"So how did you actually get kicked out? If you don't mind me asking, that is."

"Well, most people don't exactly like it when you go against the gods. Plus, I got a heap of people killed that day..." They sighed, but it was sadder than a sigh. It was more like something else, something Tyrael couldn't identify. Either way, they continued. "Well, at least Ghoulcrest's at peace now, I guess."

"Wait, wait, I just realized. How are we gonna get the commission done if you can't enter the city?"

Felamir smiled, looking back down at Tyrael. "You've been travelling for a while, you can go into the city and get the reward. Then when you come back I'll be waiting!"

"Oh, right. That's smart."

The gentle yet soothing crunch of the pair's footsteps on the drying leaves was all that was in the air for a while, until Felamir continued.

"So, what happened after... all your stuff? I mean, you also have frostbite on your ear, so what happened? Did you try to go back?"

"Aren't you supposed to be able to read minds?"

They chuckled awkwardly. "Well, it's a bit more complicated than that. It isn't really mind reading as much as seeing memories, and faces linked to those memories. Again, super complicated. So I ask again; what happened with you?"

Tyrael paused, standing completely still. There was a weird feeling in his stomach that he didn't like. It was like there were worms or something, wriggling around. Trying and failing to ignore this, the elf made a weird face and started trying to explain.

"Well, I, um, I lived on a mountain when I was younger. You probably know that much already." Felamir nodded encouragingly, and the pair continued walking. "It'd changed shape a bit since the barrier was made, so there was a thing that was a bit like a border around it. Cliffs and boulders and stuff. So when I was kicked out, I was kind of, um... stuck... for a while."

Felamir whirled around to face their friend, now walking backwards. They were surprisingly good at it, honestly. Didn't miss a single step while they were turning. Was it a skill or something? Maybe Tyrael could learn it? Or maybe it was just good balance, or something like that.

Tyrael thought for a moment of what they'd told him before. They were a soldier, and he knew they used a bow, which meant they probably had to be fast to dodge anyone attacking them from close up. But was the agility learnt, or were they just born with it? If they were born with it, was it just agility or was the agility from something else? Tyrael was pretty fast, could he learn to do that?

Honestly the real question was, why was he stressing so much over his friend being able to walk backwards?

Felamir stared at Tyrael, face drowning in concern.

Oh, shoot. He'd missed something again, hadn't he.

Thankfully, they seemed to somehow understand he hadn't been listening and repeated themselves. "Sorry, what?"

"Oh. Sorry. It wasn't as bad as it sounds, sorry, sorry, I said it wrong." Tyrael raised his hands, shaking his head a bit as well to further prove his point. "I wasn't stuck inside the barrier, but I couldn't get off of the mountain either. There was a hole in the ground, but I still had a few feet of space before the barrier."

After seeing Felamir's still very worried expression, he interrupted himself. "Oh, and, um, there were a few goats and stuff falling down now and then, so I was fine for food and all that stuff. That part was alright. But after a little bit, I don't know exactly how long, when it was winter, I knew I had to get out. But the walls were kind of at an angle, so I had to go inside the barrier for a bit while I was climbing, and I fell a couple times which meant I had to start over. So, um, that's the reason why I have this." Tyrael gestured to the reddish, whitish patch of skin around his left ear. "It isn't really a big deal. Plus, you have it too."

The pair walked in mildly awkward silence for a few moments until Tyrael turned to his friend and asked, "What happened with yours, anyways?"

The doppelganger chuckled a bit, looking off to the side towards a nearby bird's singing. "Nothing as dramatic as yours. I just wanted to see my friend's funeral, but I was late. To put it simply. Really late, actually. You remember how I mentioned that red void?"

The elf nodded.

"Well, when someone becomes a doppelganger, they have to stay in their god's dimension thing for a while. Luckily for me, another person was made into a doppelganger of War just a year or two after me, so we chatted for a bit." Felamir tilted their head, probably reminiscing or something like that. "I wonder how he's doing now."

"Wait, a year? How long were you in there?"

"Well, every doppelganger of War has to stay for ten years, but the other gods might be different. Not sure, haven't met many others. Either way, our one isn't exactly the nicest god." They glared at something that wasn't there as they said that last part. "But at least we become immortal, so, like, that's sometimes kind of a bonus. Rarely, sure, but I said sometimes, didn't I?"

Tyrael hug-tackled Felamir from behind, surprising them a bit. "Hey, hey, you alright? Is something wrong?"

The elf looked up at them. "Are you? You've been through so much, and you've lost your best friend and then you couldn't even go to his funeral!"

They nodded, tilting their head side to side and chuckling a bit before adding, "Remember. I'm an adult, and I'd already dealt with a heap of stuff before it. Plus I've had this thing called therapy and frankly you need it just as much as I did so we are going to get you some immediately after this mission. Alright?"

Tyrael nodded, and Felamir nodded as well. But the seriousness of the conversation was mostly ruined, as they raised their finger to tap the elf's nose.

"Boop!"

The elf glared at them, not even a ghost of a smile on his face.

"Sorry, couldn't miss the chance. Let's keep going."

Never ceasing the glare, Tyrael marched forward. He also frowned and crossed his arms dramatically, to further prove his point. Sure, he found it absolutely hilarious, but that didn't mean he wanted Felamir to know! That would make them brag about it for days.

He could laugh another time, one when this was all over.

He thought a bit more on what he'd do. It was simple. He'd go in, bring the dragon horn, and receive the reward for the commission. It'd take an hour max, but even that was pushing it. He'd been travelling alone – hells, living alone – in places like this. He'd go in, get the reward, go back out. Simple.

The afternoon air wasn't cool and refreshing, like the sweet winter that would soon arrive. But it wasn't humid either, like the frankly dreadful summers or springs. It just kind of... was. Not cool or warm or strong or weak, just existent. Nor was it nice or unpleasant. Again, just there.

There, for once, was no dread brewing in Tyrael's stomach.

He thought it was a nice change.

"Nervous?"

"I don't think so."

Felamir turned around to face their friend, walking backwards. "I sure hope not, cause we're here." They slowed yet again, bringing a hand up to run through their hair dramatically and winking. "This is where I have to leave you, sadly. Good luck."

The elf blinked. "Wait, what?"

He wasn't that nervous, sure, but he didn't realize they were already here!

Even though he wished he didn't, he saw the slight glistening of the barrier, and could tell that Felamir's earring was getting uncomfortable, given that they were fiddling with it. This was Ghoulcrest, no doubt about it.

"Are you sure you're ok with just waiting here?" Tyrael questioned, starting to grow more and more worried by the second when he was previously just fine. His friend put their hand on his shoulder, now dead serious.

"You've done this before, I trust you. All you need to do is just to trust yourself, Tyr."

A crooked smirk found its way onto the previously panicked elf's face. "I didn't know you were from a children's scroll, Felamir."

The pair broke out into a burst of laughter yet again, then hugged goodbye for now.

Felamir waited patiently for him and Tyrael went in and got the reward and then went back to them and they hugged and they laughed and then they travelled together for years and years after that and Tyrael never saw the butterflies ever again and everything was amazing for the rest of time, forever.

Heh.

As if.

Tyrael tried to wipe his mind of that sudden round of wishful thinking to think serious thoughts. This was serious. He had to do this. He couldn't mess this up, too much was counting on him. Like Felamir. They were sad, and obviously lonely. He could help with that! But the pair would probably need money, and Tyrael would need a way to thank them for helping him with the dragon.

Serious thoughts.

The elf took a deep breath, staring in front of him. He took a single step forward before running back to hug Felamir.

"Are you sure we wouldn't be able to redeem the commission at another town, or another guild, or something like that? One you could go in with me for?"

Felamir smiled, still fiddling with their earring. 'You can do it, Tyr. It'll take, what, an hour or less. Then we can leave again."

He let go of them, frowning.

"Tyr, trust me. It'll be fine, I promise. Nothing'll happen to me, and nothing would happen to you. You'd be in a room full of adventurers."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Nodding, the elf continued walking forward on the path. For some reason there weren't any birds, but that was fine. Probably. Although it made the area feel a bit off, it was probably just him. A lot of places didn't have birds. Sure, Tyrael couldn't actually name any of those places, but he was sure there were some.

Probably.

Finally, the grassy path turned into cobbled. Tyrael looked up to see the town, and saw just that. A town.

He frowned a bit. Where were all the people? The animals? The shops? All of the stuff you were supposed to see in even the quietest of towns?

Maybe it was just a quiet day.

A very quiet day.

Tyrael tip-toed through the practically silent town, looking around him.

People's doors were closed, and their windows were firmly shut. Most of the houses were even boarded up. What was their reasoning, though? Putting a plank or two over your door wouldn't protect someone from a dragon, would it? Unless the dragon was out of some stupid children's story and stole children who misbehaved, which Tyrael highly doubted. Those stories weren't real, no dragon would ever bother stealing children.

At least, probably not.

Hopefully not.

Anyways, if you ignored the boarded up houses, it was actually quite a nice place by the looks of it. There were flowers pretty much everywhere, and the flag of the Valley had been messily plastered over any surface it would fit. It didn't have any corpses, a welcome difference from the other side of town, but there weren't any people walking around the town either. It was eerily empty.

He could've sworn that he saw an actual tumbleweed.

Weren't those fake?

He'd always thought they were fake.

Apparently not.

The town seemed to be ignoring the fact that it was a sunny day just after noon, instead deciding to be just as dark and gloomy as a stormy winter's night. Apparently logic didn't exist anymore. Pleasant.

There weren't any decaying corpses in this area of the town, though, so that was a bit of an improvement. He should probably be grateful for that, if absolutely nothing else. He could be grateful.

No corpses.

Yay.

The crunch of the gravel echoed throughout the darkness, creating an unpleasant ring in his charcoal-colored ears. A thick layer of fog lay over the ground, letting Tyrael be thoroughly afraid of where he was stepping. Apparently Sameia was right, and watching your step was in fact important, because the elf found himself falling to the ground and back again onto his still incredibly painful nose. Pleasant.

His nose probably looked absolutely horrendous at this point. He made a mental note to first of all apologize to Felamir for the horror they would have had to deal with for the past few days. And secondly, ask them as politely as he possibly could to help bandage it. The elf tried to wipe the blood away gently, but just ended up making it hurt even more.

'Ow ow ow ow ow ow-'

Tyrael continued wiping the blood off of his nose, extremely close to cursing at the floor but deciding against it. Yeah, he would definitely have to apologize to Felamir at this point. Profusely.

Brushing the dirt off his cloak, the now more than mildly peeved elf stood up and continued walking through the town.

A single lantern shed light on what had to be the town's tavern. The place where he would cash in the dragon horn and, hopefully, get paid enough to keep travelling with Felamir for a while. He walked towards it a bit more hurriedly, considering he didn't want to keep Felamir waiting for too long. They may be immortal and stuff but they only had so many snacks, and being hungry sucked.

May as well get this over with as fast as he could either way, though. Snacks or not, Felamir was waiting for him. Tyrael didn't want to keep them waiting for too long.

What if they got bored? Or mad?

No, no. They wouldn't.

They were too nice for any of that.

Probably.

The door to the tavern was huge, almost twice Kedia's height, and made of some weird stuff that Tyrael thought was wood but was smooth and cold to the touch.

Weird.

Tyrael, growing more and more nervous by the second, pulled his hood up above his face. Better to be safe than sorry, and all that. He gently pushed on the far-too-cold door, peeking inside.

Inside, there was only the barkeep and four customers. This was also strange, as a tavern of a town this size would usually have over a dozen patrons at any given moment, but at the very least most of the customers looked like adventurers. The elf lit up a bit as he realized that one of them was one of the two aasimars he'd seen with the White Ravens, the one with the longer, pinkish hair. He walked over, glad for the semi-familiar face yet still a bit nervous.

"Hello, um, would you happen to know where I can submit a commission thing? My party members, um... aren't with me, and I haven't done it before." the short elf asked, voice wavering a bit.

He was still confused about heaps of things.

Why was the village so empty, and why did the aasimar look so tired?

He smiled, offering his hand out to Tyrael. "I'm Helxi, a high ranking member of the Ravens. No need to introduce yourself by the way, I saw you get admitted and all that. What's the commission? I could try help you submit it. Also, if I could ask where your party members are?"

Tyrael shrunk a bit. "The two guild members I was placed with didn't make it, but I found someone who I'm gonna travel with after the commission's done. They're who helped me with the commission."

Helxi raised one eyebrow, dropping the smile, but surprisingly enough didn't become any less threatening. Or mad. Or anything like that. He was still happy, just suspicious now. "Where are they, exactly? Are they still with you? Maybe they could join you officially now." He glanced behind Tyrael, presumably looking for his apparent new party member. When he didn't find one, he looked back at Tyrael for answer.

"They're waiting just out of town so that we didn't have to carry all our supplies in and out again."

Helxi nodded, then gasped a little, bringing a gloved hand up to the air in front of Tyrael's face. "Oh no, are you alright? That looks like a nasty scratch. I could call my friend down from the inn upstairs, and he could heal you if you want?"

Tyrael, noticing that his ears were cold, realized that his hood had fallen. Which meant Helxi was probably talking about his nose.

"It's broken, but it doesn't hurt that much anymore. I've had worse." Tyrael lied.

Helxi raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? Like, absolutely certain? My friend's really good at healing, it'd probably only take a minute or two."

"It's fine, but thank you."

"Ok, any other injuries? Its guild code for a senior adventurer to offer to heal any ailments a younger guild member has."

Tyrael shook his head.

"Alright then. And what's the commission again?"

"We killed the dragon that was attacking Ghoulcrest. Here, we brought one of its horns." The elf took the great dragon's horn out of his pouch, showing it to the adventurer in front of him. The adventurer in question shot up, grabbing the boy's shoulders a little bit too strongly and wrenching him forward.

"Are you absolutely deranged!?" he questioned, now yelling.

Tyrael shrunk a bit, confused. Why the sudden change of attitude? "No, I- I just did- I just did the commission, didn't I?"

The aasimar responded by digging his long, painted nails further into Tyrael's skin. "You don't even know what you've done, do you? Hells, how did you even do it?" Why was he this angry? It was such a sudden change, what had happened?

"Didn't I just do what the poster said?"

All that Tyrael could see was the cold, piercing blue of Helxi's eyes. He vaguely registered that there was a spell on him, but he was too distracted to do anything about it. Not that he could do anything about it either way.

"You're the one I've been looking for for the past few days! You're the one who killed the guardian of Ghoulcrest, aren't you?"

However wide the shivering elf's eyes were before, they must've doubled as Helxi said that.

'What? No. I wouldn't do that. I couldn't have done that. Could I?' Thoughts were racing through his head.

The tavern was now empty, all of the lights off. That couldn't be right, could it? No, no. It couldn't be. He must be going crazy or something. Either way, all of a sudden Helxi's words were practically echoing in the silence, and the possibly now insane small elf's heart wouldn't stop racing.

His attention was now drawn to the adventurer's clothing. He had long, mostly white gloves that had a bluish black band where they ended, just below the weird tattoos on his shoulders. Additionally, they were red with old bloodstains that came almost up to his elbows, and Tyrael now noticed that he had bloodstains similar to those all over him – on his shirt, his arms, his pants.

Pleasant.

He was probably dealing with one of those adventurers who couldn't care less about the blood on their hands.

This one, literally.

Helxi's boot also had a bandage wrapped around it, presumably to shield a hole. Or maybe, like, a tentacle or something. Who knew with this guy. His blue eyes had seemingly red pupils, and he was mumbling words in another language. Another spell.

As soon as he finished, the ground below them started to shake violently. Tyrael found himself falling onto his knees, still terrified. Helxi was suddenly right in front of him, irritatingly unaffected by the tremors, and the elf narrowly avoided being whacked in the face with a quarterstaff that was even taller than him, which Tyrael found quite unfair.

The elf thought on what Helxi had said a bit more. He couldn't have killed the guardian, he just couldn't have. He'd killed the dragon! The one that was attacking Ghoulcrest! Not the one that was protecting it! How would a town hire a dragon? No, no. Helxi had to be wrong.

Tyrael jumped to the side, avoiding getting whacked by the staff again.

"Mediocre at dodging, I'll give you that." Helxi complimented, though his tone was far too mocking to be true.

The elf took out the sword Felamir had given him, letting his muscle memory from his childhood take over. Apparently muscle memory was overrated, however, as within half a second it was violently knocked out of his hand and flung across the room. Tyrael, not wanting to risk losing something so important to his friend, made the decision to go and grab it. He walked backwards, though, not wanting to expose his back. Even though he hadn't fought anyone or anything in ages, he still remembered the very basics.

Sure, everyone around him would remember the basics and more, but it was good enough for now. Hopefully.

Yet again, Helxi muttered another spell. As he was doing so, Tyrael felt an insane burning on his legs. His mind was now a perfect mix of 'Did he really just set my only cloak on fire?', 'That spell's really cool!', 'How am I going to fix that?', and of course 'OH GODS I'M ON FIRE' because, well, he was on fire. And that wasn't exactly the best thing.

Why did people keep trying to burn him alive? First the goblins, then the dragon, now a fellow adventurer.

Did Tyrael really look like something someone would eat?

Was he just a pile of steak to everyone around him? If so, what, that was weird. If not, then why did people keep trying to burn him alive. Seriously. It was getting annoying, and he was starting to wish that they would just stop.

Pleasant experience all around, really.

Externally, all Tyrael could do was let out a weird noise that lay somewhere in between a scream, a yelp and whine. He stood up and started stepping on the fire to put it out, as any mildly sane person would do.

But, as he did so, he forgot to dodge the quarterstaff flying towards his probably-unrepairable-at-this-point nose.

a/n
around 3661 words

apologies to everyone here for having to read that absolutely dreadful fight scene (if it could even be called such a thing), i haven't written one in ages.

question 7: what do you think is next in store for Tyr? simple question but a classic hehe

so, another chapter done! warning in advance, by the way, the next chapter coming up is probably one of my less liked chapters I've written. i don't think it's bad or anything, it just took a while to write lol. but after it, especially chapters 10 and beyond, are probably some of my favourites so stick around for those :> I don't have anything else to say, so...
see you next time!