The man paused. The silence that filled the place his story had been occupying stretched out first for a moment, then ten, then a hundred. Minutes passed before Melody finally realized that he wasn’t continuing his tale.

She had been enraptured. As she listened, she had become immersed in this alien retelling of a familiar story. This story was the scriptures, of that she had no doubt. But this man was giving her details that the holy book lacked and contradicting doctrine in other places. 

This retelling felt like a personal recounting of events from the perspective of one who had witnessed it all, both in mind and in experience. How could this man, this traveler in shabby clothes with the bandages of an inquisitor, possibly claim authority over this story.

Melody had an inkling.

“You are-”

“Yes,” the man said frankly. He didn’t bother hiding his identity, but the fact that he answered before she even finished asking the question unnerved her. He was being forthright at least, but she could feel a presence brushing against her and inferred how he had known her question. 

“And that was-”

“Yes,” he repeated. The man shifted in his seat and brought his blindfolded gaze back down to meet Melody’s eyes. “That was the birth of the Cleansing Flame. A force of legend unleashed upon the Andrade kingdom, spreading and consuming everything in its path. Nobody was safe. Not Andrade, not Leppa, not royals or peasants, not even…”

A wet mark appeared on his bandages, and Melody only barely heard a soft whimper before the man composed himself again.

“You are a clever girl,” the man said, his tone serious. “Your parents would be proud. Still, they would likely be reluctant to let you hear the rest of what I have to say. Knowing this, would you like me to continue?”

Before she could respond, the man waved his hand and the campfire dimmed. The cold night air, now unhindered by the fire, cut through their campsite and chilled Melody where she sat. It was eerie, as if nature itself was setting the tone for what came next.

“The next part of this story isn’t so bad,” he continued. “Much less death, at least. I suppose we can thank our Mistress for that.” The campfire burst back to its full glory and the chill disappeared as if it had only been an illusion. “We’ll meet some new people, explore the depths of those we’ve already met, and even attend a party or two. I can’t say it will all be fun, but it should be a bit of a palette cleanser.”

He looked expectantly at Melody, and she realized with a start that he was waiting for her permission. 

“Please continue,” she said, more meekly than she intended. “I want to hear it all.” She wasn’t lying, at least not to the best of her knowledge, but she couldn’t stop apprehension from creeping into her voice.

A dry laugh came from the man as he leaned forward and began warming his hands with the campfire as if to banish the chill he had let in. Another pause followed, though shorter than the last, and then the man began anew. 

“We’ll pick up the story half a year from where we left off. It was now fall, and the waning heat left by summer had long since shifted to the brisk chill that heralded the nearness of winter. It was a time of celebration in the Andrade kingdom. The harvest had been reaped, the firewood stocked, and the princess’ birthday was fast approaching.

“The wounds of that unfortunate incident had begun to heal, or at least that was the official stance. In reality, that deep gash on the people’s confidence in their nation had begun festering. There had been whispers of revolt as the story of the people’s avenger spread far and wide. 

“The Andrades held everything together for the time being, and the princess played no small part in that. She was beloved by the people, and she made use of that to stitch together some semblance of peace and order in the months following Charlotte’s assault on the palace.”

A smile crept onto the man’s face and his tone became conspiratorial.

“Could she keep it up? Was it even possible to bridge the gap between the people and their rulers?

“Only time could tell.”