“Maybe we should just move on,” Arjasoot said, speaking softly as they and Varayana crept up the tower steps. “There might be other healing springs in other places…”

“I need to see it with my own eyes,” Varayana replied, her jeweled finger tapping a staccato rhythm against the hilt of her sword.

“But––” Arjasoot replied.

“I NEED TO SEE IT!” Varayana snarled.

Arjasoot flinched, but persisted. “You’ve seen what the Deiuos are capable of when they’re sit serene on their thrones, Vara,” they insisted. “Now imagine how ruthless they get when they Fall …!”

Vara did not shout Arjasoot down, which was a good sign. She kept climbing the staircase in silence, which was most assuredly a bad sign.

Arjasoot thought for a moment about leaving. They’d fulfilled their promise to escort Varayana to the City of Springs. They didn’t need to follow them any more...

...didn’t they?

With one last step, Varayana reached the top of the tower and looked out over the battlements. A hoarse, wild sob escaped her throat.

The hundred towers of Wedwel Dom rose from a basin of rippling water, temples and halls of pink-veined marble that glistened with dew. Behind those buildings...

...a steep cliff that seemed to stretch to the heaven. A slender waterfall, white-tipped waters roaring as loudly as the fiercest firestorms. Vapor rose from the waterfall’s base, moisture that formed into cloud banks with glistening rainbows on their backs.

On any other day, Arjasoot would have called it the most beautiful city in the world. Despite all the moisture –– perhaps even because of the moisture. Today, though…

A thousand rotten, bruise-colored tree roots wormed their way through the streets of Wedwel Dom, boring through the pink marble streets, coiling around the tall spires and temple domes. From their vantage on the tower, Arjasoot could see dozens of bodies impaled upon those leafless branches and spear-like thorns.

They could smell the rancid stink coming from their rotten, soggy flesh. Arjasoot never knew human corpses could stink so badly; they wished they’d never learned.

“You were right all along,” Varayana told Arjasoot, a disturbing tranquility in each of her words. “It seems that trees cannot be trusted.”

“No mere mortal tree could do this,” Arjasoot said, shuddering. “Great gods. Half a year of running and I still can’t get away…”

“What was that?” Varayana asked.

“Nothing,” Arjasoot said on reflex. They clenched their teeth together. "No," thy confessed. "It’s not nothing." They took a hoarse breath. "When the Mound Thralls attacked us that night by the river, they were rambling about the Sunken and how we couldn’t escape....” A horrible thought came to mind. “Gods, what if the undead came from this city…?”

“It’s quite possible,” Varayana whispered. “The tombs of Wedwel Dom hold ––held? –– many heroes.”

Her heart is breaking, Arjasoot realized. Her heart is breaking before your eyes, and here you stand meek and quiet. Act, you shameless Soot-thing!

“Don’t give up hope,” they told Varayana. “I’m sure there are other cities with healing springs out there….”

“THERE’S NOWHERE ELSE TO GO!” Varayana bellowed, drawing her sword and splitting the battlements with her swing.

Arjasoot flinched back.

Varayana pried her sword free from the sundered stone. She ran her finger along the bronze blade’s edge and sighed. “A chip,” she said. “Damn. I’ll need to find a smith…”

“Vara…” Arjasoot whispered.

“Do you know what it’s like to be cast from your home?” Varayana asked the Smoke Spirit, eyes locked on their sword. “Banished as a heretic? Convincing your parents to keep their mouths shut let they be condemned too?”

"I do..." Arjasoot whispered.

Varayana did not hear Arjasoot. She kept talking, words pouring from her in a flood: “Out in the wilds, you get cursed by the gods for impiety. You wander the roads, searching for a way to to lift those curses. And then you learn that the springs of home can cure you. Even knowing that I might be killed for returning home...I was happy. And then…”

Arjasoot took a step forward, intending to give their traveling companion a soothing hug...

…but then Varayana started leaking a dangerous amount of water from her eyes. Arjasoot halted mid-stride.

Varayana saw the stricken look on Arjasoot’s face and glared with her wet eyes “Tell me, Arjasoot,” she said. “Do you really know how I feel? Truly?”

“No,” Arjasoot whispered. "Not entire, at least."

Varayana snorted and turned her back on Arjasoot. She sheathed her carp-tongue sword and descended the sandstone steps with a slow, lifeless gait.

“And I pray I never do,” Arjasoot said to the empty air before drifting after her.

Next Chapter: Chapter Nine