Tinder is crying, unable to explain the reason for her tears. The despair in the air is so sharp, it almost draws blood. Croi puts the pixie in the sling, where she shrinks into as small a ball as she can. She walks out of the village and takes the road to the edge of the unfamiliar forest.

“Let’s talk,” she finally says, keeping her voice low. They’re still within hearing distance of the mountain.

The pixie pokes her head out of the sling and looks at Croi. Her pupils contract and she gulps. Her nose is as red as her eyes, but she’s still annoyingly beautiful. Croi tightens the scarf around her face.

“Why are there two rings around your eyes? Are you Talamh or Tine?” Tinder asks both questions without pausing.

“Why are you asking me now?” Croi tilts her head curiously.

“I’m feeling better now,” the pixie confesses. “When I feel better, I ask questions.”

“Your luck is bad because I don’t feel like answering questions,” Croi replies. She doesn’t know the answer to the question anyway.

“Oh. That’s… I will accept that. You can tell me when you feel like answering questions. I’ve never seen anyone with double rings.” A few more tears slip out of her eyes, and she wipes them unceremoniously, pretending they don’t exist.

“Who lived in the village?” Croi doesn’t need to specify which one.

Tinder takes a deep breath and shudders. “This is Areed, the home of the blue-horned fauns. They used to mine the mountain for magick stones. We learned that in history.”

“Their disappearance doesn’t seem like history,” Croi comments.

“Yeah. It happened only twenty years ago. Apparently, they all died because of some disease,” Tinder says hesitantly. “The Forever King sealed off this village, but I guess his magick faded with his death.”

“Did what you see seem like they died of disease? What kind of disease would kill them all at the same time?” Croi says. She knows what happened to these blue-horned fauns. They were eaten by the beast in the mountain.

“I… don’t know what to think. If what I see is the truth, then it seems like we were lied to. But how can that be possible? Kin can’t lie.”

Truth has many shapes and sizes.

“Could the beast be classified a disease?” Croi asks her other self.

When you are desperate, anything can be a disease. Croi can feel the scorn in her other self’s words.

“You saved my life again. I don’t think I would have survived too long in the human world. I owe you a life debt. You can ask me for anything.” The pixie, unaware of the conversation occurring inside Croi’s head, sketches a wobbly bow in the air.

“Really?” Croi smiles a little. “Anything at all?”

“Yes. Of course.” The pixie’s wings flutter in the air behind her as she bobs up and down in front of Croi.

“Can you lead me to the Talamh Caisleán? I must be there before the Saol ceremony,” Croi adds.