Chapter 8 - Around the campfire

Orange glow. 
That was all Lumen could see. 
He walked through a fiery landscape. One step at a time. Each one harder than the one before. 
He couldn’t feel his feet anymore. He couldn’t see anything else than the setting sun reflecting off Aurora’s armor. He couldn’t think. 
Through the haze, he was hearing whispers. Voices from beyond, calling to him. Asking for help. 

The unquenchable thirst. Countless steps. Arid lands. Dry. He was there. The endless walk through a deserted wasteland. Wind sweeping sand and dust in his face. The sun burning his skin. 

No! He’s not me. This desert isn’t mine. I’m with Aurora. And Heilig. And— 

Alone. He had walked alone for an eternity. The blast, way bigger than he had anticipated, had scorched the land. The county? The country? The world? 
Maybe he was the last. Maybe nothing survived it. 
Another step. 
His gaze fixed on the horizon, hoping to see a mirage. But there was nothing left to be reflected and give him hope. Why continue? 
To find solace. To find someone. To help? 

Aurora, Heilig, and Morgan need me. Not him. Me. I’m not there. He was. He died. I didn’t. I’m me. I’m Lumen. 

The fog lifted for a second as he walked in the shadow of a tree. The orange glow subsided as Aurora went deeper under the leaves, hiding the metal from the sun’s eyeless gaze. 
“Let’s find a grove to settle for the night.” She turned around. “Just a few more steps, Lumen. We’re nearly there.” 

He had no idea where there was. He pushed for one more step. And one more. 
He didn’t want to stop now to get some water, but his throat was parched. 
Soon. 
Solace. Respite. Rest. 
As they reached a clearing, Aurora stood while Heilig scouted around. Morgan sat on the ground, letting her bag slide off her shoulders. 
Lumen stopped. He couldn’t take another step. His stiff legs were about to give out, but he was too tired to sit down.
As he was standing there, worn-out, a light breeze swirled around him. He opened his eyes to see gentle lights fly before him, as he regained some semblance of strength. Gently, he put his staff and bag down and slowly sat on the ground. Without haste, while everyone was checking the place, he took his gourd out and drank. The fresh water helped relieve some of the tension of the day. Or was it the breeze?

He turned his head to see Morgan dispelling some residual magic lingering around her. Physically exhausted, he took the chance to look at it more carefully. Magic users weren’t common, and before meeting the group, he had only seen it used twice. By wandering magicians wanting to pay for their stay by entertaining the inn. 
He would learn later that one was a fraud. He already had a hunch when the trickster didn’t produce the magical lights Lumen saw the first time. He got confirmation when he read in a book that few were able to see those lights. For everyone else at the inn those days, the display was the same. Only he got to glimpse at the otherworldly colors and flamboyant auroras spinning like ribbons around him. Because he was one of the chosen heroes of the prophecy. Because he had an affinity with magic, even though he could never hope to become a spellcaster. 

Few could see, but even fewer could conjure and weave those lights. He tried. A few times. And failed. In his mind, he was already lucky to be able to see, and it was enough. 
Focusing on Morgan’s magical remnants, he noticed she wasn’t as bold and flashy as the magician from his childhood. Her spells were simple and effective. There was no glitter, no effects to wow the few who would be able to see. Was the magician a show-off who expected to get a reaction from a rare audience? Or were there multiple schools teaching different ways of weaving the lights? 
He felt it was a bit sad to strip the amazing from magic and reduce it to a simple tool. But he wouldn’t be the one to say it to Morgan. His misadventures from yesterday were enough to have him wary of her.

“Alright, we’re staying here for tonight. Heilig, once you’re done with setting up camp, mind helping our new recruit prepare his bed? I’ll go get some wood for the fire.” 
Morgan finished erasing the lights. Heilig moved in to take out of his bag most of the equipment, also setting up Aurora’s stuff. She was already gone by the time Lumen got up and reached for his bag, unfurling his sleeping bag and quickly checking what was in there. He was surprised to see a few rations and two changes of clothes. Despite the kidnapping, they took the time to gather some important possessions for him on the road. 

They didn’t stop to eat at midday to put as much distance with the goblins as they could. He had forgotten about hunger, focused solely on walking, but at the sight of food, a grumble came from his belly. 
“Must be rough for a rookie. With how dazed you were, I’m surprised you even managed to keep up the pace. Enjoy the rest tonight, and try to eat on the road tomorrow.” 
Heilig slid him a small packet. Staring at it, Lumen realized it was small pieces of cured meat after a few seconds. 
“Thanks. Are days like those usual?” 
“Let’s say they’re not uncommon. She knows everyone’s limits, but we’re also on a tight schedule after spending so long recruiting you. I wouldn’t expect the pace to slow down for a few days. At least.” 
With a sigh, Lumen pocketed the meat, relieved he would have an easy snack for tomorrow’s walk.

Soon, the camp was set. After the scorching from his daydream, the low sun left Lumen cold. Reluctantly, he approached the fire where his companions were gathering.
A rabbit was roasting on a stick, while diced vegetables floated in the bubbling pot below. Smelling the deliciously crunchy meat, the light herbal touches, the familiar wood smoke, got Lumen’s stomach rumbling.
Maybe he could quickly snag a piece? 
His eyes darting around, he confirmed none of them were paying attention. Aurora was cleaning her sword, Heilig was a few meters away, setting up what looked like rudimentary alarm traps, and Morgan was back to being a pile of laundry. 
Nobody would notice. 

Lumen leaned closer, his eyes on the prize. A ladle was resting in the pot, ready to swirl the vegetables in it. Or snatch one out. The moment he grabbed the handle, Aurora’s voice stopped him dead in his tracks. 
“You don’t have to sneak around; there’s enough for all of us.” 
He could still hear the light sound of the cloth wiping the blade. She didn’t even lift her gaze. 
Without a word, he grabbed the knife. 

His hand, red, moist, sticky, dripping. He was holding something. A knife. A knife that was warm. Warm from being inside someone just a second ago. With a puzzled expression, Heilig laid before him. His hands holding the deep wound in his abdomen. A crimson pound forming under him. The same red that covered his hands. He did this. 

No! Another me… Not me. I wouldn’t— 

Yet, Heilig was bleeding out, and Lumen was holding the knife. A cooking knife. The same they used to cut their food. The only kitchen knife the group had. 

The kitchen knife Lumen was holding, ready to cut himself a piece of rabbit. 

He wasn’t me. I won’t do that. It won’t happen.

Repeating the sentence like a mantra, Lumen was glad Heilig was further from the fire. It would have been bad if—
“Are you afraid to cut out a piece? That poor hare won’t miss it, you know.” 
His tone was light, and he smiled at his joke. 
“Ah— sorry. I… I spaced out.” 
“It’s fine. Today was exhausting. Give me that knife, I’ll take care of it.” 
Still hazy from the vision, Lumen didn’t argue. As he was about to pass the blade, he noticed red stains on his hand. Shouting, he let go of the handle and fell on his back. 

Blood. 
Everywhere. 
The whole camp. 
Himself. 
Covered. Crimson. 
The taste of iron. The coppery smell. 
A laugh. His laugh. Out of control. 
Slashes. Red arcs flying through the air. Cuts. Red. 
The knife. In his right hand. His arms. No sensation. No pain. Relief. He did it. 

HE DID IT! Not me! Him. 
Him… 

I’m not him. I’m me. I’m me. I’m me. 
Ahah. Ahahahaha. I’m… 

Lumen was now curled into a ball, a few meters away from the fire. Aurora was by his side, holding his shoulder. Heilig was crouching in front of him, a worried look on his face. His breathing was fast. The only sound, his heart, echoing in his head, beating harder than ever. The hand. He focused on the hand. The contact with someone else. The warmth. A gentle touch. She wasn’t shaking him. A simple touch. She was reaching out. A light touch. She was there. Heilig was here too. Lumen felt his breathing slow down. 

It wasn’t me. It wasn’t me. I’m not him. I’m me. I’m me. 

Grabbing onto the feeling on his shoulder, he started sobbing. Quietly at first. Soon, it became too much, and he let out the emotions. His face was covered in tears. He was shaking. But at no point did the hand leave his shoulder. Heilig went to take care of the dinner. She stayed. Lumen had no idea how long they stayed like that. But when his tears stopped, she was still holding his shoulder. And he was mentally embracing the warmth. For the first time, he felt someone else. For the first time, he wasn’t alone. Maybe… maybe he could… 
Exhausted by the walk, he fell asleep. And for a while, Aurora stayed by his side, a hand on his shoulder.