Since Farha needed time to rest, Orm offered to let them stay at his place for the night. Kellta tried to refuse—guilt gnawed at her for taking advantage of his kindness—but he didn't give her a choice.
With the rest of the day open, Elion decided to explore the village.
It was beautiful, in its own quiet way. Built across three tiers, it felt carved into the land rather than laid atop it. The lowest plateau housed farms, where unfamiliar crops swayed and strange cattle grazed. The Voice of God hadn't classified the livestock at all, which meant the energy produced by their souls wasn't significant—barely a flicker.
Above that, the second plateau served as the village's heart. The town square was bustling with modest homes, workshops, and a tavern. There was a blacksmith, a woodworking shop, and a few market stalls.
At the highest point stood the village chief's house. overlooking everything like a watchful eye. Kellta had once mentioned the man. He wasn't popular; not being native made that inevitable. Still, he kept things running, though her tone had carried a thick resentment when she'd said so.
Orm's home sat on the edge of the forest, at the second tier's outer rim. Its matching tile roof and the torchlight that danced along its wooden walls lent the place a warm, rustic charm. Villagers still gave Elion wary glances, stepping aside to avoid him—but that suited him just fine. Less talking.
During his stroll, he spotted Kellta standing motionless before an old house. Her mask concealed her face, yet her posture betrayed a subtle longing.
"Is everything alright, Ke—eh, Scorched?" Elion asked, grimacing a little as he used the nickname she'd chosen.
She turned to him, startled by his presence.
"Yeah…"
"What's this place?"
"This was… my home."
She said nothing more, just kept staring at the building. After a moment, she turned to face him.
"So. Where exactly is that relic you're searching for—the one that can lift my curse?" she asked, her tone not showing suspicion toward him—just uncertainty.
Elion considered lying. Telling her he knew where it was would secure her help, but that didn't feel right.
"We're not sure yet. The relics are usually hidden near major landmarks. We think this one might be at the river's estuary."
Kellta's posture shifted, surprised.
"The First Finger is at the Ocean of Entropy?"
Ocean of Entropy?
Elion had never heard of it.
"What is that?"
"It's where the river empties. A black, boundless sea. That's where the city of Ithaka lies."
Ithaka?
The name tugged at something in his memory.
Wasn't that the lost city of the Earth God? A remnant of the Second Age?
"If the relic's really there, we've got a problem," she added. "It's at least a three-month journey. And the deeper we go, the stronger the creatures become."
Damn. I thought we were finally close…
"Is there any way to get down there?" he asked, already fearing the answer.
"Not really. Only the King's Envoys dare to do the journey. I doubt we could manage it alone."
Seeing his confusion, she elaborated:
"They're elite soldiers. Nobility, basically. Sent only on the most dangerous missions by the King of Ithaka."
So Ithaka still exists? According to the few surviving records from the Third Age, it had been destroyed.
"Do they come here often?"
"No. Villages like this only see them if there's a royal message. Otherwise, we're forgotten."
Elion nodded slowly.
What do we do then? Do we still attempt the way down to the Ocean of Entropy?
He shook his head.
That's suicide.
A thought he'd been burying ever since he met Kellta began to surface.
What if we don't go?
The fire-wielding imp had survived as an Unlocked with an unstable soul—and she'd done so alone. And here, there was a whole village, a place where he might actually live. Thrive, even.
Would it be so bad to give up? To just forget about going back and live here, in the Depths.
I could open a restaurant, like I've always wanted to. There's no shortage of history to uncover… I wouldn't even have to see my father again…
"What are you thinking about?" Kellta asked, pulling him out of his spiral.
He blinked.
"Nothing. Just… I don't know how we're supposed to survive this."
She studied him for a moment.
"We'll figure it out. But not here. Believe it or not, this place is more dangerous than the wilds."
Dangerous?
He couldn't tell if that was personal bias—or something darker.
"I guess…"
They returned to Orm's house, where Kellta and Elion prepared dinner together. With her knowledge of the local ingredients and his culinary skills, the result was nothing short of spectacular. They served the meal at a long, pale wooden table.
Eshrod was already seated, her left eye sparkling with anticipation. Orm joined them soon after. Farha, still recovering, hadn't woken yet.
"When did you learn to cook like this, Kel?" Orm asked between bites.
"That was mostly Elion, but I experimented a lot while living alone…"
A quiet fell over the table.
Eshrod shattered it in her usual fashion.
"Ah yes, this hits the spot. Would've loved to share it with the sleeping princess, but alas—at least I get to dine with the cutest little imps in the village."
Her gaze flicked between the two Dwellers of the Depths. Kellta blushed slightly and scratched her neck. Orm gave a courteous smile.
Gotta hand it to her—she knows how to cut the tension.
After the best meal they'd had in weeks, Orm showed them to their rooms. There were two infirmary rooms, each with two beds. One was already occupied by Farha. Eshrod and Kellta took the other, leaving Elion to share a room with the Mute Demon.
He collapsed onto the spare bed. The coarse sheets against bruised skin felt like heaven after so many nights sleeping on dirt and stone.
The room was sparse—just stools and small tables beside each bed.
Before sleeping, Elion studied the runes on his forearm, tracing every line like a quiet ritual. The enchantments still held no obvious meaning—but the surrounding script, written in Terask…
He was confident he could give a more accurate translation than the Voice of God most of the time.
His curiosity stirred. He glanced over at Farha, sound asleep, her breath even and calm. Elion stepped onto the wooden floor, approaching her bed. He grabbed her right hand gently and stared at her index finger.
Huh… Mute Requiem… fitting.
He slept like the dead. That's what a real bed would do after half a month of wandering the wilds.
When he finally awoke, which must have been quite late—Farha was sitting up, staring at her hands like they didn't belong to her.
She turned to him when she heard the bed next to hers creak, eyes full of questions.
He gave her a small smile.
"Welcome back."
She touched the back of her neck and winced.
"Yeah, that might need a bit more time to heal," he said.
Her expression remained full of questions, but Elion offered no answers. Instead, he stood and motioned toward the door.
"Come on. I'll make breakfast. You can meet the others."
She raised an eyebrow and swung her legs over the side of the bed, wobbling as she stood. Elion caught her before she fell.
"Here," he said, offering his shoulder.
They made their way to the dining room. Eshrod was already there, eyeing Elion's sword with a grim look. When she noticed Farha, her expression lit up.
"Oh, damn. Thought I'd never see that pretty face again after you got infected by the Kral. Glad you're back," she said, standing up to pull her into a hug.
Farha gritted her teeth, giving a look of absolute despair at Elion. The young cook shrugged while the Gremlin crushed her with a show of boundless, painful affection.
The Mute Demon looked at Elion as if he had just betrayed her. It was rather scary, really.
Moments later, Kellta and Orm entered, drawn by the noise.
"That's Kellta," Elion said. "Newest addition to our merry band. And that's Orm—he's the one who saved your life."
Farha eyed them both, then gave a respectful bow of her head.
"You're welcome…" the shaman said.
She stared at him like he had just spoken another language, because he had. Noticing her look, Kellta drew the rune on her throat. Farha grimaced at the mouth-numbing sensation.
She looked at her, waiting for her to introduce herself, but the black-haired girl said nothing.
"She can't talk," Elion clarified, noticing both imps' expressions.
"Oh… well, nice meeting you… Farha right?" Kellta said.
The mute girl nodded.
"I'll go make breakfast," Elion announced, walking to the kitchen.
Farha tugged on his arm. Her eyes clearly said:
You're not leaving without explaining what happened.
The young cook sighed.
"Ask Eshrod."
She shook her head and pointed at him.
Why me?
Truth be told, he didn't really want to explain what happened to her, especially the… pleasant meeting with Mother. Nevertheless, she wasn't going to let it go.
"Don't worry, we've got breakfast," Kellta said cheerfully.
She disappeared into the kitchen with Orm before Elion could say anything.
Traitors…
Resigned, he pulled out a chair and sat. Farha and Eshrod joined him at the table.