Enea walked the hallways of the Sandsea. It was almost time to return to the front-lines. There was much to be done, but she wanted to bring along one last thing. Memories of the ‘ghosts’ she’s seen rushed her head. The people of her village, the lost souls asking for help in the Palace of the Dead, the mihgans she helped train and that perished in the attack to Rhalgr’s Reach.
“We are coming home soon.” Her heart felt heavy as she stood in front of a room she had never enter before. “We are just taking one more burden with us.”
She stood in front of Sylvan Rain’s room.
Enea though of knocking but decided against it, quietly intruding inside. Her mind wondered. The few times they got to fight side by side. The immense respect she felt for the roegadyn. The time she almost gathered the courage to ask her for training. The time she watched silently from the sidelines as Sylvan left for the Far East. How that was the last time those who stay behind saw her, the sun as her beacon and her mother’s relic at her side.
“Maybe we could had been good friends.” Enea whispered to herself as she looked for something. After some search she found a peculiar necklace she remembered Sylvan wore a few occasions, especially during Ashelia’s wedding. The miqo’te examined the piece before securing it to the pummel of her great-sword. The necklace itself was a few onzes, but it felt immensely heavy. “You were great and you were noble-” Her voice quivers. “Maybe I am not the one who should do this... But we are going home now... and you are coming with us.”
My time in the Sandsea has been a blessing so far. Sad and exciting in equal measures. A cup of coffee with no sugar or cream, it’s bitterness a reminder of your choices. A blooming rose with the hopes and blood of a better future, it’s thorns pricking me as a sign of distrust.
Who am I to touch you when my kind have muddled you so?
If I open my heart and soul to them, will they believe me? They have no reason to trust me apart from Ashelia’s vouching for me. I have no way to say I am not a spy or the some very elaborate ruse by the Empire. My only option is to be transparent and honest with what I do. I will let my book speak in my stead.
A group of valiant heroes fighting against all odds for the betterment of the realm. These people are becoming walking legends. The kind of stories who made my young self dream are happening in front of me. History is happening in front of me and then I realize fate gave me the guise of their villains. Oh how I wanted to hide my forehead and my name when I passed through those doors.
A drunk Lominsan pirate telling recent tales in exchange of some booze and some company. A noble Ishgardian out on a vacation to the far east, passionately retelling the end of a thousand-year war. A drinking friend complaining about their work as a Garlean soldier, a man at an Inn kicked their ass with a broomstick the day before. I carried with me stories of bars, exaggerated and inaccurate. Now I am finally collecting these stories out of the heroes themselves, and as I tune this story into history I am confronted with every hurt and atrocity my people commit at every turn . Horrors and depravity that I must keep in this tale as well as the pain and hate in the expressions of those who have shared their story.
A backstory for Priscilla bas Scaevola in three parts ( 1/3 )
Sunset approached the streets of Kugane. The paper lanterns that adorned the streets gently feathered over the natural light with their yellow and orange hue. Priscilla strolled down the Kogane Dori Markets with confidence, her wide smile greeting every local and merchant. She dressed in a fine set of gold embroidered red silks crafted to match and blend the Far Eastern scenery and fashion. She had tied her long auburn hair neatly in a high bun and kept a matching headband attached to her wrist instead of hiding her obvious Garlean heritage.
Priscilla had planned to find the up-and-coming seamstress who had crafted her new outfit. She wanted to commission more of her outstanding work, but it was more of a guise to enjoy a tea house or a nice restaurant. The night life was always more enjoyable with company.
Just perfect! After a few questions around the markets, she felt her hopes rise. The merchants and visitors were a pleasant bunch; the locals were already familiar with her. They told her the seamstress had stopped by to procure some fabrics. The tourists and visitors were harder to approach. Some just avoided her gaze in the hopes of not being bothered, while others carried angry or stern faces, probably hailing from a nation warring with hers. The angry ones never acted confrontational with her, proving Kugane a relatively safe place for those not looking for trouble with groups like the Sekiseigumi to keep the order and the Garlean embassy right around the corner to give her a peace of mind.
Priscilla’s hopes and plans for the night began to sink as she noticed a Garlean officer walking straight in her direction.
“Miss Scaevola, I was asked to escort you.” His voice carried a slight echo within his intricate helm.
Now? But I haven’t reached my cute new seamstress yet! “You know...” Her lips curled a slight smile as she examined his form-fitting outfit, almost certain of the man behind the mask. “I always appreciate the fashion the troops carry in the Far East.” She raised an eyebrow.
“Sc-caevola!” the man stuttered. “I was asked to escort you.”
“Please, Serbius, must you wear that helmet every time? I’d prefer to stare into your blue eyes instead… formalities I guess.” She grinned and stepped to the side with an over-the-top bow, gesturing for him to lead the way. “Is it Eustace again? I am sure it could wait until tomorrow. We could go get some tea instead? Maybe appreciate some of the night life?” Maybe my room later?
“Pris, please-!” the officer pleaded and cleared his throat. Her smile widened behind his back. “Miss Scaevola, let me just do my job. Master Farcia was the one that summoned you. He was quite sour. So-“
“So no jokes, got it. Not like he has a sense of humor anyway.” Priscilla rolled her eyes. “It should be fine, I am his new money-making machine. Oh!” She raised a finger as a thought occurred to her. “The Prima Vista will be in town soon! We should see it! Fine Garlean theater, right here in Kugane. We should gather your whole crew for it!” Her voice was clear with newfound excitement.
“Are they now.” A breathy chuckle finally escaped his helmet. “Yes, maybe we should gather up the crew for that. Most have not been back home in quite a while.”
Instead of the usual restaurant where Priscilla met with her manager, Eustace cen Farcia, she was escorted to the Garlean embassy building in Kugane. Serbius exchanged salutes and orders with the guards at the gates before they were swiftly welcomed inside.
“So, tonight, then?” she teased Serbius as they parted ways.
“Just stay out of trouble, Pris.” He shook his head as he chuckled again, leaving to continue his duties.
Trouble… I know. Priscilla walked into the building, escorted by a pair of officers once inside. Her destination was a makeshift office: a desk table next to a fireplace and half a dozen chairs. The officers asked for any weapons. She handed over her purse which, aside for some pieces of candy and a small bag of coins, contained a well-crafted gun and a ceruleum grenade. They examined it and kept the purse with them as they stood watch over the door.
Minutes later a man hastily entered the room, smacking the door open with his palm and storming to the desk where Priscilla was patiently sitting. He wore a simple dress shirt adorned with a cravat. His glasses were as crooked as his messy blonde hair and the red of his skin showed signs of stress, anger or both. In his hands were a bundle of handwritten papers, which he tried to loudly throw against the desk between them. This man was Priscilla’s manager and agent, Eustace cen Farcia.
“So I take it you didn’t like it?”
“Priscilla!”
No last names? Oh he really is mad! “Well?”
“Well?! Well?!” Eustace grew more agitated. “You do know what your own manuscript is about, right?!”
“A group of adventurers’ struggle against an overwhelming force. Eikon slayers, the final page of a thousand-year-old war in Ishgard. The inspiring tale of their tenacity, come hell or high water.”
“And you have heard the news, right?” he asked, trying to compose himself.
“Assuming you are not talking about the sales chart of The Wildfire, yes. Garlemald lost some of its territories recently.”
“Priscilla, you are missing the part where the merry band of adventurers you like to write so much about killed the crown prince Zenos yae Galvus!”
Her eyes widened in brief surprise. She quickly pondered how to respond appropriately between her want to ask for more information and the excitement of the sheer stunt these adventurers had managed to pull off. “Good riddance-“
“Priscilla bas Scaevola!!” he yelled, drowning her retort.
“He was a genocidal arse. That man was crazy,” she mouthed at Eustace, out of earshot of the guards.
“Please, dear, do not let people hear you speak so. Your father worked too hard for you. I also worked very hard for you.” He took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We cannot have you writing about enemies of the Empire. At least not like this. They are rather displeased with your stance. There are things we can do, so let me fix this for you. Here is the deal.” Eustace threw the manuscript into the fireplace. He procured a folded letter sealed with the emperor’s insignia and handed it over to Priscilla. “We will forget about these Riskbreakers. In its place there will be something, maybe a biography, about the late Lord Zenos. Write about his prowess, about his face, it doesn’t matter. Write me something our motherland can mourn about. There will be remembrance service in a few months where we will present this. You will be the star. We will be rich. This might be the chance to change your status. You will make your father very proud. ‘Priscilla cen Scaevola’ - think about it!”
Priscilla stared intently at the fireplace for what could be a decade. Her heart felt heavy in her chest. Good thing I never gave the original away. She still mourned the hard work of the second copy that now was working as kindling. The fire burned brighter against a room that had come to feel a bit more claustrophobic. She knew they would come to invite her to participate. To bend the truth and be another cog to the great Garlean machine. But she hadn’t expected it would be so early. To comply or to resist. I don’t have the backing of the Majestic Imperial Theater Company, or half their talent. Maybe I could go to them, not that would get me the freedom I want. Maybe it could be like an internship…
“And if I refuse?” She broke the silence. One could almost hear the strain out of Eustace’s very soul.
“I believe you would lose all the help you have received so far. I won’t be able to sell this, or anything you write after that. Not that I would try. I have mouths to feed, Priscilla; I can’t keep playing these games.”
“And if I publish it myself?”
“That would be very hard. You would brand yourself a traitor to Garlemald the moment your novel reaches the people. When this little revolution ends and these Riskbreakers fail, you will fall right with them. They will seek to silence you and take your head.” Eustace sat down. “Pris, Priscilla, oh please listen to me. Let us do what is best.”
“But you are asking me to lie. To paint Zenos as a war hero, to paint people who only wanted their home back as savages and vile murderers.”
“Just write like you do for your fiction!”
“But it is not the same! This actually happens! We steal and plunder and take their land. We treat them like cattle and cannon fodder! Then when the people bite back, we don’t get to know what happened? To write off Zenos as a godsdamned saint?! He killed hundreds, and he bloody liked it! There’s actual people at the other side of these wars; these are not dogs biting back at their masters. This is not the glorious Garlemald, you know this Eustace! We have the greatest technologies and the greatest minds in all Hydaelyn! We could be so much better than these warmongering zealots, we-“
“Priscilla!” Eustace stopped her. He saw the flames burning deep within her eyes and he knew her heart was set, but he was not going to let her dig her own grave inside of the embassy. “It seems we are getting a bit carried away... His tone became more clear and punctuated. “We may have had a bit to drink, and our business discussion got a bit heated. Dear Priscilla, we do not need to come to a conclusion today. Have some time to think about your new book, and let’s catch up soon about it. I will let your father know how well you are doing. Let me escort you outside.”
Oh. She quickly remembered her situation as Eustace’s diplomacy carried on. I sure am on the Garlean embassy yelling treason. “Yes Eustace-“ She followed suit and stood. “Let me think about this and let you know as soon as I have something. Should we meet in our usual place?”
The two safely walked outside without raising concern. The real conversation resumed when they managed to get out of the soldiers’ earshot as they walked the premises. Eustace took her hand under his arm.
“Scaevola, you might be the literal death of me. Can I change your mind?”
“You are too valuable to them, old man.”
“Watch it, I am not that old.”
“Are you asking me out?” She teased a smile.
“Priscilla-”
“I know, I know.”
“Can I change your mind? Even if you don’t take part in writing for the remembrance, please bury that story away.”
“Not on this. I cannot do that.” Her tone was serious. “Will you sell me out?”
“Pris, Pris, Pris…” He took a deep saddened breath. “You know I won’t. I will make sure the guards that heard you are well fed. But I won’t be able to fund this. If you do not comply, no one will risk to fund this. When you make your move, I will wash my hands of you. I have a family.”
“I understand. Should I leave Kugane?”
“You should be safe here, at least until the moment you publish it. This city is not under our rules, but do watch your back.” Eustace frowned. “You definitely wouldn’t be welcome in Garlemald. Maybe you can find shelter with the Troupe. But don’t expect much from those heroes you love so.” He pointed at his own third eye. “I do hope they don’t execute you on the spot.”
“Charming.”
“You don’t know what to expect from the savages.”
“They are people.”
“Can I change your mind?” he asked a third time, but she just shook her head.
Together they continued in silence until Priscilla was out of the gates to the embassy. They shared a tight hug upon realizing it was the end of their partnership. She quietly parted and walked away, holding back the swirling emotions within her.
Her plans for the night wildly changed - from finding her new favorite seamstress and ordering some new clothes, to sending her life into an unexpected turmoil of uncertainty and adventure. Tears escaped her eyes as she hurriedly passed Serbius on her way back, his plain worry masked by his imperial helmet. Priscilla’s eyes were stressed and worried but her head soared like a bird to the sky. She entered her apartment and quickly prepared a bath as she contemplated a life aboard the Prima Vista. She dreamed of maybe meeting this band of adventurers that had time and time again shed tears and blood for their own safety and homeland. She dreamed of Garlemald, her glorious Garlemald. Not the power-hungry subjugators, but what was at its core: a home of brilliance and ingenuity. She dreamed of a metropolis of commerce and arts. She dreamed that maybe, just maybe, she could have a hand in making her vision a reality.
Priscilla made a fair deal with the Confederacy. She heard rumors of a band pertaining to the Riskbreakers that crossed the Ruby Sea and their help with the liberation efforts. If she were to continue her book she was in dire need of facts and data. For this she scheduled a set of interviews with some locals that interacted with them, but for that to come through the Confederacy needed some payment in either coin or service. Armed with her trusty rifle and a couple of stun grenades and mines she helped out the pirates smuggle some cargo across the sea. While she wore a crude bandanna to hide her heritage, it was a silently known fact and an extra price in anxiety as the cargo contained the brand of her Garlemald.
“Centurions!” They yelled, a squad of garleans approached the group as soon as their vessel touched the coast. They all carried their weapons at the ready save for what appeared to be their commander at the center. His outfit with medals indicative of a higher rank, a simple revolver as a side arm and what seemed to be a set of magitek powered knuckles gleaming from his back. The confederates raised to arms ready for an encounter. Priscilla made quick mental note of her grenades with a plan to stun them and make a run. She wished for no blood to be spilled, but it was clear neither side shared her view.
“Do not fear.” Their commander yelled out to everyone’s surprise, his arm raised a sign for his squad to stop. The centurions nervously shared glances while their weapons still pointed at their assigned enemies… talking was not their assignment. “Let us cut to the chase. We all know you posses cargo that belongs to Garlemald and we are going to take it back. Let’s reach an agreement and be our merry way. Need coin, food, supplies? Give us our crate and the adventurer and we can be sure your needs are satiated.” This time the confederate smugglers shared confused looks. The Garlean Officer let out an exasperated sigh from inside his helm as the pirates did not lowered their weapons. Priscilla’s worries grew.
Why do they want me? No, that is not right. They do not negotiate. They are just as confused. Why does that officer want with me? Is that why everyone is so uneasy?
“But eir Lentia, Sir! Our orders are not to-.”
“Silence!”
Lentia…
“The glorious kami… Serbius!” Priscilla finally spoke, another exasperated sigh left the commander.
“We have a great opportunity to regain allies on the Ruby sea.”
“But sir, the mission-“
“Serbius! Is that you?” The confederate’s confusion doubled as Priscilla seemed to know the man. He gestured again for the centurions to lower their weapon while he took off his helm. They did not listen. Under the helm was a very tired face. Long silver hair haphazardly tied back in a knot, accompanied with a silvery scruff and a semblance of a goatee. His eyes were baggy and his brow frowned like someone who hasn’t had a sleep schedule in quite a while. Priscilla couldn’t help but cover her mouth in shock. “What happened? Why are you here?”
“You happened. You and your pretend play to adventure with the savages. Your slight treason.” One of the centurions trained their weapon on her as she gestured to move closer. She stopped on her tracks.
“What, so you are assigned to watch me? What then, kill me?” Her tone breaking a mix of disgust and sadness.
“I am taking you back with me. Priscilla. Please come home, there is still a chance.”
“After what happened before? Maybe. After what I’ve seen? Never!” She glanced at the other officers. “Have you seen what you do for a living? Treating others like cattle and cannon fodder. These people are trying to get by after your little military took everything! After we took EVERYTHING from them! I won’t go back, not to that Garlemald.”
“And what in the hells are you planning to do Pris!? You are no soldier! The savages will kill you or turn you into a killer. Please listen to me, you don’t want all these blood in your hands.” Serbius barely contained his heartbroken tears.
“And you want me laying back on your bed enjoying my blood-covered coin?!. I will build a gods damned airship if I must! Or write the gods damned book, the truth of what happened. I will write absolutely everything! I guess our Glorious Garlemald would love that. They’ve like it enough to send you here to kill me!.” Priscilla was livid, but mostly sad. About her ignorant complicity to Garlemald. That they would feel threatened by the truth enough to send someone. That they would send him. That her actions had consequences, not only on herself but on others.
A moment of silence. She stared into his blue, pained, eyes as her head brought her memories. His bashful and clean face, his embrace and the tingle that he left on her lips-
Gunfire! The shaking shot from an unsteady centurion. A waking call whistling past Priscilla’s ears that landed in the hull of the confederate vessel. Fight ensued as the call to arms was realized, the pirates jumped from their ship and began engaging the garleans. Serbius senses snapped at the sound of the gun, his eyes immediately scanned Priscilla for injuries, a glance at the offending comrade, then back at her with steeled resolution.
The captain of the confederate vessel engaged with Serbius, lance of palm and razor sharp shells. Serbius skipped back a few steps in the sand to avoid the first two thrusts. Swiftly grabbing into the magitek gauntlets on his back which activated and locked into his fist with a whirring hum. He parried the third with the back of his gauntlet and jumped in the close the gap. A punch to the confederate’s liver and a discharge from his knuckles, the electric shockwave blasted the man away to splash into the water.
Priscilla grabbed one of her gadgets and lobbed it towards the officer that still pointed his rifle at him. Too high to hit him, the man smirked at her as he made ready to take another shot. She winked at him as she pressed a small trigger on her hand, causing the gadget to emit a large blast of electromagnetic pulse tuned specifically for common makes of magitek gear. The blast was strong enough shake everyone at its radius, their guns sizzling, smoking and jammed of any real power. Two centurions were left to use their secondary weaponry, which the confederates had a clear advantage over with their choice of lances and bows. The second officer improvised his own rifle into a bat and snuck behind Priscilla in her moment of brilliance. A smack on the back left her gasping on one knee.
Serbius stopped himself from snarling furiously at Priscilla’s assailant, his attention now shifted from the confederates to his comrades. Instead of rushing over, he closed his eyes briefly as he quickly considered his options.
“Serbius eir Lentia, appointed furmentarium of the XIIth legion stationed at the Kugane embassy.” He spoke with a calm and unnervingly soft voice amidst the breaking battle, his hand reaching for his sidearm. He quickly pointed it towards the fellow officer who had just hurt Priscilla. A small blast of gunpowder and ceruleum, and the nervous centurion laid cold on the floor. The event momentarily stopped the fighting as he continued without skipping a beat. “I proceeded to accompany the cadets on their mission to stop the Confederacy’s smugglers based on the information that my assigned target, Priscilla bas Scaevola, had breached permitted parameters and committed treason against the great Garlean empire.” His gun moved to another of his fellow officers, a second blast. The third one pleaded his superior as he kept rehearsing his report. “The cadets were overconfident and outmatched by the great number of pirates in the confederate vessel. Great casualties were suffered in both sides of the skirmish. The remaining confederates fled the scene after their perceived defeat. Only I, Serbius eir Lentia, survived from our ranks.” He finished off the last of his team, then stared at the pirates with tired eyes. “My assigned target, Priscilla bas Scaevola… “ he paused.
She stared in shock. Her countrymen laid bloody and cold, felled by Serbius’ hand. The confederate pirates saw best to disengage. They took the furmentarium practiced speech as both an instruction and a threat from a man willing to offhandedly kill his own for the sake of his mission. Priscilla rushed to Serbius as soon as she managed to stand.
“This is the best course of action if you are to survive the day. Please Pris. There won’t be many chances like this. Let’s go home.”
“Serbius you mandman! Why? Why you?” She checked him over for injuries, tears on her eyes. He brushed her away a few times before giving up. The confederate looked the other way as they gathered their own, injured but with no casualties on their side.
“You would be dead if another took the assignment.” He replied, his eyes still pleading for her to follow.
Priscilla resisted herself from embracing him, a sudden urge to ask him to follow her instead. A kiss on the cheek as a lousy attempt to thank him. “I am sorry.” A whisper as a lousy attempt to apologize.
“My assigned target, Priscilla bas Scaevola…” A defeated sigh followed. “... Was not found at the scene. Reasons to believe a diversion by the confederacy.” He slowly put on his helmet and holstered his side arm, turning around and walking away whence he came.
The road to the resistance was arduous and perilous. In contrast to the other side of the wall, this side was a battleground filled with vestiges of a lost war and the brimstone of the ongoing conflict. Enea avoided a few Garlean patrols as she made her way to the encampment, patiently observing their routes and choosing the paths with the least amount of risk. She could not afford unnecessary fights when she carried supplies and food for the Reach.
The Reach was breathtaking, even in its almost ruined state, the waterfall and the statue of Rahlgr imposing over the Ala Mhigan Resistance. For a moment she forgot the gruesome battlefield at her back and she stood there to take in the scene. Moments later she was stopped by resistance member, snapping her back to the mission at hand. She stated her name and her cause, was shown around the area, and escorted to the storage rooms so she could finish her delivery.
Her mission was done. I should wait for further instructions, she thought for but a second before shaking her head. I will make myself useful. Her acute senses and her predilection for dark places made her choice simple: the night shift.
And so she found a place to station herself at night, a higher vantage point where she had clear view of the points of entrance and her fellow allies. The night was quiet but busy. There was no celebration , no music. The only pleasure some of these soldiers allowed themselves was a drink - maybe not even pleasure and just a relief from their pain and what they have endured. The people here fought to free their land and their people. They fought to remove the shackles of oppression. They fought for retribution against their oppressors.
Here we fight the continuation our fathers’ lost war, so the next generation won’t have to suffer. With the statue of Rahlrg as witness, she vowed to see the liberation of Ala Mhigo to the bitter end.
Less than a week had passed since a band of pirates ransacked and closed to obliterate a small Miqo’te encampment up in the forest of Dravania. The children were all taken to be sold as slaves and pets. Few of the adults survived. The ones who did either left to find justice, or they left to escape the horror and the ruins of a now destroyed village. One woman lagged behind from the rest, however, after having survived the attack she could barely walk, requiring assistance from a cane. The pain was not greater than the mourning of her friends and siblings, and the yearnings her daughter’s warmth. In the midst of the blood and ashes she conjured a plan. Ceres could not track or hunt; she was the lore-keeper and the head mother. She was going to gamble everything that remained in one old story. Cane in hand and a village at her back Ceres headed to Anyx Trine.
The road was not long, but her almost broken body made it an arduous trip. Each step felt like daggers stabbing through her calves, but the memories of her small daughter drove her forward. She walked closer to Anyx Trine and her nose twitched at the smell of dragons. It was evident they were already watching her. Somehow they weren't attacking, not yet. Maybe they sensed her resolve. Maybe there was no point in hunting limping prey. Either way Ceres arrived at the entrance. Three dragons awaited, baring their fangs.
“Child of men, you come to our domain ready to be swallowed. Why do you offer yourself as food?”
“I do not come here as food, mighty dragon. I have come to ask for your aid. I need to know how to speak to the soul like your kin do,” she said, catching her breath. The dragons snarled back in unison.
“You dare come ask for help when your kind betray our trust and kill our kin?!”
“My tribe is not at war with yours. My kind hunted and traded in the forest of Dravania in peace for centuries. I am Ceres of the Moh Nesh! Men attacked my kin as well. Our village is all but destroyed and our children were taken from us!” Her knees almost gave in, she gripped her cane with all her might. Her eyes were unblinking at the sight of the dragons and her voice cracked as she continued. “Dragons can speak to the soul without the need of words. I need to know. I need to find the children. I need to find my daughter-“
The dragon at the center leapt towards her. Their roar was ferocious and their jaws snapped shut inches from Ceres’ face. The miqo’te stood firm in the face of the dragon’s challenge.
“Fool! do you not have much to lose?”
“It is not a dragon that I fear. I already lost what was most precious. I need to find my daughter. I need your help-” The three dragons head twitched skywards as they sensed something. They quickly scurried away from Ceres.
“Where is your bow, Moh Nesh?” A fourth dragon descended from the clouds. “You come to our domain asking for help. Where is your bow, child of the moon-skinned? If I am to teach, what do I get in kind?” Ceres looked up to the fourth dragon. Their smell was different. Older. Ancient.
“I am no hunter. I told stories and raised the children of our village-”
“The mother of your ancestors hunted like no other. Before the war before the... animosity, never had I felt as young as when I hunted by her side.” The old dragon said reminiscing. “Those were simpler times. Ah, but now I see her fearless eyes were passed to you. Let’s strike a deal. Care for our brood and I will show you the voice. Fail and your flesh will be their food. Even then, it will take you a few lifetimes to learn our ways.”
Ceres’ eyes swelled with the first glint of hope she’s had in a while. There was a chance to do something after all. Even if she could not walk far she was going to find her family.
“I, Ceres of the Moh Nesh, take your challenge with pride.”
