Chapter 2

Cythil, The Rogue

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Following this dragon-like creature, I kept my bow close to my body, ready to be let go at any time. A huntress like myself knew better than ever, letting my guard down. Granted, I connected with nature; most of the nature here was frozen or looking for food, just like my tribe and I were. The creature didn’t seem hurt, but it was also an extraordinary area for this creature to be. Never have I seen a Kirin, especially one as dark and magnificent as this beast.

Numerous reports of Frost Wraiths and Winter Wolves prowling the Frozen Wastelands had reached us. These spectral beings and cunning predators were a constant threat, their presence a grim reminder of our perilous world. Every so often, an Ice Giant would traverse the land, its colossal footsteps sending tremors through the ground and forcing us to take cover lest we be crushed beneath its immense weight. These behemoths were almost as rare as the elusive Ice Drakes that soared across the sky once a moon, their frosty scales shimmering in the pale light.

But never a Kirin.

This creature was magnificent, an embodiment of the night itself. It moved with ethereal grace, slipping through the shadows as if it were part of them, disappearing and reappearing with a fluidity that defied belief. It wasn’t just moving through the shadows—it was the shadow. Its midnight blue scales glimmered with an otherworldly glow, and its piercing violet eyes seemed to hold the secrets of the Wastelands within them. The darkness bowed to its presence as it roamed, enveloping it in a shroud of mystery and power.

“Do you speak?” I asked the creature gently, following it through the frozen trees and bushes. The air was thick with the crisp scent of snow, and the ground crunched beneath my boots with each careful step.

He glanced over his shoulder, his purple eyes locking with mine for a moment, their depths shimmering with an ancient wisdom. A gentle snort escaped his nostrils; the sound was soft and almost musical against the backdrop of the silent wilderness.

“I take that as a no,” I murmured gently, more to myself than to the enigmatic being before me.

The Kirin stood motionless at the ravine's edge, its glowing eyes fixed on something hidden within the shadows. I hesitated for a moment, sensing an unspoken invitation. With cautious steps, I moved closer to the creature, my breath forming small clouds in the frigid air.

As I approached, the Kirin began to move again, its ethereal form gliding effortlessly over the icy terrain. I followed, my curiosity piqued and my senses alert. We navigated through a dense thicket of frozen trees and bushes, their branches heavy with frost. The landscape seemed to shift around us as if the creature’s presence altered the very fabric of the world.

Finally, we emerged into a small clearing, where the pale light of the Wastelands revealed a figure slumped against a snow-covered boulder. The figure was an elven man, his black hair disheveled and his silver eyes dulled with exhaustion. He had very little facial hair, just a hint of a five o’clock shadow, giving him a rugged, worn-out appearance. His clothes were tattered, and he looked like he had been through a great ordeal.

I hurried to his side, my instincts as a huntress urging me to offer aid. “Are you alright?” I asked, kneeling beside him and examining his apparent injuries. His breaths were shallow, his skin pale against the stark white of the snow.

The elven man’s eyes flickered open, and for a moment, they locked with mine, a fleeting look of vulnerability passing over his face. “Help…” he whispered, his voice weak and strained.

Behind me, I heard Astra snort and stomp the ground, her hooves striking the icy earth with a soft thud. She fluffed her wings out, the iridescent feathers catching the faint light and shimmering like a veil of stars. Astra’s gaze was fixed on the elven man, her eyes filled with concern and suspicion.

“Astra, stop,” I murmured, gently brushing her wing aside as I pulled some bandages from my bags. My instincts as a huntress urged me to be wary, but seeing the elven man’s apparent distress compelled me to offer aid. I gazed around the area to see what could have happened to this man.

Kneeling beside him, I began to examine his injuries more closely. His clothes were torn, and his skin bore faint traces of bruises and cuts. Yet, something about his condition didn’t quite add up. The wounds seemed superficial, almost staged, and his eyes held a glint of awareness that belied his feigned helplessness.

I gazed at the man, his black hair falling over his closed eyes as I attempted to wrap a bandage around his arm. "Who are you?" I demanded.

“I can’t tell if you’re a healer, an enchantress, or a huntress,” the elven man replied, his silver eyes glinting as he offered a charming smile, his voice carrying a playful lilt. “I must say, it’s not every day a rogue like myself comes across such a striking huntress. I applaud your healing skills, milady.”

When his silvery eyes opened, I dropped his head, which landed with a soft thud on the snowy ground. "Vreselari," I growled, my gaze locking with his. "What the hell are you doing in my land?" I demanded, immediately pulling my bow back out and aiming it at him, an arrow ready to fly at the flick of a finger.

His smile didn't waver, though the playful glint in his eyes grew sharper. "Easy there, huntress," he said, raising his hands slightly in surrender. "I'm not here to cause trouble. My name is Cythil."

I didn't lower my bow. "Then why are you here? Vreselari doesn't wander into the wastelands for no reason."

He sighed, his expression turning more serious. "I'm looking for something—someone. It’s a matter of great importance, and I had no choice but to cross into your territory."

"You're just wandering here aimlessly? Do you know how dangerous that is?"

With a gentle yet deliberate motion, Cythil tapped the blade of the arrow poised to strike, nudging it away from his face with a faint smirk. "Considering I ran into you, perhaps I'm not in such grave danger after all," he remarked, his tone laced with a teasing confidence.

I narrowed my eyes, not amused by his bravado. In a swift, fluid motion, I released a warning shot, the arrow whistling through the cold air to embed itself in the ground mere inches from his head. The snow around it puffed up gently from the impact. "Watch yourself," I growled, my voice low and edged with warning.

Cythil's expression shifted, his silver eyes widening in surprise before settling into a look of newfound respect. He remained still, acknowledging the precision and intent behind my shot. "Point taken, huntress," he said, his voice tinged with caution. "However, I'm not here to play games."

"Neither am I," I responded, lowering my bow slightly as I straightened up and stood tall over him. "So what are you really doing here?" I demanded, my tone firm.

"You could put your bow down and let me speak," he replied with a soft chuckle, attempting to diffuse the tension.

"No," I replied gruffly, my eyes never leaving his.

Cythil raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. "What if I said please?" he asked, his tone almost playful.

Without hesitation, I raised my bow again and released another warning shot. The arrow flew past his ear, embedding itself in the tree trunk behind him with a solid thud. I gave him a cold glare, my voice icy. "No."

Cythil's smirk faded, replaced by a severe expression. He realized I wasn't one to be trifled with. "Alright," he said, his tone devoid of humor. "I'll speak, but I hope you'll listen."

I kept my bow trained on him, my eyes narrowing as a cold breeze rippled. "Get on with it."

He deeply breathed, "I'm just on a simple quest to earn some Aurum. Nothing more, nothing less."

I frowned, keeping my bow steady, "Aurum. You seriously came down from the Isles to the Wastelands for Gold?"

"Not just any gold--"

"I know what Aurum is used for in Vreselari," I interrupted sharply. "I'm not stupid."

Cythil nodded, acknowledging my irritation. "Then you understand the urgency. Debts must be paid, and Aurum is the only way. I'm not here to cause trouble, just to earn enough to settle what I owe."

I scrutinized him closely, searching for any sign of deceit. His eyes held a sincerity that was hard to ignore. "And you think you can just waltz into my territory and start collecting Aurum without any consequences?"

"I'm willing to face the dangers of the Wastelands," he replied earnestly. "But I have no intention of disturbing your land or your people. If you let me continue, I'll be in and out without issues."

"Who sends a Vreselari to the Wastelands for Aurum?! You know nothing of our lands!" I exclaimed as I relaxed my grip on the bow. I lowered it when I could.

"Simple— the High Council of Vreselon," he responded, his voice steady.

I raised an eyebrow, my bow now at my side. The High Council of Vreselon was renowned for its authority and wealth, and its decisions impacted all Vreselari. "The High Council sent you?" I asked, skepticism lacing my words. You don't seem like much," I commented.

Cythil gasped and looked instead, taken back. "Excuse me? I am a very capable rogue!" He huffed.

Cythil gasped dramatically, looking genuinely taken aback. "Excuse me? I am a capable rogue!" he huffed, a playful glint in his eyes.

I couldn't help but let out a small chuckle at his reaction. "You certainly don't act like one."

He crossed his arms, pouting slightly. "Just because I don't brood all day doesn't mean I'm not skilled. The High Council knows talent when they see it, and they saw it in me."

"Is that so?" I replied, raising an eyebrow again. "And what makes you so special?"

He grinned, his demeanor lightening. "Well, for one, I'm charming," he said with a wink. "And two, I have a knack for getting out of tight spots. Just ask the High Council—they wouldn't have sent me if I wasn't up to the task."

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at his exaggerated compliment. “Flattery will get you nowhere, rogue,” I replied, though a small smile tugged at the corners of my lips. “What were you really doing out here?”

The man laughed, a light, airy sound that seemed oddly out of place in the desolate landscape. “I assure you, I was merely on a grand adventure,” he said dramatically. “But alas, even the most daring adventurers sometimes find themselves in need of a rescue.”

Astra snorted, clearly unimpressed by his theatrics. Her wings fluffed out slightly as she kept a watchful eye on Cythil, her suspicion unwavering.

“Noble Griffin,” the rogue addressed Astra with a mock bow. "I promise I mean no harm. I’m a humble traveler seeking my way through this treacherous land.”

“Right…” I murmured, standing up and crossing my arms as I did so. I gazed down at him, trying to take in his looks. He was a pretty, handsome elf with chiseled features and silver eyes that sparkled with mischief. Despite his charm, there was something about him that I didn’t like—something that seemed to set Astra on edge as well.

Astra snorted, her skepticism mirroring my own. Her wings fluffed out slightly, a silent warning to the stranger.

“So,” I said, my tone calm, “if you’re just a humble traveler, what exactly is this quest of yours?"

“Ah, me?! I'm here to just find... another elf. You must be the one!” he said as he stood up and dusted himself off. “Taking in the look of your… well, clothing,” he mocked as he began to look over my outfit.

“What’s wrong with my clothing?!” I growled at him, my gaze locking with his as I could feel the tips of my long ears burn.

Cythil chuckled, a playful glint in his eyes. “Nothing, nothing at all! I just expected someone on such a dangerous quest to be dressed a bit more... rugged,” he teased, his smile widening.

“Arrogant little elf, aren't we?" I muttered under my breath, side-eyeing Astra as she rolled her eyes.

Cythil chuckled, clearly amused by my irritation. “Ah, I’ve hit a nerve, haven’t I? But let’s not pretend, Huntress. I know exactly who you are.”

I narrowed my eyes, suspicion creeping in. “And what would you know about me?”

“More than you’d like, I imagine,” he said, his grin turning into a smirk. “Your reputation precedes you. The fearless Huntress of the Wastelands, renowned for her skills and… a bit of a temper. Zarola, daughter of Sylvain!”

The mention of my father's name made my heart skip a beat. I forced myself to remain composed, though the shock was evident in my eyes. “How do you know about my father?” I demanded, my voice low and dangerous.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Cythil shrugged nonchalantly. “News travels fast, especially when it concerns someone as famous—or should I say infamous—as you. The High Council has a way of keeping tabs on those who might affect their interests.”

“Is that a threat?” I asked, my grip tightening on my bow.

“Not at all,” he replied, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. “I’m here to ask for your help, not to make enemies. Your skills are well-known, and I believe you're the key to finding what the High Council seeks.”

I felt a flash of annoyance but kept my expression neutral. “Whatever you think you know, it doesn’t mean anything. If you’re feeling better, I recommend returning wherever you are. I don’t need luggage,” I sighed as I turned away from the elf, his silver eyes burning into me. “If you need my thumbprint or signature, let me know so I can get you out of my lands. If you’re interested in adventure, I’d suggest contacting the Frost Giants - they like toys - especially rogue elves.”

Cythil’s smirk faded slightly, but he quickly recovered. “Oh, I’m sure they do. But I feel you’re where the real adventure is, Zarola. And I’m not one to miss out on the fun.”

I rolled my eyes, not bothering to respond, as I began to walk away. Astra fluffed her wings, clearly sharing my irritation. Then, I paused as something flashed through my mind, and I felt my nerves peak to the tip. Instantly, I froze as I recognized the disturbance nearby. Frowning, I drew my bow and gazed around, my ears straining to catch any sound.

It was a strange, high-pitched noise. My heart pounded as I scanned the area, and my senses heightened.

“Did you hear that?” I whispered.

“Are you sure it’s not your imagination, hunter?” Cythil questioned, still skeptical.

Ignoring his comment, I focused on the noise. It was now unmistakable, a strange, high-pitched wail that seemed to pierce the air around us. I motioned for Cythil to follow as I cautiously moved towards the source.

The temperature seemed to drop even further as we approached a clearing surrounded by icy rocks. The high-pitched noise was almost unbearable, and I could see my breath forming clouds in the frigid air.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a faint, ghostly figure hovering just above the ground. It was a frost wraith, its form shifting and shimmering like mist. It was wailing, a mournful cry that chilled me to the bone.

“Oh damn! What’s that?!” Cythil’s voice questioned, his eyes wide like he had just scored a large amount of candy.

“Shut up!” I hissed at him, glaring. “These things are dangerous!”

The frost wraith’s eyes glowed with an eerie blue light as it approached us. Its wail grew louder, piercing, and I could feel the cold seeping into my bones. I knew we had to act fast.

I drew an arrow, aiming for the wraith’s center. “Get ready,” I said to Cythil, my voice steady despite the fear gnawing at me. “I hope you can fight, pretty boy,” I whispered to him.

“Oh, that’s what attacked me already; it didn’t leave?!”

“They’re highly territorial -” I cut myself off when I realized the frost wraith had disappeared into the darkness. I pinched my bow tighter as I tried to listen to my surroundings.

Cythil flashed a grin. “Hey, I’m just here for the charming company.”

That’s when I saw a flash of silver fade in and out of my surroundings. “Watch out!” I called to Cythil, rushing forward to knock him away from where the Frost wraith was about to attack.

We tumbled to the ground, narrowly avoiding the wraith's icy claws. “Thanks for the save,” Cythil muttered, quickly springing to his feet. “But I didn’t realize we were that close!” He gazed up at me as my chest bubbled over him.

“Stay focused,” I snapped, pulling him to his feet. “This thing means business.”

The frost wraith reappeared, its spectral form gliding closer, its eyes glowing with an eerie light. As it lunged again, Cythil sidestepped with the agility of a cat, his daggers flashing as he struck at its shifting form. “Nice try, frosty, but I’m quicker than you.”

I fired an arrow, but the wraith twisted unnaturally, avoiding the shot. Cythil continued his dance; his movements were fluid and precise. “You know,” he said, dodging another swipe, “I think it’s trying to give me a hug. I’m flattered, really.”

The wraith’s claws slashed through the air, leaving frost trails in their wake. Cythil ducked and rolled, coming up behind the creature and plunging his daggers into its back. The wraith screeched, its form flickering.

“Come on, is that the best you’ve got?” Cythil taunted, pulling his daggers free and spinning away from another attack. He moved with a rogue’s grace, permanently one step ahead, striking with speed and precision. “You call that an attack?”

I nocked another arrow, aiming carefully. Cythil’s constant motion was giving me the opening I needed. The wraith turned its attention to me, its eyes glowing brighter. It lunged, and I released the arrow, hitting it square in the chest. The creature howled, its form wavering.

Suddenly, Astra swooped down from above. With a mighty flap of her wings, she unleashed a gust of wind, sending the frost wraith tumbling backward. Her sharp claws tore through the wraith’s spectral form, further weakening it.

“Good girl, Astra!” I called as she circled back for another pass.

But before we could celebrate, a chilling wail echoed through the clearing. Emerging from the darkness, a family of frost wraiths glided towards us, their eyes glowing with malevolent intent. There were five of them, their forms shimmering in the cold air.

Cythil glanced at me, his eyes narrowing. “Looks like we’ve got company,” he said, a smirk on his lips. “Time to show them what a ‘Pretty-Boy Vreselari’ can do.”

He stepped forward, his daggers glowing with a faint, ethereal light. Cythil’s form began to shimmer as well, becoming almost translucent. “Watch and learn,” he said arrogantly, his voice echoing. The rogue vanished from sight, becoming a blur of motion that darted between the wraiths. In the blink of an eye, he reappeared behind one of the wraiths, his daggers plunging into its back. The creature howled in agony as it dissipated into mist.

“Too slow,” Cythil taunted as he moved to the next wraith. He danced around their attacks, his movements impossibly fast. Each strike of his daggers was precise and deadly, and another wraith fell to his blades.

Before the wraith could counterattack, Cythil’s loyal Kirin charged in. The ethereal creature's hooves glowed with a radiant light and, with a powerful kick, sent the wraith flying. “Nice timing, Nocturne!” Cythil shouted as he moved to engage another wraith.

Astra swooped in again, her powerful talons raking through another wraith, tearing it apart. I fired arrow after arrow, each shot finding its mark. Together, we were a whirlwind of coordinated attacks, keeping the wraiths off balance.

Nocturne defended Cythil, his radiant aura repelling the wraiths' icy attacks. With a graceful leap, Nocturne impaled a wraith on his glowing horn, the creature dissolving into mist. Cythil followed up with swift, precise strikes, his daggers quickly cutting through the wraiths.

“Honestly, this is almost too easy,” Cythil quipped, dodging a wraith's swipe with a flourish. “I might as well be dancing. Should I start charging for lessons?” He winked at me, his arrogance on full display as he dispatched another wraith with a flourish.

Astra and Nocturne fought side by side, their combined strength overwhelming the spectral foes. Astra’s wings created powerful gusts of wind, knocking the wraiths off balance, while Nocturne’s radiant kicks and horn strikes shattered their forms. I continued to support from a distance, my arrows finding their marks with unerring accuracy.

Cythil moved with a rogue’s grace, permanently one step ahead, striking with speed and precision. His arrogance was evident in every move but backed by undeniable skill. “Stay down, you icy pests,” he muttered, landing blow after blow.

Sensing their impending defeat, the remaining wraiths grew more frantic in their attacks. But it was too late. With one final, coordinated effort, Astra, Nocturne, Cythil, and I struck simultaneously. My arrow, Astra’s claws, Nocturne’s horn, and Cythil’s daggers all found their marks, and the last of the wraiths dissolved into nothingness.

Breathing heavily, I lowered my bow and looked at Cythil. “Impressive moves, pretty boy,” I admitted.

Cythil grinned, sheathing his daggers. “Not bad for a Vreselari, huh?” He ran his hand through his black hair above his silver eyes and turned to face his dark Kirin. “Who’s a good boy?! You are! You are!” He said, showing Nocturne gratitude, but the Kirin snorted in return.

Astra landed beside me, her eyes sharp and alert. At the same time, Nocturne stood proudly next to Cythil, his radiant form casting a gentle glow in the dim light. The battlefield was now eerily quiet, the wraiths having been vanquished. I gently rubbed her head and began to examine her for any wounds that may have happened.

Cythil’s expression softened slightly as he watched me tend to Astra. “You’ve got a good partner there, Zarola. Takes a lot of trust to fight like that.”

I nodded, feeling a surge of pride. “Yeah, Astra’s the best. And Nocturne’s no slouch either,” I said as I gazed over to the large dark kirin, who was waiting patiently.

Cythil patted Nocturne’s neck affectionately. “He’s stubborn, but he’s got a heart of gold hidden under all that attitude.”

Silence fell once more as I examined Astra, giving her head one last reassuring pat. I glanced over at Cythil, who had turned away and was checking something with his back to me. Curiosity getting the better of me, I edged closer, trying to sneak a peek at what he was doing.

Peering over his shoulder, I saw a small orb emitting a soft blue light in his hand. He tapped the orb, and the blue light vanished before he quickly tucked it back into his backpack. Realizing I might get caught, I pulled away swiftly, hoping he hadn’t noticed my snooping.

Cythil turned back around, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “Curiosity killed the cat, you know,” he teased, raising an eyebrow. “Or, in your case, the griffin rider.”

I crossed my arms, not amused by his lightheartedness. “What was that orb you were messing with?” I asked directly, my tone serious.

He chuckled, clearly enjoying the exchange. “Just a little trinket, nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about. Helps me with my quest.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “If it’s nothing, then why hide it?”

Cythil shrugged nonchalantly, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Let’s just say it’s a tool of the trade. Helps me keep tabs on things. You know, rogue stuff.”

“One of the weirdest Vreselaris I’ve met,” I muttered, returning to Astra. With a quick hop up, I leaned against the griffin and glanced back at the night sky above us. I could faintly see Vreselon’s floating islands and frowned as I turned to face the rogue. "How do you know my name, though, Cythil?"

He flashed a roguish grin, his silver eyes sparkling. “Oh, come now, Huntress. You didn’t think someone of your reputation would go unnoticed, did you? The High Council closely monitors those who might affect their interests, and you, dear Zarola, are quite an interesting figure. I’ve heard stories—tales of the 'Great Tribe of the Wastelands.'”

"Great Tribe," I replied, feeling a bit of pride behind that, and I couldn't help but smile a bit. "What exactly have you heard about us?" I questioned him.

Cythil leaned casually against a nearby rock, his demeanor relaxed yet focused. “For starters, they say your tribe is unmatched in survival skills and combat prowess, especially in the harsh conditions of the Wastelands. Legends speak of your people’s ability to track anything or anyone, no matter how elusive. And then there’s you, the Huntress, who stands out even among such formidable warriors.”

I felt a mixture of pride and sadness at his words. My tribe’s reputation was well-earned, but it reminded me of what I had lost. “That still doesn’t explain how you know so much about me specifically,” I said, keeping my tone even.

Cythil’s expression softened slightly. “Information is my trade, Zarola. I make it my business to know things that others might overlook. Your name came up in various reports and stories—tales of your father, Sylvain, and your own remarkable feats. The High Council is particularly interested in individuals who might pose a threat or be of great help. You fall into the latter category.”

"Tch," I growled. "You, Vreselari, are definitely something else," I muttered, giving him a cold glare as I climbed onto Astra. "I think it's strange that my father receives a message from the Vreselari, and now you're just... Poof! Here!" I gazed at Cythil, scrutinizing his appearance. His tattered clothing told a story of hardship and long journeys. There was no way he could be the official messenger—he was a rogue through and through. His attire was worn and patched, with holes indicating he had been on the road for days, maybe weeks.

Despite his rough exterior, his gaze had a certain sharpness, a keen intelligence that belied his shabby appearance. He might not look the part of a messenger, but there was no denying his resourcefulness and cunning. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was hiding something, something that might be crucial to our survival.

Cythil seemed to sense my scrutiny and grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he brushed his gentle black hair out of his gaze. “I know, I don’t look like much. But sometimes, it’s the ones who don’t fit in who see the most,” he said, giving a slight, almost imperceptible shrug. “We all have our roles to play.”

Cythil seemed to sense my scrutiny and grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he brushed his gentle black hair out of his gaze. "I know, I don’t look like much. But sometimes, it’s the ones who don’t fit in who see the most," he said, giving a slight, almost imperceptible shrug. "We all have our roles to play."

I crossed my arms, still perched on Astra’s back, and narrowed my eyes. “Roles, huh? And what role are you playing in all of this, Cythil?”

He chuckled softly, a sound that seemed oddly out of place in the stillness of the night. "I'm a guide, seeking truths hidden in plain sight. You might call me a rogue, but I prefer to think of myself as someone who navigates the spaces others overlook. And right now, my path has led me to you, Huntress."

"You're a rogue," I commented.

"Thanks, Captain Obvious," he replied with a smirk.

I frowned, still unconvinced. “Convenient, isn’t it? That your path just happens to align with mine now.”

Cythil’s expression grew more serious, his eyes locking onto mine. “Believe what you will, Zarola. But know this: the relic we seek is real, and its power is beyond anything we can imagine. If we don’t find it first, someone else will, and the consequences could be catastrophic.”

I felt a chill run down my spine at his words. The stakes were higher than I’d realized, and my instincts told me that Cythil was not entirely to be trusted. But I also couldn’t deny that he might be the key to finding the relic and saving our lands.

That may be why Vreselon has contacted us.

"I wish you the best of luck in finding this 'relic,'" I sighed as I motioned to Astra to take flight.

However, when Cythil stepped in front of Astra and me, I couldn’t help but gain another hint of curiosity. This rogue was exciting and seemed to know a little - but not enough. My blue gaze traveled down to him. “What?” I demanded.

His playful demeanor softened slightly as he noticed the frustration in my voice. “I get it, Zarola. You have responsibilities and people to protect,” He stated. “But perhaps this could be an opportunity to find answers to help your tribe. Only a few Vreselari know what is happening - mostly the council and the upper townsmen.”

Listening to him made me realize we could only figure out what was happening in Vreselon by exploring the city. I don’t think my father would be pleased about me going, but perhaps it was something I could do to help them. Father was getting older and sicker. Whatever was getting to him was growing faster. On the one hand, exploring Vreselon would potentially be a good thing, but on the other, I’d be leaving him and my home.

“I only just met you,” I said to him, shuffling my weight on Astra before giving her a click and causing her to take flight into the sky.

“HEY! I wasn’t done talking!” Cythil’s voice sounded. “Gah, women are complicated. Nocturne, follow.”

Despite my instinct to distance myself from him, the urgency of my situation kept pulling me back. Father’s condition was worsening, and the strange occurrences in the Wastelands couldn’t be ignored. But the idea of venturing to Vreselon, a city in the sky far removed from my home, filled me with dread.

Astra’s wings cut through the air as I wrestled with my thoughts. Vreselon might hold the answers I needed, but leaving my father and tribe behind felt like abandoning them. Yet, what choice did I have? I had to take it if there was even a chance Vreselon could help.

Cythil’s voice interrupted my thoughts as Nocturne caught up to us. “You know, Zarola, you’re making this harder than it needs to be. Vreselon isn’t some distant dream; it’s real and might be the key to everything.”

“Why should I trust you?” I shot back, my voice carried away by the wind. “You’re an elf from Vreselon. What do you know about the struggles of the Wastelands?”

He grinned, his confidence unwavering. “More than you think. Look, I get it. Vreselon seems like a world apart, but it's not invincible. Things are changing there, too. I don’t know the specifics, but something big is happening if they’re reaching out for help. They’ve gone great lengths to reach out to the Wastelanders.”

I glanced at him, seeing him keep up with us rather well. It was impressive that a kirin could keep up with Astra, and it was almost a challenge. I could feel the wind rip through my white hair as Astra’s speed picked up while we traveled back home to the tribe.

“You’ve got quite the confidence,” I complimented him. “Though, how do I know it’s not some… Wild Goose chase?”

“It’s an adventure!” he called over to me, his Kirin falling in flight next to my griffin. Nearly perfectly in sync, he locked gazes with me. Those silver eyes that are common amongst Vreselari burned into me. He knew something, and he wasn’t telling me.

The fact that he came to our tribe, specifically me, and knew who I was and my father was made me curious.

“We both want the same thing!” He called over as I encouraged Astra to speed up.

I frowned. I couldn't dare pair up with a Vreselari, could I? Seems completely out of sync for me. I glanced over my shoulder at him and then at the islands that floated far away. My gaze couldn't tear away from the floating isles. I needed to save my land - even if we weren't in 'trouble' right now. They asked my father for help. Cythil seems to know a little. Maybe I could take advantage of this? If I could work for the Vreselon, they would find a way to help us here in the Wastelands - specifically, my father. I can keep him safe and healthy and get medicine that we may not have access to.

Well, let's see if he's worth it.

"Try and keep up!" I hollered to him.