It had been a while since the funeral. Azeal had finally begun to recover mentally from the suffering he had to endure. From the torture that seemed to last for eternity. He had accepted the deaths that haunted him in his sleep. Of the emotions that seemed to press down on him as they were released from this world.

But his shoulders were strong, and the burden, in his mind, small. With the support of his… of his new family, he would push past all struggles. Whether they be of his past, present, or the upcoming future.

Especially the future.

He knew he was going to see it in its full glory. The darkness it caused will be readily apparent to all who would just look. Those who chose to see the suffering, no matter how small, it caused to those that are within its cold grasp or those that watch it from afar.

He would see slavery.

He would find what he titled, the death of those living. For when Hope has no place in your heart, it shrivels and withers away. Hope is the nutrients that kept its delicate beauty lasting; the heart is the rose that can be mesmerizing, yet if left untended, will die; fading away.

He had decided, then, that no matter how little his five gold was, he would use it to save a carrier of emotion. To bring back to them the light they had thought to be lost forever. To show them, that, in a world filled with pain and tears, there are those of kind hearts.

Those willing to help others for nothing in return.

He would extend his hand out, and they must reach to grab it; if they sought it.

It took them nearly a month to get to Thols after the funeral. When they reached the outskirts of the city, they were met with many farms; islands in a sea of grass. But, unlike the hospitality Azeal had believed would be seen, they hurried their way towards the city.

For the most prolonged period of time, he constantly wondered why they would move without stopping when they could ask for the housing from those with massive lands?

When he asked Roland, he learned that they struggled more than others. Continually fending off hungry beasts and cruel-hearted men. They were suspicious of all that came near their land and any who trespassed where deemed as threats unless they carry a ducal or royal flag. Completely going against Harold's wish of secrecy.

As they moved on, he would glimpse the shadows of armed farmers waiting to defend their land from others. It saddened Azeal greatly to see so many traumatized almost beyond recovery. They each had long forgotten common courtesy and hospitality.

The longer they moved, the less armed farmers they saw, and the more customarily dressed the people became. Some moved towards Thols, and others to meadows to set up camp. Only huge caravans and mercenary groups headed that way, though.

But, what caught his attention more than anything before, were the lines of slaves that walked on the side of the paved road. All with heads hung low and back hunched; as though they carried burdens far surpassing their ability to handle. Azeal’s Emotion Sight flared greater than ever before. He thought he had seen death, but this was completely different. All the emotions they had were encapsulated into a ball; an amalgamation of each they had felt, with no distinction between them all.

The orbs of emotion hung near their stomachs, swinging around, as though they were held by a lonely string. So very close to breaking. Surrounding their emotions was a blackness that seemed like tar. Slowly circling the orb like a predator; waiting for the perfect time to strike.

Unlike death, there was no lack of everything. No dark and dull existence. Instead, it was filled with what he intuitively knew was hopelessness and despair. They looked exactly the same, the only difference between them was the way they spun. Hopelessness spun clockwise, and despair, counter to it.

There were those that had not been broken yet. With emotional scapes that were nearly normal. But those scared Azeal even more. They were not filled with righteous anger, wrath, or an unending hunger for vengeance. No, they were filled with hate.

A dark and ugly red that covered their hearts, eyes, and minds. Consuming all other emotions that neared it. Azeal itched to reach out and drag the hate away from all other emotions or to jump off of Buttercup and assault the slavers. Freeing the slaves that had been broken, but he knew better. He knew it would not be easy, and that it would take a long time to help someone regain what they had lost to the blackness of hopelessness. But, he would!

It was a mission he was determined to accomplish no matter how long it took. He would reach out, and hope they would as well.

Without noticing, they had reached the gates of Thols. Once Azeal broke out of his musing, he stood in awe at the size of the walls that surrounded the bustling city. He did not know how tall they were, but they seemed to be forty to fifty feet in length; that was in his uninformed opinion.

“Hold!” called a heavily armored guard that oozed authority.

“You have no flags raised, yet you pass the line towards the gates of Thols? Why, pray tell, should I not slay you where you all stand?!”

As he spoke, many guards that were dressed similarly, though less decoratively, gathered behind him in a tight phalanx formation. Each prepared for battle with a spear or halberd.

Azeal watched as Harold, who had covered himself with a cape to hide his identity, rode with Roland, who was dressed similarly, towards the guards. After a quick exchange, which had the guard begging for forgiveness and a blessing, they both quickly gestured to move forward past the massive gates, then through the inner portcullis and finally into the city.

Azeal looked on in awe at the hustle and bustle of the city. Everywhere he looked merchants were hawking their wares in stalls, children playing, and even the odd thief in rags. Buildings of stone surrounded the center of trade, making it almost enclosed. There were few dark and narrow allies to pass through, but they made for a dangerous prospect for the ordinary person. Other than those, there was only one major road that moved straight towards a second wall.

That was presumably the Franks home estate. Their castle on the hill.

As they moved farther into the city, a particular call within the backdrop of noise caught Azeals attention. A certain merchant selling his product. When Azeal finally found him, he saw what he could not have imagined.

A slaver selling his slaves.

But, what made him truly focus on the issue was a certain light that begged for his attention. Calling out to him with pulses, hoping beyond hope that someone out there would hear its cry for aid. That they may rescue them from their terrible fate.

Unable to stop himself, he jumped off Buttercup. The world began fading away. The voices that called out to him, whether they be words or bellows from his mount, they all disappeared into the background. There was something far more critical now then the modicum of secrecy they had chosen to keep.

As he ran, the emotion calling out for help began to show. Becoming clearer and clearer every hurried step he took. Until he saw it, in its fully radiant visage. It, like the other slaves, and it was an it at that point to Azeal because all he could see were the emotions, had an orb of emotion entirely encircled by a maelstrom of black tar.

But this time there was a massive difference. Within this orb was nothing but a white hope. A light that shined and pulsed majestically. What was love, acceptance, and content but variations of the most beautiful? What are colors but parts of the whole, split into many so that we may understand it, truly.

It was the same to Azeal at that moment. Its pure white light utterly mesmerizing him. Taking hold of his body and mind, then acting as it pleased.

He broke out of his reverie, to finally see who stood behind the emotion. Behind the single, most beautiful thing he had ever seen was but a little girl. She looked no older than twelve years of age. Entirely innocent from the evils of the world. Her face shone with an innocent and pure confidence, as though she knew someone or something would definitely save her from this most horrible fate.

“-- One gold and thirty silvers! One gold and thirty silvers! Going once! Going twice! And S-,”

The slaver called but was rudely interrupted by Azeals booming voice.

“Five gold pieces!” He blurted out, not even hearing the actual price she was being sold. He didn't care at that moment, all he could think about was getting her away from the darkness that crept towards her. He was determined to save her.

Sputtering the slaver stood there for a while, attempting to comprehend what he had heard. Finding his voice again, he smiled an enormous grin, “Five! I repeat five gold pieces! Going once! Going twice! And Sold to the massive man in the cape!”

Unable to wait anymore Azeal hurried to the girl, where he found her smiling up at him. As though she had known the entire time he was going to be there.

Extending his hand, he spoke with as much solemnity as he could muster,

“I give you two choices, little one. I can help you regain what you had lost in scape, and in return, you must reach out and accept my offer. Or you can walk away now to an uncertain future.”

He waited, afraid what the answer might be. Worried she might choose to walk away; never looking back. He was afraid he would be deprived of such emotional magnificence. Waiting with bated breath, he finally heard her answer.

She grabbed his hand with her tiny fingers and in a voice barely over a whisper, she spoke with confidence that made Azeal’s back shiver.

“Mother told me when they took me away and sent her to a lovely place, that The One never forgets those who are hurt and pray to him with tears running down their faces. And I heard her pray that no matter where I go, or who takes me, that in the end, I would be free.”

He watched her smile without restraint, as though he had fulfilled her greatest dream.

“And you came right when that ugly man tried to buy me. I knew you were coming.” Giggling an innocent laugh, she continued uninterrupted

“Mother told me before they took her, and she never lies.”