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The tent sat in the shadow of the grand bazaar’s towering silk walls, a mere sliver of space in the forgotten alleys. Candlelight flickered within, casting dancing shadows across tapestry-lined walls. At the sharp snap of fingers, a voice heavy with the weight of foreseen fates commanded, “Enter, but bring none of your shadows with you.”
Aeliana shifted back on this one’s cushion as the tent flap rustled. A figure cloaked in a sand-colored robe, their face hidden by a shadowy hood, slipped into the dimly lit space.
“White Eyes, I need your insight,” The figure began, his voice rough like gravel.
“Sit.” Aelaina commanded, gesturing to the cushion opposite. As the figure seated himself, Aeliana placed a teapot and a broad, shallow bowl on the table with practiced ease.
“The tea has cooled,” Aeliana announced, pouring the liquid into the bowl. “Betrayal looms over you, hunter. But,” this one’s voice faltered as the stream of tea stuttered, “Great upheaval lies ahead. Your involvement is more significant than you imagined.”
The man trembled. “But I’ve done nothing wrong.” He cried out, “I only wished to provide for my family, not entangle myself in… in… plots!”
Aeliana raised a hand, silencing him. “The spirits count each word, choose them carefully.” This one warned, gaze fixed on the tea.
“Is there no path forward for me?” He pleaded, his hands – pale green and clawed – clasped before him.
“Your foes may be nearer than you think,” Aeliana whispered, eyes narrowing as this one shifted to the crystal orb to the side. “Seek sanctuary beneath the yellow cloth.”
The man sagged, despair wafting off of him. Aeliana took pity, “Go to the cleaners. They may offer you a chance to free yourself of these dangers.”
“Thank you, White Eyes, thank you! May fortune,” The candles snuffed out. “Revorto a ti!” The man stood abruptly, not even realizing his words had reverted to his own tongue. He offered his token. Aeliana tapped this one’s token against it, nodding once. He hurried from the tent.
Aeliana sighed heavily and rose. Rashani would soon arrive to clean. With a wave of the hand, the tent flap was brushed aside, and this one stepped into the narrow alley, its path winding like a river through dunes.
Aeliana had resisted following Gage to the healer’s hut that morning, heeding the omens instead. While safe for now, Aeliana felt the subtle shift in the breeze as this one emerged into the main alley. This one noticed, without looking, the kumdahari elf disguised in ‘alajin robes’ at a nearby stall. If only they knew.
With each calculated step through the alleys, Aeliana moved closer to that moment. Another gust of wind, another turn away from those who were waiting. This one relished the anticipation.
The alleys opened into a quiet intersection. Suddenly, two kumdahari blocked this one’s path, with six others surrounding Aeliana. Memories of past confrontations flooded back. Aeliana smiled.
For a long moment, no one moved. Then, one kumdahari stepped forward – a mistake. Aeliana’s robes fluttered, then, with majestic grace, they unfurled to reveal this one’s wings, displaying eye-like patterns of blues and browns that captivated this one’s would-be attackers.
With a deep inhalation, Aeliana unleashed this one’s power. The kumdahari became gripped with panic. Each of them turned and fled into the sand-filled alleys, leaving Aeliana alone with the wind’s fading whispers. This one took a moment to flex this one’s wings before, with a sigh, they were brought back in and wrapped around Aeliana. With this one’s ‘robes’ back in place, this one continued this one’s way back to the family tent.
…
“Both of them are really alright? Keme is all healed and I didn’t, I don’t know, ‘tie their fates’ together or something?” Gage was pacing the healer’s hut, wringing his hands together.
“I swear, I never tested my teachers as much as this.” Hye-jun snapped, clapping her hands together. “Give me the strength to deal with this… this boy! Oh, great ANYONE!”
Gage came to a stop and stared at his teacher, dumbfounded. “I’m not… that bad. Am I?”
“Child, if anything as severe as that had occurred from your healing, I would not have let either of them leave this tent until it was resolved.” She walked over and placed a hand on Gage’s shoulder. “Keme lives and will continue to do so, as long as he listens to the instructions I gave him. What you did put everything back together.”
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Hye-jun stepped back from Gage and continued her work of grinding ink. Gage was tempted to start pacing again, instead he stopped to watch her work. Hye-jun continued, “The flesh and internal structures are weak and soft. Like a baby tends to be. What you did saved his life, but neither you nor his body had the strength to return everything back to how things were before the wound occurred.”
Gage watched silently as she worked, mixing dried ink with different powders, shavings, and the occasional few drops of liquid. Hye-jun did not stop working as she spoke. “Since it is in his core area and there were some major vessels affected, he will have to take it significantly easier. It won’t kill him to do some hard work, but if he pushes himself too hard then he could potentially cause himself some future issues. For now, he is fine.”
He took in a deep breath, in an attempt to mellow himself. Gage decided to change the topic. “Alright then, Daja Hye-jun. What are you doing?”
She glanced at him, then went back to her work. “I am preparing my inks. For my spell papers. I do most of my spellwork through talismans, cloth or paper, and for that I need specialized inks. Ones that can hold the power I put into them to do their work.”
“Like a prepared spell?”
“Exactly.” Hye-jun nodded in approval of Gage’s question. “Munshin magic is steeped in tradition. We can perform magic as others do, by forming and powering the spell but… it is wasteful for us. Instead, we usually have a wide variety of spell papers available, taking or making specific ones beforehand for a given task. This is a very brief overview of our magical traditions, but it is the simplest explanation I can perform for it at the moment.”
Gage nodded along. “Okay. That sounds pretty interesting actually. Can I learn?”
She appraised him a moment before responding. “Perhaps one day. For now, I want you to get some better control over your Breath. I do not know if you noticed, but you seem to have started to please your god.”
He cocked his head, “What do you mean?”
“Gage, did you notice anything… unusual about your Breath while you were healing Keme?”
Gage thought long and hard, his head tilting backwards as he closed his eyes. “Actually, yeah. My Breath is normally a pink color, like my hair. This time there was some green mixed in as well?”
Hye-jun nodded. “That would be the Path of the Soul, or at least the beginnings of it. What you saw was Kin’s Nimbus. The gods’ version of Breath, if you recall our previous talk on the subject. On this path, the god infuses your Breath and bolsters it with their Nimbus. It gives you some more strength and power than you would normally have on your own.”
Gage stayed quiet for a long time, before deciding to take a little risk. “So, my world had stories about many gods throughout history. Some of those stories were about demi-gods, or half-gods? The children of a god and a mortal. They tended to be better than mortals but lesser than gods.”
“You are wondering if they were just powerful devoted? Or perhaps a mortal born with nimbus?” Hye-jun offered. Gage nodded and stayed quiet. “It is hard to stay. Myths and legends, mixed with history, can get messy to decipher. It honestly could have been any combination. The danger being that a mortal body is usually not made to hold onto Nimbus. Those who walk the Path of Soul temper their bodies a little at a time to hold a small fraction of their god’s power. It is by far, the hardest path to survive and grow in.”
Gage nodded slowly. “Thank you.”
Hye-jun just nodded and pointed to an ink stick. “If you are going to be here, make yourself useful. Grind that down for me.”
With a grin, “Yes, Daja Hye-jun.”
...
The sun was so very nice and warm this morning. Cresting over the dunes, much in the same way it had crested over the waves back home. This was a much drier environment than she was used to, but it was still very pleasant. She was quite pleased that she had been gifted with one of the tents at the edge of the settlement. Sure, it was further away from some of the nicer amenities, but the morning sun was worth the extra time.
Sah’ta continued her morning routine and stepped through the slit she had crafted through the back of her tent. With the sunup, the hunting parties had already left and most of her neighbors would be heading deeper into the shade of the settlement. That gave her the freedom to step out into the sun. Carefully she folded her clothes and set them aside, revealing her brightly colored scales.
Her sun warmed stomach scales fading to a deep rich tree needle along her back. With a pleased sigh, she knelt down into the sun warmed sand. Taking a handful at a time, she began to scrub her scales. Using the sand helped to warm and wake her after the cool night. The grit scoured the peeling and dry flakes from her scales. She was careful around her eyes and nose, then turned her attention to her horns.
She had such a grand pair of horns. They curved back over her head in a great arc to have the points turn up at just about her chin. Sah’ta took such loving good care of her horns. Finally scrubbed clean she stood and donned her clothing once more. As she did, she saw something that had not been there before. Standing on top one of the dunes was a figure, in strange clothing. He had the dark sap of a kumdahari, but instead of their night sky hair, it was that of tree bark.
Despite standing in the sun’s light, Sah’ta felt cold. Without acknowledging, she turned and slipped back into her tent, making sure to lace the opening shut. In the safety of her own home, she pushed the cold from her mind and went about her day.
Sah’ta picked up a cup of broth and walked it over to the small shrine set against the wall. She knelt down before it and held the cup in both hands. “May this prayer find you warm and your gardens bountiful. May your sun always shine bright. I thank you for this refuge, for this salvation, this home. Kin, healer and protector, may the stars guide you to the family I have lost. Watch over them until we may be reunited.”
Sah’ta felt cold again and stopped. Looking over both shoulders, the tent was empty. She turned back to the shrine. As she opened her mouth to speak once more, a squeak escaped her. The sand on which she knelt shifted. Moments later, like a pond with a stone dropped into it, the sand rippled and the tent, empty.
…
Perhaps he had overdone it. Perhaps. He had stood with the rising sun. The desert sun. She worshipped the sun. The sun he granted her. That he granted to all of them. It was his warmth she revered. It was his sands she used to clean herself.
And she had the nerve to thank that… that insolence! Well. Then the sands can have her.