The Arsonist's Web

Chapter 4: The Illus

After his visit to Hell's Keep, Virgil decided it was time to make his way to Orfcynn. It was dark by the time the humanoid arrived at his destination, night having fallen just a few hours before. The starry sky lit the being's way as he traversed the woods, careful to steer clear of any towns; he didn't want anyone catching wind that the Gicela's mayor's husband was in the area. The weary traveler finally crossed over the last hill, and nearly collapsed with relief when he saw it: the Home Before Home.

At first glance, any onlooker would have mistaken the little tent as unstable and barely usable, but to Virgil it was the very definition of stability. It had been his "home before a home" during the war, his meetup spot with Jules when he was able to escape his dungeon. They'd talked for hours here, shared hopes and feelings, and one daydreamed of running away together. He was lucky that their dreams had come true, despite having been so short-lived. This tent was all that remained of their happy times.

Virgil was glad to know it had fallen unto good hands, when Finnegan inherited the land after the war. Technically speaking, the Home Before Home fell on Finnegan's outlined section of the land split between himself, Jules's Gicela, and Edison's Orfcynn. Finnegan immediately named it a historic landmark from the war, and forbid anyone from disturbing it. Virgil and Jules had always appreciated that, which was why Finn's band of wanderers were strong allies with Gicela.

Nonetheless, he was happy to see the ten in one piece, even after all the years that passed. He took one last look at history, then set about his business. He stepped over the poorly made fence of branches that surrounded the area in a square, making straight for the tent itself. Lifting up the flap, he found some unlit torches laced with single-use fire magic, ready for whatever the night did bring. Virgil took one such torch and lit it by striking it against the ground. In an instant, the tent was warmed by the glow of the flame.

His gaze slid by the tent flap; he froze. Maybe he was going crazy, or maybe he was losing his mind, but Virgil could have sworn he'd just seen something move outside the tent. It was almost as if the shadows from the fire had moved by themselves. It could've been my own shadow, the being thought. Yeah, that makes sense. He breathed out a sigh of relief. That's ridiculous, a shadow moving on its own. It's the stress from everything finally getting to you, isn't it? I wonder if-

"Well, if it isn't Virgil of Gicela."

The humanoid nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of another voice. He threw open the tent flap to find a familiar face: Clara of Orfcynn. Her small stature and tiny features took nothing away from how terrifying she looked in the dimly lit firelight. Her eyes bore holes into him with a fire stronger than the torch; her red hair only added to the effect.

Virgil clutched at his heart as he caught his breath. "Clara! You scared me," he gasped. "I was just-"

"You were just what? Trespassing on our land again?" the woman accused.

The sentient sighed, annoyed. "I don't have time for this argument today," he said flatly, turning his attention back to the torch. "I'm in the middle of something."

"Oh, so I'm not important then, huh?!" Clara shouted. Virgil rolled his eyes. Still holding the torch, he pushed past her and made his way into the makeshift yard, with Clara in tow. "Are you even listening to me?!" the girl yelled.