The farther north they walked, the drier the land grew––a development that Arjasoot found quite pleasing. Peat bogs and tangled scrublands gave way to fields of moss and tall, coniferous trees laden with sweet smelling cones.

Such delicate scents! Such rich favors! If only the people of the Hearth-Vale had gotten the chance to sample these heavenly odors for themselves! Maybe they wouldn’t have been so quick to...!

...but that was neither here nor there, Arjasoot thought. They turned their attention away from the scenes of natural wonder, putting all their focus on listening to the tales of their new traveling companion...

...and such shocking tales they were!

"You can’t be serious," they exclaimed. "Four times over?"

"The Deiuos are very quick to anger," Varayana explained, her face the very image of regal serenity. "And they love disguising themselves as mortals in order to test the character of random strangers..." Her left eye twitched: "And they’re very sensitive to having the logical basis behind their authority to make moral judgments questioned..."

"Even so!" Arjasoot exclaimed. "Four curses in a row is just too much!" They drew their leaf-shaped sword from its sheath and brandished it towards the churning skies. "I’m half tempted to fly towards heaven and give those Celestials a solid thrashing!"

"Arjasoot!" Varayana hissed. "No!" She waved her hand back and forth. "I’ve gotten enough attention from them as is"

Arjasoot’s anger vanished like a snuffed out lamp, and flecks of glowing red spread across their ashen cheeks. "Sorry," they whispered. "I didn’t think..."

Varayana gave Arjasoot a sideways glance. "It’s unseemly to apologize as much as you do," she said to the Smoke Spirit. "And if you apologize for the frequency of your apologies, I will be forced to kick you in the shins."

Arjasoot nodded thoughtfully and sheathed their blade. "Point taken," They said. "I won’t say another word! Only..."

They leaned in close to Varayana. She went still as stone, only the quiver of her ring-encrusted finger against her sword hilt betraying her unease.

"I still think the Deiuos who cursed you are proper gits," they whispered before stepping back.

Varayana raised a hand to her lips, sniffling the single, pig-like snort that escaped from them.

It wouldn’t do for a lady like her to lose her composure, after all.

#

Arjasoot leapt into the air, stretching their hand towards the lowest hanging branch. "Almost got it...!" They reached out and plucked a pinecone free.

"Ha!" They shouted, floating back down the ground and raising their newly acquired treasure towards the heavens. “Victory to me!” They turned to Varayana. “I don’t suppose you’d like to split this?” They asked.

“I have my own provisions,” Varayana replied, “but I thank you for the offer.”

“Very well,” Arjasoot said, dropping the cone into their brass pot. “More for me, then!”

The pinecone sizzled. Sweet smoke rose from their pot, the most fragrant of incense.

"Delightful..." Arjasoot sighed, shivering as they felt the sweet smoke nourish their ashen form.

"Is that really how you take nourishment?" Varayana asked. "You eat smoke?"

Arjasoot pounded their chest and let out a vaporous belch. "Is that really so surprising?" They asked. "Flesh creatures eat flesh, and smoke spirits eat smoke."

"Fascinating," Varayana said softly. "I should write that down." She started pawing clumsily through the contents of her satchel. "I could have sworn I’d packed papyrus...or was it my wax...?"

Distracted, Varayana walked face-first into the tree trunk.

“Oh!” Varayana stumbled back and clutched their brow. “Oh dear…”

"Are you alright?" Arjasoot asked.

"Me?" Varayana asked. A nervous giggle escaped from her throat: "Beside being cursed by the wrath of spiteful Deiuos, I’m just peachy...!"

Her eyelashes fluttered. She swayed and started to fall

“Vara!” Arjasoot exclaimed in alarm.

Varayana grabbed a low-hanging branch with both arms, leaning on it to keep herself upright. “It’s alright,” she said. “It’s fine–”

The tree-branch she held promptly burst into flames and broke off in her hand. Varayana fell face first into a patch of moss…which started to blacken and char in her grasp.

“It’s not fine…” Varayana confessed, rolling onto her back and starring up at the sky with dun, lifeless eyes. “I can’t hold other people. I can’t even have a simple nap because of these horrible curses...!”

“You can’t sleep?” Arjasoot exclaimed. They thought back upon all the books of human tales they read as a fledgling flame. “But isn’t a lack of sleep…” they dropped their voice to a hush. “…bad for humans?”

“Extremely so,” Varayana groaned, rubbing at her puffy eyelids. “But I need to reach the City of Springs. And the last time I slept, the Curse of the Gorgon Sleep make me wake up in a den of bloodthirsty Sailbacks…”

Her voice trailed off. “…sleep,” she said softly. “You said that sleep is bad for humans…” She sat up and grasped the Smoke Spirit’s shoulders. “Arjasoot,” she said. “Do spirits like yourself need to sleep?”

“No,” Arjasoot said. “We don’t need to sleep. Well,” they amended, “sometimes our healers prescribe sleep as a way to heal from an excess of vapor. I haven’t tried it myself…”

"So you don’t have to sleep," Varayana muttered under her breath, taking a step back and closing her eyes in thought. "The Curse of Combustion wouldn’t harm a Spirit born from fire. The Curse of Vanity clearly has no effect. The Curse of Love shouldn’t be an issue, I hope..."

"...Varayana?" Arjasoot said, confused.

"Listen," Varayana said, reaching out with her jeweled fingers, grasping Arjasoot’s hand in her own. "You said that you were in my debt, despite my insistence to the contrary." Her dark eyes glimmered with a shimmering light that sent a chill rippling through Arjasoot’s smoke-shaped body "Do you want to repay that debt?"

Arjasoot gave Varayana’s hands a reassuring squeeze. "Of course,” they said with a smile. "What kind of spirit would I be if I broke my word?"

"Even if it meant you’d be put in danger?" Varayana asked.

"I..."

Arjasoot’s flame-hot words died on their smoke-tongue.

What is this fear that courses through me, they thought? Were the Chanters of the Temple right? Were all my honeyed words of honor excuses...no! It’s not a sin to value your life! Isn’t it?

"I’m not the bravest fellow in the world," Arjasoot confessed. "I can’t say for sure if I have the mettle to lay down my life for the sake of another. But if there’s a chance I can live through this danger you speak of, I’ll gladly trust my life to your hands and the winds of destiny."

Arjasoot shut their mouth and waited for Varayana to respond. Would she applaud their honesty? Condemn their hesitance?

“Good enough for me," Varayana said. "Now listen: there are plenty of safe roads leading to Wedwel Dom, many of which pass by smaller cities and settlements. Under better circumstances, I’d be taking you down those exact roads, instead traipsing through these blasted wilds." A bleak look crossed her face. "However, one of my curses makes slumber...hazardous."

Next Chapter: Chapter Three