You can't risk walking past the statues. If they were living statues, they could easily kill you. If it was fifty against one, it wouldn't be a contest. That's a risk you can't take. You turn around and start walking back in the direction from which you came. Selis and Rahm are behind you, and your shadow is before you. You're panged by doubt as to whether you are doing the right thing. Every step renders more useless and purposeless what you have done. If you go all the way back, the entire trip would have been useless. Every step you take means that everything you did since you past that point coming here has been useless. Every step takes you back. Every step is lost distance, lost time. You curse it. You recognize every weed, every rock, the contour of the ground, from when you past by earlier. What are you going to say to King Gareth? You couldn't do it? You gave up? You were scared away by statues? What will he say? Back so soon? You imagine the expression of surprise on his face when you walk into the throne room.

You can't get over the feeling that everything you've done so far has been for nothing. The feeling does not subside and it sits heavy in your heart. You pass by the rock formation. The music sounds to you like a funeral dirge, and being unable to shake it from your head is torture. You pass by where the faeries were. There's no sign of them. Then you hear rustling in the bushes. Twice you hear whispering in the bushes. You ignore all of it. You wish you could shut the whole world out of your mind. You reach the Avlar River. It's evening now. You want to get across before it gets dark so you don't have to sleep in this strange land. You'll camp where you did the night before. You climb onto the Tsumi. You balance yourself, and walk slowly, putting one foot in front of the other. You curse the fact that you couldn't stay on the quest longer. If you had stayed longer, and then failed, there wouldn't be shame in it. However to come back after only one day will be a source of shame. The King will assume he sent the wrong person. He'll regret having sent you. Laverdere will be disappointed. He'll try to cheer you up by blaming your youth. You 'll endure all of this, and they were probably pefectly normal statues anyway. Your feet slip on a smooth section of rock. You yelp as you reach with your arms and barely manage to grab hold of the bridge. Your feet are inches above the rank water. It's because it was so dark you lost your footing. It got darker quicker than you predicted. You try to lift yourself up and you lose your grip. You scream as you tumble downwards. With a splash, you hit the fetid water, and it closes above you. The water is viscous like oil. It's like falling into slime. It's pitch black and deathly cold. You flail your arms but you can't swim through this slime. You curse your backpack. The taste of the water makes you want to throw up. Your clothes are waterlogged. The vulcrus stings your nose. You sink and the top of the water is now several feet above you. The oxygen in your lungs is depleted. You feel pain in your chest. You panic. Cursing everything, you pass out.