Whiteriver Village. The first place I'd ever tried to save. The first official quest of my adventure with Soltair. Or maybe it was more accurate to call it his adventure. The ground felt completely foreign beneath my boots.
"You recognize this village?" Luke asked.
"Whiteriver Village. We saved the people from a basilisk, and...well, we tried," I said, my voice small. More memories flowed into my mind, breaching the fog. I stumbled toward the barn, and nearly fell, but Fable pushed against my side. More tears welled up in my eyes.
"What are you doing? The best place to sleep will be the inn," Luke said, following behind me.
"I can't," I whispered brokenly. "I have to know."
The doors hung ajar, the hinges broken. Snow had begun to gather on the eaves and rough upward-facing ridges of the wall planks. I pushed on the door, putting all of my weight against it, but it didn't budge.
