The church peeked out from beneath a heavy cover of vines and the moss-looking growth Isaac had seen everywhere since he’d come to the Endpoint. He couldn’t guess exactly how long the church had been there, but for the level of neglect that the church showed to accrue it must’ve been abandoned for more than at least a couple of years. Then again, everything he’d seen so far had looked abandoned. The forest leading up the church had been less crowded with junk than the scrapyard, but now the garbage lay in piles again.

He couldn’t feel his arm anymore. It had given him intense pain for hours since Crassus had snapped it between his fingers like a twig, and to have the pain vanish was a relief to be sure. But the thing that worried Isaac, was the complete absence of any feeling in his arm, not just pain. It probably meant blood loss or shock of some kind, Isaac wasn’t sure as to the exact cause, but it couldn’t bode well, no matter what it was.

Bloodloss could explain the dizziness he had experienced the last couple hours as well, but then again that could just be his sleep deprivation. Aster didn’t seem to be in much better shape either. In fact, she was worse off than him. Her ragged form in front of him heaved her body forward with every step as if she leaned against the raging torrent of a blizzard. Still she never faltered, not even once, as she lead the way.

Isaac couldn’t keep himself from closing his eyes everytime they fell on Aster’s hand. Despite his unwillingness to look he had during the last half hour seen enough glimpses of it to build an image in his mind. At least two of her fingers appeared to be… gone, just completely ruined. She limped, like Isaac, and her forehead was coated in dried blood, most likely she had a concussion as well. Isaac decided in the quiet of his mind that the church had to be their hiding place for the day. Continuing further was not an option. Isaac steeled himself for the inevitable confrontation.

But Aster did not lead them past the church. As they entered through the doorway, where the door leaned against its frame rather than hang from it, Issac wondered whether this had been their destination all along or whether Aster had come to the same conclusion he had. She seemed sure of herself, but then again she always had, no matter the situation. Except for maybe the time Crassus had walked out of the mists, talking as if he’d found his sanity somewhere out there in the churning blue haze. Isaac shivered.

Regardless, he wasn’t about to ask, he’d already settled on the church in his mind now. They could climb the clocktower and they would have an unobstructed view of the surrounding area. If they were lucky they could perhaps even spot Crassus for miles out. If he was still following them. Isaac pictured the golden soldiers in his mind. He imagined the added half second Crassus would need to puncture their armor and skewer them on his arm. Isaac shook his head.

He imagined the golden creature that had towered over them as the bearded buffoon with the strange accent and ridiculous scabbard talked. That creature could perhaps stand a chance. Though, Isaac had really no reliable data to back up that assumption. For all he knew, the creature would crumple like aluminum foil. He’d never seen the creature move beyond it’s lumbering pace either. Crassus moved like a freight train, if the creature was always as slow as it had been, then there wasn’t even a point to contemplate the fight. Crassus would simply ignore it.

The inside of the church was as worn down as the outside. The pews had been shoved up against the walls at some point and the altar was missing. The walls had probably been white once, but now they sported only a faded beige. In the center of the church a pile of ash marked the previous spot of a bonfire. Black soot stained the roof. Most of the windows were missing or shattered, including what must’ve been a rose at the back wall, behind where the altar would have been.

Aster didn’t head for the stairs up to the clock tower, instead she moved to the pews. She tried rocking one over but in her injured state only managed a small creaking noise.

“Help me with this.”

“Why? Lets move to the clock tower, we’ll have a great view of the area from there. We can take turns sleeping.”

Aster stared him down.

“What?”

She continued staring. Isaac sighed and moved to help her.

He soon got his unspoken question from earlier answered as she showed him both why they had come here and why she wanted to move the pews. Beneath the pile of wooden benches, several boxes sat hidden. Once she opened the closest one Isaac saw the food and supplies stored inside.

They looked like military rations, Isaac recognized the clear plastic wrapping and the unimaginative designs. But the writing was unreadable, consisting of very strange letters he’d never seen before. The symbols were arranged in spiral patterns rather than left to right. Even familiar things had to be unfamiliar in this place. He should never have come here.

The sight of bandages chased away his homesickness however. Together they gathered up the things they needed with a quiet focus. Still not saying a word between them they carried the food and bandages together using a discarded sack and moved to the spiral staircase at the back of the church.

The top of the bell tower had no bell or railing. The precarious height should have frightened Isaac. But it barely fazed him as the bone deep tiredness chased away all other feelings before it. He was however surprised to spot the storm still raging, just a few miles to the east. He nibbled a dry biscuit while he watched the storms, bunched up against one of the four pillars holding the bell tower roof above them. Blue lightning shot out of the blue mass of fog every ten seconds or so but the flashes made no sound, no rumble.

“I’ll take the first watch, you sleep,” Aster said.

And no sooner had she said so, when Isaac’s consciousness slipped away, and he slept.