Water spewed from his lips like a poorly constructed fountain. Though as Lapat crawled from the riverbed, his shell heavy with mud, he felt little more than poorly made. “I’m alive,” he coughed, water dribbling from his mouth as his throat burned raw.

  “Alive,” a dark doubt whispered. “Alive, but at what cost?”

  He pulled loose his drenched gloves and hissed. “Dammit!” The black spores scarred his entire palm now. Worse yet, the sickness had blossomed elsewhere, dotting his forearm with kisses of rot up to his elbow. “Dammit!” He pounded the mud with his fists.

  “Shouldn’t have used magic. There is always a cost. But you couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

  “What else was there? Be torn apart by pirates? Huh? Tell me?”

  His shouts went unanswered, the criticism retreating to the back of his mind.

  “Actions and reactions. There is no use in behaving irrationally,” Lapat lamented. He wiggled his fingers and toes, felt his body for bleeding, and breathed deeply. “Minor bruising, no obvious cuts or internal damage,” Lapat sighed, “If anything, I escaped with some degree of luck. But escaped to where?”

  The river carried past, sparkling in the evening sun. There was no wreckage. No proof of the awful crash, but an eroding trench from which he’d pulled himself free of the river’s clutches.

  Beyond the shore, the forest had thickened. Dark pines clumped close together as if huddling from the cold. He rubbed his cool flesh, shaking loose the water from his drenched clothes. He considered removing them and leaving the leather to dry but decided against it. What if someone came by and saw him? What if they recognized his condition?

  “Besides,” he assured himself, “the sun will set soon. I will need all the warmth I can manage. Though, how I’ve missed an entire day, I do not understand.”

  A cough gurgled in his chest, and he cleared his throat loudly. As he moved to stand, a choking fit overwhelmed him, erupting a burn down his esophagus. It took several minutes for the pain to slow.

  “Just water. The symptoms shouldn’t spread that quickly.” He spat bile and wiped the dribble from his chin. “I will be quite fine. I must find the others. Or at least Verna and the ring.” He marched through the mud, rising to dry land. “I can’t be the only survivor.”

  As the sun sank into the night, its fingers grasping at the tallest branches above him, there was little evidence of anyone or anything from the wreck. He’d found a jacket, and a leather hat hung upon a floating branch as if left for him, but little else. He searched upriver in hopes of other survivors, and downriver for debris from the wreck, but it seemed as though all traces of his voyage had vanished.

  “Or...” A voice warned in the back of his mind. “You are the one who is lost.”

  Lapat ignored the voice. Certain that it was a product of his recent stresses. He continued on, calling out and marching back and forth until his legs ached and the coughs ran his throat sore. “There has to be something. Lapat argued, fighting the rising panic as the warmth of the day faded. “I can’t give up. I have to find someone or a trace of something to follow. Don’t panic, gather your thoughts, and figure this out. You are a scholar of Meerside. You can best a simple forest.”

  But as more time passed and darkness covered the wood, fear built in his chest. He scratched his arm; the black spores embedded in his skin like mold. “I... I must do something. Anything. I told Rosie I would be back soon. I can’t delay. I-”

  Lapat froze, sniffing the air. Smoke and roasting meat mixed in his nose, forcing a rumble from his gut. He searched the forest rapidly, catching the faintest glimpse of light in the distance.

  “Hello? Is someone-” He grabbed his throat, shards of pain rubbing raw. “Raw from shouting all day,” he diagnosed. “Tired from the voyage. Not a symptom. Surely not a symptom.”

  Following the dim light through the brush, Lapat came to the edge of a small grove. At its center, a campfire burned, the flames licking a chunk of meat, sizzling with every fatty drip. Lapat clambered forward, stomach rumbling. Only once he entered the light did he see a figure seated at the fire.

  “I’m sorry to intrude, sir,” Lapat stammered. “My ship has crashed, and I am trying to get to Lightfall. I cannot find my companions. Well, companion. I am afraid the rest are not of my charge.” The words tumbled from him, the pain and exhaustion driving him forward. “To be blunt, I am lost and quite weary. Would it be too much of you to ask…”

  The figure turned. Sat upon a log, a long black cloak draped past his feet, covering his wide frame. His hood was cast back, exposing a square jaw with a blonde beard speckled with wisps of white.

  “Please,” the man smiled kindly. “Sit.”

  Lapat collapsed opposite him, all good manners and sense straining to remain. “You are too kind, sir. To be honest, I thought I would spend the night alone and lost out here. I am quite lucky-”

  “It is okay,” the man said, the gold flecks in his eyes sparkling. “Please eat. Enjoy the warmth. I am glad you are here.” The stranger skewered a chunk of meat and handed it across the fire.

  “This is delicious,” Lapat moaned as taste flooded his mouth. “What is it?”

  “I’m glad you enjoy it.” The man cut off another piece to share. “In my hometown, this recipe is a tradition for new friends and travelers. Sometimes one and the same.”

  “I don’t believe I’ve ever been so hungry in all my life! I feel as though I’ve been walking for hours. I don’t know how much time has passed.” Lapat devoured the food, pausing only for a breath as the man handed him more. “You are incredibly kind. I envy your village if this is how you treat strangers.”

  “What is a stranger but a story yet to be heard?”

  “Well, my story at present is pitiful. If I hadn’t found you, I don’t know what I would have done.”

  “You would have found your way,” the man assured him. “Your legend does not end tonight.”

  “An old man lost in the woods is hardly a legend.”

  The stranger laughed, his voice a deep baritone. “We often have humble beginnings,”

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Blissfully warm juice dripped down Lapat’s chin. “Oh, I’ve made quite a mess and a fool of myself.” He wiped the grease away with his tattered sleeve. “You have been so hospitable and kind, but I have yet to even introduce myself. My name is-”

  “Lapat Braveson.” The man smiled. “I was hoping we would meet tonight.”

  Lapat froze; his was blood cold. The darkness of the forest pressed in on him, a silence he had not realized until now. He was alone with this stranger. Completely alone. “How do you know my name?”

  The man locked his gold-flecked eyes on Lapat. The weight of his stare froze him in place. “There is nothing to fear. You are safe here.” The man’s smile was still as stone. “No harm will befall you this night.”

  The fire crackled, shattering Lapat’s fright enough to compel him to flee. He rushed to a stand, old bones creaking and new wounds screaming in protest. “Thank you for your hospitality. But I must find my companions.” Lapat stepped back. “They are likely nearby now if I shouted for them.”

  “Perhaps, if you could shout,” the stranger shrugged. “But unlikely.”

  “Regardless,” Lapat stammered, putting a hand to his raw throat. “I should be going-”

  “I would prefer it if you stayed.”

  Lapat searched the forest. The stranger was young and strong. But if he made it to the river. Then perhaps...

  “You won’t make it, Lapat,” the man said plainly. “Running about in the dark? You are smarter than that.”

  Lapat grasped his shaking hands. “What would you suggest I do?”

  “You are free to do as you wish. You are not captive here.” He gestured to the fire. “Allow me a moment. If you do not enjoy what I have to say, you are at liberty to depart.”

  “If I choose to leave now?”

  The stranger looked down at Lapat’s infected wrist. “You have little time. Why you waste it tramping through the woods in the cold? Please, sit.”

  Lapat pulled down his sleeve, covering the blackened flesh. “It’s nothing. A burn. From the shipwreck.”

  The stranger shook his head. “You don’t need to lie, Lapat. You are safe here.”

  “Excuse me, but I do not know you. So, it takes more than a stranger’s promise to ease my nerves regarding my life.” Lapat turned away, peering again uncertainly to the shadowy woods.

  The stranger sighed, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Shall I swear on your wife?”

  Lapat whipped his head back. “What did you say?”

  “My wife, she’s passed now. Will you stay if I swear on her memory that no harm will befall you tonight?”

  “What matter is your wife to me? I know not you or your name. Why would I put faith in the memory of your wife?”

  “Because you know what it means to love as we do.”

  “I do?”

  The man smiled sadly. “You do. As do I. It is a rare and true thing. Something we have in common.”

  Lapat sat down slowly, eyeing the stranger across the flames cautiously, and yet... “Who are you?”

  “I’ve had many names,” The stranger admitted. “None of which suits me anymore. I only ever wanted to be hers.” He raised his hand. A thick band rested on his finger, shimmering scarlet like a ruby with a swirling black and white inset.

  Lapat touched his own wedding band beneath the glove, his suspicions fading. “What do you want?”

  The stranger sighed, “For tonight, I’d like to talk. It is not often I speak with someone who understands.”

  “Understands?”

  “What it feels like when she calls your name. It’s like a song, isn't it?”

  Lapat felt it. A distant voice, a memory of warmth and peace. A smile on her face, a bad joke, a whisper in bed. “Yes. Her voice always calms me.”

  “What is she like?”

  “She is...” Lapat swallowed, memories swirling in his mind, warming his heart like a kiss. “She is the most selfless person I know. And as stubborn as they come. She is strong and kind.”

  Tears built on his eyes, an ache of being without tugging at his heart. “I feel warm around her. Good. Light. Whole. Even on our worst days. I’ve never known anyone like her.”

  “Is there anything you wouldn’t do for her?”

  “No.” Lapat didn’t hesitate. “I would do anything for her.”

  “As I would for mine. She was...perfect. Flawless.” The man’s speckled eyes flicked to the fire. “Time is running short. You don’t have long left, do you? For you and your Rosie.”

  Lapat looked down, grasping his infected arms, anger and shame burning his face red.

  “It’s not your fault, Lapat.”

  “You don’t know what I’ve done.”

  “I don’t need to. She doesn’t blame you. It was never your fault.”

  “Yes, it is.” Lapat’s voice cracked.

  “No,” the man said softly. “You can’t blame yourself.”

  “But it is all my fault!” Lapat shouted, tears filling his eyes. The words came out angry and broken. “It is all my fault. I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have used magic. I know better! I knew my sickness was progressing. I could feel it inside me. Rotting me away. Spreading. If I had been more patient or focused harder, it never would have infected me. I could have mitigated the disease-”

  “No.” The stranger’s eyes darkened, lost in the burning coals. “That is not your fault. None of this is. You were tricked. Trapped. You were never told the rules but still forced to play the game. Forced to suffer the consequences. This was never our fault. They did this to us.”

  “They?”

  “The gods,” he growled. “The sickness, as you call it. It is a curse. One put on by the hands of cruel gods with selfish designs.” The stranger looked to the sky accusingly and back to Lapat. “Do you understand what you hold in your hands? What runs through your blood when you tap into the other side? When you embrace that magical glow?”

  He bared his teeth, the shadows casting a wolf hunger on his face. “Power. Power the gods hoard for themselves. It is the essence that makes them gods at all.”

  “I don’t know-” Lapat furrowed his brow, but the man continued.

  “I’ve seen it. They bleed like you and I, but they’ve spent so long gorging themselves on the other side that they have deluded themselves into demanding our prayers. But I know the truth.” He pointed a thick finger at Lapat. “That rot that poisons you. The ache, the throb, the sickness that pollutes your every breath, it is their design.”

  “I-I don’t understand,” Lapat stammered. “Magic has always had a cost. Overexposure causes the rot in everyone.”

  “That is what we are told to believe! That it is a natural limitation on a mortal’s soul! But it is a lie,” The stranger hissed. “You feel it in your heart, but you let your mind blind you. Why are you here at all? Traveling on behalf of a goddess's lackey? One that dictates life and death on a whim? Hoping that with her help, or of those who bow before her, that you’ll find a cure? That they’ll deign to heal you?”

  His muscular frame twitched. His white teeth gnashed together. “No. We are limited. Our hands reach into streams that are as sure to feed us power as it is to rip away our flesh as we grasp for it. We are punished for holding onto what is rightfully ours. Tormented and scarred for pushing past a wall that never should have been raised.”

  Lapat’s mind raced. “They say it is a barrier between this world and the next. One where magic runs rampant, or a vacuum in which magic in its purest form leaks into our world and turns into what we summon.”

  The man leapt to his feet, roaring. “But who built it? Who cast a wall between us? Who denies us that which is ours by right? Gods? Cowardly beings, scared to see you and I, strong enough to claim our own, take a place beside them?”

  The flames flickered wildly, licking at the stones, lashing at the sky. “The only reason you are dying, the only reason your wife is cold without you by her side, is the gods! They take and take and take! It is never enough!” The stranger roared.

  Lapat fell back in fear, heartbeats passing in terror. “I-I-I don’t understand. Please, I’m sorry!”

  The man stood panting, his fists clenched. Slowly, the fire calmed, the flames returning to their natural state. The stranger’s quiet voice quivered. “You don’t understand.” He looked down, ashamed. “I am sorry, Lapat. I... I lost control of myself. I apologize, sincerely, I do.”

  Lapat leaned forward, hands still shaking in fright. “It is alright. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “Upset me? No, Lapat, you didn’t-” The man sat in silence, staring into the flames as if searching for something. “Thank you. You...you are a good one. Ever since my wife…was taken. I only long for her. I am empty without her by my side,” the stranger sighed. “In a way, I feel a kinship with you.”

  “With me?”

  “Yes.” The man stroked the glittering ruby band around his finger. “But I’m afraid I have ended our time together on a sour note.”

  “You are leaving?” Lapat asked.

  “I cannot stay long. Not as of now. But don’t worry, I’ll find a way to return. There will come a day when you know the truth.” He smiled. “I look forward to speaking with you again soon.”

  “Where will you go? It is the dead of the night.”

  The man stared at the starless sky. “Things are changing. Soon, all will be different. You will see. They will all see.” He turned and walked into the dark forest, disappearing without a trace.

  Lapat watched and listened for hours, but the stranger never returned. As the night dragged on, Lapat finally submitted to a dreamless sleep.