Cold winds blew the jagged walls of the cyclopean seaside cliff as night descended on sixteenth day of Mhorombar in the 1057th year of the First Age. The kind people of Arteia slowly headed into the protective confines of their homes as old Pervica sat at the window, watching the last of the village guard make their round in the vibrant meadows bathed in the silvery light of the Luniorh.
Her withered ears listened as the waves battered against the walls, washing the unfortunate denizens of the sea swimming too close to the shore. The roars reminisced her off her childhood when her father taught her the tale of Arteia – the namesake of their seaside settlement – whom battled a beast of finality on the plateau overlooking the vast kingdom of her divine father.
A battle which lasted three cycles of the Illius and Luniorh, in which the once vibrant foliage grayed and rotted away, and the daughter of the King of the Three Oceans met her valiant end. Her statue still adored the center of the settlement, proudly standing over the nightmarish sculpture of the beast, an amalgamation ripped from the demented mind and fearful heart of mortal kindred.
Pervica herself learned much later after the passing of his father that she herself may have descended from Arteia herself who had many lovers through her century long life, though even if she was the divine blood flowing in their veins had long since faded into the sea of oblivion many included her once dreaded.
Though as the years passed, gifting her with joy and sadness equally, she learned to live with the loss of her family’s gift and now sitting alone in the shadowy confines of her home once filled with the laughter of her children, the disciplinary yells of hers and her late husband, she felt relieved a little that the hour of meeting them once more was not too far away.
With a smile she stared at her reflection in the mirror her late husband brought from the capital of the prosperous Empire, a smile curved onto her face garnished with myriads of wrinkles. Her once lush hair receded and lost its refined luster, her once fair olive toned skin smooth as an aevhe’s lost a bit of its fade, her bright lively eyes appeared tired yet she could still not feel the call of the eternal dream.
As she bathed in the light, watching as tendrils grew and parted ways in the fathomless abyss above, her still sharp ears became aware to the faint and soft creaking of the floor of the spacious interior. She only had to turn a little to know her guest dressed in a nether-like dress exposing her long pale arms beset with nails of sublime matter of pitch blackness.
Under the wail, she could barely make out the blurred pale face with a plump dark lip of divine luster, eyes expressing sadness and joy. Pervica smiled weakly and exhaled as she closed her eyes and began recounting memories still lingering in her mind on this calm night.
**
Approximately 130 years ago, little Pervica accompanied his kind father – a tall lean man with tousled dark hair – to the shores near the cliffs in the season of The Great Gifter. The clear skies, the warm air, the gentle crashing of waves still lingered in her elderly mind along with the coarse, wet sand caressing the bottom of her feet.
Enamored little Pervica stared into the distance with her deeply emerald fulgent eyes while the air snapped at her hair with great force. Even the basket on her back, strapped to her back rustled as the rage of the winds increased as a warning to stay away from the shores.
But as the settlement relied upon the foolishly brave inhabitants of the sea, the group of settlers ventured towards the waves letting the water envelop even their knees. Pervica chuckled as the water and seaweeds tickled her legs and feet while her plain white garments turned soggy and wet.
Watching them from the earthly steps were the guardians of the settlement, enlisted proud members of the 9th Legion comprised of the proud founder races of the great empire encompassing the world of Elhyrissian except for the accursed basin of Dhaugruz. Their segmented brass armor glinted in a radiant glow as the blessed light of the Illius braced upon their smooth, geometrically stiff pieces.
Amongst the guard of the settlement, one drew her attention, a young fair toned changed man older than her only by five years called Phereclus. One who towered over the others while having a body ripped with muscles, no helmet over his head while bony, saw-toothed protuberances sprouted from his thick dark mane while his deep azure eyes had bestial contours to them. Yet all this did not take away from his allure, at least when it came to Pervica.
Yet this idyllic moment of hers came to an end. At the time she was confused for a moment as she watched the guards unsheathe their weapons, rush towards her yet she could not hear their cries as the mood of the waves worsened.
But the answer to their sudden change came in a horrific form when his father’s last cries reached her ears. When she turned to face him, the terrifying image of a bipedal fish of dark glinting scales and a grotesque visage impaling his father’s chest entered her vision.
She was frozen with fear as the wicked Deep One looked at her, the hunched creatures grin revealing his sharpened teeth easily breaking through flesh and bone after it pulled closer his father to himself and gorged on his neck, blood and torn flesh tainting the once azure waters.
When she tried to escape to the shore, tendrils of wicked azure wrapped her legs, slithered above pushing her arms to her sides while dragging her further from the safety of the shore. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she cried for help which came finally in the form of Phereclus’s hardened iron arms the size of fallen logs.
With ease, he brought her to safety while bearing the rage of the Deep One magus accompanying the other hunters. His patience wearing thin, he reflexively hurled his spear into the creature’s distorted fish head with the spear breaking through the darkened skin and flesh like a knife which pierced through envelope.
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On the shore, she turned and buried her face into the cold metal plates, her words stifled by the terror and sorrow lingering in her heart while his hardened hands patting her head brotherly brought little comfort at the time.
Even now that moment felt like an eternity as she listened to the raging waves hitting against the sandy shores, the distorted cries of the Deep Ones still lingering in her mind, though now she could at least look at the waters and tremble not anymore.
**
Twenty years onto that after the harrowing events which led to the blossoming care into a requited love. Yet it was not like anything she imagined as youthful girl of the seaside settlement.
Many nights were spent in heated passion of the two, then it was counteracted by the cold worry when he was called upon duty against the threats gnawing at the foundations of a united world of peace and prosperity. He gave her two seeds which bore life of their two beautiful children bearing small horns which one day sprouted into horns sturdy and magnificent as their fathers’.
The eldest was named Cyneas who from a young age dreamed to follow in the deep footsteps of his father, the second Simmias who born with a curiosity to explore the vast distances of the seas as if his great-great grandfather called out to him through the cyclical waves. And later a third was blessed with the essence of life and mind named Ione after her own mother who kept watch over her after the untimely passing of his father.
But before life found a way, proud Phereclus was called away when a horde of savage natives – as they tended to refer to themselves – amassed around the city of Pyrgos towering high into the infinite sky with the aim of bringing it down. Her heart ached for many nights, and as tears flowed down her cheeks brave Cyneas thought up what if they followed after him.
And so they done with the next caravan which visited their small sea side settlement. Pain of carrying another life within her body paired not too well with the rocking of the cart as they traversed on the hidden road in the Paenivurh Forest.
Emerald green foliage all around her appeared in her mind often as she stared emptily, leaves of the trees transparent as the Illius’s light shone through them. Fear gripped her heart each time as avian and draconic beasts of the skies flew over, often with a barbarian rider atop their necks or spines.
Each time she whispered gratitude to the Eight and the One for shrouding them, yet her prayers went silent as one day close to their destination, the earth began to tremble. Thick vines of wicked kind broke through, bursting with a bestial roar forming a war-like cacophony in tandem with the shrieks of the lupine mounts.
Her arms tightly embraced Cyneas and Simmias sitting in the cart with her while the sounds of battle raged beyond the veiled confines of the cart. Yet her fears manifested once a lone Changed-Folk with half a body of a spriggan’s stepped into the cart.
Through the decades Phereclus weren’t just a protective mate, but one who imprinted knowledge enough to protect oneself. While the initial shock made her curl over her children, she quickly turned around ready to face the grinning changed-folk.
Her mind raced through the few spells taught to her until it fell on one of fire nature. Runes appeared on her bulging womb, mana channeled within her body and soul, and even from her unborn daughter empowering the simple spell which flew from her palm as it swirled into a blurry mess.
One last chuckle came from the changed-folk as its pride brought its downfall as he believed too deeply in his mutated blood’s protection. In a blink of an eye, his chuckle turned to bloody shrieks as he fell out from the cart, onto the dirt ground while the flames gnawed at his bark and flash like a hungry pack of wolves until only a charred cadaver remained.
Pervica panted slowly, sweat flowed down her smooth olive toned skin while her soul trembled with ecstatic thrill of a freezing body washed over with warm water, wanting more.
**
Thirty years later, the thunderous roar of fireballs exploding in the Nukrenia River near their sea side settlement awakened this memory, once more awakening the primal craving within her being. She exhaled deeply, smothering the thrilling craving while she continued braiding the silken brown hair of her little dear daughter.
The roars that came thrice in number did not fill her with the dread of that day, the uncertainty of life coming to an end, to not see her beloved anymore and the regret of bringing her children along. The source of these roars came from Phereclus and Cyneas who proved to be a quick learner, a natural magus with greatness ahead of him.
Sulfurous stench filled the air of the colorful meadows around the bank for a short moment before the winds carried them away. Phereclus and Cyneas stood still as they breathed deeply in an almost meditative stance as they quenched the same craving that ailed her the moment the savage met his end.
Her gaze for a moment wandered to the bank of the river littered with the corpses of half-burnt fishes whose smell quickly spread towards them, even awakened hunger within them prompting her to give in to the thrilling craving which still ailed her.
With three deep breaths she raised her arm and the dozens of small corpses rose into the air and flew carefully towards them. Her dear ones watched amazed followed by their claps as they gathered by the kind order of their father, her dear late husband.
Momentary worry gripped her heart as they began snacking on the cleaned corpses, little dear Iona asked her father to teach her to will flames into reality. Seeing her worried expression, Phereclus offered to teach her once she reached the same age as her brother.
This simple idyllic moment imprinted itself into her mind for the rest of her life. Even as life slipped from her body, the moment they all sat amongst the colorful foliage of the meadows frozen in eternity, yet they all began to fade slowly.
First Phereclus bid her goodbye, promising to wait for her in the gray-walled city governed by Mhorsotas. Cyneus followed as his greatness proved to be a short-lived one after the spear of wild revenant brought his demise in the cold and cruel north.
Simmias slid away as his fate remained shrouded to her last day, though decades later her hope faded as she knew the sea can be just as cruel as it was often gentle to those traversing it.
Iona remained only as the gentle girl grew into a beautiful woman tending to her even as she slowly faded away through the decades. She stayed by her side through all these decades, tending to her needs, replacing her in the fields, though just like his brother, Iona herself harbored ambition waiting to be commenced.
Though for this reason she wished to beg Obryllia, the exhaustion accumulated through centuries stifled her words, took the light from her eyes as she blankly stared into the shadows where the Solemn Shepherd stood, a single tear flowing down her pale cheeks.