Despite the trials and rough lifestyle, the nameless village remained calm for as long as she could remember. Fishing, caring for animals, and leisurely working the small fields, urgency was an almost foreign concept to those around her. Under the leadership of Pan, even the meagre production of the village resulted in more than enough food and money to make it through the year and be even less troubled the next. Since before she was born, the place travelers condescendingly referred to as Salt Village already started to regain its footing. While it may not have been a luxurious life, there was nothing the villagers found lacking.

Imira did not share the contentment of her community.

Only 10 years old, her knowledge of the outside world came from brief rumors from travelers and tales from adults who never left the village themselves. All her needs were provided for, yet there was something that could not be found in the hamlet.

It is not unusual for a child to yearn for adventure, but that wish is only a passing desire with flames that quickly burn out—however for her, a call came from the unreachable expanse. Unceasing and omnipresent,  Imira never knew a time when the need to leave the village subsided.

She waited, because unlike the fleeting passions of youth, her escape was not a simple emotional whim. Exploring beyond the uneventful village was something integral to her mind, choosing to remain was akin to letting herself waste away in a trite locale, with no hope for anything greater.

Though only told in snippets, Imira learned of the dangers waiting for one who traveled. So she took her time preparing. Constantly standing by the chief’s son for many years, she ingratiated herself with Rion, hoping to make him willing to depart and take her with him. Becoming a close childhood friend who stayed by his side in most every situation, as time passed Imira grew confident in her plan.

Two children traveling alone may not be much an improvement from one, but from Imira’s perspective it was not a marginal increase. After all, she had not chosen Rion to be her companion arbitrarily.

Unknown to anyone else, Imira possessed an ability coveted by the wizards of Derriad to the greatest mages of Braan—the ability to see mana. Even if she was unaware of the exact nature, her intuition told her to keep it hidden. Though she experienced nothing of the sort, nevertheless Imira recalled hazy visions of misfortune brought upon those revealed to have such things. As such, the ability of her eyes remained something strange and seldom utilized. With limited knowledge of how to work it, and the strain of doing so, Imira could make little use of it.

Even those with the foggiest of vision could make out a blazing fire. At first she had been totally unaware of what the ability meant for her, but after Imira used it to witness traveling wizards that passed through it came to her. The exact meaning of the cloudy figures remained elusive, but it clearly represented magical power of some sort. That moment, at six years old, was when she began to stick to Rion, whose magical cloud stirred with greater force than any other in the village.

Imira still knew nothing of magic, other than the warnings the clerics gave every year as they collected taxes. Despite her ability to think ahead and preternatural affinity for complex thoughts, in the end, she remained a child. Beyond having Rion accompany her away, no details of how to manage their travel crossed her mind.

Her plan may not have resulted in a favorable outcome for her, but reality spared Imira an ignoble defeat in the wilderness. Over a month ago, a wizard wandered into the village. Normally this would only encourage cautiousness, but despite an imposingly tall form, and an inability to communicate, the magic user somehow ended up settling down.

Impossible recollections flickered through Imira’s mind, and as she thought on them, Alric appeared increasingly familiar. Not in the sense that she heard of him, but in his chipper and intentionally mysterious personality, in the excessively melodramatic movements and demure reactions to socially awkward situations.

Wizards passing through to Glaucen or Medean acted haughty and self assured. Given the vast energy that dwelled within them, perhaps that could only be expected. Excessively friendly, and with a strange magic power that dominated over any other; Alric could only be thought of as an aberration.

In this deviation, Imira placed her hopes and revised her plans for escaping. Years may have passed by at Rion’s side, but she remained aware enough not to fall into her own trap and become attached. Actually leaving superceded old plans, and Alric’s power would grant her far more security.

As Alric learned to speak, Imira stuck by Rion who had been put in charge of teaching the mage. Before fully daring to gamble on him, she wanted to observe how he acted to find the best way to influence him. While the wizard certainly did behave whimsically, Alric was no fool—however he did lack knowledge of the area.

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Approaching him to make sure he realized the dangers of being near Pan’s cursed daughter and the paladins that came around during fall, Imira failed to take into account his vocabulary. Instead, he flipped the conversation around and without meaning to, she revealed her intent.

Green eyes, sparkling with good humor, looked down at her. Reflexively stooping to become ever so slightly closer when speaking, without demanding, his words elicited the desire to respond. When talking to him, there was an indescribable compulsion to say something. Charisma didn't capture it, answering to him was simply the most natural action. Not because Alric expected it, but on a more primal level where that was just the way things went.

So against any conscious judgement on her part, Imira ended up truthfully telling him about her plan to leave. The words came so easily, and while in retrospect she hated how it slipped out, Alric’s blase acceptance of the matter pushed that thought aside in the moment. Watching him sigh and run a hand through his hair, the wizard seemed more exasperated than surprised. As if running away from home happened to be a natural event in life, and he got sucked into it.

In fact, upon further conversation, he seemed more than willing to take Imira along once he left. Without any recompense, his wholehearted acceptance of her companionship began to trigger suspicions. A residual thought from nowhere reminded Imira not to be naive, to act warily towards those overly generous—especially one happy to take her away from home.

That negative impression couldn’t stick to him though. Upsetting preconceptions as easily as he did, making assumptions about Alric always felt wrong. She could only observe his actions and hope they were an accurate representation.

Even had he not been erratic, it was likely she still wouldn’t have been able to discern his motivations. The echoes and foggy visions that both were and were not a part of Imira increased her mental faculties and understanding of things she’d never known—but at the same time it only served to widen the distance between her and others.

The jumbled false memories provided facts; although from the fragments an occasional vignette could be produced, they never provided any social insights. How could she ever find herself in a position to identify with her peers? Lagging behind Imira’s own intellectual development, she could only tag along in Rion’s shadow and hope to not stand out among them.

It got easier to do so over the years, but at the core there was a lack of understanding. Familiarity was the only reason she had any comprehension of those around her.

So when the chief’s daughter fell ill, afflicted by some strange curse, shirking away from Ria was the obvious course of action for Imira. She held no prior grudge against the girl, but knew that once turned, waiting for a cure usually resulted in a fatal mistake. Not ending it right after she was bitten was an understandable sentiment, but if the matter remained unaddressed then it could expand to plague the whole country.

Dabbling with the unknown made Imira uncomfortable. Yet when Alric spoke of bringing Ria with them, she held her tongue. Unease welled up within her, but like a double negative, Alric’s unknown counteracted that of the curse to an extent. No matter what else, at the very least he appeared capable in Imira’s eyes.

However after almost two weeks of doing nothing, Imira once again felt doubt rising up. The mage showed no sign of moving on from the village any time soon, even as fall approached. Several weeks may have remained until the absolute deadline, but even with that taken into account Alric moved too leisurely.

Reticent to bring the matter up, she couldn’t predict how he would react. After much deliberation, Imira finally resolved to bring the matter to his attention. If they were to travel together in the future there needed to be some communication between them. Alric naturally held the dominant position, but he did not act cold—Imira hoped she would be able to convince him to focus on preparations. Criticizing her former ‘plan’ to simply leave with Rion, he needed to be aware of his hypocrisy.

By the time she worked up the courage to do so, he disappeared.

Rion and Pan both stated that he only happened to be departing for a short while to try and find materials to help Ria. As days passed, Imira strived to suppress her growing unease. Alric did as he pleased, and she grew more worried that his whims blew him off course and away from their village forevermore. After all, what did the village have to offer him?

Keeping a distance even from Rion, Imira distanced herself from the village further. Attempting to isolate herself in the nearby woods to calm her tumultuous heart; she may have showed little in the way of outward signs, but her mind frantically whirred away.

The wizard had pointed out the flaw of her old plans, while at the same time extending his hand to her. Taking things slowly, he still promised to take her away from the village and satisfy her dream of growing beyond the confines of her birthplace. He replaced her hope, only to vanish.

Imira logically understood that Alric could not return spontaneously, and his expected time of return had not yet arrived. Even so, she dreaded the day; when it would be seen if he truly returned or not. Were the promises just whimsical statements? Did her presence mean so little as to be overlooked, or did he never intend to follow through in the first place?

Imira only depended on others when she felt it necessary; the validation of others was not something that concerned her. However as self reliant as she behaved, the ephemeral memories of a past inadequately prepared her. It may have all been in her head, but still she felt the sting of betrayal.

Forced to be dependent on another, especially one prone to flights of fancy, the development of a negative dynamic can not be helped. The fact Alric returned exactly as he said he would did not mollify Imira. At the end of it, he propped himself up as the only solution to her desire. Even if it were the case, she could not find herself satisfied.

There would always be the chance of something catching his eye and distracting him. Imira knew that to him, she barely qualified as anything more than a bit of cute decoration. Relentless in his capriciousness, following him brought an uncertainty bigger than any other she encountered.

And yet here she stood, about to follow him anyhow. While it may have been a risk, one made on assumptions she had no way of knowing, there were no other paths ahead.

The thoughts within Imira called out for new lands. This was the call for her to truly run out there and satisfy herself. So no matter the cost she needed to pay, she would do so.

Who knew what lay after succeeding, but Imira needed to at least try and live before perishing.