Atmedanyeh |The Shakkhari Steppe | Interlude

I've long abandoned counting the days since finding myself lost and confused in the streets of Naayir-Nahtama.

It's been a few years and I still don't understand it. Whenever I try to understand it, my thoughts and emotions become hazy, like distant memories concealed in heavy fog. Well, ruminating on this has never proven helpful in recovering my memories.

It has been a long while since the amnesia crossed my mind, I've been too preoccupied with my labors and studies.

For a few days now my dreams have gotten more vivid in frequency. I wonder often about the others.

I haven't heard much from Marko, although we hardly spoke aside from light talk and a few nods in passing. When he finally left to apprentice as a swordmaster, I was a little disheartened but also bittersweet to see him off. He promised to get word to me if he made any breakthroughs.

Considerable time has passed since then and I still wait to hear from him. I do hear news through my correspondence with Nikolai, who’s taken up work under an alvarrian merchant master.

"The work is difficult" he'd written in one of his many letters. "The wages are worth the labor, but it's the adventure and traveling that propels me. Civilization has flourished in many odd places. In the voluminous caverns of active volcanic chambers, whose molten fires are harvested by powerful shards. In the desolate deserts, with seas of sand. Even within the regions of the far north & south, amid the harsh arctics, life flourishes."

Due in part to frequent traveling, Nikolai's letters come at irregular intervals, but are always a delightful surprise to my otherwise mundane temple life. Though they're not as frequent as I'd like, they often come in a thick bundle, providing me many hours of adventure and news, occasionally they're attached with a parcel containing a souvenir from his travels.

Once, I received a dalkarian sweet called lokum. I've taken to it so much I can't visit the seaside city without a brief detour to the confectionary..

The temples have been quite busy these past few days, monks of all ranks shuffling about preparing to host an important figure. Rumor is this person is an alvarrian celestial from Euradai, though I've only heard of that place a few times. There's also rumors that this celestial is on equal footing with Gran Master Kurolos, though how much truth can be taken from rumors I don't know.

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David, crossed legged and hunched over his journal, is interrupted by Aranle, his lithe cat familiat with a coating of dark fur.

He pets the purring beast. "I haven't seen you in a while, where've you you been off to?"

Aranle skulks between his wrapped legs and coils herself comfortably.

"You come at the most inopportune time Aranle, I've only a few minutes." He scratches behind her rotating ears.``You little minx."

He closes the leather bound journal settled on the short-legged table and returns his fountain pen into its corresponding case. With his spare time, he meditates.

Before the temple bells ring, he gently wakes the feline and nudges her away. She glares at him reproachfully but affectionately rubs herself against him before skulking onto the window sill to finish her afternoon nap.

He rises onto his feet and warms his legs. His small room contains little furnishings. A potted reed plant, a small short legged table, a wardrobe containing a few collection of clothes, and a rolled up sleeping mat. Just a few accessories to the life he lived here.

The bells chime in a melodious rhythm that echoes throughout the corridors and temple grounds. A little beyond, those tending to the fields and patties began making their way to the temple.

David feels refreshed and the mind fog he'd been carrying all morning fades. Though it never truly went away. It had been some time since he could think as clear as this.

Before leaving the room, he grabs a thick straw hat from his wardrobe and waves goodbye to Aranle. She flicks her tail in response. David smiles and navigates his way through the temple and beyond the botanic arcades. He bows slightly to any passing monks who were all in contagious good spirits.

Throughout the rest of the afternoon, David labors with a feeling of sweet bliss radiating from his chest, he felt well, worked well, and thought well. His limbs did not tire, and when the time came to rotate shifts, he'd enough energy to continue his labor throughout the night if he'd like.

When dusk approaches and many engage themselves to leisurely activities, all of Atmedanyeh has been taken over by some ethereal bliss. Everyone radiates this bliss unquestioningly.

David returns to his room. Aranle rises from her perch, stretching her limbs. He joins her on the ledge and notices one of Atmedanyeh's ferries reserved for prestigious guests. It crosses the waters, sailing northward to the main temple.

David and Aranle observe the vessel curiously. It irradiates pulses of crystalline celestial energy, reverberating throughout the canyons. The pulsing energy reveals to them the source of that afternoon bliss.