Wood as far as the eye could see. There was no ground in sight, only the dark of a rising tide and tall mossy trunks stretching far unto the heavens.
Black waters.
They rose and rose, engulfing the dense forest of the valley... and Adler climbed. Her hands grasped the bark tightly, scaling faster, moving with all the strength she could muster.
The wound at her side burned. It throbbed, yet still she fought against it. Reaching for a small branch, she snapped it free and placed it between her teeth. She bit hard upon it, the bark cracking as she moved.
No matter how far she ascended, the trees seemed to stretch onward unto the heavens, passing through the clouds with no discernible end.
Skypiercer.
When had she begun her climb? How much farther would those black waters rise? Her mind raced. Her heart tried to keep pace, but she felt it skipping beats, her body trembling...
As she looked back down, the black waters rose like tar, flames engulfing the bases of the trees before subsiding beneath that oozing dark.
She turned to continue her climb and saw Hilohaat and Ucchamān scaling other trunks, along with Angura she did not recognize. Each one moved with such ease and strength that she could scarcely compare herself to them...
Her hand trembled again, squeezing the bark. She could not move.
Her body stilled beneath fear and despair. She did not belong here. It was only the fortune of Nymeia's gaze that had allowed her to survive this long. Was it not?
Where was Cian? Where was her Wrath? That force which had always given her the strength to fight on. Where was the fury that had once granted her a way out?
Her hands loosened upon the bark...And she began to let go.
Then a hand extended...
Adler's wrist was gripped hard-- her darkened amber gaze lifting to find Ragahāwā above her, his red limbals stark against the black cloud sky.
Then the black waters bit into her leg, pulling her back toward the depths. A shriek tore from her as she lost her footing.
She slipped, nails digging into the bark as she was dragged downward-- but Ragahāwā held tighter and buried his strong talon fingers into her scales, cracking them as scarlet began to ooze forth.
Those scales began to spread.
They moved across Adler like lava, scoring her skin with such heat that she screamed. Her legs were slowly being engulfed by the rising waters, flares of fire sparking where the blackness burned against her ankles. Yet as the blood engulfed her form, so too did newly formed scales begin to take shape-- like cooled lava, obsidian casting itself across her body, burning away the clothes she wore until her form was left entirely bare, coated prominently in scale.
Where black waters and scale met, they sparked in brilliant flashes of light, fighting back against the mortal coil as it began to wrap itself around Adler's ankles-- lengths of barbed metal wire tightening hard around the obsidian plates.
Yet the newly formed scales would not yield.
All her life, Adler had believed the black waters to be nothing more than a cool embrace... She recalled drifting within them, watching the stars above. They had carried her once.
But these waters? These sought to consume her... She had anticipated the frost. The quiet cold. Not this burning.
Yet why did they burn so? Why did her own blood seek to consume her? What was happening? It hurt. It hurts so much. The spring. It burns.
Tears began to well in her eyes as she looked back to Ragahāwā, who remained resolute. In that, Adler felt her own body still. Then came the sudden assurance. He had come to her aid again, not a hint of malice and a steady recognition of what dwelled in the tattered soul.
The resilience of the mountain.
"Climb, Angura," he said.
With a sudden grip, he pulled, and so too did she. Her muscles flexed, the newly formed scales steaming as she dragged herself upward.
She hauled herself brutally from the black tar, one leg rising, coated in the oozing dark, then the other. Her form was bare. Naked, as the last remnants of her clothing fell away.
Again and again, the waters continued to rise, yet she continued to ascend. Her skin peeled, the stitches upon her form tearing away in flickers of crystal, her muscles left bare to the air...
Still she ascended.
Courage.
Still she steadied her breath.
Rhythm.
Still her gaze remained high.
Hope.
Ragahāwā held her arm, his other hand scaling upward slowly, but with certainty-- hoisting himself with a single grip as he dragged her higher.
It was then that they began to pass through the clouds. The black fog was deep, yet she could still see his hand upon her wrist, squeezing tight.
The scales upon her form spread and filled the places left bare, solidified by the mist of the heavens. Pain surged through her. Her body wished to give out, and a sense of unease settled within her bones.
As she looked down upon her mangled form, she realized she had seen this sight before. When a Puppet was constructed, they oft did not remember the torment-- yet Adler had been aware, for the Prototype had been the first. But the memory did not deter her.
She gritted her teeth.
Then Ragahāwā let her go--
And Adler slammed her hand into the bark, muscles flexing as she dug her talons in.
She held tightly to the tree, catching her breath. It was so difficult to breathe here, so high amidst the mountain air, sweat dripping from her brow to her chin, then down below to kiss the black waters...
When she finally looked up, there she saw them.
The stars, milky-white like pearls-- a reminder of the promise she had made.
She felt the black touch the exposed bone at her heel and flinched, jerking her leg upward until her foot found purchase upon a burning branch. Then she climbed, the motion coming more naturally now, settling into a cadence.
Right hand. Left foot. Left hand. Right foot.
Slowly, as though she were crawling upon the hunt, her tail flicked behind her as her skin began to reform. Her eyes narrowed with intent, those limbals beginning to burn with brilliant fury. Her muscles tensed, and then she felt it-- her body calling forth that dark force...
Cian was with her then, swirling in blinding rage. With a leap, she scaled farther above-- skin reforming, stitches manifesting where they had been, and scale settling firmly over what remained. Her body was emboldened by the glistening molten flame beneath her, the tar burning at the base of every trunk.
When she cleared the clouds, there she saw him again-- Ragahāwā peering down at her from above, settled upon one of the branches. Then he too began to climb ahead.
The waters behind her still rose-- and so too did she.
'Faster.' Cian said.
She rose from all fours onto two feet, then began to run as fast as she could muster. Faster than she had ever run through old Nymian ruins. Faster than she had upon distant beaches. Faster than she had ever run from the cold spires of Ishgard.
The Moon hung wide beyond the horizon of trees, as though the very gaze of Nhaama watched her. Her pale light stretched across the flaming black waters that chased so desperately after Adler, eager to engulf her...
Yet Adler's silhouette remained firm. Steady. Refined. Stark beneath Nhaama's gaze. This woman, once formed as a weapon-- now free to chart her own course as embers fluttered from her scales.
The Marionette.
Her body renewed, Adler's legs carried her onward, arms swinging at her sides as though she moved against the very laws of the world. She kept her sharp gaze forward, determined to see it through. Her chest rose and fell with quickened breath, her heart racing against time.
As the end of the trunk came into view, her gaze shifted toward the other Angura reaching the crowns of their own trees. Their cries rang through the dark as, one after another, they made their leaps of faith.
She watched Hilohaat and Ucchamān reach the ends of their trees-- and then they too leapt, spinning and turning in their descent, howling to the Moon.
Hundreds of Angura cast themselves from the bark and were drawn upward into the very heavens...
And there she saw it.
Skypiercer, the highest peak of the Tail Mountains, hidden amidst the stars.
Home.
She screamed at the top of her lungs, as all the other Angura had before her, the small branch falling from her lips and plopping back into the oily tar below with a spark. The final moment came fast, the end of the bark slipping past her feet as she pushed out with all of her might.
Yet she felt the draw of gravity begin to pull her back toward it, her heart stuttering for a moment as breathless air came. There was no way to breathe here. Her hand reached out desperately toward the mountain peak... and for the briefest moment, she saw the sea.
... But just then, bliss shuddered through her, answered by a resounding gasp. Wings of brilliant dark amber and black burst from the scales at her back, breaching through the newly formed obsidian plates. Wrath's wings manifested, the amber of Adler's gaze flaring bright as stark crimson markings formed around her eyes...
Then those massive wings kicked once, forcing the trees below to bend away--
And she took flight.
...
Somewhere between dreaming and waking, Adler heard her own voice rise from the dark.
"I had not thought mine thread would endure so long. Oft have I cast myself unto dire places where wiser souls would ne'er have trod-- for what had I to lose? 'Tis a strange thing, I think... There was a time when this mortal coil of mine was stretched so thin-- when the threads strained so near the brink-- that fear of death became acceptance. That my life was but a tool's end, for there were no purpose left to me-- a puppet without command."
"And yet, at that time-- I moved as though I still had something left to give. Even with no Order-- I sought purpose. That my life would have meant more than to simply inflict pain unto others. I have known every cruelty... And I have known every kindness... And when I am alone, where do my thoughts dwell?"
"Silence. Serenity-- for there is no storm that I cannot weather. That was, at least, what I knew before... when my limbs were held together by string. Yet now I live. I have been healed beyond the threshold, made to stand among the living as I am. Now that I am burdened with this, the choice is mine to behold... And what have I chosen?"
"I have ne'er had so many chances to die... and here am I, risking it all."
"For what? ..."
"A child?"
"...My child."
...
The hushed tones of The Sharlayan came from the black.
"Addie... you alright?"
And then the spike of frosty air filled her lungs.
Adler released a guttural cry as the scent of burning flesh caught in her throat. She lay upon the frozen ground, shaking, while the searing pain at her side drove her to strain against Ragahāwā's hold. Another Angura pressed a heated metal rod to the wound, searing it closed beneath the burn.
When the moment passed, a sense of ease overcame her. Her vision faded once more--
and silence rested upon her.
...
Days passed.
Adler's limbals had darkened, their once-pale amber settled into a deeper sunset hue as her gaze lingered upon the ceiling. An empty bowl sat at her side upon an old wooden table. The cabin was made of stone and wood, with thick moss filling the gaps to ensure the flame at its center could maintain the warmth of the room.
She was not entirely sure how long she had been there, but she often heard footsteps outside and idle words of conversation, suggesting there were others nearby-- though not many. Pelts lined the walls, and thick, warm fabrics had been hung throughout the room.
A tannery, from what she could tell.
The bedding beneath her was made of Karakul wool, likely traded from the Steppe. Her mind lingered upon that.
Was she within an Angura settlement?
She had seen no one besides the Jhānkri. At least, that was what the Bahādur had called the elderly woman... It was their word for an udgan, as Adler understood it.
It made her wonder just how different the lands beyond the mountains might be-- the distant expanse of the Dalvalan Grath.
Would she ever see it? Would she ever be strong enough to?
When the Jhānkri returned, Adler tried to sit up-- but the pain at her side gave her pause. Even so, she managed to slowly rest herself against the wall beside the bed. Her gaze lowered to the burned skin at her side. Her scales were as they had been before, leaving much of her skin exposed, save for the cauterized scarring there.
The elderly woman bore newly painted markings upon her face: a pair of lines drawn down from the corners of her eyes, and a single dot between them. She settled upon a nearby seat, as she often did. They had not spoken much, communicating more through gestures than words.
Then she pulled the small board from her side, drew forth a piece of chalk, and placed it into the holder at its top.
By now, Adler could discern the words with Cian's help, hearing him speak them clearly within her mind as the Jhānkri began to hum and the words drew themselves upon the board.
(We will walk.)
Adler let her gaze linger upon the board... and without further prompting, she slowly began to drag herself from beneath the fur blanket, planting her bare feet upon the stone floor.
Adler was entirely bare-- every stitch encircling her limbs and every worn, old scar visible upon the former Puppet. The Jhānkri herself did not seem concerned in the least, as though she had already known what Adler was.
After taking a moment to dress in the robes provided to her, Adler gathered her things. What remained of the Tail Blue had been wrapped and returned to her while she slept. She tucked the bundle carefully into her satchel, hopeful it would still be enough to fulfill her promise to the Olkund.
It was a struggle to move, but she knew it needed to be done. She placed the satchel over her shoulder and followed the Jhānkri out into the small settlement.
It had been built along the face of a cliff, its stone homes carved into the mountainside itself. Most appeared bare and cold. The bitter frost had passed, though remnants of snow remained and green was slowly returning to the land.
There were few signs of anyone else as they moved through the settlement.
It was empty.
(Tribe travel between settlement. Must preserve paths, that Nhaama, Azim and Snow Mountain can see our prayer.)
Cian explained to Adler that Snow Mountain may have been a name, but he could not discern it.
A third? Adler wondered.
When they reached the edge of the settlement, they found Mother Rokhā and her son grazing together. Large bags of grain rested nearby, suggesting that there were, at least, others present...
Just not here.
The two were beckoned to follow, and they did.
As they moved, the Jhānkri spoke of the Angura-- of their great trek across the many valleys of the Tail Mountains, undertaken in preparation for the long journey across the Dalvalan Grath and through the Glacial Passage at the foot of the Blindfrost. It was their way of proving to the Elder Gods that they still held the right to live, and that the strength of their bonds and spirits remained undying.
The Jhānkri had brought Adler to a settlement raided by another mountain tribe: the Ragat. It seemed that even amidst the Tail Mountains, the rivalries and feuds between tribes were not unlike those of the Azim Steppe. This particular settlement had once served as a place of accord with the Ura tribe, who exchanged ores from the mountains for safe passage along the Angura's more hidden trails...
However, rather than preserve the paths, the Ragat followed another telling of the past... one concerning the Elder Gods, the very same beings whom the Mol seemed to revere. Yet the Ragat's understanding of their will differed vastly-- most of all in their reverence for Raktacandra, the Sovereign of the Blood Moon. They believed that, after his fall from the heavens, they had been commanded to honor the mountains through blood, until the whole of the range was painted red.
Raktacandra was among the most frightening of those Elder Gods, Adler felt... She had seen what dwelt within a scarlet room. It was not a sight she would wish any other to bear.
None would, not while she yet breathed...
A memory settled somewhere in the back of her mind, but it did not come.
Then the Jhānkri lowered herself to the soil to pray. She drew the dhyāngro at her side near, her age-worn fingers gently thrumming upon its surface. It was said that its voice could call to the spirits, acknowledging their presence and granting them peace. The rite ensured that no malevolent presence had come to linger and taint the land, and that those spirits which remained might finally rest at ease.
Then, at last, a small candle was placed upon a shrine formed from the melted remains of many others, their wax having pooled and hardened into the shape of a little mountain... and lit.
Once the silence of peace had settled, they began to tread onward-- the slow thumps of Mother Rokhā's steps and the smaller taps of young Rokhā's feet following behind them. The Jhānkri brought Adler to another overlook, where she showed her the neighboring valley just beyond the Galemaw, known as the Nadīko Ā̃khā. It was there that the Angura tribe currently traveled.
Adler knew that, in the Auri tongue, its name would be Golyn Nüd-- the River's Eye. The valley also seemed to lie along the course through which the One River flowed...
How beautiful and vast the range was, cradled within the arms of heaven along the distant horizon. Her thoughts drifted toward the Elder Gods.
She wondered whether she might one day come to know them all.
They rested at the overlook beneath a stand of trees rising high above them. Adler's legs dangled over the edge as she peered toward the mountain peaks beside them.
The summit lay farther above. Far, far above...
As the Jhānkri began to hum, words drew themselves upon the board at her side.
(You will both need to climb.)
"To earn my name?"
(Yes... and ensure his spirit.) She gestured back toward the smaller Dzo.
Adler turned to look at the Jhānkri. Her fur-lined cap drooped along either side of her horns, olive-green stones set along its crown, while the hanging fabric framed the tired gaze she cast toward the distant horizon. A small smoking stick rested between her lips, a thin ribbon curling from its end. She sat cross-legged at the very edge of the cliff, entirely at ease, with her stave resting across one shoulder.
"Aha... I suppose it is my fault that he was born all the way up here. I owe him that much."
The realization came softly as Adler looked between the two mountain Dzo. The mother was immense by comparison, her broad frame rising like a hill beside the calf. Adler found herself wondering how something so small and unsteady might one day grow to rival her.
"Rokhā," she decided. "I shall call him Rokhā as well."
(It is good name. The Olkund will be glad for it. They will ask you to raise him.)
"Hm... And thine? I do not believe I ever caught thy name."
(Himakiraṇ.)
"What does it mean?"
(A light in the snow.)
Adler hummed thoughtfully. "I feel as though I sensed that when first we met."
A soft chortle escaped Himakiraṇ, and Adler soon joined her.
(It is good you returned. Many do not return. This is not easy life, but it is ours.)
"Thou speakest truly in that regard... My life has been placed in jeopardy more times within this short week than nearly anywhere else."
(But...) Himakiraṇ mused, shifting her gaze slowly to the side. Her head remained still as her eyes settled upon Adler. (I know why you first came.)
Adler felt a steady band of unease settle along her spine. "Of mine own accord..."
(This journey you began... it was in the name of love.)
"I--..." Realization slowly settled across her features. It came back to her then-- the promise to return to The Islander. A promise to remain safe. "In part, yes..."
(Then you must understand.)
As Himakiraṇ spoke, the seasons of the world around them began to shift. Spring gave way to summer, summer to autumn, and then to the starkness of winter, until ice coated the valleys in full. The change came in an instant, and Adler could have sworn she saw her breath fog before her.
(This ascent, you may only make for yourself. Not for any other. You, and only you.)
The words carried the echo of something yet to be spoken in a distant future.
Then the world returned to the coolness of spring.
Adler turned sharply toward her. "How dost--"
Himakiraṇ peered up toward the mountain, raising one aged finger toward its distant peak. Small markings of ink were embedded beneath the skin of her hands.
(The Elder God of the Snow Mountain, Himadhara, grants every Jhānkri a gift. Through dreams, we may watch over the children who leave the mountain.)
"Himadhara?" Adler paused, peering toward the distant summit as the connection to Himakiraṇ's name finally settled upon her. Hima meant snow...
"Then thou hast seen my dreams..." Adler grew quiet, hesitation flickering across her features as she lowered her gaze.
(I have watched over you since you were taken from this mountain, child.)
The wind moved softly between them.
Adler's fingers curled into the grass, gripping the blades tightly.
"I love her."
(I am sure you do. But there is a truth you ignore.)
Himakiraṇ's tired amber eyes remained fixed upon her. The look felt much like Erdenetungalag's had-- the silver of the moon in her eyes, pale skin framed by raven hair. Wisdom waiting to be imparted.
(Her heart remains with the home to which she cannot return. She cannot give it to you.)
For a long moment, neither moved. Adler stared at her, the wind tugging at her robes as her fingers tightened within the grass. She shook her head.
"Foolishness..." Adler said softly, though she knew it to be true. Her thoughts dwelled upon the words The Islander had spoken-- that even when Adler was there, that deep sadness was one thing she could never ease.
The course had been charted long ago.
The Jhānkri's tired amber eyes remained unmoving, half-lidded with knowing. She bore the quiet certainty of one who had witnessed the same grief in many forms.
(When truth comes, you will have decision to make.)
She pointed toward Adler, as though indicating something farther within her.
Cian.
(Complete your union, as Tumet has told you... then return to mountain. Here, you may receive training for what mountain is calling you to become. Otherwise, imbalance will find you again.)
Adler felt Cian pull at her chest, a sense of burdened truth lingering within the words.
Had even he sensed it?
"I must bear hope... I will do all I can to show my devotion. That is what shall earn me my place. Devotion."
As the silence settled, Himakiraṇ's amber limbals lingered upon Adler's own darkened hues. Slowly, a smile crept across her aged lips, followed by the beginnings of laughter.
The board began to write once more, using what little remained of the chalk. Its final words formed before the piece wore away entirely.
(Stubborn as mountain. You are Angura blood.)
Then the Jhānkri began to chuckle, her shoulders bouncing as though she had thoroughly amused herself, before peering back toward the horizon.
Adler remained quiet, yet her thoughts did not linger long upon the warning. When she too looked upon the valley beyond, the paths seemed endless in possibility-- yet among them, she began to see those she might one day walk.
The River's Eye... So this was the valley, then. The next in her journey.
"I shall walk the valleys with Rokhā until I am ready to make the ascent... Learn of the mountain tribes and their ways, that I may discern where mine own heart truly lies. I have come so far, and oft have I wondered."
"...Is this truly the path I shall walk?"
Himakiraṇ shifted her attention toward Adler once more, a gentle smile touching her worn lips as she witnessed the first hint of longing settle upon the woman's features.
The beginning of her journey to know her home.
Part 6, The Epilogue
Two months later.
Rokhā had grown quickly. Adler had found a suitable establishment in Shirogane where he could be watched whenever she needed to work, and where they might help train him when able. Whenever she returned to retrieve him, they journeyed across the Steppe time and time again, both learning and teaching one another.
The Olkund had received the herbs they had requested, and the girl for whom they had been gathered survived her sickness, returning to tend the herds as she once had. Adler even had the pleasure of speaking with her at Reunion, where trade bustled freely beneath the Qestir's watchful gaze.
She had learned to speak the Auri tongue most seemed to understand upon the Azim Steppe, while working diligently to learn the others she had come to recognize... even that of the Angura. The Steppe had called to her more and more, and eventually...
The words of the Jhānkri had come to pass.
Adler held a small pearl in the palm of her hand, one she had traded to reclaim after watching The Islander exchange it for a scrying glass. She had meant to return it to her... but instead kept it close, intending to carry it to the mountain's summit before placing it back into her hands.
Now, however, it was all that remained of the heart she had sought to hold.
The Islander had allowed her to keep it.
Himakiraṇ had told her that, when the truth came, Adler would have a decision to make.
In a tavern, Adler stepped upon the stage to sing-- yet the words would not come. It was then that she knew.
This was not where she would find her peace.
So she returned to the mountain.
It was there that she would find her resilience. It was, after all, where Azim, Nhaama, and Himadhara might witness her at her best. There, perhaps, she might earn her place among it all.
She lingered within the small cabin the Avragch tribe had built for her-- seated near the window, peering out over the distant Azim Steppe. Even the Dawn Throne was visible.
The pearl she had been told to keep now rested within a small necklace displayed upon a stand near her fishing equipment. Its pendant bore the likeness of a butterfly, formed from rough-set stones and colored gems, with the pearl nestled at its center.
Adler rested idly as she pondered the question Himakiraṇ had left her with... Yet her thoughts soon drifted toward the child she had surrendered to the mountain.
He still lived somewhere beyond its paths.
It had been, in part, why she had first come. But the Jhānkri had told her that she could never see him... never seek him out, nor allow her presence to touch his life, for doing so might bring imbalance to his spirit.
But what if...
Those thoughts were interrupted by a sudden crash behind her.
The young Rokhā had grown so much that, while he could still fit through the door, he did not seem to realize just how large he had become. He tipped the table over with ease, sending the wooden tableware clattering across the floor, a bowl spinning slowly to a stop.
"Must I bolt down the furniture as well? Ruffian!" Adler called from where she sat beside the window, leaning back with an amused smile.
Rokhā turned his great snout toward her and wiggled his head in defiance.
A soft laugh escaped Adler as she rose from the floor to set the table upright.
When evening came, Adler began the trek toward the nearby cave where she was to meet Himakiraṇ.
(Have you come to answer?)
"I have."
(What is your decision?)
"I wish to return home."
(Then you will make the ascent with your Dzo.)
"And only then I shall train."
(And what of the child you surrendered?)
"He shall be left to live his life with the tribe."
(You believe this?)
"I..."
(Thought so.)
"I did not know whether I would survive."
(It seems you will have another decision to make when that time comes.)
"Wouldst thou not stop me?"
(Why would I? You came all this way.)
"He must know a mother's love."
(Then earn your name... They will need to know what to call you when you bring shame upon it.)
"The Angura already know my name. It was merely given unto me by a different mountain."
Adler shuddered awake with her back to the cold cave floor, frost upon her breath. A dazing chill clung to her thoughts as she began to look around, recalling where she was. She struggled to turn onto her side-- arms shaking from just how deep the cold ran. Even with all the leather layers she wore, they felt incredibly thin.
She wasted little time rising to her feet and moving toward the maw of the cave, arms wrapped tightly against her as she brushed hard to warm herself.
The opening held a glow of brilliant white. The closer she came, the more it softened, until something of the cold world ahead made itself apparent.
The gentle, distant strings of an instrument seemed to touch upon her obsidian horns then, but only as the lingering haze of a fading dream.
The chilling gale was steady, and sleet brushed across the valley's features. She looked up, and there upon the high peaks beyond-- those which pierced the dark clouds-- snow decorated them in deep white.
And memories began to stir.
Silence settled as the valley faded from view, and the sight of distant mountain ranges began to fill her gaze in full. The sounds of distant booms. Awe lingered in her amber young eyes.
"Admiring the view again, child?" A low, chill voice came from behind, echoing from deeper within the cave.
Rebecca turned, her gaze widening at the sight of the woman who towered over her from the darkness.
Mother Vanta. Raven-black hair, pale skin, and a half-lidded crimson gaze-- all settled upon the small, patchwork Xaela before her. The Prototype Puppet. Rebecca Adler.
She was the smallest of them, the weakest, and the most docile. She was not as ambitious, cunning, strong, or witty as the others. She was simply a kind and curious girl.
Vanta looked back over the vast expanse of Dravania's ranges, where snow came down fast and the rumble of distant explosions could be felt in the quivering air.
"I have warned you of standing so close to the edge, Rebecca," Vanta said, firm.
"No. Edge..." the patchwork Xaela softly replied, walking back toward her and away from the opening. Her tail wrapped around her own leg, squeezing as though to keep herself from moving again.
"Yes," Vanta replied, shifting her gaze down toward the Xaela.
Rebecca wore barely anything beyond the robes she had been given, suited to her small, trembling frame. Yet here she was, standing as though she had no concept of the cold.
Rebecca turned to head back to where she was often called, then came that voice again.
"Do you know what they are called, child?" Vanta asked, placing a hand upon her hip, peering back toward the small girl, crimson eyes lingering in thought.
"Tall stones?" Rebecca said, turning back slowly to peer up toward Vanta.
Vanta watched her with a snort, then slowly turned her head with a sigh.
"Mountains. They are called mountains."
"Mountains," she said softly, moving back to stand beside her.
Beyond the opening, the mountains held with such certainty. There was no storm, nor wind, nor war that could shake them so. Even should the frost engulf them, they remained vast and unmoved. They had cemented themselves against the cruelty of the world and endured it. Kind they were, to remain beneath one's gaze and guide them home.
Rebecca stared out toward them, uncertain of just how far they ran.
"There is war just on the other side. You understand this, Rebecca?"
"Yes, Mother."
"And you understand why it is important that you stay within these caves?"
"Yes, Mother."
Then, for the briefest moment, as Vanta looked upon the small Xaela child-- stitched together from others, made into a tool for war-- something flashed in her eyes. It was gone in an instant.
"Return to your cell. There is more work to be done."
"Yes, Mother."
Adler watched the memory of her former self turn, recollection thick in her spine. The small, patchwork Xaela stepped through Adler and faded.
When she turned, only silence waited within. She squeezed herself tighter, turning her gaze back to the sleet-covered valley ahead.
Then she heard it again. It was no morin khuur, like the one she had heard upon the Steppe. She let the music linger upon her horns a moment longer before recalling it-- a familiar lute, foretold in Erdenetungalag's tomes.
The dranyen, she realized.
Thus did the music begin to pull her forward, out of the cave. She saw a trail cleared of sleet upon the grass, leading out toward where Rokhā was.
She found Rokhā sleeping beneath a dusting of snow. Relief settled in Adler's chest at the sight of her, safe after all that had happened.
As Adler approached, she slowed and turned to peer back up toward the cliffside, where she saw the two Bahādur high against the wall above. It was as though they had not left at all through the night, still as statues upon the stone.
Hilohaat was sleeping against the side of his stave, leaned into it and held there as he rested. Ucchamān was awake, watching her movements with his usual reserved curiosity.
She gave a wave, which Ucchamān returned with a simple raise of his hand before lowering it back down to his lap.
It was odd... Had they truly been there the whole night? Even so, they were practically covered in snow, so much so that they still seemed a part of the mountain.
That was when her gaze drifted back down toward the cave's opening maw, noting the two barren portions of grass at either end. There, she realized, was where they would normally keep their vigil.
Yet why, now, did they stand so high above it?
Understanding did not land upon her with certainty, not like the falling sleet. She turned and let the questions fall from her shoulders, approaching Rokhā.
As she came upon the great dzo's side, she realized someone else was there, too. A wooden rack came into view from around Rokhā's giant frame.
It was an elderly woman, bent beneath a doko-like carrying frame thick with foliage-- herbs, reeds, and larger plant stems settled in woven baskets, while smaller bowls and bundles hung from its sides. So much had been fastened upon her back that it nearly hid her entirely.
As she turned, a stone necklace came into view at her chest, and upon her head sat a thick, flat-topped fur cap adorned with various stones and gems.
There was a drum-like object strapped to her side, along with a sash adorned with more of the same stones. Her horns were black as obsidian, and her skin was a deep copper shade. Her gloved hands rested upon the very instrument Adler had guessed at, plucking along its six strings in slow rhythms.
Rhythms for Rokhā to listen to.
"Ah-- fair greetings unto thee," Adler chimed.
At that, the woman stopped playing. She slowly lowered the instrument to her side, then pulled a small black board from her sash and set it down against a stone.
The board was made of some kind of black wood. Burned, perhaps? From her sash, she drew a small piece of chalk and placed it into a holder fixed upon the board. Once more, she began to play-- slowly, with ever so slight moments of dissonance.
Adler was confused at first. She had questions to ask, yet more gathered with each passing moment.
Then Adler witnessed it: writing forming upon the board all on its own. With each word, the chalk seemed to burn away like ash.
Upon that board was a language Adler had never seen before, much less heard. It was then she realized it was likely what Hilohaat had spoken 'afore.
"Mine apologies-- I fear I do not--"
But then came Wrath's whisper, his hand placed upon her shoulder as his lips drew nearer to Adler's horn.
'It says... Foolishness,' Wrath began. 'Why does she say this?'
Confusion fluttered across Adler's features.
"What?..."
Yet her mind drew back to Hilohaat. She peered toward the cliffside and saw that he, too, had stirred awake to the playing.
She turned back, recalling her question from before. Her gaze flicked briefly to Wrath, whose cerulean gaze met her with a nod.
Then she faced the woman once more.
"Why do they not come? Art thou the Khatun?" Adler asked.
The woman paused... then chortled softly, her body bouncing with delight, before she began to play again. The chalkboard began to write once more.
'Too pretty to be Khatun,' Wrath repeated, as though the strange rhythms of her instrument had become a language all their own.
Yet something else lingered.
As the woman turned, her features appeared worn and tired, aged by time and effort. What struck Adler as most peculiar, however, were her golden limbals and deep black irises.
It was then Adler began to see it, as Wrath's influence came into sync with her own spirit.
A Snow Mountain Yeti. A spirit so vast that her eyes could barely hold the whole of it, leaning back as it loomed over them all. Its voice was made clear through the strums of the woman's instrument-- the very thing that allowed Wrath to understand.
"What is this?" Adler whispered in awe.
'You see this?' the board drew. Wrath translated it once more.
When Adler's gaze fell back to the woman, she followed the motion of her hands as they rested upon Rokhā, brushing carefully through the fur near her stomach-- aether dancing from her fingers.
Was there something Adler had not noticed?
Then she saw it, her gaze slowly acclimating to the sight. Within the beastkin, there was a warmth she had not seen before. Aether danced along the woman's fingers.
"She's..." Adler began.
'Yes,' Wrath concluded.
All this time?
The wind carried the soft musings of the instrument again. The writing upon the board continued as the Snow Yeti traced its finger across the black, and Wrath discerned it.
'She is asking us to retrieve the Tail Blue. South of here. Rokhā needs us.'
Adler paused, her gaze shifting toward Rokhā as her mind drifted back to Naranjargal's request.
"The poppy?"
'Yes.'
The woman began to play again, the leaves upon her back shifting as she peered toward Adler.
'The child needs warmth. I will provide.' Wrath read.
The woman turned back to Rokhā and set to work, pulling a bundle of wrapped sticks from the sash at her side and placing them carefully around the great dzo. Adler stood there, dumbfounded.
"Do we--"
'Yes.'
Then Adler began to move.
Was she truly to trust this woman she barely knew? She had given no name, nor spoken plainly of her purpose... Yet the Bahādur had not acted against her. Thus, it seemed best to presume they knew who she was.
"Foolishness..." Adler mused softly.
It seemed the woman had some idea who she was.
So much so that she had known this request would be an easy ask. Adler was never one to shy away from helping others. It had been, after all, dozens who had come to her aid ever since she left the frost spires of Ishgard. She owed it to them to ensure lives were saved and given a proper chance... just as she had been.
The snow began to fall with intent, and leaves brushed across Adler's ankles as she moved swiftly. She kept the route in mind, peeling a bit of bark from the trees each time she passed, that she might find her way back.
She had not thought she would need to return to any of these places, but she would not leave the mountain without Rokhā.
'Her spirit is large.' Wrath thrummed.
"It was," Adler chuckled, coming to a small cliff edge that led down into a narrow valley below.
'Do I also need to appear as a creature?'
"If it be thy wish. Mayhaps it would lessen thy off-putting nature to others, should they witness thee."
'I am not off-putting...' He protested.
"Not to me, nor Erdenetungalag, but I am certain thy presence brings some subtle discomfort to others..." Adler mused. "What animal dost thou think?"
She began to climb down, step by step, minding her footing and keeping a steady pace.
'What about the bird?'
"The Yol?" Adler asked, pausing to peer down and find another foothold, keeping to the less steep path in her descent.
'No. Other.'
Adler paused, blinking with some confusion as she peered down to see how far she had left to go... only to realize she was practically already at the bottom. She looked back up, realizing that even such a small climb had been daunting from below.
"Other?" Adler mused.
Then she realized. "Oh! The large one we witnessed. I had read of it in Erdenetungalag's tomes... The Great Lammergeier, I believe it was."
'Yes... That one. And that woman is strange. Her spirit is strange, too. She is dangerous.'
"Dost thou think so? Rather kind, I think."
'To what end?'
Adler prepared to leap down the rest of the way.
"Never figured thee to question these sorts of-- hmph!"
She landed upon the ground and dusted her hands off, only to look down at her gloves. They were badly worn from the stone and the journey thus far. A small huff left her.
"Uncertainties. Oft art thou so very confident."
'Perhaps my expectation of our duty has changed.'
"Hm... I suppose so."
'As has yours.'
Adler paused at that, peering through the brush and trees until she spotted a small clearing ahead-- a hill adorned with all manner of flora.
"Nay, I know where my heart lies..."
She pressed on.
The trees stood close together, their branches bowed beneath the weight of snow. Each step Adler took sank softly into the white, the sound swallowed almost as soon as it was made. There was no birdsong here, no distant call of beast or man-- only the hush of falling snow, drifting down in slow, soundless veils between the trunks.
It gathered upon her shoulders, caught in her hair, and dusted along the curve of her horns. It was cold and quiet, and getting colder and quieter.
As Adler approached, it felt as though the very light of the overcast sky had shone down, Azim basking the hill and its flowery garden in a brilliant silver ray.
Small Tail Mountain Poppies rested in their comfort, eased by the lack of sunlight, yet still fighting on to survive. Their stems were thick, like life held firm even beneath the brutal cold.
She held means to pluck a few-- and then she felt it, pausing to Wrath's coming voice.
'Stop. Something is here.'
Adler paused, peering down into the snow before lowering to a knee. She brushed the snow aside and realized... there was a trap placed beneath it. A small wire.
It was then she noticed the small indentations in the snow all around the hill. Was someone expecting this? Was it the Bahādur? The Hēryāhā?... Or something else?
"This trap is for animals," Adler concluded softly. "One that feeds upon this garden, perhaps?"
A soft hum of consideration followed. What creature would be so large as to warrant such a wide perimeter?
She carefully stepped over the trap and made slowly for the garden, kneeling down to gather a batch. The small buds swayed gently beneath the impact of falling snow. Then she plucked them slowly, one by one, her gaze swaying one way, then the next.
Suddenly a shadow passed overhead, and Adler barely caught it-- peering up to seek the skies, only for her gaze to catch upon the cliffside at the other end. There, a groaning wooden frame peeked into view over the edge.
Then, a glint.
'Incoming.'
Adler threw herself aside as a massive bolt cut through the air, missing her by a breath before slamming into the ground behind the hill. Dirt, snow, and petals burst upward, the force of it sending her skidding hard across the white.
As Adler pushed herself up, her gaze lingered on the sheer size of the bolt. A thick rope trailed from its end, leading back to where it had been fired from.
Then it began to reel back.
She turned her head toward the cliffside, realizing a gathering of Hrothgar had formed there. They did not seem happy. The ballista groaned as they prepared it again.
"O fuck." Adler chimed.
They were no Angura. Their thick furs and large statures spoke of well-seasoned hunters-- and of something even bolder than that. This trap had been laid for an animal, and they seemed wholly displeased to realize the bolt had been loosed upon a false feast.
As Adler peered up from the snow, their gazes turned toward her. Then, one by one, they began to scale down the cliffside on their end.
'Run!'
She quickly climbed to her feet and turned to run-- only for the vast black shadow to sweep across the skies above again, wings spread impossibly wide.
It gave them all pause.
The Hrothgar looked up at once, and whatever confidence had been in them seemed to vanish. They broke for the nearest trees as they reached the bottom, ducking beneath the boughs while others kept low, moving swiftly from trunk to trunk.
Adler turned and looked skyward.
The black shape carved through the air with astonishing grace despite its immense size, its passage smooth and certain, as though the winds themselves bore it willingly.
"Nhaama..." she whispered.
Then she hurried to press herself behind the trunk of a nearby pine, following whatever it was the Hrothgar were doing.
'That is it! It is hunting!' Wrath said excitedly.
"It's hunting us!" Adler hissed in return-- only to gasp when she realized the Hrothgar were still closing in on her position. At once she turned and began to run.
From overhead, the Great Lammergeier gazed down upon them all, tracking their movements through the wood by every fleeting glimpse of motion where they gave themselves away. Then it drew in its wings and dove.
The sound of it was dreadful. For something so massive to fall so swiftly made the air itself shriek around it, whistling with incredible force as it plummeted toward the earth below.
As it neared the treeline, its wings expanded once more to catch its weight-- sending the pines groaning and bending beneath the sudden violence of displaced air. Snow burst from the branches in great white plumes. Some trunks swayed so sharply that those hiding beneath them were revealed for but a moment.
That moment was enough.
Great talons slammed down with crushing force, pinning one of the Hrothgar beneath its weight before lifting once more in a spray of red and white.
The man did not move after.
Yet it was not finished. Blood marked the snow in violent streaks, as though the kill had been no more than a single bite to satisfy only the barest hint of its hunger.
"Gods..." Adler breathed, peering out from behind the bark. Her eyes lifted to follow the creature's movement, to the sweep of those vast dark wings, and finally to that great yellow eye edged in red glaring down upon the wood below. "The Apex..."
There was no time to think, only intention. Thus, she moved from bark to bark, holding to measured movement as best she could.
Adler was not faster than the Hrothgar. They seemed almost perfectly suited to moving through this kind of environment, while she was clumsy, uneven, and half-blind to the subtle paths beneath the snow. More than once, her foot caught wrong and sent her stumbling, earning only Wrath's sharp rebuke.
'Mind thy feet!'
"I am trying!" Adler snapped back.
One Hrothgar drew nearer, his thick stripes white and grey, his eyes narrowed with open annoyance. She had disturbed something she was not meant to yet again, she realized. It was likely they had been hunting a creature... But with what bait?
Then, from the hill where she had gathered the poppies, the soil began to rise.
Adler's eyes widened.
It was no hill.
Snow and earth rolled away in heavy sheets as the flowered mound lifted from beneath them. Roots pulled and snapped, clinging to moss and hide. The Tail Blue Poppies trembled upon the crown of it, small and delicate against the great shape stirring beneath the frost.
A Great Mountain Goobbue rose from the snow, its low rumbling call shaking loose the powder from nearby branches. Its mouth opened wide in a thunderous bellow, great enough that Adler felt it in her chest. The garden had been alive! She had nearly made herself its meal.
The Hrothgar had known. They had laid a trap for the Lammergeier, waiting for it to descend upon its true hunt-- the Goobbue. She had simply wandered into the middle of it, plucked what she needed from the creature's very head, and spoiled the hunt besides.
Adler turned to face the approaching Hrothgar, watching as he rushed her on all fours. Then an arrow struck his side. She had not the time to seek from where it had come, but it made him flinch long enough for her to react.
She dashed back toward the nearest trunk-- but then that horrific whistle sounded through the air again. The trees parted. Light flashed before Adler's eyes, and a white-and-black shadow suddenly surrounded them both.
In an instant, the Hrothgar was there... and then he was not in a cloud of white and red.
The force alone sent Adler flying back, rolling through the snow until she struck the bark of a tree. It was near the end of her momentum, sparing her from worse injury, but the impact still stole the breath from her... At least, until she peered down and realized a sharp piece of bark had pierced her side, snapped free, and lodged itself within her.
"Hngh!"
She was tired. She had not eaten and was running on little more than fumes. As she peered up, she saw some of the Hrothgar trying to bring the Goobbue down, while others made for Adler. A few more worked to draw the Lammergeier's attention toward a nearby clearing.
That distraction seemed to work. The Lammergeier sent itself diving once more with incredible speed, slamming down into the snow with enough force to shake the ground beneath her. The Hrothgar scattered and rolled away from its strike, narrowly avoiding the talons while keeping the beast from reaching their allies.
The remaining four continued tracking Adler, making swift pace through the snow.
Adler clumsily climbed back to her feet and made for the cliff wall, staggering as pain writhed through her side. As she neared the cliff, however, she realized she did not have the strength to climb. Not now.
Her hand pressed against the wound. For a moment, she considered pulling the bark free-- then thought better of it. Whatever blood it held back, she could not risk loosing now.
She searched quickly for any other path up the wall, but found nothing. The stone was steep, slick with growing frost, and mercilessly bare.
As the tailing Hrothgar closed in, Adler looked to her bloodied hands. She would have to face him, she knew. Her hand lowered to her side over Rosewind, preparing to call forth Wrath's fury... She would not have the strength to do this alone.
Then something fell from the cliff-- A woven rope rolled down from above and dangled once.
She moved to catch it quickly and pulled, scaling up the wall. For the briefest moment, she saw Ragahāwā's gaze peering over the edge-- then he vanished from sight.
A short way up, a Hrothgar reached the base and seized the rope, trying to wrench it free with Adler still upon it. Another joined him. The line jerked violently, and Adler's feet slipped from the stone, kicking through empty air before she slammed herself back against the cliff face.
Pain surged through her side. Her fingers tightened.
Still, she climbed.
Then that black shadow cast itself upon her.
Adler knew it was coming. She quickly turned outward and threw herself to the side, one hand clinging tight to the rope as a massive talon struck where she had been. The cliff shattered beside her, sending fragments of rock scattering through the air-- while the sheer force of the Lammergeier's wingspan sent the Hrothgar below stumbling back in a gale.
Adler clung desperately to the rope.
'Jump.'
The intent came naturally. As she swung back, Adler leapt for the Lammergeier's massive leg just as its beak struck the stone where she had been. As it began to fall back, its wings caught its weight.
Adler threw her arms around the Lammergeier's massive leg, her scaled tail coiling tight around it a breath later. With all she could muster, she held fast as it took flight, carrying her upward along the cliffside.
'Get ready.'
Higher and higher it rose, until the cliff ledge began to pass beneath her.
'Leap!'
And Adler leapt out.
The gust of the creature's wings sent her aside, her arms reaching out to catch the top of a nearby tree. She struck the boughs hard, sliding down through snow-dusted branches and rough bark until she caught herself among the limbs, breath hitching as she clung there.
She swayed in the air, back and forth, as the momentum of the branches slowly began to still. The tree creaked beneath her weight, shuddering once before settling. For a moment, dizziness stirred in Adler's mind, though it slowly subsided as the world steadied around her.
Adler opened her eyes and peered out across the vast valley-- a seemingly endless trail of bark and mountain. She watched the great Lammergeier make another sweep across the skies before diving toward the small clearing below, where the sounds of battle cries rose to meet the apex.
The mountains had witnessed her after all.
When the moment passed, she slid back down to the bottom, tail flicking with excitement, though her expression remained focused. Heightened. Her gaze shimmered with a golden glow, one hand pressing to her side. Her feet touched the ground with the crunch of snow beneath.
"He saved us..." she said softly.
After a brief respite, she began to walk again.
The trek back had been far simpler. The marks she had left upon the wood had done well to guide her, but her mind could not stop dwelling upon the hunt, nor the pain at her side-- the wooden bit still jutting out.
'Suppressing what I can. It is deep.'
"Yes..." Adler said, a slight sway in her step as tender drops of scarlet fell from wood to snow.
Her mind swayed slowly, her gaze often darkening in the white. Yet she pressed onward-- for the Islander, for Rokhā, for Wrath... and for herself.
When she finally arrived, she found that a small shelter had been erected. Beneath it, a small flame bloomed, its warmth caught and held beneath the covering. A few sticks of incense burned in a perimeter around Rokhā, their smoke curling softly into the falling snow.
There were snow trails from the cliffside, making it apparent that the Bahādur had come down to assist. They had built the shelter for the woman and Rokhā both.
"What is this...?" Adler spoke softly, weary and barely aware.
'A ward...'
Adler approached slowly, a burden in her step. The odd woman still bore her rack, though less of its greenery remained now that much of it had been fed to Rokhā. It seemed to have eased her-- her breaths were heavy, but calm.
As the woman turned to take in Adler, she reached a hand out expectantly. For a moment, Adler did not realize what she wished for. Then fear struck her-- had she lost them?
With some hesitance, her hand dug into her satchel... and slowly pulled free the poppies. Some were crushed, others still whole. It did not seem to matter.
Adler brought them to her, placing them upon her palm. The woman's fingers curled to embrace them, and she immediately returned to the flame.
There, a small pot was heated with water within. Her hands worked swiftly to churn the roots and a few of the petals, taking a small mortar and pestle to grind them down. A small powder of ash was added, and then, finally, the mixture was gently tossed into the small cauldron. She stirred it for a time...
And Adler collapsed to the floor.
In her haze, she mustered the strength to open her eyes once more from the ground, watching as the woman placed the pot into the snow to let it cool. Then she brought a bowl to Rokhā, allowing her to drink.
And then, she came to Adler.
A hand brushed into Adler's thick hair, raising her just enough to drink as well.
The warming sensation felt heavenly. It settled first upon her tongue, then deep within her chest, spreading through the cold places where her strength had begun to fail. Her eyes closed for a moment more.
When she opened them again, she witnessed the stark red behind Rokhā-- the sight of a miracle.
A son had been born.
The small thing trembled against the grass, wet with birth and warmth, his little stump horns set upon his head like the first promise of something mighty. His legs kicked beneath him, uncertain and stubborn, trying already to find the strength to stand.
Rokhā turned her great head toward him, weary and low, yet alive. The woman moved with steady ease, tending mother and child with practiced care. The incense drew slow strings of smoke. The small flame flickered on. Snow fell steadily around them, but not a flake touched the newborn where the shelter kept him warm.
Adler stared through half-lidded eyes, unable to rise, unable to speak. She had carried the medicine back for him. For them.
Did a great job with Mourn and Dreamer! Personally I love how the background came out. A nice little piece where Mourn shows Dreamer the flower she named her after - Valeria
The Tail Mountains were known to harbor some of the fiercest storms in all the realm, especially among the high valleys scattered throughout, where the elements flurried on without regard. This was their domain, and any caught within their grace would find their fury writ upon the mountain faces, where strikes of lightning left their marks.
As the skies darkened, the rumbling of the coming storm shook the land. Brilliant flashes hissed through the air, followed by deafening cracks from the heavens above. When silence began to fail once more, static swelled in its place...
And then the torrential rain came.
The downpour swept in with a sideways gale, slamming against Adler's features as Rokhā raced through the muddied path. The Lightning Sprites flickered and swirled in an unkempt flurry, sending levin bolts against a nearby tree.
Bark stripped clean from its trunk. The massive pine cracked, and came tumbling down.
Rokhā veered swiftly, narrowly avoiding the crown of the falling tree, and Adler clung tight upon the thick fur of her back, ducking beneath the bolts flashing all around them as sparks and embers burst from the trees.
Adler had at first thought the lightning hailed from above, but it seemed the Lightning Sprites here were just as eager to whisk about to the fury of the skies in shimmering cracks.
She was in no position to face them upon their battleground.
Adler would have prayed for mercy, but she knew not the words to say, nor if they would be heard amidst the stormy Galemaw Valley.
There seemed to be no end to the valley-- until at last she spotted a narrow crevasse nestled at the base of the cliff face, promising refuge from the storm.
She had lost track of the main path some time ago and hoped this was the right way.
A sonic boom of an explosion rang out as another Lightning Sprite made a sharp strike toward the mountain, erupting the stone into a collapsing flurry down to the valley below.
The forces of this region were incredibly fierce and unwavering. It was fortunate the cave ahead had not been blocked by the falling stone.
The valley grew colder as the night drew on, and Adler-- soaked through-- had little time before the frost began to settle.
Rokhā rushed for the maw of the cave, while Adler pulled the Crystal Catalyst from her belt and held it out to light their way into the darkness.
As they passed the entrance, she felt the sense of gazes set upon her; she turned her head back, but saw no one.
Together, they slowed within the depths of the cave, soaked and weighted by the turmoil that had been thrust upon them.
Adler shifted and fell to the floor with a thud, trying to catch her breath as she looked around at the clearing of stone. The cave went further in, but there were no signs of death. They were safe, for now. Rokhā lowered herself to rest, looking at Adler as though she knew something that she did not.
"Mine apologies, Rokhā... The rains here come far faster than I am used to."
And they settled there, catching their breaths and letting the water upon their forms fall away.
Finally, when Adler rose to her feet and approached Rokhā again. It was only at that moment she realized that, at some point, the pack upon her back had fallen.
Gone were the equipment she had brought. She now bore only her satchel and Rosewind, the blade tight in its bindings at her side.
A soft curse left her lips as she turned crystal out to peer back toward the cave entrance, watching the drizzle of water meet the ground hard, trickling into the depths.
The water accumulated on the other side of the cave, forming a small river that continued further down within. A soft sigh escaped her as she peered back toward the darkness, a sense of dread stirring in her chest.
It seemed she would have no choice but to use her own aether here, lest there be some manner of crystal within that might help her. She looked to Rokhā, soaking wet and trembling.
She seemed more tired than usual, yet brave enough to carry Adler this far.
Wrath's essence pulled at something within her chest. Even she seemed to have grown to care for the beastkin.
Aligned as they were then, she turned toward the dark and began to make the descent. If there was a chance she might kindle a flame down there, she owed it to Rokhā to try.
The gentle drops of water slipped from the stalactites overhead, making small ripples across those otherwise still pond surfaces upon the floor.
The reflection of Adler's crystal shimmered as she passed, the dark seeming as though it were trying to close in on her.
'I feel another' Wrath warned.
"Voidsent?" Adler whispered, stopping in place beyond where they could see a colorful light ahead around a corner.
'No' Wrath returned.
Slowly, Adler began to approach the illumination, her steady steps carrying the weight of her motion with gentle crunches of grit.
When she peeked around the corner, it was then she witnessed the brilliance of iridescent crystal. They lined the wide walls, the high ceiling, even the very solid ground, save for a small path that had been made... and Sprites that hovered there to protect them-- each tending to their preferred domain.
She peered back down the path she had come, her own crystal still lighting much of her way. Adler would not need it here, not until she needed to leave.
Her steps echoed softly, then came to a pause at the sight of a series of marked maroon vases lining the base of crystal bundles. They had been packed and sealed, their contents unknown to her, but she left them best undisturbed, as she had learned previously.
Then the tremor of her stitches came-- the thin aetheric threads upon her skin. A soft gasp escaped her as she lowered her crystal. The crystalline clusters in the room held just enough light to keep the cave dim and leave her obscured.
Something was lurking in the dark beyond them, drawing an incredible spiritual influence.
Adler deemed it best to remain cautious. She crouched and leaned against a nearby stone, peering over the edge... and slowly, she reached down into her satchel to pull out a bundle of soaked reeds.
'It is not of the void. How boring...'
Adler came to a nearby bundle of fire crystals, lowering to a knee to cast her aether forth, calling the flames to catch to the reeds.
The warmth resounded and dried the reeds slowly, before catching flame. What was, perhaps, odd, was the ashy mist produced by the reeds-- casting out toward the cave and catching her eyes with a sudden burn.
"Hng!" Adler's breath hitched as she collapsed back.
It stung and watered her eyes. Adler tried to open them once more, but the sensation burned, and she writhed on the ground as the cave began to twirl and spin.
The crystals upon the walls had turned into faces she did not recognize at first, each witnessing her with crystalline stares of judgment.
Atyla's grief-stricken smile. "T'was not thy intention, yet thou hadst held the blade."
Th'essa's dire eyes sharpened. "Left me t' die in exchange fer yar own stitched skin."
Wither's chilling gaze. "Fed upon my soul till there was nothing left."
"Who is next?" They said, in unison.
"It was not my intention..." Adler quivered, recalling the desperation of every moment.
In those eyes, she looked to them all for a mercy that would not come.
Then she settled upon a face that she did not know. A face that bore limbals of spectacular sunset, horns of obsidian, and autumn locks.
It was her mother's own.
Not the adoptive one of the cold, harsh spires of Ishgard, but of the Tail Mountains. How steely her eyes were, how firm her composure, and how kind her worn smile appeared then.
"Kneel, child." Her voice came, whispered and rasped as Adler's own. "The trial comes."
Then, in the mist -- out from the shade of the darkness, the rumble began. It was that of a beating drum, sending forth pulses of aether through the cave.
Like a symphony of fluttering flashes, rings of light pulsed across the stone walls from ahead and back where she had come.
Again and again, in rhythmic fashion.
Backward feet came into view ahead, crystalline light shimmering upon them. At first, she thought someone was walking backward-- until she saw the furred, humanoid figure that had appeared before her.
Dreadlocks hung deep with age, thick and heavy. Large piercings adorned a face that seemed weighed down by years, and his strong body was covered in thick furs and feathers that dragged along the floor, sounding like the trickle of rain.
"Nhaama..." Adler shuddered softly.
And words began to boom from his lips.
"तँले सन्ध्यालाई देख्छौ।
वनले पहाडको श्वास बोकेको छ र यो हाम्रो गीत हो।
तिमीलाई दिइएको आत्मामा विश्वास गर, नहामाकी छोरी।"
In that moment, Adler felt the tightness in her muscles, the chill of the air digging into her skin, unable to look away.
As the entity approached, every beat of the drum sent a twitch through her. With all her strength, she clutched the burning reeds tightly and raised them toward the creature.
Only then did she see just how wide its eyes were.
Wrath, for the first time, stood outside of Adler's form, witnessing the trance. She had been cast away from her, a sense of freedom filling her own lungs.
At last.
She turned back toward the exit and began to run-- her pale skin stark against the dark. Her steps felt lighter than she remembered, and the floor did not feel so solid, yet she moved with quickened steps.
And as she reached the maw of the cave, there she saw Rokhā, and... a warmth within her. It was getting colder by the moment. The drums' pulses were still echoing from behind, shaking the cave, sending those thrums of white light forward.
A memory came then.
"Kahit saan ako - hahanapin ko ikaw."-- Wherever I am, I will find you.
Adler had heard once.
Wrath had learned the meaning of it, and the weight of memory began to bloom.
And Wrath remembered her name then. His own true name.
In the distant autumn fields of a realm Wrath could scarcely remember, he was settled beside a woman who resembled Wither-- she whom he had killed not a few months prior.
Why was she here, with him?
The hunter, Wither, and the hunted, Wrath. That is what he remembered... And yet?
Beneath the bark, their hands were held. They conversed of the coming dark, the war, and what they would do when he would go fight for them.
She wore a beautiful dress of blue, as deep as her eyes, partially covered by lavender locks.
He had worn his finest garb, properly fitted and crafted of exquisite fabrics, but he was no noble, just one who played the part well enough.
"When the war is over, will you find me again, will you not Cian?"
Cian raised his hand with hers, pressing his lips to the back of her hand. His voice-- his own voice -- was warm, returning her words and easing the mind. A mutual exchange of earnest dreams for the future.
"Bláth, there is no war that could keep me from you. My love will reach you no matter the distance."
Then Wrath returned to that stark, chilling cave, the cold snap instant.
The memory shattered.
Standing alone in the hungering emptiness again, feeling that dreadful pull to the void.
"Bláth..." Cian said in a shaken breath, the vapor rising from his lips.
Wrath had eaten her to keep Adler and himself alive.
A sacrifice.
Did she know? All this time?
In the end, they had found one another.
If he set foot out into the valley, he would not be leaving just Adler to die, but Rokha and her child. And how much more could others bear to lose? How much could he?
This realm had made him soft.
His fist tightened and the surge of fury boiled within. That coward, that coward Angura! She deserved to die beneath the mountain. This is what she wanted, is it not?
But Wrath does not abide.
He turned. Swiftly, he turned and danced through the shadows like he were a part of them.
As he came closer to the crystalline fields within, there he bore witness to the strange gale-wrought entity beyond. It had entrapped the mind of the girl and drawn her into inaction.
But Wrath drew closer still. The nearer he came, the greater the force that fought to keep him back. Each pulse of light drove him away, a resounding trumpet call blaring with every strike-- yet he was not deterred.
He leaned forward and reached his hand out toward her.
Closer. Away. Closer. Away-- Closer still.
Adler's eyes were shut, whispering soft prayers to every god she knew.
Wrath understood in that moment why Bláth had sacrificed herself for them. It had been Adler who wished for her to live, after all.
The drumming grew quicker, knocking Wrath back from his stance-- but still he pressed forward. Adler had begun to close consciousness, arms at her sides, the flame slowly losing its light.
"We have not come this far to die now!"
And the wrath ignited, bursting like a brilliant, malevolent flame that fought back the force, the light of Wrath's rage casting back against the ravenous gale.
"This one is mine!!"
He transformed into the vulture beastkin of the skies, taking the form of a Lammergeier as he surged forth against the galeforged dark and collided into Adler's back--
Two souls, as one.
"We rise."
The instinct returned, kicking her feet back and pulling herself away from the entity. Adler stumbled to her feet, blind and unable to see-- but raising up nonetheless. The pull to act continued to come.
"We must turn. We must run."
She briefly opened her eyes. The cave still swirled and spun around her, reflections of herself shifting within the walls, while the fire in her hands burned brighter as she made for the exit.
"Trust our path. We sense the light ahead."
And Adler trusted that guidance. She felt it-- the pull of where to turn, where to run, and at last, when to settle. Her eyes remained tightly shut, still burning from the mist deeper within the cave... But she had no need of them here.
Wrath guided her forth until, in her exhaustion, she collapsed beside Rokhā, panting heavily upon the floor.
Two Angura stood at the entrance of the cave, simply watching from afar. In silence, they looked to one another.
When Adler finally looked up, they were gone. Yet she had felt their presence, if only for a moment.
Eventually, the storm had finally passed.
There Adler set the reeds down upon a bundle of fabrics she could spare, leaving them to burn for a time as she traversed back out into the wet dark, still not entirely certain what had happened in the cave.
Each time she returned, she carried a new bundle of sticks to feed the flame, drying them before casting them into the fire. Eventually, a proper blaze burned within the cave, and she had even managed to recover a few spare furs and a waterskin that had fallen from the pack during their initial hurried arrival.
She walked through the dark with the Crystal Catalyst floating above her hand, raised high as she watched the Angura following her from afar, always keeping her within their sights. Yet again, they did not approach. They seemed less concerned with being seen and more intent on making their presence known.
These Angura were larger, broad-shouldered figures armored in thick leather, stone, and mud. The only reason she noticed them at all were the limbal rings of their eyes glinting through the darkness.
Whenever she tried to approach them, they kept their distance, never allowing her too close. She had hoped they might guide her toward food, but she had managed to find a few berries on her own.
Her thoughts drifted back to Amelie and her scholarly words-- how to identify them...
It had been a long time since she had thought of The Sharlayan.
What might she say of all this?
"Addie, you can't just go sauntering off into the mountains!"
And then Amelie would have insisted someone go with her. She would be certain of it.
A soft chuckle escaped Adler as she identified the berry and began to eat beneath the shrub.
Once she returned with a final bundle of sticks and logs, she watched Rokhā grazing outside the cave, seemingly content with their newfound little hub. It seemed she was warm enough to get back on her feet.
As Adler approached the cave, she peered up along the cliff wall and realized there were three Angura settled against it, looking down over her. Each held a strange pole dug into the mountain stone, keeping them steady. They were like sentinels etched upon the stone.
She gave them a wave, accidentally dropping a few of the sticks that she promptly moved to pick up.
One on the left laughed, raising a hand to wave back.
The thinner lithe one at the center swatted him against the chest, and soon the other on the right was laughing as well.
There was a sway in her tail then. She liked these ones much more... They had not attacked her. Then again, she had not disturbed their sacred grounds, so perhaps it had been less their wish and more a honed duty.
"Timi kina yeti anautho dekhinchau?" the Angura upon the left asked.
"Pray, I do not understand..." Adler called up, her rasp making it difficult to truly call back.
They seemed to discuss something among themselves, particularly with the one at the center. He was not like the other two, Adler realized, but similar to those who had attacked her upon the ridge, she surmised. He had joined them? For what purpose?
"I am..." The one on the left paused, glancing back toward the center figure for confirmation. When it came, he straightened and spoke louder. "Hilohaat!"
Hilohaat was adorned in heavier leathers, his skin just as rustic in tone as the other two. His features were sharp and prominent, and he seemed as though he smiled often.
Then he gestured toward the one on the far right, who spoke up quickly. "Ucchamān."
In contrast, Ucchamān appeared more measured, though not displeased-- more curious than anything. Both were of equal stature and might.
Hilohaat pointed to Ucchamān, then to himself, extending both arms outward to show just how broad their figures were, and how mighty their scales appeared beneath the leather at their chests.
"Bahādur... Warriors!!!" They each smiled wide and proud.
The one in the center seemed displeased, gazed fixed upon Adler. Then he too spoke.
"Ragahāwā," he said, beating a hand against his chest. "Hēryāhā."
Ragahāwā was lithe and smaller than the other two, his features painted and his attire more decorated with feathers and cloth than leather, though some leather was still present. These were the marks of the very kind of Angura that Adler had met at the cliffside, she was certain now.
What distinguished him most was the size of his horns. They were smaller, but more plentiful upon him. Six small horns, Adler counted.
Then Ragahāwā gestured downward. "What name?"
Adler spoke their names softly after each introduction, then stammered for a moment and straightened. She was not sure whether she should drop the sticks, but she bowed, then spoke when she rose.
"Adler, of the Angura."
The other two's expressions dropped, though the Hēryāhā seemed already aware.
"Not true name?" Hilohaat asked.
"N-Nay. I have come to claim it."
Then they seemed to speak among themselves in words she still did not understand. It was not like the Old Auri of the Steppe. Whatever was said appeared to concern the one at the center, though the other two seemed entirely unconvinced.
There was one word that continued to repeat.
Jhānkri.
Now, as she sat by the flame, she could still hear their voices just beyond the cave maw-- until they grew quieter and quieter.
She would remain within the cave until the remnants of the storm had passed and night gave way. Without the oak rod, she would have to find what she could from the land.
Leaning exhausted against the cave wall, she hugged her knees, peering toward the dark, then back toward the cave opening as her eyes grew heavy.
There was but one thought lingering in her mind, and it alone found her lips.
"Hm, Wrath?" she mused softly, "Who is Cian?"
But Wrath did not respond, and Adler drifted once more to sleep, her thoughts dwelling on the snowy mountain peaks as she wondered of the name that awaited her.
What am I to do, O Moon?
Thou hast brought unto me this uncertainty.
How darest thou do this to me?
Balance was mine, I earned it. Yet this place ...
It claws for that which I buried.
Yet I await it in eager anticipation.
Is this truly my decision?
Or am I simply so gullible to believe it?
What say ye, O Moon?
To have survived all that I have--
Only to come to this place to die?
Is this truly my calling?
This woman in all her wisdom.
There is naught I can do but listen.
We grovel and kindle the flame
But neither of us wish to burn.
Answer me, O Moon!
I am here before thee and I hear naught.
Yet do thy hands guide my actions?
When I stand upon the summit
Will you speak my name?
What will I have to answer for?
Am I to accept the sin within?
Where is the Spring I was promised?
Black waters upon thee, O Moon.
May the dire chill burn within my flames.
Let the rivers scorn thy flesh.
May crow's wings take flight.
Let bloom wither into ash.
Let the dial turn at last.
This name is mine to take.
And upon my name, there shall be pain.
"Rumination is the psychological habit of repetitively dwelling on negative thoughts, past scenarios, or distressing emotions without reaching a resolution"
Let me believe the world is as it is seems.
It's not that deep, and it isn't more than make believe.
These moments I am most human, but it's daunting.
My mind gets into it with itself about truest intentions.
I have a hard time trusting people because people are untrustworthy.
This is not true for everyone, and I have a hard time believing that.
There is a part of me that wishes I was as firm and unyielding.
But then I know it wouldn't be me, and so I'll cry for both of us.
I hope there is a comfort that I bring, but I couldn't possibly know.
These actions are all I have to go by, and thus do they weight heavy.
Memories are plenty and they've painted this canvas black.
All colors of the spectrum built a piece I call rumination.
So I will dot the piece with bits of light, those friends of mine.
I know you're trying, and I hope you know I'm trying too.
Ever since I set foot upon the grounds just outside my Order's Estate, I knew not how far I could go. A deep sense of fear riddled itself through my stitched skin, and so I remained. I thought--had I left, would I be forgotten? Would I lose all that I had fought to create? Would my destination become my ruination?
Yet it is not so.
Luwalhati entrusted within me the courage and warmth to try. Senkyo fortified the will within my soul to act. Sarva set rhythm and balance to my form, that I might survive. Erdenetungalag taught me of the land from which I hail. The Stormslayers and Avragch Tribe granted me reprieve when I needed it most. All who had intercepted my path led me forth into ascent, that I might reach the summit.
"I hope you find what you are looking for," Luwalhati had once said.
And this is where my mind began to wane. Long have I suffered under the weight of a puppet's strings, heeding to the tasks given unto me. It is etched into my skin, and I wear it as a reminder of my distant past. False purpose. I bore not the choices of my own accord, yet after years of suffering-- now I bear this freedom in my soul to choose.
I may decide my own purpose.
And what have I chosen, at last?
As I ponder this question within my abode, this newly established cabin of mine by aid of the Avragch Tribe... what is it that I seek to find amidst these lands? I peer out unto the vast expanse of the Tail Mountains and Steppe beyond... I am filled with a sense of overwhelming grief. Where does The Marionette belong, now that no strings remain? Who is she now?
I pray to Gods who are not mine.
I stand amidst lands that do not know my name.
I grew used to the bitter cold of Coerthas.
I long for the certainty of splendorous love.
My path had led me here and for what? For what, I ask?
Because there is purpose here. I have seen it so.
I am here to prove my worth before whichever Gods may see,
That I may pray unto their grace and claim the name taken from me.
That I may survive the staggering frost and find my warmth again.
And that, by Nymeia's grace, I may return to my dearest Hearth in the end.
I will stand upon the precipice, resolute beneath the heavens, as a testament to those who have suffered.
Then shall I learn the path of spirits, and seek to ease thine at thy side.
Limsa Lominsa's morning waves brushed softly against the sandy shores of the Mists. Fishing vessels drifted out across the sea for their morning catch while gulls wheeled overhead, their cries carried upon the ocean breeze. The bamboo-paneled door of the humble abode slid open, welcoming the warmth of the sun's rays and the gentle, salt-laced air.
Adler stirred slowly beneath the thin covers of the bed, settled in contentedness after another fruitful evening of feast and conversation. It felt far different from the dreary, damp room she once claimed back at the Artifact Tavern. There was a different kind of life here.
Her attention was pulled by the gentle brush of the air, and she turned just enough to peer back toward the doorway.
And there she was.
Arms crossed, leaning against the frame-- her dearest Hearth.
The warmth upon her bronze skin made her seem as though she were the very morning itself. Her hair fell along her back in long, untamed waves, thick and full, draping over the strength of her form. Her white scales and horns caught in that glimmering light. Was she smiling? Adler could not yet tell, and amidst the quiet of the morning, she lingered there, quietly undone by the sight.
Glory and splendor.
Adler parted her lips to speak. That warm gaze turned--
but before they could meet...
She awoke again.
The crisp, cool air kissed Adler's cheek, chasing away the last traces of warmth that had lingered from that dream. The rising sun had begun to touch the high peaks of the mountains, though it had yet to reach the valley where she lay.
The furs and leathers granted to her by the Olkund tribe had kept her well through the night, and Rokhā's presence had been felt for most of it... Though now she had moved nearer to the treeline, stomping and huffing at something just beyond the trees.
The instinct to remain still, a lean to fear settled in Adler-- But she did not allow it to hold, nor would Wrath. She broke from it, reaching for her rapier beside the extinguished campfire and climbing to her feet.
For a brief moment, Adler studied her surroundings-- the babbling of the nearby river, the shrubs and reeds she had plucked the previous night, and the hushed stirring of brush caught in the morning wind. Only then did she ensure nothing had gone missing. It would not have been the first time something had been taken from her camp-- but this did not seem to be the case here. Whatever had drawn Rokhā's attention, Adler could not yet see, but she trusted her judgment.
She cautiously approached the treeline and raised her Crystal Catalyst high, the glowing crystal casting its light forth into the still morning dark. Still, she saw nothing and guided Rokhā back toward the camp.
It seemed it was time to move on, she decided. She quickly crouched beside her things, bundling them into a tight fabric spiral and hoisting them atop Rokhā. Once secured, she grasped the beast's fur, scaled her side, and swung herself into the saddle, settling in.
"Ch-ch." The sound slipped from Adler's lips.
With a sharp jerk forward, they moved once more, and Adler kept her gaze fixed upon the treeline as they passed-- seeing nothing but walls of pine hemming the valley.
"What had that been?" she wondered.
The path here was difficult to follow. This particular stretch seemed far less traveled. They had even begun to peel away from the river, heading further into the valley toward a gentle ascent.
The sounds of the river were not far, and the otherwise quiet whispers of the wind upon Adler's obsidian horns told little secrets-- like where beasts, far more hungry than she, dwelled amidst the wood. They would make certain to avoid those telling howls.
Her golden limbals often lingered on things she had never seen-- like the Giant Mountain Bees, who fiercely guarded their massive cliffside hives, or the Great Lammergeier beastkin high above, ever watchful as it encircled prey.
She often wondered if it had seen her, or understood her place here. Perhaps it judged whether she was worthy-- or considering her for its next meal.
They eventually came upon a discernible path, one that had been walked some time before. It was a subtle thing, but Rokhā followed it for a long time and Adler trusted her then too.
Adler turned and leaned to gaze back along the path behind them, finding little indication that they were being followed. A swift little creature darted into view for but a moment-- then it was gone in an instant. It might have been running from something, and for that, she was glad they were heading this way.
The path continued up along the mountainside, climbing gradually as it wound beside the ridge. Ahead, it curved outward along the cliffside, and it was there Adler spotted some kind of stone pillar decorated with fluttering flags.
"Rok!" Adler chimed, and Rokhā slowed to a halt. She turned and looked around once again, but saw no sign of other markers, nor any telltale signs of recent passage. The quiet breeze in the air gave her no pause for concern.
When she gathered her courage, she slowly climbed down from Rokhā's back, her sandals crunching against the gravel of the ridge path.
Adler moved to inspect the oddity further. She brushed a hand along Rokhā's forehead, pulling a bundle of reeds from her satchel-- those she had gathered by the river-- and offered them to the beast. Rokhā seemed to enjoy the strange taste, though Adler had tried them herself and did not enjoy them. She was glad one of them seemed to.
Then she made for the pillar.
Each step gave a gentle crunch as she drew nearer... and as she did, the valley opened before her. Azim's light stretched across the valley, casting renewed beauty over the land below. The surrounding peaks cradled it as though it were a babe.
It astonished Adler just how vast it was. Had she crossed all that? Truly?
She turned then to the stone pillar, realizing it was far larger and more intricate than she had first believed. It towered high into the air, standing firm against the elements. So weathered was it that time itself seemed etched into every stone mounted there, the lower portions worn oldest by the passing years.
As she looked upon the shrine, she saw an odd vase nestled within an alcove at its base, where what might once have been offerings lay long dried-- or else picked clean by beastkin. The tower itself had been formed from stacked stones of differing color and shape, as though gathered from many places rather than a single one. Her brows furrowed as her gaze lifted toward the top of the lofty pillar, where small colored flags fluttered in the wind, all tied together from various cloths.
It would serve well as kindling for the flame she would need this evening. It made sense to gather a few before the rains came.
She began to scale the pillar, hands searching for sturdy holds as she climbed slowly. Her sandal found a firm crook, and she reached upward to snag one. The stone pressed harsh against her stitched fingers, rough in texture.
Rokhā bellowed a sudden cry!
Adler jerked back, turning toward her-- an arrow struck where her hand had just been, shattering the stone into a spray of fragments.
Chrrrck!
Adler lost her grip, flailed, and fell, striking the ground hard with a heavy thud, gravel and dust scattering into the air.
The fall knocked the air from her, but not enough to still her. Adler rolled onto her side, hand already reaching for her rose-hilted rapier.
Another arrow came from the treeline above-- from the ridge overhead-- loosed toward Rokhā.
A plume of smoke burst upon impact. Rokhā bellowed once more as the force struck her, causing her to sway. Her body collapsed to the gravel-- then began to slide.
"ROKHĀ!!" Adler cried.
Adler sprang to her feet and dashed after her, unconcerned for the assailants then. She clipped the rapier back to her side and reached for her, fingers digging into thick fur as she drove her heels to make furrows into the dirt, fighting to slow the descent.
It was no use.
Her footing gave, and she stumbled forward, dragged along behind Rokhā as the slope pulled them both toward the edge.
Staggering to her feet, Adler drew her blade again, using it as a staff while she thrust her crystal upward and channeled aether through the Catalyst. Her gaze snapped to a jutting section of stone along the ridge above. With a sharp motion of her wrist, she released her magicks.
A jolt of unaspected aether struck true-- and the stone sheared free.
It crashed down along the slope with a rumble, grinding against the gravel until it caught just ahead of Rokhā's sliding form-- halting her momentum, stopping her short of the drop.
A breath of relief left Adler-- then her crystal snapped upward once more. A barrier flared into being around her just as another arrow struck, shattering into fragments and dispersing a powdery substance outward in a violent burst.
She stumbled back from the shattering barrier, blade raised toward the treeline above-- but there was no sign of whoever had attacked her.
'Behind.' Wrath hissed.
Adler turned, gaze snapping down over the edge of the ridge she stood upon. A pair of scarlet limbals glowed within the brush-- and another arrow followed. This one struck the ridge bluntly, bursting into a thick cloud just beyond her.
With a flick of her wrist, she surged aether through her Catalyst once again, sending a sharp Veraero gust outward to disperse the plume away again. The ghostly pale power scattered to the embrace of the winds.
Wrath surged within her-- urging her forward, urging her to leap down and meet the assailant head-on! Adler resisted this. That path led only to uncertainty-- and she would not gamble Rokhā's life on impulse... And she had made a promise.
Instead, she retreated toward the ridge wall, keeping low and out of sight from both above and below-- where she knew eyes to be.
'Coward!' Wrath taunted.
"Hush!" Adler bit quietly.
In that brief moment of reprieve, Adler carefully moved down toward Rokhā. Her chest still rose and fell. She was alive and relief washed over Adler.
Was she being hunted? It seemed unlikely-- these had not been lethal attempts.
What then? Adler considered that maybe she had done something to upset them? Her gaze drifted back to that stone pillar, to the flags that fluttered in the wind. Realization dawned upon her then-- they were no simple fabric.
Had they also been the ones who had stumbled upon her camp? It was beginning to come together.
Whoever they were, they were incredibly resolute in their silence. It was as though even the wind could not carry their steps, hidden amidst the grandeur of the mountain.
There, Adler weighed what she might do next. She would not leave Rokhā's side-- not when she was in such a state. She turned to look back at Rokhā-- and then saw it, at the corner of her eye.
A Xaela male of toned copper skin hung from the edge of the ridge, a mountain axe buried into the stone to anchor him, a painted shield braced close-- white ink marked his features. He was clad in leathers and furs taken from beasts she did not know.
How had he gotten there without making a sound? Not a single stone had fallen-- not one.
It was Wrath's voice, once more, that commanded her to act.
'MOVE, FOOL!'
The Shieldbearer Xaela remained still as stone, while the second had climbed onto the ridge, settling near the pillar as he spun a pair of bola bindings.
It was as though they had known Adler intended to move for the ledge. She did not notice the other-- her gaze still fixed upon the Shieldbearer, unsettled by the frightening silence with which they had moved. It was then she realized what they were.
Angura. There was no doubt.
His copper-toned skin was deep, as described in those old tomes. The Ri-Sta in his grasp, from which he hung-- tools used to ascend the mountains-- and a painted shield? That was not something she had ever seen written on any page.
The sharp whistle of the bolas cut through the air.
As they came near, a surge of Wrath's essence lashed forth from Adler's back like a vulture's talon, striking the bindings from the air and sending them tumbling away before the manifestation swirled back into her.
"Devetā!" the Shieldbearer exclaimed-- and Adler barely caught the word.
Then he leapt toward Adler, intent on pinning her down-- but Adler was quicker.
Instinct drove her. She leapt back toward the ridge wall, narrowly avoiding another set of bindings as she ran partway up the stone. Then she kicked off-- a burst of aether carrying her outward toward the rock where Rokhā lay, intending to land upon the stone behind her.
She overshot.
Her hand failed to catch the upper branches, and she stumbled forward into them, an uncontrolled descent to the forest floor. Branches snapped as her satchel snagged against them, whipping around her while she spun in a chaotic flurry-- the impact knocking the air from her lungs as she struck the soil and fell into a coughing fit.
It was Wrath's durability that spared her a broken limb, yet she could feel the imbalance slowly growing. She had used too much of Wrath's side of the coin. She would need to take care not to rely further upon that influence-- her skin already shifting in tone from tan to something paler.
She would repel the Shieldbearer first, she decided.
Clumsily, she forced herself back to her feet and stumbled to a tree, pressing against its trunk as she peered around its edge-- but they had already moved from the path.
Her gaze swept back and forth, but found nothing. No sign of their coordinated efforts.
And there she remained, keeping Rokhā in sight from the treeline, content to allow the silence to settle.
Half a bell passed and there was no sign of the Angura. The day was already waning, and she would have little time to find a place for her next camp. If they intended to follow her, then she would continue onward all the same.
They had left her alone for now, and she kept Rokhā in view at all times. When she saw movement from the beastkin, she made her way back toward the ridge and knelt at her side. From her satchel, she pulled another bundle of reeds and offered them forth.
"Rokhā..." Adler whispered.
Recognition flashed in the beastkin's eyes, and she began to eat. She seemed entirely unfazed by the whole ordeal, which garnered a soft laugh from Adler.
"Been through much, hast thou?"
After easing her hand through Rokhā's fur and ensuring the stumble had not harmed her further, Adler dug her fingers back into the thick coat and climbed once more toward the saddle. Her bruised and battered form made the effort a struggle, but she managed.
When she finally settled herself, she paused to look upon the stone pillar once more and those flags dancing in the wind.
"Forgive me."
And both began to move once more. As Adler swayed upon the saddle, she wondered if the path ahead would prove more treacherous... but she would not turn back now. If she faltered here, how could she ever dream of one day reaching the summit?
The Tail Mountains are a wide region of rugged terrain, hidden valleys, and lofty peaks. They are home to some of the most resilient life in all of Othard. Few dare travel these paths, for they lead only toward the icy tundra known as the Dalvalan Grath, bordered by the vast Knowing Sea to the south and the frozen Blindfrost to the north.
It is said that were it not for the tribes who inhabit these regions, there would be no discernible paths by which one could traverse them. Even still, the mountains remain perilous, and few undertake the journey without the aid of those who dwell there-- if one can find them at all.
One such people is a Xaela tribe known only as the Angura.
Very little is known of them.
In the southern reaches of the Tail Mountains lies the Galemaw Valley, a dense, forested valley that hugs the outer rim of the range. While the inner peaks pierce the clouds, this lower range offers a merciful passage; a trek through the valley could take a week to complete, but with the companionship of a Mountain Dzo, it could be completed in three.
Adler had made the trek on her own toward the valley but found herself caught amidst a flurry of conflict between horn and wing. A herd of Dzo were being swept down upon by a set of eager Muu Shuwuu, and Adler acted swiftly.
The battle had ended and Adler held her rapier, Rosewind, out toward the Muu Shuwuu now lying still upon the riverbank as others fled. As she steadied her breath, she slowly lowered blade and crystal to holster both upon the side of her feathered robes. Adler turned and approached the Dzo who had narrowly escaped and found a man there who introduced himself simply as Naranjargal, of the Olkund.
"Thou art kind," Adler began, "but I was simply on my way." She moved to collect the bag of supplies she had dropped to fight, which she had garnered for the journey ahead.
Naranjargal let out a bellowing laugh. "Oh, come now! The Dawn Father has witnessed your deeds. Please, it would be an honor for you to journey with my Dzo!"
The tall, broad-shouldered Olkund insisted.
He made a noise with his mouth, a 'ch-ch' that prompted the largest of his Dzo to move nearer to his side.
"This is Rokhā, eldest of my herd, but still strong. She thanks you for your protection. I feel it. I trust she will protect you too on your journey." He pointed briefly to Adler. "Take your hand, let her know you." He brushed a hand upon her head and ruffled the fur there. She seemed to like that.
Adler's hand raised slowly and came to brush along the Mountain Dzo's tough fur, thick with age and stern of countenance. She would make an impeccable ally, she knew.
She had only seen them in Reunion, but these were much larger nearer to the mountains. Adler peered back to her things and knew that such a journey may prove daunting without such a companion.
"What shall I return with?" Adler asked, watching as Rokhā began to graze.
The Olkund seemed almost too quick with an answer.
"A bundle of Tail Blue Poppy, if you must. My daughter grows ill, and normally she takes the Dzo to the water, but not this time... I meet few who journey that way. Bring this back to me and I will see you repaid."
Naranjargal taught Adler how to mount the beastkin for her shorter stature, how to keep her things tucked upon the hump of her back and that Rokhā ultimately will choose the path, but Adler can suggest.
Then, her journey to the Galemaw Valley had truly begun.
A few hours into the valley, the morning light began to cast itself upon it. Azim's dawn had come, bringing much-needed warmth. The mist clung to the skin with a persistent chill, while the river's gentle babble brushed along Adler's obsidian horns. The wind traced a soft caress as she swayed upon the back of the Rokhā.
This was not the glacial north the Angura were known to cross, but a more hospitable stretch-- one where travelers might admire the peaks from below and remain close to the resources needed to endure them. It would be a long journey across the valley, Adler knew-- and she had been warned the path would not be easy even still.
She was far from ready to make the fabled ascent to the summit, which was said to grant an Angura their name from the tribe. She had not yet even met them, but hoped they would accept who she was, having been taken so far from them as a babe.
In truth, Adler had no intention of attempting the summit yet. Rokhā did not know her name-- nor did the mountain, nor its spirits. It was not a rite she had earned.
For a month, she had labored in earnest to comprehend the Olde Auri tongue and read the tomes of her people. Erdenetungalag had said it was her rite to learn the language. She felt confident in that, at least. It seemed to come naturally to her, even if emboldened by her strange Ishgardian accent.
She had done well not only to prepare for this journey, but to face places that once frightened her: the library.
Florette Athenaeum, Scholar's Crossing, and Kholyn Ger-- she had wandered them all in search of knowledge on the Angura. Yet within every tome, the truth seemed uncertain. Each account differed from the last until it became impossible to discern what was real and what was not.
Adler realized that perhaps the only way to truly know... was to make the journey herself.
What information she did gather, however, proved significant. The Angura's use of Mountain Dzo-- to traverse the terrain, aid in travel, and even sustain themselves-- seemed almost obvious in hindsight.
Yet Adler knew very little of the beasts themselves. Her first attempt to claim one had ended in failure, earning only the laughter of observers at Reunion and leaving her with a few freshly stitched wounds-- hardly the first to mark her skin.
A result of the odd spirit dwelling within her: Wrath.
'Let us find another kill!' she hissed.
Adler ignored her.
Now she rode upon Rokhā, advanced in age, yet still strong-- more tame and even-tempered than the others she had encountered. Her steady stomps along the riverbank were soothing. She was so large Adler could nearly reach up and grasp the pine branches overhead.
For Rokhā's efforts, the Olkund had asked little in return-- those Tail Blue Poppies. It dawned on her that she did not know what they looked like... Blue, she assumed.
At first, Rokhā kept to the rivers, guiding Adler's path. From time to time, the two stopped at the water's edge to drink and rest. When the beast settled, so too did Adler, taking the time to make a small camp from the supplies carried upon Rokhā's back.
The air had begun to grow colder as night crept over the valley, and she would soon have need of a flame. For a time, she set about the task by hand, conserving her aether while carefully stoking the fire herself.
When the moment felt right, she drew an oak rod from her pack and cast her line into the river, curious what fish might dwell beneath that vast rippling surface.
What she had not anticipated was the ferocity of what lurked below. One such catch nearly dragged her into the current entirely, and she might have lost the rod as well had it not snagged against a stone downstream.
After catching a few Tail Mountain Minnows, Adler spent some time drying off and cooking them beside the modest fire-- yet another lesson learned from Luwalhati.
It was she-- the finest fishmonger Adler had ever known-- who had given her the confidence to pursue this journey at all. To seek what she could of the tribe and the lands from which she hailed. Adler knew little of her own gods, and less still of the spirits that dwelled here among the mountains.
Hati had been thrust upon a journey of her own-- one she had never chosen-- and yet she endured. Thrived, even, though it was difficult. Still difficult.
She could never return to her island.
And so Adler could not allow herself to do any less. She would return to the mountains-- if only to stand once more among her people. Then perhaps she might return with stories to tell... something to ease Hati's homesick heart.
She had to try.
As Adler settled beside Rokhā by the fire, legs drawn close and arms wrapped around her knees, her thoughts drifted toward Luwalhati's island gods, and she wondered whether the mountains bore gods of their own. Each island god, as she understood it, held their own domain and acted according to their nature.
They did not act out of malice, but because it was simply what they were. Adler found comfort in that, even if she scarcely understood them. She wondered whether they heard her prayers at all-- and whether the gods of the mountains were watching her now.
Azim's light had faded, but Nhaama's gaze had begun to rise overhead.
When night finally came, Adler lifted her gaze toward the stars and wondered what it might be like to live among them.
Who, beneath that vast black tapestry, did not look toward those wayward glimmers for guidance? Adler often did so herself-- and here she was now, searching them for answers... yet none came.
It was beautiful all the same.
Her gaze lingered on the stars, and her thoughts drifted to the stories Luwalhati had shared with her-- of island spirits.
"Tadhana nagpakilala sa'tin," Hati had said.
Fate brought them together.
Yet now they were so far apart-- Hati upon her own journey to reconnect with her island gods, and Adler here amid the mountains, searching for her own people.
The mountain valley felt like a different world entirely. One where perhaps the answers to her prayers-- whether to the Spinner or elsewise-- could not truly reach her.
Did the mountains here grant endurance, as mountains seemed wont to do? Had some spirit of stone or snow noticed her? Did it watch her journey in some distant, silent way?
It seemed plausible to her-- but where was her place in all this?
'I sense no danger,' Wrath began. 'How boring.'
Adler sighed, peering toward the flames. "We need not seek it out. These lands be danger enough."
'What frightens you so? Few could hope to contest our strength.'
"And yet we lost against Wither in every bout with her." Adler leaned forward to stoke the flames, keeping them healthy in the dark.
'Yet it is we who live in the end.'
"We almost died, Wrath... Black Waters were upon us. Had she not simply let us..."
'Feed?' Wrath purred, a grin behind those words, if she had any smile to give.
Adler lingered in the silence a moment before speaking. "Khulan lives, but her counterpart does not. We survived. That was the cost."
'Why do you feel such sympathy for them?'
"Because they were our tribe once... In Ishgard, we had no one else. The Puppets had no one else but each other. Borne of flesh-melded Auri..."
Wrath did not understand Adler's care for such things. She never did. Often they were at odds over how their force ought to be wielded. Even now, balancing their aether by way of Red Magicks had proven fruitful, but Wrath longed to unleash her fury. She yearned for that moment to come.
But it never would, not with Adler's persistence.
'How sentimental...' Wrath chimed before fading to the back of her mind.
Adler's mind began to dwell on that self-made tribe. How many Puppets managed to escape their holds? Was it truly so few that now none remained? Would it soon only be Adler?
It was as the Tumet said... All tribes have their time.
Most unexpected of all, however, was where her thoughts drifted last-- toward something Luwalhati had once said of lost things.
Of a woman who had lost and suffered so much, yet remained kind. Ever kinder. Luwalhati had said she would pray to that spirit of her island for Adler, and so Adler found herself wondering why she had truly come here at all.
What was she hoping to find?
Her hands trembled as they tightened around the hem of her sleeve. Her thoughts drifted toward the small, whining warmth that had once rested within her arms.
The warmth that had been given to the frost of the mountains as an offering-- a plea for forgiveness for having left it.
As though she had ever been given a choice.
Questions flooded her mind. Questions of whether she belonged here at all.
Whether she had any right to stand beneath the mountain's shadow.
Gods... how long had it been?
If she attempted the ascent, what then?
Would the tribe accept her?
Would she find that warmth again?
Would he recognize her at all?
Adler collapsed onto her side, curling into the grass as the fire's warmth embraced her beneath the stars. Her obsidian tail drew close while her tears met the soil. Rokhā's fur seemed to hold her then, reminding Adler that she was not truly alone.
There, she wept.
Who was she to walk these paths?
The Steppe was only a day's journey behind her. Yet the weight of her grief would not allow her to move. Instead, sleep carried her away-- and she dreamed of the sea.
Phantasmagoria
(FFXIV Endwalker spoilers ahead. This was written for a fun prompt asking what a raid series of our OCs would be about. Here is mine!)
The Dreamer of the Source is said to have descended into madness and deemed that all those who have perished in dream, or had not awakened when their shards were destroyed-- deserve a proper peace. She had been putting people to sleep all across the realm and there is little time left to stop her before she has enough sleepers in order to bring about the Dream Kingdom and finally put those lost in dream to final rest, as well as everyone else.
Unei, of a distant Shard, appears before The Warrior of Light to speak of The Sleeping Gods-- who are said to reside in the Dreamscape. Is it through this that The Warrior of Light must first confront the being known as Etro, who stands at the gate of the Dreamscape, manifested by the otherworldly powers of The Dreamer. The Warrior of Light proceeds.
Etro stands at the gate-- A mysteriously powerful individual who protects the balance between the mortal world and the afterlife. In this, she decrees that The Dreamer is destabilizing this balance and must be stopped-- and is assured that only she can be the one to do it. However, The Warrior of Life steps up to the task, and Etro demands that they face her to show that they can truly withstand the trial ahead. Once defeated, Etro entrusts their hopes in the Warrior of Light.
The two then work together to proceed onward into the Dreamscape, where Etro uses her profound powers to protect the Warrior of Light from succumbing to the influence of The Dreamer. They ascend several tiers of the Dreamscape, facing the Sleeping Gods-- until they arrive at the final threshold in the deepest parts of the Dreamscape-- known only as... The Depths.
It is here that they meet with the mysterious Unei (again), revealed to be powerful dream sorceress and explains to the WoL that the dreams of the deceased from Shards they could not save had begun to manifest as dream entities which would consume the aether of those sleeping in various shards. In an attempt to stop this, she had given each Shard a "Dreamer" who would protect them from this threat. However, she did not anticipate the lengths at which The Dreamers might go to accomplish this task. One of them, Oneiros, went mad and convinced the others to join together, one by one to become stronger in their influence.
However, the Dreamer of the Source had been unable to be converted by such means, and instead of doing so, was trapped and sealed away so that the last remnant of her power could be consumed by the strongest of the Dreamers. A mysterious forest witch, Mourn Karner, had managed to prevent such a merge by unknown means and keeping her physical form tethered to the Source, where Oneiros has been unable to fully reach her-- thus granting them time to see that he is stopped.
In a sudden twist, Doga appears and reveals that both Unei and Doga were working together to bring in the Warrior of Light, in hopes of harnessing their power and turning to The Dreamers to consume them, that they may stop the endless slumber of the sleepers themselves. Etro and The Warrior of Light work together to defeat their monster forms, manifestations of eldritch horror! Upon defeating them, Unei asks that the Warrior of Light carry on the Rosetta Stone and a scarlet flower, a means for which they will be able to communicate with Oneiros and learn of the secret to defeat them, once and for all!
The Dreamer Oneiros is approached at the deepest parts of the Depths, where it is revealed that all of the Dreamers have all been consumed, except for the one of The Source. Onerios explains that the endless torment of nightmare cometh, and that they shall have need of a singular Dreamlike God entity in order to prevent it. Believing this was the only course for which the horrific endless sleep could be ceased. The Warrior of Light learns that the only way to defeat the Dremer Onerios is by the power of friendship.
With the Rosetta Stone, The Warrior of Light learns how to awaken The Dreamer of the Source and grants her the power to lock Oneiros down- and the third battle begins! With Oneiros crippled of his power, The Warrior of Light and Etro work together once more to defeat him! The battle consists of having to discern the realm Onerios from the false, and many mechanics that require memorization and lots of spreads and stacks, and y'know, Savage type shit.
Finally, with Onerios defeated-- yet another twist occurs, where The Dreamer of the Source, in a manic haze consumes his entire being and begins to use the Sleepers deep sleep as a means of prayer, then transforming and becoming known as Oneria, the Primal of Slumber. Thus begins the final battle between the Warrior of Light and Oneira. The mechanics include throwing the Warrior of Light into memories of previous battles, facing off against familiar foes and discerning reality from dream.
The Warrior of Light doesn't ever really strike the Oneria directly, as most of her moves tend revolve around placing obstacles in their way that they then must confront-- until eventually, they meet face to face... It is here that The Warrior of Light reveals the scarlet flower, prompting confusion to Primal Oneria before being knocked out of their haze and regains their own mind, returning to The Dreamer-- and the Dreamscape shatters with the release of the primal energy.
The Dreamer awakens to Mourn, who explains that she got hungry watching over her... and so, the two head to a BBQ in the Goblet to have veggie burgers. Meanwhile, The Warrior of Light and Etro discuss their victory and it is discovered that it was Dreamer Oneiros who had been making the Dream Entities all along, and that the Dream Kingdom was finally put the rest with the defeat of The Dreamer.
The End.
(In true SE fashion, there is a huge plot hole but I'm not fixing it.)
Amelie said, a sense of weariness in her voice. It was rare for Adler to hear it-- rarer still when she was being offered a gift. The duo were seated upon the foyer couch near the hearth of the Order's estate. In the soft palm of the scholar's hand rested a small red crystal.
"Thou dost know I am ever vigilant of my holdings."
Adler replied, a sense of slight confusion as her gaze rose to meet the sky blue of Amelie's own. She turned her hand over to let it fall into Adler's.
"Not what I meant."
Amelie smiled soft, the last gift she would leave Adler with before returning to Sharlayan.
As the crystal made contact-- suddenly Adler's mind fell to a new place altogether. The conscious memory of another sprung forth like a symphony. Amidst the overcast mountainous regions of Gyr Abania, Adler opened her eyes to witness a man clad in a scarlet Ishgardian garb, olive green hair and scruffy, lighter hairs upon his chin.
"Now ju lis'en."
The instructor's voice rang out across the field. The height of these mountains made the air feel thin and sharp-- each breath feeling less full in the lungs. The stone ground here seemed as though it had been treaded many times before.
"Pardon, but-- Thou hast yet to have said anything..."
Adler said with some confusion. She watched the man draw his rapier from his side and dash forward, a snap in the air as the blade made contact with her leg, prompting her to flinch.
"Olivero shall sho yoh hau tu moof. No'sing more."
He swung his blade up and Adler reacted, drawing her own with the sense that Wrath had given her in that moment. The motion was swift and clashing loudly against Viero's own. The first minute was spent watching how she moved in response to his strikes, correcting her when needed. She learned to strafe when he pressed on, keeping herself from meeting the edge. She learned to block when he swung and to knock his blade aside when he went for a jab.
Then came the acrobatics-- For which Adler could simply not follow. Viero leapt into the air and cast a spell mid motion, a delayed reaction from Adler, but just enough to duck out of the way.
Adler had never seen such a movement, the way his grace swept through the air-- a flick of his arms outward to send a surge of aether to course correct his trajectory, sending him upright. As he had, a short bolt fired out from the crystal catalyst, almost without any indication that a spell was being cast at all! She managed a quick pivot to avoid the bolt, but the strike behind her caused such a burst of aether that it knocked her forward into the stone floor, bouncing once into a roll till she settled.
By the time Viero's feet had touched the floor-- the crystal rested upon the hilt of his blade and a Vermillion Flare was sent forward into the air, exploding into a cacophony of raining hellfire.
"Enough!" And as the limbals of Adler's eyes dilated, the sclera black. Wrath. She leaped back with a series of hops, avoiding one blast after another. Her skin fading into a pale hue. Her tail flailed with rapid motion, hand extending outward as an axe coated in brilliant astral flame appeared, rapier falling to the floor with a clink.
"Aha, de speerit weethin yoh shines forth! Come to me, O' Wrath!"
With a dash, Wrath was upon Verio in a mere moment. When her axe swung, the blade redirected the strike with ease. Wrath's uncontrolled flurry of swings, powerful but lacking intent or direction. Each one was swept away with ease, which only further elicited that flurry of rage induced swings toward Viero. One hand behind his back where the crystal remained, the other-- his blade, controlling Wrath's motion.
It was too easy.
"See hau we dance, eh?! You weel learn dis."
And then came the riposte.
All that aetheric rage that had been channeled toward Viero had suddenly caused a brilliant light to shine from behind him, practically blinding Wrath as his blade swept forward and pushed out, sending all that compiled aether back toward her.
Wrath was sent flying across the mountain floor, crashing down into it as it cracked and cradled her to a hauls. The ax has sprang into the air and slammed head first into the ground, cracking it wide as the astral flame died out. The agitation in Wrath's form was clear, her body wrenching and swiping at the air with her hands, snarling and hissing as though she were some rabid animal.
"Such powah weeth no direction eez no powah at all."
Oliverio said, sheathing his blade-- letting his oddly colored green crystal settle to his palm.
As the flurry of Wrath's energy faded, that tan tone slowly returned and Adler came back into the fray, panting and catching her breath as though she had just run a marathon. Her hands were shaking at the extent for which Wrath had exerted both of them. When she finally came to settle to a rest, her gaze lingered upon the sky, watching a brilliant storm overhead.
"What be this place?"
Adler clenched her fist and slowly rose from the floor into a seated position-- then watched as Viero came forth, extending his gloved hand down to her.
The Ishgardian white fell like a hail amidst the snowstorm. Most were ordered to stay indoors and let it pass. Some had made it in and others with more perilous journeys did not find shelter so swiftly, like those of The Brume. It was there that Rebecca had intended to hide away until she could safely return to her true home amidst the Coerthas mountains.
"Thou art no true noble, girl!" Osyra de Vasch hissed with another shove toward the Midlander girl. "I have never heard of a House Autumnwind!"
The trio of Veena loomed over the smaller hyur woman, Rebecca Autumnwind. A duet laughed behind the tallest of them with thick blonde hair and captivating golden eyes. It was the sharpness that gave them that mystique.
Rebecca felt the cold wall stone press at her back, unable to turn and run this time. She often had before but the storm had made it difficult to move between pillars of safety.
"Am from... across sea, My Lady..." Rebecca stammered out, words rasp and soft like a whisper.
"There be no Noble Houses across the sea!" Osyra spat down back at her, a hand grasping the collar of Rebecca's coat and dragging her over. "And just like anything beyond Ishgard, there is only one proper place for thee!"
"What is--" Rebecca was cut off by the sudden fact that her feet left the ground.
Osyra hoisted the small girl up and threw her over the nearby ledge. Rebecca screamed as she fell, slamming against the rim of a chute and the rest of the way until she hit the base where the garbage had come to accumulate. It smelled of rot and warmth, like a damp sewer.
"Cease thy fickle lies and heed my warning!" Osyra called down, her voice echoing. "Do not ever again shame me with thy presence or gaze, understood?" And those lofty blond ears turned away and the laughter faded.
The snow fell ever so slowly down the chute, decorating the features of Rebecca... And the glamour failed then. Gone was the appearance of the Midlander woman. Obsidian black horns became apparent, a tail and scales revealing themselves all along. It was fortunate she had lost it only after being tossed over. Her hand raised to peer at the stitches upon her flesh, disturbed by the sight.
Little Adler. What an ugly creature.
The opening to the chute suddenly swung open and Adler scrambled to hide beneath the garbage, but it was too late-- and a pair of pearl pink eyes with lofty tall ears upon her head had found her. Another Viera?
"Now what art thou doing amidst such humble quarters?" the girl asked, a cherry smile peering over the edge of that chute's side panel. There was mischief in her eyes, but Adler could not discern its reasoning.
Adler pulled a fruit peel from her head and tossed it aside, slouching down against the back of the metal frame. Her form was lithe, weathered by effort and strife, yet she acted so meek. "S-Sorry… Not looking well for noble eyes ... Your grace." the Xaela girl frowned.
How rare a sight it was to see a Xaela amidst Ishgard proper.
"Nonsense." Atyla mused, a hand extending down within the chute, "Such pretty horns, gentle eyes and a button nose! An adorable thing thou art. Lie to me, you will not."
Adler rose from the rubbish and held a confused gaze to the offered hand. When she took it, the girl brought her up from within the chute and back out onto the snow-coated ground. A banister overhead kept the bulk of the torrent away. The Viera girl was dressed in a pink noble coat, lined with jewelry of a homeland she knew not the name of.
"What is thy name, liar?" The pastel pink haired girl asked, arms crossed with an inquisitive gaze upon Adler's tattered noble robes.
"Adler, your grace." She hesitated a moment and then bowed low.
"Grace?" she laughed, "My name is Atyla de Vasch, not Grace. You will do well to learn it."
As Adler rose, confusion met her features-- still uncertain if she were to be punished or worse.
"Not... afraid?"
"Of you?" Atyla smirked, looking the girl over with a huff. "I read all about your kind. Beyond thy horns and scales, thy stature is questionable and thou dost not speak with eloquence as I, therefore-- What have I to fear?" Her words were quick and confident.
It was then Atyla took a step forward to tap the chin of the Xaela girl, raising it up. Her steps continued to move around her, slapping a hand at Adler's back, straightening her posture. "This shall not do. Thou shalt retain whatever form thou dost wish, but so long as thou art amidst my company, thou shalt be taught proper conduct."
"Yes, My Lady." Adler said, nervously watching the girl pace around her.
"My Lady? I have told thee mine name, have I not? Thou shalt call me Lady Atyla-- Should I have to say it again, my ear shall meet thy skull. Thou dost understand?"
"Yes, My Lady!"
Atyla then flicked her head down and a pink ear came swinging down to thwap Adler on the head. An audible thump. It did not hurt, but it did cause Adler to flinch in surprise.
"I-I mean, Lady Atyla!"
Atyla rose up and smirked, a sense of pride that she had taught the girl something after all.
Over the course of the last three weeks, I have stumbled upon a few new songs from Spotify that were really outspoken on themes of drug abuse, relationships and anxieties. We all struggle in our own ways and to varying degrees but making music must be such a therapeutic experience. While I do personally enjoy doing my own vocal covers of music-- To be able to write out your own words and sing them is something that was always challenging for me.
Anyway.
Chris Miles - Reason
Chris Miles' Reason does a pretty solid job at hitting all the marks themed above. It has a very steady flow rap and just as much earnestness as other tracks I have talked about before. This particular track came at a really nice time when I was feeling rather heart wrenched over anxieties about my own inadequacies and fears of failing someone.
"Don't let them get through to you
Stay true and you will find
The reason you stay up at night, like woah"
It is easy to point to someone and say that this is the issue; but sometimes that opposition is really yourself. We can sometimes be our own worst enemy and this song really made me feel powerful enough to stray away from those kinds of thoughts and work on improving how I process my anxities.
Austin George - Manners, Hands On You, Heavy, Freak Like That
"Play it nice, but late at night, I know that's not who you are
It's different after dark"
- Manners
"And I know that you be alright all on your lonely
Spendin' nights in limbo, off doin' your own thing
But when you hit me, say you got something to show me
Hopped right out the phone screen"
- Hands On You
Austin George has very focal optics on affections, as it's almost wholly physically driven, and I think that is really interesting in the way he shows it in his music. Most of these songs all have a similar cadence for which is certainty his style and make it hard not to sway to. The confidence in which he can say the things he does invokes a sense of awe. To have that level of confidence to say-- You really want me and I need you.-- Is fascinating.
"So if you feel it's not enough, got ways that I can help
Know it may seem like he's the one, but trust me, girl"
- Freak Like That
There is a certain level of emotional bonding in a genuine relationship that I need prior to developing physical attractions due in part to my own neglect of that aspect in my past. It has generally lead to disastrous results and an emotional toll I am not keen to repeat. While these songs are much a reflection for me, they are quite profound!
poptropicalslutz! - RFSB, the new 925
"I know why she callin', when the shades fallin'
In this club, where you from?
Do you come here often?"
- RFSB
poptropicalslutz! is comprised of Christian Cicilia and Nick Crawford. I found my interest more in the way they design their music and the ease it brings. They have a very comforting progression to their music I find comfort in. The lyrics themselves can very in quality but they have a lot of fun songs that I find myself returning to in moments of dread.
"I had a girl tell me, "How much time you give it 'til you give up?
Can you outrun the hourglass?"
I'd rather break this shit in half, so I can live by the sand"
- the new 925
Really, there isn't much to say here, I just love the whole vibe. I am always pleasantly surprised for my shuffle to pull another of their tracks and find it was just as enjoyable as the last!
contradash - carbon, cat out the bag
"Cause' losing your mind look attractive in a world like this
It's doing damage and it's more than just some paint to fix
Download my brain and re-do it all again
I can't be hard to replicate with these-"
- carbon
contrdash has made an appearance on my list before with "Sold For Parts" and that song is still incredible and is a core means in which one can express the hope to surrender without fear to someone held so dear. Carbon and cat out the bag deal more with aspects of anxieties and the feeling of inadequacy and the surmounting fear that uncertainties will, inevitably, come to make themselves known and it could bring ruin.
"Slither out from the homies to hang out with ya
Never tell I'm in love and I can't fight it off
Ain't no secret I need it and I’m down with ya
Every time that she notice I ain't around, what's up?"
- cat out the bag
Cigerettes. Alcohol. We all have our vices and it is important to acknowledge them and to look back at the instances that wrought the path. There is always another way and it's songs like these that make me wonder if, despite recognition of those flaws-- Would they repeat the course? Do not give those vices reasons. It is difficult. It can be scary. We just have to care for our soul just as much as our bodies.
"You're asking me what I ate, I push my foot on the brake
monty.pk - car's in a lake, aren't you proud?, amethyst
Your head is crushing the dash, I watch it crumple and cave
Asking me what I ate, the fucking car's in a lake
Is that so pressing to ask? The fucking car's in a lake"
- car's in a lake
And it's bitter and burns as it rots through my teeth
Like those hollow-tip words I wish I didn't speak
But I'll grin through the hurt, asking "arеn't you proud of me?"
- aren't you proud?
monty.pk- a chance encounter. There are few songs that drive such a profound stir of emotions from me, but this artists has such a dynamic style that I did not even recognize that these three songs were all made by the same artists! Absolutely incredible talent and the last of my list, but near the first on my playlist.
"The cold beneath your feet
The words you're yet to speak
I'll never get so close again
I'll never get so close
- amethyst
With "car's in a lake"-- What a profoundly chaotic situation with a song so jubilant that it's lightly comedic. THE FUCKING CARS IN THE LAKE! I cannot imagine the emotional whiplash that might have been, but to tell that story? To live through that? I was in an accident once in my life and it was of my own arrogance. I learn quickly that mortal engines are not invincible, and neither are we.
Then there's "aren't you proud?" -- My Mother was all had growing up. Maybe it made me less outgoing or prone to avoid going beyond the foot of my door... But when I look at all the things my Mom did growing up, what she had to do to bring me the life I live in today? I'm profoundly overtaken with guilt. If I was in her situation, would I have found my own way?
I live on my own now-- 1,800 miles away from her and if it wasn't for her kicking me out-- I am not sure I would have had the will to find my way. I often think of her, all the things she accomplished and where I am. I hope she is proud of me despite my repeated failures.
"amethyst" To hold such close and deep affections for someone-- Only to have them rend and torn away. Months or years later, when that moments comes, when they chance upon your path and there is a deep melancholy serendipity. It may not even be that, just unrelenting surge of hurt and recollection. It can make it difficult to trust again. Though I am a forgiving and sentimental person, I hope for the best-- I have learned to let sleeping dogs lye... And in the end, I have to try again. We have to learn to try gain. What a beautiful song this is.
In the dark, a glint of steel from clashing blades had rung through the hollow corridor. Adler flung back through the air, curling into a ball to adjust her speed then spread her legs to land. Her feet met the ground in an awkward fashion but a bounce had her stabilize-- raising her rapier back up to the standard position, as she had learned from her mentor.
The cool air met her breath, tail swinging to the rhythm of her lungs. She kept a loose grip, steadied herself, and observed the fiend before her. The Void-wraith. A vengeful and wrathful creature that had tormented the inhabitants of this home. The family had managed to flee, but her duty was here. Such was the way of the Red.
"Again!" The voice in the back of her mind had said.
The Void-wraith had began to glow once more, another attempt to subdue the Xaela with a hypnotic gaze, but she was already prepared. The grey crystal Catalyst floating above her other hand swept forth to the hilt of her inverted blade, syncing with the gem there. A Magick Barrier formed to take the corrupted gaze with a mighty thrum.
Adler stumbled back to the sudden surge of corrupted aether. The screech of the beast had run harsh against her obsidian horns, causing a dip in her form and the barrier to shimmer. As it held, she began to flow her aether through the Catalyst in preparation.
When that stream of corrupted influence ceased, Adler's blade flicked out in practiced motion-- Veraero sent forth with a lashing burst that severed through the creature. With an acceleration, Verthunder coursed through her form and she dashed forward-- keeping mindful to the rhythm Sarva had taught her. Her boots planted before the creature and she swept the blade into an upward thrust into the heart of it. She felt the resistance of its spiritual influence and surged forth another bout of those unaspected magicks to burst out from it.
The attack caused an immediate reflex from the creature to dart away, the black veil at it's back swinging around to slam hard against Adler, sending her to the corridor ground. The memory of the mud coating her form came. The taste of crimson. The harshness of the downpour. The unforgiving chill of Coerthas.
"Now, Again!" The voice echoed.
A sudden flicker of Wrath surged in Adler's eyes. An attack was coming. She quickly rolled onto her back and rose the blade to block a slash of those gargantuan claws of the Void-wraith. A loud ringing. The bulk of its might had been too much and those vile blades came close and closer. Her other hand frantically adjusted to hold the other end of the blade, pushing back with all her strength. It was not enough. The weight of the Void-wraith's ferocity was going to crush her.
'Let me in!'
Wrath demanded. Adler knew better and refused. Her heart began to quicken and sweat trickled down her stitched grey features. In moments of desperation, she often prayed to The Spinner for guidance, but prayers did not come to Adler's mind. No. Her mind fell upon a pair of lava-like limbals within the depths of deep black sclera.
"Maharlika." She uttered.
As though her mind had suddenly attuned to the tactics of warfare-- Her Xaela tail flicked up to stab into the Void-wraith, causing it to lessen its force! In that moment of reprieve, Adler pushed up and turned her upper-body to knock those talons away and quickly rolled back onto her feet to the standard position.
The Void-wraith was already beginning to recuperate, steadying its gaze upon Adler.
The moment to strike was now! The Catalyst floating above her hand had become a veil of swirling red aether, and suddenly-- Adler surged toward the Voidsent, ignoring the winding gaze! With a swell of Verthunder guiding her motions, Adler swept her blade in successive strikes, weaving aether built up from the engagement to send forth a barrage of unaspected aether-infused cleaves. Upon the final strike, she swept the Catalyst and placed it upon the hilt for an ambitiously dangerous but decisive blow.
It was the precipice of her might-- where she surged forth her aether through the crystal, down into the length of the blade and back. A swell of blinding white came and Verholy burst forth, blotting the gaze of the fiend. The concussive explosion of light-aspected aether threw Adler back into the air. Much to her unknowing dismay, the crystal within the Catalyst had cracked from the strain.
With a kick of her feet, and a hand to the ground, she followed the motion to flip back upright and swept her blade and Catalyst into position once more. The target downed in sight and the crystal lined up for a final follow-up. She had surged her aether and then belatedly realized the damage upon the crystal, gaze widening as she tried to stop the spell-- but it was too late.
The untamed surge of aether collapsed there in her hands and blew both the blade and the Catalyst away from her, abruptly changing her trajectory to go crashing through the nearby corridor wall, collapsing to the floor within a side-room.
When Adler awoke, she felt an incredibly sharp pain in her arm. She rose from the debris and stepped back out into the corridor, one arm holding the other. Ash remained where the void-sent had been-- Cast back to whence it came. She had not required the final blow after all... And her ambition had led her astray. A familiar feeling... Adler gathered her blade and the damage Catalyst before departing the manor, relieved that it was over.
Another deed done. Too close for comfort. Far too close.
Adler awoke and rose in a shuddered breath, stitched hand clinging to the fabric. The race for air lasted for only a few seconds before she realized where she was. The moon still hung in the heavens, dwindling down as the morning made approach over the vast Shroud. When her breath eased, she sat the rest of the way up, her hand brushing back through grey and black locks with a sigh. The misty air of the morning forest filled her lungs.
"Must thou share thy dreams as well?" she muttered aloud.
Her silvery gaze shifted and lingered on a satchel a few fulms away, realizing the pouch had been opened and the supper within taken. It had been graciously crafted by Grandma Senkyo and now here she were without it. A huff.
"Nor did you warn me of visitors...." Adler grumbled, beginning to realize that despite their equilibrium, they still did not seem to prioritize the same things.
The whispered ethereal tone resonated somewhere in the back of Adler's mind.
"It was no threat to us."
She curled her stitched hand and looked upon it-- thumb brushing against the other fingers in some consideration of that. Who was she to determine what was harmful to them both?
"Aye, but unlike thee, I may now starve in these hills."
"No. Hunt."
A scoff. "With what? A blade?"
Adler rolled her eyes and slipped out from the thin sleeve for slumber and climbed to her knees to roll it into a bundle to store back within the satchel.
"Fish."
She paused in consideration before realizing that she had failed to buy a fishing rod from Hati. Her lip flattened some and peered back to the satchel. No, that would have been made off with as well.
"With what pole?"
"You are a hopeless wench. Other things on your pathetic mind?"
She reached for the satchel and pulled it near, stuffing the fabric away and peering toward the now extinguished plot of where a fire had been just the night before.
"Always." She mused.
"Your extinguishing hearth?" The tone was harsh and low.
The Au Ra pulled the satchel from the ground and slowly rose to her feet-- taking pause with the phrase, standing there. 'It were no simple flame, nor flicker.' Adler thought to herself, 'It was the kind of magma-might that formed entire worlds.' Hiraya.
"Why must you torment me?" Adler sighed, pulling the belt over her shoulder for the satchel to rest in place. "You deter me every step of the way. Can you simply not be delighted that she still looks upon us at all?"
Adler pulled her gloves from the side pockets and slipped them back into place, moving to a nearby pile of leaves to pull her rapier and crystal from within and sheath them at her side.
"Don't get greedy... She will leave if we do not show our devotion. We must."
She could sense that voice smiling in those words, but she also recalled that Wrath had shared her concerns over the matter before. What Wrath knew of romance was nothing short of a guaranteed order of restraint by city-state authorities. She trusted Wrath, but not that much.
"Says the one whom wishes to bring her a corpse as a show of affection. I will not have thee giving me advice on the matter."
She grimaced, crossing her arms as she moved to the nearby cliff edge to peer down to the path beyond-- Out toward the rest of the deep shroud.
"She is a warrior, is she not? Yet she bakes pies and lines feeble pesh."
"Dost thou not realize that we have yet to capture a single fish in our entire being?" There were no immediate retort to that and Adler chortled softly. "She had said it herself. A warrior must feed themselves a great feast to retain their strength."
"And you will starve. What does that make you?"
The comment drew her gaze down to the ground, Adler eliciting a gentle hum.
"I never claimed to be a warrior..."
"What about a ... Babaylan."
The word drew a sudden widening of Adler's eyes as she was stunned in surprise. It was rare that Wrath ever remembered anything that wasn't cutting something apart with her axe.
"You recalled that? Color me impressed... Yet it is not my place. I know nothing of it."
"A warrior will need her body and soul mended. Surely, you see it? Whom has witnessed rifts of darkness and sealed them? Whom has eased the spirits that they may know The Dreamer's name? Whom brought the might of the spirit within the Avillion Artifact to heel to her order?"
Adler shook her head. "Gaiana does not obey me-- She is my friend."
"Yet your friend killed our sister-- and she wishes for me to be banished as well. Surely your foolishness can see through that?"
Hesitance flashed in her eyes, squeezing her shoulder in concern. Wrath had been many things but fearful was never one of them. That artifact was the only thing that she had ever known to garner such a sensation from her. Adler shook her head.
"Khulan will live." She uttered.
"But Wither is DEAD."
Silence settled between them as they considered the reality of that. Wither was a dangerous woman and unsettled in the mind in a way that Adler had never been able to mend. Had she been more knowledgeable of matters of the spirit-- Could she have saved her?....
"I must first maintain my body if I am to tend the spirit. There be Shaman's of the Steppe. That matter shall be our next charge, but for now-- The White Root is near."
With a final glance over her wares, the sun had risen at last to kiss the pale skin of The Marionette. The path was clear then and the dangers of the night had passed. She still carried a warmth within her that would see her complete her duty. Perhaps once this was done, she might find waters for which to ease their souls both.
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