Damien woke up half an hour or so after I did. He ate some soup and opted to go right back to sleep, this time properly in a bedroll. Olivia took it as permission to do the same.

  Orwyn and Borin returned to the fire briefly simply to let us know they were back, but they had scavenged some oddities they were looking to clean up before going to sleep themselves. With a small reminder to put out the fire, they left.

  That left Drifter and I sitting alone by a fire for the first time in weeks. We had not travelled together long, nor had it been that long since we had last experienced this, but it still felt nostalgic. As much as his stoic, silent nature frustrated me much of the time, his presence around a campfire felt calming, almost reassuring.

  I wasn't waiting for this moment to ask, exactly, but being alone with Drifter stirred my previous thoughts about the intersection between his goals and mine. I followed him with the belief that I would be recording the story of a man attaining godhood as one of the new Septemvirate; what were his goals? It was a question I had never asked, and gods knew he would never bring it up himself.

  And so I broached the subject. "I started following you out of... intrigue, I suppose. I think you have the capacity to truly change this world. But I've never asked: what are your goals?"

  Drifter stared into the fire. It wasn't an easy question for anyone, really, but for him it was even more complex. "I don't think I know."

  He looked at his hands, nine rings on his fingers. This was the point where I finally noticed that the ring of black stone on the outermost finger of his left hand was missing. A few details linked together in my mind, from the past week and further back, and I realized: "Those are oath rings."

  He nodded.

  "But you're supposed to die if you break the oath. You swear on your self..." Another nod while my brain grouped together various thoughts I'd had over the past weeks. "But you did lose yourself. Your memories, your personality. So much of what makes you, well, you. Because you couldn't simply die, could you?"

  Confusion crossed Drifter's eyes as he looked at me. This part he didn't know. "You know of the Awakened, yes?"

  "Ta."

  "I suspect you are one. There aren't a lot of other explanations for your strength or skill, to say nothing of the odd memory ability you demonstrated in Beorne." I tossed another hunk of wood on the fire, collecting the evidence in my mind. "A demigod like Varys, descended from Arestria even if his blood was diluted, couldn't stand up to you in the slightest. Borin, the more I see of him, seems to be a remarkably skilled and sturdy man, but you swatted him away like a fly. And that bit where you broke your bonds like paper at your execution? I heard the rumours on our way out of the city, and I think I believe them."

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  Drifter sat in silence for a bit, unsure how to process the information. I grabbed a stick we were using to tend the fire and shuffled some of the coals around to keep things burning slowly but consistently. Eventually he settled on his own question. "Awakened by who?"

  I shrugged. "That I don't know. Even the idea that you're an Awakened is just a theory, albeit my leading one. But if you couldn't be killed for whatever reason, maybe the oath tried to take from you whatever else it could. It's not exactly a well-studied process."

  He looked between the fire and his hands, considering his life so far - rather, the parts he could remember - and where it would go from there. "I feel... compelled to go south. In Beorne I felt compelled to grant safety."

  "The black ring. Did the compulsion end when it broke?"

  He shook his head. "Only once I told the truth of the Regent."

  "Expose the government, show it needs replacement. Braven is a corrupt lord, he'll hold on as hard as he can, but eventually he'll be ousted in a bloody uprising, hopefully replaced with someone who truly cares for the city. 'Protect the tribe, no matter the cost.'"

  Drifter looked at me, his expression flickering between recognition and confusion. I explained, "It's from an old story I was told of the founding of Beornia. Beorne Wolfblood's band of men swore that on their selves, and many have sworn similar oaths since."

  "You... Virilus. How much do you know about me?" Drifter was wary, confused, feeling that his trust was being strained in a way he couldn't have predicted.

  And how could he have? A man with no past, no memory, knows nothing of what his is. He knows nothing of his vulnerabilities and strengths, knows nothing of his goals or promises. He simply moves according to his urges. To go south, to end a tyrant, to protect a friend. But he doesn't know his friends, either. Maybe they knew him before he lost his memories. Maybe, in a time he couldn't recall, they were enemies. Drifter was not a paranoid man by nature, but he was well aware of the gaps in his understanding of the world around him.

  Of course, none of that applied to me. "I know nothing for sure. Normally, I would wait until I'm more certain to make these types of statements, but I expect certainty won't be found in much of your past." I knocked over a piece of wood in the fire, then leaned another fresh piece on top of it. "An oath is traditionally accompanied by a ring. You wear ten - well, nine now - but I don't know for sure whether they are all oath rings. If they are... how many layers of self have been scraped away over the years? I don't think we could ever know, but I think they still hold some sway over you regardless, thus your actions in Beorne. The question is, why do you want to go south? Which ring compels you?"

  Of course, he had no answer. But I had the start of a theory. "Drifter, I think you stand at the peak of humanity. Not simply because of your strength, but the cold compassion you've shown in our journey and the quiet resilience in the face of any stressor both point to you as someone above the weakness of man."

  I pointed at him with the fire stick, an ember on the end floating off into the night.

  "I think you go south because you seek a place in the Contest. I think you feel a compulsion to become a god."

  It was the first time I had seen shock on Drifter's face, his lazy eyes finally widening in fear, because underneath those emotions was a recognition that I had just spoken the truth. A man with nothing, not even himself, realized he had to become a god.