A light but prolonged rain had settled over the city for two days before the spring sun returned and broke through the clouds. By then, the work had already become too important to stop. Rumors of war had spread through Minht with enough certainty that few bothered questioning whether it would come. The only question was when. From sunrise to sundown, the city moved with the restless purpose of men preparing for a storm they could already see on the horizon. A steady stream of ships arriving both day and night brought more men and resources to the city. Supplies were hauled through the streets, weapons were inspected, new recruits were sorted among the Blue Hearts, and every available hand seemed to have been given something to do.
West stepped into the flow of men pouring through the city and spotted Broc among them. There were more faces in the crowd than there had been only days ago, some familiar, many not. Word had spread that Odessa would address the people of Minht, and she had ordered everyone to attend. Men, women, and children alike would gather to hear what their captor had to say.
“Good morning, West.”
West turned toward Broc and gave him a crisp salute. “Commander Broc. Good morning.”
One of Broc’s eyebrows rose. “I am just another Blue Heart, no different from you or the others. You do not need to salute me.”
West’s mouth curled into a faint smile. “Is that an order, Commander?”
A quiet chuckle escaped Broc, and for a brief moment the title seemed to carry less weight between them. West glanced beyond him, searching the moving crowd.
“Any word from Turik? I got another letter from Pearl. I thought we could all read it together.”
Broc’s amusement faded. His gaze shifted toward the gathering crowd as though he, too, were looking for someone. “I get the impression that Turik may be avoiding us. I am quite certain Odessa has already shared who her new champion will be. That is why she is gathering us all. Regardless, I will stand ready.”
“I have no doubt you will.” West looked over the crowd again, taking in the unfamiliar faces that seemed to have appeared from nowhere.
“There are plenty of new faces among us.” Broc slowly surveyed the men around them. “It is very likely that there are some Bloods among them.”
West studied the newcomers. They had arrived in Minht with promises of riches and revenge, yet there was little about them that suggested they had come merely to wait for either. Some carried themselves like seasoned soldiers. Others watched the Blue Hearts with the wary attention of men deciding whether they had chosen the right side. “How is all this possible? Do all these men really believe in Odessa?” West asked
“All these men have their own reasons for being here. Be it gold, glory, or vengeance.” Broc’s eyes moved across the gathering forces. “The Evok has made plenty of enemies in his pursuit of power. Usurping the Northern Crown, subjugating the Eastern kingdoms, the destruction of the south. There are plenty of men willing to answer the call of any army that seeks his end.”
West let the answer settle before looking back at Broc. “And… what keeps you here?”
Broc’s expression hardened, though his eyes remained fixed upon the gathering army. “Regardless of my current position, I am the champion of the North.”
“Until when?” West watched him carefully. “You do not quite strike me as a man who wants to rule. You seem more like a man who enjoys the fight.”
“What do you mean by that?” Confusion flashed across Broc’s face.
“Well, once you defeat the Evok and reclaim the Cobalt Crown, does that not mean you become ruler of the Northern Valley?” West asked.
Broc smiled, though there was little ambition in it. “There is always another battle, regardless of rank. I will settle into that position just fine. Just as my ancestors did, Emperor Ravi the Wise ruled for over forty years. I intend to serve just the same.”
“For what it’s worth, Broc, I think you’d make an excellent Emperor.” West said.
Before Broc could answer, Hemlo pushed his way through the crowd and approached them. He gave Broc a soft shove against the shoulder as he came alongside him. “Are we ready, Broc?”
“We are always ready, Hemlo.” Broc never took his eyes from the gathering crowd.
Hemlo’s attention shifted towards West. “You’re still here?” He pointed at him, then belched loudly enough to draw a few nearby glances.
West gave him a small smile. “I am.”
“Why? Your friend is already gone.” Hemlo reached toward West’s ribs, apparently intent on striking the same injured spot he had been warned about, but West twisted away before the hand could land. “Odessa said you didn’t even mention me for the execution!”
The smile vanished from West’s face. His eyes settled on Hemlo. “He’s dead?” The words barely left him.
Broc stepped between them, his attention finally leaving the crowd. “Hemlo, are you already drunk?”
Hemlo looked up at him, entirely unbothered. “I had a few drinks with the boss this morning.”
Broc stared at him for a moment. “You had a drink with Odessa? This early?”
“A few.” Hemlo wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. “She’s thinking about giving me a promotion.”
Broc considered that, then placed a hand on Hemlo’s shoulder. “Let us pray she is not considering you for the position of champion, Hemlo of House Gerwal.”
Hemlo threw his head back with a hearty laugh. “An old man like me!? Champion? This is not the age of the Great Melt!” His laughter faded as his attention wandered toward the crowd. “Blood to Blood, they tell me one of the Therie boys arrived on one of those ships. A son of Borno.”
Broc gave a low grunt.
“That’s the rumor.” Hemlo cleared his throat. “The Turd should know who it is. You should ask him.”
“And where is Turik?” Broc asked.
Hemlo shrugged “I saw him walking around with that Slug of a Mayor”, he turned his attention back toward West. “So, when are you leaving?” He made another attempt at West’s ribs, but West stepped aside before he could make contact.
“Nine days. On the next ship back to the Clam.”
Hemlo’s hand remained suspended in the air for a moment before dropping to his side. His expression shifted as he looked at West, the drunken amusement thinning just enough to reveal something more thoughtful underneath. “Are… You willing to sell that ass?” Hemlo muttered.
West stared at him for a moment. “What? No.”
“What about the donkey? You’ll sell me that?”
Hemlo broke into a loud laugh, and despite himself, West joined him with a few quiet chuckles as he shook his head. The moment of levity seemed to satisfy Hemlo, who slapped a hand against Broc’s arm before turning away.
“Excuse me, but I’m on my way. Broc, if you’re going to challenge the next champion, I want to be there. You find me.” He disappeared into the crowd before either man could answer. “
Broc watched until Hemlo was swallowed by the mass of bodies, then kept his gaze there for another moment. “Odessa sent him.”
West turned toward him. “Why do you say that?”
“This is what she does. Here, all the eyes and ears belong to her. Smoli used to say that.” Broc’s expression hardened as he considered what had just happened. “She must have sent him here to find out if I still have the fight in me. She wants to know whether I will challenge her new champion.” A slow smile touched his face as he nodded to himself. “Well, now she has my answer. May she put her best man before me.”
West considered Hemlo’s behavior, then glanced toward the crowd where he had vanished. “I think he was just drunk.”
“Odessa does not share drinks with men for leisure or kindness, it’s always business.” Broc’s certainty left little room for argument.
West snickered. “This whole time, I thought she just liked my company.”
“The charms of a woman can be just as deadly as the blade.” Broc countered.
West absorbed Broc’s words, his amusement fading as he looked toward him. There was something in the statement that felt less like wisdom and more like a warning. “Be careful, Broc.”
Before Broc could answer, the noise of the courtyard began to change. Conversations softened one by one, until a restless quiet replaced the murmurs. West turned with the others and found the center of the courtyard filled with people. Turik had appeared among them, directing men into place and ordering civilians toward the edges. The Blue Hearts formed around him, their bodies creating a widening ring that left the center of the courtyard strangely bare.
Broc exhaled slowly as he took in the gathering ranks. More men continued to arrive, filling every open space until the courtyard seemed to have become one enormous audience. His hands curled into fists at his sides. Whatever amusement had been left behind was gone from his face, and the intensity in his eyes returned.
A man near the center lifted a horn to his lips. The blast tore through the courtyard. Every remaining conversation died in that instant.
Turik stopped and looked across the crowd. Soldiers straightened. Civilians fell silent. Even the children seemed to sense that whatever was about to happen demanded their complete attention. West felt the sudden stillness settle over Minht, heavy enough that the scrape of a boot against stone seemed too loud.
Then the crowd parted.
Odessa emerged from behind them, moving with the arrogant confidence of someone who had never once doubted that every eye would turn toward her whenever she entered any space. And… She did not come alone.
Mayor Barry walked behind her.
“Let me begin by addressing those of you who have just arrived. First, from the bottom of my heart, sincerely, thank you all for your continued dedication to our cause.”
Odessa let her gaze travel across the gathered Blue Hearts before turning toward the civilians packed along the edges of the courtyard. “To the Blue Hearts who stuck together during that terrible winter, your dedication is not forgotten. To the citizens of Minht, who suffered alongside us, perhaps even more so. Your dedication will also never be forgotten.”
The crowd remained quiet, but faces turned toward her with increasing attention. Odessa allowed the silence to linger before continuing.
“I intend to make things right in every manner in which I can.” She took a few long steps across the courtyard, letting her eyes move over the city beyond the gathered people. “This historical city was nearly destroyed. Not by wars. It has survived many wars. Not by plagues. It has survived plagues. Not the wrath of the gods, nor time itself. This city was nearly destroyed, ”
A murmur passed through the crowd.
Odessa stopped. “Logistical mismanagement.” She raised a single finger.
“Your city was an early victim of Evok Ossimo’s destruction. Before his ascent, when his armies were smaller and his weapons cruder, he marched into Minht, walked directly into the Governor’s Palace. At the time Governor Rasp, in his naivety, thought he could avoid a battle. A battle he would have won with ease.” Odessa slowly turned toward the burned palace behind her. “Instead, he allowed Ossimo and the dreadful Dresdi to occupy his city for the winter. Then came the spring. Then passed the summer.”
She paused.
“Then a decade followed.”
The crowd shifted. An older man near the front lowered his head, his expression tightening as though the words had dragged something buried back into the light.
Odessa continued. “Governor Rasp vanished, but the Evok’s army never did. The palace built by the Great Governor Eldar remained the guest house for whatever Evokian general had the luxury of being stationed here.” She pointed directly toward the charred remains.
A few voices rose from the crowd, bitter and foul-mouthed. Odessa lowered her hand, and the murmuring gradually faded.
“I tell you this because it has been over thirty years since Rasp abandoned the duty he had to you, his people.” She moved closer to the civilians now, no longer speaking only to the soldiers. “Some of you are too young to know this story, or the glory that was once your beautiful city. But for the blessed elders who remain…”
Odessa stopped before them. “They remember.” Her gaze moved from one weathered face to another. “They know I am speaking the truth.”
The silence that followed felt different. Less uncertain. More personal.
“They also remember who was left to be the custodian of the city.” Odessa turned slowly toward the man standing behind her. “Mayor Barry. Brother of Governor Rasp and inheritor of the keys to the city.”
A few heads turned toward Barry.
Odessa gave a soft chuckle. “Governor Rasp made a big mistake the day he allowed Ossimos army into the city. But our mayor. Yes… Our mayor…” She looked back at the crowd. “Well, he has been making that mistake for over thirty years.” Her attention returned to Barry.
“That is no longer a ‘mistake’.” Odessa raised one finger toward him. “That is complicity.”
A murmur rolled through the courtyard, louder this time. Barry shifted where he stood, his eyes moving across the faces surrounding him. Odessa watched him for a moment before turning back toward the people.
Then she gestured with one finger.
“Come here, Mayor.”
Barry hesitated, but Turik shoved him forward.
Barry stumbled toward Odessa, then looked from her to the crowd surrounding the courtyard. The color drained from his face. For a moment, he seemed to consider the people as his only refuge. He turned and tried to run toward them, but several Blue Hearts caught him before he could reach the edge of the gathering and threw him back into the open space before Odessa.
The crowd reacted at once. Some laughed. Others stared in confusion, while many began speaking among themselves, trying to understand what Odessa was accusing him of.
Barry hit the ground on his knees. “O..odessa, please…! You know that is nottrue!”
Odessa began to circle him. “What part is not true?”
Barry struggled to catch his breath. “It... it was not like that…! The Evokians were not... We are a sovereign city!”
“Soverign?” Odessa let out a laugh, “Where is you army? Disbanded at the request of the Evok, Where is your constitution? amended by the Evok, Where is your sovereignty if not on the lips of the Evok.” Odessa spit on the ground.
Barry instinctively put his hands up thinking she was going to strike him.
“This is the cowardice,” Odessa stopped behind him, letting the words carry across the courtyard. “The same cowardice he has displayed for over thirty years! The same cowardice his brother showed when he surrendered to the Evok!”
She stepped around until she stood directly before Barry. “Stand up.”
Barry remained on his knees, shaking.
Odessa's expression hardened. “Stand up!”
Barry slowly began to rise, keeping his hands raised to shield his head.
“Odessa! Please!” His eyes searched hers. “Please…don’t kill me…!”
Odessa turned her back on him. “It was the Blue Hearts that liberated this city from thirty years of Evokian occupation.”
She faced the crowd again. The people were no longer merely listening. Their voices had grown louder, bodies pressing closer together as anger and confusion gave way to something more volatile.
“But it is up to you, the people of Minht, to liberate yourselves from thirty years of incompetence and cowardice from your leader.” Odessa raised her voice over the growing unrest. “Because the road to reconstruction will require actual leadership. Not diplomacy. Not treaties. Not appeasing to tyrants.”
She spat onto the ground.
Then she turned back to Barry.
The dagger appeared so quickly that Barry barely had time to react. Odessa drew its edge across his tunic, slicing through the fabric before seizing him by the collar. She dragged him toward the crowd as the torn cloth opened across his chest.
“I deliver him to you, the people of Minht.” Odessa held Barry out before them.
The men at the front surged forward. One struck Barry across the face. Another clawed at his clothing, and a third reached for him before Odessa shoved him back. Barry twisted desperately, trying to escape her grip and retreat from the hands reaching toward him.
“Odessa, please!”
His foot caught beneath him.
Barry fell hard.
Odessa released him only long enough to step forward, then seized what remained of his tunic and hauled him back to his feet. The already torn fabric ripped further in her grasp.
“Odessa!”
Odessa leaned toward him and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Remember, you told me you were dying for a kiss all those years ago.”
Barry froze.
“Heres one for Pearl, you pig…,” she whispered.
The dagger slipped into his stomach.
Barry's eyes widened as Odessa withdrew the blade and shoved him toward the men waiting at the front of the crowd. He stumbled only a few steps before collapsing beneath the weight of the bodies that descended upon him. The Minhtians surged forward, fists and boots finding him as the anger Odessa had cultivated finally broke loose. Their cries swallowed whatever pleas escaped Barry, and within moments the frenzy had carried him beyond saving.
Odessa did not move.
She watched until Barry stopped moving, then waited another moment before turning her attention to Turik. She lifted both hands and smiled, as though acknowledging the conclusion of a performance she had orchestrated from beginning to end.
Turik approached and placed the Red Dragon into her waiting hand.
Odessa drew the blade.
The weapon flashed above the courtyard, and several Blue Hearts and newly welcomed mercenaries erupted into a thunderous cheer. The Minhtians gradually quieted, their attention drawn from the bloodied body at their feet to the sword held aloft before them.
“You Minhtians may not know the glory that I hold here, and those of you who do may believe it is all northern superstitions.” Odessa lowered the blade slightly, allowing the Red Dragon to remain visible to the entire crowd. “But I do not show you this to persuade you that I possess some magical relic that will deliver us victory. I show you this because it is proof!”
The cheering faded.
“Proof that our abilities are undeniable! Proof that we are more than bandits, mercenaries, or grunts. Proof that Dresdi is dead! And very soon the Evok will follow.”
Odessa lowered the Red Dragon. “To the men of Minht.” She took a breath and looked across the crowd.
“I said I intended to make things right in every manner in which I can. For too long, your destinies have been restrained by the treachery of your leadership. Your lives and potential, determined by what the Evokians would tolerate.”
She took another step toward them. “That time is over!”
The words settled over the courtyard.
“You have a decision to make. You can remain here, rebuild, and pray that the Evokians do not return. Or you can pledge your fealty to me.” Odessa opened one hand toward the ruined city surrounding them. “Allow me to assist you in rebuilding. We have the resources, the funding, and the manpower. All I ask in return is that you give me your trust, and your men who can fight. Because the fight is coming, and you can choose to prepare or to beg on your knees for another thirty years ”
Her gaze moved across the front row, lingering on the Minhtians scattered among her warriors.
“Who will fight?” Then Odessa raised the Red Dragon slightly. “Kneelbefore me!” She said it without hesitation.
For several heartbeats, no one moved.
The men of Minht began speaking among themselves, their voices spreading through the courtyard as uncertainty wrestled with everything they had just witnessed. Odessa simply watched them, the faintest smile resting on her lips.
Turik stepped forward and came to stand beside her.
“That’s quite the ask, Dess.” Turik looked over the scattered groups of men, each one debating what to do.
Odessa’s smile never faltered. “What choice do they have otherwise?”
One man finally lowered himself to a knee.
Then another.
A third followed, and soon the hesitation began to spread through the crowd. Men who had been arguing only moments before looked around and saw their neighbors kneeling, then slowly followed suit. The Blue Hearts among them erupted into applause, their cheers giving courage to those still standing. Odessa joined them, clapping as the remaining Minhtians gradually bent their knees until the courtyard was filled with lowered heads.
West turned toward Broc. Even he had been swept up in the moment, cheering alongside the Blue Hearts as he watched the Minhtians surrender their old allegiance.
Broc caught West looking at him. “Our victory is inevitable.”
West said nothing. His attention returned to the center of the courtyard, where Odessa stood before the kneeling city.
“Now… Rise, Minhtians!” Odessa called.
The men began lifting their heads.
“And believe me when I tell you, neveragain will you kneel to a foreign crown or uniform. Join us and rise up to your new destiny!”
The courtyard exploded.
Odessa waited until the roar began to fade before turning toward the Blue Hearts, mercenaries, and adventurers gathered among the Minhtians. Turik remained beside her, though his expression suggested he knew the next part would be more difficult.
“Good luck with this next part.” He gave her a pat on the back before stepping away.
Odessa watched him go, then faced the assembled warriors.
“Now, to my Blue Hearts, associates, mercenaries, and many adventure seekers. We have Her Majesty’s Shield, and now we have Her Blade. We claim and possess the one true God’s Eye.” She began to pace again, her voice carrying across the courtyard. “The Gods have made certain that there is no room to doubt our abilities. They could not have made it more obvious.”
She stopped and let her gaze pass over the men.
“I’m sure most of you have heard that the position of Lord Mozam’s champion has recently been vacated. While I am sure there are many Bloods among you who are more than worthy of lifting her blade, there is no time for debates, tournaments, or pettiness. Not now ”
The men listened intently.
“I have made the decision as to who will carry us North and beyond.” Odessa took another step, then stopped. “Tyrus, son of Levon.” She pointed behind her.
Tyrus emerged from the rear and came to stand beside Turik.
For a breath, no one seemed to know how to react. Then voices erupted throughout the courtyard. Confusion rippled through the ranks as men turned toward one another, trying to place the unfamiliar name and the man who now stood beneath Odessa’s declaration.
“What…?” West's voice came out before he could stop it. He turned sharply toward Broc. “How can that…”
“NO!” Broc’s shout cut through the confusion. “NO!” He pushed into the crowd, forcing his way between the men as he surged toward the center.
West stood frozen for a moment, watching him go. Then he understood exactly where Broc was headed, and without realizing it, he followed.
“Settle down!” Odessa’s command cut through the courtyard, and the crowd slowly began to quiet. She turned toward the men pressing around Broc, then fixed her attention on him. “I have made my decision. You can object to it later, when we have sacked Pennyroyal.”
“NO!”
The shout came again, louder this time, as Broc forced his way toward the front of the crowd. He stepped into the open space and faced Odessa directly.
“NO! This is not legal! That man is not a Blood! He is an Ura from the south!” Broc pointed toward Tyrus.
Odessa did not look away from him. “Commander Turik, get your man.”
Turik started toward Broc.
“This man has no claim to the Cobalt Crown! He is not a Blood!” Broc’s voice carried across the courtyard as murmurs began spreading through the ranks. Men glanced between him and Tyrus, weighing the accusation.
“Come on, Broc… You heard her. We can handle this later…” Turik stepped in front of him.
Broc’s fist came across before Turik could say another word. The blow sent Turik sprawling.
“You fucking liar!” Broc shouted. “You knew about this!”
Turik looked up from the ground, stunned, while the surrounding men prepared to subdue Broc. Turik waved them off..
Odessa’s hand settled over the hilt of her blade. Her expression hardened as she watched Broc, the warmth she had displayed only moments before completely gone.
Tyrus stepped closer.
His arm remained wrapped, his wounds cleaned and bound, but his posture held none of the weakness Broc might have expected. He looked over the crowd before turning his attention back to Broc.
“If any of you truly believe that the circumstances of your birth, or the blood in your veins, make you a better warrior, then I ask that you prove it to me.”
Broc stepped toward him. “I am owed a challenge.”
A smile slowly appeared on Tyrus’s face as he looked Broc over. “You declined my challenge on the mountain. Suddenly, you find your courage. Why? Because you see a wounded man?”
“You heard the captain.” Turik pushed himself back to his feet and tried once more to force his way between them. “We can handle this in Pennyroyal… Now is not the time!”
“Stop speaking for him.” Tyrus turned toward Turik, his voice sharpening.
“Enough.” Odessa finally stepped forward. “You can kill each other in Pennyroyal when Tyrus has fully recovered from our duel.”
“No.” Tyrus did not hesitate. “I will settle this right now. If I am to lead these men into battle they should have no doubt in my ability.”
“With one arm?” Odessa questioned.
Tyrus smiled and reached for the hilt at Odessa’s side. His fingers closed around the sword, and he drew it from her holster.
Then he turned back toward Broc.
West pushed through the crowd and stopped when he saw the man standing before Broc. “Tyrus!?” His eyes widened. “What… What is happening!?”
Tyrus glanced toward him. “Go home, West.”
The dismissal was immediate. Tyrus turned his attention back to Broc as though West’s arrival had done nothing to change what stood between them.
West remained where he was, staring at him. For hours he had carried the weight of believing Tyrus was gone, and now the man stood in front of him with his arm bound and his eyes fixed on another bloody fight. West barely had time to process the relief before Tyrus made it clear he was not interested in discussing it.
Broc studied Tyrus’s bandaged arm. “Do not let your own hubris walk you into an unnecessary death.”
“Grab a sword.” Tyrus stepped backward, creating space between them.
Odessa approached from behind him, her attention immediately settling on his injuries. “You’re hurt. Broc is an idiot, but he is a dangerous opponent. Wait a few days and I promise you a fair fight.”
Tyrus looked at her. “I will gift you his head.” He reached up, took Odessa gently by the chin, and lifted her face toward his. Then he kissed her passionately.
The courtyard seemed to disappear around them.
When Tyrus pulled away, a grin remained on his face. “After all… I owe you for last night.”
Broc’s expression changed instantly.
The anger that had been burning beneath his challenge suddenly became something far more vicious. His hand tightened around his sword, and he swung the blade through the air in a sharp signal that he was ready.
Odessa could not hide her smile.
She looked into Tyrus’s eyes and seemed to find exactly what she had been searching for there. He was hurt, still recovering from their duel, but none of that mattered. Whatever she had seen in him the night before was still there now.
“Very well.” Odessa turned toward Broc and the gathered crowd. “A duel for the Red Dragon.”
Approval surged through the courtyard.
“At sundown, we will reconvene here in the Governor’s Courtyard.” Odessa studied the men for a moment before lowering her hand. “Let us return to work. There is much to do.”
The crowd slowly scattered, voices breaking into excited conversations as the men returned to their duties. Tyrus and Odessa disappeared among them, leaving Broc standing alone in the courtyard.
West approached him. “Broc, I’m begging you to reconsider.”
Broc gave him no answer. His eyes remained fixed on the place where Tyrus and Odessa had vanished. After a moment, he glanced toward West, then turned and walked away.
West watched him go.
Turik approached from behind. “I’m sorry, West. There was nothing I could do.”
West turned toward him. “You… knew about this?”
Turik hesitated. “Just recently. She made her decision two days ago.”
West stared at him.
Two days.
His mind went back to the dungeon. To that night when he had gone to see Tyrus. To Turik waiting outside the door, already there before West had even arrived.
“That night when I went to see Tyrus, you were waiting for me outside the dungeon.” West's voice grew quieter. “Odessa sent you, didn’t she?”
Turik’s eyes shifted away. “I... yeah.” He swallowed. “But she just wanted to make sure you were all right.”
West studied him. “You mean she wanted to make sure I was all right with handing Tyrus over to her?”
“No! No… That was not it.” Turik stepped closer. “West, come on! I can’t have you angry at me too! I had no idea…!”
West said nothing.
He looked past Turik toward the courtyard, where Broc had already disappeared in one direction, and Tyrus and Odessa had gone in another. For the first time, the pieces fit together without needing anyone to explain them.
Broc had been right.
West turned his back.
“West…!”
He began walking away.
“Oh… Come on! West! Don’t do this to me! Not right now!”
West never looked back.
Turik stood alone in the courtyard, watching his friend disappear after the other.
“Shit…!” He kicked at a patch of dust and stood there, staring at the empty space between the paths they had taken.