The sun had just begun to set when we started our journey. Beardman and I were riding a raft being pulled by Procko. The river was wide, and since the large rocks were only along the edges, Procko's path wasn't too difficult. He was calm as he pulled the raft, and when night fell, the Bulbflies lit up, illuminating our surroundings.
I felt like a prisoner who had just been set free. Even though all I could see were massive rocks and towering trees, I still enjoyed the view. I missed traveling. I remembered how, when my problems became too heavy, I used to ride the subway just to calm my emotions.
Procko eventually stopped pulling the raft. According to Beardman, our river journey had ended. We'd be walking the rest of the way to Ariel Lagoon. Procko took a large backpack from the raft, filled with gifts and liquor, and slung it over his shoulder. I followed Beardman into the dense jungle.
My jaw nearly dropped when we passed through a quiet, dark village. The houses looked burned down and were now covered in ash. When I saw a skeleton lying on the ground, I wondered if anyone had survived whatever tragedy had struck this place.
"What happened here?" I asked Beardman, who, like me, couldn't believe what we were seeing.
"This village was inhabited by the Loidsol Clan. In my opinion, a massacre must have taken place here."
"If that's true, then whoever did this must be utterly heartless."
"I know the Loidsol Clan for their ability known as Eyesores." I wanted to laugh, but I held it in and covered my mouth. Eyesores? In my world, an eyesore is something people avoid. But it seemed Beardman had a different meaning. "Their eyeballs can change shape," he continued, "and each shape gives them a different perception of reality."
"Do you think this was done by a group?"
"No. I think it was just one person. And that person was likely a member of their own clan. It was a personal motive—something they did for their own gain. Imagine how much you could manipulate reality if you acquired all types of Eyesores."
"So each member of the Loidsol Clan has a distinct type of Eyesore? But how could one person acquire them all?"
"Simple. They eat the eyes of the others."
I nearly vomited. Not only was this person a murderer—they were also a cannibal. If the suspect had really acquired all the Eyesores... oh no, that person was incredibly dangerous. "But as I said, that's just my theory. It's also possible that someone else attacked them with the intention of wiping out the entire clan."
Beardman stopped walking, and Procko and I did the same. I saw Beardman turn toward the burned houses, eyes closed, as if offering a silent prayer for the victims. Procko and I followed his lead. God hears the prayers of any being when they come from the heart—but I tried not to get distracted by Procko's loud mumbling.
After our prayers, we resumed our journey. The night grew darker, but Beardman said we'd reach Ariel Lagoon before the wedding started. It was scheduled for midnight.
Still, something felt strange. What if this wedding I'd stumbled into turned out to be a werewolf wedding?
We walked for almost an hour before reaching a cliff. I was about to give up—I wasn't used to hiking—but from here, I could see the rock formations and the vast sea. Looking down, I noticed bonfires glowing and people dancing. I was certain that was Ariel Lagoon.
Beardman took out a dagger and drew a wind symbol in the air. When he stabbed it, the three of us were enclosed in a swirl of wind. I felt like I was riding an elevator. If I were Beardman, I'd just use that all the time instead of walking.
Bechamel greeted us warmly when we arrived, clearly happy—until he saw me. His expression turned sour, and this time, I was the one who gave him a strange smile.
I also noticed the other guests stopped what they were doing and stared at us, especially Beardman. Maybe he was famous? I smiled and waved to appear friendly, despite my rough appearance. But they all looked stiff and unfriendly. It seemed that living far from modern society made people curious... but not particularly welcoming.
"Your arrival is just in time. Midnight is near, and the wedding will begin shortly. For now, enjoy the music and the food prepared," Bechamel said. He seemed hospitable after all.
"I brought a gift and some brandy for you," Beardman said to Bechamel, then turned to me. "I'll accompany Bechamel for now. You and Procko head to the long table and get something to eat."
I pulled Procko along; I was getting hungry too. Most weddings I'd attended served food after the ceremony, but here, you could eat anytime. The food was unfamiliar, but I was willing to try everything. Procko looked thrilled to find apples on the table.
I sat down on a large log near a bonfire, my plate filled with a variety of dishes. Procko sat beside me with a bowl full of apples. As we ate, I took in our surroundings.
Bechamel's house was built inside a cone-shaped rock formation. It looked like a giant traffic cone sitting on a boulder, surrounded by water—almost like it was floating in a massive swimming pool. The guests seemed to be locals. Someone played a flute, and the melody brought joy to the atmosphere. Others were dancing.
Bechamel, dressed in tribal attire, chatted with Beardman. They were joined by a large man who looked like he would be officiating the wedding. Still, I hadn't seen the bride. Maybe she was inside, waiting for the right moment to appear.
Then I noticed a young man sitting at the end of the same log I was on, quietly eating some roasted meat. He looked about my age and height, maybe a bit bulkier.
As I watch him eating silently, it's like I'm seeing myself in him - quiet, aloof, and seemingly misunderstood. In this world, no one really knows me, and no one judges me for who I am. I've come to realize that being transported here isn't so bad; in fact, it's given me a chance to change myself. In my own world, even if I try to change, people would still gossip about me and say nasty things to my face. But here in Meadowglaze, I'm free from that - only I would notice my own transformation, and no one judges me.
I slowly moved closer. He didn't react, and I realized his eyes were closed. Both his eyes had scars that looked like claw marks. I pretended to cough so he'd know someone was nearby.
"By the way, I'm Afghast," I said, using the alias Beardman had given me since I was still in incognito mode. But he didn't respond. Maybe he was just shy?
"This place is really nice. Surrounded by rocks and water—it's like a vacation house. The food looks exotic but tastes good. There's music and dancing, too."
"Why are you speaking like I'm blind? I'm fully aware of what's happening around me." His voice was deep—and offended. I realized I'd been incredibly insensitive. I shouldn't have said that.
"I just thought you couldn't see… because your eyes were closed."
The dust on my body suddenly scattered—before I could react, he had a blade pointed at my neck. His movements were so fast I hadn't even seen him draw the weapon. I raised my hands, frozen in fear, my throat dry as I swallowed. Procko trembled beside me, shocked.
"If I were you," he said coldly, "I'd keep my mouth shut and avoid making small talk with strangers. But let me give you one warning—while you still can, tiptoe your way out of this place."