Book of Venoms - 21. Barren Lands

“Star-seeking Python: Known as one of the most beautiful species of snakes, the Star-seeking Python stands out with its dark purple scales and bright yellow eyes. It is average in size, reaching the length of six feet. This serpent is a nocturnal creature that spends its days sleeping in its underground lair. It is only at night that it comes out to hunt for food, the color of its scales helping it stay nearly invisible.

Their venom is very potent and can quickly kill even large animals and humans, causing the entire body to go numb before the victim dies of heart failure.

The Star-seeking Pythons owe their name to an unusual habit that scientists observed decades ago: they seem to orient themselves based on the stars, and their mating season always begins when the constellation Ophiuchus - also known as the Serpent Bearer - is at its highest position in the sky.”

--

Dymia sat stunned as her breath caught in her throat. Taken aback, the wasp girl seemed to have forgotten herself for a moment and just stared at the old sorcerer who had finally come to his senses. Despite her mixed feelings for Macarius, she couldn’t fight the smile that creeped upon her face when she realized he would survive after all.

“You- you’re alright,” she mumbled and then finished applying the healing balm to the man’s wound.

“I’m not so sure about that,” Macarius barely managed to utter before coughing again. It seemed that each word was causing pain to shoot through his body. “But at least I’m alive.”

“That’s good to know,” the girl nodded. She finished with the treatment and put the bowl with the healing mixture away, after which she covered up the sorcerer’s wound.

“Were you concerned?”

“Can you blame me? Parthus wasn’t, though. He said you were a ‘tenacious old bastard.’ Seems like he was right,” Dymia replied, shooting the man a smirk but he missed it, closing his eyes in pain.

“Did he now? Where is that glorified shaman anyway?” Macarius asked.

“In the other room with a patient. I’ll go tell him the news,” the girl responded and got up to leave, but as she did she saw the healer entering the room.

“I thought I heard voices,” Parthus said. As he walked inside, the girl moved away, allowing him to approach Macarius and examine his wound.

“Can’t... help you with that,” Macarius whispered. “Magic can’t cure insanity.”

“Well, you’re a prime example of that,” Parthus quipped back, causing Dymia to snicker. “Good to see you’re still with us. The wound should heal in time - you’re lucky you came when you did. The salve I’ve prepared should patch you up properly, but we’ll need to continue the treatment for a little longer.”

“How much longer?”

“Why, have you got somewhere you need to be?” the healer asked and Macarius looked away, pain written all over his face. However, this time it wasn’t physical pain - it was the feeling of knowing that when he returns home, it will most likely be empty.

“Look, I’m terribly sorry about what happened,” Parthus continued, placing a hand on the sorcerer’s arm and squeezing it gently.

Macarius turned his head toward Dymia and shot her a warning look, like a parent does when catching a child doing something they shouldn’t be.

“Wha- what did you tell him?”

“Nothing!” Parthus lied, irritated at the man. The last thing he wanted was for the sorcerer to take his frustrations out on the poor girl. “Can I not feel bad about somebody stabbing you - whoever it was? Were they trying to rob you or kill you?”

Closing his eyes again, Macarius took a few deep breaths to calm down and give himself time to come up with an answer. Finally, he opened them again.

“I’m sorry. I appreciate your concern, Parthus, and all of your help. Whe- where is my staff?”

“You won’t be needing it yet,” the old healer replied as he stood up from the bed. “I don’t want you disappearing on me yet, not until I know you’ll be alright.”

“You have no right to…” the sorcerer tried to reply, but a coughing fit forced him to stop. It only served to make him even angrier - he was still too weak to use such advanced magic as teleporting. He hated feeling so useless and helpless. Still, there were far worse places to be stuck at than the mouthy healer’s house.

“Calm down, you’re only making things worse for yourself. For once in your life, don’t be so stubborn and take someone’s advice! I’ll return it to you when I see it fit.”

“Very well,” Macarius replied, giving up. “When?”

“At least stay tonight. We’ll see how you’re doing tomorrow when you wake up,” Parthus said and then turned to Dymia. “Don’t forget, every two hours.”

The girl simply nodded and watched the healer leave. Once he was out of earshot, she moved back to sit beside Macarius.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You’d do it anyway,” the sorcerer replied. Even though his eyes were closed, Dymia was sure he rolled them.

“How did you survive?“ the girl whispered and looked at him with fear and curiosity, as if she had asked him for something forbidden, a dangerous secret that was not to be revealed.

The man let out a sigh, still keeping his eyes firmly closed.

“Remember… when I told you how I saved Xaviel? The spell I cast to freeze his body in time.”

Dymia nodded, forgetting he couldn’t see her. “Yes, I do. The Stasis spell?”

“Yes. This was similar, but I cast it on myself...”

The feeling of how utterly destroyed he felt at that moment came flooding back. He had even thought about giving up once and for all. If his own son wanted him dead, maybe he didn’t deserve to live at all? But then, in his final moments, as he started losing his grip, his survival instincts kicked in. With his last ounce of power, he cast the spell that would keep him alive.

“...for better or worse.”

“What do you mean? Of course it’s for the better!” Dymia replied, somewhat angrily. “What were you supposed to do - not save yourself?”

The sorcerer did not reply, as he had no answer. He couldn’t tell if what he did was right or wrong. Maybe it would’ve been better for everyone if he had died that day.

Finally, he yawned and turned his head to the side.

“I wish to sleep now.”

A moment later, Dymia stood up. “Of course. I’ll return later for the therapy,” she said and left the room, quietly closing the door behind her.

~~

In the aftermath of the battle between Kotho and Xaviel, a sad image of the decimated Mataki tribe was all that remained. More than a dozen warriors lay dead on the desert sand tainted with blood, either eviscerated by the gargoyles or killed by Jarin and his friends.

Even though they never imagined they would be fighting on the same side as Xaviel, the four boys quickly realized their only chance for freedom was to fight the Mataki. While Sawyer had managed to incapacitate several tribesmen with his magic, Cyr realized he was in over his head. He had never been one to fight, let alone use weapons, so he quickly fled the scene of battle, finding a shelter behind a large rock. Knowing that he would’ve been more of a detriment than an asset to his friends, he hid away and waited patiently so they wouldn’t have to babysit him and worry about him getting injured. The two shifters, however, had great use of their animal forms - after the first two Mataki men fell victim to the boys’ venom, no one else dared approach them.

Now, the remaining tribe members either lay injured or tended to their fellow brothers and sisters, bandaging their wounds and trying to ease their pain. Cries of sorrow and agony filled the air as men and women wept over their killed friends and family members.

It was a scene that caused Castor’s heart to ache, even though he knew that only hours before, the same people had kept him and his friends captive; the Mataki had been on the verge of executing them, if only the chieftain had issued the order. Still, the boy couldn’t help but feel sorry for them. If it were up to him, there would be no fighting and no killing at all.

Further away from the battlefield, near where Sawyer and Cyr stood, a lonely figure was kneeling on the ground, tangled up in vines from neck to toe - Vaunga. As soon as he had noticed she was trying to flee, Sawyer ran after the old shaman and tripped her, causing her to fall flat on her face. Before she even managed to pick herself up, the sorcerer already had his wand pointed at her, entangling the woman in magical vines. Now, she had no choice but to wait silently, awaiting her punishment as the sorcerer stood by, watching over her.

“This is terrible,” Castor lamented as he approached his brother and boyfriend, seeking comfort in their presence. Despite everything that happened, Castor was thankful his relationship with Sawyer, and especially with Cyr, had improved. “I hope it’s all over now.”

“Me too,” the blond sorcerer replied, squeezing his boyfriend’s hand. “Are you alright?”

“I don’t know,” Castor said dejectedly, trying not to look back to where the Mataki were. “I feel bad for them… for everyone.”

“I say it serves them right. They had no mercy toward us,” Cyr commented, standing nearby. “They brought this upon themselves.”

“They’re still people,” Castor looked at his brother who observed the scene before him with a frown on his face.

“Let’s not argue,” Sawyer stood between them. “What’s important is that we’re alright.”

“I agree,” Cyr nodded, putting an arm around his twin’s shoulders. “I’m sorry. It’s just that… those people, they mean nothing to me. Especially since they held us prisoners. I thought they would murder us all, so forgive me for not feeling sorry for them. I’m just glad we’re all fine. Jarin too.”

“Where is he?”

“Still over there, with Ercil,” Sawyer said, pointing to where the two brothers sat together on the ground, next to the place where they had buried their mother. “Should we go over there?” he asked, and the other two nodded.

Together, the three of them slowly went over, silent the whole way. Each of them thought about what to say, how to comfort someone whose parents had just died. They had no experience in that, but they considered Jarin their friend and couldn’t leave him alone.

The scorpion shifter and his older brother huddled close together, Jarin leaning on Ercil’s shoulder. Close by, Magana sat quietly and watched them. Other than a sprained ankle, the girl was fine, but her heart broke at seeing her lover in so much sorrow. None of them spoke when the three boys came over and sat down beside them. It was Cyr who finally broke the silence. He was the one who knew Jarin the longest, so he felt it was his obligation to break the ice.

“Jarin, I… I’m sorry about your mother. If there’s anything we can do…” Cyr spoke hesitantly, unsure of what to say. “Ercil, I know we barely know each other, but I’m so sorry for your loss too.”

“Thank you,” the older Mataki brother whispered. “That means a lot to both of us.”

Jarin sat in silence for a few moments, gazing into the distance. It seemed as if his world was falling apart. From the moment he realized his mother was killed, he had barely spoken a word to anyone. He could see people around him, moving and talking, but it was as if he couldn’t understand them. He didn’t want to believe any of this was real.

Finally, Jarin turned his head and looked at Sawyer, as if he had only just realized his friend was sitting next to him.

“Can you bring her back? Use your magic? Please…” the boy pleaded as he looked at Sawyer, tears filling his brown eyes.

“I… I’m sorry,” the sorcerer shook his head, sorrow and pain clearly written on his young face. “I don’t have that kind of power. I wish I could, I’d do it at once, but… I’m sorry.”

“That’s alright,” Jarin replied sadly, his head falling down. “I guessed as much, but I had to ask.”

Ercil scooted even closer to his younger brother, pulling him into a fierce, protective hug. Right now, they had to stick together, because they had no one else.

“We’ll be alright, Jar… I know it.”

“Ercil… I know I left, but it wasn’t because of you or mom. It was because of Kotho and the tribe. I never wanted a life like this,” Jarin spoke as he fought to hold back the tears. “I’m sorry I left you…”

“I know,” Ercil replied, not letting his brother go. “I know.”

It was a short while later, after all the wounded Mataki had been tended to, that a crowd started gathering around the tribe’s shaman. They looked on as the old woman knelt on the ground, Sawyer’s magical vines wrapped tightly around her body. The young sorcerer held his wand, ready to fire at anyone who even attempted to attack them, but no one dared do anything. Murmuring among themselves, the tribe members made sure to steer clear of Sawyer and his friends. None of them desired to end up like Vaunga or worse...

Once Ercil joined the remaining members of the tribe, accompanied by Jarin and Magana, silence once again befall the group. Driven by hatred and pain, the older brother approached the shaman and without warning backhanded her across the face. The blow was so forceful that the old woman fell to the ground, but remained silent. Squirming like a worm, she struggled to get up but failed, as the vines would not loosen up.

After watching her wriggle for a while, Ercil finally turned to Sawyer. “Release her. I want her to be able to look me in the eyes as she faces her destiny.”

With a simple nod, Sawyer pointed his wand at the old woman and the vines around her body retreated into the ground, freeing her.

“Get up! On your knees!” Ercil commanded and Vaunga obeyed, but the look of defiance and satisfaction remained on her old, wrinkled face, taunting the young man.

“Speak, cursed hag! Is this what you wanted?! All of these pointless deaths - that is your doing! You and Kotho have brought nothing but ruin to this tribe! My mother is dead because of you!” Ercil cried out, fighting hard not to let his tears show. He had to be strong, if only for Jarin and Magana - his only family.

“I never killed anyone,” Vaunga spoke slowly and calmly.

“No, but you might as well have! You let Kotho believe your ritual would protect us, but he wouldn’t listen to me! Now so many of our men and women are dead - their blood is on your hands!”

Ercil’s words caused a commotion, as the entire tribe started clamoring and hollering at the shaman, demanding justice. For the first time, Vaunga looked at them with fear. They were no longer gullible people ready to die for their chieftain - they were an angry mob out for her blood.

“So my child died because of you?!” a middle-aged Mataki woman stepped in front of the crowd, wiping the tears off her face. “Why? We trusted you!”

“Blame your chieftain, not me! It is not my fault Kotho was greedy and wanted the riches of the Diamond Dunes,” the shaman replied. “He was willing to risk your lives for it.”

“Diamond Dunes?” Sawyer asked in confusion. It was the first time he had heard of such a place. He looked at Castor and Cyr, but they just shook their heads, also unaware of what the shaman was talking about. Perhaps Macarius would know something about that, the sorcerer thought.

“That’s the name of this bloody desert,” Ercil explained, his voice dripping with hatred toward Vaunga. “Desoloth ta’Pah in High Escarian, or Diamond Dunes in our language. Named after long-forgotten diamond reserves hidden beneath the ground.”

“What? That’s not true,” Sawyer shook his head, glancing from Ercil to Vaunga. “Desoloth ta’Pah means the Barren Lands, because that’s exactly what it is - a dry, barren desert. Esthor told me when I was in Alduin.”

“You know Esthor?” Ercil asked, looking at Sawyer as if he had just grown another head. Just as Macarius was infamous for being the most powerful sorcerer in Thar, Esthor was widely known as the best sorcerer in Alduin. Even the Mataki knew about him, especially after the news spread that he helped overthrow the former King Norius. Ercil never knew how much of that was true, and how much of it were only rumors spread by misinformed people.

“Of course, I’m one of his students,” Sawyer replied proudly. “His master Khalgos is well-versed in High Escarian, and he told him about the Barren Lands.”

“So that was another lie of yours!” Ercil growled, turning to look at the shaman.

“Do you expect me to repent? You are wasting your breath,” Vaunga replied, looking at Ercil with disdain. “Tell me, whose fault was it that I lost my husband and sons years ago? They all died fighting hopeless battles for this accursed tribe!”

“We cannot bring them back, but none of these people right here killed your family! They were always there for you, and this is how your repay them?!” Ercil yelled, struggling to outvoice the crowd that had began chanting, asking for the shaman’s death.

“If you think I care about anyone in this bloody tribe, you are even more foolish than I thought. I curse you all to di-”

Suddenly, the shaman’s eyes went wide as she felt a stabbing pain in her stomach. Gasping for breath, she looked down and saw a blade dripping with blood, as the Mataki woman who lost her own son in battle stood behind her, holding the handle of the weapon. Quickly after her, other Mataki men and women stepped forward, stabbing the shaman with their blades until the old woman fell to the ground, lying in a pool of blood.

Using the last bit of strength she had left, Vaunga raised her arm and pointed it at the tribe.

“May all of you...” she started to speak again, but before she could finish, Ercil took a step towards her. In one quick motion, he drew his sabre and slashed her throat, silencing the shaman for good.

~~

Left without a leader and having faced betrayal from within their own ranks, the Mataki were lost. Still mourning the loss of their fallen brothers and sisters, the remaining tribe members grabbed what few belongings they had and started distancing themselves from the Citadel, wanting to leave the desert lands as soon as possible. However, they had no one to lead them anymore. Demoralized and exhausted, there was no one who would step up and try to assume the role of the chieftain after Kotho’s death.

“What are you thinking?” Magana stepped closer to her lover and linked their arms together. Ercil stood next to his brother and gazed ahead, looking sadly at the Mataki people moving past them.

“They need a leader,” he finally spoke, “but not me. I can’t do it, not after everything. I thought I could save them - from Kotho, from Vaunga, but...”

“But you did, my love,” Magana interrupted him, turning to face him. “You did the best you could in your position. You warned Kotho, but he didn’t listen and that’s on him! But you can’t blame yourself for what happened. You did everything in your power.”

“I just wish it was enough… Still, I can’t be the chieftain. I don’t want to, I’ve had enough,” Ercil shook his head before turning to look at Jarin. “You were right to leave when you did.”

“Brother, I’m sorry…”

“No, I understand. Being in this tribe brought us nothing good, only war and death. I wish I had seen it sooner. We will be better off without it. We can go somewhere and start a new life… together.”

“Ercil, I-”

“Listen to me, brother. Magana and I wish to be married. We want to go somewhere, a small town in Thar, perhaps Alduin, and make a new start. Would you come with us? I don’t want us to part ways again,” Ercil pleaded, taking his brother’s hand.

It was all Jarin could do not to cry. He looked at the ground for what seemed like an eternity before finally replying with a simple nod.

“I would like that, yes. I want to have my own life, but that doesn’t mean it has to be away from you.”

The two brothers hugged, feeling hopeful for the first time in a long while. Now they would finally be able to stop fighting and running for their lives, and perhaps have some semblance of a normal life - whatever that meant for them.

“I have to say some goodbyes first,” Jarin whispered to his older brother as they separated, and went over to where his three friends stood. “Hey,” he said in a soft voice, looking sheepishly at the other boys.

“Hey… How are you feeling?” Cyr asked, and Jarin realized it was the first time the boy was not angry or frowning. Instead, he looked genuinely concerned.

“I’ll be alright,” the scorpion shifter replied. “Ercil and I… we decided to go together, with Magana, and start a new life somewhere.”

Jarin looked at each of his friends, gauging their reaction. Before he knew it, he was stuck in a group hug as each of the boys wrapped their arms around him.

“We’ll miss you,” Castor wept. “I- I know we didn’t know each other for long, but I think of us as friends.”

“Same here,” Sawyer added. “You were a good friend to us.”

“I feel the same for all of you. I think of you not just as friends, but as brothers,” Jarin declared as he wiped his cheeks for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. He had never cried that much in his entire life. “All of you have helped me so much, especially you, Cyr. I don’t know what I would’ve done in that Citadel if it wasn’t for you.”

Cyr smiled weakly, feeling his eyes getting teary. He absolutely hated it, but there was no helping it. All he could do was laugh at the emotional mess he had become.

“It feels like ages ago that we found ourselves in that terrarium, huh? I woke up and this big scorpion was on me... I thought my heart would stop!”

“I wonder where Dymia is,” Jarin said.

“Me too… I’m sure we’ll hear from her again. She’s a lot tougher than she looks!”

The boys chuckled, reminiscing of how they met and how far they’ve come in such a short time. After another round of hugs and goodbyes, Jarin finally turned to leave.

“This is it then... I leave you here. Are you going back home?”

“Yes, our parents are waiting for us,” Cyr nodded.

“Of course… I do hope to see you all again some day. If I ever come to Garon's Well, I’ll be sure to look for you,” Jarin spoke with sadness in his voice.

“Hey, we’ll stay in touch, alright?” Sawyer blurted out, as if he suddenly remembered something. “I- I know a spell that will allow us to see and talk to each other, wherever you are!”

“You do?!” Jarin asked excitedly. This was amazing! The three boys were the best friends he had had in a long time, and this would mean he wouldn’t have to say goodbye to them forever.

“Yes! I just need to practice it some more. But rest assured, we’ll speak sooner than you think!”

“Then I shall look forward to hearing from you as soon as you return home!”

With a heavy heart and teary eyes, the four friends separated at last. As Jarin left with his brother and his wife-to-be, the other three boys reluctantly went their own way, seeking to return home to their town of Garon’s Well.

~~

The road ahead was long, but both Castor and Sawyer felt much lighter than when they first crossed the desert. This time, there was no threat of Macarius and worry about Cyr looming over their heads. Now, they were all reunited and ready to go back to their families.

After several failed attempts to summon horses they could ride, which included summoning a seahorse and a small, horse-shaped tree, Sawyer finally managed to conjure two brown stallions - one for Cyr, and one for Castor and himself.

From that point on, the boys’ progress through the desert lands sped up significantly. Even though they had to stop occasionally to make sure they would not get lost, they still managed to progress nicely and soon found themselves back at the entrance to Desoloth ta’Pah, the place where Sawyer and Castor encountered Eteon, the God of Time.

“Are you sure this is the place?” Cyr asked, looking around suspiciously. There was nothing unusual about the location - it seemed as innocent as any other part of the desert.

“Yes, I’m sure of it,” Sawyer nodded. “I recognize those rock patterns there.”

“And over there is where you created all those trees,” Castor pointed to the right.

“Yeah, that was so awesome,” Sawyer chuckled, but then went quiet when he saw his boyfriend’s face. “...and I will not do it again!”

“Do you think he’ll let us pass?” Cyr asked.

“I don’t know, but we best be careful not to do anything that might disturb him. Let us just ride through calmly, without pausing,” Castor suggested.

However, as the three boys continued riding through the desert land, their horses suddenly stopped, as if spooked by something. Just then, a vortex of air and sand started forming in front of them.

“Whoa, easy there!” Sawyer called out, calming his horse down. Cyr did the same, his heart beating wildly with fear and excitement. His eyes locked onto the vortex, waiting to see the God of Time and hoping he would be merciful towards them.

However, when the dust finally settled, it was not a divine entity that was standing before him, but someone else entirely.

“You?!” Cyr gasped as he saw the familiar tall figure standing there, clutching his staff in one hand.

“I said I would return you home, didn’t I?” Macarius replied with just a hint of amusement in his voice. Next to him, Dymia stood, smiling at the three boys.

“So, what did I miss?” the girl asked. “And did you miss me?”

“Of course we did, we’re glad you’re alright!” Castor gushed. “We were worried when you disappeared on us. But... what happened, how did you two…?” he asked, pointing at the girl and the sorcerer.

“How much time do you have?” Dymia chuckled and shook her head. She then proceeded to give the boys a brief account of what happened to her from the time they parted ways in the Citadel; they listened intently, throwing in occasional questions or comments.

“Wow… It’s good that you find him when you did,” Cyr spoke. “And you know, I’m glad to see you’re alive after all. We were all worried about you,” he added, turning to Macarius. “I’m truly sorry.”

Without a word, the old sorcerer just nodded, not wanting to discuss it any further. However, Dymia wouldn’t drop the subject so quickly.

“But tell me, what happened after I left?”

“How much time do you have?” Cyr said, repeating the same question she asked them. With a lot of interruptions from Sawyer, the boy told Dymia and Macarius what they had been through: from being captured by the Mataki, to fighting in the battle between Xaviel and the tribe.

“I’m... sorry for what happened. For everything,” Macarius said when the boys had finished their story, his face as serious as ever. It was hard not to feel guilty when everything that occurred was either due to his own actions or his son’s.

Not knowing what to say next, he approached one of the boys’ horses and gently stroked it on the side of the head.

“We should get going,” he said. “Do you mind if we lose the animals? I’m not that strong yet to teleport all of us.”

“I- very well,” Sawyer replied, looking at the horses with sorrow, reluctant to say goodbye to his new animal friends. “Alright, guys, this is where we say goodbye. Thanks for bringing us all the way over here,” he said, gently patting the animals’ strong necks and stroking their long, dark mane.

After Castor and Cyr dismounted, Sawyer waved his wand and the animals vanished just as they had appeared in the first place.

“Now… Everyone, hold onto me,” Macarius instructed and the three boys and Dymia did as they were told, each of them grabbing onto the sorcerer’s arms. As the orb on his staff started glowing, a massive vortex appeared around them, enveloping them all.

Before they knew it, the three boys were back in their hometown of Garon’s Well, once again safe with their families.

Macarius refused to stick around, however. After dropping them off, he and Dymia disappeared as suddenly as they came, leaving the boys to enjoy the next phase of their lives - hopefully much more peaceful than the previous one.

It was soon after that the old sorcerer found himself back in his Citadel, standing at the window of one of its towers and watching the sunset. Below him, the sand was still tainted with blood, evidence of the battle that took place in his absence. There were no bodies, however. Those were all long buried.

The only thing that remained were two crushed gargoyles that lay on the ground, eerie and seemingly lifeless. With one smooth motion of his staff, Macarius restored them in an instant. With their bodies back in one piece, the stone creatures spread their wings and took flight, returning to the top of the Citadel where the two remaining gargoyles were already perched.

However, the sorcerer did not pay much attention to them. His eyes were fixed on two figures far in the distance, becoming smaller and smaller as they went away from the Citadel.

“Are you not going to go after them?” Dymia asked, standing closely behind the sorcerer and looking through the window.

“What would be the point of that?” Macarius said. “He has made himself very clear. He wants to live his own life, be free to make his own mistakes. I should have realized it sooner.”

“Aren’t you afraid… of what he’s become? What Cyr described…”

“Afraid? No,” the man replied honestly. Out of all the emotions he was feeling at that moment, fear was not one of them. Betrayal, sadness, loneliness… But no fear. Now that he had lost everything, he had nothing to be afraid of anymore.

“I should return you to your grandparents,” he said, moving away from the window as the two tiny figures disappeared in the distance. “They must be worried.”

“Will you be alright? Maybe… maybe I could stay for a little while,” Dymia offered, unsure of what she wanted. She felt bad for the man, knowing he had lost so much. She longed to return home, see her family and walk the streets of her hometown once again. Still, that did not make leaving any easier.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Macarius said, giving her a dry smile. If there was one thing he was good at, besides sorcery, it was knowing how to put on a facade and appear strong. “I’ll live… Now come on, there is no point in waiting anymore. Your family awaits.”

With hesitation, the girl approached the sorcerer and looked up at him as he grabbed her arm. Glancing at his staff, she saw the orb begin to emit the familiar glow and felt the whirlwind starting to form around them.

“Goodbye,” she managed to utter before being caught in the vortex, feeling its pull on her.

“Until next time,” Macarius replied.

Moments later, they were both whisked away until they finally vanished into thin air.

THE END