of his chair. "We came from orphans, wanderers, scholars, or those with too much magic in their blood and no place to go. I was one of them, and so was Namien." He closed his eyes for a moment, recalling a memory, then continued. "Namien was... brilliant and reckless. He was always a visionary, always poking holes in the rules that shaped him, and he wanted to rewrite the very architecture of magic itself." A bitter smile crossed Sered's face. "And one day, he did it."

  The fire crackled louder as he paused. "There was a vault beneath the school, a forbidden area where spells created by mad kings and gods were sealed for a reason. But Namien found a way in, and he used one of the scrolls he found there. The ritual he performed didn't just rewrite magic; it unraveled it entirely." Kaelith leaned forward, her brow furrowed, but Sered paused again, so she asked, "What happened after Namien found and unraveled the scroll?" Sered continued his story. "The Veil began to tear, and the very nature of this world bled out in a single, forbidden act. Half of Azure College sank into a hole that was no longer part of this world. The other half burned with screaming flames or perhaps turned to ash forever." His voice tensed. "I was in the observatory, far from the main area. I saw the sky crack, and with my own eyes, I saw students I knew torn apart by a fiery light that followed no laws of magic. And Namien... he disappeared without a trace." He looked towards the small door leading to where Namien still lay unconscious. "For years, I thought he had died with the others." The room fell silent again.

  Vael finally spoke. "He is not that man anymore." Sered's voice hardened. "That does not erase his sins." And at that moment... the door to Namien's room creaked open, and Namien himself stood there, leaning against the wall, his eyes sunken but having heard everything. He slowly walked towards them and said, "I heard all of it." His voice was soft and faint. Everyone was shocked to see him conscious, but Sered did not move, trying to contain his personal emotions towards Namien. Namien's hands hung limply at his sides; his usual cunning smirk was gone. There was no cleverness left, only the shame he held and a regret he could not simply erase, one that haunted him every night. "You're right, Sered. Everything you said is true. I knew it then, and I still remember it now. I destroyed what had been built, and I took forbidden knowledge and turned it into a destructive fire. I thought I was saving us from limitations, but all I did was rewrite the deaths for hundreds of innocent people inside," he said, his tone full of regret and guilt. Namien bowed his head and continued, "I do not want forgiveness, and I feel I do not deserve to receive it. But I want you to know... I live with it every night, and every time I cast a spell, I feel the ghosts of my past haunting me to this day."

  Sered still did not look at him, the fireplace burning between them like a wound that never dried. Kaelith touched Sora's arm as the tension in the room was about to peak. Vael said nothing, bowing his head as he acknowledged the truth in Sered's words and Namien's full confession. And Sora... acted before things could descend into chaos, standing up and stepping between them to mediate. Sora looked at Sered, then at Namien, and he wrote something on a piece of paper he took from his pocket, showing it to each of them. Both men flinched as they read Sora's writing. Not because it was a defense, but because of the weight of the feelings they both carried.

  Sora's note to Sered read, "You lost your home, a dream, and the people you loved. You have the right to grieve and to hate his past actions. But that man... chose to walk through the ashes rather than hide beneath them, bearing his mistakes alone as long as he lives." Then Sora gestured for Namien to read his note. "And you, you can bear your sin, but do not expect others to lift it for you. Keep walking and earn their silence, if not the forgiveness of those who haunt you now." It was as if Sora was speaking, but not with his mouth, only through a piece of paper. Sora then looked seriously at Namien, whose eyes were welling with tears, but he said no more, understanding his meaning.

  Sered stared at Sora for a long time as the fire shrank. Then, Sered whispered to himself, just loud enough for Sora to hear one name that made him turn his head, "You... you sound like Eyla." Sora froze for a moment, hearing Eyla's name spoken again by someone who knew her. Sered continued, "She told me about you once, if I remember correctly. A boy with no name and too much sadness in his eyes to explain." Sora slowly sat back down, and Namien also sat, but further away, though still within the same firelight. No one spoke for a while after that, but no one left either. And somewhere outside the cottage, the lanterns above the Valley glittered softly, as if listening in. Their journey was certainly not over, but tonight they were saved not just from the fangs of a great wolf... but also from the honesty and confession of past mistakes, which sometimes has its own way of saving someone.