Ilyash rolled over on his cot and went back to sleep, his dreams filled with shadowy visions of wraiths and ancient spirits attempting to speak with him.

“Grant me vengeance, mortal…” another voice woke him.

“Agh, let me sleep.” Ilyash muttered, attempting to cover his ears with a pillow and snuggling deeper under the covers.

“Ilyash! Time for breakfast!” This time, it was his mother’s voice that woke him through the wicker door that separated his room from the rest of their family home.

“I’m coming, I’m coming…” he replied in an inaudible mumble, his mother standing behind the door for a moment longer before moving away as she heard him slowly begin to untangle himself from the blankets.

Rubbing at his eyes, the young man sat up in his bed before blearily looking around his small earthen room.

The room was dark outside of a thin line of illumination coming from beneath the door to the rest of the house. In the shadows, one could barely make out the small bedside table set up next to the boy’s cot, various bits of rubbish strewn atop it. Small mounds could be seen along the floor of the room, shadows giving them a mildly sinister appearance.

Making his way out of his bed, Ilyash knelt down briefly to pick something up from one of the mounds - a simple, spun, cotton long-sleeved shirt, patched in places and no longer anything like its original off-white color, the dirt floor and previous use having long since turned it to a dirt-gray hew.

Continuing to stumble around, the young man stopped at another pile to quickly pull on some trousers and a warmer sweater to cover his upper body from the impending cold of the outdoors. Looking around the room once more, trying to decide if he’d forgotten anything, Ilyash opened the bedroom door and walked into the kitchen to see his mother stirring a large kettle on the hearth.

“I’m up, I’m up. Didn’t sleep well.” he greeted her, still barely audible.

“That’s what you get for spending so much time with Old Maise. Even I get nightmares from some of her stories.” his mother, Elly, gently reprimanded him before setting down her ladle and walking over to give him a quick hug of greeting.

“Now, go eat some porridge before it gets cold and go help your father with the firewood for tonight.” his mother told him, stepping back. “I’ll be in the workshop, Tod said they could use some new mocassins so we should be able to get you a new shirt for tonight. Your sisters are out playing.”

Nodding, rather than speaking again, Ilyash made his way into the small kitchen where a bowl already sat waiting for him on the table, dried berries topping the simple porridge, a wooden spoon sitting next to the meal. Stopping to grab a mug from a cupboard, Ilyash filled it with water from the pitcher sitting near the hearth, boiled earlier by his mother, before making his way to the waiting table. Pulling out one of the stools from beneath the table, he looked groggily at the food, sitting.

“Good thing I actually like porridge.” Ilyash thought to himself as he picked up the spoon and began to slowly eat the food, gradually waking up as the flavor of the berries hit his taste buds. His sisters frequently complained about the blandness of their food, but Ilyash had always loved dried berries, and porridge was as good a delivery mechanism as any. Almost, at least. He still preferred to have the berries baked into some oatmeal squares, but beggars can’t be choosers.

Finishing up breakfast, Ilyash quickly rinsed off the bowl in the sink, thankful that they’d gotten running water set up in their house; he'd always hated having to haul buckets of water for dishes. Placing the bowl back on the table to dry off, he put on a pair of warm, wool-lined moccasins that his mother had made for him at the end of the summer and made his way outside through the almost completely round wooden door that protected their home from the elements.

Outside, Ilyash was forced to briefly shade his eyes as his eyes adjusted to the bright morning sun. Their house was set into the side of a fairly large hill, which, while not exclusively theirs, still required one to walk a good distance before they’d get to the next burrow set into the hillside. A light coating of snow had fallen overnight, changing the landscape from its summertime brownish-maroon to one more closely resembling the tundra which it was for the majority of the year.

More hills, doors darkening their sides could be seen all around, though the closest one was hundreds of feet away. Instead, the area directly in front of their hill was the central square of the village, cleared and flattened to serve as a gathering area for the community.

A large fire pit served as the center of the area, dozens of rough-hewn benches set to one side in a semi-circle around the center. The benches themselves weren’t anything special, merely tree trunks which had been halved lengthwise before receiving a minimum amount of polish on the flattened surface to avoid splinters. On the far side of the central pit, smaller fires and hundreds of tables dotted the area, groups of people already starting preparations for the night’s festival.

Ilyash could see the carcasses of wild boars, mounds of tubers, and large piles of firewood near the scattered figures as they worked, the young man’s stomach rumbling longingly as he dreamt of the future feast.

Stretching, Ilyash turned and started walking along the side of their hill, making his way to the wooded area behind their home, where he knew his father was chopping additional firewood for both their hearth and night’s gathering. Despite the snow covering the ground, Ilyash wasn’t miserable yet, though he knew it wouldn’t be long before he dreaded getting out from under his covers each morning. He really wished they lived somewhere warmer, he’d heard from passing merchants that some parts of the world never got snow at all, much less in September.

Soon enough, Ilyash heard the familiar *thunk* of axes hitting wood as he spied his father working to fell a massive pine tree around the bend of the hill. Further away, other villagers were also combatting their own trees, while others still were gathering up branches and bundling them to take back.

“Ilyash! You’re up!” His father greeted him, cheerily waving at him from beside the massive tree which he’d barely made a dent in with the relatively small axe he was wielding. “Hope you slept well! Grab some branches and help me get them back to the house. I know you’re eager for tonight, but we have lots of work to finish up first!”

“Tonight? What’s tonight?” Ilyash replied with a straight face.

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“Don’t give me that kiddo, now come help out.” His father replied, chuckling softly before resuming his assault on the tree, the rhythmic sound of his chopping joining that of the other lumberjacks.

Sighing quietly to himself, Ilyash took stock of the area. His father had brought a basket filled with twine for wrapping branches and twigs to make them easier to haul back, but it would still be a long process. The young man didn’t really hate helping with gathering firewood, it was just…boring. At least today it would keep him busy and stop him from brooding about the festival, he thought.

Starting with the work, his mind quickly got to brooding. The Ritual of Age. This was his year he knew, something he’d been waiting for, for as long as he could remember. Yet now that he was eighteen and expected to start his adult life, he didn’t feel ready. It didn’t help that he wasn’t really big on crowds, much less being paraded in front of hundreds of people just waiting to gossip about his future.

How much would things change, he wondered. He’d be an adult, expected to strike out on his own: move out from his parents home and either work a trade or go to the academy…but did he really want to leave home? He’d always dreamt of going off to the academy, becoming a powerful mage, and eventually finding somewhere warmer to live but…his family was here. He’d been thinking about what he’d do for months now and was still undecided about what to do. It was just so much easier to…not decide, to not deal with his problems, to not think of the future.

“Hey Ilyash!” a voice interrupted his reverie, nearly causing him to drop his current handful of sticks.

Startled, Ilyash turned his head to the speaker, only now noticing that his father had stopped chopping and was standing some ways away talking to Hank Biggensprout, their next door neighbor. Focusing on the speaker, Ilyash broke into a smile while looking at the young woman who had interrupted him.

Shorter than average, Laura had a slender but well muscled build. Her long, chestnut brown hair was barely visible as it peeked out from underneath the hood she’d taken to wearing of late. The familiar, slightly crooked smile which sometimes made his heart skip a beat was beaming up at him; her big, expressive chocolate brown eyes staring piercingly at him.

“Laura!” Ilyash exclaimed as he carefully set his bundle on the pile he’d managed to gather while daydreaming, happy to see his oldest friend. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Looking for you of course. Need help?” She asked, looking at his work.

“Sure, but don’t you have your own chores?” Ilyash replied, looking at her quizzically.

“Yea…but I couldn’t focus. Tonight, you know. And then tomorrow…” Laura trailed off, now staring at him intently. “Have you…decided?”

Picking up some twine from his father’s basket, Ilyash began to organize the branches into easier-to-carry bundles and wrapping them so that they wouldn’t fall apart, avoiding looking at Laura.

“I…no. I want to go to Typhiria and the academy but…everyone is here.” He trailed off, uncertainly.

Bending down to help him, Laura’s arm brushed against his for a moment before she spoke. “I’m leaving Ilyash, I’m going with the next caravan to Y’gythys.”

“Y’gythys?!” Ilyash stopped with a jerk, turning to stare at her. “You’ve decided to go to the Underdark then. How are you going to get in?”

“One of the dark ones came through two summers ago. She offered me a token, I never told you because… I didn’t know how to tell you I was leaving.” Laura spoke, starting on her own bundle, mostly to keep her hands busy and to avoid looking at the young man.

Not knowing how to reply, Ilyash continued his own bundling while staring into the middle distance, his mind unable to focus as it tried to grapple with the news.

“My murderer is in Y’gythys, boy.” a whisper sounded in Ilyash’s ears, still haunting, despite being no longer as frightening as when the voices had first come to him earlier in the year. This one was confusing though, they’d never responded to anything he said before, but this one seemed to have heard Laura’s proclamation.

Looking around, Ilyash tried to find the source of the voice but was unable to see anything out of the ordinary in the wooded area, instead only seeing Laura’s concerned gaze glancing up from her work, waiting for his response.

“It’s the damned voices. This one told me they were murdered in Y’gythys, but I don’t see anyone…” He told her, trying to explain his gaze. “They’ve been more active lately, was awake half the night.”

“They respond to you now? Have you talked to anyone about them yet?” Laura asked, quickly catching on.

“No…just you. How do you tell someone you hear voices? Much less angry spirits…or something?” He looked at her uncertainly before continuing, “And no, they’ve never replied to anything I’ve said before, that one’s new.”

“You need to figure out what’s going on.” She replied. “Maybe talk to the Elders?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing, besides I don’t even know where to start.” Ilyash confided in her, looking somewhat relieved to be speaking.

“Hearing voices talking about their murders isn’t nothing! The Elders might know what’s going on.” Laura was vehement in her rebuke, grabbing his arm.

“Maybe after tonight, maybe the ritual…” He trailed off, his mind returning to the evening’s events and Laura’s impending departure.

“You should talk to them, or you should come with me. I’m sure the matrons can help.” Laura told him, concern clear on her face.

“Maybe.” was all Ilyash said, his voice noncommittal before asking, “You’re really going then? How can you just…leave?”

“I want to see the world, I want to do things! I’m tired of chores.” The young woman told him, her voice growing in excitement as she talked about her future adventures while her brows furrowed as she tried to mask her own uncertainty behind the confident expression.

“You’re always so confident. I…I don’t know what to do. I’m scared of leaving. I’m scared of the voices. I’m scared.” Ilyash spoke, his gaze cast down as he did so, avoiding her eyes, his arm remaining in her grip.

“One of us needs to be confident, otherwise the three of us would never get anything done. Both you and Benjamin should come with me, otherwise you’ll never leave.” Laura’s voice started off confident, but ended with a hopeful tint to it as she prompted him to join her once again.

“I…I’ll come visit.” Ilyash shivered, the early fall chill seeming to sink into his bones all of a sudden, making him regret not putting on a warm coat before leaving the house.

“Ilyash, you’re my best friend, but we both know you’re never going to come visit if you don’t leave with me.” Laura challenged, looking hurt.

“I will too. First, I’ll go to the academy at Typhiria to learn magic, and then I’ll come visit you and we can go on adventures together.” the young man declared, his voice growing in confidence as he spoke, taking up her challenge.

Laura gave an exasperated grunt, reaching down to pick up a bundle for the trek back. “Magic shmagic, who needs that stuff anyway? I don’t trust it.”

“Don’t you remember the wizard that came to town when we were kids? Fireballs and portals and and…!” Ilyash spoke, seeming to come further out of his stupor, excitement creeping back into his voice as he spoke.

“Sure, was nice to get a fire going. Whatever.” The young woman replied grumpily, but smiled slyly as her friend seemed to get back some of his passion from their banter. “I’ll miss you though. You’d better keep your promise to come visit.”

The pair started their trek back to the center of town, hands laden with branches for the evening’s fires, continuing to banter as they tried to keep their minds off the changes that the evening would bring.