Two new words and a lot of new questions… Kangassk understood little but kept listening.

Their next day’s journey through the Dead Region was uneventful. The grey, monotonous landscape and the slow walking pace they were now moving at made all three people sleepy and grumpy. The gloomy mood didn’t affect the chargas, though: fully rested, unburdened, they frolicked around like little kittens; bags, packs, and rolls jumping at their furry backs as they played. The mighty beasts barely noticed them at all.

Kangassk kept observing the worldholders, the faint hope of seeing them perform a wonder or two still alive in his heart. Unfortunately, Vlada and Sereg didn’t even talk much that day. They walked side by side in meaningful silence, Sereg carefully matching his stride to Vlada’s pace, and looked no more majestic and powerful than Kangassk himself.

The further away they went from the crater the brighter the world looked. Soon, seeing tiny yellowish blades of grass sticking through the soft carpet of grey dust made Kangassk’s heart jump with joy. He had become very fond of everything green since he left Kuldaganian sands behind. Now, he even knelt down and gently stroked the sad tuft of wasteland plants with his palm, thinking of how he missed fields and forests he barely knew way more than anything related to his sandy motherland.

His hopes high again, he hurried to catch up with the rest of the group.

The grey day passed like a bad dream. That evening, they camped at a tiny islet of grassy turf at the edge of the Dead Region. There were meadows and trees visible in the distance, so the next day’s journey looked promising. But the night before it? Not so much…

They were out of firewood, so their supper was dry wayfarer rations and cold water, their only protection from cold were their cloaks. The chargas had to make do with wayfarer rations as well for there was no game to hunt and the local yellowish grass was not to their taste, the very grass Kangassk had kneeled to stroke several hours before.

“What’s wrong with you two?” Kan asked the chargas. “Sure, it’s not as green as you’d like but you can’t be so picky when…”

“Huh-huh, good luck making them eat moongrass, kid!” Sereg sniffed at him. It was the first time the ancient mage had noticed the Kuldaganian that day.

“What’s wrong with moongrass?” Kan asked, being as sincerely naive as he was curious.

“Moongrass is deadly,” explained Vlada, “it’s a kind of grass you need if you want to poison your arrows.”

“I had no idea…” Kan sighed and fell silent.

He kept himself busy with nibbling at the dry ration bar for a while and let his thoughts free to go whichever way they liked. They could go exploring all kind of dreams and fantasies but no, they chose to dwell on the past and make Kan’s mood spiral down into the greyest gloom as they did that.

“His bride gave him that stone,” Vlada had said yesterday, “he had no idea what it was…”

Kangassk nearly choked on his food. His loud, raspy cough that followed, was so cruel it made Vlada worry for his well being. The ancient worldholder sat beside the puny mortal and carefully patted him on the back.

“Vlada…” Kan uttered between coughs. “You said… cough… yesterd… cough… something about my bride and that… ss.. stone…”

“And?”

“So that… cough… little… cough… brat… is my future bride? ‘D… destinies cross’… You meant – this way?”

“True,” Vlada confirmed all his suspicions with one word and one nod. “Believe me, you disappointed her as well.”

“Why’s that?” Kan asked, so annoyed and surprised all of a sudden that he forgot about the cough.