Walking toward his house, Lazar started thinking really, really hard, what great spirit he or one of his ancestors could have offended in the past to be brought into such a situation.

  He knew that the being was real, and not a trick of his mind, or a prank of some old colleague. And, thinking back to what Erad had said, the situation was actually dire and it seemed like he was the one burned with this heavy task. He really wished he had some years less.

  He didn't have the energy of a fifty year old anymore, being twice that age today. He may have had some ideas of what he may need, though he did not actually know where to start with his, quote unquote, glorious quest. But most of all, he dreaded one thing: having to explain everything to his dear Liliane.

  The nervous old man got the keys out of his trousers, and stopped in front of the door. He took a deep breath, put the key in the lock, and opened it. He entered the house, closed the door behind himself, hung his large brimmed pointy hat and his dark green scarf on the coat hanger near the front door, and went to the living room, where he was sure he would find his wife.

  And there she was. She was facing the wall, but he did not need to look at her to remember her features. Liliane was as pretty in his eyes as the first day he saw her: her eyes a deep, dark brown speckled with gold, a big, curve nose that gave her face a fierce look, coupled with a short chin,her always slightly red cheeks, in contrast with her ever present eyebags, and her raven-black hair, that smelled slightly of elderberry and wine, collected in a messy braid.

  She was trimming one of her plants,putting away some of the leaves in a satchel, but hearing his steps, mixed with the sound of a walking cane, she turned around. Liliane tried to speak, visibly irritated, but Lazar interrupted her, promptly starting to tell his tale of the weird birthday morning he just lived through, still a bit shocked.

  “A talking lion”. she asked, raising a brow.

  “Yes dear”.

  “A big, no, enormous, talking silver lion. Claws and all. With glowing orbs for eyes”.

  “Indeed my dear”.

  She facepalmed. Then, she took a long, deep breath.

  “Where are you hiding your stash?” She said, sternly. “Where are the bottles, love?”

  “Oh come on, I haven't been drinking again!” Lazar answered, fairly upset “I don't want to look for another liver!” he was growing red in the face. “And most of all, I’m certain it wasn’t a hallucination.”

  “Then you are going senile”, she rebutted. “Clearly a case of dementia. You missed the early one, it was just a matter of time. It would have happened, I know it, you know it, there is a point where one's mind just starts making shit up and forgetting everything else. This is clearly your moment, old coot.”

  “I'm not going senile!” he bellowed “I can prove it to you! Look!”

  He took the walking cane in his hand and looked at it really hard.

  “Are we really doing this?” Liliane mumbled.

  The cane started morphing again into a lance, humming with power. The old woman was unimpressed.

  “Dear. Beloved. My dearest companion”, she said, gently “You enormous bag of horseshit. You were a con man. An illusionist. Do you really think that this parlor trick with a stick you found while walking will make me believe your fantasy?"

  “Touch it.” he said, sternly.

  The woman twirled her braid on her index finger.

  “Oh dear, you won't distract me with your good looks now-”

  “The lance, you old vixen! Touch the lance!” he shrieked.

  “Yes, yes, ok!" she laughed, her husky voice filling the room. "Stop screaming, for the Numen's sake!”

  Liliane reached for the lance. The lance moved away. She tried again, and again it moved away from her hand.

  “This isn't funny, Lazar”.

  “No it isn't! Stop moving, you stupid piece of junk!”

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  At his utterance, the lance froze on spot. Liliane finally managed to touch it, but lifted her hand almost immediately from the silver weapon.

  “Ouch! I think this thing burned away a layer of skin from my fingers!” she lamented.

  “Well, it's the lance of undoing, the one from the legends, said to have dissolved the Evils for good and made the wrongs right.” he replied, chuckling a bit “What did you expect would happen?”

  “Not a forced exfoliation. And, love, when did you tell me what it was, exactly?” she asked, sardonically.

  “I literally started with that!” the old man seemed a bit exasperated.

  “Oh, do forgive me if I heard ‘talking giant lion’ and forgot the rest!”

  “Shush now”, he said, regretting it almost immediately.

  “Don't you dare shush me, Lazar”, she said, twirling a finger in the air and poking at him with her other hand, “or I'll curse your ass to sing every time you fart. Again.”

  “No! No, please. Ok. Ok dear. Last time was enough. They still laugh at me when I stroll through the village, sometimes. Still. This is the truth, and it seems like I do not have much time, with the end of the world some moons away, so I need to pack and... Hm... I'll probably have to call in some favors and go check on some old friends.”

  She smiled.

  “We will have to pack. You actually think I'd let you go by yourself? You really are going senile, dear.”

  “I can go by myself without issues! I'm a grown man!” he said, crossing his arms “I have a century of experience on my back!”

  “It's been twenty years since your last lonely escapade and you came back home with two black eyes, three broken ribs, one missing tooth and a new knee joint” she stated. “You won’t convince me. I’m going with you”.

  “Hey now, the knee was part of the plan!”

  He seemed a bit hurt, and the look in Liliane’s eyes became gentler.

  “My point still stands, love. You are a danger to yourself, if left alone. I know that damn well. It's how we met”.

  “But what of the kids?” He seemed really concerned, his eyes a bit tearful. “What if they come looking for us?”

  She gave him the side eye, nonplussed.

  “The ‘Kids’, as you still call them, have at least four hundred moons Lazar. They would never come unannounced and they come very, very rarely. Usually on big events like the Numenuptials celebration. So we can leave, I don't know, a letter for them, on the kitchen counter, or a mocking Jay with a recorded message, in case they come here. And in case they do not, which they probably will, it's safe to say that We could maybe go knock on their doors and ask for a little help with what seems as a life-ending danger”.

  “I don't want to endanger them. There is no need” he replied.

  “Oh, come on now, they are grown ups, good in their fields and probably interested in not dying in five years, so maybe we could try and contact them... If we happen to pass by their cities” she suggested. “Okay?”

  He sighed, and pinched his brow.

  “Good. Good then. First we should still go talk with old Willgamber in the temple, to at least ask where we should start looking to find the Numens. You know I was never that big on religious stuff”.

  “And we were excommunicated thirty five moons ago, remember? By the man himself?”

  He looked at her, pensive, trying to recall why. He really couldn't, tho, so he changed the subject.

  “Well, maybe it's time we petition for a… Reintegration to the scores of the loved ones of the world, is it not? A last minute change of heart not to be lost forever in the belly of the Night”.

  “Or we could play the senile card and act like we do not remember ever being excommunicated, ask for access to the small library of the temple for religious purposes - like we are not already actually planning to exterminate their entire pantheon - and go from there”.

  “Yes. Yeah, I like your idea.” he paused. “Or we could do a good old Kansas City shuffle”.

  “A what now? Ok, ok, old coot, time for your medicines and our breakfast, I really think you are slipping now so go in the kitchen, sit, and wait for me”. She started getting back toward her plants. “I still have to trim my lovelies”.

  “Yes ma'am, sure ma'am.” he answered, laughing and shaking his head, and went into the other room. It was sparkling clean, all the hardwood furniture was waxed and you couldn't find a speck of dust if you tried to scry it.

  He sat in his favorite place, the one opposite the window overlooking the woods. The cushion of his seat was firm and comfortable. Worth every lyre.

  His wife arrived a bit later, and the two started preparing their breakfast, brewing tea and coffee, toasting some slices of bread over the fire and getting out two different jars of jam from a chilled cupboard.

  They ate together, throwing back and forth some ideas for the upcoming departure. The old man took a sip from a small vial, while his wife got out of the room.

  “You know, I really think there is something really, really important that we are forgetting about”. Lazar said, loudly.

  Liliane came into the kitchen, practically gliding on the floor with her furry black slippers, and planted a kiss on the lips of the old man, softly, before leaving a small, wrapped package on the kitchen table.

  “I'm not an old fogey like you, my mind has never been sharper. I don't forget. Happy thousand moons, my dear”.