Rindea

> “The elven heroine before the Divine Severing. What feats had she done to have an entire mountain range named after her? The Deitars that favored her so are long gone. And the gods that employed her skills are too far out of reach.” ~Schrodie, the Gatekeeper

The Mist That Carries the Nightmare—a pretty arrogant name as far as Frein was concerned—surrounded him, obscuring everything at arm’s length with its thick fog. It was conscious. The unnatural movements it did to make way for him every time he took a step simply gave him that impression.

The rage churning within Frein had receded to a deadly calm. He had ensured that Katherine was safe and had provided her enough meiyal to either fight back or escape.

Now that he was more in control of his emotions, he observed The Mist with curiosity. He extended a hand towards the thick fog, but it moved out of reach. He employed a swift jab and again, the fog avoided it.

“This is weird. Do you know anything about it, Eli?”

“I generally avoid Deep Nightmares, Frein,” the faunel replied. “They’re too unpredictable.”

“I thought you’d say dangerous.”

“It’s dangerous everywhere.”

“Fair enough.”

“What I do know about The Mist is that it turns creatures in its influential sphere into a special form of Nightmare when they die.”

“Like zombies? Necromantic powers?” Frein made a wide swing without any intention of touching The Mist to test the Deep Nightmare’s reaction. The wind he produced didn’t even sway the thick fog, let alone made it flinch.

“Of sorts, yes,” Elizzel replied. “It’s like a mix between necromancy and Nightmarish transformation. The three Forest Jaws were under its direct command. I suspect the big, fiery one was due to The Mist causing a certain mutation or genetic reactivation.”

“So, what am I supposed to do here?” Frein asked. “I don’t have any fra Arts, and I doubt a simple one would kill this Nightmare anyway.”

“Deep Nightmares work on a very different logic. Sometimes killing them isn’t an option. I thought you had a plan?”

Frein latched on to the question. It implied not everything transferred through their Tether.

“Of course not,” Elizzel answered unprompted. “That would be too chaotic.”

“I was acting on impulse,” Frein said, answering the previous question. “Besides, Katherine said she killed all the Deep Nightmares she encountered.”

“Katherine hasn’t encountered all the Deep Nightmares, yet. I bet she hasn’t encountered this one and only knew it by name.”

“Fair point.”

Frein turned back and immediately found himself confused. The Mist didn’t move for him this time. He placed a hand on it. The Mist felt like scales, a solid mass despite its cloudy combinations of color. It gave him a headache. The image of a gigantic python camouflaging as a cloud provided the simplest explanation, but it skipped over the part that it moved like actual mist.

And yet, it wouldn’t allow him to turn back.

“Seems we’re stuck here,” Elizzel said, going to the same conclusion.

Without much choice, Frein continued. If he decided to brute force his way out of this, he might as well figure out where it was leading him first.

The path went on and The Mist adjusted with his steps, so long as his direction was agreeable to it. Though this time, Frein couldn’t get the idea of the cloud being a boa constrictor out of his head. He looked up, but even there was covered by the Deep Nightmare. It really didn’t look like a reptile at all.

The path led on for a long time. At this point, Frein was sure he was nowhere near Katherine anymore. The ground had turned to sand. The temperature had dropped. And he could smell the salty breeze of the sea.

“We should be far enough now, don’t you think?” he asked to no one in particular. To make a point, he sat on the sand.

“I suppose this is as far as you’re willing to walk.” A soothing female voice whispered from The Mist.

“Didn’t know Deep Nightmares could talk.”

“No,” the voice replied. “No, they can’t.”

Slowly, The Mist expanded to reveal sea all around him. The patch of sand he walked on had vanished, and only the small island of sand he was sitting on remained. The sea was still, barely making any waves if at all.

In front of him, standing on still water, was a blonde elven lady. She carried the grace, the beauty, and the youth of the elves that Frein had always imagined. Traits elevated by the divine aura surrounding her. She wore verdant silk underneath illustrious, draconic, scale armor. The meiyal around her was still, listening and waiting for her command.

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“It can, however, be persuaded,” she continued. Piercing blue eyes stared at him. She had black slits for pupils, another draconic mark present on her entirety. Yet, she carried herself as though dragons would naturally bow in her grace.

“I suppose introductions are due before anything else?” she inquired.

“No need,” Frein replied. “You’re Rindea Fallsween, the First Protector. They said you defended your village from a kingdom of dragons all on your own.” To emphasize his familiarity with her and his casual approach, he gestured in front of him, inviting her to sit.

“An exaggeration of history, surely,” Rindea responded. She took the invitation and sat on seawater with grace, folding her legs on one side like a proper lady. “I received reinforcements just before they breached the mountains.”

“You did, but historical accounts indicated that the reinforcements were from a claimed boon granted to you by a god that held you at high authority. A boon you had earned by previously completing an impossible task.”

“The Liberation of Arc Angels, yes. It was an impossible task indeed.”

Frein stored the title in his mind. His train of thought was still stuck at Rindea’s draconic, historical feat. “That is after you held your own for two days. Against a kingdom of dragons.”

Rindea smiled humbly. “A kingdom of dragons varies in size. It doesn’t necessarily mean many.”

“How many, then?”

“I’d rather not say…”

“I’ll keep it a secret,” Frein said excitedly. He made a promising gesture that he was sure Rindea wouldn’t understand out of context.

“Thirteen.”

“How many did you kill before your reinforcements arrived?”

“Nine. Four were juvenile, three were adults, two were ancients.”

“The four that remained?”

“Three of them were Worldborn dragons, one was a Deitar.”

Frein immediately latched on to the new term. “Worldborn?”

“It means the creature had gained enough favor from the gods to be reborn anew. They’re to be vessels as future Deitars as they keep gaining enough insight to glean from destiny.”

The barrage of information took Frein a while to process. Still, all of these depended on a particular premise, that the gods once had direct communication and influence with life in Brymeia. And that most of these are now useless because of the Divine Severing.

At least, it was nice to confirm historical facts from the person herself.

“Wait…” the slow realization left Frein dumbfounded. “Why are you here? And where am I?”

Rindea struggled to stifle a giggle. “A little late for that, don’t you think?”

“No, I’m serious. I was prepared for a fight, and I totally did not expect to meet someone like you inside The Mist. Is this an illusion?”

“Elizzel should be able to convince you that it’s not.”

As if on cue, the faunel responded. “It’s not,” she said, moving out of his meiyal system. Their Tether remained. Elizzel simply paid respects in front of the First Protector. She sat on the still seawater beside Frein.

“I do miss a casual conversation,” Rindea said, acknowledging the faunel.

“So, why are you in The Mist?” Frein asked.

“Before I respond, may I inquire of your impression of the Void Creatures—Nightmares now, correct? Do you think of them as inherently evil?”

“With this showcase, I can be convinced that they’re not, but that’s a tall order.”

Rindea nodded. “A flexible mindset. Not bad.

“To address your question, this has to do with my death. If you do not mind a long story…”

“Not at all.”

“Good. Elves live for a long time, and I’ve lived my years fighting for benevolent gods and Deitars, until the Diving Severing. I was at the forefront of Evanclad’s army as we fought the first incarnation of Nightmares. They were referred to as The Great Voids back then due to the sheer emptiness they leave at their wake.

“Zerax’thum’s death broke the land as well as our connection with our gods. We even forgot their names and all our records were altered as though a great force willed them to change. Total chaos followed right after and it took Evanclad years to reunite and stabilize civilization for the mortal era. Of course, not all factions reunited with him.”

“You broke pact?” Frein guessed.

“Correct. Evanclad and I didn’t agree on certain terms, so we parted amicably.”

“You were in love with him?” Frein saw hints of regret and followed his gut.

“Did you just take a guess?” Rindea’s expression was amused rather than annoyed.

“Informed guess, yes. Since the First Monarch ended up with someone else—one who basically made the Great Sea Dividyr—in addition to the way your face looks whenever you say his name, I’d say it was a pretty good guess.”

“Well…it was a long time ago, I suppose. And you’re very well read.”

“I am, thank you.”

“Skipping the details of my fallout with the First Monarch, the village I protected eventually prospered to a proper town and expanded to a legitimate province. It was named after my little sister, Minavelle. And the mountains where I fought off a kingdom of dragons were named after mine. These names were granted by Vyndival, not Irista.”

“So how come it’s under Irista Nation now?” Frein developed many assumptions, but he expected Rindea to make them clear anyway.

“It was an act of desperation. The Void Region became less and less controlled. They threatened our safety. A land isolated by sea to its north and desert to its south, Minaveil Province simply had no chance of survival.

“But Evanclad, the leader that he was, was a step ahead. He made an organization and an army able to tackle the Void.”

“The Order of the Void.”

“Correct. In order to help protect my people, I reached out to Mineltha, Evanclad’s wife—”

“Wait, don’t tell me,” Frein interrupted. He caught another glimpse of pain as Rindea spoke Mineltha’s name. “She’s you—”

“My mother, yes. She was Blessed with Fate’s End, granting her incredible powers and unusually longer life. She was two-hundred years old before meeting Evanclad. I was eighty.”

“I was going to say sister…”

“I get that a lot.”

“So, what happened?”

“Minavelle and I offered to reunite our lands with Irista Nation and become the bridge between two factions. It was a logical move from our standpoint. We become a neutral hub while employing protection from both sides.

“Mineltha and Evanclad agreed and a treatise was signed between him and Galavand Vyndival, the King at that time.

“Years quickly passed and eventually the three leaders passed away. Mineltha’s unyielding love for Evanclad triggered a special restriction of Fate’s End and made her age at the same time as Evanclad and they went to the afterlife together. That’s when support from Vyndival stopped coming. We had no choice but completely affiliate ourselves with Kristella.

“I was becoming too old as well. That’s when my end happened. In one of my patrols, The Mist That Carries the Nightmare hunted us down until I was the only one left. Eventually it took my life as well and turned me into something between undead and Nightmare.

“But I was also Worldborn. With my divine authority, no matter how little, I was able to persuade this Deep Void—this Deep Nightmare—to follow my will from time to time. Which led me to you, Frein Nivan, the Visitor.”

Frein never told her his name. In fact, he never even told her about Elizzel or his title as the Visitor. His mind went into overdrive.

“You have a test?” he concluded.

“You wanted a fight, correct?” Rindea replied, smiling. She stood. The sand within Frein expanded until it reached The Mist encircling them. “I need to know if you’re prepared enough to handle the destinies that are tying themselves to yours.”

Frein stood and made a deep bow. His rage had totally subsided, replaced by anxiety and ridiculous excitement.

“It would be an honor to learn from you, First Protector.”

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