You Want a View from the Spire [Hilana]

[Pharaoh]

Once the blazing bright orb expanded to consume the three remaining Pilgrims, they would find it was no longer blinding within. But there was another world inside the light of this simulated sun and not all of them had arrived on the same plane of it.

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Before Hilana’s vision returned to her, she would be struck by the smell of salt and the lapping of waves against wood. It would take a moment for her footing to return to her, as the floor seemed to shift beneath her stance. When her sense of sight returned to append the findings of the other senses, she would find herself on a small rowboat alone at sea. As more details emerged to her acclimating eyes, she would see that up ahead was a familiar harbour. And overhead towered the familiar monument that welcomed all who came to Solunarium by sea. The Colossi at Tertium.

The massive monument depicting Solunarium’s two Founders as unassailable titans was synonymous with Tertium. There wasn’t much the coastal city had on the capital, aside from a more diverse populace and these two, colossal sentinels flanking the only entry and exit point to Port Tertium’s harbour. They were the largest depictions of the Founders in the world, and even visiting Luxians would gape in awe in their shadow. Hilana had seen the statues on many occasions, but unlike any other instance during which she’d regarded the colossi: this time they were looking back at her.

“Child of the Sands.” Boomed the colossal exemplar of Aværys. “Thou wouldst fain toil with tinctures… potions and poisons.” Slowly, the titan crouched and extended its massive hand to scoop the little boat from the tides and gazed with an eye that might have been a planet from Hilana’s vantage. “But what doth compose thy soul, Hilana Vastialis? Be it formed of an healing herb or a vile venom?”

The colossus of Aværys rose to its full height, holding Hilana’s little boat in His palm out so that His sister-wife-statue could get a better glimpse.

“Thou wast marked by another, Vastiana.” Varvara’s voice was velvet, even at this volume. “You know of whom We speak. Tell us hence. Why shouldst thou have been singled out by such a one? What marketh thy soul that doth summon chaos to Our realm of structure?”

[Hilana Chenzira]

She looked on at her tarantula as it was chained to the altar, and one by one, the others made their sacrifices. Don’t look away. See it through. Understand. Watch. And Hilana did, until it was too bright to do so. But her other senses told her things before her eyes did. The familiar scent of seawater, the way it lapped against wood. The movement... when she could see again, she could figure out where she was. Where she had gone. And the first thing she did was look for the others. But she was alone on that rowboat, and she knew precisely where she was. Tertium. Or some version of it... but this was Tertium. She found her balance easily in the rowboat, standing on the thwart for the moment, breathing in the marked difference of the brine from the sulphur and heat of Kaladon.

As the boat drifted towards the harbour, towards the Colossi, Hilana bowed to them as she always had, even as a child, running around and dodging and weaving along the docks. She may have escaped formal schooling in favour of private tutors who had come to the herds at the behest and coin of her father for herself and therefore the other children, but she had certainly encountered the Priests, if however not on a regular schedule. Had she worn her fuller, longer skirts today, she might have curtsied. But a bow would have to do. As she straightened, she looked up at Their image, and then, much to her surprise... she realized that the statues were looking back at her. After all that had transpired today, she should have known better than to be surprised, but still...

With wide eyes, she watched as the behemoth statue of Deus Avaerys knelt down, cupping the vessel in which she stood, feeling His words reverberating through her as she looked upwards. It was almost certainly wrong to look up at those addressing her, considering who They were, but looking away somehow seemed more disrespectful. As the boat lifted, bringing her high into the sky, she shifted her weight slightly in order to make sure she didn’t send herself to her death in the water by falling out of the rowboat. But once her upwards movement leveled out, Hilana sank down onto her knees on the middle bench of the boat and kowtowed before them, using her toes to hook onto the back of the seat for balance. As the Domina addressed her, she straightened up but remained on her knees, her palms resting upright upon her folded knees in a posture of supplication.

“Your Divine Radiance, Your Argent Luminescence...” Hilana looked up at them. “I am both, Your Divine Radiance. To preserve life, you must be willing to take it. I am the healing herbs for those with whom I stand, but I am venom and toxin for those who would seek to stand against them. To know how to heal the poisons of others, you must know the poisons themselves. Should others die from the poisons that I make, then their deaths be tribute to Thee.” There were a number of plants that could give life as easily as they could take it... the only difference was in how one prepared it. One of Hilana’s favourite native plants of Atraxia was one of the most fatal in the land, but it could be eaten if it was prepared just so. But if one missed so much as a single half-step in preparing it... they would endure a long, drawn-out death.

Varvara’s words brought a realization to her like a bolt of lightning. She knew of whom They spoke? Florian. The dream spirit. Rebellion. Marked? But it had been a dream... “He approached me in a dream earlier in Ash, Your Argent Luminescence,” Hilana told Her. “He told me that he is Rebellion, and that he could help me. He asked me if I wished to rebel.” To speak of such was blasphemy of the highest order. She hadn’t told a single soul of this dream that had come out of frustration and dark imaginings, but now... She knew better than to lie or dismiss it. They had asked her about it for Their own reasons, and she could safely assume that They already knew everything about it...and her. They were at least giving her a chance to save her neck, or giving her enough rope to hang herself with.

One of the two.

“I told him that I wanted my father’s boot off of my throat,” she finished. “My... rebellion... is with him and his plans for my future. Not with You, Your realm, Your laws, Your scions,” she looked from one to the other, her face solemn. As much as Hilana was a chatterbox in nearly every aspect of her life, she seemed to know that in this instance... less was more. It didn’t escape her that she had left the staging ground of the Battle of the Rending to be brought to where she knew her own would eventually take place. Where the unstoppable force of her own hurricane would collide against the immovable object that was her father’s bulwark.

They had saved her once from a marriage to start her on this journey that led up to this moment... but now?

[Pharaoh]

The Colossus of Aværys tilted its gargantuan head as Hilana spoke of the balance between healing and affliction. With a creaking of stone against stone, dust crumbling from the places where joints would have been on a creature, albeit not a statue, He turned His titanic body inward toward Tertium. With Hilana in her little boat in the palm of his right hand which was closer to the exemplar of His sister-wife, he stepped down from the pedestal and into the water. Even this far out, the colossus was large enough that the waves only lapped at His upper abdomen as He began a slow march into the harbour.

The other statue would descend into the sea as well, to join the languid procession.

“If thou seekst equilibrium betwixt healing and harming, We would invoke thee more oft t’ward the latter. Thou art not bereft of bloodlust, as thou didst display upon the path up the mount. Thou hast hungers too long neglected. Nourish thine Atraxian soul and do as thou dost vouchsafe. A sacrifice to Us requireth no altar. The apothecary may be thy temple and thine alchemy the sacrificial blade. Wield thy craft in Our honour, and We might append it.” Aværys thundered, as He stalked farther into the harbour.

As Varvara lumbered beside Him, Hilana might note the jewelled spider of her sacrifice skittering from Her neck to Her shoulder, looking no larger than a common house spider against so massive a frame.

“Thou know’st that We were rebels once. Born to unjust and unnatural bondage ‘neath the boot of Our lessers. My brother toiled in darkness, abjured from the Sun that blazed to herald His birth, whilst I was forced to serve at the beck of ignoble nobles in palaces built on the backs of Our ancestors.

“We ascended to correct this ill-starred and unjust hierarchy. Our goal was ever order. The brief period of chaos that ensued in the wake of Our rise was a means to the end We did uphold for centuries thereafter.”

“Is it not natural for a father to rule o’er his children?” The Father of Solunarium mused pointedly. “It is the order of things that a child doth place hefty weight upon the word and will of their parent. The child who heeds not the instruction of their guardian, might dabble with danger and die for their ‘rebellion’. Is it not the parent who doth bide their progeny against playing with fire or taunting the venomous viper?

“As the Elf is the elder and wiser race who spared thy species a thousand extinctions, so is the daughter beholden to the sire. What hath thy father wrought that thou wouldst defy nature itself and speak the accursed tongue of insurrection against him?”

[Hilana Chenzira]

As the Colossus of His Divine Radiance began to move, Hilana did not seek to brace herself or move further from her position upon the thwart. She simply trusted that He didn’t intend to discard her into the water just yet, for if He willed, then it was something easy enough for Him to do, and she would have to hope that the boat would hold. She didn’t look towards Tertium, though, her gaze remained where it was upon the two Founders, what with She of the Bonds and Binding coming with them.

The Vastiana’s upturned face was on the One who carried her in her rowboat as He addressed her, and His words... they reminded her of her Great-Aunt, her instructor not just in herbalism, but the one who had introduced her to the enticing dangers of the world of poisoncraft. ’Underneath that veneer of niceness that you cling to, there’s a beautiful spirit who is capable of very dark things. The more you repress it, the more it will fester. Consider this a first step on your journey to self-discovery.’ Eliana had stated that day before she was on her way to the capital, when they had shared a visit to go over poisons, tea, and the tarot. Those cards... How true they rang now. She nodded to Him, preparing to assert her agreement to His Will, but quickly silenced herself before she could answer as Varvara spoke next.

Her eyes caught the movement of the tarantula, and that warmed something in her. It existed in this world, wherever it was. It was free of the mortal coil, and that She deigned to allow it upon her... But her attention was drawn back to Midnight’s Mother, the way Her velvety, dulcet words came forth. Hilana knew the stories, she knew them well. But hearing them directly from one of the hallowed figures upon which such centred gave them that much more meaning. She understood and appreciated that she was privileged to hear them, that They humoured her enough to speak to her like this. Hilana lacked the conceit and pretention to even consider comparing her own rebellion to Theirs - Their stakes, and what had spurred Them, were much larger than her own problems could ever have been. Would ever be. The injustice that They faced at the hands of the cruel, ancient Vastian kings of old... Their rebellion had been the correct answer. Through it, They had corrected ancient wrongs, and as She said... built order and an empire that stretched far beyond where its borders were now. Should They be freed of the bindings that held them within Kaladon... perhaps such could return to the fold. But she was no military strategist to figure such things; and while she was inquisitive of the world beyond the borders of the desert kingdom, she knew she lacked the experience of life outside of it that one needed to fully understand the gravitas of what it would fully entail.

But when Avaerys addressed her once more, Hilana listened. He wasn’t wrong. While she had turned away from her birth father, she had hearkened closely to those that had raised her. Her guardians, her head wolves, and through them she had learned to obey. To trust the instincts, knowledge, and orders of those above her, of those who knew better, of those who had the experience... and had the interests of the pack, including herself, at heart. His words struck true; because while she had burned herself more than once on hot things... her elder brother had passed as a toddler from being on the receiving end of a snakebite. By the time they had realized, it was too late: no amount of antivenin could undo the damage an adult Atraxian cobra caused in a two-year-old. Hilana knew all too well from her animal handling and learning of the serpents and medicine that time was of the essence after a bite occurred. That alone was likely one of the reasons her father hated her love of such creatures.

Still, she did not interrupt as she absorbed the words of the Holy Father. Why would she, if it was nature to listen? Cobras bit, it was nature. Birds flew, it was nature. Fish swam, it was nature. Children should listen to their parents. It was nature. “That is so, Your Argent Luminescence. I do know, and I do understand why You and His Divine Radiance acted. To do so was Right and Just, especially considering the suffering that You spent a lifetime enduring,” she swallowed, picking her next words carefully. This was a subject on which Hilana had ranted to Hayima'el many, many, many times in the sands, rather than vex her friends on the topic. And it would take very little for her to run off her mouth here, and she knew she needed to control herself. Disrespect, unintended or not, would not be brooked. “But my reason for fighting back against my sire’s wishes for me is that what You bade me to practice, Your Divine Radiance. My father forbids such activities. If he had known I was learning that art behind his back... he would have severed my lessons. Much of what I’ve learned and done, he does not approve of.” And what her father didn’t know of, he would have been apoplectic over. It did not matter that they were skills that were used to help her people, that he could have used to further his own goals... But beyond that, she had a feeling she was going to need to fight him in order to stay in the Capital where her friends were. Including a friend who had the blood of these very Founders in his veins.

[Pharaoh]

As the colossi made for the middle of the harbour, their faces were both tilted inward toward each other- the better vantage by which to see the mortal in the palm of Aværys. He listened to her verbal responses and observed her physical ones.

[glow=blue"If thou dost understand the righteousness of the path We took, then mark the breadth of the offence brooked by the Race of Re'ha ere We ever did suffer to erupt in the chaos of 'rebellion'. In Our epoch no deity did deign to adopt that ephemeral mantle. Ere thou dost treat with alien influences, marry, cogitate upon this." [/glow]

The statue of Aværys donned an appropriately stony expression in answer to Hilana's defence of her quarrel with her sire. Stoic stone was doubtless preferable to the pernicious alternative of a scowl, and His subsequent words would doubtless serve as further consolation.

"I will grant that not all fathers are fit. However... Thou wast incautious to speak plainly of thy whims and wishes with one who did starkly identify themselves as an agent of chaos. To tell 'Rebellion' of thy insurgent desires is to part a portal's gates through which fell things might flood. Dreams are no bulwark against the forces of chaos." He boomed.

"You speak in the language of bondage, Vastiana, a tongue in which I coined many terms... Your father's 'boot on your neck' may feel oppressive, but to seek freedom is a self-deception. There is no such thing as liberty, child... Look at Us. Uplifted to celestial heights, still have We been interred lo, these several millennia, bound by the wills of others. E'en when We walked the earth, We were yoked by the strictures of Our own domains. There will always be a Master." The tarantula skittered over Varvara's eyeball and paused to rest upon the pupil staring down at Hilana, its jeweled exoskeleton glinting in the light of the perfectly centred sun above.

"It is not thine to rebel against the Master thou hast, but to supplant Him with a greater master who might help you o'erstep him in the hierarchy. These are, in our reckoning, virtuous Hungers."

"So, then." Varvara spoke up again, "Matsi Chenzira Hilana of the Vastii..." Even with their slow steps, their massive steps were broad enough to be closing the distance to the delta rather rapidly. "The other did not ask thee what thou sought, but like a succubus did prompt thee toward his own ambitions. We will pose a more scrutinising question. We will not prompt thee toward Our disciplines. Thou know'st those. Instead, We ask you this... What, in all the world, dost thou desire most? And prithee speak to thy personal ambitions. There is no need hence to flatter Us with piety."

[Hilana Chenzira]

As calm as the Domina’s words sounded, Hilana was not so ignorant to miss the reminder. That what the Re’hyaeans had suffered before resorting to rebellion was far more than her own struggles. They who had toiled for centuries and generations, and losing a number of their children… before that had been the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. For her to even talk to Florian… for what was, at the end of the day, a trifling matter... She swallowed, and nodded, bowing her head to her. It struck her that in the time in which Her Argent Luminescence was at Her height, Hilana did not think any would dare to take up that ethereal Domain. Not when they would have had to contend against Varvara, and with Her Brother-husband, Avaerys. She considered. Florian had not told her much; but if he was as strong a player as there could be in the divine stage…what use would he have had for a single Vastian girl like herself? Especially if his Ascension was perhaps more recent.

Her gaze returned to the Father of Solunarium as He spoke, and she nodded in acceptance of His words. Hilana knew better than to try to offer excuses. Trying to plead ignorance, when she knew that talking to the strangeling in her dreams was blasphemy…even if she had been certain he was a spirit and not the god… it was unacceptable. And it might well rouse Their ire that so far she had managed to avoid awakening. Perhaps excuses were acceptable long ago when she was a child and she had gotten distracted during a lesson by a lizard in the distance. Now? Not at all. Especially not with such a serious offense. She kowtowed once more to the two of them, this time in an appeal for forgiveness for such transgression. They were right. All she could do was do better in the future, to use the head on her shoulders and the brain that was supposed to work within it. Provided she was given the opportunity to have a future after this.

She straightened up as Varvara addressed her again. Her words rang true. There was always a Master, and the difference was how much of a leash one received from them, and how firm the punishments for evoking their wrath. There was always something greater…even if that Master was their own body. Hunger. Addiction. Love. And in the end, death called for all of them. Of course, there were those horrific creatures that chained themselves to undeath to avoid it… but there was always another master.

Which His Divine Radiance confirmed… rather than rebel… appeal to another of greater strength. Dominus Æros had said as much earlier in the season; if her father should prove unreasonable in his determination to recall her, then she should convince others to step in and outrank him. And she had a number of which in this city that could do so should she only ask. This seemed to have the tacit approval of Deus et Domina, if her sire was disinclined to allow her to to embrace her skills in ways that could benefit her home and her people. Florian had suggested that he could help her if she wanted to rebel… but as They pointed out… to what end? If even the Gods were bound by their Domains… beyond that, Hilana knew that the desert kingdom was her home. Even if she had the opportunity to investigate other lands…this was in her blood. Rebellion here would not be brooked, and the idea of leaving everything behind was why she had said her issue was with her father. She loved her home. Hilana found herself nodding, her eyes going from one to the other.

But Midnight’s Mother posed a very interesting question. What did she want? What was her desire, more than anything? Her ambition? She looked from one Colossus to the other, before looking at the covered palms of her hands, biting her bottom lip. The unmoving sun that followed them made the embroidery of the sun, moon, and stars on her navy outfit glint, and the light reflected on the silver of her earrings. Power and wealth were only useful to her so long as she could use them to help her friends. Hilana had not been raised in an environment that worshiped material possessions. But there were things the daughter of the Sands loved and hated with equal measure, both of which she had encountered as she and her pack had made their way up the path to the summit of Kaladon. On one hand, she had her love of reptiles. There was awe and reverence especially for the dragons. She recalled the number of them that had been in the skies fighting above, while they had forced their way through the skirmish on the ground. Could that come true again one day?

But on the other hand, there was her visceral hatred and loathing of the Orcani. The monstrous brutes that hunted her people; where even now there were raids, according to Raithen’s time in the Guard years ago. She had encountered them at the Frost Festival just a few years prior. And they were a stain upon the world. An horrific blight. And if offense was the best defense… and since the Founders would encourage her to engage her skills in the darker pursuits that came from a botanist’s skill… she lifted her head, then. Through that, power could come. Power that she could use to assist her chosen family.

“I know Your disciplines, and I know further that they are not mine to ask for. Should You find me worthy… then that is my honour. But in terms of my heart’s desire… I would wish to see the dragons return to Your kingdom, as they did in the time of Zalkyrion and Shaqqarava. I would love the opportunity to talk to them, and if one deemed me acceptable…the honour of binding with one as happened so long ago. But such things, I would not know where to get started on achieving.” Hilana exhaled. “But something I think more actionable would be to cull the Orcani.” They hadn’t been wrong about that bloodlust that was buried deep inside the normally cheerful girl; the Vastiana’s hatred of the monsters that had hunted them for so long was deeply ingrained within her. The fear of the brutes from the stories had become intensely dark indeed. “I can improve and enhance my skills, learn and master new ones… and combine all of it… venom, plants, alchemy, maybe even the elements themselves… into a fatal cocktail that would effect only the Orcani. Let it spread through their lands and wipe them all out…with less risk of war for Your citizens.” The return of Dragons to Solunarium and the culling of the Orcani menace both benefited her home and her people. One seemed a dream, and while the other was far off…it could still be accomplished.

[Pharaoh]

As the long strides of the colossi continued into shallower water, the dearth of the additional obstacle represented by the tides diminished and their gait increased in speed. At the mention of Zalkyrion, the creaking of stone heralded the curling of a marble mouth into a crooked smirk on the visage of Aværys. He glanced to Varvara whose expression did not answer His. Something cryptic was exchanged between Them. Perhaps it was the wordless language of Twins enhanced by divinity and the sundry centuries of solitude spent together. Whatever the case, They reserved their reply until after she had completed her series of thoughts.

"Hilana of the Vastii." The Rex Regum began, "Thou spak'st the language of My Sister-Spouse and now dost thou speak in My tongue withal. In thine oratory, hear Mine ears the dulcet dialogue of Ambition. Glorious and grandiose be thine aims... hungry thy heart." There was reverence in the thunderous voice for the qualities He espoused Hilana to have exhibited in her response.

"Truly art thou born for alchemical study, for thou hast parleyed the quondam short-sightedness of past folly into hallowed high-sightedness that doth vindicate the faith We bore for the prospects of thy Vastian race." Varvara added, as Her stony soles sunk into the shallow sands of the Vasta River Delta's banks. Their next steps would be on terra firma, and would quake the very earth below. The city sprawled out in its true scale, but no signs of life dwelt below... like a massive, empty diorama.

"We would fain send thee upon a quest, Vastiana. An hallowed and holy endeavour which may take thee to distant mausoleums housing sacred reliquaries ne'er broached by mankind or to horrid, fetid domains which thine hungry heart will doubtless dread. Perhaps thou shalt find thyself in the desert's depths or even abroad of Our realms in the lands of the ancient foe of the Vastii in The Respublica Ecithianæ." The colossi were now striding on either side of the mighty Vasta, crushing estates underfoot with cavalier unconcern.

"But for the risks and pains of this exploit, wilt thou know rewards withal. And ere thou dost return to the Sacred City, We would each confer upon thee a gift to aid in thine endeavour." Varvara's visage adopted a cool, but almost maternal smile. Finally, the colossi halted Their gait in a spot that would be familiar to the Vastiana. Casting vast, foreboding shadows over the Chenzira estate, and far into the desert beyond Hilana's view, both deific exemplars turned inward toward one another. Hilana in her rowboat was held between them as Varvara raised her hand to cup that of Aværys, as if in some joint moment of prayer.

"For the first leg of thy journey shalt thou need to withstand greater heat than mortal man was born to bear. And thus do I, Aværys Imperator Transcontinens et Rex Regum Incomparabilis , bequeath unto thee, Hilana Vastialis, the Cardinalis Sigilius Elementalismi." Hilana would, at that moment, feel a searing pain at the palm of her dominant hand- it burned as it she was being scalded by the glowing hot metal of a brand. Intense as the pain was, it was gone in an instant. If she looked at her palm, there she would see the mark.

"If thou wouldst accept My gift and thy quest, this Rune shall return with thee unto the mortal coil. If thou dost reject Our quest and My gift, the latter shall melt away with this world thou dost inhabit, when We return thee to thine own."

"Mark thee that this exploit is Our suit, not Our command. Shouldst thou decline to risk life and limb for Our rewards, we shan't begrudge thee thy temperance. But neither shall We hold thee in any particular esteem, as We might if thou shouldst elect to embark upon it."

[Hilana Chenzira]

That sound of stone that revealed Deus Avaerys’ smirk on his stone face was reassurance that there was some approval for what were goals that were going to require a lot of work and effort. They hadn’t been goals set by her for Their own approval; they were goals and dreams, her heart’s desires, that she had thought of long before that question was ever posed by Them to her. If you didn’t know where you were going, any path would take you there. But without a goal, mindless wandering was mindless wandering. You had one life; it was all the better to seize it and accomplish all that you could with it. Still, as They seemed to share silent conversation, Hilana took the opportunity to check out the progress of their walk with her peripheral vision. It was a very different view from up here, but that now-familiar boom of thunder that she had come to associate with the Eternal King’s voice drew her attention back up to Them.

Hilana’s gaze went from Avaerys to Varvara, and she bowed her head to Her words. Should she return home... Her alchemical studies would need to begin in earnest, beyond reading the book she had gotten in the Umbrium, and visiting and peering into shops in which alchemists worked to see where she might be able to obtain a part time job in exchange for a hands-on education in the matter. It seemed wiser not to mention the fact that beyond forming an Orcani-specific poison, Hilana intended to make some truly incredulous teas with that same sort of magic. Given the seriousness of the situation, she didn’t think they would appreciate it. Maybe when They returned to Solunarium, and she’d made the teas...well, maybe They would enjoy them then, too. But for now, there were much more important matters at hand than combining the flavours of birthday cake with tea.

At the mention of being sent on a quest for them, her eyes widened. Not with shock or nervousness, but excitement, and the Wildness in her blood whispered with readiness as its song began. To go to places never seen broached by humans, to places that might be horror embodied... The desert was her childhood, her adolescence, and that which she loved wholly as an adult. While the possibility that she may end up in the jungles of Ecith was daunting... the soul afraid of dying never learned to live. And Varvara’s words seemed to suggest that the rewards for success would be considerable. And with luck, redemption for her grievous carelessness with Rebellion was part of it. Nothing ventured, nothing gained... and venture belonged to the adventurous.

Greater heat than man was born to bear suggested some level of fire or lava... It wasn’t just the sands themselves; Hilana had gone through the sands of Atraxia in the height of Searing, and while that was a brutal trip, it was doable without... Oh. She inhaled sharply at the pain in her right palm, but she did not need to peel away the reinforced fabric that protected her palm and knuckles to know what had occurred there. Her first Rune... and from His Divine Radiance Himself. But she did lift the glove to look at it as she released that breath, her dark eyes taking it in. Perhaps this was what They had been watching her for. Guiding her to the capital, along the journey. Had Varvara not spoken to her in the Templum, she likely would not have been invited to Kaladon to be here. This wasn’t mandatory... but it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and the thought of refusing it was anathema to her very nature.

“I accept Your gift and my quest, Your Divine Radiance,” Hilana answered Him, His Call, and brought her marked palm over her heart, bowing low to both of them. When she straightened, her eyes went back to Them. And the words that came were those she had uttered to Their descendant when they had stood before the skeletal maw of the first Crownwyrm. While she may have remained in the deferential position on her knees before Them, the sentiment was still there. “I stand committed, Your Argent Luminescence... and I will not fail You.” Either of Them. It was perhaps a bold statement, but Hilana was determined. She would succeed in this, or she would die trying. This wasn’t just something for Them... but it was something for her. A chance. Attitude made the difference between ordeal and adventure, and this proffered quest was going to be the latter.

Travel far enough... and you will meet yourself.

[Pharaoh]

"Very well." Aværys, ever accustomed to acquiescence, seemed pleased to have His expectations met by the Vastian youth. "The other mortals who did travel to the mount with thee shall perforce aid thee through thine initiation, but thou shalt brook no blights ere thou dost depart Our presence. Thou'rt well built to bear this sigil and, though it may go hard, thou shalt endure it in the end."

In unison the two mighty colossi began to slowly descend, each dropping to one knee over the estate of Gens Chenzira, so the human could look down at the courtyard where her father or some simulacrum thereof gaped up, aghast.

"The gift of My brother-husband shall aid thee on the first leg of thy journey. I shall offer thee a boon to use later in thy quest, and when thou dost see fit to walk in shadow." The jeweled tarantula crawled down Varvara's arm and along her wrist, before climbing onto the same hand that bore Hilana and her little boat.

"Behold." She intoned, as the creature emitted a rattling hiss before the sound was supplanted by the loud, sudden cracking of its exoskeleton as it suddenly seemed to implode in on itself. The cracking continued as the form lost its shape, warping inward like some sort of exoskeletal puzzle box. Finally, the shining shell took the shape of an oval a little larger than a human head. It looked like an ornate artist's depiction of an egg that might adorn the foyer of some princely palace. Until it cracked open and the remnants of the spiders crumbled to dust, revealing what lay beneath.



"The Mask of Midnight's Mother." The bone white base of the mask seemed to glow like the paler of Ransera's two moons behind ornate patterns forged in delicate silver inlay. "Thou shalt acquaint thyself with this gift on thine own time and, in learning to master its pow'rs, perhaps shalt out withal learn novel crafts which might aid thee in thy lofty ambitions."

"Don the mask." Aværys encouraged, "And look through its scrutinising eyes to regard thy father as he truly is." The colossi lowered their hands just over the highest peak of the highest roof on the estate, so she could get a good glimpse of her father. And if she looked through the lenses in the eyes of the Mask of Midnight's Mother, she would see how very many chains bound him from above, below and every side. Chains spanning across great expanses of desert and high into the sunlit sky beyond where human eyes could see. Bound by more tethers than any marionette was he... like a fly in he web of some celestial spider.

"E'en the boot upon thy neck, child, doth conceal a heavy-laden, shackled ankle. Ne'er forget thee that the closest mortals may e'er broach to freedom, be in knowing the masters of thy masters."

All at once, her father was gone along with his estate. Tertium, too, was abruptly absent and even the great hands that held her aloft were gone. Hilana tumbled onto the open stands, and found herself before a small oasis. Aværys, now no larger than a typical golden elf, lounged at the edge of the water, laying on his side with his ankles crossed, his chiseled form bare but for golden chains that hung from his shoulders and his slender waist. He was staring down at his own reflection in the waters, and Varvara stood beside him, a warm breeze causing her raven black hair to dance across her moon pale face in concert with the whipping of her silken black robes, rounded by barbed chains of silver. Her form largely hidden, as her brother's was largely bare.

"Ours is only to set thee upon the first leg of thy quest, Vastiana," Varvara noted, "Where thou shalt deliver a message on Our behalf to Our oldest of friends." She produced a scroll case, platinum forged and seeming to have been smelted shut with no discernable opening from which to draw out the missive that presumably lay within.

"Take thee this message unto the Thalamum Draconum in the Umbrium's depths. Deliver it unto Zalkyriax Zalkyrialis, and take further instruction from the forkéd tongue of the Crownwyrm."

[Hilana Chenzira]

Hilana nodded at the Rex Regum’s explanation, but she did take comfort in His encouragement. Threshold sickness was going to be waiting for her, it seemed, but she had her supplies in her packed rucksack, and if anything, she could get back to Solunarium and Sweet Remedies and Vasilei would like as not have more for her. Star thistle would be beneficial either way for most of what she could recall of the lecture her Great-Aunt had given her about the different Crafts. But between that and her companions, who all had surely forgotten more of magic than the girl knew… she was surely in good hands. She hoped that wherever world Finn and Arvaelyn were within, they had pleased the Founders. Perhaps they were already back in the mortal realm… it was not an inquiry she dared to make, however; what the Founders did with the others was Their choice. She could only hope for them and offer a prayer for their safety and their return.

As they began to kneel down over her family’s estate, Hilana watched the descent from her spot on the thwart, keeping her centre and core low where she remained on her knees upon the wood that had been worn smooth by the elements over time. Her father thus far was the only form of life that she had seen here in Tertium yet, but as he, or the image of him, gaped upwards at the Colossi looming over the expansive home and collection of buildings, the girl looked back down at him from the rowboat. She hadn’t expected to see him, but there was no fondness for him. Quite quickly, though, the tarantula was coming back down from Varvara’s arm, and her attention was drawn to its progress as she listened to the words of Her Argent Luminescence. When she saw fit to walk in the shadow… maybe that was to do with the mausoleums and such places as He had mentioned earlier.

Her eyes were wide with wonderment as she watched the tarantula as it began to twist and transform. The Vastiana kept her hands to herself, not about to even attempt to touch it during whatever arcane transformational process that it was undergoing. She was holding her breath as the ornate egg was revealed, turning her hands over on her thighs. It was beautiful, was it some sort of—

Oh.

She slowly let that breath out, looking at the exquisite mask as it was revealed. Her gaze went from it to She of the Bonds and Binding and back, carefully picking the ornate artefact up and holding it between both hands like it might shatter if she breathed on it wrong. Surely it wouldn’t, but her touch was as gentle as she was when handling paper-thin blossoms. She’d never seen anything like it, and it was for her. For her to learn to use and master, to practice with and explore.

But at His behest, she got her first lesson into the Mask of Midnight’s Mother, turning it over and lifting it to her face. There was no strap, so Hilana focused on it, willing it to stay on as she looked down at the solitary figure in the Courtyard below. The mask seemed to do so, and while she lowered her hands slightly, she was prepared to bring them up quickly just in case it slipped. But when she looked through the lenses of the mask, she saw the chains, and the sheer number of them stunned her. She knew he had a lot of calls and demands on him, between his connections and his businesses, not to mention family… but there were so many… still, if she could be left in the capital, that was one less chain Lebaoth would have to deal with.

She willed the mask off before she looked back up at Varvara and Avaerys as She addressed her - perhaps it was an unnecessary precaution, but she did remember how much Princess Cithaera had stressed that they were not to attempt any sort of investigative magics against Them, and Hilana was not about to risk it. Knowing the masters of thy masters. If you knew who controlled who… then you could move up the hierarchy under them. Virtuous hungers. But beyond that, this information could reveal a great deal in knowing who was beholden to who…and perhaps helping understand the motivations of others. If you could see who pulled the strings… there were hidden connections that were likely very easy to miss otherwise. She bowed her head in understanding, nodding.

All of a sudden, they were in an oasis, and Hilana caught herself on the sands before she tumbled to them. Her empty canvas sack was pushed aside so that the mask could be carefully wrapped in layers of soft fabric to protect it tucking it away inside one of the pouches inside of her rucksack. She looked on at them by the water, and she nodded, stepping forward to accept the sealed titanium case. It, like the mask, was secured within the bag. “I thank You, Your Divine Radiance, Your Argent Luminescence. Thank You for Your Gifts, Your Knowledge, Your Guidance, and Your Wisdom,” Hilana bowed low to them, as she had when she had first seen the Colossi from the rowboat. “I vow to put them to good use in Your names. With Your leave, I will deliver this to His Exalted Majesty.” There was still the matter of the incoming threshold sickness, but she would deal with that when it came.