LIGHT of first morn dawned on the town, and the group woke up early and made their way to the central square near the Fiyukthi. It was foggy that day, and the mist rose in the air, obstructing but being colored by the sun. The dew had wet much of the ground, and splashes could be heard among the footsteps.

Residents of the town, both commoners and aristocrats, slowly gathered in the square, and before them stood a company of soldiers, the captain, Lord Prelūshyodhaḥm, his daughter Jūtihiḥ, and the former high priest Furutham. There was commotion and chatter among the residents, many sad over what was to come, but some sent ill words toward the way of the former high priest. He made no response and hung his head low, not wishing to make eye contact.

The captain then shouted aloud, and the crowd grew silent. He bent to his lord, and Prelūshyodhaḥm stepped front with his scepter in hand. He struck the ground three times and called Tūmbṃār to stand next to him. The two looked to one another, and Tūmbṃār feigned calmness, though he was anything but calm. He was sure of what the lord would say and had no intention of diverting himself from the verdict.

Prelūshyodhaḥm cleared his throat and said, “For the crimes that Furutham has committed, he shall be stripped of his position as high priest and confined to the castle. Unless a future ruler changes his fate, never shall he leave those grounds, and ever shall he remain shackled by hands and feet. He shall continue his duties at large in the castle as a servant under constant watch. But should another disturbance be effected by him, know that surely he shall be put to death. This is my decree!”

He shifted his head, surveyed the crowd, and asked, “I trust there are no objections?”

The boy’s face showed disbelief, and all in the vicinity were in the like shocked, yet not one uttered a word in opposition.

Commotion and chatter ran in the crowds for some time until Furutham, who was biting his lips, said, “Lord! I cannot assent to such leniency! I have wronged you and everyone here; to what reason do I owe to be forgiven as such?”

“Do not think you have been forgiven or freed from punishment,” said Prelūshyodhaḥm. “Though what I have stated might seem lenient, it is far from it. Night and day shall you work with nary a sign of rest, and you shall teach the others how it is to heal my daughter. Little did I know that you were the one who had kept her alive all this time; hardly did you speak of it, and when you did, you would say, ‘It was by the Gods’ grace that she was healed’. I assume you had your own intentions, and why my daughter never spoke of it seemed to have to do with you asking her to keep quiet on such things. But regardless of intention, you can thank her for informing me of it. Some might think even now that death should be better handed, but I shall make this exception here. It is duty of every regent, nay every Ṃārhaḥn to keep their line secure, and for good reason. I think not that the townsfolk would be happy were a succession crisis to arise with the death of my daughter.”

Furutham was quite shocked but Jūtihiḥ gave him a smile and his face relaxed a little. The commoners and aristocrats alike were as well content with this result, including those who had earlier insulted the high priest. They did not much desire anything related to the chaos that had occurred in ages past when the continents were split. Many of them also pitied the frail daughter of their lord and had grown quite fond of her in the years since her birth, even though she seldom came outside.

The lord shifted his view to Tūmbṃār whose face brimmed with happiness.

Prelūshyodhaḥm sighed yet laughed afterward and said, “I suppose to an extent, you have gotten your wish, though I cannot let him travel with you, not only for the sake of my daughter but also for your company. He shall have to regain my trust on this matter.

“Be, however, cautious young boy; endearing as you are, there shall come a time where things shall not go your way. Think of what happened here as mere chance, and do not expect others in positions like mine even to give the ear to listen.”

The boy gulped and then asked, “Is this all that it took to change your mind?” And without thinking, he added, “Was there a being involved?” and he immediately closed his mouth.

Prelūshyodhaḥm bent to the boy and, in a soft voice, said, “I was unsure whether you would ask it, but those words you spoke were enough to confirm my suspicions. Know that it was not my daughter nor anything else that was said during the trial that caused this shift. I could have very well found another like Furutham to help with my daughter’s illness, of that I am certain.

“Nay, it was something far more mysterious. I did have a dream, and in that dream, I saw a being with hair of ash, eyes of blood, and a deathly face. He did not look as a demon but more like a god, and his appearance was altogether great and terrifying. And I quivered in fear before him. Yet he approached and brought me up, and we conversed.

“He would not tell me who he was or how he had come here, but he did wish to speak of the matter concerning the trial. Gentle words came from his mouth, and they put me to ease.

“He said, ‘For now, do as the boy wishes and spare the high priest; more trials the boy shall face, and those trials shall strengthen and harden him. In this way, he must progress to reach the goal sought from ages past. Tell him what I have related to you when you give your verdict tomorrow. Know all I have said to be true when the boy asks of my involvement and closes his mouth.’

“The dream then ended, and I awoke. It seemed this entire thing was set up for you to have learned something by its end, and this being that I assume watches and guides you has had a hand in this matter. He seems much fond of you, and though I know little of his intentions, I advise you to stay on his better side and mindful of his words.”

The boy nodded and felt that he could rely on that being once more, but also felt a little frustrated that it was not his words or his actions that had truly led to this result. He could not tell at the time what the deathly being was. Ever since Iḷēhaḥ’s flight, he had resolved to have little to do with gods or spirits or other such entities but it seemed he would not be able to escape them forever. This resolve was not, however, new to him.

The words of the sage in this regard were, “Let not the Gods stifle or direct you as they will. You may see their guidance as an aid to you, but know that they have their own plans, ones that may not necessarily align with your goals.” Yet he also said something peculiar after that. “Yet should a light approach you, follow it to its end and be always attentive to what it says, for that light is even greater than the Gods’. It alone should surely guide you to your goal.”

The boy laid his thoughts to rest and the lord gave him leave. He stood next to his friends and watched as Furutham was taken away, looking just a little relieved. Jūtihiḥ was pleased with the result, and a gentle smile came over her face.

Prelūshyodhaḥm then said, “Now that these matters have been dealt with, it is time we say farewell to these travelers who have saved many folk in this town. All who would come, walk with us to the docks. And be not alarmed if you should see a giant wolf, for he is a companion of theirs.”

And so, the gathered townsfolk walked alongside Tūmbṃār’s group and the lord’s retinue as they made their way to the eastern port. The sound of their walking echoed across town, and those who stayed in their homes awoke to see the procession. Noticing Tūmbṃār and company, they quickly brought flowers to the windows and scattered them in the air. As the group walked through the main road, petals fluttered down, and there was much jubilance and mirth among the citizens, also with a few cries and sobs as many wished that they would stay longer. Yet the group had to make haste were they to catch up to Iḷēhaḥ.

Along the way, Tūmbṃār broke off from the group when he saw Lı̄vana and talked with her, while Feyūnhaḥ, Nakthaḥm, and Sanyhaḥmān conversed with Sāstishā and Hayutsu.

“Must you really leave now, Feyūnhaḥ?” said Sāstishā with a good measure of distress. “We have only known each other for a day. At least a week, nay, a month you should stay! It is not right for you to go so soon without taking my hospitality, you and your friends!”

She was indignant over the entire affair. Though she was glad for her husband’s return, it saddened her greatly to know Feyūnhaḥ would be leaving so soon. She had a lonesome look about her, and one would suspect she did not have many friends.

“I really can’t, Sāstishā,” said Feyūnhaḥ. “Were circumstances different, I would very much have liked to stay a good while, but we must meet up with our companion or I’m afraid we’ll lose her. It’s but a miracle for us that we could leave within a couple of days; we have little reason to hope that she should be waiting for us.”

“She is right,” said Nakthaḥm, “we can tarry no longer here, my lady. Haste is our priority for our destination awaits and this was but a brief stopping point along the way. I do hope you can understand.”

After much arguing and persuasion, Sāstishā at last relented and brought it up no further. But she did say, “Since you are heading north, perhaps I shall send some letters toward Pysefyaḷūr, though maybe I should send them elsewhere. Ah! Confound it! I will have to send them to as many locations as I can.”

To which her husband, plainly embarrassed, laughed. She afterward continued to talk with Feyūnhaḥ, asking about herself and her relations as if to get as much out of her as possible before their departure. Sanyhaḥmān and Nakthaḥm, meanwhile, talked with Hayutsu, and Sanyhaḥmān’s suspicions from the night before were confirmed.

“Nakthaḥm, I apologize in advance for my rudeness, but I must know. I thought long and hard last night about our conversation yesterday, and I ask, are you a demon? And not just a demon from here but one from the Lower Realms?” said Hayutsu in a whisper.

Nakthaḥm gave a surprised look and said, “Ho! You figured it out that quickly. Perhaps I gave too much of myself away.”

“I told you he’d find out soon,” said Sanyhaḥmān, shaking his head.

The demon shrugged and said, “It matters little; though you do not see it, my heart, my hands, and I suppose even my feet are shackled, no less on account of the boy and our lost companion. Even were I to desire havoc and chaos, I have not the power to unleash them. That said, I do not wish to cause a disturbance in Ārhmanhaḥ and I am here merely on the request that was made of me.”

Hayutsu patted him on the back and smiled, saying, “Regardless of intentions, you, along with your friends, saved me and many others. And I see you as a friend to me, so be not wary. Your secret shall remain with me, as I hope mine will stay with you.”

Nakthaḥm laughed and said, “So, it was you who figured out how to perform the summoning ritual. Though it matters little now, and I do not see you attempting anything of the like in the future, why is it you conducted research into such things? You should well know that what was done to the Servants shall reduce their years on this world.”

“To sate my curiosity. I had found a book a long time back, discussing such things, and it was only within the last few months that I began compiling all the information I could remember from it. But whatever its remaining contents were are long lost, and more for the better. When the high priest first approached me, I suspected little that he would put into practice what I had found,” said Hayutsu worried. “Though the Servants asked of this knowledge, I pray that I can be forgiven for having scoured over such things. I should hope such a thing is never attempted again.”

“As should I.”

When they reached the docks, a ship was berthed before them with two sails and enough space for several people. To its side was a large bowl-shaped vessel meant for the wolf, attached with thick rope. The sailors and their captain who were working then stopped and stood in front of the group.

The captain then spotted Nakthaḥm and said, “So, I see it was you and your friends who saved those poor folk.”

Nakthaḥm bowed to him and said, “Indeed it was. I thank you greatly for your assistance at that time, and apologize for my rude behavior.”

The captain surveyed him a bit and looked over his friends. “Quite interesting folk gathered here. A wolf, a boy, an Autirsāh, and a Vachūṇaṃār. And I suspect you’re not simply of the Mānuzhhaḥn.”

“You would be right on that account, captain. Though I shall keep quiet as to my nature; I do not much like having unwanted eyes shifted my way,” said Nakthaḥm as he clicked his nails.

“Well, I shan’t bother you with that, so be as you will. Good day, folks! We shall be off now; we thank you for helping this town, and should you come back, we’ll be ready to give assistance – though to be honest, I’d much rather you didn’t. I reckon that trouble seems to follow your way,” said the captain as he laughed.

Feyūnhaḥ and Sanyhaḥmān were embarrassed over that remark, while Nakthaḥm and Tūmbṃār laughed along with the captain. When the sailors had taken their leave, Prelūshyodhaḥm motioned to his guards and they stepped forward with garlands in hand. They put them on each member of Tūmbṃār’s group, and a rain of grain and petals scattered above them and descended upon their heads.

When the guards stepped back, Jūtihiḥ came forward and said, “Tūmbṃār, Feyūnhaḥ, Nakthaḥm, and Sanyhaḥmān, ever grateful we are for what you have done for us. Know that for all your lifetimes you shall be welcome here. Never can this debt be repaid. And to you Tūmbṃār, I thank you for all you have done in showing mercy to Furutham. Even before knowing who he was to me, you stood by his side and asked for leniency. And it would seem you are the one I should thank for this.”

She stepped close to Tūmbṃār and bent before him, about to clasp his feet before the boy leaped back. She was stunned and asked, “Why do you not wish for me to touch your feet? Please come back Tūmbṃār, and let me show you my gratitude!”

“I can’t!” said the boy, keeping his distance. “My teacher would be angry if I accepted it, and I fear what he’d do to me if he found out.”

“Your teacher is surely not here, so it should be fine,” said Jūtihiḥ.

“Oh, sure, he’s here,” said the boy with his arms crossed and nodding his head. “He likes watching over me, always making sure to keep me unaware of his presence. It’s as if his eyes can see all around and from leagues away.”

Jūtihiḥ laughed and said, “That sounds much like a monster!”

“It’s true!” said the boy, pouting. He looked around himself, and when his gaze was shifted away, Jūtihiḥ embraced him. He blushed and looked to the side, unsure what to do.

“Be careful, my friend. I hope that we shall see each other again—perhaps when I have become a lady and you a well-known traveler.”

He smiled and said, “I hope so too.”

When she let go of him, heavy footsteps could be heard, getting closer and faster, and the ground shaking with each step. A huge mass of fur leaped out a way down in the west and sprinted toward the group. When it was close, it slowed itself, and all the townsfolk, Prelūshyodhaḥm, Jūtihiḥ, and soldiers gazed up and beheld the largest wolf they had seen. Vrihkhaḥ was now back, having spent a long time napping at the gate’s interior. He licked the group, and the boy ruffled his fur.

“My! Such a large wolf! Where did you find him, Tūmbṃār?” asked Jūtihiḥ with great astonishment.

“We found him in the Cedar Forest. He was one of my first companions,” said Tūmbṃār.

The wolf then saw the vessel made for him and stepped inside. The bowl bobbed up and down before settling, and the wolf went back to sleep. When the group had finished conversing with their friends, they bowed and bid well all the people who had gathered there.

Lı̄vana said, “You were only here a short while, but I hope you shall come back. Friends, watch over Tūmbṃār, and keep him safe. And you, Tūmbṃār, ever do I hope that your journey is a delightful one!” And Tūmbṃār smiled and embraced her.

They embarked from the port, and when they did so, the people shouted aloud, “That One and All shall manifest in you!”

And the group shouted back louder, “As in you!” as their boat sailed into the horizon.