Dear Marzia, dear sorella

Tis the first time I write to you since I've departed, so pardon my gramar. I've noticed you've snuck in some tales in my bag and I pormisse to read them and learn to write well. Seneca said we learn to speak when we hear, and learn to write when we read... Was it he who said it or was it you? I dunnow, you two were both teachers to me.

We've made new friends already: a Zigana named Candorra that you'd either love her or hate her, depending on your moods. And Giovanni, an intelligent boy for whom I'd feel very jealous for I'd not understand whatcha yu two would talk if you ever met. We've saved a village together and now we are crossing a very dangerous mountain range to reach the Bay of Champagn, from where we'll depart to the Kingdom of Alba. They say there are giants there! I cant wait!

But still. Nothing looks as big and majestic as they should when you are not here. You might seem like the smallest thing in the world to yourself, but you leave a huge emptiness when you not by my side. And the Wild Lands too seem less beautiful when your eyes are not around to give it light.

Please tell mama I miss her. (I dunno how to end thise letters)

Verano de Sforza, Valley of Champagn; west to the Trentino.

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"Atchium!" Sneezed Arnaud Jr as King Heinrich's column of fresh levies crossed around a mountain. A snowstorm froze him alive. "I can't feel my ears, Verano. How are they looking like?"

"H-H-Horrible..." Mumbled Verano. He did not do much better than his brother. Even his olive skin could not be distinguished with ease from the snow around them.

"W-W-Warm them up, please. Y-You can be rough."

Verano squeezed his eyes so that he could see his brother's head through the snowstorm. He rose his hand to warm Arnaud's ear.

"Stop!" Intervened Giovanni, the young architect. "You'll end up ripping his ear out! I know we come from the Middle Sea, but not everyone needs to know..." He glanced at the other levies in the column who giggled at them.

"Chill." Smirked Verano. "Y-Y-You get it? Chill?" His smile collapsed as his joke did not move a single cheek. "Never mind," he frowned as his lips shivered with the freezing gale. "It's too cold to jest."

"Seriously, who inherited the brain in your family?" Inquired Giovanni as he looked at both brothers.

Verano and Arnaud exchanged sights and answered at the same time:

"Our sister."

"I know what you guys need, a revitalizing song!" Said Candorra, excited. She walked by the side of the column as if she strolled across a warm beach. A precipice was a couple steps to her left.

"H-How in the hell are you not dying?" Recoiled Arnaud Jr. "A-Are you even human?"

"Shhh, fatty..."

"I told you to stop calling me that!"

"Okay, fatty..." She frowned at her harp. "What should I play now? Maybe something agitated because everyone's looking so sad."

“That’s because we are cold!”

Giovanni rolled his eyes at Candorra and Arnaud’s discussion. Yet he noticed people gossiped about her:

"We have a Zigana in the host?" Asked an unknown soldier.

Another commented:

"Not surprised we've been getting snowstorms for two days straight. She brings bad luck!"

The young architect frowned:

"Hey, Candorra," he faltered as he noticed the scowls facing her. "Maybe you shouldn't play? There is a time and place for everything..."

"Maybe the Ballad of Verano again? Or Princess Siegfrieda? Maybe the Three Slaves' Saga?" She asked herself nonchalantly.

Verano leaned towards Giovanni:

"Better just let her play. It's too cold to argue."

"Y-You really don't function in the cold, do you, Verano?"

"I feel half my brain has frozen to death already--"

"I got it! Haha!" Giggled Candorra, excited. "I'll play the Drums of the Woods so you wake up, Verano!"

"This sounds like a bad idea..." Remarked Giovanni squeezing his eyes to see the masses of snow and ice hanging near the mountain's peak.

“That’s why it’s so great!” Chuckled the Zigana. “Nobody will see it coming!”

Arnaud Jr smirked maliciously as he faced Candorra:

"Hey, w-w-w-why don't you play while standing behind the column or in front of it? Play as loud as you can and you'll inspire everyone!"

"That's a great idea, fatty, you're smart!" She smiled. "But the acoustics are better here."

Candorra rested her hands on the harp and stretched her fingers to play.

Giovanni swallowed dry:

"I got a tremendo feeling about this, Verano."

"C-Chill, Giovanni," chuckled Verano. "You worry too much. We go through life better without fear dragging our feet. What's the worst that can happen?"

Candorra played the first note and the mountain shook.

"What was that?" Asked Count Otto, King Heinrich's host’s second in command. He stood ahead of the column.

"It's not tuned yet," faltered Candorra as she meddled with her harp.

“See?” Giovanni sighed in relief. "Maybe it’s a sign that you shouldn’t—“

“But now it is turned!"

"Wait, no!" The boy stretched his hand as she played the second note. A large mass of ice thundered and descended upon the column as if a cloudy sky fell upon the young soldiers.

"Quick, form a fire umbrella!" yelled Count Otto moving through the column on his horse. "As I told you! Anti-arrow formation! Now! Now! Now!"

"Cursed be this Zigana!" Yelled a soldier as he rose his arms to expel a fire wave. Other hands rose to the sky and followed his gesture.

"Quick, Arnaud!" Said Verano unfreezing himself with the heat from his comrades' flames. He rose his arms and repeated their movement.

Candorra faced the incoming wave of snow about the knock them off the mountain. She clenched her fists.

"Maybe it's not gonna be enough..." She faced the umbrella of fire and rested her hands on her harp. "I'll feed the flames with air!"

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Soldiers from the column recoiled. One pointed his hand at her:

"She's gonna attack us!"

Verano noticed the agitation and held Candorra as she laid her hands on the instrument.

"Wait, Candorra, no!"

"Stop, you'll mess up my tempo--" She played the harp and an airwave busted against the ground. "No!"

The earth beneath them broke. Verano and Candorra fell into the precipice.

"Wait, Verano!" Faltered Arnaud laying on the ground and stretching the arm to catch his brother. "Just let her fall--"

The weakened ground could not sustain his weight and shattered.

“Crap…” Murmured Arnaud as he closed his eyes and fell after them.

Giovanni stood by the edge of the abyss and shouted:

"Guys, no!"

A capped man ran from the column and jumped into the precipice as if he followed them. Giovanni recoiled and fell on his backs as if he had seen a shadow.

"W-What was that?"

The shady figure dove through the snowstorm and noticed that Verano grabbed Candorra by the arm as they both fell.

"I-I know a song that will stop the fall!" She rested her hands on the harp. "Just stand--"

"No! It's not safe!" Said Verano stretching his arm so that he could eject flames to deaccelerate them. Yet a blaze burned his hand. "Argh! What was that?”

He looked above and saw that the capped figure held Arnaud.

"With me!" Said the mysterious man reaching Verano's and Candorra's altitude. He could see lights deep beneath as if a constellation hid in the depths of the abyss. "Follow my fire, you two," he glanced at Arnaud and Verano. "More intense flames and your necks will break with the whiplash!"

"R-R-Right!" Said Arnaud as he gritted his teeth and fought to balance himself in the air.

"3... 2..." Counted the capped man. "Now!"

Their flames cushioned the fall and they landed gently on a shallow lake. The warm water and the humidity of the depths of the abyss contrasted with the coldness from the mountain. 

"That was close..." Remarked Verano, gasping. He faced the capped the figure. "Thank you for help, sir..."

The man pulled down the cape and revealed a thin face whose eyes hid under a bandana. A bow and arrow hanged on his back.

"I-It's Johann Martel!" Recoiled Arnaud Jr. "The Archer of the Trentino! I'm such a fan!"

"W-Who is this weirdo?" Asked Candorra. "He's blind!"

Arnaud explained:

"This is Johann Martel, King Heinrich's spymaster."

The man grunted.

"Why don't you two tell the lowborn my horoscope as well?" He inquired as he took a step away from them.

"Wow, Johann Martel's a jerk..." Frowned Arnaud Jr. " He's even cooler now! Wait," he followed the man. "Is that story about you and the apple true--"

"Quiet!" He rose his hand at the boy's face. "I hear Spirits in these ruins. Lots of them."

Verano took a step ahead and searched his surroundings. He noticed spirits glowed in the dark and faded like fireflies. Bright yellow light burned inside glasses and dotted the horizon. The ground was grey like hardened cement and buildings much larger and complex than those of the Duchy de Sforza covered the walls. Vines sprung off their windows and off the ground. The odd vegetation gave the place the air of a swamp.

"What even is this place?" Recoiled the boy. 

 "You guys don't know about these?" Asked Candorra. "These are the Ruins of Light. Plenty o'those in the Wild Lands. I was raised in one picking up metals."

"When Zigans want, they do survive in any hole that they find..." Remarked Johann.

"That's offensive!"

"It was a compliment."

Arnaud Jr walked ahead and noticed that vines blocked half the passageways. The darkness concealed them and he measured every step to do not bother them.

"Can't we just blast these things off the path? They make me really nervous--"

"No!" Verano and Johann rose their voices at the same time. 

"I feel something about them..." Faltered Verano. "It's like they are way more than vines. They feel as if they were conscious. Like us."

Candorra chuckled:

"That's about right, Verano.” She narrowed her eyes at Arnaud. “Touch one and you'll end up like that guy, fatty," she pointed at the skeleton of a scavenger laying on the ground. "But maybe a diet wouldn’t be so bad for you..."

"You almost kill us all and you mock me?" Protested Arnaud.

"Enough, you two!" Ordered Johann. "Zigana," he glanced at Candorra. "You've been to these before. Do you think you can guide us to the exit?"

"You gotta know the language of the ancient, but I know a couple navigation words. That won't be a problem," she smiled. "What is a problem to me is how you will see anything with that bandage over your eyes. How can you see with it?"

Arnaud Jr snorted at her:

"You can't just ask how people see!"

“It’s fine,” Johann faced her. “"I've learned to feel the heat and desire in everything around me. Our eyes deceive us too much. Losing my sight was a gift. I can feel the warmth and desire in people's hearts and know when they plot and when they are sincere."

"So..." She faltered. "You can tell that I didn't want to harm anyone?"

"If I had seen evil in you, I'd have shot you down and made it look like an accident. I've done before." He frowned upon a wall of vines blocking their path to the rest of the ruins. "I see a great heart in you. A brain, on the other hand..."

Arnaud Jr laughed loud.

Verano kneeled down by the vines. They opened the way for him to pass as if the plants were servants opening the way for their majesty. He recoiled and fell on his backs.

“H-How?” He asked himself.

Johann frowned at the surprised boy:

"You really are different. For a moment there I thought about letting you three fall and calling it a practical lesson of what not to do." He rose Verano from the ground. "Now I'm glad I didn't."

"Can you tell me about this place?" Asked Verano. His heart pounded louder as the spirits opened the way and he could see buildings much taller than the Castello advancing into the dark sky of the mountain. Bright empty windows covered their sides like bricks of light. "If only Marzia were here to see this, it’s awesome..."

"I'm not very acknowledged," replied Johann gesturing for Candorra to lead the way. "All I know is that once humans were all around the world and there were much more of them. All changed when the Spirits began to move in and conflicts started. First, they took over these large cities that homed millions and forced humans to leave. When people finally fought back, the darkness in the human heart made the Spirits go dark and nothing in the world could harm them." He glanced at the destroyed war machines, craters and pieces of metal laying on the streets. "All humans could do was fleeing. And they fled for generations. Until all those who remained of them in the Wild Lands inhabited the shadows of Heaven's Shrine, protected by the Grey Guardian. And the rest is history."

"So..." Verano faltered. "Spirits were not always part of our world?"

"There is no our world, Verano de Sforza. Go to a hill at night and look at any fief," he frowned. "Count how many flames people dare to leave lit and then how many glowing Spirits you see roaming the wild. The Wild Lands belong to them, not us. When I lost my sight facing one of them, I stopped listening to the lies that the proud Knights tell about how they expelled Spirits and settled new lands; instead I began to hear their hearts pounding in fear of ever facing a Spirit again. And they never did."

"So sometimes you gotta stop hearing what people say and just look at what they do?"

"Then you'll be one step closer of listening to their heart." Smirked Johann with sympathy for the boy. "You'll make a powerful Bender someday, Verano, I can feel it. If you ever need a tutor, it'd be my pleasure to--"

Candorra interrupted them:

"That's it!" She pointed at a board fallen on a concrete road. A large bridge blossomed off the ground and advanced into a dark tunnel in the horizon. "That board says 'Exit' in the language of the ancient! I said I'd help!"

"How can we be so sure, I mean..." Faltered Arnaud. "We'd not even be here if you hadn't had tried to help us."

She grunted:

"You are..." Her bravado diminished. "Kinda right."

The Spirits that floated around aimed their eyes at her, bothered.

Verano touched Candorra’s shoulder to support her:

"Hey," he smiled. "You won't ever do anything right if you just stop trying."

Those words were familiar to Arnaud's ears. He rose his voice:

"Father Seneca said that?"

"No."

"Dad?"

"No." Verano faced him. "Marzia."

"Wow..." Arnaud recoiled. "You actually paid attention to what Marzia said?"

Verano narrowed his eyes at his brother and his calm expression fell. A vein sprung off his forehead and his fists clenched. 

Johann glanced at the Spirits and noticed that they trembled along with Verano as if his connection to them was even more intense than to Candorra.

"What is this guy?" He rustled to himself, aghast. His right hand grasped an end of his bow.

Yet Candorra hugged both brothers together and the Spirits calmed.

"I'd love to watch you beat some pounds off him," she remarked. "But we really gotta go. Staying places like this for long is bad. New Spirits come out at night and we may be stepping on the territory of one now."

Verano frowned:

"You are right. I’m okay, we can move on.”

"Are you really alright?" Faltered Arnaud. "Sorry for saying that. I've always made fun of Marzia, but it seems you got a bit more sentimental for her since we left. Then again," he frowned. "I miss her too."

"It's fine, Arnaud." He smiled. "I can’t really feel angry with you. Let's just go."

Johann noticed as the Spirits move away and hid in the ruins of the city as Verano smiled. He followed the group as they walked through a tunnel and saw an exit hiding behind a waterfall.

"Candorra was right!" Said Arnaud sticking his head through the water and seeing ships dotting the coastline. King Heinrich's red mantles painted the beach. "This was really the exit! But it's been so easy..." He faltered. "No big fight? No hard challenge for the day?"

"You have Candorra to thank for that." Said Verano hurrying to see how the coast looked like. Yet he noticed that the Spirits floated inside the ruins and stared at him. He faced them and they faded from his sight as he took a last sight of the immense city hiding in the mountain. "One day I want to come back and explore all of it. There must be so much to discover there."

A thunderous sound echoed from the stormy clouds in the sky. Johann Martel grasped his bow as if he expected an attack.

"The legendary Johann Martel is scared of lightening?" Inquired Arnaud. "That just makes him even more complex! So awesome!"

"No, De Sforza, I'm not, argh--" He grunted. "The sounds of the storms and waves remind me of the beating of certain drums.”

"What?" Inquired Candorra with light in her eyes. "Is it music?"

"One could say it is." He glanced at her. "The storm reminds me of the thunderous drums that the Northmen play from the mist before they land on the shore.” He faced the North Sea hidden by the end of the bay. “We are getting close."