Heroes of Erhi

[Mnemosyne]

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It could be said that the day began like any other. The sun sleepily peeked over the horizon, but the faint haze of mist clinging to the damp hills dulled it's glow to a watery pink, giving the surroundings a rosy hue not natural to the area. In the east, the faint chirping of birds could be heard. In the opposite direction, the distant crashing of waves was the only indicator as to how close the site was to the coast. On a clear day, the faint shimmering of the sun off the water could be seen, but that was not the case on this morning. No, on this morning the site seemed to be lost to a world of its own.

The forms rose from the ever-shifting mist, their shapes breaking up the otherwise level horizon. They were blocky, unrefined and undefined, seemingly meaningless, or perhaps even natural. They stood silent and yet ominous, like icebergs just barely breaking the surface of the sea, hidden, and yet dangerous. The only shape that stood out was the single column, perched at the pinnacle of the tallest hill, breaking through the heavy shroud that covered the lower ground, with the rising sun reflecting off the shining white marble. It seemed almost a beacon, calling travelers through the mist as a lighthouse guides sailors safely to the coast.

But the path to that shining pillar was narrow, winding its way through the mist as it slowly circled its way up the hill, between those shapes, and soon the nature of the site became apparent. The only word fitting for the site was ruin. Those were blocks, made of the same white marble as the column. They had been part of the same building, once, but those days were now over. They became visible through the mist as the distance was closed, overgrown by vines and moss, as though the very earth itself was trying to swallow it up, to drag the last hints of it out of existence, until it remained only in memories, though those too would fade in time.

And perhaps this was the case, that the earth was trying to bury this, for it quickly became clear that it was not the passing of time that had laid low such a mighty structure. It had not been forgotten, deserted, or abandoned. It had not been left to lay fallow, slowly neglected over time until the last of those tending to it faded away. It had not defied the very laws of gravity and paid the price, nor been worn away by wind and water, until it could no longer stand. It had not passed out of use through any cause of nature.

No, for those towering stones told a story, one etched into their very being, visible even still, despite the passing of time. They wore their battle scars like any proud warrior would. Gouges etched in their faces, made by some fearsome beast with claws as hard as stone. Coverings of ash and scorch marks. Some, even, were crushed completely, as though they'd been set upon by some force well beyond a mortal's capacity to understand, rended in a fierce battle beyond comprehension, the very God Wars themselves. They had been through a bloodbath, fought, and lost. The once mighty structure had been thrown down from the heights, pillaged and ravaged by its enemies, torn apart until there was nothing left, save that one defiant survivor standing firm in the center of it all, as if to prove that with all it had borne, it was still there, that it would not submit and be lost to the ravages of time.

And it was here, almost at the very edge of the world, as most knew it, that the heroes had been called. Called to fight once again, but not for control of the world, as the battle so long ago had been, but to save the world. For though it was a dark time, just as that column, a very pillar of light, shone out through the darkness, the light still stood, and would not abandon the world it had created, that it so loved. No, it would bring forth its champions, to shine forth for the world and guide them through the troubles, to whatever end.

But the burden was not theirs to bear alone, for while it was them who would reshape the world around, they were not left to do so without aid. The temple where they had been called was not quite so empty as it had first appeared. For there, amidst the ruins of times long past, sat the girl, settled at the foot of the beacon that had drawn her there. Slim and yet beautiful, with golden hair that shone like the sun, and eyes of brilliant blue, deeper than the ocean. The wings folded across her back, as white as freshly fallen snow, marked her race for all to see. Dressed only in a thin white dress, she was exposed to the biting chill of the wind, which over the past weeks had been growing steadily colder as winter dug its freezing grip into the northern lands. And yet she did nor shiver, nor seek shelter, but sat completely unaffected. Waiting calmly to fulfill her duty. For the heroes to come, as it was foretold they would.

And finally, as the sound of footsteps rang out on the stone path winding its way through the ruins, the lifted her head, piercing eyes seeking out the source of the noise. The figure was still a while off, picking their way through the tangled maze of stone and earth, but they stood out amidst the mist, the cover which was beginning to dissipate in the vibrant sunshine, in which it could not stand. And she, from her high spot near the single standing pillar, saw them. The heroes were beginning to arrive. And finally, finally, it had begun.

 

[Korelle]

The cold wind blew against the tall, slender figure standing at the edge of a stone path, looking off into the distance at a single stone pillar. They weren't bothered much by the cold, used to it after years of living in the northern lands. The figure was at a crossroads, yet again.

For months, Cailin felt something within her. She brushed it off as something to do with her Aurae side. The feeling didn't leave, just grew with greater intensity each day. As the feeling grew, Cailin found herself staring off toward the north. Every time she did, the feeling within her felt as if it were pulling her to go that way. And every time, Cailin ignored it. She just took it as her becoming stir crazy, having not left the small village in months when her mother became ill. Cailin used to accompany her Father when he went to the city to sell the pelts from the animals they killed. Instead of helping her Father with the hunt, she stayed in their home taking care of her Mother and the animals her Father brought home the previous day. Her Mother got better and for the first time in months, Cailin went with her Father to the city. The feeling was still there as they headed towards the city and returned home but wasn't as present as before. It was the night of their return home that Cailin's mother, Lurra, spoke to her. Cailin was sitting outside staring off northward. This wasn't the first time Lurra had seen her daughter stare off towards the north. It was the time to speak with Cailin.

Lurra sat down next to her daughter on the bench and took her hand. Cailin had startled at the touch, lost in her staring. She smiled at her mother and squeezed the hand in hers. Her Mother had smiled in return and used her free hand to move some hair out of her daughter's face. Staring at her only child for a moment before beginning to tell a story passed down from her own mother and her mother's mother and so on. Cailin listened as her Mother told a story that sounded like a fairytale. A story of those from near and far that would feel the call to the ruined Temple of Light. That they would come together to protect and save the world. Cailin had asked her Mother why she had told her this story as she was far too old to be told a fairytale. Her Mother had answered that until recently she believed that it too was a fairytale until she saw Cailin looking off northward. Cailin reluctantly admitted she felt a pull of some sort, almost a need to go north. Lurra had given her daughter a sad smile and told her to follow the pull, even if it proved to be nothing in the end. It was time for Cailin to leave the small village and become her own person.

That was four days ago.

Here, at the edge of the ruined Temple stood Cailin. This was the farthest north she had ever been on her own and the longest she had been away from home. The pull was stronger now, almost physically pulling her towards the single stone pillar standing in the middle of the ruins. With a deep breath, Cailin started to make her way through the ruins towards the stone pillar.

Slowly, Cailin made her way up to the stone pillar. She stopped every once in a while to make sure she stayed on course towards the pillar. The ruins were like a maze and a few times had to backtrack. The mist was finally dissipating, making the journey a little easier. With every step towards the pillar Cailin made, the pull in her chest lessened. This stone pillar is where it was leading her. What she would find once she got there, Cailin didn't know. Even after four days and being this close where the feeling in her was leading her, Cailin still wasn't completely convinced the story her Mother told her was true. She was about to find as she had made it to where the stone pillar stood.

As Cailin neared the pillar, a figure sitting at the bottom of the pillar could be made out. She slowed her pace, slowly reaching for the bow strapped to her back as a precaution. With each step closer to the pillar, the figure became clearer. It made Cailin stop several paces from the bottom of the pillar and the figure sitting there.

A beautiful slender girl with white wings folded behind her back. She had blond hair that shone brightly in the sun and only wore a white dress in the cold. Cailin noticed, even from where she was, that it didn't seem to bother the girl. She didn't seem threatened by Cailin being here, just remained sitting where she was. To Cailin, it seemed as if she was waiting.

Waiting for what, Cailin didn't know. What Cailin did know was that the pull within her was gone. It relieved Cailin but also scared her as to what it meant. Just as the winged girl was, Cailin stood there looking at her, waiting and hoping for answers.

 

[Green Door]

It was an odd thing, shapeshifting. Yes, one changes their body, which to most is perfectly strange enough, but most don’t heed the other risks of such a bizarre art. The most skilled shapeshifters boast that they truly become the animal they seek to imitate, immersing themselves in the thoughts and instincts of base animals and higher creatures. They will say this is one of the true strengths of the art, to have the ability to not only be as the creature you become, but to think as it as well. Of course, this great boon, as fantastic as it is may be, comes with a heavy price to the unprepared. There are stories, drifting in whispers through the esoteric halls of mages and scrawled in the margins of ancient grimoires, that warn against such recklessness. Dark tales of wizards turned feral, lost in the woods or the rolling waves as their minds turn from man to beast, never to walk among their true kin again. These stories are told as a warnings, but any mage that has survived their first year will tell you they are very true. Yes, they mingle with more fantastic rumors. Beasts who become men, forms taken from things glimpsed in observatories, sapient races leaving marks that persist through change, people made unaware of what they once were, lost in the endless seas of faces and names, those sorts of classroom whispers overheard in every arcane institution. As terrifying as those particular ones may be, they do not have any evidence of their existence. At least, not yet. The rumor of broken minds is only a rumor, however, to those who are lucky enough to not have seen it for themselves. Many a rabid wolf killed was once a human being.

To those who repeat such warnings, there is a select few who have a question they’d like to ask. Not many, mind you, three at most and three with very little knowledge of the arcane at that. They’ve never left home, never seen any true mages aside from the village healer, but they know magic when they see it. They also know the girl. They don’t actually know if she is a girl, not with the way she looks. The way they’ve come across her throws that into doubt, and the even fewer who still abide her presence harbor even more doubts as to her race. Whatever she may be, it has left them with a need for an answer to a very particular question. It’s not one they’re likely to be able to ask, not unless it was sought out, but it still burns within them. Perhaps one day they may have the chance for closure or at least get someone more qualified to tackle it. It’s not even all that complicated, not to them, not after what they’ve seen. One almost feels sorry for that first mage who will stumble across them, greeted from their weary travels with that dreadful little query. For all the talk to man turned beast, there is another aspect few wish to think about.

What happens when a shifter was never given the chance to be a man?
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She had been on the move for days now. She loved it, always had. Running along ridge of that lonely gorge, feeling the frost-covered rocks at her feet, slick and cool... It was a feeling few got to experience, not like her. She could hear the rocks shifting under her steps, skittering into the depths below as she streaked past. She could smell them, too, damp and earthy and old. The wind howled around her, bringing the scents and sounds and tastes that it always did. She was so far from home now she barely recognized any of them, and that doubled her fevered efforts. Where as she? She knew North. Northwest. It was there, in the cold places. That was where she needed to go. She has seen it in her dreams, in the starless skies, deep in the hollows of the earth. It would not leave her, so she had set out to find it herself. She would stop it, and she would do it alone.

There were others, yes, but they were in the gulley below. They had been with her before, on top of the gorge. One had fallen, then another, and soon the group had moved below to avoid any more tumbles. They hadn’t stopped moving, even as their kin went screaming into the dark. She had to respect that, even if she didn’t understand what their task was. They weren’t feverish, not like her. They were hollow, slow, half-dead with hunger. They were with their carts and their animals, walking in lines like sheep. She didn’t know who they were or what they were carrying, but she didn’t care. All she did was feel sorry for them. They were on two legs.

The stone held no power over Ynna. She had soared over the crags on feathered wings, tore through the cobbled streets of man as a maddened hound, broke down walls as an ursine behemoth, slid under mounds with scaled as smooth as glass, left all attempts to stop her failed and broken in her wake. Sleep was something she had gone without, stopping only to tear her food from fallen prey, red and steaming. She was only vaguely aware that she had been going in a completely straight line the entire time, longer than she’d ever been before. Forest had given way to mountain, mountain gave way to towns, and the towns had finally given way to ice. The cold did not bother her, not in her current form. If anything, it gave her the strength she needed to continue.

It was her element. Her bone-white color had finally come into its own. She could take the color of her kin as it should be, yes, but white was what she was and what she usually became. It was a hindrance in her territory, most times. The greens and browns did little to conceal such an uncommon shade. When winter had fallen in the forest, however, she could stalk anything. A cloak of snow would come, hiding her presence and muffling her already quiet steps. Nobody saw her coming, not even the huntsman so keen on stringing her from their ropes. She always ate well. It was glorious. Here, though, among all the endless white, she had become invisible. She was a ghost among the drifts, her lupine shape unseen by all.

Finally, finally, she had reached that light. It was shrouded by stone, crumbling with age. The carvings and words held nothing for her, and she coursed through the history and culture with astounding ignorance. All that mattered was the light, maze or not. Where her wolf could not take her, her bear did. Where it’s strength did not allow her passage, her hawk did. Where it was too low to fly, her serpent weaved. The call rang out. Howling. Roaring. Screeching. Hissing. She could smell it. Her. The girl. The one who brought the light. She would stop it. She would stop it as she was meant to. Tooth and claw. Muscle and bone. She would taste of the flesh, drink of the blood. She would not cloud her mind anymore.

Yet, when she set foot on the path, those thoughts left her. Ynna fell silent, padding softly along before sitting on her haunches before the strange figure. Something had...tamed her? No. Not that. She could still feel her blood coursing in her veins, her sinews straining to leap, her breath catching in her throat, ready to let out that terrible, final, howl. Something was keeping her at bay, letting whatever shred of humanity remain finally be known. There were bigger things than the hunt afoot, things that meant it was time to rest. Gods were coming. She didn’t know how she knew that. She didn’t know any, she barely knew the word, but she knew. So she changed.

It felt odd to finally have her skin again. She could feel the cold, the filth, the cloak resting against what little flesh she covered, her bare feet on the stone. She crouched on the path, staring up at the woman. Her white hair hung around her face, obscuring the gray eyes set in tranquil fury. Her breath steamed in the gloom, mouth open in a predator’s grin, teeth as sharp as knives. Her muscles twitched idly as she forced herself still, shifting her impossibly pale skin. The detritus of the wilds clung to her more that her pelt ever could, giving off a scent few could conceive of. Her claws scraped against the stone, the grisly sound finally being drowned out by her voice. It wasn’t much better. She rarely used her tongue. When she did, it came out growling and hoarse and this was no different. It sounded like a predator trying to choke out human speech before setting on its prey, which wasn’t very far from the truth. Her mind clouded by bloodlust, she managed one word. It had been jammed into her skull for months now, and she knew it even if she had never heard it spoken. It was her word now.

“Light.”

 

[WimsyWillow]

The Drunkard

'The Pull.' As she came to call it, was unnoticeable at first. A small voice in the back of her mind she paid no heed.

She would sweep through a town, cleaning it's taverns of ale and the patrons of cash as they each lost a fight with her. It was her norm, something she was used to and enjoyed enormously. In bigger towns, she would find clean fighting rings that paid her well, and if the city didn't have one, she'd find one not so clean that paid even better. It was her favorite thing, the burn of all her muscles as she pushed them that much further, the gleam of her claws in the fire light. It was Erma's life, and damned if she wasn't lucky to be living it. It was only mildly difficult on ships when she was traveling between continents, the sailors grew far too used to her games and tended to cut her off before she drank the ship dry. No fun sea faeries that they all tended to be.

Erma roamed naturally, letting whimsy dictate her direction and pure luck get her there safely. So often was she immersed in her drink, she didn't remember how she got from one place to another. This was another story though. She couldn't remember the last thing she couldn't remember, and that was a huge concern. Her memory had been clear for weeks now, long enough for her to get to this point. Drinks had passed her lips, but never enough to leave her senseless. It just wasn't like her!

It wasn't until she was standing on the edge of the wilderness that she truly heard the voice and paid it mind.

It was a fanciful thing, whispering of prophesy and heroes and everything that sounded nothing like her. This was ridiculous! Erma didn't save people! She fought for herself and for drink. Mostly for drink.

The woman shook her head roughly, feral scowl marring her features as she looked off into the snow blanketed lands that lie before her. There was something out there, some... being that was causing this. She just knew it! How dare they take her drink from her! Wasn't right, she hadn't been this sober in years.

She had to fix this.

Taking a defiant gulp from her ale-skin, Erma curled her cloak closely around her shoulders, hood pulled tightly over short copper hair and a disgruntled expression. The brawler set off then in a great huff, following that pull she now felt so clearly. What a strange thing it was, all soft and urgent and somehow understanding over all of it. It gave her the shivers just thinking about it, something the cold seemed to be helping with. The cloak was tugged tighter, the small woman's scowl curving deeper as she continued on.

The snow wasn't deep, thank Daynonia, so it was easy enough for the mountain dweller to trudge her way through it. She didn't even know how long she had been walking before she suddenly hit smooth tile. The dwarven fae had been caught so far up in listening to that voice she now realized had been with her for weeks; that when hazel eyes finally traveled up, Erma idly noted the slight pain in her feet.

Chapped lips parted in awe, the brawler pausing in her incessant pursuit to take in the mystical beauty of the place that, now insanely loud, voice had lead her to. The awe she felt faded gently to calm then, knuckles turned white with the grip on her cloak regaining color as her stress flowed out of her and her anger slipped to the back of her mind. She moved forward at a slower pace than her previous insane march, head turning to take in the broken structure that lay in pieces around her. The air was radiant with evaporating mists, sun warming her cheeks as she continued, the soft crunch of snow and click of stone accompanying every footstep. Eyeing the rubble around her, Erma could only imagine what this desolated place might have once looked like.

The entrance to the last remaining part of the structure came as somewhat of a shock to her, so lost had she been in her daydreaming. It wasn't so much an entrance as an archway formed by pieces of the fallen structure. Erma paused there, hesitating as she peaked into the dimly lit space, her body blocking most of the light as she took in the sight of three figures. A hand on her shoulder nearly shook her out of her calm state before the peacefulness swept back over her like a wave.

"Continue?" Prompted the lyrical voice, light and soft in it's gentle request. Erma turned to the speaker as she stepped aside, allowing the taller figure through. With the light now flowing back into the room she took in the sight of the group, expression awed once more as the voice subsided with a long and relieved sigh. A filthy looking figure squatted on the ground, covered, if barely, buy the wolf pelt that served as their only peace of clothing. Quite clearly a girl, but nothing Erma hadn't seen before. Definitely Fae if the nails and teeth were anything to go by. The next figure, pale with brown hair seemed almost human, but the thinness of the girl spoke of some Aurae heritage. Possibly. She stood silently to the side, eyes focused and hand lifted as if to take up her bow. An expression of confusion shaped her expression and if she was here for the same reason Erma was... Well then, who could really blame her. Then came the stranger that had swept past her, hair like the northern lights on a clear night and practically thick clothing giving a nod towards a mountain native. This girl was clearly Daemon in some way, she was far too.... blue. Not to mention the glance she'd gotten at her eyes. That was nothing natural. Not really.

Then there was the girl in the white dress. Seated daintily at the foot of the pillar that soared into the sky like a finger at the heavens. Her wings and dress like freshly fallen snow, the thin fabric surely no barrier against the real thing. Her skin like the porcelain vases Erma's mother had been so fond of. Her hair like gold, far too fine for any jewler to have spun, and the color purer than any mine could produce. Her eyes... Had Erma not know better, she'd have claimed them to be priceless sapphires.

The barbarian was in awe, sore feet slowly stepping closer to the group, her lips parted speechlessly as she found her place around the angelic looking girl.

Her mind was blank. Her anger tamed. Her body still.

She waited.



The Naive

"I'm leaving for an adventure in a month." A'kiel said quietly, humming happily as she continued stirring the stew over the fire, entirely ignoring the sound of clattering kitchenware as her grandmother stumbled to stare up at her granddaughter. Milky blue eyes turned to examine the old woman, making sure she hadn't hurt herself in her shock. Upon confirmation that no physical damage was done, the Aurae gave a whimsical smile and turned back to her task.

"This is nothing sudden Gran, for a week now I've had dreams of a white pillar standing in a battle field and a bright light showing from it. For a week now I've heard a beckoning voice that speaks of urgent matters I can't quite recall, but I know that it wants me to travel North." She turned back when a weathered hand gripped her shoulder, meeting blue eyes flooding with tears. A'kiel lifted a hand from her stirring and gently wiped the gathering moisture from one wrinkled cheek with a soft smile and reassuring eyes.

"Do not fear for me Gran, I think this is who I'm meant to be."

"But my dear grandchild, are you sure?" Wept Renia, shaking hands lifting to cup her dear granddaughter's pale cheeks, voice wavering with the fear of losing another child.

"Granny, I'm not going away forever." The young healer assured. "At least, not if I have a choice in the matter." Blue eyes searched clouded ones as Renia held back breath that would give way to sobs. A'kiel seemed determined though, more sure of herself about this then the grey haired Aurea had ever seen her about anything. And so Renia gave way with a shaky exhale and a watery smile.

"If you're sure." She agreed weakly, thumbs brushing along high cheek bones as she began the process of re-memorizing her granddaughter's features. "There are a few things I must teach you though if you are to travel beyond our village."

So the month long lesson began, Renia teaching A'kiel everything she knew of the outside world and what should be expected of it and it's people. She learned story after story as her grandmother raked her memory for anything she hadn't yet told the child. Renia started saving, paying high prices when bards would wander into their village so that her granddaughter could learn customs of the other kingdoms and cities that the older Aurae knew nothing of. A'kiel was taught the basics of hunting and made to study every book Renia could find on herbs and edible plants throughout the lands.

All of it was quite stressful on the grandmother, but A'kiel enjoyed every second of it. The young Aurae was a sponge for knowledge, even if she found the strangest way of remembering things. It was fun to A'kiel, the girl loved learning.

So intensive were the studies that the villagers started to notice. Patients of the two women noticing, but never asking after the numerous books and dealings with merchants and bards that had happened upon their village for a night. The month moved so quickly with everything A'kiel had to learn that it came as a surprise to both women when it came time for the young Aurae to leave.

"Remember not to deal to deeply with strangers... and always ask a guard for help if you can't find something!" Renia fretted, nearly dancing around her granddaughter with the nerves that pulled her shoulders so tight. "Don't drink from strange springs, and a-always ward your camp..." A hiccup left the woman as her expression crumpled, tears gathering and spilling over her lashes. A'kiel heaved a deep sigh, gentle smile curving her lips as she hugged her granny close, fighting tears of her own even as the voice beckoned her.

"I'll remember Gran." She spoke quietly, arms tight as she refused to let the hug end. Renia didn't seem keen on letting go any time soon either. The two women stood there like that, A'kiel's lips pursed tightly and Renia shaking with silent sobs. Finally, the younger woman pulled back, cupping her hand to her grandmother's cheek as she smiled once more.

"I must be off Gran, the caravan could leave any time now." She reminded, the old woman nodding as she pulled a handkerchief out to dab at her leaking eyes and nose.

"I know, I know. Can't this old woman fret over her grandchild a little longer though? I don't know when I'll see you next."

"You will see me though, that I promise you." A'kiel assured, finally stepping from her grandmother's arms, heart tugging her two ways at once. The older Aurae nodded solemly, pausing for a moment before jumping.

"Oh goodness me, I almost forgot." She swore, hands fumbling with her apron for a second before she pulled out a small package, wrapped in linen and tied with twine. She held it out to her granddaughter, expression anxious as A'kiel took it slowly, confusion clouding her expression. "Something, something for when you miss home." Renia said quietly, stepping back with her hands wound in her apron. The old woman was watching expectantly as her granddaughter opened the parcel, the flow of tears increasing when she saw what she was willingly giving away.

"Granny." A'kiel spoke breathlessly, fingers stroking delicately over the woven and beaded cloth. It was a small trinket made of colorful woven thread and studded with fine glass beads that shown in the sun like crystals. The same thread braided and covering willow branch loops that extended from either side of the flat weave, crisscrossed in their center like dream catchers and with the loose strings dangling from the bottom of each loop. The weave was tied off at the bottom in a tight bind, loose strings hanging there too in a pointed fashion. The fabric was looped at the top to allow for a cord so it could be worn around the neck. The beads were clear while the thread was in greens blues and yellows like the dancing northern lights. A'kiel stood stunned for a moment, eyes and fingers roving over the precious item before she suddenly held it back out to Renia with trembling hands and watering eyes.

"Granny I can't." She spoke quietly, voice breathy and broken with emotion. Renia gave her a simple and serene smile, curving the girl's fingers back over the trinket.

"I insist A'kiel." The young Aurae shook her head defiantly.

"Grandpa made this for you when he found out you were pregnant." She whispered, staring again down at the trinket with awed eyes and slowly falling tears. Renia nodded mutely, swallowing twice before her voice left her again.

"I want you to have it A'kiel. So that he. And I. Can be with you always." Renia spoke softly, meeting milky whites that flicked up to her serachingly. They stared for a second before A'kiel dove forward to hug her grandmother once more, tightly and with freely flowing tears.

"I love you grandmother." She spoke softly, hiccuping as she breathed deeply the scent of home.

"And I you, my darling A'kiel."

A'kiel left shortly after that, her position in a bard's caravan secured with money and past dealings. The journey into Alarera was swifter than A'kiel could have wished for, the pull in her heart stronger with an urgency that she couldn't fathom. The city seemed huge to her, though upon stating it to a local she was met with the realization that the city was smaller than most. It was difficult for her to think of, coming from such humble roots as her small town made of hunters and healers. Still, the stay in Alarera was a fascinating one, A'kiel lamenting that she couldn't stay longer and explore.

From there, she followed the logging roads through Verel Forest, camping when the sun set to avoid getting lost among the trees. The lumberjacks she met in the woods were kind enough, some friendlier than others though she didn't understand why. Oddly enough, the one thing her grandmother had forgotten to teach her about was romance. She'd been given the basics of a man and a woman, but never before had she experienced flirting. All around, it was a plesant experience. When she reached the edge of the forest, the expanse of snow was a wonder to her, the young mountain dweller having never seen such a large stretch of flat land.

Once there, A'kiel no longer feared getting lost. The pull in her heart lead her through the snow that all looked the same and it was only a day before the pillar she'd dreamt of came into sight.

It stood tall and silent, among a graveyard of it's own parts and pieces that lay in crumbled ruin around it. The tile was a welcome relief from the crunching snow, the steppes of her boots ringing off the tile and surrounding rubble to provide a slight echo to her step that made A'kiel smile. It was musical in a way, the young girl playing with it by slipping into dancing steppes that rang rhythmically off the tile under and around her. She gave a small laugh, that sound too echoing back to her. The fun came to an abrupt end though when she stepped on a tile that was slightly icier than the others, her foot sliding out from under her and a surprised huff leaving the young woman as her eyes flew wide in surprise. A'kiel had caught herself, arms spread to catch herself and feet spread to give herself as solid of a stance as she could manage. The Aurae was frozen like that for a second, blinking owlishly before she burst out laughing, bending to rest her hands on her knees as she let peals of mirth spill from her mouth. She stayed like that for a second before wiping her eyes and shaking her head at herself. That was what she got for goofing off.

She continued her journey through the ruins, following the path as it lead up to a slight arch in the rubble. Bluish hair swayed as A'kiel tilted her head, surprised when she saw the figure standing under the arch and staring silently past it. Approaching silently, A'kiel stared past the shorter figure to see what they, she, was staring so intensely at. The small group gathered was somewhat of a shock to her, even though she didn't know what to expect when she set out in the first place.

She had no idea what race the woman she was standing just behind was, not familiar with the short and stocky build that made up the warrior of a woman. She placed a gentle hand on the stranger's shoulder, offering a soft smile when wide hazel eyes turned to her.

"Continue?" She prompted, wanting to slip past and join the group around the pillar that seemed to be the source of the pull in her chest. The shorter woman stepped aside and A'kiel stepped past her with a smile and a spring in her step. Oh, this was all just so exciting!

The next person she saw was very clearly a woman, the smell was.... interesting and A'kiel found herself blushing, though she had no idea why. She looked at the next woman, recognizing the familiar features as Aurean. The girl looked nice enough, if wary of the situation. And that left the girl at the base of the pillar.

Her hair was radiant as the morning sun, eyes as blue as the ice that formed over the mountain springs, and her dress was as white as a fresh snowfall. She looked serene, and A'kiel only mildly envied her wings. A Seraphi then.

A'kiel would have offered her cloak if the girl didn't look so unaffected by the cold.

A quick glance up when the short woman from the doorway joined the circle, curious scar running her face and copper colored locks glinting red in the sunlight, and A'kiel had had enough of the tense silence. So she did what she did best.

She began to sing.

"Instead of cursing the darkness,
Light a candle for where we're going,
There's something ahead, worth fighting for.

When the light of time is on us,
You will see our moment come,
And the living soul inside will carry on."

Her hauntingly beautiful voice trailed off, eyes closed as she continued humming the song, completely caught up in the music she could hear so clearly in her mind.