Two lonely hours had passed by his count when the noises started to unnerve him. The wind was behaving inappropriately for what was supposed to be a calm desert night. It had started at the trembling periphery of his senses, breezes whistling through the stoney landscape turned to soft and urgent whispers in some forgotten song. Fleeting, unrecognisable syllables prickled Alter’s ears, promising dark vows and ancient regrets if only he would understand them. Despite this temptation he remained unswayed by the invisible intrigues of the forsaken. His Lovecraftian Horseshit detector was going off and, in this unknown world of magic and mystery, he wasn’t about to start dancing in the pale moonlight with any ghosts of yore. Not even the ones with fancy hats.

The scene shifted, the soundscape pivoted away from voices to the gentle lapping of waves along the shore. The soft creak of shifting wood was punctuated by the cries of wheeling gulls, somewhere in distant aethers a bell started its steady chime. He could taste salt upon his lips, but that had to be his imagination. Then the whispers returned in a sudden surge, collapsing and condensing into one coherent presence. A muttering, rasping voice complained and bemoaned an unfair life. It spoke with a certain sinister slyness, schemes both slothful and slippery. Alter felt a wave of bristling reproach and malicious negligence wash over him, the lost feelings of a man who hated the world, and was convinced the world hated him in return. Then their tone shifted in both emotion and intensity. It began pleading, begging for forgiveness from some absolute and uncaring authority. Desperation began to peak as the campfire began to waver and sputter as if caught in a non-existent gale. Then silence. Peace. Broken only by the crackle of the flames as the fire settled back into its gentle rhythm.

With a pained gasp, Oliver lunged upright on his bedroll. His breathing was ragged, his skin deathly pale and his eyes were wide and disoriented. Alter grunted to himself in realisation, the man had mentioned that a portion of the soul belonging to the bandit he’d interrogated would be ‘expelled’ during the night. He had neglected to inform him that this process would breach into the waking world. Well, he was asleep at the time so he could hardly blame him for that. Alter was simply glad that this moment of insanity at least had a reasonable explanation. He couldn’t help but chuckle at that thought. How did a man’s soul being sucked from his body for interrogation purposes and later being expelled as part of a dream causing tangible supernatural events earn the label of ‘reasonable explanation’? It was fascinating how quickly the human brain could move the goalposts for what it considered acceptable perceived reality.

Gingerly, Oliver levered himself up and onto his feet and began taking careful steps towards Alter’s rocky seat.

“I don’t think I will ever be able to get used to the dreams.” He admitted as he sat down heavily next to him.

“It was certainly an eerie sight, even from over here.” Alter agreed as he offered the man his water flask.

Oliver took the offer gratefully and took three deep swallows before returning it with a noticeably shaky wrist.

“You saw some of the effects?” He asked.

“Mostly just sounds. A lot of whispering, some ambient ocean noise, I can’t imagine what it was like for you.”

“Intense. He was a … difficult man. His life was full of spite and poor decisions.” Oliver sighed, shivering as his recovery continued.

“You saw more than you bargained for then?” Alter asked, sensing that he needed to keep him talking in order to help him regain his composure.

“He was a fool, a blind fool. He was pressed into service on a privateer vessel out of the Brokenfang Coast having gone broke in the casinos of Holferay. He spent three years under the whip, but all it did was make him determined to work less. Then he gets into an argument with a superior about the supposed affection of a … ‘Lady of the Docks’. He’s promptly thrown overboard and by sheer chance washes up alive on the coast east of here. Shortly afterward he falls in line with the gang that attacked us and you know the rest.” Oliver explained, his eyes half closed as the memories of the fool continued to linger.

“A hard life.” Alter nodded. He didn’t want to call what he was feeling a pang of sympathy, rather a sober acknowledgement of the universe’s lack of care.

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“It didn’t have to be. All this could’ve been avoided if he’d kept his damned mouth shut when that bastard Lorfield walked through the door. He brought all of this on himself.” Oliver spat.

“Easy, you’re living his life a little too much there.” Alter warned.

“Ah, you're right. Sorry. It’s hard to differentiate between my memories and his right now.”

“Think nothing of it. As a means of steering this conversation away from that particular nastiness, I was just admiring the stars tonight. It’s truly amazing how much the cosmos has to offer if you only take the time to look.” Alter turned his eyes upward.

“Kalaton’s Tears shine this night.” Oliver intoned quietly.

“Kalaton’s Tears?” Alter asked, his interest piqued by the possibility of gaining fresh information.

“You don’t follow The Four Entwined in your nation?” Oliver asked, a hint of surprise in his voice.

“It’s something I’ve never really had time to study.” Alter responded quickly in an attempt to avoid the question.

“The Four Entwined are the creators. Gods, I suppose you could say. Sirrithae, she who moves throughout. Kalaton, he who gazes beyond. Nerrothyll, she who rests within. Mullisvar, they who wait below. Together they created this world and even to this day they strive to maintain the delicate balance within it. By their grace we walk through their creation, you can figure out the rest I’m sure.” Oliver’s voice was conversational and sounded much more at ease.

Alter pondered for a moment. From Oliver’s reaction, the knowledge and, by extension, worship of these creator figures was to be expected. A single unified religion was a good sign in his opinion, it solidified the possibility that these powers may well exist in this world. Their existence would certainly help explain Oliver’s powers. Plus, the question of how he and the others had been transported here could easily be explained by divine intervention. This demanded further investigation.

“Why are the stars called Kalaton’s Tears? If you don’t mind me asking.” He spoke tentatively, aware that the question might raise further suspicion.

“As I mentioned, Kalaton is known as ‘He Who Watches Beyond’. He is the creator of the sky and father to all life, but despite that he is forever cursed to never set foot upon his shared construction. It is said that Kalaton wept in both awe at the beauty of the untouched world and in grief at his separation from it. In that moment, his left eye became the sun, and every tear that fell and touched the soil spawned the plants and animals. Us. Whereas his right eye became the moon, and its tears landed in the sky to become the stars. One star for every species of life in the world. To this day, Kalaton watches over us, his loving gaze enveloping us both day and night.” Oliver spoke without judgement of the question, eyes oriented upward as if to punctuate his words.

“Seems like a nice bloke.” Alter murmured.

“I’ve always found him a little unnerving.” Oliver admitted. “The thought of being watched all the time, even if it's by a divine being who can never reach you, has never sat well with me. I once spent a whole week hiding in my room as a child because I thought he was going to come down and eat me.” He laughed.

“And your ‘Soulkindler’ powers, are they associated with The Four?”

“Yes, though not with Kalaton. I am said to be blessed by Nerrothyll, she who rests within. The Soulgranter, without her we would be like mere beasts. Thoughts, emotions, destinies and powers like mine are all her domain. She is nurturing but wild and independant, some might even call her irresponsible as she plants the seeds of evil just as readily as good.” Oliver held a closed hand to his breast and closed his eyes, lips offering a silent prayer.

Through the corner of his eye, Alter could see faint blue light glowing through the gaps between Oliver’s fingers. The powers of Nerrothyll were powerful indeed but he got the sense that she wasn’t the one to have brought them here. Kalaton was a more likely bet all things considered. The fact that, allegedly, he couldn’t impact the world directly lends a little weight to the idea of sending them for a purpose. But their arrival felt too mundane, too random for some kind of divine intervention.

It was still too soon to start drawing conclusions on this topic and Alter was rapidly feeling the tiredness of the day seeping into his body. Oliver was more than happy to take the next watch alone but Alter disagreed, he would be much happier if someone with the combat alert ping was awake and ready. With a gentle shake of his shoulder he woke Boats from his slumber before seeking out his own bedroll. Shutting his eyes, Alter sought the comfortable emptiness of sleep. He wasn’t sure when it came from him but the next aware moment featured the orange glint of dawn sunshine and the sight of Riptide’s manic smile as he waved a full magazine in his face.

“Jackpot.” He reported happily.

Jackpot indeed.