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Xanthy opened her eyes due to the light shining through the ceiling. Initially, she thought that she somehow fell asleep while she was talking to the being and that the light was from the Arbotro. Then, as she wrenched her eyelids open, she realized that one—she was lying down and two—she was inside a tent.
She stared up at the flaps swaying with the wind. Has everything just been a bad, bad dream? It couldn't be. She wiggled her toes and realized she had no shoes on. She brought her hands to her face and flexed her fingers. Her body was covered with a loose smock and some stuff underneath. There was also a slight stiffness on her hips as if she has been in this position for long.
Then, like a balloon being slowly filled with air, her memories of the recent events flowed back to her head. She was here and not in the Realm of the Lost. She was back on the island. Someone gave up their soul for her.
Xanthy groaned, covering her face with her hands as she wondered who in hell would have done that for her. The fact that she couldn't remember much about getting out of the Realm of the Lost and entering this world ate away at her mind. There's only a blank gap in her memory. Why did she feel so tired?
"Thank the gods you're awake," a familiar voice made her slide her hands away from her eyes. Slowly, she turned her head to its source. Her heartbeat halted.
There was June, sitting on the floor, cross-legged, looking at her with no sickness anywhere on him. Despite the fading bruise on his jaw and his arm on a sling, he looked fine. She missed that glow on his skin and the smile on his face.
"I'm awake," she said, her voice sounding weird in her ears. Perhaps, she spent too much time inside the Realm that she had to get used to the sound of her voice in this world. "How long was I gone?"
June scooted closer to her. Apparently, she was laid on a long fabric that didn't even aim to hide the hardness of the earth underneath her. So that's why her hips hurt. How long had she been lying here? "That doesn't matter, doesn't it?" June said softly, tearing her attention back to him. "What matters is that you're alive."
Xanthy raised her hands to examine it. "I'm alive," she whispered to no one. She was here. That didn't necessarily mean she was alive. She faced June. "Who did it?" she asked.
Confusion marred June's features. "Did what?"
Xanthy dropped her hands to her sides and turned her head towards June. He was looking at her like she was speaking the Ancient language. "The trade," Xanthy said. "Who sacrificed their soul to the chalice?"
June's face darkened. Xanthy prayed to all the gods that it wasn't the person she was thinking of. "Ravalee," June said. "Ravalee did it."
Xanthy sat up so suddenly her head swirled with air. She clutched her head and June was there, chiding her for moving around too much. It was sort of sweet if only there wasn't that thing in her heart telling her that they still needed to talk about something.
