not i, nor you, will know how the ______ goes

Lucian leaned on Zane’s shoulder as Shay trailed behind the pair. Though the journey required other sources of light, someone lit the lanterns alongside the murals recently, meaning Lucian had a chance to rest from being a human lantern after putting Pearce to sleep.

“You sure you’re okay?” Zane said. “You were dead tired, but you still knocked out all those knights. Pretty sure that’s not good for your health.”

Lucian shut his eyes. “I’ll be fine. Thank you. And—sorry, for being a burden…”

“’S cool. You came back for me even though I gave you a clear shot out.” … “And y’know. Thanks for that.”

Shay cleared his throat, elbowing Zane. “And my thanks?”

“Personally, I see your help as more of an apology for all the shit you’ve pulled since we’ve ended up here.”

Shay opened his mouth, froze, and shut it. “Eugh. Fine.”

A few sparks chirped. For some reason, they’d taken to following Shay—and he’d taken to throwing them crumbs of snacks to get them off his back, which only encouraged them to totter behind him. By the looks of it, they might’ve been happy choosing Shay as their new queen.

But, as funny as it was, something far more important commandeered Zane’s attention.

The murals continued, telling a story in reverse. Xital stood by Vitam in the end, albeit not side-by-side—if one looked, truly looked, they’d seen something like threads binding the two, extending from Xital’s arms to Vitam’s neck.

As they continued, the legend proceeded as Zane expected: Vitam and its followers, portrayed in muddy ominous hues and glow-gems raining down on them as if to condemn the god.

Further back, pictures followed of Xital weaving living beings out of threads, each painted in textured streaks.

Further, further back…

Zane stopped.

“The hell is this?” He elbowed Shay. “You’re from here. What’s going on here?”

“Huh? Told you already, I’ve never seen these before in my life.”

“…Really?”

“Never a godly guy, obviously. And my father’s not about to let any random people lay eyes on Xital’s murals. See, kid, that’d make it way too easy to vandalize.”

Lucian took a step forward. “It’s not already vandalized…?”

Shay grumbled insults, but Zane couldn’t blame Lucian for thinking that when the same thought came to him. The later murals provided a clear story, one consistent with what Zane knew. But eventually the textured materials vanished, colors meshed together, until the last mural consisted of a muddled pool of every hue imaginable, materials smeared into paint and glow stones circling the mess as if to display the ‘image’ with great pride.

Maybe if Zane was more of an art guy, he wouldn’t be having so much trouble with this.

Lucian put a hand against it. The paint almost shimmered under his touch—that, or Zane was seeing things. He narrowed his eyes, backing away from the mural, trying to see into what wasn’t seen, understand what wasn’t made to be pieced together—

The colors blurred, and in the center, sat a complete circle. Cleaved in half, a continent with beautiful beaches, a clear sky unpolluted by lights—

Wait, what the…

“Hey, kid, watch it!”

Shay threw Zane to the ground, Lucian falling over as well. An arrow landed in the soil, one near both men, several Dwim armed with bows and arrows standing at the mouth of the next cavern; they nocked more arrows before Shay threw his hands up. “Seriously, stop! They’re with me! Stop putting arrows in our heads!”

“…Shay?” One of them dropped his bow. The Dwim ran over, yanking Shay off of Zane before dragging him away from the pair. Lucian groaned, sitting up.

Though Zane knew he should’ve been more nervous being hunted by Dwims, compared to the knights they left him less on edge. They’d been hunting down Zane and Lucian for a while. But maybe these guys had a chance of being reasoned—

One of the Dwims stuck an arrow to Zane’s head. “Isn’t this one of the church assholes?”

“Please, don’t shoot—” Lucian began, putting his hands up as another Dwim aimed his arrow. Shay waved his hands, yelling louder.

“Seriously, quit it! If it means anything to you, they got me outta this mess, so let them explain first!”

One Dwim looked to another. “…Does that mean anything?”

“Hey!!”

Zane didn’t have much faith in Shay saving their lives. Luckily, he didn’t need to believe

Heavy footsteps echoed—tracing a path closer, growing louder still. “Enough. My sons’s an idiot, but he’s not the kind of fool that’ll defend people who want him dead. Let me take a look at ‘em.”

And look he did.

The leader of this little group wore fine leather armor, a massive bow strapped to his back. His thick beard and mustache obscured everything but his deep scowl and terrifying gaze. His height exceeded that of the other Dwims here, and everything about his posture, stance, existence screamed power. Confidence. He asserted himself without saying a word.

He stopped at Zane. Regarded the man with a cold look. Until, finally, he held a hand out. “Barry Healy. You’re Zane Blythe. And that man over there’s the False Avatar, Lucian Grierwood.”

Lucian bit his lip and looked down. “You shouldn’t know that…”

A Dwim nocked his arrow again. Lucian gasped. “Not that it’s a bad thing! It’s fine! Perfectly fine!”

“If you know all that, then you know I’m not with the church anymore,” Zane said. “And neither is Lucian.”

“Well…”

“Seriously, dude, stop talking.”

“Sorry…”

Shay sighed, loudly, enough to further Lucian’s embarrassment. “They came to me wanting to get through town. They’ve had plenty of chances to throw me out, but the gullible blonde one made Mr. Angry drag me along.”

“You know, I’d think I’d rather take the arrow,” Zane said. “Kidding. But it’d be a lie if we just wanted to pass through. We wanted to see the murals too.”

Barry huffed, walking from Zane to Lucian. He grabbed Lucian’s head, pulling him up as two Dwims aimed arrows at him.

Zane’s heart stopped.

“If your people think they can take our history from us,” Barry said, “then I’ll gladly take you. You, and whoever sent you here.”

“It’s not—please, wait—!”

Zane’s hand landed on Barry’s shoulder. One of the Dwim launched an arrow into Zane’s shoulder, but he refused to let go. “He’s—here to see the murals—because we want to stop the church. Come on, let us explain—ow, shit…”

Barry looked just about ready to gut Zane like a fish just for touching him, if not for Shay throwing himself between Zane and his father.

“Hey, this isn’t how you make a deal! Everyone put the arrows down and sit, ‘fore you give me a heart attack!”

Lucian, wide-eyed, bolted to Zane’s side. He grabbed his injured shoulder and went to work healing, while Barry regarded his son with something close to a prideful disappointment.

“…Please?” Shay tacked on.

Zane knew nothing of his own parents, nor did he pretend to understand the complexities of father-son nonsense. But he had a feeling, from the way Barry confronted Zane and Lucian that he held little respect for his son’s opinions on most things.

But for a moment.

For just this moment… Barry stepped back, face pinched and seconds from blowing. But he held back, and Shay sighed in relief.

“If these intruders can get you in front of my team’s arrows, then fine. We can talk. But one step out of line and you know what I’ll do to them.”

Yeah, Zane got the memo on that already.