The Fires of Summer (first draft)

It's lukewarm, the water. Summer has taken all under its wings, spreading its heat far and wide, leaving not even a lake untouched.

To Smock, the temperature is nothing but oppressive. It surrounds him, drags him down. He feels Dawn thrashing and he unfolds his arms, releasing her into the water, whilst he sinks, weighed down by layers upon layers of clothing. It's all the same as that night he lost Ellamia, when he lost his crew and his title and the life he'd made for himself.

Before he'd become a pirate, Smock had rarely found himself at sea. Dying at sea isn't most peoples' first choice, but a rare few were left there by chance, and others simply chose to spend most of their time out on the waves. Whenever he'd come to them, he'd be startled by the rocking of a boat and the vast expanses of water in all directions. It was deep and in some places dark, and whilst the Archangel of death should certainly not be afraid of something like the sea, he'd be lying if he said it wasn't the slightest bit jarring.

In the Heavens, there were great expanses of space, but rarely deep waters. Some places had twisting terrain and huge bridges and floating islands surrounded by nothingness or mist or sometimes even stars, yet it pales in comparison to oceans, where all is left ambiguous, where you know there is something yet don't know what.

His first real encounter with the sea, when its depths took a hold of him and proved to him their incredible power, was when he fell. Cast out from the ethereal plane he'd plummeted down to the waters of Aldelis with his back covered in black blood where glorious wings once rested, now torn from him in punishment for crimes he had not committed nor would ever dream of committing. It engulfed him greedily, salt penetrating his wounds, forcing a terrible scream from his throat, his body now akin to a mortal's, sucking water in to its new lungs.

Perhaps in that moment Smock had been bound to the water forever.

He wonders, as he opens his eyes to see the surface getting further away, moonlight barely filtering through, if it's always going to be like this, if he's always going to find himself drowning.

Figuratively, he thinks with humour, and literally.

Dawn sinks beside him for a while, but she's far less willing to die here. With ferocity she kicks up, clawing at the water, until she breaches the surface. Though she's smaller than Smock, she's strong from climbing and helping her mother, and desperately she reaches down to find him under the water, grasping his arm tight, pulling with everything she can muster. He's barely moving. His clothes are waterlogged and heavy and he's making no effort to save himself. Tears well in her eyes but she fights them, knowing sobbing will only make her body weaker. She's lost enough today, she can't lose Smock too.

But beneath the water, he's accepted his fate. The bottom of this lake, he supposes, is not a bad place to drown for an eternity. The reeds will hold him like a blanket, and nothing will come to disturb him.

When he's about to close his eyes, he sees something come for him. At first it's a blur, then it becomes a face. Vision hazy and his mind stuttering, he traces their features, and he swears he can see Ellamia.

She's come for me, he smiles, to take me home.

Smock doesn't remember when he passed out, but that's the last thing he remembers before waking up on the shore of the lake, Dawn hunching over him, sobbing out what sounds like a prayer. The stars are shining bright in the sky, looking down upon him like judging eyes.

He tries to gather himself, come to his senses, but he finds himself completely disorientated, his head fuzzy and his entire body in pain, so all he manages is to open his eyes.

Dawn doesn't notice for a while, her prayers becoming incoherent and her whole body shaking. When she does, a loud sob comes from her as she throws her head against his soaked chest and wraps her arms around his body, saying, "Smock, I thought you were dead, I can't lose you too, please don't leave me, I can't do this alone."

Though he's dazed, Smock understands her entirely. He wraps his arms around her and holds her tight, no matter how overwhelmingly awful the feeling of all the waterlogged clothes is. Finally he manages to speak, "I'm here Dawn, I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

I promise. The words slip out easily, yet he can't help but feel they're a mistake. He made a promise to Darla, and now here they are. He made a promise to Max, and he died in Smock's arms. He made promises to Ellamia in his vows, and not even she was shown mercy. What use are promises when bad luck follows every single one of them?

Eventually he forces himself to push her, gently, away from him. Her eyes are puffy and red and she's trembling. Smock has never been particularly paternal, but he's fished people out of the sea many a time, so he understands what to do next. He sits up, a throbbing pain shooting through him as he does, and soldiering through the pain he takes off everything but his breeches and his shirt, setting them on the ground beside him.

When he looks around he sees he's been pulled quite a distance from the pebbly shore of the lake. He's settled on grass under the shade of trees. He figures that Dawn must be exhausted from dragging him, especially with the way she's curled into a tight ball, shaking in the grass. Up on the cliff, the church is burning bright, huge flames licking the air. Monster Apollyon is nowhere in sight. Smock guesses they thought he and Dawn would drown, and didn't think to ensure their demise.

Staring at the fire, he suddenly processes the situation they are in. More precisely, he realises that he and Dawn are now one in the same. Both of them had lost everything to the flames, plunged into dark waters, with no idea how to even begin to move forwards from it. Darla is to Dawn what Ellamia is to Smock.

The thought of Ellamia brings back the thought of Axel, and hurriedly he digs into the pockets of his overcoat, fishing out all the drenched paper. It's all smudged horribly from the water, so he lays it out on the grass, hoping that when it all dries it'll still be coherent enough to follow. There's something humorous about Axel's blurry face, but he can't find it in him to laugh, not now.

A sob comes from the girl behind him and he frowns, turning to her. Whilst he's got little experience in taking care of teenagers, he sees something of himself in her, and he knows more than anyone what she's going through. Crouching to her level, he offers the kindest smile he can muster, though in all honesty he doesn't feel too well himself, his body in agony and his promise to get Darla out alive broken. He speaks with a regular tone, "Take your cloak off, Dawn. You and it will dry easier then. Let's go get some firewood, to speed the process up, alright?"

She doesn't reply, and Smock considers leaving her there whilst he does it alone, but he's not willing to risk her being found on her own and a distraction might keep her going for just a little while without breaking down. He waits, until finally she takes a deep yet shaky breath and gets to her feet with him, taking off her red cloak. She drops it next to his clothes, shifting uncomfortably where she stands, voice hoarse when she speaks. "I don't like how it feels."

"Me neither, but we'll be drying around the fire in no time," he assures her, "and the sooner we start the better."

"Okay," she responds, her voice devoid of its usual enthusiasm.

Together they venture out into the forest. The land is absolutely rich in resources, and with an abundance of trees there is a fair share of sticks around. He stays within sight of Dawn, mindful of why they call Miria the Wolf's Woods, but for now they seem safe from any further danger. Smock is relieved at that - any more trouble and he'd have half a mind to just stroll into the bottom of the lake and go to sleep.

He finds that the more he works his body, the less the ache begins to bother him. The impact from Apollyon's first attack must have really bashed his back, which never seems to take injury well, the places where his scars sit taking pain especially poorly. He tries to keep bending his back to a minimum, though some of it is inevitable, and on occasion he finds himself out of breath from it.

Dawn finishes before him, and comes to help him, doing most of the bending down to save him the trouble. Smock can't help but admire her resolve. Even in a time like this, she is willing to take the time to go out of her way and assist someone else. Resolve like that is terribly rare in Aldelis.

When his arms are full with sticks and he can't possibly carry any more, he finds his bearings and leads Dawn back to the soon-to-be campsite. Both of them put the sticks down to the side in a pile while Smock gathers some rocks from the shore of the lake and draws with them a circle. Within it he then places some of their gathered sticks, and with no other option and no sign of sunlight, he opts to hand drill the fire.

He begins by putting down his grass. He cuts in his notch, places his bark, chooses his spindle, and gets to work.

Admittedly, he's rusty. At sea you don't really need to set fires by hand, and fire magicians are in no short supply around Riloris and Pirate Island. He tries and tries but he can't seem to get it right, and eventually Dawn reaches out for the spindle.

Smock hesitates. "It's alright, I'm just gettin used to it again-"

She simply gives him a smile before she puts the spindle to the bark and, somehow, manages to stoke the fire within less than a minute.

Confused and surprised, Smock lifts his dark eyes to hers, raising a brow.

"Klaus," Dawn says, her eyes shining with something sorrowful.

He offers a smile of understanding in return as the fire grows.

"What now?" Dawn asks after a few moments, quiet.

"We should probably dry our clothes," Smock answers, trying not to focus on the flames, pushing the burning church out of his mind. She looks at him expectantly, unsure what to do, never having been in this situation before. "I'll turn around and you can take off your clothes and dry them over the fire, if that's okay. And then I'll do the same."

She nods and stares at him, saying nothing, and he takes his cue. He turns around and watches the lake, and he remembers the face of the person under the water. When he thinks of her, Ellamia's appearance is all that comes to mind, but that can't be right. Was she just a hallucination? "Hey, Dawn? Can I ask you a question?"

"Yeah," the girl answers simply and solemnly.

"Was there someone in the lake with us?" he asks, suddenly feeling like a madman.

Dawn doesn't hesitate to answer, "There was. I think she was one of those aquatic elves - she had these webs where a person's ears would be, and gills, and dark magenta hair that she wore wild and free, and light blue skin, and green eyes, and umm... that's all I can remember."

Ellamia's hair wasn't dark magenta and she didn't usually wear her hair outside of its braid, but the rest matches to a T. It makes sense that he'd think it was her. For a moment he wonders if it could be one of her relatives, but that would make no sense - she was from a noble reef family, none of her brothers nor her parents would ever come to a lake, especially not one in Miria. Before she left, they'd been living a very comfortable life, and there's no reason that should have changed; not even the Sanguis family touches the depths of the sea. He lets out a sigh in response, and they fall into silence again.

After some time, he hears Dawn shift, and then she calls to him. "I'm done. Your turn."

Smock turns to face the campfire, then she turns away, and he undresses to his underwear, shuffling close to the fire and holding his clothes near it. The heat on his front is pleasant. It's relieving to be able to be close to flames without them burning him and eating everything around him. Now it's comfortable and kind and confined, and not a threat to him, even if sometimes he swears he can see his crew in the flames, dancing as they had on his wedding night.

His clothes dry and he puts them back on. "You can turn back around now."

Dawn turns around, then she sits for a few moments, shifting like she's not sure what to do, then she sniffles, and tears begin to fall from her face.

Confused but concerned, Smock opens his arms. "Hey, c'mere pal," and when she does, holding him tight, he rubs her back, saying, "I've got you, I promise. You're safe 'n sound."

She sobs hard into his shirt, clinging to him, unable to find her words, and he holds her, and he decides that he's going to be her parent now, because who else does she have?

At some point she pulls back and tugs his hand, pulling him to turn around, and she sits next to him, leaning against him as she cries, staring up at the flames. Smock doesn't understand why she wants to watch her home burn, but he keeps an arm around her, staring at it too, until a deep ache overcomes him, and all at once he begins to cry too. He holds them back as well as he can, not wanting to upset Dawn any further, but the tremble of his chest and the shaky breaths are unmistakeable.

Once they have both cried themselves out, they sit side-by-side in front of the fire, their backs turned to the cliff.

Dawn doesn't look up at him when she speaks. "What happened to your wife?"

The question takes Smock by surprise, and for a moment he hesitates to answer. He fiddles with his ring thoughtfully, turning it under his fingers. "On the night of our marriage, Corvus and his men attacked us out at sea. It turns out one of my crew sold us out for a space on the royal guard. They destroyed my ship with explosives and fire, and last I saw she was fighting Corvus alone. I fell through the deck before I could save her."

"That's awful," she frowns, "why would they do that?"

"I was a pirate," he finally tells her, and she lights up a little in response. It's enough to put a small smile on his face. "Corvus outlawed piracy as soon as he took the throne, and ever since I started I was one of the biggest pains in his feathered ass. Before the attack we'd stolen a load of wine from a merchant ship, the Emperor's favourite, so we were definitely not on good terms."

"That must have been so cool," Dawn responds, looking to him with tired eyes, though there's a hint of excitement in them. "Getting to do what you want and have what you want and be free, I'd love it."

Years ago he would've easily agreed, but now Smock is apprehensive. "That's certainly the allure of the sea, but it's dangerous, and when you're in a fight there's nowhere you can go."

With a thoughtful tone she says, "Do you think losing Ellamia jaded how you think of the sea?"

He pauses, taken aback by the question.

Dawn looks away. "Sorry, I didn't mean to overstep..."

"It's a good question," Smock quickly assures her, "It just shocked me is all. I... I guess it did. I can't remember thinking twice about being at sea, or thinking badly of it at all, until after I lost Ellamia."

"Is that why you froze up in the water?" Dawn asks, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her head on them.

"Sort of. Whenever I'm in the water, it's like the night I lost her is happening all over again," he tries to explain. Putting feelings into words has never been his strong suit.

She seems to get it, nodding. "That sounds hard... I think Klaus had something like that. He'd get all tense and stuff whenever he was reminded of his mom."

"Poor kid," Smock breathes. Losing his father must have pushed him over the edge.

Dawn sniffles but doesn't break into a sob this time. She doesn't say anything for a while. They must be sat there for hours, because next time Smock looks to the church the flames seem to have died down a little. With how long it lasted and with the intensity of the fire, he heavily doubts anyone else made it out. Abbey and Telfan surely died in their unconsciousness, but Klaus must have suffered before he went, alone and afraid, suffocating and burning.

Smock wonders what would've happened if he took the time to save him. Would all three of them have died, killed by Apollyon within the extra moments of recovery? Would the fire have trapped them inside of the church? Would it have started to cause destruction, tearing apart the wood and blocking their path? Would he have ran at the first chance to get away from the man that killed his father?

When he thinks about it, he supposes if Apollyon hadn't lost, Klaus would have taken his father's place, and leading such a group was not in his nature, at least as far as Smock could tell. The boy deserved far better of a future, not to be bound to some crazy religion worshipping a liar fallen angel, and certainly not to die because of it.

Seemingly thinking about angels too, Dawn speaks, "Apollyon called you a fallen Archangel. He called you Azrael."

"...It's true. Azrael was my old name, back then," he nods hesitantly. Whilst he doesn't enjoy talking about it, he figures Dawn will appreciate the openness, and knows that they're going to be together for a while yet.

"What did you do to end up falling?" she asks.

This is his least favourite part. "I didn't do anything. My big brother, Michael, the Warrior Archangel, framed me. He wanted me gone, so he pit me against a God that hates my guts, he told him I was plotting his murder. And the God bought it, and he demanded they get rid of me immediately. My Queen defended me to the end, but they were the greater authority, and so I was struck down."

"Why would your brother do that to you?" Dawn frowns, clearly perplexed.

"When I was made by the Gods, they took a piece from him to create me, because I was the Archangel of Death and it was a very important job. Michael was brilliant and perfect and radiant, the image of what an Archangel should be, so they figured using him would make me just as amazing," Smock explains, forcing his mind not to wander, lest it stumble across grim memories. "But... he hated it. He resented me for being made of him. I guess I can't really blame him, I'd hate to have a piece of me stolen."

"Me too, but I wouldn't ruin someone's life over it!" she protests.

"It's... different for Archangels," Smock frowns. He's never held Michael in contempt for it - he was well justified in his hatred, in everything he did. After all, he could never hold a candle to Michael's perfection. He was a waste of a piece of him.

"I don't know," Dawn sighs, turning her eyes elsewhere. She opts to change the subject. "Smock, what do we do next?"

Now that there's nobody on their back, he supposes they could go anywhere, really. There's just one problem - Smock hasn't got a single clue where that would be. "We need to go back to the village tomorrow, then I'll get directions to the nearest town. Then we'll go there and we can stay warm in a tavern and figure out what to do next."

"Okay," she nods, then dully sighs. "I'm really tired."

"Wrap yourself in your cloak and get some rest. Don't lay too close to the fire," he tells her, and off she goes, picking a spot and rolling herself up in her cloak. Smock frowns seeing her curly hair in the grass, so he checks his sweater is dry and comes to slip it under her head. She opens her eyes for a moment, and offers a small smile, before getting comfortable and drifting off to sleep.

Smock isn't able to drift off right away. He sits and stares into the fire, then decides to go on a short walk out to find some smelly flowers or herbs to help cover their scent a little from any animals that might be nearby. Going out to forage clears his mind a little, and he returns with a few plants, some of which he burns in the fire and others he wafts about to get their scent around. Finally, he throws some more sticks into the fire, and walks to the shore.

"Hey, if you're out there," he speaks in his regular tone, looking out upon the moonlit lake, hoping his voice is reaching its inhabitant, "then thank you for saving me. Sorry I can't give you anything in return right now, but I'll be back sometime, I promise."

For some time he stands there and waits for any signs of life, but there are none, so he goes to sit by the fire. He goes through the parchment he'd set down to dry, and at least now it's handleable, but the damage is done. He can just about make out the shapes and lines on the guard's map, and Axel's poster... well, it's seen much better days. Tucking them into his coat with a frown, Smock lays down on the adjacent side to Dawn, settling his coat on top of him as a blanket.

Though he hadn't been feeling too tired, sleep takes Smock in its arms swiftly, and he welcomes its tight hold.

Smock's dreams begin with a raven, a ship, and fire. Flames reach high into the sky, eating away at the ship, and the raven is down on the wood, frantically trying to take off. A writhing eel is in its claws, bright blue with darker stripes, but it makes no attempt to escape as they take off into the sky. The raven flies awkwardly, feathers singed and one of its wings kinked.

Behind it the flames grow further and further away, and for a while it seems they are safe, until suddenly the raven releases a shriek of pain and its wing crunches. It plummets immediately to the ocean beneath, plunging into the dark waves. It releases the eel and it wriggles away into the water, disappearing into its depths, leaving the raven there, drowning, wing too broken and feathers too waterlogged to even try to get itself to the surface.

It resigns to its fate and lets the water take it, filling its burning lungs and dragging it down.

Smock wakes up with a start, panicking when he sees the flames beside him. For a few moments he's afraid he's back on the ship, but he comes to his senses and recalls the night before, and slowly but surely the panic settles in his chest into just a dull ache. He stares at the fire for some time, low and dying, before coming to his senses. He puts some more sticks in the fire, then pokes them around with another, listening to the way they crackle with the heat as it begins to rise back up. His body is aching even worse than the day before, but it's nothing he can't handle.

When Smock looks up to the sky, he sees the sun is still relatively low, so they've got plenty of time left to get moving. Dawn is still asleep so he decides now is a good time to go out hunting, but as soon as he stands there's a splash from the lake behind him, and he whips around immediately, expecting to see some sort of danger.

Instead, he sees a large fish flopping on the shore, too far away to have beached itself, and a retreating figure under the water, slipping away before he can properly see them.

Smock grabs the dagger in his coat and heads for the fish. When he reaches it he calls out a 'thank you' to the lake elf, and slits the fish's throat, thankful that he won't have to worry about dinner. He feels bad taking from the elf with nothing in return, but he has no other choice at the moment, and he hopes that she understands that too.

The fish bleeds on the shore for a little while, its body convulsing, until it slows to a stop. He picks it up and heads back to the makeshift camp to take off its scales, familiar with the process from his many years at sea.

He can't help but wonder what inspired such kindness in the aquatic elf to not only save two strangers but catch them breakfast. Ellamia never mentioned them being especially friendly, but then again she'd been from a royal family. Perhaps others are just that much kinder.

After preparing the fish, he picks out the longest sticks he can find and carefully fashions them into a spit, setting two on opposite sides of the fire and skewering the fish on the other before setting it over the fire. Using sticks as a cooking spit is risky, but with no other materials at his disposal it's his only choice.

Dawn wakes up not long after, silently sitting up and watching the fish cook, wiping the sleep out of her eyes. "How'd you get a fish?"

"The lake elf threw it for us," he responds simply, carefully turning it over.

She doesn't respond, watching the fish drowsily, eyes half-lidded.

It takes a long time to be ready, but when it is he cuts off the head and tail and carefully slices them both as much flesh as possible, mindful of the bones though unable to quite get all of them. With the fish's size, there's quite a lot for them to get through, which he's immensely thankful for - he definitely wouldn't have been able to find something so substantial out hunting alone with just a dagger. He'd hate to make Dawn travel on an empty stomach, especially with her being so young.

They eat together and then Smock throws the remains back into the lake. He returns and puts on his sweater and coat, and Dawn dons her cloak. He looks up at the cliff, barely anything remaining of the church. "We need to go back up there and see if the horses and cart are still there. I don't fancy spending hours walking to the village and the town."

"Yeah, me neither," she nods, sounding a little brighter than she did the day before now she's woken up.

Smock picks the shortest side around the lake and together they follow the shore all the way around. The walk isn't very long, maybe ten minutes, until they're by the cliff, and with just a short walk onwards they find the path that leads up to the church, or what remains of it.

As soon as they walk up the hill, the overwhelming smell of charred wood fills the air. It's thick and the smell is awful, and very little remains of the structure than blackened wooden beams and what remains of the stained glass, and standing eerily in the same place they'd been inside, the statues with the scarred wrists. A majority of the stone has been darkened by the fire, turning them sinister, the only coherent remains of what was formerly a place of lies, sacrifice, and blood.

Dawn grasps his hand as they stare at it, trembling, and he squeezes it in comfort, guiding her away from it, to the remains of the small stable on the side.

The horses and cart are nowhere to be seen where they'd been left, but in the ground there is a recent trail left by horseshoes and wheels. He pulls Dawn along to follow the tracks down the hill, away from what's left of her former home, and along the path opposite that to the village. They find the horses just slightly off the track, grazing together with the cart still on their backs, thankfully seeming unharmed by the fire, along with the cart full of their supplies.

When he approaches at first, the horses startle a little, flaring their nostrils and uncomfortably raising their feet, but swiftly they recognise him and definitely recognise Dawn, coming swiftly for reassurance as soon as they do. Smock runs his hands along the mane of the black horse. "They must have been scared by Apollyon and the fire."

"Well at least now they know they're safe," Dawn says optimistically.

The two guide the horses back onto the main path and turn them in the direction of the village before getting onto the front seats of the cart. Going past the hill seems to spook them a little, but trusting their drivers they press onwards and settle once they're back on the familiar path to the village.

It feels a breeze this time, without the weight of returning to God's Lake on his back, though Dawn's mind seems absent the whole trip. He figures there must be a lot of memories attached to the road for her, and doesn't pry.

They arrive and Smock just about manages to steer the horses into their usual spot, thankful for their competence. He gets down with Dawn, who is raking her fingers through her curls, and reminds himself to buy her a comb: she and Darla had never gotten the chance to bring down their belongings.

He goes first to the old lady's house, knocking on her door. There's a sound of movement behind the door, the loud meow of a cat, a hushed voice, and then the lady is at the door, smiling at the familiar faces. "Hello you two, how can I help? Is it news about Darla?"

Smock looks to Dawn, then in a quiet voice responds. "Darla... we... lost her. The church burned down."

"What?" her expression changes immediately, and she takes Smock's hands in her trembling ones. "I knew those good-for-nothing malicitors would be the death of her."

Hearing her say malicitor startles him a little, but he quickly figures out that she's a witch - only fellow magic users know of terms outside of wizard and sorcerer. "Nobody else survived but me, her, and the damn angel. We're on the road now to the next town, I was hoping you could set us in the right direction."

"Of course - give me just a moment," she says, letting go of him and heading back into her house. A curious, fat tabby cat sits in the hall, staring up at him with wide eyes. Its owner soon returns with a small map, seemingly just of Miria, and a pen. She whispers an incantation and the pen moves on its own, illustrating a precise path onto the map, and a rough sketch of the village and what must be the next town. "I'm sending you on to Moosewater. It's not the closest town, but it'll be the safest one for you and Dawn - I'd hate for you to see any trouble. There's a lot of Lord Canis' guard down there, and those there are good men."

"Thank you so much," Smock nods his head, smiling to her and taking the map. It's clear and even has faint lines where the path veers off in other directions, showing an extremely precise route to Moosewater, which sits on the side of Wolf's Bay up in the north-west. A boat's ride would give them easy access to the capital, Wolf's Rest, where Lord Canis himself lives at the bottom of the mountains.

"A friend of Darla and Dawn is a friend of mine," she looks at him with a great kindness in her eyes, then turns her sights to Dawn, who stands behind him almost anxiously. "Now come here you!"

Dawn lights up a little as she walks forward into the old lady's arms, melting into the warm hug and returning it. "I'll come visit you when I can."

"Any time you want to come, just send me a letter, and I'll make sure to bake a nice batch of cookies for you, and your favourite cheese," the lady pulls away and places a kiss on Dawn's forehead, looking down at her with that same love Darla had.

"You're the best, Mrs Martha," Dawn beams.

"I know I am," the old lady laughs sweetly before retreating into her doorway. "Now be safe on your journeys you two."

"We will," Dawn and Smock both chime at the same time, and as the door closes they can't help but share a laugh. Seeing Dawn happy again is a huge relief - seeing her so downcast when she's usually so bright isn't easy.

"Alright. Last stop is the post office and then we can start on our way to Moosewater," Smock tells her, looking at the intricate map. He's heard all sorts about fellow pirates having magic maps, even seen one or two, but he's never watched one be made. Magical cartographers are so rare that he never once considered the possibility that their trade was just house magic.

"Why do they call it Moosewater? That's a funny name," Dawn asks, looking over his arms at the map.

"I'm not sure, but I guess we'll find out," he shrugs, putting it away once she's done looking.

Together they make their final visit to the post office. Smock finds a matchbox, in case they need to light another fire, and spots a pick comb for Dawn's hair, and just as he's about to go pay he spots something else on the shelves. It's simple: sketchbooks and pencils. When he was in the aether, he'd spend some of his (very little) spare time doodling, growing an affinity for it that lasted even after he fell, so getting another chance to draw would surely ease his nerves on this long journey. He takes it to the clerk, with whom he shares a warm goodbye before heading off to get back to the cart.

Dawn stays awake for longer than she has on the other trips. She watches as they head past God's Lake, following a trail she's never been on before, but once the unremarkable road becomes almost repetitive she's unable to keep herself up and she drops off. For a while everything is the same - trees overhead, a dirt path beneath, flowers and forest beyond it. Every now and then he catches a glimpse of the wildlife, a squirrel here and there or a darting deer in the foliage.

They travel through a dark section of the forest where colourful mushrooms spout up all around, and he shakes Dawn awake to show her. She wakes up and is immediately struck with wonder as they ride past huge and small shrooms alike, some clinging to trees, others growing straight from the ground. Some are in clusters, others all alone. The air has a slightly musky quality to it, somewhat intoxicating. As beautiful as the sight is, Smock speeds up a little.

Onwards they go. Past a mushroom circle in a clearing to the side, the land opens back into a regular forest.

"They say if you step into those, you'll end up in a different dimension," Smock says when he sees Dawn's eyes flicker over it.

"Why? What is it?" she asks, bright with curiosity.

"They call it a fae ring," he answers with a smile, fondly remembering tales he's heard from people claiming to have entered one, or who swear their friend's mom's cousin's friend went in once, "and they say it's a door to the fae realm, created when Empress Evelynne Sanguis came to Aldelis."

"Was she one of the fae?" Dawn looks at him, intrigued. She likely wouldn't have heard anything about the Empress, being only fifteen and having no access to history: Evelynne died two-hundred-and-nineteen years ago, after all.

"Some people think the fae rings and her beauty were evidence that she was, but others say that nobody can kill the fae so she couldn't have been," he answers. Personally, he has no doubt the fae can be killed - if an angel or a God can be, why can't they? Alas, the mystery of their realm, and their presence in Aldelis being ambiguous, leaves everything mere speculation.

"Wow," she breathes, wonder in her tone, "I can't wait to actually get to know everything... But where do I even start?"

"Well there's books that can get you started with it. They're called history books - I'll get you some in the town, alright?" Smock says warmly.

"Thank you so much!" Dawn leans against his shoulder in appreciation and excitement. She clenches her fists like she's about to burst with energy, nowhere to exert it. "Brother Klaus used to tell me stories his dad told him about the world, but he always said he didn't fully believe them."

"If they sheltered you so much you don't know what a history book is, I wouldn't count on their stories either," he shrugs half-humorously. Swiftly he figures that history would be dangerous to a group like that, no doubt poking holes in what Apollyon must have told them, and even further he understands that isolating followers from the world as much as possible must have given Blight immense control.

"Well now I'll get to see if any of it was true," Dawn doesn't slip into melancholy this time, seemingly elated with wonder.

"You sure will," he smiles. Birds chirp overhead, singing bright songs.

"My mama," she continues almost immediately afterwards, "always told me that one day she'd teach me all about the world, and what's happened in it."

Smock hesitates for a moment, then looks to her. "I know it's not the same, but I can tell you a bit about it, if you like."

"Really?" Dawn stares with curiosity, eyes wide.

"Sure," he chuckles, returning his eyes to the road. Being an Archangel, he's been around almost since the beginning of Aldelis, though being the last to be made of his siblings meant he missed out on all that they'd seen. The eldest of his siblings, Lucifer, who he knows next to nothing about, was even created long before Aldelis was. Often he's wondered what knowledge Lucifer has, how supremely powerful he must be, but... he fell a long time ago, and nobody has heard of him since. When Dawn doesn't respond further, he starts, "At the beginning of Aldelis, it was an empty land, with few people and creatures. One of those people was Regus Sanguis, the very first person to set foot on it, He took control where there was none, beginning to build upon Aldelis as it grew in population and greatness. He was a hero to the people, so much so that they eventually chose him to be their ruler.

"From there he established Gore, the great capital of Aldelis where the Sanguis palace is, and he became the Emperor. With his incredible science and power he was able to advance the people and their knowledge, and establish all sorts of settlements. Some time later, he meets Evelynne, who he marries and has, uhh..." he trails off, desperately trying to remember the number in his head, "Gods, twenty-three children? Well, he has a lot of children with her, and they live just fine. Aldelis keeps growing and growing. Things are looking great for Aldelis and its people.

"But soon, Empress Evelynne dies mysteriously. For a while, things are normal, and Lazuli Sanguis becomes Queen and establishes the regions of Gore, Miria, Treokyrin, Athorea, and Riloris, and appoints them all governors.

"Suddenly, Corvus Sanguis, the eldest Sanguis son, declares war on Lazuli, and the entirety of Aldelis is plunged into warfare. It lasts a miserable ten years until Corvus wins and banishes Lazuli, taking the throne as King. The world took an... unfortunate turn from here. It kept getting worse, with Corvus outruling all sorts of things. He got married to the mysterious Avalia, who is the only dark elf to ever walk upon Aldelis, and they had seven children. The seventh, though, was outcast from the family, and seven years after his birth Avalia died in an unexplained accident and, supposedly, so did another one of their children, Kit.

"Every seven years, something strange happens in Aldelis. It started with strange weather, then it started to become more severe, then animals began to change and new ones appeared, and quite recently a new disease started to spread, and there's much more - the point is, the world started to become more dangerous, and there was seemingly nothing anyone could do about it.

"And now here we are. It's coming up to a seventh year, and everyone is dreading the outcome. Understandably so, if you ask me," Smock sighs. "Since I've been on Aldelis, I've come to understand the fear of it. Not like you can exactly look forward to finding out what new horror is gonna wipe across the land. But everyone gets through it. We're still here, and people are still happy - guess you kinda get used to it."

"Wow, that's a lot," Dawn says, sounding shocked. After a while, she purses her lips thoughtfully. "Where did Aldelis come from, and why did Corvus wage war on his sister, and how did he win if she was the Queen?"

"Nobody knows where Aldelis came from," he answers, "and we don't really know why Corvus declared war either, other than that he just must not have liked Lazuli. As for how he won, a surprising amount of men took up arms for him," Smock highly disagrees with those that did, "and there's rumours that he even called for the help of some sort of God. I just think he was a lucky bastard."

"I barely know anything about Corvus and I already don't like the sound of him," she huffs.

"You shouldn't," he chuckles.

Onwards they follow the lush green trees and flower-lined paths, uneventful hours passing by slowly. Birdsong and the rhythmic gait of the horses accompanies the sound of the breeze rustling the leaves. In the distance the famed wolves of the Wolf's Wood howl, but judging by the sound they're too far away to be any cause for concern.

"Sometimes we'd hear the wolves howl out from God's Lake," Dawn comments, staring into the distance wistfully.

Being out at sea for so long, the most Smock had ever heard overnight was the sound of the sea and maybe a whale coming up to the surface for a few moments. On a rare occasion he'd hear what sounded like some underwater beast, or the roar of what must have been a dragon, and on those nights he'd stumble up onto deck and look out, trying to spot some glorious creature out there.

Here everything is full of life, even in the night. Forests are, of course, teeming with all kinds of wolves and coyotes and bugs and birds. When the wind comes through, the bushes and trees shake, filling the air with their noise. Travelling through it earns you the tap of your boots on a dirt or cobbled road. He's not sure, when he thinks about it, if he could ever get used to the constant and ever-changing noise, or how just about any creature no matter how big or small could invade on his safety.

He wonders what it would've been like if he and his crew had been a gang of outlaws hiding out in the woods. One thing the land has that the ocean doesn't is escape routes all around. If they were attacked, all they had to do was get an opening to dart out and run, scatter out and force their opponents to do the same, all until they'd picked off the enemy or lost them. Maybe, he thinks grimly, they'd have all lived if it was like that.

But the more he thinks about it, the more he understands it's not so simple. Being on land hadn't saved Darla or Klaus, or any of the others, had it? They'd still been condemned to a fiery fate all the same.

Or maybe all this time he's been reaching for conclusions to put the blame anywhere else but on himself.

Smock's eyes follow the side of the road. He's got no way to run his hands through the horse's mane, so this time he opts to mess with the hem of his sweater. The material is enough to keep him occupied, forcing his uncomfortable thoughts to a stop before they begin to overwhelm him.

To distract himself, he runs through a plan for when they arrive at Moosewater. Of course, their first problem is going to be finding somewhere to stay, and somewhere cheap too. His first choice, if available, will be to find someone willing to let them stay in return for work instead of money. Then, he'll have plenty of time to consider his next move. He knows Axel used to be a father and husband, so he's sure bringing her along to meet him won't be a problem, and from there... well, they'd just have to see how things go.

The thought of adventuring with Dawn is both exciting and terrifying. Of course, it opens up the chances of him losing her, and he doesn't want to even imagine what the pain of losing a daughter - because truly, Dawn has become his daughter - is like. But he knows she'd adore an adventure, and there's not really anywhere else that she can go.

When he looks back to the road, he sees the trees opening up a little, just enough to see that beyond them there appears to be two short towers, a bridge between them creating an archway and what he assumes to be an entrance. A wall spreads out from either side of the towers, however they slope down into the ground. It's not exactly practical, but it does look pretty. Pink flowered vines cling to the stone like decorations, and as he gets closer he can see the 'Moosewater' carved into the side of the bridge for all travellers to see.

Dawn beams at the sight of the town. He figures that she's never seen anything quite like it, and makes the horses slow to allow her to fully take it in. From here they can see the buildings within the town on the sides of the paths, the tops of some of them poking up behind the walls, and there are people outside, going about their regular business: decently-dressed, happy-looking people with normal, peaceful lives. Much to Smock's relief, the guards posted are not wearing the Sanguis crest, but instead the crest of Lord Canis. Whilst Canis is a Sanguis, his own personal guard will not have major communications with the Sanguis guards, and therefore he should be safe, at least for a while. For the first time in a while, Smock feels as though he can take a break from everything.

Finally, they've found a haven.