It was a peaceful day on the road, with the sun warm above and the breeze gentle. The wind played across the plains and the face of the man resting on top of the tree, carrying the scent of the sea from the far north. It was a soothing day, to be sure. It wasn’t often known as one of the safest roads, but on this day, with the pleasant weather, it was hard for travelers to feel too worried.

Of course, much of this sense of comfort and safety came from the man himself. The few people who passed under the tree he occupied felt the peace wash over them, but they didn’t know where it came from. Only those that made the roads their home, not often settling in one place, knew the protection that was offered. They knew it to come from the God of Journeys, the Journeying Raven himself, Haere Hrafn.

Tall, broad-shouldered, and strong, Haere had been a nomad since birth. His people had been among the first of the mortal races to brave the wilds. The world had been a much more dangerous place then, with beasts of chaos and corruption roaming free. But they could not ignore the call of the journey, and so they’d continued to wander. Even after his people had settled in the ruined site of Gitna to make it their own, Haere had continued, taking once more to the roads.

Now, of course, long after he’d died, his soul continued to wander, reveling in the freedom and joy of the journey. A formidable warrior, he’d been strong enough to continue after his body had stopped. Sightings of the nomad spirit had spread, granting him more credence and followers. Today, he was the God of Journeys, a symbol of peace, protection, and hope to those that spent their lives outside of the cities and settlements of Ahya. Whether they prayed or not, his presence brought peace and comfort on the open road, so far from other comforts.

Occasionally, Haere would glance down at the base of the tree to see a traveler leaving him an offering. On some rare occasions, they would glance up at him, offering a silent bow of thanks. He gave a short nod of reply to their gratitude, and they were off, continuing in their journey. None stood long enough at the tree to disturb his rest, however. Believer or not, they knew that his resting spot was not to be corrupted with excessive noise.

That was what made his most recent visitor strange, Haere thought. The divine first became aware of the newcomer by his muttering. He spoke incoherently, his words low and indistinguishable. At first, Haere simply assumed that the man was deep in his drinks and stumbling down the road to sober up. But he was a long way from the nearest ale house, definitely far enough that he would have sobered up on his own.

What was more, Haere had never seen the same kind of clothing that the stranger wore. It was almost religious in nature, a long sweeping robe that covered him from head to toe. A deep hood hid his hair from view, and a crumpled leather mask covered his face, shaped like the beak of a bird. Strange clothing indeed, he thought. Curious, Haere pushed himself up into a sitting position and watched as the man came closer.

The man had his hands out in front of him, and he walked slowly as if trying to grab hold of something that wasn’t there. And all the while, he continued to mutter. Haere wasn’t sure if he was muttering to himself or talking to somebody that only he could see. He wondered if the person was mad. It was rare, but some travelers were known to lose their minds on the roads, to suffocate under the loneliness and retreat so far into their heads that they were lost to the outside world.

The man in the mask walked closer and closer, still moving uncertainly, and muttering to himself. Then, suddenly, once he was about two yards from the trunk of the tree, he lunged forward, shouting something. Haere couldn’t even muster enough time to think of warning him before the man slammed face-first into the bark. With a heavy thud that sent a shudder through the tree, he bounced right off, landing on his backside with a grunt.

Haere jumped off the tree, landing lightly on the grassy slope, and hurried over to check if the man was alright. But as he got closer, he was stopped in his tracks by the first coherent sentence the man had yet said. “Why is there a tree here?”

Bewildered, Haere stared at the stranger. Could he really not see the tree? Even someone absorbed in their own thoughts would have seen it coming. Even if they couldn’t, they certainly wouldn’t be surprised that a tree, of all things, would be growing in the wilderness. It wasn’t as if trees were a rare sight in this area of the country. The only logical explanation, he thought, was that this stranger was indeed not in his right mind.

“Are you alright, friend?” He said, moving to stand in front of the man. His mask had been crumpled even further by impact with the tree, but apart from that, he seemed uninjured. He held out one hand to help the man to his feet. “You weren’t watching where you were walking, were you?”

The stranger gave no hint that he’d heard Haere or that he even knew there was another person there. He simply pulled his mask straight, or as straight as he could, and pushed himself back onto his feet. His voice had been reduced back to the incomprehensible muttering again, and he took a hesitant step in a different direction, making his way slowly down the gentle slope away from the tree.

His confusion only increasing, Haere made to follow the man. But at that exact moment, he felt a stab of pain in his mind. For less time than it took him to blink, the world around him shifted drastically. The gentle golden sky turned bright poisonous green, and ordinary things like the trees and the tall grass took on different shapes. No longer gently swaying in the wind, they reached out for him with sharp, crooked fingers, trying to grasp him.

He blinked, and the illusion faded, but not before he’d summoned his weapon, the thick war staff that he only used in times of real need. The only problem was that there were no enemies for him to fight. The day was as peaceful as it had been when the stranger had first appeared. Was it the stranger who’d attacked him? He was the only possible source, and yet there didn’t seem to be any hostile intent from the man. Haere’s curiosity only grew now, and he took a few steps closer, following the man. If he truly couldn’t see the world around him, then surely there was no harm in watching him.

The stranger meandered his way down the gentle slope and into the tall grass that dominated the planes, holding his hands before him in an attempt to spot any other potential obstructions. Not that he’d find any, as the next tree he’d risk hitting was close to a thousand yards away. Haere returned the war staff to its casual form, a sturdy walking stick, and took off after the stranger. He had nothing better to do, and this seemed like an interesting way to pass the time.

The stranger made random turns as he walked on. At random times, he’d sink out of sight amongst the grass, only to reappear a second or two later, his muttering a little louder than before. It was only in following his footsteps exactly that Haere noticed the ruts, often filled with water, that the stranger had stumbled into. How could he be so oblivious that he couldn’t notice such obvious things as trees and tripping hazards?

Then, after a length of time, he wasn’t particularly proud of, Haere himself stumbled but onto the truth of the matter. It wasn’t that he was oblivious by choice. His mind was so occupied that he couldn’t make sense of the real world around him. He hadn’t seen this in a human before, but it was possible to be cursed so strongly that you were locked in your own mind, lost to the world. Haere felt a stab of pity hit him in the heart now. Someone had cursed this poor man. He’d have to help if he could. Even if he couldn’t, he could bring him to the nearest town and find a healer there to tend to the man.

He quickened his pace, trying to catch up to the stranger. It was an easy task, being the God of Journeys. Small inconveniences like tall grass, clumps of roots, or uneven ground didn’t bother him at all. In no time at all, he was beside the stranger and saw his clothing in more detail. It wasn’t really his clothing, he noticed. His entire body under his long coat was wrapped tightly in what looked like bandages, except that the enchantments on the fabric were all too obvious. Those were sealing runes.

“How long have you been afflicted with this curse?” He asked, expecting no real reply. And, of course, none came. “You poor soul. Let’s see if I can’t help.”

He reached out to clasp the man’s shoulder to feel out the magic that was affecting him. The instant he made contact, his perception of the world shifted again. He and the stranger were standing alone on a thin, perilous path. It was unbearably hot where they were, and all around the path was a vast ocean of boiling magma. It was as if they stood at the peak of the world’s largest volcano. Smoke rose in the air around them like a physical wall, and it was clogging his nose, threatening to overwhelm and suffocate him. Even as a Divine, he could feel the mortal fear that came from such a dangerous place.

He released his grip on the man’s shoulder by instinct, and the vision faded, leaving him once again in that gentle, golden plane. The breeze felt ice-cold against his cheek in comparison. What in the world was going on here? Taking a deep breath, he touched the man again, curious to see more of the hellscape this stranger was trapped in. But now, instead of the hot smokey scene of magma and smoke, they were lost in the middle of a roaring blizzard.

The air was frigid around them, and he could feel his body slowing down under its assault. That was a new feeling, as he’d never suffered adverse effects under the weather before. But here, trapped in this illusion, he was stripped of his power, unable to do more than shiver. He wanted to curl into a ball and lie there forever to keep his limited body heat trapped in one place. But his sense of reason and common sense prevailed, allowing him to keep the thought that it was an illusion at the front of his mind.

Only one thing could cause a mental illusion this powerful, Haere thought. Not just magic but its source. Chaos. He’d seen, long ago, what chaos could do to a man’s mind if left unchecked. In the early days, many a mortal had lost themselves completely at the touch of chaos, being consumed within minutes and trapped within their own nightmares. Those situations, while different, were identical in effect, trapping the victim in their own personal world of madness. Few survived the ordeal, even in these more modern times, and none were unscathed.

“Let’s get you out of this, my friend,” he said kindly. With a firm grip, he stopped the stranger from walking further. He reached down inside himself for that elusive source of his power, the divine enchantment he’d crafted just before he’d died a mortal death. It moved to his command at once, as he’d always known it to.

In a flash, the blizzard was gone. Haere looked around, perplexed. He’d intended to break the illusion completely and return them to the real world, but that wasn’t where they were now. They were in an infinite space, surrounded by a blank white emptiness that hinted at things yet undiscovered. He was convinced that if he tried, he could walk forever and never find the edge.

Except that he wasn’t alone with the stranger. There was a third being there. Tall, pale-skinned, with dark hair and sweeping dark blue robes. Haere recognized the attire at once as the robes of an Archmage of the College. What was one of them doing there? Had he also noticed the stranger suffering and come to assist him? Something told him that wasn’t the case, judging by the man’s expression.

The archmage looked at Haere in undisguised annoyance, sneering. “Now, what have you done? Surely it would have been better to leave him in his own mind, where he couldn’t harm others.”

“Who are you?” Haere asked. In an instant, his staff had returned to its original purpose, for war. He didn’t present it towards the mage, sensing that it couldn’t do anything, but it still helped him feel like the warrior he once was. “Why have you cursed this man? Have you no honor?”

“I haven’t cursed him at all,” the archmage said, smoothing the front of his robes. There was no need to smooth them as they were in perfect condition, but it was a very superior gesture and communicated a world of disdain for the person he was speaking to. “I just introduced him to a little chaos. He’s quite healthy, and he can weather it just fine.”

“As if!” Haere snarled, feeling the anger wash over him. It had been many years since he’d been driven to rage, he thought. It was not a welcome feeling, even if it was appropriate. “No mortal can survive touching raw chaos without protection! Any mage worth his salts would know that.”

“Ah,” the mage said, sneering at something that Haere didn’t know. “But you see, he is not a mortal. He is something more. So he won’t be damaged.”

“What?” Now it was the stranger that spoke, seeming to come to his senses. “What’s going on? Where am I, and who are you people?”

He was peering back and forth between Haere and the stranger, then seemed to notice Haere’s free hand on his shoulder. He pulled away, breaking the grip. Strangely, this didn’t kick his visitor from the illusion. The stranger shook his head, putting one hand to his mask. “No, no, no. You’re not going to fool me, Chaos. I know this isn’t real. I won’t be tricked again!”

Haere frowned at the man, then at the Archmage. “You’re not the one who cursed him?”

“Oh, I was,” the man admitted easily. He seemed highly amused with the scene. “But it seems that I’m not the only one interested in keeping him out of the way.”

Haere felt something closing in around them and knew the truth of it at once. The void around them wasn’t as empty as he’d thought. No, it was full of something. Or, more accurately, someone. Some powerful entity was lurking there, just out of the range of their senses, and it was looming more powerfully than even he, as a Divine, could hope to.

“Chaos,” he breathed. It had been over a thousand years since he’d last felt the touch of that particular entity. Not since the old war between Ancients and their enemies had he known the feel of that creeping sensation on his skin, or that pressure on his mind, threatening to unravel any sense of reason or order in his thoughts. Now he truly understood what this poor stranger was suffering under.

Fortunately, for the two of them, at least, Divine magic had been created as a direct counter to the forces of Chaos and Corruption. Disorder stood no chance against the stalwart rigidity of Divine Magic, with its strict rules and infallible predictability. It was the one thing that could not be corrupted or turned chaotic. This was an easy fix, even if only temporary.

He slammed his war staff on the ground, and, though there hadn’t been a ground to slam it into a second before, he found one. The staff thudded onto the tightly packed earth of the plains, and in the blink of an eye, the illusion faded. The archmage vanished, as did the oppressive, maddening presence of chaos around them. The stranger let out a gasp of shock and shuddered as he felt the chaos leaving him, his mind free for the first time in many years.

“What the-” he began, trying to come to terms with this bizarre change. “I’m… I’m free! You broke me out of that illusion!”

But Haere knew that it wasn’t true. Chaos may have been shoved away, but it was still there, weak but persistent. A vague feeling of unrest and irritation hung in the air around them. Then came the voice. The mystical, ethereal voice that whispered in the minds of men, driving them from the path of sanity. It crawled against the skin and reverberated in the mind in a very disturbing way.

“That is my toy, Divine,” the voice said. “I won’t have you taking him from me.”

“You can’t touch him without destroying me, Chaos,” Haere said, his voice firm. He finally understood the situation and had the perfect counter. “Which we both know is impossible. You have no power here now. Leave him be, and find another toy.”

“Perhaps the next will be you,” Chaos whispered back. “If you want to save him, you’ll have to save yourself as well.”

And out of the air around them, figures began to appear. They weren’t… They couldn’t possibly be normal creatures. They were misshapen caricatures of normal creatures with shining blue eyes. Wolves, large birds of prey, and even a few larger beasts. They reeked of chaos, and their roars and growls were oddly dissonant, with an ethereal, non-physical tone to the sounds they made. But they barely had a second to ponder the odd nature of the monsters before they charged.

The birds were first to move, swooping in and aiming for the eyes, throat, and other exposed bits. But Haere was more than a match for them. He went on the attack, his war staff whirling around him in a deadly blur as he struck. The incorporeal forms of the animals were shredded into a mist. Even the wolves had no hope of harming him as they swarmed in around him. He swatted them away with ease, enveloping himself in a thick mist of their remains.

One by one, they rushed Haere’s position, intent on attacking either him or the stranger he was protecting. But, quite apart from being a Divine, he was also a master with the war staff and a seasoned warrior. Each attack failed to and, and each beast was shredded with one well-placed blow, down to the very last of them, a massive deformed tiger whose growl was cut short, as it was quickly returned to dust.

“Marvelous performance!” The stranger said. “You’re really strong!”

Laughter rang out from the air around them. It was more of that ethereal sound, so quiet that they could barely recognize it but still felt that chill against their skin. Haere gripped his staff firmly. “We’re not done yet.”

“Quite correct, little Divine,” Chaos murmured in their ears. “You are strong, I will give you that. Even my toy shows great strength, being able to stave me off for so long. I wonder, how will you fare against that which you are trying so hard to save?”

Haere turned to see the stranger, just a second too late, twitch in an unnatural way. Then a burst of dark mist erupted from his frame, lipping through the gaps in his enchanted clothing. It slammed into him with brutal force, knocking him off his feet. He just barely had enough time to lock his mind down before he hit the hard-packed earth, at which point the grass began to wrap around his body. So they weren’t in the real world, after all, he realized. They were still within the stranger’s mind. The infection of chaos went deeper than he’d expected.

“Not to worry,” he grunted. He gave a mighty tug, breaking free of the grasping blades of grass. Now his arms were free. In a flash, he’d shrunk, transforming into a raven, soaring into the air far too fast for the grass to catch. He banked sharply to the right, turning around again to face the stranger, then dove in. The black mist that was controlling him sensed his attack, shifting to intercept. He could almost laugh at how easy it made it.

Inches before he made contact, he resumed his original form, dropping beneath the mist, staff in hand. With one vicious upward swing, he slashed the war staff through the mist, severing its connection to the stranger and breaking it apart in the same motion. It let out a shriek of agony as it faded, but then… silence.

“Now we’re done,” he said, letting the staff touch down on the ground lightly. His breath came a little faster, but he was by no means winded. As expected, he’d enforced order onto the chaos without trouble.

“You’ve saved me,” the stranger said. “Thank you so much. I couldn’t push the chaos back on my own before.”

“I haven’t purged it completely,” Haere admitted ruefully. “There are still remnants of chaos inside you, and you’ll have to get those under control on your own.”

“Still, thank you. Without your help, I would still be consumed. You’ve given me a great gift.”

He turned to look around them, and Haere mirrored the reaction. Without quite realizing it, they’d exited the man’s mind and were standing in that gentle breeze once more. The grass swayed soothingly around them, and the sun basked them in the last warm rays of the day.

“I’d forgotten how beautiful it was,” the stranger said in an awed voice. “I know I won’t be of my own mind for long, but I’ll cherish this dream.”

“Well, before you lose your mind again,” Haere said, “What is your name? I will remember you and check in on you again in time.”

“I’m-” the stranger hesitated as if reaching far into his past to fetch the name. “I’m Rorschach. I’m, or rather, I used to be, a nomad healer.”

“A nomad?” Haere asked, pleasantly surprised. Nomads were the closest to his heart as a Divine. Any who found peace in the journey was welcome to him. He performed a brief blessing gesture in the air between then. “Well then, Roarshach, the nomad healer, I offer you my blessing. May you travel the world in safety and find peace at the end of your long journey.”

Rorschach blinked, curious to find that he felt a wash of peace overcome him. It was a very pleasant feeling. Who had just done that? He looked around for the source of it, but found nothing. Something about… a journey? Had that been the man’s name? He was sure of it, but at the same time, he wasn’t sure that the man had really been there. He let out a long sigh and started walking again. Maybe it had just been another hallucination. Then again, perhaps not.