The Kila’tor hold both in name and their customs similarities to the Adjhin’tor east of The Spine, even if they vehemently deny such a claim. They pertain little to no contact with the outside world, instead choosing to isolate themselves in small and near-uninhabitable valleys within the mountains.

Any attempts at annexation have been quickly discouraged by their savage ways and aggressive behavior. The Kila’tor’s reverence of the so-called Matriarch only serves to accentuate their incompatibility with the rest of Ceraviehl, if such a beast even exists.

Excerpt from The Kila’tor: beliefs and customs, written by Thea Baros

Silas’ fist met stone as he shattered Zaya’s shield and immediately threw another punch into her stomach. Zaya doubled over and fell backwards, propping herself up on one knee as she stood up again. “Good punch, little boy,” she smirked.

“Not my name,” he said, a smile on his lips.

Despite the girl’s annoying antics, Silas found himself enjoying the regular spars with Zaya. She was surprisingly strong for her small frame, and they had both progressed quite a bit during the last moon of their travels. His skin barely hurt after punching through Zaya’s stone shield, and the girl showed more versatility in the use of her Art.

The ground beneath his feet rumbled as a spike of stone shot at his legs, Silas dodging it easily with a small side step. Letting his spear shoot into his hand, he pointed the blunt end at Zaya. Dozens of pebbles floated before the girl, her feet squared. “Little boy be tired already?”

Forcing energy into his legs, Silas pounced forward, the wind whipping at his cloak as he weaved through the barrage of stones. He couldn’t let her win.

Gnarly sat on the side of the road, popping another piece of dried fruit into his mouth as he observed their spar. “Creak!”

Each passing day traveling with the barbarians made it harder for Silas to keep his guard. So far, he still hadn’t figured out what they really wanted from him. They were near the end of their travels, with the hills of the Kila’tor straight ahead.

A few days ago, Silas had talked with Batu and learned the family had forsaken their tribe when they entered Ceraviehl, although Batu wouldn’t tell him why. Silas suspected it had something to do with the brand on Zaya’s forehead. He had asked her about it, once. That had turned out to be a mistake. She just got angry at him out of nowhere and had started pelting him with stones. Silas shook his head. As if a simple “no” wouldn’t have done it as well.

Despite the war having taken hold everywhere, they had managed to avoid stumbling into any other soldiers from either side. During the first fortnight after leaving the tower, they had still used the road leading to the territory of the Kila’tor. That had been a mistake. Two times, they had almost run into a barbarian patrol.

Silas didn’t want to think about what would happen if he hadn’t spotted them in time. A few days ago, Batu had told him that they had forsaken their tribe when they entered Ceraviehl, making them enemies of all other Adjhin’tor. Zaya seemed to be ashamed of that, for some reason.

He patted Gnarly absently with one hand. However, he found only empty air. A lively laugh caught his attention. To his right, Zaya held a few pieces of dried fruit in one hand, throwing them at Gnarly with the other. Gnarly caught every single one of them with his mouth, creaking each time. Gnarly noticed Silas staring and stopped chewing, his eyes shifting to the side.

Zaya turned around. “What, you want one also?” she asked and promptly threw a piece of fruit at him. Silas glared at her. However, caught between a mix of indignation and anger, he only managed to get out an incomprehensible splutter. Throwing one more fleeting glance at Gnarly, he stormed off. A drawn-out creak sounded from behind him. Sitting down on a tree stump, he took the booklet out of his cloak.

“Creak.” Gnarly climbed onto his lap, holding a piece of fruit up with both hands.

“It’s ok, I just… don’t get why you like her so much.”

Gnarly simply smiled. An image of an earlier conversation popped into Silas’ mind. “You’re right, we had that conversation already.”

“Creak.”

With every day, the forest thinned out more. Proud mountains towered high above them, marking the territory of the Kila’tor. A twisted path seemed to start somewhere at the bottom and make its way up the mountains. For days on end, the small group hiked through the rocky terrain, with not a single soul to be seen.

They had made camp in a small cave to take shelter from the mountain winds. Silas sat at the cave’s entrance, having taken the first watch. A soft breeze blew across his face, its whisper the only thing disturbing the otherwise silent night. Clear moonlight shone from above, illuminating the dull, grey rock. He had never been this high up.

The mountain ridge known as The Spine drew itself in a near-perfect straight line as far as the eye could see, with the forest gradually thinning out as the terrain sloped upwards, the oaks and maples grudgingly ceding their territory to the cedars and pines wedged in between the mountains.

Even from this far away, he could still spot the massive Crystal River somewhere in the north rushing down the mountains, branching off into multiple creeks and brooks as it disappeared within the forest.

Silas let out a soft chuckle as he thought about what Tom would say if he saw him now in his current situation. Silas had been so adamant about joining the Legion, and now he stood watch over the people he wanted to defend his country from. He couldn’t help but feel he had taken a wrong turn somewhere. Yet, traveling with the family and sparring with Zaya hadn’t been all that bad, even if it pained him to admit it.

Now their journey was almost at an end, and their ways would inevitably part. The family would seek refuge among the Kila’tor and Silas would continue his journey. Alone. Anger boiled up in him as he stomped on the surfacing emotion. There was no reason to feel bad about leaving them behind. They were not his friends, and they never would be.

Silas tensed up as Nergui sat down beside him. He hadn’t heard her wake up, let alone approach him.

“Thank you fight with Zaya. She need friend now.”

Silas didn’t respond. His gaze was locked onto the forest below, a question bubbling up within him. The silence stretched itself between them, but Nergui didn’t seem to mind. She craned her neck up into the sky, letting the mountain breeze caress her face. Her short, black hair ruffled the wind as she closed her eyes and inhaled the night.

“Not want sleep?” she asked him, her eyes still closed.

Finally, the question surfaced. He had to know. “Why did you want me to travel with you?” he began, staring at Nergui. “We are nothing alike. You are barbarians, I am Ceraviehlian. Our people have been at war for centuries. I could have killed you ten times in your sleep. So why do you trust me?”

“Save us from attack. Want repay debt. Also, honor to travel with Ravuhn,” Nergui calmly responded.

Silas didn’t believe her, however. There had to be more to it. “Is that all?”

Nergui was silent for a moment. “No.” She opened her eyes, letting her gaze wander over the forest below. “There be much pain in your heart, Silas,” she said eventually. “Too much for so young. Not know why you travel without family, but Batu and I not want you be alone.”

Silas’ throat constricted upon the mention of his family. His mother’s mutilated corpse, her lifeless eyes staring up at him. The pleas of his father to flee. To run away. The expanse below Silas suddenly became blurry, a few shaky sobs escaping his throat. Nergui’s hand landed on his shoulder, and although he tried to shove it away, he couldn’t. Silas hated himself for it.

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“You be good person, Silas. Will always have home with us. Not forget.” Nergui’s soft voice reached him.

Silas clenched his fists to get his emotions under control. His home had been taken from him when her people attacked his family, and he wouldn’t have one, ever again. Nothing Nergui could say or do would change that. He had just lain down when Nergui perked up, her voice barely above a whisper. “Danger.”

Silas immediately grabbed his bow. During the night, everything looked the same. He concentrated on his Artsight. Pieces of wood, not far from him moved through the air in irregular patterns, but when he tried to spot them, he saw nothing. A drawn bow pointed at this face from a few feet away.

“Don’t. Move.”

Multiple figures appeared from within the shadows of the night, most of them armed with already-drawn bows. Odd-looking spikes attached to long pieces of rope hung at each of their hips. One figure strode forward, her face weathered from the elements. Unlike the rest of the people around her, she didn’t seem to be carrying any weapons.

The woman’s grey eyes looked down at Silas. “It’s not every day that you see a group of Adjhin’tor traveling with one of the lowlanders. Are they holding you hostage, little boy?”

Zaya coughed, the edge of her mouth betraying her smirk. Silas took a calming breath before answering. “No, I was leading them through the forest near Bryme.”

“And why would a Wielder such as yourself do that, hmm?”

Silas opened his mouth to respond, only to close it again immediately. If he was honest with himself, he didn’t even know why he was traveling with them. But more importantly, how did the woman know he was a Wielder? Nergui eventually came to his help.

“Save us by attack. He travel south, and we ask him travel with us. Great debt,” she spoke up, bowing her head in the leader’s direction.

The woman’s gaze bore through him, sending shivers down his spine. “You and I will have a little chat later.”

“And what are you doing here, children of the Naija?” she asked, her voice gaining a dangerous edge.

Nergui’s voice faltered for a heartbeat. “We search refuge. Us no war.”

“I see. Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you on the spot for trespassing. You Adjhins have no place among the Kila’tor.”

Silas tensed up and connected his spear to his Inner Landscape. The woman’s eyes flickered to him, her smile so wide her teeth showed. “Go ahead. Try me, boy.”

“Creak.” Gnarly stared at the woman. Silas thought he saw a flicker of hesitation cross her features.

“We no Adjhin’tor. Us no tribe,” Batu added before turning to his daughter. “Zaya, Zahtru Nov.”

Zaya, who had been silent until now, brushed away the bangs covering her forehead. Chin raised, she stared at the woman with unblinking eyes, the defiance written all over her face.

“What a most peculiar group you people are. It’s been a while since I’ve seen one of the Hanguhn. You must have quite the story to tell,” she mused. Doing a quick gesture with her hand, the bows were lowered. Silas released his breath.

“Pack your things, we’re leaving. Now.”

Everyone hurriedly stuffed their bags and huddled together.

“Where are you taking us?” Silas asked her uncertainly.

Silas moved to stand behind Batu. Something about the woman gave him the chills. Turning her back on them, the woman began to walk down the rocky path ahead of them. The rest of the cloaked figures followed her silently.

“Come here, boy.”

Silas froze. What could she want from him? Was she angry he had helped the barbarians? He hesitantly passed the archers, neither one doing so much as sparing him a glance.

“You look pretty young to be a hedgewitch Wielder, boy. What’s your secret?”

Silas grit his teeth. “I trained every day for the past year. Ain’t no secret about it.”

The woman was silent for a moment. Had he said something wrong? “Who is your master?” she asked finally.

“His name is Tom.”

“Where does he live?”

Silas hesitated. He didn’t like the way she looked at Gnarly. “He used to live in Bryme, before the war started.”

The woman inhaled sharply and shook her head. Putting one arm over his shoulder, she leaned in close. Silas could smell her breath on his skin. “If you ever lie to me again, boy, I will cut your throat sooner than you can take a breath, do you understand?”

Silas shivered. “He lives in the woods near Bryme, somewhere near the Crystal River.”

“Good boy. Did this Tom also gift you the creature?”

“Creak!” Gnarly voiced with indignation. Apparently, he didn’t like being called a creature.

“No, I found him in a tree. Why?”

They spent the rest of the way in silence. The night was cool this high up in the mountains, the biting wind going straight through to the bones if one didn’t hold their cloak tight enough. None of the archers seemed to mind, however. Loose rocks tumbled down, their bouncing sound soon fading away far below them.

The perpetual darkness of the night was only dispersed by the silver moonlight that shone down on the mountains and barely illuminated the narrow path they were walking on. Silas lost track of how often their path turned and winded. They walked well into the night. Eventually, the sun emerged from behind the mountains, its tangerine sheen a welcome relief to his tired eyes.

Silas almost bumped into one of the archers before he noticed they had stopped. An almost vertical wall of stone stood before them. A couple of the cloaked figures unhooked the spikes dangling from their waists. With a flick of their wrists, the spikes shot upwards and lodged themselves into the stone. Silas gaped in awe as he watched the archers pull themselves up the ropes like it was nothing.

The woman shoved him towards one of the dangling ropes. “You’re wasting sunlight, lowlander.”

Wiping his sweaty palms on his breeches, Silas began the ascent.

“Creak!”

“Of course you like this, it’s not you who has to do the work,” Silas huffed.

“Creak, creak.” Gnarly patted his head.

With great effort, Silas pulled himself up the rope, sincerely hoping it wouldn’t simply come off while he climbed. He collapsed as soon as he reached the top, his arms cramping from the strain. One of the archers muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “weak lowlanders”, but Silas was too exhausted to care.

Standing up, he momentarily couldn’t believe his eyes. Wedged between the mountains, a lush green valley lay far below them. Two waterfalls cascaded down from each side, forming small streams that met at the middle of the valley and came together in a larger creek that disappeared somewhere towards the distant end of the valley.

The early morning sun shone down on the crystalline water, bathing the valley in a warm glow. Trees dotted the rock everywhere, looking small to his eyes. The mountainsides were littered with caves, some placed so high Silas wondered how the people got up there in the first place.

“Enough gawking.” They made their way down a slope, eventually stopping before a large cave entrance. A tunnel led straight into the rock, its walls painted in vibrant colors depicting rivers, forests, and different kinds of animals.

“Go in, our elder expects you. Show her respect.”

Zaya was the first to go in. Her parents soon followed, with Silas making up the rear. Soft-glowing orbs hang from the walls, shining faint blueish light onto the painted walls. A river flowed along the ceiling in wavy patterns, its colors so vivid they seemed to sparkle with the light’s reflection.

Depictions of chimeras, derots, and mountain goats adorned the walls, each one painted in astonishing detail. The tunnel soon opened up into a large cavern. In the middle of it, a woman sat meditating, wearing nothing but rough-looking rags.

“Please, come in.” Silas hadn’t seen her mouth move.

A single head-sized orb hung from the ceiling, pulsing with light. Silas’ breath faltered as he stood beside Zaya. Gigantic ruby-red slits looked back at him from the rear end of the wall. Deep fear settled into his bones. All he wanted to do was run as far away as he could. He was nothing but prey to this creature. It took him a moment to realize it was just a painting. Tar black scales covered the head of the creature, seeming to absorb the weakly pulsing light from above.

No matter how often Silas told himself it was just a painting, he couldn’t help but feel watched. Its image radiated absolute supremacy. Silas didn’t know what kind of creature it was, but one thing was clear to him—there was nothing and nobody who could ever hope to challenge such a powerful being.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” The old woman in the middle of the cavern finally opened her eyes. “Gura’nael, the first founder, is believed to have painted this over a millennium ago after catching a glimpse of the great Matriarch herself. Even after all this time, I still catch myself getting lost in its majesty.” Despite her apparent age, the woman had a surprisingly smooth voice.

Batu and Nergui immediately prostrated themselves before the grey-haired woman. Zaya and Silas followed suit, if a bit hesitantly.

“Honor to Kila’tor,” Batu and Nergui said in unison.

“Creak,” Gnarly gave the woman a curt nod.

Wrinkled lips drew a smile across a heavily lined face. “Please, there is no need for that. I am just an old woman, after all.”

Silas was relieved to be able to stand up again. This was the first time he ever had to prostrate himself before someone, and something about it seriously irked him.

“Thank you,” Nergui said, bowing to the woman again.

“No need to thank me. Now, what can this one do for you children of the Naija?”

“Apologies, but no children of Naija. We Hanguhn. Seek refuge from war.”

“Yes, Aifwa, your guide, told me your daughter was branded. However, I am afraid we cannot just take you in. Many seek to escape from the war, and resources in this valley are very limited,” the woman explained, looking at them with sympathy.

“We understand. Offer services to Kila’tor.” Batu took out a small patch of cloth from his pocket and held it in his open palm. The piece slowly grew, strings of cloth weaving itself into a patch that was soon double its original size.

“I see, I see. We might use a clothweaver. You are a fighter, I presume?” The woman turned her gaze at Nergui.

“Yes, honored one. We also bring gifts to Kila’tor for show gratitude.” Nergui took a small leather sack out of one of her pockets, laying it on the ground before the woman. The strap undid itself, revealing three small, transparent gems.

“Unattuned crystals? These are quite a rare sight on this side of The Spine.” She sighed. “However, I fear we have no enchanters with the ability to properly work with them. They are as good as useless to us.”

Nergui visibly cringed. Nearly all of their fortune had been spent on the purchase of the gems. Batu opened his mouth to speak, only to close it again as the woman held up a hand.

“But do not despair. This valley was founded on the principle of sanctuary, and it would pain me to send you away again after what must have been an incredibly long journey.” The woman paused, looking at each of them in turn. “The Kila’tor will agree to take you in, under one condition.”