Desalith had set out a couple days prior to the location agreed upon a decade ago, bringing little but his gear, some food and his trusty staff.

The simple nature of the village and lack of interesting activity made it easy to remember the reunion in good time. He lived on the border of the village and left during the early morning, so few people noticed him begin his trek into the mountains. One man did notice, however.

“Off on a trip, are ya?” asked the old man who lived in a house nearby, along the road leading out of the village. Old he was, but only half the age that Desalith. Regardless, he held great respect for the old man, who was an adventurer himself in his time.

“Indeed. It is time to meet some old friends.” he smiled and told him.


“Farewell! I’ll see ya back someday, eh?” the old man waved goodbye and continued back home.

---

The weather stayed clear as he travelled, and he encountered no issues along the way - no doubt due to the season. Even the lingering haunts in his mind made little appearance, even at night.

He found his destination during the evening of the third day. He assumed he was early; there was no lingering of the Vanguard’s aura nor the hard to miss footsteps of Cewri. He corrected his assumption when he noticed a reddish light in the house and smoke from the chimney, with a horse and an empty cart on the side. He was most likely beaten by Celeste, which wasn’t too surprising.

Entering the house, he noticed it as well kept up. Free of dust, with a couple barrels that appeared, when he looked, to be filled with drink and a decent assortment of food.

He heard the creaking of branches outside and turned to the doorway. He saw a face that he had not seen in years.