They've returned to the house, but everything still feels surreal for Uriel.
Technically, he was able to get something out of their visit to the city, but not enough to solve the whole thing.
After going through there, he realized that what he needed wasn't the change of environment or pacing, but time.
No matter how logically he thinks of it, he isn't racing against anything at all.
He's young and has all the time by his side. But for some reason, he could feel the lingering need to rush things up.
That was the main cause of his stress.
His logical side isn't agreeing at all with his heart and guts and other intrinsic nature he built up before. It seemed like the journey back drained the old woman even more.
She never said a word or even prepared food and just went straight up to her bedroom to sleep.
Uriel is also feeling the exhaustion from his body because of that journey, but his mind is wide awake.
He tried sleeping, but couldn't bring himself to.
It was in the middle of the night that he finally gave up fighting a battle against his consciousness.
He brought the fixed kerosene lamp with him and went out to go into the forest.
He remembered the route leading to where the spirits lair was and when he reached it, the white cloth had been fixed by two ends of a large tree trunk. The fallen dried leaves rustled beneath his feet along with a few broken branches.
When he crossed the borderline, it felt like the world split into two dimensions facing each other and he's in the middle of it. A flashy, bright flame started igniting from afar, which thrilled Uriel, thinking that it must be Sinclair.
He ran towards the flame excited to meet up with him.
He and the flame continuously bolted towards each other until he felt like something was off.
The blue flame isn't still morphing into a human form and the color seemed off – like it was a little darker and more intense.
The flame had caught up against him, almost burning up his skin until a force from behind yanked him out of the way. He fell down and the crickets cried loudly.
As he recovers himself, he looks up and finally sees what he came for.
"You reckless piece of brat!" Sinclair scolded him immediately. "You could've died there! I told you that other spirits reside in this place other than me! Is that so hard to understand, you cheeky, insolent, little child?"
Uriel dusted off his shorts while standing up.
He could feel his butt aching from the fall and some leaves sticking off his skin.
"I'm really sorry. I thought that flame was you, so I ran towards it."
"Ran towards it? Are you really that stupid, huh? Even if it were me, why would you run towards it and why do you think I would be the kind of ghost to run towards you?"
"Huh? I thought you missed me."
"I didn't! You're an eyesore!"
"Oh, come on, you don't have to be shy," Uriel giggled, trying to clutch onto the ghost. "I know you've actually missed having to talk with someone! You don't seem to be that friendly with the other ghosts."
"Shut up! I am fairly famous in this lair!"
Uriel only laughed it off and sat comfortably at one of the rooted out branches of a huge, sturdy tree.
"It's been a while since we last met," The boy started off. "What have you been up to?"
"Nothing much," Sinclair floated carelessly, facing the boy. "It's not like ghosts can do so much, even the mundane things, you know."
"Yeah, I thought so too. I just want to share with you that I've been in the city, which is why I couldn't visit you for some time."
The ghost looked away, seemingly uninterested. "Hmp! I don't really care whether you visit me or not! It's not like I like you or something! Like I told you, you're an eyesore."
Uriel chuckled, "Yes, yes, I know. Anyway, I've caught some information about the incident involving my parents. It seems like I was part of it, but Olia Isema's story doesn't match it."