Abigail stood there in a daze for quite a while. It was not until Braun crouched by the stream and washed the obvious bloodstains from his body that she suddenly realized—
Grimson was dead.
The Dream Weaver who held her past, who could tell her who she truly was, had become a silent corpse. Brain matter was smeared across the rocks, while dark red fluid spread through the cracks in the moss.
An immense sense of bewilderment instantly flooded her mind.
She still did not know who she really was... nor did she know how much of her past memory was real, and how much had been casually fabricated by that Goblin.
Braun wiped the water from his hands as he walked over from the stream. Seeing Abigail's expression, he paused, then glanced toward the cabin.
"Let's go back and take a look," Braun said bluntly. "That Goblin said he could 'return' your memories to you. He couldn't have kept every memory he handled inside his own head. There had to be somewhere he stored them."
Unless he had conveniently destroyed or discarded them.
Abigail naturally understood what Braun left unsaid. She nodded silently, turned, and followed him.
After taking only a few steps, they suddenly realized something sounded wrong.
They turned around at the same time and saw that the Cloak, which had been quietly still until then, was fiddling with the Goblin's corpse—
It circled the body several times, first tugging at its clothes, then pulling its legs. Finally, apparently disgusted by all the blood, it grabbed one of the corpse's arms instead.
If a Golem's nerves could transmit emotions, the veins on Braun's forehead would definitely have started throbbing.
"What are you doing?" he said with a frown, his tone unfriendly. "Don't play with every piece of