a long night ahead (iselya)

[Talon]

Searing 56, 122
Time: 8:30 PM
Gesindelholm

Talon followed the feeling that threaded its way through his senses. He had been spending the majority of his day walking the streets of Trashtown, lending assistance to its populace unseen. He did this either by gifting coin where coin was needed or simply intervening with his magic in ways that allowed him to remain hidden. He continued to bend the light to make his form imperceptible. Only those with powerful Semblance or other means of detecting magical beings would have been able to spot him. Between his lightbending, his use of kinetics to muffle his movements and conceal his footsteps, he had only revealed himself to the thief he had shared a meal with.

It was as he was thwarting what would have been violent mugging, he felt the tug on his awareness. It was a sense that he had grown to understand over the past few years. He could still remember when it first trickled across his senses. It had been confusing but when he focused, he could feel the soul it was attached to. Sometimes he could feel their doubts, he could feel their fear, or their frustration. The emotions of this particular one were obscured to him. That was likely due to unfamiliarity with them. But he could feel them nevertheless. He knew exactly where they were. He took his time in making his way to them. In the heart of the empire, the last thing he wanted was to expose them in a situation that would jeopardize their life.

The Emperor might have made him his hand but such a thing did not guarantee the protection of his marked followers. And Dawnmartyrs had long been hunted by Imperial authorities.

So Talon waited until it was dark out. He waited until activity died down in the Northside of Gel’Grandal. He waited until people began settling into the night life, going to taverns, finding their way to brothels and generally winding down to settle into more comfortable states. Then he set out to follow the feeling. He arrived to what could have been considered a moderate establishment. It was a building that had certainly seen better days. It was not the worst building he had seen throughout Trashtown during his ventures that day. It was not the best either. The feeling that was now firmly in his mind was coming from within the building. A small apartment, likely just a place being rented.

Talon extended his senses and touched upon the Emblem of Eminence that was his to command. He filled the emblem with his acknowledgement. He sent the warmth of sunlight, the righteous fury he felt as he enacted Justice, and the gentle welling of peace that came from Hope. He opened his eyes and wove his awareness into the dim light spread throughout the building. He followed it until he found the apartment in question. Then he followed the light inside. There were people inside. At least one person that he could feel there may have been others but that could have been the other people in apartments nearby. Talon fixed his attention on a spot that was somewhat out of the way of the apartment’s occupants. He then stepped and teleported into the room.

Talon kept his concealment up but extended it so that the corner where he now stood continued to look empty of his presence from the exterior of the building, should anyone gaze through an open window. He kept his aura tightly masked so as to further conceal his presence from magical observation as well.

From the inside of the apartment, Talon stood there. Dressed in the gold and platinum armor that he could not remove, merely change the shape of. His silver wings were tucked closely to his body. He let his hands rest at his sides.

He cleared his throat slightly so that the room’s occupants would notice him.

[Laveriel]

Nothing had gone quite right since their arrival here. One after another, things had gone horribly wrong. All the plans for the mission were unusable and she was now in enemy territory without any resources. Amongst the people that would immediately kill her should they ever find out who she was.

A part of her wondered if they should simply return back home, spending every last gold they had to return. Unfortunately, it felt wrong knowing that Arcas was still trapped in this city. But staying also meant she would need a job. Working as a necro-healer had worked well enough for her in Kalzasi, but Iselya didn’t dare do it here. Valron had learned of the process to register oneself as a mage in Gel’Grandal. They both agreed that her emblem would immediately be found out should she go through it.

The raven-haired elf placed down the plate she had been washing down and sighed. Some strands of hair had escaped her ponytail over her face, making her annoyance grow. Usually doing mundane chores helped her to take her mind off things, but her anxiety simply grew and grew these past few days.

A painful screech filled the room as she turned the faucet with considerable force. Like many things in this apartment, the sink didn’t work quite right in this apartment. The slightly broken things she did not mind, it was the smell that had bothered her the most when they first entered this place. It smelled like something had died inside about two centuries ago. After throwing open every window and door for hours every day, it had gotten better but not nearly enough.

Iselya had lived somewhere much more terrible than this place, but still, it was a long way from the home they worked hard for back in Kalzasi. All because she had thrown herself haphazardly into this mission. She might have been more than a century old, but sometimes she wondered how she could be so foolish. If only she didn’t volunteer them for this mission, they could continue living a quiet life. The Imperium had left them alone for the past five years, why did she think going to them instead would be a good idea?

Making a home and living peacefully had always been her wish ever since they left Ailos, now Iselya had ruined on some false belief that she might actually help save Arcas. There was very little she could do now and the silver elf hated it. She was useless and she knew it.

Slowly, Iselya started arranging the dishes she had cleaned in a neat stack. Her hands needed something to do, anything, to shake off the nervous energy her thoughts had caused her to build up.

It would have been a quiet night… but then she heard the noise behind her. Someone cleared his throat. Someone who wasn’t Valron. He had left to gather more intel around the city and he had specifically said he would return around midnight.

An unwanted guest.

A million things raced through her head all at once. Who is it? How did he get here? How is it that she did not hear anyone come in? As she whirled, Iratallin materialized in her hand. There was no hesitation in her swift gesture as she aimed her blade at the mysterious figure.

The moment her eyes laid upon the unfamiliar Avialae, something clicked inside. Arcas. Iselya slowly took his gleaming armor of gold, the silvery wings on his back. This man was not the demigod she had known - the one that had passed decades ago - and she had never seen Talon Novalys, the one they say was the incarnation of Arcas, before. Still, an unexplainable sense of recognition swept over her.

It took her a second later to realize that she was pointing a sword at a demigod. Her still pounding, she dismissed the blade and it swiftly faded into nothingness. “Arcas,” the elf greeted as she bowed her head, the gesture feeling awkward.

When Iselya looked up again, she opened her mouth and then closed it. What did she want to say? What should she be even saying? Should she even be saying anything? In the end, all that managed to escape from her mouth was disbelief. “How are you… I- we thought they imprisoned you here,” she said softly, her voice still dry and raw from the shock.

[Talon]

The sword materializing in her grasp and the swiftness with which she pointed it at him, ready to cut him down, gave him some small measure of relief. He was glad that she was so ready to defend herself from intruders. If nothing else, that readiness to take action would serve her well. Seeing the elven features, something clicked in his memory. He had not been reborn as Talon Novalys at the time. He had been a dark skinned human man who had fought alongside knights not so different from her. He had come to her as Andrus, a fellow Dawnmartyr and a Warforged Paladin. The very knight who had marked her and gone on to fight the Cult of Mending in the ruins of the Godspire.

When he saw her face however, emotion passed through him. His features softened. He remembered coming to her. He remembered fighting alongside her.

“Laveriel.” He inclined his head. “I am glad to see that your sword arm has not slowed.”

At her statement, he brought up a hand and gestured to the armor that he wore.

“My prison is before you. It is…complicated.” There was more he wished to say. There was more he wanted to reveal. He could not. “Until a few days ago, I was locked in a tower, bound in chains and…”

He halted. The memory of it all welled up inside of him. He pressed them down, closing his eyes with a slow exhalation of breath.

“My cage has merely become a gilded one.” He looked over the elven woman in front of him. There was much he wanted to say and he did not know where exactly to start. Andrus had good memories of her. He did not know if it was right for him to move to act as though he was so familiar with her in the face of them. He decided not to linger on it. If she broached the subject, he would. Until then, it was best to focus on what was in front of them.

“You risked much in coming here.” It was not lost on him just how much the Imperium despised the Dawnmartyr Knighthood. He would not have been surprised if one of the ulterior motives for capturing him was to drive as many knights out of hiding as possible in order to finish what they started in Ailos. He glanced around the apartment.

“Are you expecting anyone else?”

[Laveriel]

Hearing her true name coming out of a mouth wasn’t Valron almost sent her head spinning. Perhaps she shouldn’t be surprised. The man standing in front of her was a divine being, his past self had fought with her, known her. Was it hard to believe that he might share the knowledge of his past as well? Certainly not.

Still, the sound of it brought her back for a split second. To all the good things and all the bad things.

“Actually, it probably has slowed considerably. It’s been a while since I’ve been in a proper fight,” Iselya said with a nervous laugh, walking over to the dining chair near her and resting her hand on it. Her knees still felt weak after the shock and she felt like she needed something for support. She looked up at the demigod, scrutinizing him as if he could shift into the knight she knew at any moment. “You’re also him, aren’t you, your highness? The man I know as Andrus.”

One would think that her strongest memory of the demigod was the time he had saved her life, when he had come to her on the brink of death and granted a piece of his power, marking her as a justiciar. But that wasn’t the case for Iselya.

Her strongest memory of Andrus was back before she even became a Dawnmartyr. Before he became the incarnation of Arcas. The young elf had been absolutely destroyed in training by the newer aspirants - even though she had been training longer than most of them. A lieutenant had come to her and berated her about how she was unfit to become a swordsman, much less a reaver. He also told her she might as well pack up her backs and return to Auris. She then sat alone on the ramparts for hours, wondering if that was exactly what she should do.

But then this older human had walked up to her with a gentle smile. He told her that the strongest warrior wasn’t always the most skilled. At first, she had thought that it was silly and cryptic, but soon she realized what he meant. It made her want to try again, even if she turned out to be the most terrible swordsman in the order. It was only later after she was knighted that she found out his name and thanked him for his encouragement.

When he mentioned his tower, the dark-haired elf straightened. Her silvery eyes glimmered as she recalled what she saw that day. “Your tower… I think I saw it. Along with a man and a book and…” She trailed off trying to recall what she could. The vision had been swift and fleeting, but she was sure that it came from Arcas. “What does it mean?”

Iselya pursed her lips as she took in his golden armor once more. Its astounding beauty must hide something just as sinister. “I suppose freeing you from this gilded cage will not be an ordinary task.”

“Are you expecting anyone else?”

She nodded. “I’m here with another Dawnmartyr, Valron, but he won’t be back for a while. The rest of the crew… To be frank, I don’t exactly know what happened after the incident at the Circle.” Her silvery eyes glowed mildly as she recalled the warmth and light that had washed over her that day. “You were there. I could feel it.”

“We came here from Kalzasi in a Cloudjumper with other Dawnmartyrs, the plan was to help free you. But two days ago we came back to the ship and they were gone. I don’t know if something terrible had happened, but there’s no sign of them left.” A dark part of her had wondered if they had left them on purpose, stranding her and her companion in this land that hated them. That this was just some elaborate plan that would end up with her death in the hands of the Imperium. She knew it was highly unlikely, but it did cross her mind.

“Now, we are just stuck here alone and useless, I suppose.” The frustration in the elf’s voice was palpable. She did risk a lot to come here and for it to not pay off almost immediately… Iselya sighed and shook her head to herself. There was nothing she could do to change what happened, wailing about it wasn’t about to change anything.

[Talon]

T A L O N

“Talon.” He gently corrected her. There was no need to stand on ceremony for a title he likely no longer possessed. It was not lost on him that Kalzasi needed to move forward. The longer he was in the empire’s clutches, the more things that connected him to other places faded away. He had done what he could to perhaps preserve those things. He could only hope that it worked in the end.

“Not quite.” He searched for the right way to explain it. “Andrus was a carrier of my Mantle, a mortal whom I gifted my power when it was needed most but he was not me. He was akin to a torchbearer. He carried it because he chose to not because he was born with it.”

He recognized that it was likely a bit confusing. He watched her steady herself.

“In the ancient battle between Light and Dark, when Shaeoth stabbed me through the heart, a piece of my soul broke away. Were it not for that, I would have been reborn in full much sooner than the current age. As it stands, that piece of myself eventually was born as a mortal.” He left unsaid the obvious, that the mortal in question had been Talon.

“Two halves of a whole, rejoined as one. Up until that point, all the others were custodians of my divinity. They all now rest peacefully within Solace, my realm amidst the Aethereal Sea.”

He let that settle. It was undoubtedly a lot to process in an already complex situation. He did not expect immediate understanding nor would be blame her if she understood none of it. After a moment passed, allowing the thoughts to settle, he continued.

“I say all of this to let you know that while I know the man you fought beside, the man you likely admired, a man who has shared much of his memories and experiences with me, I am not him. But I respect and honor his memory. For that reason, I must be truthful with you so that you may approach our interaction with as clear and shrewd a mind as possible, unclouded by past trust.” He knew that saying such a thing likely will have lowered him in her eyes. If he aroused her suspicion, that was a good thing. He did not want her to trust and follow him blindly. He had a great reverence for the Dawnmartyrs. There would come a day when he truly stepped forward to serve them as their patron in full but for the moment, he wanted them safe. He wanted them prepared. He wanted them ready for the days ahead.

“Rickter and others attempted to free me in Wintergatan Circle. It…it did not go well. I used my powers to intervene and send them away. Back to Kalzasi. It would have been a bloodbath otherwise.” The amount of Kathar Legionnaires that had swarmed the area immediately had been more than enough to motivate him into whisking them all away. When she revealed that she was here in Gel’Grandal with others, he looked thoughtful and concerned.

“They were likely taken by the Inquisition. It is a miracle that you and Valron have not been taken as well.” He shook his head. He studied the woman for a moment.

“You cannot stay here. You will be discovered before long. If you wish to free me, it will not happen at this time and certainly not within the heart of the empire. Whatever window of opportunity existed, it has closed.”

[Laveriel]

To claim that the Siltori understood the way Arcas’s divinity worked wholly would be a lie, but she did learn enough to know that Andrus was no more. It was comforting to hear her old mentor had reached the demigod’s realm in death, but Iselya couldn’t help feeling a bit disappointed. Without realizing it, the woman had been desperate for a connection to the past.

She nodded and gave him a salute, one not unlike the one any knight would have given to their Grand Master. “Then, let me introduce myself properly. Laveriel d’Revrinti, knight-captain of the Warforged, at your service.” The words that she had spoken a thousand times before, now felt stiff after more than a decade of disuse. It might not carry the same it used to, but there was no missing the pride still in her voice. Nonetheless, even as her head lowered in a bow, Iselya could not help but replay the last part of his words. Approaching him with a clear and shrew mind, he said, unclouded by past trust. It was a really peculiar thing to say. Shouldn’t he be someone she could follow unquestionably?

Iselya pressed her lips together as she listened to what happened in the Circle. She had been pondering for the last few days about what exactly happened. She had heard snippets about how there was an explosion, but nothing much other than that. When the Barnells disappeared too… it only confused Valron and her even more. If Talon was right and they had been captured by the Inquisiton, they would be searching for any traces of their group left behind.

“Whatever window of opportunity existed, it has closed.”

All thanks to Rickter and his friends apparently.

After meeting her new companions, Iselya had been quite reassured. Those she had encountered were all impressive individuals in their own way. She was starting to believe they might have a good chance of saving Arcas without many sacrifices. But it seemed like she was mistaken. They had discussed a plan together and for them to simply throw it away, trying to free Talon in the heart of Imperium on a whim… Iselya had risked her peace and Valron’s life for this. She knew the dangers of coming here, but she did not sign up to be trapped here just because these young ones decided they would just go for it.

Perhaps it was a reminder for her to pick her allies more wisely. However, that was trouble for another day.

“But what now? Now that the empire has you what’s stopping them from getting what they failed to all those years ago? From eradicating the last of us?” Her silvery gaze was far away, reliving a past she had tried to forget. Dark blood painting the stones of the Citadel, unidentifiable bodies in warped white and golden armor, children weeping for their parents under the rubbles.

“They can use you to find us.” Her hand rested just above her stomach, where the draegir had marked her a century ago. If Arcas himself was in no position to protect them, who will? She thought of the settlement where the Dawnmartyrs had gathered with their family, their children. How long would it take for the Imperium to start seeking them out?

Iselya looked at the avialae in front of her steadily. He was both familiar and foreign. A demigod she knew and a man she did not. She wondered how much he knew about the fall of their order, whether he had watched or whether his soul was still too torn to see it. “There must be something we can do other than run.”

[Talon]

T A L O N

“It is my honor to meet you in this life, Captain Laveriel.” He touched a hand to his chest and gave a slight nod of his head. He watched as the weight of what he said settled upon her. It was much to take in, he knew. He was certain there were questions she had that he could not answer. At least, he could not answer them at this time. He was as uncertain of the future as ever. She posed her questions. Her eyes growing distant. He could only imagine what was running through her head. The murder of people she loved, slaughtered at his hands. The very idea of it filled him with dread. He would do all within his power to avoid such a thing. He would resist such a command with every ounce of willpower inside of him.

“For the moment, I do not believe that is their priority. My leash, as far as I can tell, is held by the emperor personally. He is…” He searched for the right words. “...not what I would have expected. His focus is not on the Dawnmartyrs. He has commanded that I travel south. To the continent of Ecith, to Solunarium. More than that, I cannot say.”

His jaw flexed as he recalled the commands that he had been given during his meeting with the emperor. He was still running over many of them in his mind. To the statement that the empire could use him to find them, he shook his head.

“Yes and no. I am only capable of knowing your general direction. I will know if you are near but more than that…well…” He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. There was a pause as he searched for the right way to explain what he was about to divulge.

“I have weakened myself while I am in the right mind to do so.” He sighed and looked down at his hands. He looked at the armored suit that covered his body. “This armor is my prison. When the empire could not break me, they used an ancient artifact to strip me of my free will, of who I am, and commanded that I reforge it. It is imbued with the highest extent of my ability as a runesmith and gifted with a sliver of my own essence. I cannot break it. I cannot free myself of it because it is my own power that binds me.”

He closed his hands into fists. The weight of his humiliation and shame at such a broken defeat rest heavily upon his shoulders. He should have been stronger. He should have resisted more. Whatever he might have done however, there was nothing to do but look to the future now.

“When Rickter and the others failed, there was one among them who did not. The sorceress Lyrielle. She and I have our differences but she came to me and gave me a choice. I could take pieces of myself and give those shards of my soul to her for safekeeping.” He gestured to the armor he was trapped in.

“This is changing me. Slowly. I know it, even if I am not consciously aware of it. I know it because I was forced to complete it. What I have done is entrusted to Lyrielle the purest part of myself, the part that is attached to the people I love, the people I would protect…” He looked pointedly at the Warforged paladin in front of him. “...and the Hope that I bring to the world.”

He let that sink in. It was even more to process and he was not sure if he was properly articulating the extent of what he had done. Perhaps that was for the best. He was taking a gamble by meeting with this knight. While he still had the wherewithal to do it, he was going to do what he could to either help others free him or give them the tools they needed to defeat him.

“That piece of myself is powerful. It is, in part, blocking my ability to pinpoint those who carry my mark. As we both reorganize ourselves, his ability to do that will grow with time, I am sure. So for now, you and the Knighthood are safe from me.” He looked toward the north. He felt incomplete because he knew he was. He had only just returned to being whole again, only to have destiny pull him apart once more. He was tired. He was so very tired.

“Hope yet lives, free of the corruption the empire is infecting me with. So long as that remains true, there is still a chance. There is yet, another thing, that could help us.” He raised a hand and through a manipulation of the light he projected an image of what he saw in his head. A blade made of gold, platinum and starry black eberrite ore. The transluscent image of it hung in the air between them.

“My sword. If there is one thing that can either free me or defeat me, it is the Blade of Dawn. You must find it, Captain Laveriel. You must find it and take it to the piece of me that still carries Hope. Only in his hands will it be strong enough to be wielded as a tool to either save me…or to protect others from me.” He closed his hand, dispelling the image.

“Can you do this? Will you?”

[Laveriel]

At Talon’s explanation, the woman took a second and closer look at the armor. It was terrible enough that it trapped Arcas in the Imperium, but that it was also somehow tainting the demigod… Perhaps the situation was direr than Iselya could ever imagine. “How can the Imperium have such resources? What do they know?” the woman mused, more to herself rather than truly asking the question. “We can’t let them go on like this.” To be able to somehow strip the divine of their free will… The woman could see how much it pained the avialae before her.

Perhaps her order had been too passive, too willing to let the world progress on its own as they watched from afar. Look where it had brought them: their order was virtually decimated and Arcas was now under the control of the emperor.

As a justiciar and a dawnmartyr, Iselya was well aware of Arcas’s three domains. The part of his soul that commanded justice and light was in front of her, while hope was with this mysterious sorceress. Even after everything she had seen and experienced, what Talon was telling her would take a while to fully understand. It was good to know that hope was intact and uncorrupted, but if they couldn’t find a way to free him before the rest of him was truly lost, they would be doomed - perhaps the world too.

Much to her surprise, the demigod then conjured the image of a magnificent sword. Even before Talon said it, Iselya knew exactly what she was looking at. It was a sword she had seen before and one that she would never forget. “Novuril…” the woman whispered softly. She almost didn’t dare say it out loud for fear that somehow the empire was listening in. It was something her order had painstakingly shielded from the world, after all.

Months before the Imperium came for Ailos, they had all been preparing. For what exactly, no one knew - but the Grandmaster wanted them to take their order’s most precious collections out of the city. Priceless artefacts that she had never even heard of, secrets that most people thought were myths - all of them were to be spread across the world, hidden somewhere safe. To make sure once the Imperium came for them, there would be nothing left in Ailos to take.

The knowledge that the Dawnmartyrs possessed had always been split among them - besides the Grandmaster no one really knew about everything. Most of them were given bits and pieces, just enough to do what they were tasked to. Yet in a strange twist of fate, Iselya was exactly the one person who could say: “The blade, I know where it is.”

—————————————————————

“This is where we’ll have to part ways,” Veriel announced as she slid off her horse ungracefully, feeling unfortunately sore. They had been riding hard these past few days with barely any breaks to get ahead of the rest of their group. The other knights would arrive at the rendezvous point outside Zaichaer gradually in smaller groups - to avoid attracting too much attention.

Her comrades swiftly followed her lead and leaped down from their steeds. Thaddeus immediately approached the big tree sitting not too far to the east, most likely to plant an anchor for a temporary ward. Geia soon morphed into her hawk form and took to the skies, watching the perimeter. The rest of the knights began unloading their packs, preparing to set up camp in the small clearing. The supplies cart was quickly guided to the center, where it would be surrounded at all times.

Therron climbed down from his brown horse, helping his son off gently. He gave her a nod and they walked over to the horsedrawn cart that held most of their supplies. Together, they unloaded some of the crates until they reached a large box covered by a worn, dirty tarp. In one swift movement, she pulled the fabric off, revealing a mundane-looking container, carved out of dark wood.

Unable to help herself, the dark-haired siltori placed her pale hand on the smooth surface of the chest. She couldn’t even begin to guess just how many spells had been woven around it. No one would ever guess that it held one of the most powerful swords to ever exist. She turned back to Therron. “Getting here was the easy part, hiding such a powerful item… Well, it'll be quite the task.”

The man gave her a nervous chuckle. “Let us all just pray that I am up to the task.”

“I know you are more than capable. Everyone here does too,” Veriel reassured. She couldn’t blame him for questioning himself too. Even for a Grandmaster’s son, bearing the responsibility of keeping the Blade of Dawn safe would feel terrible. She could not even begin to fathom what it would be like to be in Therron’s shoes. “Why else would we risk our lives hauling this thing along with you halfway across the world?”

“Fair enough,” he replied. “I promise I won’t disappoint the Order then.” His gaze settled heavily on the precious box before turning back to her. “What will you do after this?”

Without even thinking, her eyes were drawn to the south. “We’ll make sure no one is following and dispatch any possible threats. When that’s done, I think I’m making my way back to Ailos.”

Therron shook his head. “Returning might be suicide. You know you are more than welcome to join us as we build a new life.”

“I am willing to risk it,” Veriel said firmly. This was a precious chance that she was about to waste. They were already out of Ailos and as far as they could there was no real sign of pursuit from the Imperium.

Before she could continue, Veriel watched as Therron’s son walked over to where they were standing, finally turning his attention away from Thaddeus’s ward casting. Even at this young age, the human child was a spitting image of Grandmaster Norick - it was almost uncanny. It was surely a sign that he would grow to be as remarkable as his grandfather.

Gregoire looked up at her with wide eyes. “Do you really have to leave?”

The knight-captain gave the boy a smile as she knelt down in front of him. The woman had never really shared this fondness for children as most people did, but after traveling for months with this human child, she could understand it.

He was barely over ten, but seeing his fiery passion to become a warrior was endearing. He had even asked her for a sword. Of course, Veriel was not giving a child a sword but after much pestering, she relented and gave him one of her small daggers, its blade laced with her signature hex. It was now strapped securely on the makeshift belt Thaddeus had made for the boy.

“Sadly, I really do. After I make sure you guys are safe, I have to return to Ailos and help our friends.” The longer she was here, the more she worried about Ryo. She could feel his growing frustration and grief with each day passing down their Bond, no matter how much he tried to shield her from it. She had to be with him. “After we leave, you’ll be in charge of keeping an eye on your father and the sword, alright?”

Despite him nodding enthusiastically, he still asked, “Can’t all of you just stay with us? The knights said that it’s dangerous and that you shouldn’t go to Ailos.”

“Don't worry, we’ll be back.” Veriel grinned, ruffling the child’s hair. “When it’s safe again, I promise I’ll be the one to pick you up and bring you back home.”

—————————————————————

She would have to make her way back to Karnor. After what happened in Zaichaer, she doubted finding Therron or Gregoire would be an easy task but it wasn’t impossible. All that mattered for now was figuring out how to get to the city from here. And she needed to do it fast. From what she could tell, the armor would corrupt more of Talon as time passed. She did not want to imagine a situation where they would need to protect themselves from a demigod.

And once they do possess such a powerful artefact… maybe, just maybe they could finally enact their justice upon the Imperium. Justice for what they had done to Ryo and everyone else. Finally.

There was a hardness, a determination to her eyes as she asked him, “This sorceress… How can I find her?”

[Talon]

T A L O N

“They know many things.” He hung his head slightly at that small admission. He could say nothing more than that on the matter. He let the knight before him process the information that he had revealed. He could see that it was weighing on her heavily. He regretted having to reach out to this veritable stranger and involve them in his plans to either free himself or ensure that he could ultimately be stopped. It was a mighty task to be giving her. That was not lost on him. When she whispered the name of the sword, his sword, he was surprised. He knew that the blade had not been seen publicly for a significant amount of time. There were times when he thought that he might be able to sense its presence somewhere in the world, just on the edges of his thoughts. Wherever it was, it was being hidden very well. The fact that she knew it purely by sight meant that this woman had likely seen it before.

“You know it.” It was not a question. Her eyes went distant as though she were reliving a memory. In all respects, she likely was. He was certain of it. He hoped that meant she would be able to find it.

“Lyrielle, the Whispered One.” That name, to a Dawnmartyr, would likely resonate with absolute shock. It was no secret among Dawnmartyr lore that the Whispered One, the enigmatic and powerful Lyrielle of Sweet Songs had been a high ranking general of Shaeoth. In spite of that, Talon and Arcas had always possessed a mutual respect for the being that was Lyrielle. She was more akin to a force of nature than something that mere mortals could truly wrap their heads around. The fact that the Whispered One had been entrusted with safeguarding a portion of his soul, the purest and some would say, most powerful portion, was a sign of just how truly desperate he was.

“You will likely find her in either Zaichaer or Kalzasi. She has been something of a mentor to me as I have matured in this life as a demigod. She remains as impossible to understand as ever but she is and always has been a woman of her word.” That much was not in dispute. Lyrielle had promised to safeguard the portion of his soul that had been entrusted to her. She had never broken a promise, not even in the old legends, he did not see a reason to believe she would start breaking them now.

“I have it within my power to send you and whomever you like to anywhere I know of on the continent. They but need to be here and I can open a doorway through the Slipspace and teleport you there. I…” He clenched his jaw. “I am forbidden to leave unless the emperor bids me to do so but I can still send others elsewhere.”

[Laveriel]

Iselya nodded, running her fingers through her dark hair. “Before the fall of Ailos, we managed to smuggle it out of the city and hide it. We didn’t want it to fall into Imperial hands.” The Dawnmartyrs knew they wouldn’t be able to handle the full might of the Imperium alone, so they did what little they could to save their resources.

Lyrielle, the Whispered One.

She narrowed her eyes at the name. During her training, history was constantly taught to them. After all, with the resources the Dawnmartyrs had, they were afforded knowledge that the general populace did not have. When Talon had first mentioned the name Lyrielle she never imagined that he meant that one. The Lady of Whispers was an infamous figure, her legend nearly rivaling stories of the divine. Trusting such a figure seemed dubious enough. Iselya certainly didn’t find the idea of delivering Arcas’s weapon to one of the former generals of Shaeoth an exciting one. “I’ll try to find her once I have the blade.” But is she truly someone to be trusted? She left the question unsaid, but her reservations would be plain to see.

The elf considered the offer. It would certainly make things easier, to simply traverse to Karnor. Also no doubt the safer option. Nonetheless, Iselya shook her head. “I still have some unfinished business here.” A sentimental one rather than a practical one, but it was still something she wanted to do. There was no way of telling when she would be able to return to the Imperium.

“And call me paranoid, but I’d sleep better at night if I was sure that no one else even had a remote idea of where the sword might be.” She hoped she did not offend the demigod. After living for more than a century, the world had taught her that you could never be too careful. It was obvious enough that Talon could not entirely explain the length of control Imperium had over him. Even though he had said that the emperor wasn’t quite interested in them at the moment, Iselya would rather not risk even the slightest chance of him figuring out where Novuril was.

“Perhaps this is a sign for us to return to the world again,” Iselya said softly. “Even if the world did not welcome us, the least we can do is help you.” It was a silly thing to say to a demigod - she realized it as soon as the words left her mouth - but she did mean what she said. They used to be a formidable force and even if their resources were scattered across the land, they still existed. Someone just needed to bring them together. It’s true that she imagined their return would be spearheaded by the reborn Arcas, but it seemed like fate had other plans. Perhaps Arcas trapped in the Imperium was supposed to be the thing that finally drive them back into the light, to stop running and start fighting once more.