Weight of the World

Chapter Forty-One

—Crooked Forest, Belanen—

How did anyone know where they were going here? Granted, her sense of direction sucked on a good day. Idelle had always been their guide, always knowing the way forward even without her magic, but for Lulu, unless she stumbled upon what she was searching for—to be fair, she often did just that—she had a tendency to get lost walking a straight line. Forests, underground caverns—if it offered more than one twist or turn, she was bound to end up going in the wrong direction at some point. Which was why Lulu couldn't figure out how Archbishop Whittle continued to forge ahead, assured of his steps at every turn. He consulted no map and had yet to cast a single spell that she had seen. Everyone back at the camp had been certain to tell her how treacherous this forest was, how confusing it could be, and how the forest itself sometimes sought to play tricks on the inhabitants.

So, why was this perfectly normal archbishop so good at navigating the Crooked Forest? The question itself posed the answer, she supposed. He wasn't perfectly normal. There was no way. She would bet her left tit he was hiding something, and she didn't bet that one for just anything. Annoyingly, however, Archbishop Whittle hadn't done a single thing that confirmed her suspicions. But she would continue watching him as they made their way further and further south.

She knew next-to-nothing about Belanen. It was a land of magic, but anything she had learned had been through Idelle. When traversing Andavaran, Lulu had always been more interested in Iskendryn, Pelyos, or Raikkonen, lands with rich, fat nobles, who loved to make games of messing with those they thought beneath them. It made it that much more fun to play games of her own, to deprive them of what they thought was rightfully theirs. Lands like Avarra and Cameliard had been too righteous and good for her interest, and places like Belanen were steeped in magic and history that Lulu had never understood.

She tried to recall some of Idelle's stories now, but none came to mind, souring her mood even further as she lifted herself over one of the enormous tree trunks lying across their path. Rost's words would not leave her. The pain and suffering her family experienced now was all her doing. She knew it was true. But there was nothing she could do to fix it. She couldn't bring Idelle or Ori back to life, though she would trade anything she had to make it so.

Her mind drifted to Idelle. The engagement ring she had given her was heavy in her pocket. She wasn't certain what hurt worse, the fact that she would never get the chance to offer it again, or that it had been returned to her in the first place. Even if Idelle was alive, would she have ever agreed to take her back? Lulu swallowed thickly, a memory flashing in her mind. Idelle splayed out beneath her in bed, white hair tossed in every direction, violet eyes alight with humor as she laughed at whatever horrible pickup line Lulu had just uttered. Those simple wonderful moments. Gone forever.

Because of her.

"So, I was thinking..." Mervin began, and Lulu couldn't suppress the angry groan that escaped her. "Do you think he's a fairy, a demon, or an Umbra?" Lulu glanced over at Mervin, confused until she followed his gaze in the direction of Archbishop Whittle. "There's no way a priest of the Path of the Light can be this good in an ancient, magical forest, right?"

Her annoyance began to clear as she offered a snort of laughter. "No way he's a fairy. Not spritely enough."

"I beg your pardon. I am quite spritely for my age," Archbishop Whittle answered, hearing them perfectly despite being several yards ahead. He turned to look at them, pausing in his assured steps. His gray eyes were sparkling with humor, the light trickling down through the treetops catching the sheen of his dark hair that she had just realized was dark purple.