Eleven days.

Eleven days we've been walking up and down, up and down, sleeping in the fucking cold either in clothes that don't hold in heat or no clothes at all. Don't even get me started on the latter.

Neither of us was particularly excited about the first day it snowed and soaked our clothes in the bitter frost. It pelted our faces as we walked up the first mountain top, a rope connecting us to the waist so we didn't lose each other in the storm. We found the smallest indent in the mountainside and huddled there for the night. It was either that or keep walking in hopes that a better shelter was up ahead, and neither of us wanted to take the gamble with the snow only getting stronger.

Even with the wood I summoned and the quick work of two rocks' friction didn't bring us solace. The wind easily sucked the heat away, resulting in us begrudgingly sharing a bedroll and what was left of each other's body heat. I will admit that I didn't mind snuggling up to his large form, but he seemed to have something against me. Not that he had much of a choice. I was pissed as is having to deal with yet another God's humor, and I certainly not turning into an icicle while I was asleep or get no sleep at all because my body was too busy shivering like some frightened pup.

I really, really fucking hate the cold.

For eleven days I've bugged his large ass. Pelting him with questions after questions about the forest, the land, the shoreline, where we're heading...pretty much anything that I could possibly think of. He tried staying silent for two days, but that's about as long as he lasted before threatening to cut the rope and leave me behind.

We've had to share a bed six more times since then, and I haven't missed the fact that his arm always ends up around me come morning. I pretend to be asleep when he wakes, liking how he so quickly removes himself from me as if I were a lion about to chop off his head. But at least I've gotten something out of it. Well, two somethings. Warmth, and information.

He finally gave in a cycle ago when we hit our third mountain top, answering my questions after I, myself, took a vow of silence for three days. I didn't ask questions after the previous five days of nonstop self conversing. I'm pretty sure he hated the silence more than I did, and that's saying a lot.

He hasn't revealed anything of his personal life as I have, mentioning all but my demon father or how it all went to shit. I know nothing of his family or how he ended up here. The only things I've gleamed are of The Blight and the people I was immensely relieved did not consist of the Roamers or Fiend.

As I suspected, The Blight is a prison, of a sort, which had me running him ragged for hours on end about why he was here. He went back to his silence for the rest of the day, and I gave up on it, knowing it'd be one of the first things I'd demand the details of from the Rulers. I don't trust him, but I trust him more than I do the Roamers or Fiend. One of which he stated doesn't bother him for more reasons unknown, and the other which doesn't venture this far into the forest. The Roamers want so badly to escape that they stick to the barrier's border, leaving the Fiend to have the rest.

His cabin is at the center of the forest, twelve miles from the base of the mountain range I'm assuming acts as a second barrier between us and what lies on the other side. The mountains wouldn't be such a bitch to cross otherwise.

Despite their magical barrier of death, the Northerners are apparently advanced and have taken steps in preparation for someone finally breaking through the forest to find them. It's how he knows the common tongue so well. How they got a hold of the language in itself is a question even he didn't know the answer to, but according to their teachings and writings, they've studied it for generations. Everyone is required to learn it from a young age for nothing more than the slimmest possibility that someone survived The Blight.

Makes it less work on my part, as I didn't even consider that they might've spoken a different language. Gods that would've made everything go to utter shit so fast, and I'm already on a tight timeline.

I did figure out that he takes great pride in talking about his people, so I pivoted from his personal life to more so on them, taking whatever information I could gain. It's not much, but it's something.

For one, this continent is far larger than our maps likely depict in Ker. Half of the eastern continent if I had to take my best guess on proportional wise. They have ten times the numbers I had originally guessed, somewhere around twenty towns, dozens of small towns, eight main cities that stretch several miles long in diameter, and their capital that holds thousands alone.

All his talk of his people and their traditions and lifestyle, and yet I learned more about him than when I directly asked. He's a strong man, that is blatantly clear, but he was forged that way. Something of a high-ranking guard, no doubt, based on his knowledge of fighting and skill with the bow. Could've been a General, maybe Captain of the Guard. He's older than he looks too. Someone who knows so much and speaks so thoroughly on certain subjects has to have had years adequate to gain them.

But he's so honorable and earned a high rank, what did he do to get thrown in here? The Blight is something of a death sentence, only the worst of the worst would be given this punishment.

On our ninth morning about an hour since we had woken up and continued our journey, he told me More about the forest. I didn't ask questions for a while, letting him talk once more and enjoying just how much he seemed to not only know the landscape, but love it. Odd for someone to love a place that seems keen on killing us, but he pretty much confirmed what - who I had then known as Kairos, and now know to be Draven, the leader of the Fiend - had told me. The forest moves at a slower time than the outside world. The Fiend are the creatures of the night, ruled by the anger they walked into the forest with. The Roamers are the spirits of lost souls, not dangerous to anyone, just annoying.

The new information I gleaned from him would've been twenty times more helpful at the beginning of my long-ass stay in this cursed place. The Fiend, for example, are creatures of the night because they're stronger at night. They draw strength from the moon to gain their speed, strength, and intensive sense of smell. They have no eyes because that is who they've chosen to become. Their anger burns their eyes, leaving them unable to see the world or any family, friends, or loved ones they once were able to see.

The Roamers are as they sound. They roam the forest in search of their souls. Spirits without souls, as he put it, cannot leave into the afterlife. The poor things never know that they lost their souls the day they gave up trying to get back to their other lives. It made me regret being unable to help all of them, and for throwing stuff at their heads, or rather through them. I'd apologize, but it's useless in their case.

Now the forest is a labyrinth of its own making. Anyone with the wrong intentions or without a clear mind will forever walk upon its ground in a neverending circle. It's why I could never find mountains before. Apparently, I wasn't clear-minded - which, mind you, is rather bullshit. I walked into this place with one purpose and one purpose, alone. To deliver a message and seek aid in an upcoming hell war. The fact made me hate the damn forest more.

Anyone with a clear mind and one who has accepted their fate to live the rest of their days within the forest is free to walk about it as they wish. It's why he was able to find food and shelter and survive for so long. He accepted his fate and the forest provided him with what he needed. The forest is now an enemy of mine. One which I plan to conquer once this whole mess is over. I will not have a bundle of trees and bushes tell me that I'm conflicted and incapable of accepting shit in my life. I already have my mother for that.

He finally revealed that he had been here for sixty years. Well, sixty years Blight time. That's what they call the forest. The Blight. That, I knew.

His sixty years here translates to five years in the real world. He's been here for five years yet has lived a lifetime within the forest. It made my head spin at just how long I've been here. I don't remember how many days it's been since I stepped foot into the forest, but he says it's only been three and a half days in the real world since he found me in the forest. In Blight time, that's about forty-two days.

Forty-two days in this fucking hell hole. At least, forty-two. Who knows how long I was here before he found me?

It took me all of yesterday to wrap my head around that. I figured out the math to all of it in my search for time passed. A year in here is four cycles, two days, and ten hours in the real world. A cycle in the real world is eighty-four days here, and a day there are twelve days here. Two hours pass for every day I live here. Two. Hours.

All day I did the math and counted the hours and days and cycles until numbers bounced too quickly in my brain to do any more. So I tried focusing on something else, and that's been plaguing me all day, today. Glancing over at Pepito - who has not given me his actual name despite his disdain for the nickname I use at every given chance, I debate asking him about it. I haven't spoken all day, so he shouldn't be too irritated. And if he is, then I'll just pick at his scabs until he's bleeding and begging for his mother to come kiss and clean the wound.

He watches the cave entrance we've decided to stay in for the night with keen eyes. I learned my lesson with that, having kept my mouth shut about his unease when we do take shelter in these caves. He told me to be quiet, but I didn't listen and we nearly got eaten by a wildcat and his friends who hunted us for two days before leaving us once we hit something else's territory. A day of watching the shadows, I decided that he was right that I might not have survived a day up here. Animals and creatures claimed the mountains as their territory, seeing as the Fiend hunt everything down below. Now everything up here eats whatever moves, even their own.

Thankfully, like the Dearg Forest back in Vandaria, these creatures don't like certain things. I'm currently covered in about twenty different things that I'd rather not name, nor pay any attention to just to survive this night alone. He doesn't look much better, to my enjoyment. Nor does he smell better. At least the rabbit I'm roasting over our tiny fire smells good, and thank the Gods that it's done because I was really fighting with my stomach that just wanted to scream like a wailing spirit.

I grab its leg and tear it off of the stick. The meat is cooked so perfectly that juice seeps from it and my mouth instantly waters.

"Here." I offer him the leg which he takes without so much as a thank you. I'm too hungry to be mad and sink my teeth into its other leg, not bothering withholding in a moan of amazement. He glances at me questioningly, only a small bite taken from his piece. "What? It's been three days of rationing those blackberries for three meals. Excuse me if I miss the taste of flesh."

"Are you always this irritable?"

I don't bother swallowing before answering. "Only when I've been trapped in a barren forest for forty-two days. Speaking of which, you haven't told me where you're taking me. I assume it's the border the Fiend mentioned. The 'palisade barrier' or whatever, but I didn't think it'd be such a bitch to get to."

His nose scrunches at my use of foul language, just as it always does when I curse. I think it's funny that he detests such language. I can't wait to see his face when he meets all of my friends. If he meets my friends.

"The barrier is real," he says, finishing off his leg and reaching to grab more. He better eat faster if he wants the third section.

"No shit. I just thought it'd be closer."

"The mountains separate the southern half of the forest from the northern half where the barrier ends. It's there that you will find the people you're looking for."

"Wait...the other half of the forest? You mean to tell me there's another half more of it?" I pause my inhalation of my food. Just the thought of having to go through another six cycles more of this shit can pause my appetite.

"The forest expands when its occupant number increases. The more spirits there are, the bigger the forest," he explains plainly. He left that out earlier.

"Well, shit, in that case, we should just start killing off people to save us the time of day."

"We're not killing anybody," he seethes.

"Says the man who's perfectly fine with killing the Fiend."

"The Fiend are different. They're brutal and have gained many in their years, but their territory is only the southern half of the forest. They won't go through the mountains."

"Why not?"

He glances at the cave entrance again before turning to me more fully. "The Fiend hate the cold, and the creatures here hate them. They'll attack them the moment they get halfway up the first mountain."

"Okay, so they're no longer our problem, but what about the barrier? From what I hear, no one can escape, so why are you taking me to it?"

"Because you asked me to."

I squint at him, my liar radar going off on every end. "First off, you're a terrible liar. Secondly, I'm not stupid. I know when someone wants something from someone else and is moving on their own agenda. I can only assume that you're taking me because you're like the Fiend in the sense that you think I can break the barrier, and if I can, you're hoping I'll do so to let you return to wherever, or whoever, you've been trying to get back to."

"I'm not-"

"Oh, please." I roll my eyes at his rather horrible start of a defense. "You know these mountains like the back of your hand. I took notice of your muscle memory laid path up here. You could probably make the trip with your eyes closed, which means that you've done it enough times to know where to step, and where the best places are for overnight stays. You know the layout of the forest enough to know the territories of every creature - which, I might add, you also know a whole ton about. Why spend so much time traveling back and forth? I get that sixty years may get boring in one place, but you've got that look in your eye that tells me that it's more than just boredom. You told me that everyone in this forest has someone they want to get back to. The Fiend are angered because they lost, the Roamers are in constant search for what they lost, and all the creatures here are trying to find a way back to the homes they once had. You're just like them. You want to get back to something, and I'm your way back. So just tell me what it is, and I'll get you there."

I watch the debate in his eyes, searching both of mine for a single lie in my last sentence. I'm not lying when I say I'll try to help him. He's been dealing with me for far longer than anyone would willingly choose to, he helped me regain my health and strength after the attacks, he saved me again when I tried to escape, and even after that he's here. Taking me to the place I wouldn't have found without him. I owe him quite a shit ton. Getting him back to whoever he wants to get back to is a good way to start, and I'm just curious as to who it is.

I'd also like to be prepared if it's his lover and they have to see him walk back home with another woman beside him. Then there's the point of having slept naked - even though we've done nothing more than sleep, the back thought would still be there. I don't want to be beaten by his loved one because of this damn clump of trees and large rock.

He shakes his head, somehow seeing falsity where I don't recall giving it. "You cannot guarantee that."

"I can." He squints at me with disbelief. "Look. You want to get out of here just as much as I do, that much is clear. In order to do so, I need to know what, exactly, it is I'm supposed to be breaking. Believe it or not, my power doesn't just do what I want it to. I have to know what it is I'm summoning and making disappear or reforming. I have to be familiar with it so that when the time comes, I don't have to do more than think a thought about it to do what I want. If you want me to break the barrier and get you home, then you need to tell me everything you know. Otherwise, this isn't going to end nicely for either of us."

We stare at each other. Me waiting for him to explain, him wondering if he can trust me or not. If anything, I need him more than he needs me, so I'm not going to kill him. Not to mention that killing him would leave me in the middle of these damn mountains without a sense of where the fuck I'm going. I need him to get me to civilization, but he needs me to get through the barrier.

I still don't think that I'm the one the prophecy is about. I mean part of it said that I would be the continuation of the Basilius line. I have too much on my plate right now to even consider having a child. Not to mention that I don't even know who these Basilius people are. For all I know they could be tyrants, and I've had my fair share of them for my lifetime.

"You're not going to tell me, are you?" I ask, reading the look in his eyes.

He watches me for a few more seconds before laying down on his side with his back to me, facing the entrance. He won't be sleeping for a few more hours. "Tomorrow, once we enter the forest."

I go to ask him just how far away the forest is, wanting to know how long I'll have to wait for more answers, but I decided against it. He tends to mean what he says, which means he'll happily ignore me, and it's not worth it to waste my breath on questions that won't be answered tonight.

I lay down myself, chewing on the last piece of the rabbit as I stare up at the cave ceiling.

If we reach the forest tomorrow, then hopefully we'll reach the border within the cycle so long as he knows the fastest way there. I can't wait to get out of this fucking snow. It's permanently settled into my clothing, which I had to use my power to get seeing as he was right when he pointed out the fact that his clothes weren't going to fit me.

I start thinking about my timeline, mapping out the things I'll need to do.

If I've done the math right, then if we can hit the border within the cycle, I'll have about a day to find the rulers of this continent and convince them to join our fight. One. Day. That's it. One day to give them all the information and have them prepare their forces to leave. Then half a day to stay and finish the preparations before we find the Bone Heart ship and mist to Astoria Cove, and then to Fernweh and Cadorelin to meet the others before the Winter's Ball begins. And we'll want to be in the capital hours before it starts so that everyone has time to make camp and get ready. Gods and their Saints know that royals love to take their precious time powdering and throwing whatever shiny things they can on themselves.

It's too bad that I won't be attending, seeing as my father thinks I'm dead. Oh, what a joy it would be to show up dressed in my fighting leathers and armor, and storm the palace. I'd give my life to see the look on his face when he realizes that he's failed all over again. Not to mention Visha's, Saint's know she's always had an unrelenting hatred towards me. Me rising from the dead would surely make her face go red with anger. Both my father's and Visha's faces are what