Now the fate has brought us together as one—
The demanding soul—Viour, carved a smile upon his own face—sweet yet gentle, full of mischief, as he saw his poet-to-be—
The gentle soul, Yvole, looked upon his direction and raised a brow.
"Ah, the bravo spirit!" quoth he.
"What thunder struck you two times to come here at the Lauren Valley?" he asked—almost sluggishly.
Viour crept closer and at length sat next to Yvole.
"Nothing. Just a little bit under the weather," he halted ere continuing.
"Heard of this valley—the sonorous voice that kept it alive?" His tone was calm, yet his face saddened.
Yvole looked at him—almost marveling at the confession and astonied by the sight.
Viour—not missing any detail of Yvole's astonied demeanor—chuckled slightly.
"O' dearer poet, tell—why ere you bestow your given name to me?" he asked, curious about the truth.
"Ah, bravo spirit—I too wonder and ponder the same things," quoth Yvole.
"Perhaps your formidable spirit marvels me utmost."
Gentle silence was greeted after the quoth—silence deafening the natural voices.
The night was gloom—full of wary, but the two souls feared nothing except the world of humans. They found comfort in each solitude they provided.
No souls dared to defy the silence—none, until a miscellaneous voice intervened.
Viour—sharp as ever—turned his head toward the direction, eyes full of curiosity and spirit, while Yvole, on the other hand, minded no more the voice as he was immersed in his own verses.
"Is this what it was said among the folks?" Viour pondered—remembering the warning of folktales among the folks: the sonorous voice that came from a cranny hidden among stones. Yvole, not favored to be intervened, wasted no time as he stood up.
Viour looked up to Yvole—
"Whither goest thou?" he asked Yvole.
"To the voice—that seems to summon us," Yvole said calmly.
Viour immediately stood up, following the footsteps of Yvole to the sonorous voice.
Yvole held high the candlelight and walked in the direction that had been guided by the booming voice.
After some time of walking among the gloomy dark of the deep forest—they stumbled upon a cave, hidden among the trees.
The cave looked ancient and long forgotten—but the voice was still loud and clear coming from the cave.
Viour—unable to suppress his curiosity—began to step forward without a candlelight, which caused Yvole to follow him closely so they wouldn't be separated by the gloomy dark of the cave.
But then—they stumbled upon one door—a rotten, dust-covered door with life growing on it.
Yvole hesitated and quoth, "Perhaps this is a warning," but Viour, having a whole different perspective of mind, spoke his thoughts: "Or it's a temptation!" His tone was almost excited.
"Fools!" Yvole said to Viour in a scolding manner—"If it was a temptation, then it is also a damnation!"
"But where's the fun at?" Viour answered—the curiosity conquered his right and wrong.
"The voice is still calling for us!" he said—almost saying it's obvious.
Viour took a few steps toward the door and reached for the handle of the door despite Yvole's warnings.
He opened the door—the door creaked loudly as the old wooden surfaces met the rocks.
After the door was opened—both Yvole and Viour were terrified by the horrifying sight upon them.