Ryel' Hendulei was lost, floating in a world of ribbons, ribbons without end. They had no substance, no hue, no tangibility and yet they were all around her. Oh, if only she could see them with her eyes, she could imagine how beautiful the world would be. Instead, they lie just beyond her sight and danced beyond her grasp. But she knew they were there now that her senses had been awakened. Ever since she had won Lord Kindel's respect and become Favored, her world had been filled with wonder. How could she have lived life before this 'awakening'? She had been dead before, she just had not realized it. Her reverie was interrupted when something in the campfire suddenly snapped and she was abruptly pulled from her session. Agmar, Lord Kindel's stitan, tried to grab one of the burning logs.

“Agmar!” Ryel groaned, “No! Not again! Get! Get back! Back!” she picked the beater off the ground and struck the beast repeatedly over its crest. However, it looked at her blankly with its beady eyes, and ducked down to the fire to pick up a flaming tinder in its mouth. The log began to crack and hiss as Agmar chewed. Smoke puffed from the beast's nostrils while a shower of coals and embers tossed about in his mouth and tumbled down the sides of its cheeks. Grumbling, it finally backed up and lay on the ground with its smoldering “snack”. Ryel could see orange embers rolling around on its tongue as it chewed contently.

“Do you have an illness you masochistic reptile?!” Ryel fumed, “That's the third one you've eaten! What is the matter with you?!”

Agmar almost seemed to be smiling as he pinned the log between two of its massive claws and began to gnaw on the steaming kindling with his beak-like mouth. He was a ferocious-looking beast with a head shaped like a vertical scythe, backward-pointing horns protruding from below his mouth and above his sinuses. A series of smaller horns in pairs followed the curve of his spine before disappearing at the apex of his back. Looming like a small mountain in the night, the stitan looked ferocious. Once, Ryel had been terrified of tending the creature and not just because it was Lord Kindel's treasured pet. But she soon learned Agmar was just a big soft oaf.

Fuming but unable to hold her anger at the sight of the beast's antics, Ryel grabbed another log and tossed it onto the fire, waiting for some sign of the lord. He had gone into the forest several days ago to “prepare”. Prepare for what? The Feast? He had not given her any details as to what the purpose of his trek into the woods may have been, only that he would not return for a few days. His orders were to keep Agmar company and practice. And so, that was what she had been doing...practicing.

She was about to try again when there came a frantic scurrying as rodents and ground crawlers swarmed across the campsite. Ryel raised her eyebrows at the sight and stood up so they would not crawl across her lap. As the meadows came to life with the sound of frightened animals, a breeze teased the tops of the grass, the breeze of a forewind. Agmar chuffed nervously.

“Oh!” Ryel said with surprise as she watched a purple glimmer swimming out from the woods. “Black fog? I did not know this area had them.”

She stood up and walked over to the stitan's head, making sure not to step on the steaming “snack” he had been chewing. His breaths were filled with campfire smoke. Agmar chuffed again and stamped the ground nervously. Though there was a slight tremor in his hooves, he did not flee with the other animals. Ryel was very grateful for that, as she could not see herself chasing, much less catching and calming a terrified stitan.

“Shh....” she crooned, massaging him behind his spikes as Kindel showed her, “It will be okay.”

The fog soon caught up to the campsite and washed over them both, turning Ryel's world into a world of purple light and whispers. Black fog had never frightened her, even as a child. In fact she had not even known others were scared of it until she tried to bring her friends into it to hear the voices. She remembered trying to catch the people whom inhabited the mists, calling out to them, chasing them, and getting angry when they would not let her near. They were as graspless as the gaps themselves, evasive and mysterious. The black-purple miasma had always fascinated her with the secrets it hid. To others it was wrong, dangerous and deceptive. But to her, it always seemed playful and mischievous. Even the way streamers of mist danced and twirled at its perimeter had the feel of a performance. She even remember waving back to it as a kid.

Though she could not see the beast, she could still feel Agmar's breath upon her as she caressed him. She could hear nothing but her heartbeat and the visceral ebbing of the fog yet she knew Agmar clawed at the ground from the vibrations she felt in her feet. She knew he grumbled from the rumbling in her hands. In a way, her time in numerous clouds of the impenetrable black fog had prepared her for Kindel's tutelage, prepared her to expand her senses, to 'see' the gaps without sight. She could not see nor hear the fire crackle, but she felt its warmth. She could not see the grass in the fields, but she could smell it on the wind. She could not see the gaps...but she could feel them all around her. They were bending, bending away from her, leaning in to some unseen source. Ryel wanted to leave Agmar and chase after this source. Closing her eyes she 'looked' around without seeing and 'reached' with an arm she did not have. Wait...was she actually doing it? Yes...yes she was reaching toward one of the strands that bent away from her and she clasped her mind around it.

Very good, child.

Yelping with surprise, Ryel lost the link and returned to the seething of the black fog. Cursing with a voice nobody could hear, she kicked dirt and waited for the black fog to end. Soon enough, windows of the flickering campsite appeared as the fog thinned. Wispy windows into a world of black and purple dots slithered around her feet and away from her, disappearing into the night. She was always a little sad to see it go, as if it were an old distant friend that had stopped by to say “hello”.

“You see?” she rest her forehead against Agmar's crest, “That was not so bad you big goof.”

Agmar's response was to shove her aside and chuff. She leapt out of his way as he turned toward the woods bobbing his head. There, coming out from between the trees was a tall figure dressed in an armor of polished bone. The twin moons illuminated the white mask he wore upon his face, making it glow with luminescence. The red hood which shrouded it seemed to flow like velvet waves as he walked through the wind. The mask itself was a simple design. It was formed of a white porcelain and was oblong in shape. It bore seven holes, six of them were arranged in two vertical rows of three, each hole sporting a corona of red and gold. Then it had a larger hole for the mouth. Yet under the mask, Lord Kindel's features were further obscured by a layer of black fabric. Decorative feathers the color of flame wreathed his neck and shoulders. The seemed to glimmer in the moonlight as the breeze tickled them. Ryel always found something...magnetizing about the way the lords dressed. Though the materials would have been horrifying on anything else, they drew the eyes and invited them to explore the many organic intricacies and mysteries of their macabre attire. What should have been grotesque was instead...beautiful.

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As he approached, Ryel bowed her head respectfully. Agmar, seeing his master, did the opposite, he trampled right across the fire to greet Lord Kindel, dragging a line of shimmering coals into the grass. The Nikral reached his gloved hands to his pet and massaged its temples silently. Then he turned to Ryel.

“You have been practicing.” he thrummed. Ryel found it outrageous that so few people, when they spoke of their encounters with the Nikral lords, failed to mention the captivating beauty of their voices. When a Nikral spoke, its voice seemed to resonate through the air no matter where they were. They seemed to speak as a chorus rather than as an individual. Sometimes, she could feel their dialect thrumming against her chest, it was captivating. When they sang their peoples' songs, sometimes the air itself seemed to stop, listen, and weep. Ryel once worked up the courage to ask Kindel why the voices of his people sounded so unique. She expected him not to answer, thinking perhaps it was some sort of lore or knowledge that would be forbidden to her. But he did answer, and the answer was rather mundane: Nikral have two vocal chords instead of one.

“Uh...yes.” she said, “I have. I think...I made some sort of breakthrough when that black fog rolled in. Well...it may be a breakthrough it I could understand it.”

“Ah...” Lord Kindel sounded intrigued, “explain.”

“I am not sure I can, my lord.” Ryel said, “When I practiced, I could sense the gaps but I could never reach them. Something...something always distracted me.”

“Such as...” Lord Kindel asked.

“Agmar...” Ryel said honestly, “He kept eating the campfire.”

“'Eating'...the campfire?” There was an old adage stating that one could never make a Nikral laugh. It was a phrase that had proven quite accurate. However, Ryel had learned that the lords definitely had a sense of humor, it was simply more subtle than the humor of Kel and Lyosh. You had to look for the laughter in the tone of their words rather than in outright expressions of joviality. As Lord Kindel repeated her accusation against Agmar, she heard hints of amusement in his resonant voice.

“He kept grabbing logs from the fire and eating them.” Ryel said, “ I tried to stop him but...”

“It was either let him eat or get crushed.” Lord Kindel finished, “Feral stitans have been known to devour trees that have been scorched by lightning. Nobody knows why they do it, though some hypothesize that it aids digestion. Either way...Agmar will be fine.”

As if to underscore Lord Kindel's words, the massive beast began to lick at the remains of the campfire it had scattered among the grass, lapping up burning coals as if they were grains of sugar.

“What of your practice during the day?” Lord Kindel asked, “Surely you were not distracted then?”

“I was not.” Ryel said, “Though...I kept an eye out for your return, I was able to separate myself from my senses...mostly.”

“And what was it about the black fog that allowed your...success? And...why did you let go of the link?” Lord Kindel took a seat by the dying fire. Even sitting he still seemed tall, his head almost came up to her chin. His mask seemed to absorb the moonlight so that it could cast its own ambiance. Though she could not see his eyes behind to holes in the mask, she could feel his gaze upon her.

“I do not know, my lord.” she said, “I have not had enough time to analyze my experience. But perhaps it was because I...enjoy the black fogs.” she felt embarrassed at the admission but she continued, “When I am in their mists, I can hide from the world and hear nothing but their whispers. Perhaps...perhaps...I don't know.” she flustered, “I am sorry. As for letting go of the link...you startled me, I guess.”

Lord Kindel tilted his mask, “You enjoy the black fogs?” again, there was a hint of amusement to his voice. “You have more spine than half the continent. Regardless, perhaps you should try remembering how you feel when you are immersed in the phenomenon. That may very well be your catalyst. Regardless, this is a phenomenal achievement. We now know what your focus is.”

“Focus?” Ryel repeated, excitement filling her chest “Really?”

“You are a Listener.” he thrummed softly, “This will be of great value to us. So far, there are only five Kel listeners. You would be the sixth. If you are able to master the art of the Listening, you could travel to the opposite end of Iris and we would still be able to communicate with each other. There would be no need to send letters or carriages. I, or one of the other lords would make their will known through you. As my Favored, you already outrank any Kel, any Lyosh. But as a Listener...you would be treasured among us above even other Favoreds. I knew I had chosen well when I took you under my tutelage.”

Ryel did not know how to react to Lord Kindel's words. She found herself turning to stare at the grass so he would not see the tears forming at the corners of her eyes. Perhaps he knew she needed a moment alone because he got up. “I have not had food for several days.” he said, “When I am ready, I will summon you.” then he walked back to the carriage. The massive contraption was formed of polished bone tusks and raw obsidian that had been engraved and painted with his colors: White, gray, and red. He entered the door to his chamber and closed it behind him. Lantern light leaked around the door's seams but very little of it could be seen through the windows, which had several layers of curtains.

It was a strongly enforced law among the Nikral to hide their faces in public. The only time they were allowed to remove their masks or veils was when they either ate or drink or when they were with family in private. Very few people knew what the lords actually looked like under their porcelain faces. It was a tradition they held so dearly that they made it a crime to depict a lord's actual flesh and blood countenance. Ryel remembered the imaginative descriptions she and her brothers would come up with as kids as they guessed at what the Nikral hid. However, now that she was under the direct tutelage of a lord, she did not want to know what they looked like. No countenance could possibly match the charisma and mystique created by those porcelain disguises. Any reveal was bound to be...disappointing.

Ryel had to sit down before she collapsed. She knew she was being overly dramatic, but Lord Kindel's praise left her reeling. Higher than a Favored...she had no idea such a thing was possible for Kel. Of course she had been taught about the Listeners, a class formerly only available to the Nikral practitioners of gap magic. But she was one of the first...well, sixth, actually. But still, she was among the first Kel to attain such a role. No, she was getting ahead of herself. She was not a Listener yet, but she was certainly more than ever determined to become one. She wanted to hug somebody, but Lord Kindel was still eating and she was not sure how he would react to such a gesture anyway. So instead she went over to Agmar and hugged him.

Wait...what had Lord Kindel said when he left? He had not eaten for several days? Why? And if that was the case, why did he sound so calm when he returned? He should have been famished! But he is a master of the gaps, Ryel reminded herself. He knows how to separate himself from his bodily senses. Perhaps he had learned to hide outward signs of his hunger. Or perhaps he simply looked calm because his mask covered his expressions. But what had he been doing in those woods? I have to prepare myself. Practice. Keep Agmar company and await my return. After a while, Lord Kindel exited his chamber, donning his mask.

“You should sleep.” he said, “Early tomorrow morning, we will reach our destination. As we ride, I want you to continue practicing.”

Ryel gave a short bow and bid him a good night. Then she climbed into room he set aside for her. It had been designed for Nikral, so everything felt big to her. But such spaciousness also made her feel like royalty. She took off her shoes, climbed into the chair which doubled as a bed and closed her eyes. Her dreams were filled with violet whispers.