“Wake up,”

 

  Keldon grumbled as the sun peaked through the window. But, this time, he pulled himself out of the bedroll, having gotten used to the abrupt wakeups in the mornings. It had been a few days since both he and Salem had started their training regimen. And well… it could be better. Collecting various barks, fungi and roots had gone well enough as he’d had some experience doing so before (albeit not during his most pleasant experiences), but still, he remembered some of the tricks of the trade.

 

  It was the name magic where he was struggling. It was failure after failure. He kept getting launched at awkward angles and crashing his momentum. Although, after trying to resonate with the name of fire again, it seemed that the cosmic embodiment of fire approved of such tests in the name of progress, so he didn’t have to worry too much about rebounding magic in his efforts.

 

  But it was frustrating. Something was missing, something that he didn’t understand about the properties of the name of fire. And after Salem was all healed up, he’d be leaving Keldon to head to the DarkSpine mountains, and then he’d have to face this on his own. Progress needed to be made, and fast.

 

  Yet, a few hours later, Keldon was on his back, staring up at the sky in defeat. Again.

 

  This time, he’d underestimated his strength and pumped too much power into his left leg. It sent him into an awkward spiral in the air as he flopped face-first into the dirt, rolling over with a groan.

The wind rustled the tall oaks as a gentle breeze picked up fallen leaves and swirled them in the air, perfect for somber contemplation.

 

  “So, what’d I do wrong now?” asked Keldon, watching the birds soar overhead.

 

  Salem closed Keldon’s book of notes as he stroked his chin. It seems that the training was taking a toll on him as well. His cheeks had slimmed and his skin had lost a lot of his original youthful glow. No doubt because he’d been up until the wee hours of the night. Most likely cooking up his own antidote as well as thinking of training methods for Keldon.

 

  “Frankly, I’m unsure. There’s only so much that I can know from reading your notes and from what you tell me,” said Salem. “Traditional arcane studies states to go back to basics and retry image training among other things, but that doesn’t apply to our situation. And from the few stray outliers of illegal magic that I did know, they were either born with their abilities or had their abilities awaken through trauma yada yada. The point is, your guess is as good as mine.”

 

  “My guess is I’m boned then,”

 

  Salem raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? When did we learn to give up so easily?”

 

  Keldon furrowed his brow, simmering in his emotions. If only Salem knew that he’d always been like this. Salem was right though, underneath all his righteous posturing about wanting to be a hero, Keldon was exhausted.

 

  Without the name of fire to push him forward, he didn’t know if he’d even have been able to make it this far. Using the name of fire had massaged away some of the fatigue, soothing it with sweet lies of passion and spirit. But when the tide rises, so too do the crashing waves. Each time the name of fire left him, the fatigue that remained came back with a vengeance.

 

  So yet again, shame spurned him onwards. This was his chance to live up to the life that Luther had always wanted. A life that Luther could never have because of him. If only he had wanted it for himself.

 

  Without a word, Keldon pulled himself off the ground.

 

  “Atta’pup,” said Salem, walking over to hand him a flask of water. Keldon took a swig, quenching his thirst as he gulped down the leathery-tasting water.

 

  “Could you hand me my notes Salem?”

 

  Salem passed Keldon his notebook. Keldon thumbed through the pages of messy scrawls on the lined sheets. Recorded were page after page of scribbled notes in as much detail as he could recall of his visions. From his initial encounter with the master of the names in the sky to his talk with that thing and death.

 

A chill ran up Keldon’s spine.

 

  It was… daunting. He’d experienced these visions himself but still, they felt so surreal. Him? An actual hero? Even with his recent victory against Pudge, it was still hard to stomach. Flipping through the pages, creeping darkness scratched at the back of his conscience. A crackling strand of doubt that threatened to unravel his whole heroic identity. Perhaps… somewhere in the back of his mind, he’d hoped that the day he’d have to step up to be a hero would never have come.

 

  “Salem?”

 

  “Figure something out?”

 

  “No, not yet,” said Keldon “it’s more of a personal question. Remember when you said you wished that you had walked away from all this? What stopped you?”

 

  Salem thought for a moment. “Well, that’s a very loaded question pup. If you really wanted, I suppose I can go a bit into moral philosophy and normative codes of conduct agreed upon by society. Mind you, I haven’t had a refresher on that sort of coursework for ages now.”

 

  “No, not like that. Well, I mean sort of, but like, on a more personal level. What made you keep going?”

 

  “Ah, I see,” said Salem, taking another moment to think. “I suppose, for purpose.”

 

  “What kind?”

 

  “The revelatory kind, though it has been some time since I’ve thought about it,” said Salem. “It started with Emily, my wife. She was quite frankly, quite the goody two shoes as we grew up together. Always prattling on and on about me growing up to be a hooligan when I was your age.”

 

  As Salem spoke, Keldon could feel a warm fondness grow in Salem’s voice as he talked about Emily.

 

  “I was a very prideful youngin’, always rattling on about my future glory in combat at the front lines. No doubt a trait that had been instilled in me from the expectations of my father. But she hated it. Almost refused to marry me because she didn’t want to support the idea of me galivanting around battlefields and getting my head cut off in the process. One time, while we were still courting, we were supposed to have a portrait of us done the next morning. She made me promise that I wouldn’t train for at least a day prior, so I’d look presentable for the artist. But, being the selfish brat that I was, the peacekeeper examinations were only a couple of weeks away. I thought so long as I was careful about it, I’d be fine.”

 

  Salem scoffed, chuckling as if he’d remembered something funny.

 

  “Mind you, this is before the boom of the healing skill renaissance, so if I were injured, it’d take some time for me to look back to normal. Figures that session I’d end up coming home battered and bruised. She nearly cut me down right where I stood Emily was so furious. Took me weeks of groveling to gain her forgiveness. I’d given her a thousand roses and excuse after excuse after excuse. Turns out, the only thing she’d wanted was an earnest apology and a commitment to doing better.”

 

  Salem grinned at Keldon.

 

  “So, I did. I got down on one knee and asked her to marry me right then and there.”

 

  “Wait what?! So, then you got married?”

 

  “Bahaha, of course not! She was surprised my trousers could contain the weight of my bollocks she was so shocked. But a few weeks of sniveling promises and sworn oaths later, she agreed to marry me on a couple of conditions. One, that I’d never lie to her again. And two, that I would blaze the winding path.”

 

  “Blaze the winding path?”

 

  “Mmm,” grumbled Salem, nodding in amusement. “It’s always the cryptic women who end up seeing the future,”

 

  “What does that even mean?”

 

  “If you’re asking me? Honestly, I wouldn’t be able to tell you. She never told me either. But that’s sort of the point of it… Let me show you something.”

 

  Salem got up, stumbling a bit on his feet. Keldon shot up on instinct to help but Salem waved him down with a glare. A few minutes later, Salem returned with a small notebook in hand.

 

  “This…is her parting message. We’ve talked about this before but do you remember what I’ve said about her Prognosticatiomancy? It’s a mouthful, I’m aware.”

 

  “Somewhat,” said Keldon. “Has something to do with her losing her memories right?”

 

  “Right,” said Salem. Keldon could see the hurt poking through his steely front. “Not just her memories though. Every time she glimpsed into the past, she lost a bit of herself too. couldn’t remember her favorite flavor of iced cream here and there. Would occasionally forget she loved making candles for fun, it was the little things at first.”

 

  Salem’s face grew dark. “But then… well. The visions came. She’d wake up in cold sweats, trembling like a rabbit and recoiling at the slightest touch. And it only got worse. They-”

 

  Salem opened his mouth to speak, but his words got caught in his throat.

 

  “Forgive me. But I’d like you to leave an old man his memories. I want to remember her as the vibrant stunning woman that wanted the best for people. Not what she ended up becoming.”

 

  Keldon nodded in sympathy, giving Salem a pat on the shoulder.

 

  “Anyways, these notes… no matter how manic her thoughts were or why she kept going. These notes are her legacy. After my exile,they tore through our home and snatched nearly all her writings that she’d recorded. All except this one notebook.”

 

  Salem sat up straight, meeting Keldon’s gaze.

 

  “When I was chained down on my knees, staring up at the blade of the divine, it wasn’t death that grasped my mind. It was regret. Regret for not being able to do more for Emily, regret that this would be the end of her legacy, so on and so forth. But imagine the bittersweet feeling when the person that hated you the most spared your life.”

 

  “You asked what stopped me from walking away. It was guilt Keldon, just guilt.”

 

  “That’s it?!” asked Keldon. “Not because you wanted to avenge your wife or anything??”

 

  “Not at that moment no,” said Salem. “But the thing is, at that moment, guilt was good enough. It was enough for me to take a step forward. To look past where I was at then, and to push me to step out into the unknown to figure out where I would end up being.”

 

  “I’m not saying that you should let things like pride, guilt, and anger lead your life. But, when I wandered the continent a broken man, robbed of love, home, and purpose. The last thing I wanted to do was go on some rotten quest with no direction. But when months went by of drinking myself into a coma each day, I started to wonder to myself. Is this it? Is this all life has left to offer for me? Is this all I have left to offer to life? ”

 

  Salem held up the notebook, flipping to the front page where written in bold bright letters was the phrase “Blaze the winding path.”.

 

  “Emily had never told me what it meant, but that’s because I believe she wanted me to figure it out by myself. Life is series of ups and downs, Keldon. I don’t doubt that you know that. But when it comes to your own destiny, thing is, nobody really has the answers for you. Not even the ones that can see the future. The fear I had that I would disappoint Emilyin the afterlife was enough to get me started on my journey. And eventually, I traded those fears and doubts for nobler passions. Even now, they’re still in the back of my mind, and that’s okay.”

 

  “That’s… okay?” asked Keldon.

 

  Salem nodded. “That’s okay.”

 

  “When I first started the journey, I didn’t know a blasted thing about how I was supposed to go about any of this, like you. But I moved forward, keeping faith in Emily that one day, in my journey, I’d figure things out. Most sane people don’t live their lives knowing exactly what they’re going to do and when they’re going to do it. So sometimes, you have to improvise a little. You don’t need to be at your best to be a hero, you just have to put one foot in front of the other.”

 

  Salem sighed, leaning back against a boulder as he let his eyes wander into the sky.

 

  “If I could turn back time and take back what she’d done, I would. But the reality is, I can’t, and that’s something I’ve learned to live with. You don’t need a grand reason to be a hero Keldon, you can figure it out later. For now, putting one foot in front of the other is enough. Otherwise, you’ll end up going in circles.”

 

  Keldon looked out into the clearing as the wind whipped around the falling leaves in swirls.

 

  “Going in circles huh…” thought Keldon.

 

  The breeze picked up, whisking away the leaves and dropping them over the smoldering embers of their campfire. The residual heat from their campfire swooshed the leaves upwards, twirling them as they danced in the air. And, for a moment, it was as if they were unbound from the pull of the earth, spinning....turning... until finally, they landed with a graceful bow.

 

  Then, something Ars had said popped into his mind.

 

  “Through action, by carving open a new path for the river to flow, they may direct it towards a new destination…”

 

  “Carving open a new path for the river…. going… in circles,” muttered Keldon, gears turning in his brain.

 

  Keldon bolted upright, crossing his legs into a meditative position.

 

  Maybe. Just maybe…

 

  “Karyx.”

 

  Flames licked the ground around him, scorching the grass as a ring of fire circled his body.

 

  Passion hummed through his body as this time, Keldon paid close attention to the sound that resonated within. It was warm, comforting, yet seemed close to bursting at the seams. Heat coursed through his veins as he felt the steady movement of fire begin to take hold of him, and his mind.

 

  His senses heightened, hearing every rustle of wind on his clothes. Every blade of grass that brushed against the wind. Smelled every whiff of soil and pollen been picked up by the breeze.

 

  If he were to compare how he’d been using the name of fire until now, it would be like giving a toddler a fiddle. Sure, the toddler could make noise, it would understand how to make loud sounds, soft sounds, and everything in between. That’s what he’d been doing so far. He’d been forcing himself to make loud violent sounds with the name of fire, but there was no art to it. However, the difference was that a toddler wouldn’t know how to make music, but simply noise. In music, there were rhythms and beats and tunes, but eventually, they all built up to the climax of the song. Momentum, steadily building up the momentum.

 

  One thing that he’d been building up for the past few days in his training was how to use his momentum when he had it. He’d assumed that he had to spend that momentum when he had it, not allowing it anytime to sit. To build.

 

  This time however, when the name of fire hummed to him, Keldon listened.

 

  Instead of expunging all that passion, adrenaline, heat, and energy immediately, Keldon let it burn. He whispered to it the notes of his rhythms, suggesting melodies to the name of fire and opening a path for it to build up inside of him. And to his surprise, it listened back.

 

  His temperature exploded as energy filled him to the brim, listening to the name of fire as it beckoned. Sharp staccatos! Haunting melodic choruses that seemed to scream passion.

 

  His body trembled at the rumbling power. It was… It was…

 

  Pure. Raw! ENERGY!!

 

  Keldon took a moment, taking in a deep breath as the rhythms slowed down to a soft drum.

 

  And then he let the river flow.

 

  Tongues of fire licked the ground, spitting embers around him as the flame burned around him. Heat swirled within him to the surge of passion and rhythm, filling him with strength.

 

  His tattered clothing fluttered on his body, undamaged from the flames. His messy brown hair fluttering in the wind. And as he felt the rhythms build, he reflected on his past. His past wasn’t just an anchor, it could become something else. Something nobler!

 

  He let the name of fire deeper into his mind, bearing his soul to the cosmos once again.

 

  Keldon stretched out his hand, letting the shadows of doubt creep forward. But subconsciously, he pulled back his hand.

 

  He felt ashamed… still so ashamed. Of he was… of who he wasn’t yet. But… like Salem said, accepting who he was, for now, was the first step. He could… and would figure out the rest later… right?

  

  Keldon shook his head, filling himself with determination and slammed his hand forward, reaching into the aether. There was something there, as he took hold and wrapped his fingers around something. Something solid.

 

  So, he pulled. Keldon pulled with all his might as the echo of a bell rang out, accompanied by a loud pop.

  

  Then, he opened his eyes.

 

  In his hand was a dim lantern attached to the end of a shepherd’s staff. Dark black steel built up the body of the staff, carved with weaving intricate lines. Keldon could feel the deep undulating flame beneath the surface of the staff, as it glowed a fiery red light.

 

  It was beautiful.

 

  “Salem, look! I did it!! I did it-“said Keldon as he turned around.

 

  But something was wrong. Salem wasn’t moving. He was slouched on the ground, head resting awkwardly on its side.

 

  A pit dropped in Keldon’s stomach as he threw away the staff, and ran to the aid of his friend.