The storm raged steady through the night.
The air smelled of gouda and damp rope when Joren awoke while the moon still shone bright. He decided to take a stroll through the houses for the sake of doing so, because sleep wouldn't come back to claim him for a while yet.
Man, this place is so damn weird. What went through his head when he decided to make this place out of cheese.
The sounds of cheesy clocks and boiling gouda resonated throughout the halls as he wandered. Joren passed by the fondue fountain, eyeing it with suspiciously hungry eyes.
Oh man, I really could go for some nachos. Better not, things probably rigged with sensors that would go off if I stuck a chip in there.
Joren found himself in the conservatory full of experimental batches, just browsing around and seeing what types of molds he was using. Sitting near the Pink Galaxy cheese batch, a small pair of paws clasped their hands together.
"Fascinating, isn't it?" said a voice, low and steady. "They say this one was abandoned for its volatility, but I find it rather elegant in theory."
Joren jerked back slightly. Who the hell was that? I don't remember someone else living here.
"There's no need to be startled, Mr. Merrick. I don't typically initiate conversations with newcomers, but you seemed curious. Most people who pass through here aren't exactly forward thinking."
Joren blinked, looking around. He spotted a small mouse walking upright and staring at him like a figure of authority. "Was that you talking?"
"Yes. Quite fluently, in fact." The mouse gave a polite nod. "My name is Erasmus the Second, but I would allow you to call me Eras if you prefer. I find it rolls of the tongue quite well."
Joren just stared at him. The mouse stared back, his small hands still folded, posture disturbingly dignified for something that weighed less than a spoonful of butter.
Joren tilted his head. "Wait a second. How do you know my name?"
Eras blinked, almost offended by the question. "It's hardly a question you should be asking, Mr. Merrick, wielder of the Supernova power. Your tale has spread farther than you could imagine in the past month."
"How do you..." Joren said, perplexed and a little frightened.
"Rumors move like mold in damp places," Eras continued. "Once the pieces fall into place, it's near impossible to stop without drastic measures. Your journey through Glazebend, Duskfen, and Dyer's Crossing have been circulating due to your, how do I say, flashy conclusions."
Joren's mouth tightened. "I didn't do any of that because I wanted to show off."
"Of course not, I wouldn't suggest that you did, I am merely pointing out that your reputation has begun to invoke feelings in the public. Some people fear Auspex like us because of the bad apples, others look to you in high regards for the things you have done."
Joren stammered. "Wait... people look up to me?"
"Certainly, Mr. Merrick. You saved three towns from monsters doing nothing but harm, many of them are simply praising their savior."
"I didn't even do it alone," he said. "I had help from my friends and family."
Eras looked at him, pleased. "I'm aware that you had help from the master of porcelain, Augustus Marcellus, as well as the demon shapeshifter, Willow Thornfield. Quite the crew you have gathered, isn't it?"
Joren gave a quiet laugh. "I don't know how it happened, to be honest. One minute I was working in a saloon from some small town, the next, I'm traveling with two strange people."
"Strange how chaos becomes family," Eras said thoughtfully. "I have reason to believe your family will continue to grow even stranger."
Joren raised an eyebrow. "How would you know that?"
Eras shook his head.
"Just an observation. Those who wander with questions tend to gather others like them, pursuing some goal worth an adventure. You're building something extraordinary, whether you mean to or not."
Eras's whiskers twitched in what might've been amusement. "Well, my star-studded pupil, it's time I take my leave. Take care of your companions and they will do the same for you. Don't think you are alone; you have a good thing going on."
With that, the mouse named Erasmus the Second scuttled away, leaving Joren in a state of utter confusion. Joren found his way back to bed, still feeling like he was dreaming.
Eras knows quite a lot for living in a house of cheese.
Joren drifted off.
Night – Willow's Room
Willow lay on her side, eyes open, watching the faint yellow light pulse through the crack beneath her door. She found it hard to fall asleep when she was suspected of being a turnip.
She reached for the notebook Gus had given her back in Dyer's Crossing as she sat up in bed. It was creased and slightly warped from the swamp air, but the pages still turned smooth. She flipped on a lamp and opened it up to a half-finished sketch of Joren and Gus.
The two of them sat beneath a crooked tree, but she couldn't figure out how to get the pose of sitting just right. She exhaled through her nose and shut the notebook gently, setting it back on the bedside crate that passed for a nightstand. Willow rolled onto her side and covered her head under the pillow, wishing for sleep to take her by the hand.
The air still smelled faintly of cheese and candlewax, the sounds of skittering becoming normal to her now. She didn't know if that was comforting or if she was just too tired to care.
What am I even doing here? Why did I leave home?
She reaches for a folded piece of parchment tucked between notebook pages. Written on the paper was a letter to her mother and father, telling them why she decided to leave. She never had the heart to send it to them, she worried what they might think after all this time.
She used to tell herself it was for her own good that she left without telling anyone. Then she told herself it was for their sake of having a cursed daughter. Now, she didn't know who she was lying to when she thought about it.
I left because they would be ashamed to have a daughter who became an Auspex.
"They may have loved you deeply, Ms. Thornfield, but a home built upon conditions is no true home."
Willow froze.
She pulled the blanket off her head and turned toward the direction of this small voice. There, barely lit by the low lamp, was a mouse standing upright.
"Did you just talk to me?" She said, a little fearful.
"Yes, but only because you seemed like you needed to hear that aloud."
Willow sat up slowly, unsure if this was real or some strange side effect of the cheese-laced air. "Who even are you? How can you be talking right now?"
"You may call me Eras if you would like," he said simply. "I found that you may need someone to talk to about the life you are living."
Willow sat up straighter to listen to this small creature with exceptional speaking skills.
"It's difficult, isn't it?" he said. "Trying to move forward while dragging regrets of the past with you."
Willow said nothing, but her head nodded a little.
"You left because you believed you were a burden," Eras said. "However, you never truly asked them, did you? Perhaps I am overstepping your boundaries, but you should let them know why, that way you can find closure to the pain you harbor."
Willow looked down at her hands, somewhat ashamed of her indecisiveness. The idea felt like swallowing a stone.
"It doesn't have to be now," Eras added softly. "But the truth hurts far less than silence does. You may find that the answer is far more pleasant then you could have imagined."
"How..." When she looked up again, he was already gone. She couldn't tell if she imagined it, but the words of that little mouse put her mind at ease. For the first time in many years, Willow fell asleep without regret and dread keeping her awake.
Night – Gus's Room
Gus sat on a stool in the corner of the storage room, the walls sweating faintly from the warmth of the vents. A few crates had been stacked into a kind of makeshift bench, and one of Bartholomew's spare toolkits lay cracked open beside him. He had been meaning to do some work on his traveling clay station, but with all the events that have transpired lately, he found that the idea escaped his mind.
Gus has never been the smartest of men, so there were a lot of things he didn't always understand like Joren and Willow did. Those two talked about stars, history, and emotions like it was something you could peel apart and study under a lens. Gus rarely knew what to say on such complex topics, but he always found a way to say the right things.
He knew when someone needed space, or a plate of food, or just someone nearby who wouldn't ask questions. They'd all been through a lot lately. When he and Joren encountered the hunter, he had to step up and protect him, even though he was just as terrified. He didn't tell Joren that afterward, he couldn't let it show. Gus felt like he needed to be that pillar of strength for those two, making sure they were able to feel safe and happy.
He's just so young, he shouldn't have to carry all that alone. The kid acts like the sky might fall if he isn't careful. He doesn't need a hero to save him, he just needs someone who won't fall apart on him.
From the top of the door frame, Erasmus sat, watching Gus tinker with his station. The mouse said nothing as he observed. He didn't make a sound when he appeared in his room, and he wouldn't make one when he left, either.
A quiet strength. The world speaks loudest of power and brilliance, but it's men like you, Mr. Marcellus, who carry it on their shoulders.
Then, just as silently, Eras slipped into the shadows of the walls, gone before the warmth could fade in his absence.