The Pulver Chronicles – 48. Can’t Help But Wonder Where I’m Bound

The sun was present most days during the first part of the journey, though the temperature remained in the low averages for the fall. Said journey was uneventful, which Jackson partly regretted: something happening would have snapped him out of the nostalgia he felt whenever they came across a familiar place, such as when the Broken Teeth were spotted in the horizon. He wasn’t the only one to fall prey to that emotion either. Several members of his group also gave the places they went through one last nostalgic look. At one point, the group passed by the ruins of a village sacked and burned by the Hexacracy, and some of the Humans asked to make a stop as they gave one last prayer to their former home. One of them, an artist, even drew what the village used to look like from memory, and stored it in a wooden box inside one of the houses.

“So that the memory of this village does not leave this world,” the artist said.

Another thing Jackson regretted throughout the trip was the lack of privacy, especially at night. Only a small number of huts were built due to time constraints, meaning each would contain twelve or so people overnight. Some Hellhounds didn’t seem bothered by the company -especially given that most were their tribemates-, and continued to enjoy their nightly activities almost every night.

Throughout the journey, Jackson, Alizana, and Sathariel did their best to keep their group in high spirits. It was difficult to gauge everyone’s morale, as many appeared to put on a brave front, especially those with children. But it was a safe bet that this Second Exodus was a difficult situation for many of them. Abandoning one’s home was already quite a trial, but in addition to that, they had to contend with facing the unknown: moving to a world they knew almost nothing about. Jackson tried to alleviate the latter by telling stories of his world most nights, and singing some songs he knew from there. 

In addition, he took to giving English lessons to everyone, something he had begun to do weeks before. Alizana and Sathariel were the fastest learners, being already quite familiar with Jackson and his unusual way of speaking. While they wouldn’t be at all fluent by the time they arrived, they would possess sufficient basics for a simple dialogue. Sathariel’s former spies proved also quite good at picking up a new language, their profession having given them a sharp mind and good learning skills; in fact, two of them decided they would teach in turn, as soon as they had the proper level for it. For most of the people, however, it would take months before they could hold their own in a conversation.

Predictably, Jackson continued to receive numerous questions concerning his world. He answered to the best of his ability, but had to admit his ignorance on a variety of subjects. Some of his answers inspired amazement -especially those concerning technology-, some confusion -notably about the political system, representative democracy seemed a hard concept to grasp, or perhaps he didn’t explain it well enough-, and some just made people concerned. In that last category were the questions pertaining to their future situation. Where would they live? How would they live? As to that, Jackson had to admit he wasn’t sure. He had some ideas about how they would basically live the same way they had lived in this world: somewhere deep in the woods, away from society. It was doable, and it would mean keeping their people out of sight. Indeed, Byron had suggested that they should try to keep their existence hidden for a little while, especially the Hellhounds: strange, gigantic lupine creatures appearing out of nowhere would certainly attract unwanted attention.

Alizana had some issues with that suggestion, though she only brought them up in private. 

“Why travel to a new world if we won’t be any more accepted than we are here?” she had asked.

“It’s not like that, Liz,” Jackson had explained. “This will just be for a start. Look, there are all kinds of Humanoids on Earth: Lizardfolk, Kobolds, Birdfolk… They’re all pretty much part of society, and have been for a while now. Hell, you see mixed unions everywhere. I’m not gonna tell you there aren’t any issues, but for the most part, they’re accepted. And your people will be too. It’s just that if we seem like we popped out of nowhere, people are gonna ask questions. I mean, imagine if folks learn about how we came from a different world. Imagine if the government hears about that.”

“You’re saying it’s magic they would distrust, not us.”

“I mean… Yeah. As far as the people from my world know, magic doesn’t exist.”

The thought also came to Jackson that some of the most religious folk, especially in America, might take exception to creatures with “Hell” in their name. Bah, fuck them, he then thought. They’ll probably be too busy yelling at people saying bad words on TV anyway. 

Alizana appeared satisfied with the explanation, and went on to ask about the forests of Earth.

Jackson and Alizana’s group arrived at the bottom of the Western Mountains after twenty-three days of travel, the eleventh or so group to do so. The beginning of the second part of the journey had to be delayed by two days, as the last group arrived late, having had to gather more food before continuing. This time was used by the scouts to do a little reconnaissance, and by Sathariel to obtain a recent map of the mountains from a local village of sheep herders, who regularly went up the mountains for grazing. “Recent” was not the exact word: they had been made a few years before the Second Southern War.

“Well, that should be fine,” Jackson said. “I doubt the mountains have changed in the last decade.”

“The paths might have,” Sathariel said. “There could have been a landslide somewhere. We’ll have to send the scouts ahead.”

The most important factor in the second part of the journey was not the geography, however, but the timing. It was now well into the fall, and it was of the utmost importance that everyone had made it to Azazel’s fief before winter. The cold season was notoriously terrible in the Western Mountains, with freezing temperatures, heavy snowing, and strong winds; avalanches were not uncommon. On top of that, villages and settlements were rare and widespread. Simply put, being caught by the winter might very well be a death sentence for much, if not all of the party. The journey had been planned to account for that, but it would have to suffer as few delays as possible. Many also prayed that winter wouldn’t come early this year.

The morning after the twenty-fifth group rejoined the rest, everyone had a solid breakfast, and began their trek through the mountains. The landscape was a stark contrast to the South. No flat plains or hilly terrains here, all were mounts and valleys. The temperature also dropped as they got higher, barely reaching the low fifties during the day and further down during the night. The vegetation was also sensibly different, at least according to some of Jackson’s tribemates, who used to grow crops in Vertrisia and now served as gatherers. The fauna too differed from what they were used to back in their woods. There were no boars or elks in the mountains, but there were quite a few wild goats, some aurochs, and even wolves. The latter were only heard howling from a distance. For fun, some Hellhounds tried howling back at them -the same way Humans would try to mimic monkeys at the zoo-, but it only caused the wolves to run away. Another group reported seeing what they were certain was a bear in the distance, apparently filling its stomach before going into hibernation.

The fauna was quite abundant in this region as well, and hunters had no shortage of work. The decreasing temperatures also meant the meat would keep for longer.

Overall, the first days travelling through the mountains went quite well, and morale was high. This unfortunately took a turn on the eleventh day, as the weather grew worse. The skies turned grey and heavy with clouds, and soon it began raining. It was not like the rains Alizana, Jackson, and their people had experienced back in Vertrisia. This rain was terribly cold, and could freeze an unprotected person to the bone in a matter of minutes. The wind didn’t help. There were enough coats, capes, and oilskins for everyone in Alizana’s group, but only just. Some other groups weren’t as fortunate, and a few people got sick. The main problem, however, was that the journey had to slow down, with the terrain becoming soaked and, in places, unstable. At one point, the scouts advised to use a different path, as continuing along the current one might cause a landslide. While this was judged necessary, it meant the trek would take one or two days more.

After eight days, the daily, pouring rains went back to just the occasional drizzle. The winds didn’t go down, however, unlike the temperature which was now in the forties. Even Hellhounds and all their fur had to spend their days clad in heavy clothing. Fires had to be lit under the huts every night to keep people warm. One of the groups, which had lagged behind, took advantage of the fact that the ground was dry again to try and pick up the pace. Something happened -it wasn’t clear exactly what-, and a small portion of the hillside path they were on collapsed, causing the death of a Hellhound and of the horse she was leading, and forcing the rest of the group to use a different route. This only furthered their delay, to the point where everyone else would have to wait almost two days for them to catch up. Two chieftains, Ratja of the Maja tribe and Lani of the Rini tribe, suggested moving on without them.

“We’ll just have to meet with them at the Occultatum,” Ratja said. “We can’t risk getting trapped by the winter.”

“And what if something happens to them on the way?” another chieftain retorted. “What if they need help?”

“Helping them may well mean putting someone else in danger,” Lani said.

“We do not leave any of our people behind,” Alizana said with authority. “Not when we can help it.”

And that was that. Everyone settled in a series of caves in the mountainside, which protected them from the rain and the wind for two days until the last group joined them.

In an ironic twist of fate, four days after this conversation, the Rini tribe ended up needing another tribe’s help, as one of their carts lost its wheel, and they had already used all of their spares. The Tulu tribe quickly came to assist them, but this still meant that half a day was lost.

Other incidents happened along the way, and soon they were a week late from schedule. Alizana and the chieftains were concerned as well, but didn’t want to risk a forced march to make up for lost time. A few people had already been weakened or gotten sick from the cold, to push them further might well be the death of them; in fact, sickness and the cold had already claimed a few lives. To make matters worse, the map acquired at the sheep herders’ village was becoming less and less useful. They were now well into Hexacrat territory, and it was clear none of the herders had ever made it this far. This meant the scouts often had to be sent far ahead, while the rest waited until it was confirmed that the paths indicated on the map were still good. They were, though days of rain had made them more difficult.

All of these delays had Jackson grinding his teeth. The temperature kept decreasing, until one morning, Jackson woke up to find frost covering the patches of grass and frozen puddles of water. He sighed wearily. It seemed that this was going to be an early winter after all.

The effects of the cold were perhaps most damaging to the minds than to the bodies. Morale had dropped along with the degrees, compounded by the delays and the losses. Food became an issue as well: they had packed extra in case the journey took longer than planned, but not much extra. In addition, with winter around the corner, the fauna was getting scarce, and more and more hunters came back empty-handed.

Worry could be seen in many of the men and women’s eyes, and heard in their conversations. Jackson even heard an Orc questioning whether they would make it at all. He didn’t think much of it at the time, thinking the man was just venting. But then, a couple of days later, a dispute broke out between several members of his group. Eight people, including the Orc, wanted to turn around and go back to the South, insisting that continuing further north would be the death of them all.

“Winter is almost upon us!” the Orc shouted. “When the snow starts to drop, we’ll be trapped in these mountains!”

“Calm down, Thanral!” a Human said.

“He’s right,” another Human said. “We should turn back and get back in the South while we still can. All this traveling to a different world was madness from the start anyway!”

“Absolutely not!” a Hellhound retorted. “We’ve come too far.”

Both sides continued shouting at each other. Alizana and Jackson intervened to break them up seconds before things turned violent.

“Look, everybody’s tense, I get that,” Jackson said. “But we can’t turn back, not when we’re so close to the Occultatum. We’re only ten, maybe twelve days away from our destination. If you turn back now, it would take you at least three weeks to get out of the mountains. Winter is sure to catch you then. Not to mention, we don’t have three weeks worth of food.”

“Think of the people we have lost along the way, Thanral,” Alizana said. “If we give up, then they have died for nothing.”

The last point made an impression on some of Thanral’s supporters, but Thanral himself seemed more swayed by Jackson’s pragmatic argument. The Orc still insisted that some should be allowed to turn back if they wished to, but it was made clear to him that they would have to do that with their own food, as none would be given to them, and neither would any horse or cart. That seemed to settle things. 

The next night, however, Jackson was abruptly awakened by more shouting. This time, an actual fight had broken out. As it turned out, Thanral and a Human named Lenn had tried to steal some food from the carts, presumably planning to leave the group to try and go back to the South. They had been caught in the act by a Hellhound, Rena, who had left the hut to relieve herself, and tried to run, but Rena had quickly caught on to them. 

Jackson, Sathariel, and a few other people got out of the hut to end the fight. Said fight was very one-sided, with Rena having knocked out one of the thieves and keeping the other one -Lenn- pinned down. She was actually giving the second one a terrible beating, punching him again and again, screaming curses at him all the while. So enraged she was, it took the combined strengths of Jackson, Sathariel, and Alizana to get her off the thief.

“Bastards!” she kept screaming. “Clouts! You would have let us starve!”

It took some time to restrain her, while others took care of the thieves. Thanral had a broken nose, and one of his teeth had been lost, but other than that he would be fine. The same could not be said of his accomplice, whose face was now little more than a black and blue mess. His breath was raspy, and blood was filling his mouth, choking him and making him cough.

“He’s not going to make it,” one of his carers said.

“Good, let him die,” Rena spat out. “Food is running short, and they try to rob us!”

“That’s enough!” Alizana said.

Unfortunately, there was little that could be done for Lenn. Maybe half an hour later, his breathing stopped and his eyes dimmed. Byron guessed Rena had caused him a head trauma and most likely a lot of internal bleeding.

“You killed him,” Jackson said to Rena.

“It wasn’t my intention,” she replied, her voice lacking any concern. “And he was trying to steal our food anyway.”

Jackson took a deep breath and massaged his temples. Oh, for fuck’s sake… He knew the food situation was getting difficult, and he knew it was having an impact on his people, but he didn’t realize it had gotten to that point.

“What do we do with the other one?” another Hellhound asked.

“Ban him,” an Elf said. “He wanted to leave anyway.”

“Banning him here and now is essentially giving him a death sentence,” Sathariel said, gesturing to their surroundings, much of which was covered in frost.

“A death sentence is what he would have given us if he had made away with our food,” Rena said. “Ban him! One less mouth to feed.”

Sathariel and Alizana kept arguing in Thanral’s defence, but it was soon clear that the vast majority of the group wanted him gone. The Hellhounds seemed particularly hostile to him. The Orc stood up, his legs shaking beneath him, pinching the nostril that was still bleeding.

“I’ll leave,” he said quietly.

“Good riddance,” someone said.

“You don’t have to,” Sathariel said.

“No, it is better that way. For everyone.”

He leaned down next to his dead accomplice, and spoke a few words under his breath, his forehead wrinkled with chagrin. Gathering his belongings, which were just enough to fill a haversack, he left the group without a word, heading west. Jackson just watched him leave, his whole body feeling numb, and not just from the cold. He went to his cot, but didn’t manage to get much sleep through the rest of the night. The thief’s body was placed, not dumped, in a nearby depression. His winter coat and his hat were recovered, as well as the knife he carried, but Alizana forbade taking anything else.

The next day, the trek resumed, as if last night’s interlude had never happened. No one discussed it, no one even mentioned it. In the afternoon, terrible winds began blowing in the valley they were crossing, so cold they felt to Jackson like a punch to the guts -and he had some experience with those. In fact, his ribs, the ones the Archcommander had broken, seemed to scream in his chest every time a cold gust seized him there. It was so bad the weakest and oldest members of the group were allowed to wear two extra layers, using the pelts the hunters had gathered through the trek. Jackson himself took to wearing two pairs of socks, even though it made his boots feel too small, as well as two shirts. Three people had fallen ill by the next morning, one of them so gravely she could no longer walk, and had to be placed on a cart for the day.

Three days after the food theft incident, Jackson’s group woke to find snow covering the land. The heavy clouds overhead left little doubt that more would be falling soon, and indeed flakes started dropping soon after they departed. The progression became slower and more arduous. The winds were still blowing, though luckily with much less strength than the previous days.

As they made their way through the increasingly thicker layer of snow, Jackson glanced at the cart close to him, and saw that it was almost empty. He and Sathariel made a quick, discreet check of their provisions during the midday lunch.

“This is not good,” Jackson muttered, rubbing his hand’s scar. “How long until we get to the Occultatum?”

“According to the scouts, five days,” Sathariel said. “A week, if the weather gets worse. Which… Well, it just might.”

“We have about three days left of food.”

Sathariel gnawed on his lip. “Yeah… Unless our hunters find a whole herd of goats, we’re going to have to ration the food.”

“Ah shit. Rationing the food intake of Hellhounds… Sounds like herding cats, only much worse.”

He wasn’t wrong. The mere announcement that portions would be reduced was met with evident frustration and even some anger. There were few actual protests, however, as everyone realized the food situation was getting bad. All agreed to control how much they ate, and to only eat two meals a day. The woman who was too ill to move was exempted from that new rule, out of fear that hunger would worsen her condition, and one of her friends agreed to give her her third meal. 

To compensate for the lack of food, many took to drinking more water, hoping to sate their hunger. Some took to eating the snow, but found that it didn’t hydrate them much; Byron explained that snow was actually mostly air, and suggested through Jackson that they melted it in recipients instead of eating it directly. Sathariel managed to find and brew some stonecress, which he then served in hot water. This idea was very much appreciated, as not only it would help fill everyone’s stomachs, it brought some much needed warmth to the people.

Still, the effects of hunger appeared by the third day of rationing, compounded by that of the cold. It affected the moods first, especially the Hellhounds’ as Jackson had predicted. People became both less energetic and more irritable. The conversations among the group became rarer and shorter, their tone curter. Hellhounds in particular grew meaner, and several arguments broke out through the days, usually over trivial matters. Jackson himself noticed how he often grew impatient for little reason when he interacted with Sathariel. The Demon, as to him, seemed to remain stoic through it all.

“This is not my first experience with hunger,” he simply explained.

Despite the dire circumstances, Jackson couldn’t help but notice the beauty of the land they traveled. The mountains, now permanently covered in snow, were quite a sight, especially during the rare moments when the sun would appear through the clouds; the whole world seemed to shine under its light. The scouts reported finding a lot of caves along the mountainside. After a little exploration, it was discovered that many had been artificially expanded, and led to long tunnels that were speculated to be connected to a complex underground network. Though they were empty, a few signs that the caves were formerly inhabited were found in those tunnels: small handmade objects, paintings, and even some characters carved on the walls -evidently some unknown writing system. Jackson asked who could have lived here, but no one had any idea. This part of the Western Mountains was very remote, and almost completely disconnected from the rest of Varda.

The caves served as useful refuges at nights, being large enough to house several groups each. Additionally, mushrooms were found growing there, as well as some moss that could be eaten in a stew; it wasn’t much, but it meant they could have more substantial meals, maybe last a couple of days more with good rationing. Some people, however, found the caves to be creepy -Jackson included. The idea that some unknown people used to live there, before disappearing for some mysterious reason, did things to the imagination. Especially since said disappearance seemed to have happened not so long ago, perhaps a century at the most. Some talked about this in the evenings, around the fire, speculating about who these people were and what had happened to them. The most plausible theory was that those cave people were natives who ended up being chased away or killed by settlers from the Hexacracy. Something similar was known to have happened in other parts of the Hexacracy, like in the northwestern part of the Coppertop Plains, near the jungles, where the local inhabitants -supposedly, some gorilla-men- were massacred or forced into exile to create more farmlands. 

But others suggested the reason for the cave people’s disappearance had more to do with their proximity with the Occultatum, and its Archmage. Many had heard rumors, strange stories about forbidden forms of magic being experimented there. Maybe one terrible spell caused an accident, causing the cave people to disappear.

Jackson had his own theory on the subject, but he kept it to himself. He remembered the story Azazel had told him, concerning the Cambions’ origins. It seemed possible to him that the people who would become these creatures once populated these caves.

“That’s entirely possible,” Byron commented, appearing away from the fire around which everyone had gathered for dinner, staring down the dark tunnel. “Hopefully, our own voyage back to Earth will be met with more success than their own attempts to travel to other worlds.”

The young man said nothing, and focused on his meal -fried mushrooms and goat meat-, not looking up from his plate until Byron was gone again. He felt the veteran shooting him a few curious looks, but didn’t meet his gaze.

The first night in the cave went rather peacefully, although it had taken Jackson a couple of hours before he could ignore the creepy feeling those caves induced in him and go to sleep. The second night was interrupted some time after dusk by the Hellhounds who stood watch, who woke everybody with their shouts of alarm.

“What’s going on? An attack?” Alizana said.

She could barely be heard over all the noise coming from outside the cave. Winds were blowing again, so strong they were carrying snow well inside the cave. Some was already being deposited on the group’s possessions, including their cots and their food. The animals, attached near the entrance, were neighing and braying, as the cold material was starting to coat them.

“Damnit, we need to move our camp deeper in before we get covered in snow!” Alizana said.

Everyone was still quite tired, but the cold proved an effective way to wake up and get the adrenaline kicking. They moved their entire camp some hundred feet further into the tunnel. It was so dark even the Hellhounds and their night vision couldn’t see much. Thankfully, while the group lacked many things, torches and lanterns were not one of them -not yet, at least. Going back to sleep after that was difficult, especially as a concern grew among the group. There was a veritable snowstorm happening out there, and many worried it wouldn’t let up the next day in the morning. What would they do then? Traveling through a snowstorm, especially in a strange land with no accurate map, was essentially a death warrant, but waiting another day would make their food situation even worse, especially since there was no guarantee that the storm would abate the day after.

That debate became moot when the storm grew stronger moments before dawn, triggering a small avalanche that blocked their cave’s entrance. Worry turned to panic as everyone attempted to dig their way out. Tezrian joined them, and it turned out she had more power with fire than simply reading through it: she could also command it to a degree. With her help, the entrance was reopened within half an hour. Unfortunately, the snowstorm was still raging outside; visibility was so limited it wasn’t clear whether the sun had risen yet.

“No way we can travel through that,” Jackson said. “Guess we’ll have to sit this one out.”

“I don’t think we can afford that,” Sathariel said. “The storm is only getting stronger. It could last another couple of days at least. Even if we pick the cave clean -which we almost have-, food won’t last that long.”

“Yeah, well, the alternative is marching through this, and that’ll kill us much faster than starvation, won’t it?!” Jackson snapped back, turning a few heads.

“All right, all right,” the Demon said with a gesture of appeasement.

Ah, shit. Jackson pinched his nose and took a deep breath. His mood swings were getting worse every day. The fact that he was tired in addition to being hungry and cold did his behavior no favors.

“I’m sorry, buddy,” he mumbled.

“I get it, it’s okay.” 

Sathariel hummed, scratching his nascent beard -he had decided to let his facial hair grow to help against the cold, as had Jackson.

“We’re only a few days away from the Occultatum,” Jackson said. “I think we can make it, but at the same time it’s so goddamn frustrating that we have to stop now.”

 “What if…” His friend hummed some more. “What if we used the tunnels?”

“Use them how?”

“Well, to travel. The scouts say those tunnels go pretty far. Maybe they don’t go all the way to the Occultatum, but they may get us closer to there, at least.”

“We have no idea where they go. They could just as well lead us the wrong way, and make us lose a few days. This isn’t like the Broken Teeth. At least back there we had some idea where we were going.”

“True, but… I mean, if we’re going to be stuck there for a while, we might as well do something about it.”

“I guess…”

Alizana agreed as well, and a few hours later, the scouts began preparing to venture further in the dark tunnels. Jackson asked Tezrian if she could use her scrying to help them, like she had back at the Broken Teeth.

“I sense no fire out there that could lead us to the Occultatum,” she said. “Azazel is hiding her presence.”

“Yeah… Guess I should have seen that coming,” Jackson said. “Have you tried contacting her directly?”

“I have, but… I’m not quite sure she heard me at all, in fact. Using my fire for communication is something I don’t usually do.”

“How about sensing something else? Like, some village near the Occultatum?”

“I cannot sense anything at all in the vicinity.”

“Seriously? There’s bound to be a fire somewhere, especially in this weather.”

“My vision is obstructed.”

“What, everywhere? Azazel is that powerful?”

“No… It’s not just her. There is something here, in these caves. Some strange magic that is preventing me from scrying.”

Great, just when I thought these caves couldn’t be any creepier.

“What kind of strange magic?” Sathariel asked, joining the conversation.

“I’m not sure. Something very unusual. Something… that doesn’t seem to belong. I don’t know how to describe it.” She frowned. “Yet, it’s a magic I feel… familiar with. I think I sensed it before.”

“Where?”

“In the House of the Living Flame.”

Jackson clenched his teeth. Cambions, he immediately thought. It has to be them, right? What if…

“Is this magic, like, recent?” he asked Tezrian. “Can you sense that?”

“Rather recent, I’d say. I can sense alterations having been done… a few days ago, at a guess.”

So they might still be around. Hell, they might have been watching us sleep the other night. He immediately discarded that particular notion, believing exploring it further would be antithetical to his ability to get any rest later the following night. But this gave him an idea. He could tell Byron had the same one.

“Tell the scouts to wait,” he told Sathariel. “I’m gonna go down these tunnels.”

“What? Why?”

“There’s something I’d like to try.”

“Well, you’re not going alone. I’m coming with you.”

He picked up his saddlebag, as well as a lantern, then asked to borrow Jackson’s lighter.

“We won’t need lanterns. It’d be better if we didn’t use any.”

Sathariel looked at him like he was crazy. “You want to go down these tunnels without a light? What if you fall in a hole and break your neck?”

“It’s important.”

“Well, let’s bring Liz with us then. She’ll help us not bang our heads against the walls, at least.”

They went to speak with Alizana, who was just as skeptical of this idea.

“You want to roam around in those tunnels, without any light?” she said. “What exactly is your plan, aside from breaking a few of your bones?”

The lack of food was definitely getting to her, judging by her curtness.

“I think there are Cambions living down there,” Jackson explained. “If we can contact them, they should be able to lead us through these tunnels, maybe all the way to the Occultatum. And we have to make as little light as possible; from what I know, they don’t like it much. I’m guessing those who live down here like it even less.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“About whether we can trust them to lead us there? Yeah, pretty much. They work for Azazel.”

“Okay, but are you sure we can find them? The scouts say these tunnels go on for miles; it could be days before you meet with one.”

“Maybe. We’ve gotta try, though. It’s either that or staying stuck here until the food runs out.”

Sathariel and Alizana agreed Jackson’s idea was indeed better than doing nothing -a low bar to clear, but Jackson could live with that. Still, Sathariel insisted on some organization, fearing they could get lost. Jackson suggested leaving a trail of pebbles behind them, but Alizana thought it better to adapt the system the scouts used to use in Vertrisia, consisting of markings -usually made with a piece of chalk, or occasionally with claws. That way, not only would they be able to find their way back, but the scouts would be able to track them if they didn’t make it back by the evening. Jackson agreed, but on the condition that they didn’t harm the cave paintings in any way.

“Don’t want to get cursed again,” he said.

He also agreed to let Sathariel light his lantern, on the condition that he used as little oil as possible, just enough to ensure Alizana could see something. They ate a quick breakfast consisting entirely of moss stew, packed some water, and entered one of the tunnels. Alizana was leading them, her night vision, limited as it was, offering her more visibility than Jackson and Sathariel’s eyesight; she could just about see the walls, and distinguish the cave paintings, though she couldn’t see the latter in detail. They decided to follow these paintings, going down the corridors that had the most of them. They advanced hand in hand to make sure neither of them would end up secluded from the others.

It wasn’t long before they were completely in the dark. Jackson only had the vaguest idea of his surroundings by the way the sound of their footsteps echoed off the walls. They barely spoke to each other, and when they did, they only whispered; it was as if they were subconsciously afraid someone could hear them. Jackson could hear the tension in Sathariel’s voice, and imagined his Demon friend could hear the same in his. Eventually, Jackson resolved to start a conversation about something -anything-, as the silence was getting to him. It was bad enough that he couldn’t see the tip of his nose, but if none of his other senses were getting any stimulation either, he was certain he would go crazy in a matter of hours.

“What kind of job would you like to do in the other world, Seth?” Jackson asked his friend.

“I’ll probably do some farm work. I did that before. It’s pretty hard work and it usually doesn’t pay much, but farmers are always looking for more hands, and it doesn’t require much skill.”

“That’s not what I’m asking. What job do you want to do? There won’t be much use for a spymaster there.”

“I’m done with that line of work anyway,” Sathariel sighed. “I didn’t like it much in the end. All that spying, skulking, blackmailing… At first, it was exciting, but it got a little depressing. It made me cynical, too.”

“I hear ya. As for me, there’s no way I’m going back to the army. Like you said, I’m done with that line of work. Best to quit while I can still sleep at night. But you still haven’t answered-”

Before he could finish his sentence, Alizana stopped dead in her tracks, so abruptly Jackson slammed into her. Sathariel almost ran into him in turn.

“I heard something,” she said.

“What was it?” Jackson asked.

“Footsteps. I think. It was very faint.”

“I knew it! There are Cambions living here.”

“It could have been an animal,” Sathariel pointed out. “Liz, did you hear where it went?”

“That way,” Alizana said, seemingly pointing in a direction, forgetting the two others couldn’t see her at all. She realized a second later, harrumphed, took Jackson’s hand, and continued moving, taking a sharp right turn.

Alizana made sure to leave a claw mark on the wall to her right, then Jackson drew an arrow underneath, using Lawrence’s lighter and a piece of chalk. The corridor they followed went slightly up. Its floor was uneven, forcing them to slow down and be more cautious with every step. The climb seemed to go on for a long while, possibly over an hour, though Jackson had lost his sense of time a while ago. His sense of direction was long gone as well: he had no idea whether they were headed east, south, north… Were it not for the markings they had left, he would have no way of knowing they weren’t just going in circles.

Finally, the corridor stopped going up, as they arrived at some kind of plateau. From the echoes of his whistling, Jackson could tell they were now in a rather large room. Alizana led them further, then stopped once more.

“I heard it again!” she said. “Several of them, this time.”

“Which way?” Sathariel said.

“On our left- Hold on. I heard it on our right, now.”

“Shit, I heard it too, this time,” Jackson said.

It was definitely footsteps, and while it was still faint, it very much sounded like the feet of Humanoids. What surprised Jackson the most was how close they were, maybe fifteen feet away from him. They had seemed to come out of nowhere. Sathariel suddenly turned back on his heels, pulling on Jackson’s hand.

“And I heard it too! Behind us!” he said, his voice shaking.

More sounds were heard, in every direction. Jackson felt Alizana put an arm over him, pulling him back protectively. From the gasp Sathariel made, she did the same thing for him.

“They’re surrounding us,” Alizana said between clenched fangs.

Jackson’s heart started beating fast. His hand grabbed the handle of Byron’s ax, but he decided not to use it. Swinging a sharp instrument in the dark with two friends close by was a recipe for disaster.

“Are they Cambions?” Sathariel whispered.

“I can’t see them,” Alizana replied in a low voice. With a sniff, she added: “But I can smell them. They smell just like that creature who took you to meet Azazel.”

Partially reassured, Jackson let out a sigh.

“So what’s the plan now, Jack?” Sathariel said.

Plan? Me? Heh, he thought to himself; Byron also said something along the same lines. Jackson gently pushed Alizana’s arm away, and carefully stepped forward. He cleared his throat, then spoke to the invisible audience:

“Um… Hi, I’m Jackson Pulver. My people and I came to meet with the Archmage Azazel.”

He waited for a reaction of any kind, but was met with silence.

“She knows of us,” he continued. “She invited us to her Occultatum. We have been travelling for weeks, but the storm forced us to camp in your caves. We apologize if it has bothered you; I promise you we don’t intend to stay here any longer than we have to. Our supplies are running low, and with the storm still ongoing, we wish to use your tunnels to get closer to our destination. I’ve come to ask for your help: will you please guide us?”

The silence continued, and fear gripped Jackson’s stomach again. Sooo… What’s the backup plan again? He reached for the ax again, and tried to remember which way they came from. But then, a voice rose in the dark:

“Jackson Pulver.”

There was something… wrong with the voice, Jackson found, though he wasn’t sure exactly why. It sounded guttural and distorted, and it croaked and pronounced each syllable very deliberately, as if the speaker wasn’t used to such verbal communication.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Jackson said.

He heard more footsteps. One single person, walking towards him. He made an effort to remain completely still, his hands by his side. He even put on a smile, just in case; not an easy thing to do, when being observed in the dark by dozens of gazes. The person -the Cambion- went to stand within two feet from him.

“Our Lady spoke of a Jackson Pulver,” they said, their voice still sounding unnatural. Beyond the strange way it pronounced words, enunciating every syllable and omitting accentuations, Jackson figured out what it truly was about it that rubbed him the wrong way: its sound didn’t echo. At all.

“That’s me,” he said again.

“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t,” the Cambion retorted. “None of us in the Underneath have ever seen Jackson Pulver. Only our Lady may decide that.”

The Underneath? It must have been what they called the network of tunnels. Jackson took that as confirmation that Cambions were indeed living down there; they hadn’t just met with a patrol group or something.

“We will lead you to her,” they said. “But beware if you are not who you claim to be. The Underneath knows how to keep secrets.”

I don’t doubt that, Jackson thought, more than a little spooked. He tried not to wonder how many unwise travellers had entered that place, seeking fortune, knowledge, or merely refuge, and then never found their way out. But his imagination, always so hard to control, quickly formed the pictures of corpses abandoned at the bottom of pits, decaying and forgotten. Just what he needed to help with his stress levels.

The Cambions agreed to lead the rest of their people as well; one of them went back with Alizana to seek their various groups. Sathariel asked the Cambion who had spoken to them whether he could make more light with his lantern. They agreed with noticeable reluctance, but demanded he kept it away from them. Sathariel attached his lantern to the back of his belt; it seemed enough to make him more at ease in this environment. Even with the light, Jackson still couldn’t see the walls of the room. He couldn’t see the rest of the Cambions either, as they had all backed away from the lantern’s halo.

Without another word, three Cambions, including the one who apparently served as their speaker (whom Jackson had mentally nicknamed “Witch’s Nose”, due to how pointy and crooked his facial appendage was), led Jackson and Sathariel down another corridor, while the others seemed to vanish in the air. The Cambions walked briskly and with confidence; it was obvious they knew they were going, yet Jackson didn’t see them so much as consult a map or check the paintings on the walls. They didn’t seem to tire either, and kept going at the same pace even after two or three hours. Jackson could not say the same, and soon began feeling that now too familiar weakness in his ribs. Thankfully, the Cambions decided to make a stop at another large room, while they waited for the rest of Jackson’s and Sathariel’s group to join them. Sathariel asked how long it would take. Witch’s Nose laconically answered that he might as well prepare for the night. In fact, the rest of their group joined them within a couple of hours, but what the Cambion meant was that they wouldn’t move until the next morning, as it was already very late. Jackson had no idea how they could tell the time of the day, so far away from the sun or the stars, and Witch’s Nose merely shrugged when he asked them.

Many in the group had questions when they arrived. Alizana had done her best to explain the situation, and the identity of those strange people that had seemed to appear out of nowhere. Distrust was obvious in the expression of quite a few Hellhounds, Humans, Orcs, and Elves, and several were even openly afraid of those they had identified as Cambions; a particularly superstitious Human even shouted at one of them to stay away from him. The Cambions, as for them, seemed indifferent to these reactions. All the same, Alizana enjoined everyone to be respectful of their guides.

“You expect us to trust these… these creatures?” the superstitious Human said.

“I expect you to trust me,” Alizana said. “As to these people, they are our only way out of here, unless you wish to face the storm.”

The group spent the night in this large room, deep in the tunnels. The Cambions stayed away from their makeshift camp, and away from the fires they kept alight all through the night to keep warm -and also because the animals really didn’t like the dark. Jackson found sleeping deep underground like this to be deeply disconcerting. The fact that it was just as dark when he woke up as it was when he went to sleep made him feel like he hadn’t slept at all. And indeed his tired body told him he probably hadn’t had much rest, a few hours or so at the most. Going back to sleep wasn’t an option, so he just laid on his cot, arms folded beneath his head, and tried keeping his mind busy. On the cot next to him, Sathariel was snoring, so loudly Jackson wondered how it had never woken him up before. As to Alizana, sleeping on his other side, she was mumbling in her sleep, and repeatedly opened and closed her paws as if she was trying to catch something in her dreams.

Jackson watched over the two people he considered his family for a while, his mind going to distant places in the future, trying to figure out what it would be like for them. He had never been one for the desk-job, suburban house with a white picket fence, two kids and a dog kind of person. Some men in his unit seemed to think of this as their dream life, but to Jackson it just sounded kind of dull. We won’t be able to live in the suburbs, anyway, he reasoned. Like we said, it’d be in a forest somewhere. Hopefully in a southern state, where the winter is tolerable. Or in the Southwest, maybe. But we would definitely have a house. I’m done living in tents or huts anyway. Yeah, a nice little house in the forest… That doesn’t sound too bad, actually. Maybe some kind of loghouse. Those are pretty neat. Ideally, it’d be near a river, like in Vertrisia. Maybe we’d have a little garden with veggies in the backyard. We’d need a pickup truck, something that can go off-road, especially as long as we’d be living off the grid. Oh, that means we wouldn’t have power. Hell, I can’t imagine my kids growing out without a TV. Ain’t no childhood without Mr Rogers or Bugs Bunny. Maybe we could set up a generator or something? Or maybe we can find a way to still be connected.

His mind kept on wandering like this for a little while, until he fell asleep. He was woken up by Alizana, as she called everyone and instructed them to pack up. Apparently, Witch’s Nose had woken her up, and told her they needed to resume their trek. They were only a day from the Occultatum, and evidently the Cambions wished to get this over with quickly; everyone agreed. The group was uniquely silent as they gathered everything. Even the animals barely made any sound, although it was clear they didn’t like being underground much. Their carers had to put in a lot of effort to soothe them so they would agree to go further down the tunnels, and their path had to be lit up properly or they would staunchly refuse to move.

Jackson felt slightly less creeped out by his environment, now that he knew it was populated by Cambions. Only slightly: those Cambions, clearly living in seclusion, were nowhere near as friendly as Jowallan used to be -nor as used to the light. They stayed as far away from everyone as possible, and it was likely not just because of their dislike of the light. Only Witch’s Nose ever spoke to them, and even then he only spoke laconically, preferring to use hand signals whenever he could. Jackson noticed at some point during the trek that the Cambion was acting less coldly to him, and actually addressed him by his name; it seemed they had confirmed his identity, probably using their strange shadow magic. 

Still, despite their oddness, the Cambions did their job as guides properly, leading Jackson’s people through the underground maze, and preventing them from falling into any pitfalls.

When the midday came -or when the midday was estimated to have come-, Jackson’s group decided to skip lunch and to keep marching, chewing on some mushrooms to calm their appetite instead. No one was happy at the decision, of course, but all kept quiet. Jackson wasn’t sure whether he preferred this silence to the complaining and the grumbling from the previous days. No, come to think of it, he liked it much less. There hadn’t been many opportunities for entertainment during the journey so far, but at least Jackson and everyone else could admire the landscape. Not so underground, where the field of vision was limited at some twenty, maybe thirty feet, and where every tunnel pretty much looked like the others. And now, in addition, there was nothing but silence to accompany. Jackson was deeply thankful that Sathariel at least was still in a mood to talk, though he seemed reluctant to do so above a whisper.

“You know, you still haven’t answered my question the other day,” Jackson said to his friend.

“Well, I guess I won’t know whether I prefer tea or coffee until I’ve tried both of them,” Sathariel said.

“Nah, not that one. And honestly, I think you’ll definitely be a coffee guy, given how grumpy you are in the mornings. I meant about what you’ll want to do in my- in the other world.”

“Oh. I… I’m not really sure. I mean, it’ll be a brand new world, won’t it? I don’t even know whether I’ll ever fit in. And I have no training for anything.”

“Of course you will, buddy. You love beer, and I’m sure you’ll love football. As for training, you can learn on the job. I mean, you could go to college or something, if you really want to. Come on, forget about that. Just imagine you could do anything you wanted. What would you want to be?”

Sathariel sucked on his teeth, and pondered for a little while.

“Well… You talked a lot about those cars. They sounded pretty interesting. You also said there were many of them in your country.”

“Hell yeah. Everybody and their mom’s got one.”

“You also mentioned that these cars need looking after, like horses in our world. You told me about these mechanics, and how you hung around their shops for hours when your uncle Jared went to get his truck fixed.”

“Yeah, he couldn’t drive for shit. Hardly a week went by where he didn’t get into an accident. Scary thing is, he taught me how to drive.”

“Then…” Sathariel scratched his horn. “Maybe I could do that? Being a mechanic. I mean, if I can. I imagine there would be a lot to learn, and… Err, maybe someone with no experience with them wouldn’t… After all, I don’t even know how to, uh…”

“I think that’s a great idea,” Jackson said.

“Really?” The Demon smiled.

“Sure, you’d make an awesome mechanic,” Jackson said, smiling in turn. “You’re really good at anything you put your mind to. I mean, you created a spying ring out of nothing in the middle of a war. You infiltrated a military camp and organized a goddamn prison break. Learning how to fix cars is gonna be child’s play in comparison.”

“Heh, maybe,” Sathariel chuckled. “What about you? What do you want to do?”

The smile slowly died on Jackson’s lips. Yes, what did he want to do? He had never had an answer to that question back when he lived on Earth. The only time in his existence he had actually had a precise idea of what he wanted to do with his life was in Varda. There was a reason Jackson had planned on being buried there -hopefully after dying of old age.

“Geez, I don’t know,” he said with a joyless chuckle. “There aren’t many knights in that world. I mean, there are some in England, but it’s not… Erm. Other than that, I just… Well…” He exhaled. “I really don’t know what I want to do.”

“You must have a dream.”

“Yeah, and I had to let go of it to follow my people back on Earth,” he said bitterly. “Now I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry,” Sathariel said. 

“Maybe it’s fine, you know. I had a dream, and for a few years, I actually lived it. There aren’t many people who can say the same. Now maybe I’ll just lead the quiet life, and that’ll be good enough. If nothing else, it would be a nice change of pace after all this chaos.”

Wrapping an arm around his friend’s shoulders, Sathariel said: “Hey, come on, now. Don’t give up just like that. You’ll find another dream, I know you will. And Liz and I will support you, no matter what. Well, maybe not if you want to become the next Armilus.”

Jackson considered Sathariel, suddenly remembering why he had so quickly become attached to him, and why he now considered him the closest friend he ever had. He then thought that maybe, just maybe, creating a life on Earth with Alizana and Sathariel, in a nice house, with a bunch of children of his own… Well, that could be very close to a dream life. He returned the side hug, pushing his head against Sathariel’s while trying to avoid his horns, and stayed like this for a moment.

In the absence of any natural light, the trek seemed to go on for a long, long while. Many people became increasingly nervous as they traveled through what the Cambions called the Underneath; some even took to quake every time they thought they saw something move in the shadows. Others told them it was probably one of the Cambions, but that only partly assuaged their fears. 

As they pressed on, Jackson and Sathariel speculated as to how the Cambions lived in such a place. At some point, they heard the sound of rushing water, and assumed it was an underground stream or river. That would explain how they had water, but what about food? Did they survive solely on mushrooms and moss, or had they found a way to grow crops far away from the sun? Jackson also wondered how they slept: did they camp or did they have some kind of underground houses?

“Do you think they have pets down there?” Sathariel humorously asked Jackson. “Like pet bats? Or pet bears? Pet spiders, maybe?”

They both laughed. Then, Sathariel’s face lit up, and he exclaimed:

“Over there!”

Jackson in the direction he was pointing, and let out an exclamation of joy in turn. In front of them, perhaps some hundred feet away, was what looked like an exit. He could see the light of the sun; it was turning orange, indicating it was the evening. Elbowing Sathariel, he raced him to the exit, and beat him there by a couple of seconds. As he stepped outside, finally leaving the tunnels behind, he threw his head back, embraced the open skies, and screamed in both triumph and joy.

“Put on your cape,” Alizana said, arriving after he and Sathariel. “You’re going to get cold.”

The young man had indeed put away his cape during the trek through the tunnels, as well as his gloves and his extra pair of socks. The Underneath, while still cold, was warmer than the outside -and it definitely helped that there was no wind down there. Jackson looked around, hummed the air, then said:

“It’s not… It’s not cold, actually.”

“He’s right,” Sathariel said. “I mean, I’ll keep my layers, but the temperature is actually quite tolerable here. And… Look!”

He gestured at the ground. Snow was present, but only in spots, far from the thick and unbroken layer it was on the other side of the tunnels. Jackson took a better look at his surroundings. They had arrived in a small, grassy valley, surrounded by tall mountains. A few yards away, he saw trees with thin trunks and big webs of branches. They had been planted in straight rows, indicating that the place was likely an orchard of some kind. Their leaves were completely gone, but that and the spots of snow were the only visible sign that winter was here. Going by the temperature alone, Jackson would have sworn this was a comfortable autumn day: not exactly warm, but far from cold. He heard some of his people whisper that this strange climate was a result of Azazel’s strange magic. It might well be true, he thought.

One by one, all of the groups came out of the Underneath through different exits, and converged in the center of the valley. The Cambions didn’t follow them immediately, sticking to their caves until the sunlight declined. They indicated that the Occultatum was to the north, and would be reached later that night. There was a collective sigh of relief, and someone suggested having a real meal, perhaps even a little feast using most of the food that was left. Even though there was not a lick of alcohol left, it did wonders for everyone’s spirits: within an hour, most everybody had forgotten the anxiety of the Underneath’s darkness.

“I suppose we could make this a day of celebration as well,” Alizana said, enjoying some fried mushrooms on a wooden skewer. “The day of the Second Exodus, or something like that.”

“How many days of celebration does that make, now?” Sathariel said. “Five, six? I’ve lost count.”

“Well, I’ll take any excuse to party, thank you very much,” Jackson said, toasting with his brewed moss. He still hasn’t gotten accustomed to the taste of that beverage, but it was either that or plain water.

Soon after dinner, the Cambions decided the light was low enough for them to get out in the open. Jackson noticed some of them were uncomfortable walking under the open sky; it was most likely psychological, as others, who were probably more used to leaving their caves, had no problem with it. They led the groups to the other side of the valley, then along a narrow path towards the top of what looked like a mountain with a flat top. The environment changed quickly, going from grassy to rocky. All vegetation seemed to disappear, even the moss and tiniest shrubs. The dominant color of the rocks changed, turning from light grey to almost-black dark. Strangely, even though they were moving higher in the mountains, the temperature kept increasing.

As they reached the top, Jackson realized this mountain they were climbing was in fact a volcano, thankfully looking to be extinct. In fact, its bedrock, filled with cold stone, was barely fifty or sixty feet lower than the edges. Looking down, Jackson’s mouth dropped as he contemplated one of the strangest spectacles he had ever seen. Doting the crater, which was perhaps two miles wide, were tall pillars of rock, looking like teeth jutting out of the ground. Flows of lava were streaming down several of them. But… No: they were streaming up. Jackson did a double take, but it wasn’t, as he thought, a trick of the light: the lava was indeed coming out of a hole in the ground, and flowing up the pillars, then disappearing in another hole on top. It certainly explained the temperature, but raised quite a few more questions. Other pillars were punctuated with holes at their base, which, upon closer inspection, were caves, leading inside the volcano. 

At the center of the crater was a great tower made out of black rocks, occupying almost half of the crater, and rising high in the skies. By the few windows and balconies, Jackson counted at least fourteen floors, which made it the tallest building he’d ever seen in this world.

Other than the pillars and the tower, the crater was empty and eerily quiet. There were no birds nor bugs, though that could be explained by the winter or the altitude. The wind went silent too as everyone entered the crater, its edges acting as a shield. The animals, who had been nervous through the tunnels, were now openly scared; a horse even tried to run away, only just reined in by two Hellhounds. Oddly, it didn’t seem to be the lava they feared -Jackson didn’t think they even knew what it was-, but the tower. Halfway to the building, it was decided to let go of the animals, and to carry the equipment and what was left of the food by hand. Some who had grown attached to their horse, their donkey, or their cow, were saddened, but others reasoned that the animals should not follow them in the other world anyway. One Elf, watching his favorite mare go, said he hoped there would be horses in that other world; Jackson assured him there were.

It was nighttime when they finally reached the steps before the Occultatum’s main entrance, but the pillars of lava made it easy to see despite the new moon. Jackson wasn’t sure what the gates were made out of. I looked like some kind of dark blue stone, but not one he had seen before; it looked perfectly smooth, and had a strange sheen to it. Witch’s Nose walked up the steps, followed by Jackson. Standing before the gates, the Cambion uttered some words in an unknown language which sounded like nails on a chalkboard to Jackson. The gates almost immediately opened inwards, revealing a grand hall lit by many candles, and the Archmage Azazel, dressed in a red robe, her black mask covering her face as ever.

“Welcome back to the Occultatum, Jackson Pulver, Lord Byron,” Azazel said. “I hope the road was not too inclement to you.”

“It wasn’t exactly a cakewalk,” Jackson said. “We’ve had… a few problems along the way.”

“At least, your journey is at an end now.”

“Well, not quite,” Byron said. “This is just the last stop before our final destination, right? Speaking of, when will you open the portal?”

“We’ll discuss this later. For now, the hour is late, and your people must be tired. My Occultatum is open to you all. You are welcome to use the rooms on the second, third, fourth, and fifth floor tonight. There is food available in the kitchens below the ground floor.”

“Can you accommodate all of us?” Alizana asked, joining the conversation. “We are over a thousand people.”

“Of course,” Azazel simply answered.

The long column of Humans, Hellhounds, Elves, Orcs, and Demons entered the Occultatum, with no rush but no particular order either. All shared the same awe of that great building. To some, that awe was mixed with wonder; to others, with apprehension. The grand hall was empty save for them and Azazel. There was not one guard standing at the gate, not one servant tending to the place, not one person seating at any of the many tables.

“Is the place abandoned?” Sathariel whispered to Jackson.

“I sent my magis and my students away for the time being,” Azazel replied, having clearly heard him even though she was standing some ten feet away. “As to the Cambions, they’ll keep to their homes, and you’ll not see them much.”

“Don’t want any witnesses around?” Jackson said.

“Something like that.”

Alizana, Jackson, and Sathariel went up the different floors. The floors from second to fifth were built along the same floor plan, and contained several dorm rooms, each capable of housing about one hundred people, and all of them entirely unoccupied. All in all, there was enough for everyone to sleep in a bed that night. There still wasn’t much in the way of privacy, but it was a welcome change after a month of sleeping on a cot. Not to mention, the beds and their sheets were clean, unlike the cots.

Still, Jackson had trouble sleeping that night, as his thoughts wouldn’t stop racing in his mind. As was said, the journey was nearing its end, and he couldn’t stop thinking about what that meant.

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