Amadan kept the name. He couldn’t hold on to his true name. Even his name was invalid to this world, like a broken curse, a name forbidden to be spoken - he wouldn’t try.

Zula didn’t chase or showed her appearance. He didn’t find Fez as well, his good friend who had finally been reborn. He was happy about that, and he hoped that he would find Sheen as well. The two deserved to be reunited in a world that had a dying sun
.
He was back at the Inn and he took all of his stuff. He took his bag with him, walked out of the Inn, and didn’t look back. He went to a store and bought the necessities he needed for travel. It was best that he didn’t leave a note or took the things that were given to him. He was out of money by the time he bought a horse from a stable, and the horse was what he needed to travel the roads.

I thought we’d be walking, Lanon whispered, the voice sounded laughing. A bleak walker, no, a horse rider now?

“Horse rider huh, the horse in that world went extinct after ten years. All the mounts were either eaten or killed since the miasma affected the animals greatly. Most of the time we had to put them down since they’ll get corrupted by the miasma.”

What are your plans, Lanon told him inside his head, the voice was clearer. The world is vast and yet we know that one day she will find us. No matter what world it is, she always finds us. The Bleak walker's curse won’t let go and she will find a way. I don’t know what fragment she is, but as long as she remembers then there is no way for us to be free. We are bound to repeat the loop the moment we get too close to her. That is the sad truth that we had seen. You saw it, right?

The memories flashes like strips of film in front of him. Amadan clamped his legs on the horse, whipped the horse, and rode until he was far from the gates of the city.

“We are running away,” Old Salvatore walked, like a phantom that haunts him, alongside him were the ghosts of the dead, the walkers, and the many faces that he had. They all paraded themselves with Old Salvatore in the lead. “We always do, we leave people behind and jump into the fray without fault. We abandoned their lives and moved on. Do you know why?”

“I don’t.”

“Because we fear overwhelming love. We fear what she is and what she had become. In every memory we saw how she would turn, there’s no telling how she would snap and tick in this world. Killing her means nothing, and the only way to not get involved is to find a way to separate the identity of the Salvatore. Keep your name, and walk the bleak path until you reach the path. The True one had finally escaped true the works of the Eon-Father. He had spent too much time and had done what we could not.”

“Attract a powerful being to take us away?”

“That too. But keep out of her sight. Still, I wonder how long can we hold out? Remember, she always finds a way and she will find her purpose as well. When she finds that purpose then the world will have to bend for her. She’s that strong.”

Amadan rode further from the city. Stay, boy,” he said, pulling the reins of his horse. He saw a train of caravan merchants, he sidled near one merchant and hollered. “Hey, what’s with the crowd?” He scanned the caravan again.

“Burt Golems,” the merchant snorted, looking at him with flat eyes. “Adventurers are kicking it, and more comes. Burnt Soldiers have been trying to seize the roads around.”

Not far from where he was were the figures of Burnt Humanoids fighting a group of adventurers. The adventurers fought the monsters, not a flinch or fear in their eyes, these were men and women who had seen the life of danger and adventurers.

The adventurers didn’t take long to defeat the enemy. Amadan pulled the reins of his horse and followed the caravan train. The merchant who was smoking his clay pipe looked sideways and asked. “You following, Wanderer?”

“I am if you don’t mind.”

“What do you do?”

“I was a healer.”

“You are not anymore?”

“I lost my medical box.”

“Your skills as well?”

“I don’t know.”

“I see. Can you fight?”

“I can.”

“Good, we don’t have to worry about you. We will be traversing the unknown plains for a while. You’ll be welcomed as long as you contribute.”

Amadan twisted on his saddle. “So you are traveling markets?”

“That we are, Wanderer. The plains are still unknown and barren. With the Burnt Ones coming out of the heart of the world, there’s so little that would dare to continue this dream of expansion.”

“The weather’s getting cold,” Amadan said. The merchant puffed two rings of smoke and turned his attention back to the road.

The ground changed into that of tall grasses. The caravan started traversing through a road with thick and tall grasses. Amadan rested on his saddle, and unconsciously peeked over his shoulder. “I ran away again.”

We always do, Lanon whispered.

Old Salvatore appeared with the Walkers, their red eyes the only thing that was colored in Amadan’s view of the world. “It’s our choice to try and get away. We find peace and not ourselves get tangled with her. But I warn you, she will find a way.” The voice seemed amused and proud. “She has a knack for meetings and that, I fear.”

“Are you okay, Wanderer?” The merchant asked. “You’ve been scaring me with your muttering, ah, the road, here, only for a few coins and you’ll have a new pipe.” He offered a bag of tobacco leaves and a clay pipe from one of his crates.

Amadan reached for the pipe and threw the last of his coins. “Trading my coin for a pipe and a bag of dried leaves.”

“Worth it, isn’t it?” said the Merchant.