'You're the peculiar one…' He heard her last comment.
He expected her to give him a similar reaction to Aven but she didn't even shed a single tear.
It's as if she had mourned him for an entire year already.
She was calm, composed and strong, carrying Arlen's memory with grace, unlike him.
The world outside burned in a soft golden hue, yet all Cael could see was the image of her smile.
She carried his light better than anyone could.
And what did he carry?
"She's my responsibility now." He wouldn't allow any harm to come to her.
***
Three days passed in motion and silence.
Corven officially signed off the mission scroll and the Hero instantly began preparation for the week-long journey and the extermination that comes after it.
Cael personally chose the knights, he spent a considerable amount of time in the training grounds observing each and every one of them.
His criteria was simple. Strong and dedicated to the Hero.
Although most of the knights didn't have much promise, they had some potential.
As meat shields.
In reality Cael couldn't care less about the people that accompanied him, because he planned on taking care of the situation on his own as Eidolon with Aven's help.
The speech he gave the knights, about faith and strength was nothing but jargon he came up with on the spot so they would shut up and follow his orders while not slowing him down on the journey.
Most of the three days were spent preparing the weapons and rations, which would've been a complete waste of time for Cael if he didn't spend each night investigating the factory for further clues and leads.
After borrowing the factory's floor plans from Corven's office, Cael found a secret chamber.
Going there he found some of the cloaked men's records and letters.
They were cultists.
They were kidnapping slum kids because no one would bat an eye to use as sacrifices for some scheme.
"We are ready sir Hero." One of the knights interrupted Cael's thoughts.
"Let us depart then."
Not even looking his way, the Hero gave his order and everyone started leaving.
Passing through the massive gate and walking across the grand bridge, the Hero looked back at the Heartlands.
***
The city's watch towers, reflected on the lake like a crown of stone and silver over a sea of glass. The marble columns made the three bridges look like spines.
From the center of Lake Serathiel, three great rivers bled outwards, splitting the continent in three.
To the east, Servaal. The mountain citadel of mages, where spires pierced the clouds and wisdom was worshiped like the Sun.
A letter of recommendation came Cael's way when his illusion magic became known to the other adventurers, the mages of the dark tower were desperate to research that combination magic due to its rarity.
And of course, Cael refused.
To the north, Dravengrade. The white of the snow was covered by the forges smoke, where adventurers founded a country led by strength.
There had been countless times in Cael's life when he contemplated abandoning everything in Valis Thorne and starting from scratch in Dravengrade. There was no nobility, no royalty, no laws and no one cared about another's past. One's strength was everything.
However, he would always change his mind. The strong would torment the weak, the same way a noble would ridicule someone from the slums.
To the west, Ostvenya. The shrouded wetlands of mystery and whispering prayers. Where rain never stopped and sunlight never reached the ground.
Cael never liked this place, he had the creeps every time he learned something new about it and he couldn't help but think of it when he found out about the cultists.
All of them watched Valis Thorne.
And Valis Thorne, in turn, watched the Grieving Lands.
It had always been Valis Thorne's burden to guard the continent from the Worldwound and its generals, since the first Hero; Valis Thorne himself.
***
The road to Rotmere was a road in name alone. Cael used this same path with Arlen when they went on their journey a year ago, back then it wasn't as bad.
Every step they took after the paved roads stopped, the soil grew softer and the scent of moss became thicker.
By the third day, the land had forgotten color. The grass dulled to sickly gray, the trees bent low, their roots exposed like old bones.
They passed through a waystation, its roof collapsed and its walls carved with prayers. Whatever spell once protected it had long since faded, the bones by the doorway made that clear.
A knight muttered a short prayer under his breath clutching his emblem tight enough to leave marks on his hand, another paled turning behind them as if sensing someone's gaze.
'Wow, his senses must be sharp.'
Cael could sense Aven following them since they departed. She kept her distance when they were on the move but would get very close to the camp when they stopped.
Cael knew her aim. To have detailed information about every single knight in the event that she had to fight one of them and to potentially get to know which one of them was Eidolon.
'She would not suspect the Hero once of being Eidolon. So my identity is safe.'
He could also sense her killing intent, every time her gaze fell on him. It was to the point where he had to keep his guard up at all times.
Aven wasn't dumb enough to challenge the Hero, especially not when both her and Eidolon would need him later, but she could become unpredictable sometime and with promising to kill him, he couldn't rule out the possibility.
Finally glimpsing the carcass of Rotmere, Cael commanded the knights to halt and make camp while he scouted ahead. No one questioned him, as they became exhausted by their non stop marching the entire day.
The Hero walked through the muddy plains with ease, his posture and cadence not changing with the resisting ground, coupled with the bellowing wind it would be hard for anyone else to traverse this terrain.
'What a pain in the ass…' Yet it did bother him even if he didn't show it.
All the land that surrounded Cael was mixed with water making a bog that reached his knees, dirtying his newly repaired armor.
All the houses were halfway underground revealing only their rooftop and second floors, he could almost see candles lighting their collapsed interiors.
The smell of rotting wood and decaying corpses reminded him of the slums or what it could look like after a flood, the air felt wrong, too stale, too heavy.
Through the whistling of the winds, he could hear whispers calling out to him.
The shadows around the fallen trees moved with the branches, but Cael's intuition yelled out that it didn't originate from the branches.
Clicking his fingers, a light appeared above Cael, it wasn't night yet but the sun's rays didn't reach this place.
Under his light magic, faded sigils drawn with what seemed to be blood were scattered all over the ghost town from the entrance to the forest that covered the town's back.
Feeling like he got a good enough look at the layout of the town and what could be hidden inside, the Hero's turn ended and he had to go back to his camp.
He made sure that everything around the camp was in order and told the knights to rest.
The wind howled through the plains, seeping into the tents, like water through paper.
The knights' campfire cracked and moved against the damp air, casting trembling shadows across their tired faces. They spoke in low voices, half-whispering as if afraid that the bog would hear them.
Even the bravest among them refused to even look toward Rotmere.
Cael sat apart from them, silent, watching the dark outline of the ruined town.
The men feared ghosts, he feared that this was another country's ploy.
A knight approached him, his armor slightly rusted from travel and mud.
"Sir Hero," He said, trying his best to sound courageous. "Is it true what they say about this place? That the dead roam the streets?"
He didn't answer immediately, his gaze still fixed on the dark bog.
"No such thing exists, if there are such dead people they are the evil doers that we will kill." Finally speaking, his cold voice chilled the young knight's heart.
His throat tightened, stepping back, he bowed and left without a word.
Cael remained in place, listening. The marshland groaned. The sound of insects long gone, replaced by the sound of moving mud and an unnatural hum beneath it.
It wasn't the sounds that unsettled him, but the silence between them.
Closing his eyes, Cael could almost see Isolde again. He couldn't get that smile out of his mind.
'What would she think of what I'm doing right now?'
The fire erupted.
He got up, silent as the fog that surrounded him, and slipped into his tent.
Cael waited for the moon, and as soon as its light washed over the camp, he made an illusion of the Hero sleeping soundly and reached for his black and golden mask.
Eidolon will take care of the rest.