Kolby found the nearest thing to a path and led them down in single file over algae-and-lichen-covered rocks to the mouth of the cave. The sea continued to battle the cliff. Waves churned and exploded in geysers, each accompanied by an impressive boom! Blasted by the constant ocean wind and drenched by the salty spray, the four shivered with cold. Farilane pulled tight the front of her cloak and drew up the saturated hood. She attempted to wipe her face with a sleeve, only to discover that it, too, was soaked.

Kolby and Cedric entered the sea-slicked cave first. The younger man paused just inside and dropped his pack next to a small tidal pool. He drew forth one of three lanterns and set to lighting it as evening faded into night.

“All the caves on this coast are reputed to be haunted. Did you know that?” Virgil asked while struggling to keep up. “People in the village said so.”

“Every town has ghost stories.” Farilane adjusted her pack, which had been cutting into her neck. Satisfied that the strap was in a better place, at least for the time being, she glanced back at Virgil. “And since when do you believe in ghosts?”

“Always have.”

Farilane smirked, to no effect. The man was going blind and likely couldn’t see her face beneath the hood. “Next you’ll be telling me you believe in the gods.”

“I do.”

“Really?” she scoffed.

“We’ve discussed this on many occasions!”

Farilane frowned. “I’d hoped you were just going through a phase. I mean, how can you still believe in deities? You’re the most educated man I know.”

Virgil shook salt water off his cloak. “The more we know, my dear, the more we understand how little we understand.”

“Sounds like you’re stuttering in whole words.” She smirked again, only to remember he still couldn’t see her expression.

“No one knows everything, and you could benefit from listening to me once in a while.”

“Uh-huh. Okay, old wise one, tell me this: Do gods grant wishes to their faithful?”

Virgil considered this a moment, then shook his head. “Not usually, no.”

“Then what’s the point of having them?”

“Wishes or gods?”

She smiled. “Cute. Gods, of course.”

“That’s like asking what’s the point of air, trees, or rain. You can’t—”

Farilane used her fingers to tick off each of the three in order. “To breathe, for lumber and fuel, and to drink.”

“Okay, bad examples.”

“Not at all. They illustrate my assertion perfectly. Everything has a purpose, except the gods. So why have them?”

“But we don’t have them. They exist by their own right.”

“Oh, really? Can you name a single person who has seen a god?”

“There are several stories where—”

“Those are myths. The question is, have you, or anyone you’ve personally met, encountered a god?”

“No, but—”