The men cheered, all except Loy, who’d stopped fighting his captors, his eyes wide as he stared at Jost. With a whoop and a holler, each and every man save for Faryon, Loy and Jost began leaping into the liquid, not caring that it soaked their clothes. They sank into it, letting it coat every part of their sweat-stained bodies. Like Corren, they drank deeply, making pleasant sounds.

“Join us,” Faryon said, extending a hand to Loy.

The man hesitated only a moment before striding forward and accepting his hand. Twined together, they waded into the liquid. It was soothingly warm against Faryon’s skin and he closed his eyes, remembering that day he’d fallen from the tree. That beautiful day that had changed his life forever. Keeping his eyes closed, he cupped his hands and used them to drink, savoring the sweetness on his tongue before swallowing.

“Ahhh,” he murmured, but his sigh was quickly interrupted by the screams.

His eyes flashed open to find his men, who’d been splashing and playing like children on a hot summer’s day a moment ago, with their mouths agape, staring in horror at the first man who’d entered the pool. For Corren was no longer a youthful, handsome man grown but an even younger version of himself, perhaps ten name days old, scrawny and baby-faced, his hair tousled and thick.

“What?” the boy version of Corren said, his voice too high, having not changed into the deep gruff voice that had been his trademark all these years. He clamped his lips shut, a frown forming on his face as he looked around, seeming to try to discern who it was that had spoken the word he’d tried to speak himself.

Before Faryon’s very eyes, Corren began to age once more, but in reverse, shrinking, thinning, but then thickening once more, pudge forming on his tiny cheeks, arms and legs. Floating in the viscous fluid, baby Corren cried a toothless cry, one that was stifled when he sank beneath the golden flow.

For a moment, there was silence, all the men’s eyes trained on the spot Corren had vanished, jaws drooping in shock and fear. All of them were younger now, around Jost’s age.

All at once they sprang into motion, paddling the golden liquid behind them, pushing and shoving each other as they fought to get back onto dry land. One man knocked another aside so hard that he splashed face-first into the pond. He retaliated by grabbing his assailant’s leg and dragging him after him.