Three days later...
In the waning light of the afternoon, as the last of the funeral rites ebbed away like the tide retreating from the shore, Ebonheim found herself drawn to the newly turned earth of the graves. With a heavy heart, she gazed at each name engraved upon the markers and tablets placed by the graveside. She recognized them—their faces and their voices clear to her recollection. Tears pricked the corner of her eyes, yet she withheld her sorrow.
Although she wished to mourn—she couldn't help but feel she had failed them. Their lives cut short, and all because she hadn't been present to protect them. Their blood stained her hands as much as those who had carried out the deed.
Ebonheim and the others' return home should have been a joyous occasion. The expedition to create the road connecting to the eastern entrance to the Eldergrove forest had succeeded—they had even established friendly relations with harpies along the way. It should have been a perfect reason to celebrate.
Instead—Ebonheim returned to a somber scene. Her domain—her people—had been attacked while she'd been absent. Although they had managed to defeat the brigands, she grieved the loss of thirteen precious lives. They were people who had lived and laughed with her since they came to this town.
Yet now...they were gone forever. She could not revive them. She could not turn back time.
Hrafnsteinn warriors...Silverguard Company soldiers... Although it had only been a short while since their arrival, these brave people had taken up arms—risking themselves—to defend their new home. A home that was not theirs by birth...but still one they fought to protect. That gesture touched her heart.
If only she had foreseen this coming...
Why didn't she sense the danger?
The Akashic System should have given her some idea that something was coming—a message or warning of some kind. It had done so in the past. Whenever an incident occurred within her domain or one of its inhabitants faced imminent danger—she would receive some forewarning and a quest that allowed her to intervene and mitigate the threat.
That had always been the case... so why not this time? Why wasn't there anything for this? The Akashic System did nothing. Absolutely nothing. Why?!
All she wanted now...was to understand what happened and why. But no amount of reflection brought answers. Her thoughts spiraled, repeating themselves—like the droning buzzing of insects in the summer heat.
Ebonheim squeezed her eyes shut against the rising tide of emotion threatening to burst forth. No tears would fall, but her chest heaved with suppressed sadness. Even her shoulders trembled from the effort.
She hunched over herself—grasping at her head as if to stem the torrent of sorrow building inside. But before Ebonheim could crumble upon herself, she felt a presence draw near.
Serrandyl stood beside her and placed a gentle hand on Ebonheim's shoulder. Her touch helped quell the sorrow—the familiarity of Serrandyl's presence providing a small measure of comfort. The Aslankoyash woman said nothing but maintained a reassuring grip as they shared the silence.
Eventually, Serrandyl broke the hush that fell between them.
"I know what you're thinking. There's no use beating yourself up over this. Grieve and move on," she stated. "That's the only thing you can do. No one expects you to always come to our rescue and save the day. We're also responsible for protecting ourselves."
Serrandyl withdrew her hand and leaned forward—fixing Ebonheim with a level gaze. "It was bad luck and bad timing. It couldn't be helped. But you should be proud of us more than anything else. We won against two hundred brigands—and they weren't pushovers. Everyone worked together to repel them. If that's not reason to be happy for us—then I don't know what is."
"But..." Ebonheim protested. "If only I'd known what was going to happen...then perhaps I could have..."
"If only doesn't cut it," Serrandyl interjected. "I said we're responsible for protecting ourselves. Besides..." She slapped Ebonheim in the back hard enough to elicit a startled yelp. "...you should give yourself more credit. It's not like you to act so pathetic." Serrandyl grinned, her pearly fangs glinting in the evening light.
"Well..." Ebonheim started. "If you put it that way, then..."
"Exactly," Serrandyl agreed. She made a beckoning gesture. "I remember you spent days standing over the gravestones of those who died in that elemental conflux. So... Come. Don't dwell here any longer. There are others who need to see their goddess's smiling face right now." She offered her hand to Ebonheim. "Because your smile cheers us."
Ebonheim hesitated but reached for her offered hand. In a strong and quick gesture, Serrandyl pulled Ebonheim to her feet—bringing her close in a one-armed embrace.
Serrandyl smiled. "There, better?" she asked. "That's what I like to see."
"Heh... Well... maybe just a little bit," Ebonheim replied—allowing the corners of her lips to twitch in the faintest semblance of a smile. "Though I'll probably cry a little later, so... I might end up ruining everyone's mood again." She let out a meek sigh. "But...thank you. Your words helped."
"I'm glad to have helped. Now...we've got people waiting for us." Serrandyl retracted her arm and began to walk—gesturing for Ebonheim to follow.
Along the way, Bjorn and Hilda approached to walk beside them. The old druid wrapped an arm around Ebonheim's shoulders and brought her in a light embrace. Her gesture conveyed no words—yet a soft hum emanated from her as she sang a low dirge—muttering in the tongues of nature and the fey. It was a melody without lyrics or defined rhythm—yet there was comfort and solace.
Ebonheim soon found her mind calmed by the slow, repetitive sounds.
After a short time had passed, Bjorn spoke.
"Ebonheim," he started. "Our warriors fought well. Though some fell in battle...we protected the people and town we call home. Don't carry their burden. We, their brothers and sisters, carry their legacy forward." He locked his gaze with hers. "With honor and pride. All of us. We will hold our heads high with this accomplishment. It was through all our efforts that we prevailed. A settlement bears the marks of its battles and wounds, but each scar becomes a testament to their struggles and achievements. Let the events of today strengthen our resolve...for those who still draw breath."
He went to pat Ebonheim's head, his hand making a playful smack upon her forehead. "Raise your head. Lift your chin. There's no reason to fret anymore." His bright eyes gazed skyward. "Let the sun warm our faces, the earth bear our roots, and the wind carry our songs."
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Ebonheim could not hold her sorrow any longer. A single teardrop slid from the corner of her eye—barely noticeable under the gathering dusk.
She allowed a weak smile. "I'm supposed to be your goddess, you know? I'm the one who's supposed to console and inspire you...but here you all are. Talking and consoling me." She allowed a faint laugh—the mirth leaving as soon as she exhaled. "Why...?" She brushed the offending tear away. "Why...?" She muttered once more.
"Because we're your people," Hilda answered. "We share joys and sorrows as one." The druid embraced her in a full hug. "Come now... you're going to cry no matter what we say or do...so go ahead and get it over with."
And Ebonheim did. Her emotions spilled over—their flow unabated—tumbling in an uncontrollable torrent. She sobbed onto Hilda's shoulder—unleashing the tide of pent-up anguish and regret. She cried.
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As the sun descended beyond the distant horizon and the evening sky faded from fiery oranges into its dark purple-indigo hue, Ebonheim made her way towards the town square.
The meeting with the elders and the leaders of the major groups had concluded not too long ago. They spoke at length about what transpired and what measures they would put in place for future attacks. Overall, they had achieved a consensus and began preparing plans and directing resources toward addressing the remaining issues.
Throughout their entire discussion, Ebonheim remained silent and attentive to every word, shifting her gaze between each speaker, listening to all points of view before addressing the room. No one berated her or sought to chastise her. No one even hinted at her being to blame. A single incident in which thirteen people had perished during the raid and the town remained relatively unscathed was considered a success—albeit not the most preferred outcome.
Following the meeting, Ebonheim meandered around the town to assess the remaining issues and lend assistance where she could. Everyone received her warmly. Whether by a small touch upon the arm or a casual pat on the shoulder. Almost every conversation ended with her parting with an encouraging word or phrase. They cared more about her feelings than anything else—or at least that's how Ebonheim perceived their demeanor.
She knew everyone was trying their best to make her feel better, but at the same time, she sensed they weren't just acting for her sake—but for their own. By spending time with her, the townsfolk were able to continue with their tasks and work with relative peace of mind. She didn't mind it; on the contrary, Ebonheim found the effort endearing. It was these interactions and this sense of belonging—the willingness of everyone to pitch in and lend a hand—that invigorated and lifted her spirits.
All of which brought Ebonheim to the central square of town.
Lamps and lights illuminated the surroundings, making it bright enough to seem as if the night had not yet fallen. People had gathered for the public banquet arranged for their returning expeditioners. As was customary during their past successes—an important event was typically held following their safe return.
Tables had been set up at various points to make room for people to move and mingle—their laughter and lighthearted atmosphere reflecting the joy at having achieved this milestone. And while their fun had been dampened by the funerals they'd recently conducted, their optimism and hardiness were evident.
Among the crowd, Ebonheim's eyes fell upon a familiar face.
Calyxia stood a short distance away, near the periphery of the gathering. The Lord of the South kept an observant gaze across the throng as if she guarded Ebonheim's subjects against a non-existent enemy. Calyxia noticed Ebonheim staring and dipped her head in greeting.
Ebonheim waved.
Next to Calyxia was a figure she had never seen before. Long raven hair spilled over his broad shoulders, contrasting his pale, almost alabaster-like skin. He wore a long, flowing tunic embroidered with runic symbols and lined with intricate gold patterns. His features were sharp and refined—a strange and otherworldly beauty to him.
The gaze he leveled towards the crowd was serene yet cold. She had the distinct feeling that he wasn't quite comfortable in this place or among her people. However, when he shifted his eyes towards her...his expression softened. His piercing azure eyes sparkled with interest, and his mouth pulled into a half-smile.
Something about him seemed familiar—a kindred spirit perhaps. She couldn't quite put a finger on it.
As she made her way towards him and Calyxia, Ebonheim noted his physique—muscular and trim—his stance, regal and commanding. Thin fissures and cracks along his skin glowed faintly in the evening light. A strange phenomenon.
"Ebonheim," Calyxia called out as she drew close. "We've waited until you've concluded your business. We came to visit, though...I never thought the occasion would take this form."
"Hey," Ebonheim greeted in return. "Yeah...about that..." She shifted her attention to the unknown figure. "Who's your friend?"
The strange figure responded to Ebonheim's inquiry—his voice measured and smooth. "It's been a while since we first met, Ebonheim. I am Kelzryn, the one you saved in the aftermath of the Kungwan conflict." He offered a small bow. "Thank you again."
The gears in her memory ground to life.
Kelzryn...the Kungwan war...over a year ago...she helped free a dragon from an ancient magitech contraption that siphoned his power. The act nearly killed her—well, it actually did, but she revived.
Wait...Kelzryn was supposed to be a colossal dragon. So how could this regal yet normal-sized humanoid be him?
Ebonheim tilted her head in puzzlement. "What? Really? Wow..." Her eyebrows creased into a frown. "You don't...look anything like what I last remembered you as. Can you change forms?"
"Ah...yes..." Kelzryn answered—his countenance almost sheepish. "I can change between my human form and my dragon form as I desire."
"Neat," Ebonheim said.
Wait...neat? Right now, there was a dragon who could annihilate her and everything around her in the blink of an eye—and all she could say was 'neat'?
She made a clumsy attempt at a friendly smile while bowing in curtsy. "I-I mean... Welcome, Lord Kelzryn! We thank you for coming!" Her words came out awkward and unnatural—a faint stammer accompanied each sentence. "Might I inquire as to w-why you're here?" She steadied her voice.
Ebonheim caught Calyxia trying to muffle a chuckle and sent her a sideways glare.
"There's no need to be so formal," Kelzryn remarked, shaking his head. He folded his arms—the fabric of his clothes shifting to accommodate the gesture. "I can only express my sincerest regrets for failing to prevent your home's destruction. Although I'd come to your town on a whim, my inaction in this incident leads me to conclude I'd done nothing worthy of recognition."
Huh? Failing to prevent my home's destruction? What did he mean by that? The town didn't get destroyed. Everyone's safe...aren't they?
Calyxia piped up before Ebonheim could even speak. "We decided not to intervene in this skirmish. Humans warring against each other should remain their affair. However," Calyxia shot Kelzryn a pointed look. "Kelzryn intervened at the last moment to save one of your subjects."
"He did?" Ebonheim blurted, her eyes widening.
Kelzryn averted his gaze. "Although...I took unnecessary measures...it should have been...wrong to remain indifferent and ignore such blatant hostilities. Thus...I thought I must take action and attempted to lend my assistance," he explained—his voice carrying hints of discomfort. "In my fervor, however...I ended up doing too much and resulted in further chaos."
Ebonheim directed her questioning stare to Calyxia, seeking further clarity. The lamia-gorgon spirit merely offered an approving nod. Ebonheim shifted her gaze back to the dragon and repeated her query with a tilt of her head.
"Uh...can you clarify, please? What did you do that's too much? How did you get involved?"
"It'd be best to show you," Calyxia explained, chuckling softly.
Kelzryn led the way, with Ebonheim following and Calyxia bringing up the rear. They trekked along the familiar path towards—oh no, something happened to her cottage...
The burnt and scorched ruins of Ebonheim's once beloved dwelling greeted her as they turned a corner. All that remained were piles of smoldering ash, wood planks, and unrecognizable debris. The once vibrant garden nearby now lay blackened and shriveled.
Ebonheim's heart dropped—her jaw slackened and eyes bulging. "Uhhhhhhhhhh?" She made a gurgling sound—half a shriek, half a wheeze—as she fell to her knees.
This was the second time now.
Well...at least it was only her cottage that got destroyed and no one else's.
...right?
Kelzryn provided a quick explanation. "In my attempt to save the one named Evelyne, I deflected an attack that struck and obliterated your abode."
"Ohhhhhh no..." Ebonheim droned. Her voice rose to an indignant squawk. "Are you...kidding me?!"