The following morning, we all rolled into movement yet again.
The morning was pleasant to walk in. Birds chirped through the forest canopy, and strange insects buzzed around with blinking blue lights in their asses.
That was genuinely the best way to describe them — tiny flying things with glowing rear ends, dancing around the line of the Caravan like living lanterns. Octavia chuckled softly as she lifted her fingers, and one landed on her knuckle, shaking its luminous butt directly in her face.
"What are those?" I asked, watching another one drift past my nose. "Aren’t they dangerous?"
Who knew what insect could poison someone with a single touch? There were plenty of those back on Earth, and it was safe to assume there’d be even worse in a world like Ealdrim — a world sponsored by spiritual essence.
Every creature here had the ability to consume essence. Of course, according to what Instructor Stanley had explained, it was only when they reached a certain threshold that they went from being a Wild Beast to a Spirit Beast, making them genuinely dangerous.
One thing the academy had drilled into us was that spirit essence wasn’t just some magical system. It was the fundamental blood of the world. Every single thing in nature was capable of exploiting it — plants, animals, insects, even the dirt beneath your feet.
If a human was exposed to spirit essence beyond their soul threshold, they could become something else entirely.
So one had to be careful with these things.
"They’re called Tercet flies," Octavia said, her eyes tracking one as it spiraled upward. "Actually very beautiful. You find them here and there around the forests." A small smile touched her lips. "When I was younger, I used to go Tercet hunting with my friends. We would go into the forest, put a lot of them in a transparent container, and hang them up as lanterns..."
Her tone turned wistful, and her gaze drifted somewhere far away.
"Now that I think about it, that was crude of us."
I watched her for a couple of seconds, noting the shadow that had crept into her expression. Then I spoke up, keeping my voice light.
"You were a kid... there’s nothing a kid knows. I’ve done worse things as a kid!"
She looked at me curiously. "Really?"
I froze for a moment.
’Why did I say that?’
But I nodded anyway. "Of course. I used to be very mischievous... no one knew peace in my estate."
She studied me for a long moment, her head tilting slightly.
"I wasn’t mischievous though?"
And there went my attempt to help her not feel sad or nostalgic. Crashed and burned in spectacular fashion.
I scratched my sideburns, suddenly feeling awkward. "Well, I just mean to say... some of us have it worse, so don’t pressure your past self."
She smiled and looked away.
"I can tell you’re a good person..."
I was silent for a moment.
Her father had said the same thing. But here I was, thinking to myself — am I truly a good person?
To be honest, I didn’t consider myself one. I had never considered myself a good person, even before coming to Ealdrim. Whoever I was right now was just a product of circumstances. If my situation were reversed, I might very well be the worst person out there.
Shameless. Entitled. Greedy. King of lust — name it all. I would’ve taken the whole seven deadly sins and made them into armor.
There was truly nothing good about me.
I let out a small smile and said simply, "Thank you, Octavia. You’re a good person too. Your father is a good person, and your whole village."
She smiled brightly, and the shadow in her expression lifted.
"Right? And they’re pretty strong! So I know they’d definitely survive this."
’Would they?’
With the brutality of the Church that I had witnessed — however little of it I’d actually seen — it was difficult to say a bunch of old warriors would survive. The Church didn’t leave survivors. They left examples.
But in Octavia’s eyes, I saw hope. A great, shining degree of hope.
And it felt like my heart was permeated and torn open by the light of it — that desperate, beautiful belief that the people she loved would be okay. That the world wasn’t as cruel as I knew it to be.
So I smiled too.
"Yes, I’m sure they’d survive this!"
As we continued on, the number of Tercet flies increased. What had been charming quickly became a burden, the soft blue glow now more nuisance than atmosphere.
People waved them away as they buzzed around, slipping into skirts and sleeves. They weren’t harmful, but they were still a bother — like mosquitoes with delusions of being decorative.
I had to clap my hands against some and slap the death out of them, which earned me Octavia’s death stare every single time.
’Sorry, but I’m not letting one crawl into my ear.’
Still, the strange atmosphere didn’t stop the Caravan’s advancement.
There was a man a few wagons ahead — bald head, body like a premium pack of muscles, with a scar running toward his neck that disappeared into his black, rugged sleeveless coat. I could see him frowning slightly, his eyes tracking the Tercet flies with a dim light of suspicion.
Then, at that exact moment, Levi looked at Tristan.
Silent communication passed between them. No words. Just a glance that said everything.
Nisha was closer to me, arms folded and eyes closed, utterly unbothered as the flies swarmed around her. I leaned in.
"Hey Nisha, what’s happening? What’s with all the flies?"
The old man that Tristan had been chatting with throughout yesterday — the one who seemed to know everything about everything — frowned and looked up at the canopy.
Nisha’s eyes opened. She was looking around now too.
Everyone on this wagon was conscious of it. They were all veterans, experienced in their own fields, and the way they assessed the increased number of flies was telling.
Very telling.
Something was certainly going wrong.
’Damnit... did I jinx it?’