Jonathan's brows twitched and he groaned, trying to open his eyes which felt heavy. He cleared his throat and yawned. It still felt difficult to move his body.

"Oh, good morning, Jonathan," he heard Anabel say in a sweet voice.

He smiled as he turned to take a look at her, following her voice. "Good morning. What are you still doing here?" She was wearing a long robe-like attire, a shawl over her shoulders, her hair braided. She looked so beautiful, so... ethereal.

"Oh, I just came in," she looked at the door. "You must have woken up due to the creaking. Your friends have gone out." She came a little closer and sat down by him. "Agnes is showing them around. I came in to check on you. Grace told me she'd stay back but I insisted." She smiled cutely.

"What do you do, Anabel?" Jonathan asked, observing her closely, her every aspect.

She became confused for a moment. "You mean what I do here in the village? I'm an arborist. I tend trees and pick fruits. Mostly I have to care for the shrubs as the fruits only grow at certain times a year."

"So...you brought fruits that time as delivery?" Jonathan said with fascination.

"Yes! Apples and oranges. We grow them here. They are suited for cool climates. I also cultivate silkworms and extract and process silk out of their threads. It's a fascinating process. Agnes and some others work in the tea bushes. The nobles love our tea," she spoke on the topic with such passion.

Jonathan smiled weakly, looking at her face, then to her hands laying over her lap, wondering how those little appendages worked the miracle of growing fruits and looking after plants. Then he looked away and said, "I have always been amazed to look at fruits. I have never tasted one. I know we have more important things to buy in Sepiden than fruits."

"Well, now you can get them for free!" She giggled.

"Really?"

Anabel looked at him, dumbstruck. "You need to ask?"

Jonathan chuckled, but then he caught his head. It ached.

Anabel put her palm over his head and quickly pulled away. "No better! The fever is getting strong. I shall bring some wet cloth. You wait." She got up hastily.

Jonathan groaned but could not reply anything back. He hated that Anabel had to go through all this pain because of him. But what could he do? He lied back and tucked himself under the blanket.

Anabel felt bad to leave Jonathan in his current state. And considering the condition he was in, it was too risky to give him the bad news they had received last night.

She couldn't even imagine... What did it feel like to know your home had burned down to the ground? That all you ever knew was in shambles, and even the roof above your hut was no more, leaving the walls as a skeleton carcass of what once was?

This was all so cruel. So very cruel.

They should have had made temples there. Such a catastrophe might have been averted if they had.

A boy shot past her, running. She called after him. "Oy, Robin!"

He slid to a stop. "What?" His youth shone so much brighter than her, and sometimes she envied being little again, even though he was but four years younger than she.

Anabel walked up to him and ruffled his red hair. "Could you tell Agnes to bring some tea to the barn soon?"

His face grew many folds upon the request. "Oh, come on! We have a match of kickball. I can't be late!"

Anabel grew stern. "Robin, there's a sick person in the barn. Some tea would soothe his body. Surely you understand."

Robin pouted and looked away beyond her. "Alright." But only a moment later, he seemed to have mustered a bit of courage and asked back, "Why can't you do it in my place?"

Anabel sighed. "I must bring wet cloth and cool his head. Agnes is not in that part of the village."

"Right, I saw her with all the new people, discussing in that big hut. I'll be quick!" He took off running, faster than before.

Anabel broke into a smile and tried running as well, her feet galloping over the soft padding of grass and the rubble of pebbles, slowly taking her closer and closer to her house- a home that still remained- unlike the unfortunate.

"Too bad for his condition. The demonstration has to wait till he fares better," one of the old men said.

Grace nodded, looking down. "Yes, we understand," she said in a reserved voice.

"Can I meet him?" Walter asked in a hurried manner.

Grace could understand how he was feeling. The person he looked up to was now sick in bed, and their village was now a heap of rubble. In this condition, how could he not go and see him? Yet if he did, Jonathan may not receive the news well, and in the condition he was in, it was not worth the risk.

"Walter." Grace was surprised to hear Beatrice speak. "I know how much you care for him. But we have to do what needs to be done first. And, you won't want to meet him when he's weak and vulnerable. Let him get better."

Walter hung his head down and Mary patted his back.

"Horatio, how many carts could you let us borrow? How many do you have?"

He was quick to reply. "We have four carts. We also have spare parts like wheels and wooden planks. Some in the barn, and some in store houses. We can give you the four carts for now. Orlando seems to be a strong fellow. If we are productive, we might be able to make another cart within a day or two."

Beatrice smiled with confidence. "Great! So here's what we'd do. We would fill the five carts, ours included, with some rations, take it to our village, supply it to everyone and take in the ones we can accommodate. While here," she looked at Orlando and placed a hand on his bicep, "you work your hardest to get that cart ready as soon as you can and send it in our direction. You can drive it."

Orlando smiled proudly. "Place your trust in me! I would have it done in no time."

She grew sombre. "And whatever you do, don't let Jonathan get an idea of what is happening. Let him have the surprise when he recovers fully. And until everybody is brought here, we would have to make arrangements to give a place for all of our villagers to stay."

Mary said, "Anabel has already arranged beds in her house and Agnes'. It should be fine to accomodate us all. But what do we do for the others?"

"We don't have enough houses for all, I am afraid," Horatio said in an annoyed manner. "Pardon me, but tell me how can you repay us? Sure, you have lost your home, and as an act of charity, we are willing to provide you with some shelter. But you should know our farms and resources cannot sustain such a rise in population."

"We would work in the fields for you," Grace said with determination. She stood up, her fists clenched. "We would dig more ground, sow more seeds. We would bring every bit of what's left of our village to you. We won't be a burden."

Horatio looked impressed. A genuine smile appeared on his face as he said, "Very well! I think we would have to sleep congested for a few weeks till we make new houses for you all. But if you are willing to help us, we must assist you in any way possible. On our next delivery, we would bring twice the amount of goods we normally produce. And in exchange, we would get whatever items we need to rebuild you your home, here."

"Thank you," Grace said in a ghost of a whisper, as tears fell from her eyes. She rubbed them quickly.

"However, there's one more thing that needs to be seen. Your farming skills will be inadequate here," Horatio spoke rather coldly.

"What?! Why?" Orlando stood up, frowning.

"See, our climes differ. It has to be seen how you manage to even produce the plants you used to, back in your village, here. The soil is different. The temperature is cold. Plants are not as adaptive as us." He shrugged.

"We'd find a way," Mary spoke with vigour. Walter put a hand on her shoulder cautioning wordlessly not to speak anything foolish in the spur of the moment. But she smiled and placed her palm over his. "We must emerge victorious in this cruel play of fate. We can learn that dreaded art of magic." The old men smiled. "We can find new solutions to our problems through each of our Books Of Salvation. We can even bring those troublemakers from the other village and make them teach us alchemy! We can, if we believe we can! You just need the will to do it!" She huffed, out of breath.

Walter held her arm. "We will make out a way Mary. I believe in you." Mary looked at him, nodded and took a seat.

At that moment a boy came in. "Agnes!"

She stirred and went to the door. "Robin! I told you I'd be busy for awhile."

"Anabel told me that the person in the barn is sick, and asked me to tell you to bring him some tea. It would make him feel good."

Agnes nodded, dismissing him. He ran off, shouting: "I better not be late for my game!"

"I'd be back shortly." Agnes went out.

Everybody was silent for a few moments. Grace looked out. The mountains looked so peaceful, so incredibly massive yet serene. They were far taller than the cliffs back at home.

Suddenly, Grace remembered something. Walter had told Mary about the cave he had taken shelter in. It caused her to remember another cave. Another cave that she'd heard Jonathan speak about.

"Sires." She turned around to the old men. "You are not people who meddle with us villagers much, do you?"

The old men seemed to nod amongst them and one eventually said in a raspy voice. "We like to observe what happens in this world. We don't try and break the balance very often. We only know them," he gestured with his fingers heavenward, looking up," and if by some means we get to appease them, then it's an opportunity we do not want to miss. Even if it goes on to help a certain village, the sacrifices sure bring good health to everybody. Better times are what we all seek!"

"You have a twisted sense of morality," Grace said in an angry voice.

The elders laughed. "Ho, ho, ho. I wouldn't be so sure, my dear. I would rather denote it as an act of kindness."

"Tch. Whatever. Tell me something. Normally you pass by this village and go someplace else, don't you? You only dine here sometimes out of exhaustion. So, what is that place? And why is it so special?"

The men hummed. Another one of them said with much pleasure, "I see. So you want to know of our pilgrimage."

Yet another continued. "It is a holy place, suited only for those who are worthy. And, may I tell you that even if most of you all aren't, the newly come definitely qualify."

One from the side said, "It's a rocky and difficult path. Only those who are worthy are let to pass. You have to gain the trust of the Earth Gods. Only then would you be allowed to live and not fall off."

A cold sweat dripped down Grace's cheek. "What is in that place that is so important?"

They all smiled so eerily, smiles so ominous, it looked as if their faces were carved. "It's a holy place. And you all must come. It's an altar. And you shall unlock your capabilities there, or at least identify them. It is where magic exists in its purest form, unharnessed by man, existing as energy. Energy full of potential, promise, and power!"

"But why do you visit that place? You already know the art," Beatrice pointed, a bit frightened now that they seemed to get back into their manic characters.

"We monitor the Gate, assess the battles above and below and see how many make it near to the key, or the artefact," the one in the centre spoke his hands stretched to the sides, head bent back in an unnatural angle.

They all looked at each other, uncomprehending of what that meant. "When will we be learning magic then? And must we?"

"Soon, my dear. And 'must you'?" He laughed. "In order to survive till the very end you absolutely must. It's a blessing! And to be able to use it, is the grandest of honours!"

They all turned silent. Whatever their future held, it was clear to Grace that it was not getting bright anytime soon.

"I'll be going to see Jonathan now," she said in a rush, and took off before anyone could forestall her.

But she knew, it did not matter how much she tried running away. This madness was not going to leave them anytime soon. It was the way of the world.

And eventually, she would have to accept it.