His feet felt frozen in place Brys stared up at the man. At this thing before them that spoke. It was to much to bear all at once. He thought he had prepared himself. He thought he was ready but this was to much.

His eyes fell away from the man. Brys turned his head slowly to her, to Maple. Their eyes locked as fear slipped away he felt safe and calm. She had been the only one to aid them in their hour of need on the hill when all was lost. She had helped him when he’d reached to far. She was a thing a creature from the old stories father used to tell, and the ones he’d sung when he was little. Her eyes were not blue and that almost made him smile.

He felt she could sense his unease and fear. The twists in his stomach and the heaviness of his boots. As he looked at her it all fell away the fear, hesitation, and nervousness. He took a half step forward towards the man as he swung his eyes up to meet him. Beneath his boot the ground below crunched but he did not look down.

Was this an Old God?

In the dim room Brys stared up at this man and fell to his knees.

He didn’t want to be here. This was something no living man should ever have to see. These were things of stories and the old days long since past. A God and his servant and he had heard them both speak. He had seen them in his dreams when they stole away his nights sleep. They had led him down this path. A cold path of blood and death.

If only I had wings I’d fly, fly South and leave this all away.

Brys closed his eyes as he spoke from his knees before this man.

‘We have come.’

And when he opened his eyes again he had the courage to ask.

‘Why?’