She wasn't getting younger, that was for sure.

After weeks on the road every inch of her body seemed to ache. From her feet to the very depth of her bones. They all complained at her as she settled herself into one of the chairs along the high wooden countertop at the back of the tavern. What seemed to hurt the most though was the cavity of her chest. So much so Lyssa worried if her heart was somehow reaching the end of its life and she'd find herself keeling over in the muck of Erast before she'd done any of the things she needed to do. There was a war raging and she'd be damned if she left the Known without having a say of which way it would go. She pounded a fist on her chest, willing it to get over whatever ailed it.

"By hells, if you give out on me I'll be sure to turn the After into a raging inferno until the gods raise me from the dead to finish what I've started," She muttered.

"Dangerous words, you shouldn't threaten the gods."

Lyssa glanced upward from the fist clenched against her chest at the lanky fellow who'd appeared behind the bar. He wasn't young, but far younger than Lyssa herself. An amused look had passed itself across his face. Sending the crook of his nose into a contorted wrinkle and his eyes flashing. Lyssa waved this off as a trick of the light, though her curiosity was now perked.

"The mutterings of an old crone," she stated. "No one would take them seriously."

The Lad hummed in thought. "I think the gods themselves heard your warnin'."

"They've ignored all my warnings thus far." She waved over the passing women so she could take bread from her tray. "Would be against their way to start listening now."

He chuckled, nodding his head a few times as if to say fair enough and went about pouring her a mug of whatever ale they had in the barrels behind him. When he returned to place it before her, she made sure to take a long look at him. Confirming her suspicions almost at once.

"What brings a mage so far south?"

When he said it, she glanced around her out of habit. Though he didn't seem concerned in the least about who might have overheard them. She had had her suspicions upon riding there but she could confirm them true now. How else would the lad be so brazen to speak the word Mage out loud. Even more so, how would he have the courage to be so unapologetically mage himself without hood or dyes. The people of Erast cared no more about what someone was than they did who occupied the throne. There was no reason to after all. The south wasn't like most parts of Nirih. It was lawless, the rules made by the people, not a King week's ride away in a castle they'd never see in their lifetimes.

Indeed, if there was anyone listening to their conversation it wasn't likely they would hunt her like they would in the High Cities. This was if anyone heard, which seemed just as unlikely since there were a total of five people in the room. The two of them, a woman serving food, and two other men sitting far across the room closest to the fire that roared in the large hearth. Both of whom seemed very unconcerned about anyone else currently in the building.

She wanted to warn him to be cautious but held her tongue. There was never telling who would walk in his doors. For him, it might have been easier though. He was lucky enough that his traits could be passed off as somewhat normal. His hair was black, though it was the blackest hair Lyssa had ever seen in her days. It was his eyes that'd given it away. A brownish-orange that almost glowed. She imagined that had he been born anywhere closer to the capital it would have been a dangerous life for him. It was hard to hide eyes of unnatural color, Lyssa knew this first hand.

"I've come for my daughter." When she spoke the words, the lad's face grew regretful. A sorrowful smile filled it. He had known Charis then.

"I grieve your loss," he said. "Charis spoke of you often."

She wasn't sure why, but this did little to comfort her like the lad had intended. Instead it set her chest into another painful spiral. The tightness was so sudden she had to clear her throat several times and take a long sip of ale before she was able to compose any words of her own in return.

"You'd be able to point me in the direction of Leontiy then?"

"Aye," his head bobbed a few times. "Him and the children live just out of town in a valley to the east."

"My thanks." She had no business left there, though she could see the lad had words on the edge of his tongue. She had no intention of indulging his curiosity. Afraid of what else he may ask about her daughter or perhaps even the war. Swallowing the remainder of her ale, she stood. She was halfway to her horse when he appeared at the door of the tavern.

He passed a sack into her hands when she had sung herself onto her pony and stated, "For the family. Tell them Bence sends his prayers."

She grunted in response, something she hoped would translate well into whatever the lad wanted to hear. Really though she had no words of her own to speak so it was all she could offer him. Best wishes, thanks, and all the pleasantries people did in sour situations had never been her strength in navigating. She knew their purpose, people wanted to offer comfort without making the families feel worse. She'd just never been good at giving or receiving them, no matter how often she found herself in the situation to do so. Give her war, a sword, or blind hatred instead. She was better equipped to handle that.

Though the muddy road was the last place she wanted to be again, she found that even that was better than standing still. So she tied the sack to her saddle and left. Bence had likely watched her leave. He seemed like the type of lad that did that, especially when his face cried out with questions. There was more he had wanted to say but he had held himself back. Probably in light of the situation he'd thought it wasn't best to press. He didn't know Lyssa after all, all he knew is she was a mother who came to bury her child. Something no one ever wanted to do, especially in a place like Erast.

Charis hadn't always lived in Erast. When she had given birth to her daughter, Cecilia, and for the first two years of the child's life they had lived in Larith. Which was the Kingdom to the north that harbored mages, welcoming them as citizens and hosting the Known's only magical academies. Outside of Berin's camps, used to train mages for their sick sport, it was the only kingdom who taught magic openly. Parth restricted magic teaching to the highborns and just about everywhere else mages were hunted and slaughtered. The Known was not a kind place for those with magic.

It had been pleasant when Charis had lived in Larith though. Since the liberation forces had set up camp along the border close to their home. Lyssa had been able to travel there often in those years when she wasn't needed on the frontlines. Then without reason Charis and Leontiy had decided to pick up everything to move to Erast. She hadn't told Lyssa why, even when Lyssa had asked in the letters she'd sent. Lyssa had been so occupied with the war in the years since that it had just become a trip she would take 'one day'. One day when the fighting calmed, one day when she wasn't needed, one day during the spring or summer. It seemed one day had come.

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Passing through the gates once more, Lyssa pointed her horse on the road east. There was little to be seen in the direction she faced. Nothing but moorlands as far as her eyes could see. Though they had aged they could still see as far as the horizon. A thin fog had clung to the ground, thick in the gray weather. It gave life to the title that part of the kingdom had claimed thousands of years ago, the graylands. It was home to half a dozen little towns just like Erast and nothing more. Instead it was mostly open rolling hills that rose gently until all at once the base of the Teeth met them and formed the impassable wall of mountains at Nirih's southernmost border. The lands were too acidic for crops and the weather too cold for most people. It left only a handful of grayborne willing to tough it out.

Lyssa followed the road for a time, weaving through the crevices of hills beside a small river. Though river was probably not the right word for it even if that is what it had been labeled on her maps. This was more like a small brook. Enough for perhaps a fishing or caravan boat to float down but nothing more. She knew though from the maps that this flowed north to connect with the rivers that eventually slice through the center of the High Cities. It was this river that the Great Passage followed as the largest major roadway in Nirih. Going from its northern coast to the south where it branched into the East and West Passes which made their way to the coastlines where the major trade ports were. This road was discussed a lot in the liberation, because without it the High Cities were cut from a majority of their resources.

"We're needed elsewhere," she grumbled to her horse as they took a turn onto a lane that broke from the main road. There had been no sign saying it was the road to Charis' home, but she knew it was the right one. Even that far away she had felt the lingering magic like it was a strong wind against her face.

"We go in, convince Leontiy to send Cecilia with us, and then the three of us leave."

Her horse made no response. It was a horse, after all. She wondered if it was the stress of leaving the frontlines unattended or the death of her daughter that had driven her to conversing with the beast. Either way, she was pleased that speaking to it did calm the rumble that'd formed at the back of her mind. Concluding that perhaps she was a mad old crone like she'd told Bence at the tavern. It wouldn't be too bad, no one would expect less. Old folks were supposed to be a bit crazy.

This gave her permission to continue the monologue as they ventured onward. It was beginning to get dark when she finally reached the wood gate that blocked the end of the lane. Now close to Charis' barrier, she had to take a moment to regain her thoughts. There was nothing visible. At least not by the naked eye. The barrier was still there though, holding strong for the moment even if it was showing signs of fade. Lyssa felt the distinct energy of magic manipulated by her daughter in the air, like a scent that only Charis had. It was hard to form thoughts, let alone words so it was good she had only her horse to talk to. Since the horse really didn't understand her anyways whether she spoke or not.

She dismounted to open the wood gate, which obviously did little against the magical one. Her horse shifted from side to side behind her. Animals had no magic of their own but they could sense it in parts. With something this strong it was not surprising the horse was frightened. Still it allowed Lyssa to usher it through the wooden gate, pausing a few feet away at what Lyssa assumed was the start of Charis' protection. There was no telling what the barrier was since Lyssa could not see the engravings used to cast it. It could be that it would stop her like an invisible wall or perhaps burn to the touch. Most likely Lyssa would pass through without any issue, as Lyssa and Charis' magic had bonded long ago. It would know she was not the danger that Charis held out.

This thought did not keep Lyssa from holding her breath as she stepped across the line. Feeling the magic slip over her like a ripple of energy before she found herself on the other side. She then pulled her horse through, though this was a bigger challenge as the animal did not like the static of the barrier. It was in no way painful, but it was uncomfortable. There were several minutes of struggle in which Lyssa lured the horse with every tasty treat in her bag before finally giving up and forcing the beast across the line as well. Had they not been traveling together for the better part of seven years she doubted that she would have won the battle. The horse was stubborn, but they had a mutual trust. He knew she wouldn't lead them into something that she wasn't sure they'd get out of.

The house wasn't much farther down the path. It was hidden in a small grove of trees that looked largely misplaced in the otherwise barren landscape. They jutted out from a sea of tall grass like giants amongst humans.Around them groves of flowers and various other plants not native to the graylands grew. Charis had had her hand at growing the valley, that was for sure.

The structure itself was a squat stone building that held the only light in the growing darkness. Everything looked muted in the dusk as the dwindling sun cast a spell through the gloom so against this the house seemed bright. The windows were lit and a healthy ploom of smoke puffed from the chimney that poked from the wooden roof. A soft smell of food drifted across the yard as Lyssa neared. The stable, a shabby building that leaned to the left more than she liked, stood just before the main house. It was noticeably empty though signs of animals were apparent. She took one of the cleaner stalls for her horse and removed the baggage, though she left these inside the stable before making her way toward the house.

She'd not seen her granddaughter in near to eight years. Leontiy had traveled north to Larith once or twice since their move but even that did not make them familiar. Without Charis, the coming to their home seemed unsure. Would they not want her in their home? She had ignored Charis' wishes to come when she'd been on her deathbed, after all. Lyssa wondered if the journey had been made in too much hast. She should have delayed by a day or so, allowed a letter or word of her coming to arrive first. There was no saying what she'd meet inside the cottage.

"You've killed men and faced war," Lyssa stated to herself. "Why are you afraid of knocking?"

She still had to take a deep breath before she could lift her hand to knock loudly on the door. Behind it, she heard the stir of bodies. A few voices sounded along with the deep voice of Leontiy. Perhaps they already had guests and she would be turned away. Then footsteps and the noise of the door unlocking. When it pulled back, Leontiy stood in the frame. His body was guarded, tense. In one hand he held a long wooden pole that he had ready if needed.

"Planning to beat the Reapers back?" Lyssa glanced at his weapon. Both of them knew full well that the stick would do little against magic. Still the question seemed to be exactly what he needed. It was almost like a barrel of water had been unplugged. A flood of relief was followed by confusion and surprise.

"By gods, I had feared the barrier had broken at last." Leontiy gave a laugh, dropping the stick beside the door frame. "Was the trip long?"

"Aye," she nodded.

"Who is it, da?" a voice came from behind him. A girl's voice. Cecilia most like. The last time Lyssa had heard the child she had spoke only a handful of words. She longed to push past Leontiy and go to her granddaughter but held herself at bay. The child wouldn't remember her. A strange woman rushing her would only scare the girl. So she waited as Leontiy stepped aside for Lyssa to enter.

"Gods, my manners. Come, you're probably tired and wanting to meet everyone."

Lyssa wondered if his family had come from Parth with word of Charis' passing. It was a long trip to take. Longer than her own so perhaps they had gotten letters as well to come when she was sick. What stood beyond was not what Lyssa had expected though. Instead of grim faced Parvians, four pairs of oddly colored eyes blinked back at her.

"Children," Leontiy closed the door behind them. "This is your grandmother."