Wet, humid, green hell… Ecith.
A jungle glistening with life, but it was fueled by decay, disease, and worse, magic. The girl, Eyla had practically stayed sick their entire stay with fevers and maladies of the stomach, her acclimation to Drathera a slow and difficult one, no doubt further hampered by her affliction via dragonshard.
Myles had done what he could to care for her, but it was a task constantly impeded by language barriers, being questioned on his ability to care for her, and the constant offers of adoption the Orkhan seemed to think was something that would not offend anyone. He’d learned a fair bit of their culture in his time in Drathera but much of it felt… contradictory, for all their might, the people of Drathera seemed to entirely eschew any forms of technology or progress, made further strange by there grasp of arts and mathematics, something he had not expected from them. If it was from contentedness, or spite for the empire he was unsure, but he found the lack of the trappings of more refined society disturbing in the face of the organization and civility the people tended to display.
Finding work and odd jobs to cover their meager expenses in drathera had been another headache, having to first prove to any potential employers he was an adult, even in spite of the scruffy beard he was slowly growing, his face hadn’t seen a razor in over a month he reckoned.
Maintaining his armor in the dim light of the Ecithian morning Myles fastidiously rubbed oil into the cracks and creases in his armor to keep out the perpetual humidity that wished to erode his gear. Eyla Slept soundly nearby, her last fever had broken the night prior and he’d been able to get her to eat enough the previous day that he felt confident today would be the day that the set out for the mighty stairs of Drathera.
It had taken the swallowing of much pride, but Myles could not see himself healing Eyla without the help of a god or something adjacent to one, and healing her had become the foremost mission is his life, his anchor to give him purpose. Donning his gear and battle worn breastplate, Myles belted on his sword, the corroded length of steel, still pockmarked with the magic that had arced out from the dragonshard on Eyla’s brow in Zaichaer. Now ready for the day Myles quietly ate on jerky and dried fruit watching what little diffused light could make it through the ever present rainclouds that hammered the city with and endless deluge of water. Eyeing the makeshift umbrella woven from large leaves and tar, Myles sighed, wishing the implement had not become a part of daily life, and yet, here he was.
Stooping low next to the cot that Eyla slept on Myles gently shook her shoulder tell her one baleful eye came to look at him. “good morning Eyla, still feeling better?” A quick nod was her only response. Helping her to sit up Myles sat some fresher bread and fruit before her for breakfast. As she hate myles slowly worked an ivory comb through her long blonde locks, something he’d been doing for her more and more often since they’d been in Ecith, it seemed to him that the constant wetness did not agree with her fair and wavy hair.
“we’ll be climbing those stairs I’ve been talking about today, so you’d best eat up as much as you can this morning, I imagine this is going to be an exhausting day.”
In due time the two set out into the waterlogged city heading for the stairs. As the approached them Myles heart sank as he watched roll down the stairs like a forty five degree waterfall with no top as the stairs climbed into the rain and clouds well beyond visibility.
