East from the city and up toward the gentle slope of the island mountain, the traveler walked all on his own. He had been this way for many cycles of sun and moon. Sometimes, he would walk or sail straight through the night. He only truly rested when he was stuck in a port, waiting for a vessel to set sail or a storm to pass. Even then, the sleep was restless, full of vivid dreams. Oftentimes they were flashes of some past events or a life from long ago. Dreams of meandering through enormous castles, empty of people though he could feel them just beyond his awareness. Dreams of great pain being inflicted upon him. He was always alone in his dreams and in his travels.
Though he could be surrounded by people and spirits, he would be apart, adrift. He could not recall life before this place, before he awoke for the last time in the Black Forest and departed from there forever. Nor could he explain how he came to understand this world. It was as if the air itself had created him to live amongst the rest of the creatures of this realm. He knew he had Eà to thank, her never ending kindness was surely the source of this existence.
Others had more answers than he did, but they did not often speak to him. He was whole, solid, once a damaged, flawed being and subsequently repenting for whatever harm he had caused. Many others were like him. They too were flesh and blood and bone, but they were fixtures of whatever community they could leech onto. Protective sorcerers, wise women, priestesses, and council members. These people had educated themselves of this world, and, through speaking with Eà, educated themselves in their pasts. Once, at the beginning of his endless journey, he had rested in a temple maintained by an old priest. He was a soft man, gentle in his speech and poise. He showed the traveler how to come to find his name and the power that came with it. With this, he could begin to gain some semblance of himself. Without it, he would continue to wander, ears falling deaf on true words spoken to him.
It was through prayer, deep introspection, and exploration of the world around him that he was finally answered. Many days passed he spent in and around the temple. Very occasionally the old man would stop by to leave an offering to the god the temple stood for, clean it, keep it tidy and pristine. And the traveler stayed there, meditating in the shade of the temple, listening to the sound of the wind, the chill of nightfall, how hot the sun could burn. Hunger and thirst were like a plague, he could not satiate himself. When he was not sleeping, or meditating, he was hunting, searching for food or running water.
Eventually, many, many days into his seated search inward, with the sun high overhead, scorching the cobble floor beneath him, sending waves of vision-blurring heat waves all around him, he thought he heard a voice. It was so quick, so loud in his ear. As if an unseen spirit had screamed just over his shoulder. He could feel his heartbeat rise instantly. It was his name. Someone, long ago, had shouted it at him. He glanced all around, looking to see if perhaps he had heard the strange call of some creature and mistook it for an answer. There was nothing. No movement in the grass around him. No. Nothing would come so close to him. It had been such a shock, as if a bolt of lightning had struck nearby despite there being no clouds in the sky. He had no idea what was said. Still unable to understand it.
When he was settled once more, the heat sent him so far into his trance that when the voice came again, his eyes remained shut, his body frozen. The droning sizzle of the sun’s heat, the low simmer of the tall, dry grass in the wind, all lulled him to a near slumber. Here he remained for some time, unseeing, nearly unconscious but still aware of himself. Roem- His shoulders gently twitched at the distant voice. Roemont!