“It is time to wake up, my child…”
Eden awoke with a shock, and felt energy crackle within him as he bolted upright. He gave himself a moment for his eyes to adjust to the night, but found that even the light of the stars and moons was not present, wherever he was. In fact, Eden felt deprived of nearly all his senses; the man’s ears rang with the dull void of a space so empty and large that it would not return an echo, and his nose caught nothing in the air. After focusing for a moment and attuning to his surroundings, it occurred to Eden that wherever he was, it wasn’t on the bed he had fallen asleep on. His clothes weren’t wet, but the man sat in a shallow pool of water that spread out in all directions.
Far off in the distance, a bright bolt of lightning stretched from impossibly high up, with seemingly no point of origin, down to the water below. Light entered and left the space in a single instant, and Eden waited with baited breath to hear the thunder. As he tensed, he felt the water begin to stir, and like a violent tide pushing in towards the shore, a wave suddenly picked up and crashed into the sorcerer as the late thunder rolled through him.
Eden was sent flying back underwater, and found himself sinking deeper and deeper into the dark, despite standing in a shallow just moments before. Once the booming thunder started, it never stopped, leaving Eden’s ears ringing as he was tossed about.
“It is time, my child,” the voice repeated, a thunderous, heavenly chorus in the middle of Eden’s tumult. “I have raised you from the seas, and the skies are open for you to control.”
In an instant, the underwater current that Eden was tumbling through aimlessly disappeared, and he felt a wealth of power surge through him, as if all the flowing water was shoved into his body. Eden felt sick. Before he could gain his bearings, the blinding light of a fiery sun shone down on him, and an endless expanse of craggy, red-sand desert stretched out a mile below him. Stranded in midair, massive gale force winds took the place of the water’s current, and flung Eden around in random directions. His head pounded, and he felt just about ready to hurl.
“Take the reins, my Chosen… My Marked… Those with the privilege of power have a duty to take it.”
Eden gritted his teeth as he flew, and dared to open his mouth, managing to shout out a few words over the roaring wind. “I… I can’t! Who are you‽”
The booming, pervasive voice seemed to lack emotion up until that point, but Eden flinched as the godly command rang out, now a devastating shout that rocked the sands below. “There is NOTHING you cannot do! I am the sky and the earth, and the ice and fire that burn in all people. The power is YOURS to command. TAKE IT!”
Emotions welled up in Eden that he couldn’t place. Fear, anger, sorrow, hope; all wrapped up in the body that he could feel slowly cracking under the immense pressure. It was as if he was simultaneously in the process of imploding and exploding, which kept his body in a permanent, potent stasis. As he buckled under the pain from all sides, curling into a fetal position in the middle of this great dreamscape, Eden wished desperately to wake up, but couldn’t. Fine. I’ll do it. Slowly, Eden began the long process of managing his panicked breathing, an effort which took ten times as long as it should have, as every time he thought he was slowing down, the wind would pick up around him and steal the breath out of his chest. But in time, even though the pulsing never stopped, Eden could feel himself again. While the elements tossed him around like he was nothing compared to their awesome power, he was at least in control of his own body, what he understood was the smallest aspect of this world.
As Eden opened his eyes once more, he saw that in place of the burning sun was a sky full of deep gray clouds, ready to burst. As the power continued rumbling inside of him, Eden breathed in one last time through his nose before letting out the loudest shout he could. As he screamed, the man’s voice boomed even louder than the masculine voice that had been commanding him. Rain poured down from the sky and swept away the hot sands below until all Eden was left with was the clouds above. As the palette dulled, so too did the power coursing through his body. In the aftermath of it all, he could see bolts of electricity crackling in the clouds, hear the soft, comforting roars that followed them, and smell the bygone precipitation on the wind. Petrichor.
“Yes. She will show you the way, my spark. Go to her.”
With the scent of the rain filling his heart, any energy he once had completely and totally spent, Eden was lulled back to sleep by the sounds of thunder in the distance, calling out his name.
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“Change… You are going to change so many people’s lives…”
As Kishori delved deeper into slumber, and entered the realm of dreaming, she was met with the same image she had seen when she dozed off just before getting into town. She sat on a boulder in the middle of the rolling grain fields of the southern reaches of the Empire. It was just before twilight, and Nera graced the sky with pink and orange and red as she went about setting. It was overwhelmingly peaceful, and a warm, late-spring breeze wrapped around Kishori like an old, familiar quilt.
Far in the distance, the setting sun outlined thirteen silhouettes, each one a towering person whose details she couldn’t make out at a distance. When she tried to focus on just one at a time, they would come into full view, so that she could see only the one. They were still shaded and inscrutable, but Kishori understood easily that each one of them could stand alone, and would happily do so. But looking from where she was sitting, Ki felt much better when she took them all in at once, one big, happy family.
“It will be quite some time until you have all the answers, my changebringer. But you will learn precisely when you need to. I just know you’re going to do amazing things.”
The warm words filled Kishori’s heart with joy, and as she looked on at the statuesque figures in the middle distance, she could see two shining beacons of light on six of the figures, gleaming eyes that she now took to be her companions.
But she couldn’t help but frown when her own eyes weren’t colored in.
“It will take time, and courage. But all good things do. Be strong for us, won’t you?”
As Kishori looked up to the sky above, the full, stark violet disc of the smallest moon shone out, a guiding light. Io was nowhere near as bright as Ganymede or even Callisto, even in Kishori’s dreams, but nonetheless it called out to her. Gazing out at the lunar body, Ki pressed her hands together in prayer.
“Illuso, Champion of Illusions and Protection… Thank you for your gifts. Only show me what veils you would have me dispel, and I shall do as you instruct… And in my own time, I will be ready to lift my own.”
The sun dipped below the horizon, and quickly left the fields bathed in a beautiful, all-encompassing darkness. It felt safe, and it felt like home, and before long, the vision faded from the cleric’s mind in favor of something she did not have to actively participate in.
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Smoke. Rumbling. Cobblestone. Heat. Fire. Agony.
Abel awoke with a gasp in Cinthia’s home. Feeling the comforting, familiar texture of leather on his hands, the wizard allowed himself to feel at least a little safe. The memories of his last forty-eight hours had come rushing to his senses in quick succession, and even after waking up, Abel couldn’t shake the sense of dread that loomed over him.
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“Time,” he whispered to himself. “I will find you in time.”
He traced a sigil in the air, and whispered a soft incantation to produce a soft globule of light in the palm of his hand. Abel rummaged through his pockets to find the watch, and with his light, saw that the time was 4:54 in the morning. It is unlikely I will fall back asleep now… I may as well busy myself.
Abel took stock of the room, and saw Pax and Eden resting; he was thankful in retrospect that neither of them had woken up from the light, or the noise of him casting. Pax looked tranquil, no surprise there, but Eden’s bed sheets were tossed haphazardly around him. Abel assumed that he had been tossing and turning in his sleep, but at that moment he was sleeping like a baby, and snoring like an old man with sleep apnea. Without thinking about it too much, Abel collected his spellbook, watch, and burnt robes from the hook, and opened the door to head outside.
Ganymede was bright that evening, as it was just one night after the full moon, so there was plenty of light for even a human like him to see clearly as he walked through town. It occurred to Abel that he perhaps should have worn shoes, but after the first dozen steps out the door, it also occurred to him that he didn’t care. Bundled up under his arm was something he desperately needed to get rid of, and he felt like any prolonging of this sudden idea would cause unnecessary and unpleasant hesitation.
Abel walked for several minutes until he found the edge of town, and continued further until he was at least fifty paces from the nearest house. He tossed the old robes in a heap, and fell to his knees in front of them. “I am sorry, friends. Truly. In order to meet you in the future… I must commit this to my past.” With his hands clasped together, Abel began to spew forth a torrent of whispers and prayers to his friends. Nicolette. Aldrick. Rainier. Latimer. Marius. Margot… Absolon.
“And Lisette… I am so sorry we never got to have that conversation. I pray that someday that can change.”
Abel stayed quiet for a long time after finishing, so the man who had followed him there decided to speak up. “So, you couldn’t sleep either?”
Abel shot onto his feet and traced an evocation spell in the air as he turned to face the person, but let the energy fizzle out when he saw who was leaning against the closest building. Moonlight glinted off of the brooch on the man’s lapel, the familiar Eagleheart crest shining proudly in the night; a gryphon with talons raised and wings spread. “I take it you heard my ineffectual ramblings just now?”
“No, actually. Good eyes, not so much ears. And I wasn’t trying to listen in, by the way, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Elias took a few steps closer, clearly tired himself.
“Ah.”
“So are you? Okay, I mean?” Abel thought to respond, but couldn’t think of anything to say, so instead he shrugged. “Fair enough. What are you doing out here in the cold?”
The wizard looked back at the pile of clothes. “I am ridding myself of the articles of my past. Even if my past was only, eh, two days ago.” Elias nodded, and signaled for him to continue. With a sigh, Abel turned away from Elias, and traced his fingers through the air. As the glyph appeared, it shifted from Abel’s normal, lilac-colored arcana to a burning orange. “Yu.” A mote of flame appeared before Abel, and as the caster pushed his palm into the glyph in the air, the fire bolt shot out at the cloth, igniting it. The fire worked away at the robe slowly, so Abel retraced the same, simple spell in the air, and began to cast it over and over. “Yu. Yu. Yu.”
Elias looked on as the wizard carved away a small portion of grass, scalding the land. Whenever a spark leapt to spread the wealth of flame, Abel would twirl a finger, and bring its power back into the main flame so that it would not expand. Elias had watched mages work before, but thought Abel looked incredibly in control, more so than perhaps the average arcane caster. Magic was not widespread in this world, but Abel set about his task with such a sense of normalcy that Elias forgot about the rest of the world for a moment; it looked so easy, like such a non-event, and he thought that despite the warmth that even he felt from all that distance away, Abel looked… cold. Distant.
When no remnant of the cloth remained but the smell of it burning on the air, Abel snuffed out the flame with a calculated burst of frost. He turned back to Elias; the knight could see his icy-blue irises were wide and his pupils constricted, and his hands were shaking. Elias walked the rest of the way to Abel. “You feel any better, man?”
Abel shrugged again. “I do not know. Maybe. I certainly feel… more sure of my decision. I suppose there is not much else I can do, anyways.” Elias nodded, and placed a hand on Abel’s shoulder. There was a sense of familiarity there; Elias knew without having to ask that Abel was just as much a northerner as he was. There was a sense of quiet about the wizard, the kind of quiet that people have when monstrous expectations are placed upon them all their life. There’s no point in making fusses; either you live up to the ideas people have of you, or you don’t. He looked sort of detached from everything at that moment, a defense mechanism that Elias also used, perhaps more than he should.
“May I ask what you dreamt of?” Abel asked, taking his turn to break the silence. “Or were you unable to fall asleep at all?”
“No, the alcohol did put me to sleep pretty quickly. It’s a little fuzzy, but I had this dream that I returned to Highhaven, and my family’s home was totally empty. I’m the third cousin to leave home, and I fear that someday, no one will be left. I’m glad I left, but… There’s guilt there, I think. Like a familial duty. Do you have anything like that, Abel?”
“Not really. My parents are pretty simple people, so my fascination with the arcane was… a shock, to say the least. I don’t have any siblings, so they would be happy if I came home some day, but… until then, I will simply try to write as many letters as is safe. They seem okay with it.”
“Will you still be able to do that, with the people looking for your research and all?”
“Oh. Probably not… You know, they moved to the town where our tower was located. I only hope that they do not assume I am dead.”
Elias placed a hand on one of Abel’s shoulders. “Well, as you stated, you know my family and our… standings. Maybe if it’s safe, I can try to send them a message some time. Which speaking of, do you have a last name, Abel?”
Abel can’t help but laugh. “Yes, I have a surname. It is Comstock.”
Elias nodded. “I didn’t say it last night, but I’m looking forward to working with you. And here’s to hoping that this adventure brings us up north sooner than later.”
“Or to wherever our people happen to be,” Abel said with a smile.
The men eventually returned to their respective beds, but as they individually expected, neither of them fell back to sleep. When the sun eventually rose on the 15th of Taluum, Frerdas morning brought with it the promise of journey. As people woke, and Cinthia worked on breakfast, Abel could feel energy return to all of his new peers, as the injuries they had sustained were, for the most part, nothing but bruises at that point. Even Wren, the mysterious, quiet, supposed leader of this troupe was happy and talkative. It was the first time that Abel, and he suspected most of them, were actually able to get to know the man.
Wren called himself a ‘slayer’, and seemed enormously capable to them all. He looked to be around sixty, but despite the creases always affixed under his eyes, or perhaps because of that age, Wren was immensely aware of his surroundings, measured in all his movements, and confident but not overstated. He had steely blue eyes, salt-and-pepper hair that he slicked back into his widow’s peak, and angular features that left him looking relatively wiry despite his musculature. Wren’s clothes were simple, and didn’t appear suitable for combat, but nevertheless his weapons all looked well-used. Wren always kept on him two short blades that were sheathed by the small of his back, a spear, and a sturdy bow slung over his shoulder, and on his hip he wore a quiver of arrows, many of which had odd-colored feathers on the end.
After breakfast, Duncan began gathering his things from around the house and bringing supplies back to their carriage. It was clear that he was getting ready to leave, but it didn’t seem to the rest of them that Wren was preparing to go with him.
“Hey Duncan,” Kishori spoke up on the dwarf’s third time in and out of the house. “Are you leaving or something?”
Duncan looked to Wren with a huff. “Your plan, boss. Why don’t you tell ‘em?” As Duncan exited again, all of the younger people looked to Wren.
“Alright, before I say this, don’t try and argue, because it’s not gonna work. But Marseillan’s wing isn’t able to be healed, by Cinthia or Duncan. Neither of them really understand her anatomy, so Duncan’s gonna ride back up north with her to meet up with a friend of mine who can help. We’ll link back up with the two of them eventually, but since we’re heading south, it doesn’t make sense for us to waste nearly three weeks of travel for us all to go to the capital.”
“Seems like a shitty reason to keep us from talking to her,” Seneca said.
“I never said that’s why I did that,” Wren said matter-of-factly. “Would you have preferred I ushered half a dozen people into a tiny room where she already feels trapped, and told her you were her new best friends?”
Pax’s brow furrowed. “We don’t have to go south, right? We could go with them.”
“Actually as it turns out, we do have something we need to do, and it’s time sensitive. And we’re not about to keep her caged for the next month, so it’s two groups.”
The group sat with this knowledge for a while. None of them knew the girl, or had even seen her since the night she fell, but it felt wrong to suddenly leave her like that.
After mulling over Wren’s words, Eden eventually spoke up. “Well, can we see her at least, before they go?”
Finally, Wren smiled again, and got up to open the door to the master bedroom. “I’ve been told to let you in once you know what’s going on, and only so long as you don’t all speak at once. So knock yourselves out.”
After Wren opened the door, the six young heroes piled into the room, and distinctly did not listen to Wren’s advice about taking turns to ask questions.