Who We Were

[Yeva]

T I M E L E S S

Yeva did not know what to make of their reactions. To see an Orkhan chieftain so dismayed was unusual, even more so from a woman Yeva had known personally, whom she had witnessed in visions as being fearless and unshakeable. Even in the face of her own death's prediction, Boraba had stood tall, proud, perhaps not always, but she held a strength uncommon for one her age and had earned her relic with a doubtless resolve. Ounokt Nora's fiercest warrior.

Now? Boraba Ohadok'uvi was unsure, and it was in that moment, when the warrior peered into the vast jungle once more, that Yeva saw more than just a leader. She saw a woman, barely older than even herself, who fought for her people, and what she believed in. She saw doubt. The reflection of lightning flashed along the broken blade and the warmth of Vuka's hand cupped her own as a bandage was unrolled, twisting in the wind.

"No," Yeva pulled back, hand throbbing painfully as she clutched the broken weapon tighter still. The Seer had made no move to take it, but still, she recoiled, confused by her own actions. Her palm was hot with a biting pain, and her blood dripped quicker now, overflowing the puddle below. She shook her head in silent apology, a lie poised on the end of her tongue as she tried to close her fist while still holding the weapon shard in her other, "I'm fine. Please-"

The sun-kissed elf exhaled sharply and used the back of her hand to wipe at her damp cheeks, "Save it for later. Just... just in case."

Vuka frowned, sharing a look with Boraba who still held a furrowed brow. They didn't believe her, "I'm fine," she repeated, "I need to find the star. Look-" Unsettling, and strangely beautiful, her spilled blood joined the dark water and moved forward. Nothing about this made any sense. A sense of urgency traced the curve of her spine like an idle lover, as the feeling of unknown eyes fell upon her. She searched the shadows of the treetops nervously, taking a step towards the chaos with reluctant insistence.

A figure then moved in front of her, voice firm but agreeable, "We should move in line. I should take the lead, I can respond to danger fastest there."

Boraba nodded, motioning towards the other Orkhan, "Vuka should bring up the rear, able to support and protect you as we go. You will need to guide us. This jungle is just as vast as the lands we control in the north, to be lost is to die."

Yeva nodded, and she felt the Seer get into position behind her, "We will be careful," she whispered, nodding as she pointed in the direction of the flowing blood. Again, she wiped at her tears. No going back now. With her guidance, they began to follow the rivet, the storm coiling in anger above them as the rain began to fall, muddling the path. The ground grew steeper, and her injury did not cease in its incessant nagging. The clouds were a rich and threatening red now, her hair clung to her scalp in icy tendrils. Her clothes, which had consisted of a plain white chest wrap and double-slitted skirt, were now a dull grey, transparent where it drew tightest across her body, creating a dramatic contrast to the splashes of bright red from her palms. The path began to diverge, rocky, in some places and thorned in another. Yeva's dainty feet inched forward, her steps less practiced in the thick underbrush of jungle as her companions, but they remained by her side faithfully.

Darkness pooled beneath the leaves, many of them as large as herself, and waited expectantly. The shadows whispered, drawing her eye, even as she turned to the path leading to the great tree. She stilled. In response the leaves jostled by the storm, less thrown about like their smaller cousins. Intentional. Waving. Beckoning like a finger. Yeva shook her head. It nodded. She could not explain the phenomena if she tried, it was something she felt more than what she saw. To some, it was merely nature shifted in the wind. To Yeva, it was a conversation... and it terrified her.

Yet...

She could not shake the sense of lure. Had her journey not been filled with fear from its very conception? Every step of the way, she burned bright and the shadows nipped at her heels, never far behind. A great eclipse, unknown to her, engulfed the world as she stepped into her quest of Seer, and again, when monstrous darkness clawed its way up the Astral Sea and threatened to consume her. This path, she realized, was not unknown. It was perhaps the most familiar of them all and one she knew well. It sparked fear, yes. But there was a greater fear - the fear of losing those whom she loved - and to follow love meant she would be doing many things that scared her. Things that may even hurt her.

This was simply the way.

"It is too dark." Boraba and Vuka had been watching the Elven girl's fixation, shifting to maintain the promised formation. The leaves seemed to open like a smile, as the Mystic dipped her head beneath its shade. Yeva thought she heard a low laugh, deep and formal. The Seer slipped further into the void without warning. She could not see more than a few feet in front of her, so quickly had the lighting changed, it was akin to stepping into a tunnel. Deeper within, there was the sound of whistling.

"Wait!" Vuka's voice snapped her out of a reverie, the young girl looking up and into a bright flame. She faltered, blinded, and returned to her senses. She had moved on without them, while they had lit their torches, and now the Seer's grip was like a vice around her upper arm, "This place is..."

"We move together," Boraba had her chakram ready, and in the firelight, Yeva saw her face twisted into a scolding frown, "You guide us, but you speak. Do not wander off again."

"I will hold on to you," Vuka offered, firm, but softer. She appeared to understand a bit more how easy it was to get lost in the signs.

"I-" didn't mean to. She hardly remembered stepping into the darkness, but with an apology on her lips, a distant wailing stole her breath.

The others stepped closer. This time, it was heard by all.

Boraba stepped quickly in front of Yeva, crouching like a tiger. She waited. The crying grew louder and died off suddenly. A beat of silence. The sounds of footprints running.

What was that? "We need to move," Yeva noticed the ground was dry, and it gave her courage, "Forward."

They moved quickly. A shrill cry of laughter chased after them, and Yeva was close to running to keep up with her long-limbed companions, her heart pounding in her chest. There was a growl, the darkness pushing back against the light until eventually, all sound stopped. No more claps groans, laughs, or chasing footsteps. It was just them, standing in the dark.

Yeva was breathless when she slowed, turning to look back at the nothingness and swallowed.

"Where now?" Vuka whispered, giving her arm a gentle tug. Vuka was the Seer, and yet she referred to the younger woman's counsel.

"We're almost there."

They did not doubt her like Yeva was tempted to. She did not even know where she was going. Only that something would reveal itself soon. This was an example of Ecithean trust in those who could read the signs, and she was the one reading them. Keep going, she thought. She would not even be able to see her hand in front of her own face had it not been for the torches the others had brought, and she knew that this journey would have been an impossible one without them. It was not good to be alone in Ecith.

It held too many secrets.

Yeva, still holding the broken blade in her bloody hands, motioned them onward, and within three steps, they gasped and stood in sudden civilization.

Goblins of all shapes and sizes stared back at them, from dwellings carved into a great tree. Grackles scurried skyward, flying away with a screech, fuzzy bat wings carrying their bodies into the branches. Yeva looked on in shock, and the locals returned the look in kind. It was as if everyone was surprised, although there was a great fear in the eyes of those around them. Three women, all strangers, now stood in their home. A home, Yeva suspected, did not often get visitors.

Boraba sensed it first, her nostrils flaring. Vuka's grip fell. Something shimmered to Yeva's right and before the injured elf could react, a spear tip was poised before her throat.

[Aegis]

"Who aie t'uv? Wht hav'uv t'uv com'uv h'uvi'uv?"

This was growled by the hobgoblin whose spear had just pushed the tip into Yeva's throat, the smallest bead of blood welling up around the bone weapon. Vuka and Boraba were in similar situations, though the Chieftain was much more calm. Her muscles were relaxing now, her eyes were calmly moving from hobgoblin to hobgoblin, marking each who held a weapon, counting them. There were maybe a dozen warriors and a hundred or so civilians. She calmed and slowed her breathing. Something in the air was beginning to change, a charge. Yeva would be able to see, or perhaps feel, the hairs on her neck, the frizzy ends of her curls, beginning to stand up, pointing towards the Chieftain.

And she'd be able to see draconic scale slowly growing into place on the back of Boraba's arms and legs.

She'd know some of how the Orkhan biology worked after that fateful night with Norani. She'd know that tusks, claws, and scales could grow in times of stress, pain, and excitement. And she'd know after having asked Norani that some Orks, those who were truly the most capable of their kinds, could control this change as easily as they could their breathing.

The hobgoblin repeated the same questions as before, the tenor of his voice rising just a little bit higher. There was a small, frightened squeal, a child in clothes made from the great leaves of the trees, hiding behind a woman. There was a pause in the man, the smallest of glances up toward them, before looking at Yeva once more. His eyes were wet, they were wobbling a bit, his hands gripping his spear just a bit too tight, his throat constricting.

"Hav'uv t'uv com'uv eo h'uvrp uo?"

All three members of the group would be able to tell that the language was almost Ecitharese, but something was off. It was difficult to pinpoint, but it wasn't a dialectical difference, not like the difference between Ounokt Nora and Drathera, but similar enough to catch some words easily here and there.

The Hobgoblins continued to hold their ground, even as Boraba slid her eyes shut, the fingers in her hand opening wide, holding that position now.

[Yeva]

T I M E L E S S


The spear drew blood, the male hobgoblin clear in his capability of ending her life in an instant. She did not speak, quite still as he barked his first question. Middle-aged with dark skin, he was tall, as tall as Boraba, and with the weapon at her throat, equally as terrifying.

Yeva ceased to breathe, as she looked up and into his eyes, at the fear, the suspicion. She felt the air shift, the tension building in the air now from her own companions. Glancing once at the others, she saw the tusks elongate, the practice scales of battle emerge. They had been the intruders, but it was a grievous sin to threaten a Seer. Or… Seer-to-be, anyhow.

She could not shake her head, she could not move. She did not know what he asked, until he asked it once more with the waiver of his grip, the clenching of his jaw gave her insight. If he was going to kill her without reason, he would have. Every second he let them live was a second that could threaten this home. He wanted something, but what?

Behind him, a child whimpered, terrified.

With blood dripping from her fingers, her palms opened and the broken blade she carried fell to the ground. She presented her wounds, her vulnerability. Although she was in pain, she did not wince when she met his gaze, “I am Yeva.”

Her movements were slow, and broad to show she had no hidden agenda, no sleight of hand. Yeva touched her chest, leaving a red handprint that smeared when she removed it, as if her pounding heart had pushed outward to stamp the emblem. “Yeva.”

To her side, her eyes pointed, to each other woman respectively, “Boraba,” her gaze moved, pausing only to meet his in search for understanding, “Vuka.”

Over the many seasons she had spent with Norani, her competency in Ecitharese had grown. This tongue was different, but her knowledge of linguistics helped her vitally now. She spoke in the Ecitharese she knew, hoping now they could gather similar meaning as she had for their language.

“I-,” this time she addressed them, her voice trying to control the stress knotted in her throat, “We come from the North. City of Drathera.”

Yeva was not an imposing woman, particularly to the larger races of the continent. She was smaller, softer, and delicate in features. While she had always felt she stood out for such reasons, an ugly duckling among the natives, now she hoped to use it to her advantage. She was no threat. A harmless elf, not hardened by the land. Couldn’t he see she was no warrior? She was the weakest in body, but there was a cleverness in her eyes. Not self serving, but seeking. Honest.

What had he said? “H’urvp?” She tried again, “H’urvp.”

“Do not hurt them,” she begged to both sides, brows knitted as she searched the hobgoblin’s face. Ultimately this encounter would require more trust than she was sure either side wanted to give. She swallowed, feeling the new scratch across the hallow of her neck, “I am Yeva… Who… who are you?”

[Aegis]

The hobgoblin looked on in surprise, then pulled his spear away from Yeva’s neck. The others followed suit, though all held them still at the ready. Boraba heard Yeva’s words, and the charge in the air dissipated, the warrior relaxing. The leader looked down at the bloody hand print upon Yeva’s chest, his eyes widening, and he dropped down to a knee, his spear planted in the ground, pointing straight up. All of the other warriors followed suit.

He spoke in the same dialect but Yeva would be able to understand him well enough.

“You have come. We have long awaited your arrival."

He bowed his head, as did the rest of them, and held it for a long moment. And then they stood up. The man looked at Yeva, "I am Okuve, this is our home, Oadow Var'uv." Relief spread through all of the onlookers, the tense situation disarmed by Yeva's efforts and Okuve's acceptance. He picked up his spear, sliding it into the strap upon his back and the rest followed suit. He stepped closer to Yeva, reaching behind him into a pouch. Boraba stepped forward, placing a powerful hand on his chest before he could come closer.

Okuve pulled out a cloth, covered in runes, handing it to Yeva. "Made by our healer, this will help to cleanse your wounds of blood and fetid and urge them to shut." He stepped back from the Seer-to-be and Boraba stepped back with a grunt as well. "Please, come. We will prepare a feast for our honored guests, we have not received any in several generations." As he said that, several of the onlookers moved from their positions, scurrying off to get to work.

Okuve turned on heel, leading the way deeper into this village. Vuka looked very unsure and uneasy, Boraba guarded, and they stayed close with Yeva. The Seer leaned in close, "We have never heard of any ever surviving here in the dark reaches. We've never heard back from any who have ventured here."

Boraba though, her eyes were narrowed, seemingly focused on the warriors, her lips pressed thin and tight, just as Norani would do when holding something back. Okuve led them around the first of one of the massive trunks here, and onto a ramp of wood and rope that coiled around the tree, climbing as it went. As he climbed, more of the village became revealed, homes of wood built into the surfaces of the trees, others hanging on thick ropes, shaped as eggs, small lanterns of leave and light bugs illuminating it. And those villagers who were not busy preparing the feast kept trying to stay close, to keep looking upon this woman and her entourage with awe and deference.

Eventually, one goblin woman approached Yeva, a small green goblin baby swaddled inside a leaf. She smiled nervously at Yeva, bowing her head, and then offering up her baby. "Please, bless my child." She was insistent, nervous but hopeful, holding the wide eyed little one before Yeva. The child was squirming until the large eyes fell on Yeva and it grew still, a chubby little hand reaching out of the swaddling leaf.

They would pass through much of the villagers, many wishing to reach out and simply touch Yeva's skin, asking for a divine word, a blessing, a prayer, something. Many were handing her trinkets, fruits foreign, one even tried to give her their child, offerings. Eventually, they'd be through the throng, and standing before a huge, beautiful ornate and carved hall that floated high above the rest of the village, suspended between the trees by ropes. Across the rope bridge, Okuve led them, and through the thick doors, carved with ancient pictures of a snake and a warrior.

Inside the hall, which was clearly big enough to house the entire village, were rows and rows of low tables and cushions. There were tapestries of black leather lining the walls, from a reptile of some sort, large if the scales were any indicator. The ceiling, however, was a painted carving. A black sky, a dark forest. A shining light falling from the heavens, and a pale skinned woman with a bloody hand print upon her chest, facing down an amorphous being of darkness.

Okuve turned around, facing his honored guests, "Welcome to our hall. Please, make yourselves comfortable, food and drink will be along shortly. Mayhaps we can speak of your journey that finally brings you to us."

[Yeva]

T I M E L E S S

Spear removed, the tension in the air lessened, but the surprises continued to come. The warrior, dressed in black snakeskin with scales that seemed to shimmer with the promise of darkness, bowed his head in respect and the others followed. He was older, but not old, with his face lined by age and natural order, and Yeva, who had never been revered in such a way, watched as fellow warriors joined him in taking a knee. Did they bow for her?

Why?

The mystic glanced at her companions for guidance, but they only observed the display with weary and guarded expressions. With introductions complete and her life no longer immediately threatened, she nodded, "Well met," This man was Okuve; and the village, Oadow Var'uv. While understanding the language, which varied from Ecithian more than expected, had proven difficult the first time she heard it, each new word refreshed something in her memory, and strangely she did not find speech such a barrier. Fascinated, confused, curious, and perhaps not as skittish as good sense should have dictated, Yeva crouched to retrieve her broken dagger, slipping it within her waistband where it could hang alongside her hip.

While her hands moved, droplets of blood trickled from her fingertips, and she was only vaguely aware of Okuve stepping forward until Boraba's body flashed heat, and above her shoulder, a strong arm shot outward and a palm was planted against hobgoblin's chest to deter further approach. Another wave of unease rippled outward, but no offense was taken. The warrior merely revealed what he held, explaining its purpose. Yeva noticed he spoke to her, not the Orc who held him back and the next course of events hung entirely on her own next course of action.

"Thank you," Yeva said, reaching up to touch Boraba's arm in gentle coaxing to relax. With both hands, she accepted the offering, pausing briefly to observe the runes. There were healers here, warriors, families. The elf smiled. Boraba grunted, but the hand fell. It felt strange, to respond to a language she should not have known, "This will be put to use."

"Please, come. We will prepare a feast for our honored guests, we have not received any in several generations."

Several generations.

She did not object. Watching others scurry off for preparations, she followed Okuve, fascinated by the new culture around them. Yeva's neck craned back, to observe the walkways, the lanterns, and the dark faces that sought to catch a glimpse of this visitation.

A familiar voice cautioned her, "We have never heard of any ever surviving here in the dark reaches. We've never heard back from any who have ventured here."

Her brow furrowed, as a bead of water escaping still-damp hair, trailed down her exposed lower back, "Never?" Yeva couldn't help but look back over her shoulder at the woman, clearly surprised by the revelation. It seemed impossible given the intricate records the Orkhan scribes kept, the wild expertise of hunters, scouts, village chieftains, and the Seers. No one had known of any survivors? How was that possible? There were people in the dark reaches, entire villages of them. Yet they had remained tucked away, either hidden away or...

Found and kept secret.

Yeva followed Boraba's gaze, who in turn watched the warriors with a tight-lipped expression. It was only minutes ago a spear had been to her throat. These people - some subspecies of goblinoids, from every face she saw - had seemingly appeared out of thin air. There had been a shimmer, a silence, and then, danger. Had they killed others who stumbled here? No, she thought. Generations. It had been generations. Why then, she wondered, had it been so easy for her?

It's like a dream.

More people came, from every nook and window, hobgoblins and grackles emerged. Walkways and bridges lined with onlookers, the entire village from what it felt. Yeva had to bow her head to keep from shying away from their attention, their smiles, their reverence. She was dressed simply, but in white garb, wet from the storm, human insecurities scratched at the back of her consciousness. In contrast to those around her, Yeva had the fairest complexion by far. Although she had come a long way since her time in Zaichaer, in the days she had been pale and sickly looking, with more hair than a girl, now she was a woman. Sometime during her stay in Ecith, or perhaps even in the Astral Sea, she had bloomed. A true sun elf, so golden and out of place, she might as well have glowed. Hair like wildfire and a gaze like the setting sun, she was freckled and warm. Her ears were long and elegant, mostly hidden away by her curls, but she was slighter, softer, and much different than anything they must have seen in a while. Even Boraba and Vuka must have been a sight, but they were a part of Ecith in a natural, unspoken way that Yeva never would be.

Together, they all ascended the stairway, quiet and careful, only slightly changing formation when necessary. A hand reached out, brushing her arm. Yeva slowed, surprised, but it was a gentle, passing touch from a dusky grackle, half hidden behind bat wings and much taller than any she had seen. She smiled uncertainly, feeling a gentle nudge from Vuka to continue moving. Another hand touched her, nervously. This time, at her ankle, the perpetrator was on their knees, barely looking up to meet her eye, voice small and feminine as it gave humble praise. Yeva watched, confused. Someone pressed a foreign fruit into her palm, others joined, and a group, in regular succession took turns draping necklaces of bones and beads, natural crystals, and handspun fabric across her shoulders. She searched her companion's eye, anxious at the thought of offending, but feeling more out of place now than when she arrived at Drathera, What was happening?

Yeva didn't know what to say. These people... it was like they worshipped her. Like she was some sort of prophetess. It must have been a misunderstanding. She just needed to speak to Okuve, and-

A baby swaddled in a leaf was displayed before her. The mother boldly stepped forward, but there was nerves in her sharp-toothed smile, "Please, bless my child."

"Oh, I-" I can't, Her words fell short, seeing the mother insist with a small nudge of the child towards her. The babe, all coal and ash, turned its face towards her and stared with red eyes. Yeva stared back. For a moment, no one spoke. No one moved. The elf softened, taken with the sweet child and how snuggly it fit in the bundle of foliage. She always did have a soft spot for babies, "What is their name?"

She could always try...

Yeva pondered the request, glancing at the Orkhan with her, and wondered what they must have thought about all this. She wished they could speak for a moment privately if only to consult each other about this strange place. The child's small palm brushed her nose and then rested on her cheek, fat and tiny fingers groping experimentally. Tiny, bow lips were parted in wonder, revealing a single sharp tooth that had started to come in, "Uzu," she said the name carefully, repeated after the mother. She stepped close to the child, speaking directly. The baby's fingers found her lips, and she kissed them. Who will you become?

The mystic imagined the child growing, playing, and learning. Running through the jungle, leaping through the trees. Hiding, singing, fighting. Yeva remembered the star, the power plucked from the lattice of time, and how it had been transformed and passed along to her. She did not have this power. She did not have magic or any emblem. But she did have her wishes, her manifestations. She imagined a tendril of energy, of intuition, formed like a diamond inside her, pulled upwards from her core, traveling along her spine, swirling in her lungs, down her nerves, and through her hand, which brushed Uzu's face, emerging from the cut of her palm to wash across the child and settle in their skin. A wish of good fortune and wisdom. A blessing, and a prayer, and a small smear of blood to seal it, "May every path you walk bring you to the right place, at the right time, doing the right things."

How was that? She was still smiling at Uzu, and by the time she noticed the blood, Okuve had made his way up the walkway and waited. Yeva prepared to wash the child's face, but the mother was already beaming with gratitude and pulled back into the crowd.

Both Vuka and Boraba had watched her and she flushed, hurrying after the leader. Higher they were led, more gifts offered until she could hold no more, and they were brought to a floating building, suspended above the rest. Inside, she gasped. Intricate decorations and carvings. Snake and warrior. Tapestries of midnight scales. These were similar to the armor the hunters wore, and she reached out to hold the hands of the other women she traveled with.

"My journey is still ongoing," she said absently, still caught by the image above them. It was her... It was the darkness. Her hand twitched, aching to reach out, or perhaps because it was cut. She scooted closer to Vuka and laid her hand on her lap, as well as the medicinal bundle they had been provided. The rest of the offerings were placed around her seat, like a nest of humble gifts. Her mind stumbled for answers. For explanation.

It could not be a coincidence that she was etched into the ceiling of this fine place, that the very cut she had refused to tend to earlier would guide them here. Nor that it would be the stamp of her arrival. This was all real, wasn't it? Not any illusion? "I am here," but not here. She wasn't sure anymore. It was all so confusing, "I am looking for something important to me," she did not want to rush, and yet she did not want to lose sight of her goal. They sought the star. It was the only way she could leave the Sea. She had promised Norani she would not give in. She would come home.

"Ecith... I... I heard... I felt...." she caught herself fumbling for the right words to say, "It is too much to explain so easily," she remembered bleeding, turning down help. Walking to the tree line, the shadow of the leaves and the sharp reprimand for wandering off. The broken blade was now displayed across her lap, her reflection looking back amidst the ancient runes. "I walked through the darkness. I heard voices, but no words. Sounds like whispers. Crying... And then... the rest you have witnessed."

Yeva pointed to the art, to the woman who stood before the darkness, or beside it. She remembered a very similar darkness that clawed its way up the Sea and engulfed her until she was bound in starlight and cast across the ages, "How long has that been there?"

There were so many things she wished to ask, "Okuve... Please. Explain everything. I-" She needed to know what it all meant, "I was expected?"

[Aegis]

Okuve listened intently as Yeva spoke, while Boraba wandered the hall, her fingers running over the black snake skin that hung in murals and tapestries, the muscles in her neck tight and tense, visible even across the room. Vuka stood by Yeva's side, and something about her was shaken. Her faith in something was challenged, and it rocked her to her very core.

As Yeva mentioned the voices, Okuve nodded knowingly, "That is the Vale that our home is named for. It is our protection and it is where our ancestors dwell, and where we all go when we die, to continue to protect the village. That you found your way shows that the ancestors helped you." He beamed proudly at this, comforted to know she had received the approval of those long passed.

At Yeva's following question, "That was carved by the first child, Chieftain Korug's daughter, Sibyl, of the first of our kind to settle here. She'd been blessed by our god, and she spent three seasons in a trance, carving this. Her eyes were as black as the Vale, and she did not sleep, did not eat, for our god sustained her body and her mind during her task. I am the fortieth chieftain, so that was forty generations ago."

He smiled as the first rounds of villagers arrived, bearing goblets of wood and bone, setting drinks out for the guests. Afterwards, they set out drinks upon the table for others, then moved to the walls and stood there quietly. Okuve took a goblet himself, "Please, we are blessed with bounty, so drink to your heart's content." He brought the drink to his lips and threw it back heartily. For any who followed suit, they would find it to be a dark red wine of some unknown fruit, bitter and dry, leaving a sticky feel in the mouth and throat.

"After Sibyl finished her work, and her trance broke, she spoke to us. She spoke of a great and terrible star that would fall, one that could destroy our god by its mere presence. And she spoke of a pale woman that would arrive, to be the one to save our god. And this same woman would one day lead all of us, and our God, into the Vale, to reunite us with those that came before us in a paradise of our own making, a world with no stars, with no death, with no loss." He smiled softly, "After she spoke her words, Sibyl perished, and joined those who came before us in the Vale."

Soon, a procession of elderly goblinoids walked in, all in ornate dress and beads. They seemed to arrive in descending order of age, with the first wearing more jewelry than all those who followed. They sat at the remaining spots around the table, filling it in, leaving the spots for the guests and chieftain empty. They all began to chat excitedly and drink heartily.

"There is no doubt, you are the one that Sibyl predicted would come. We saw the white flash of the star pass over our village, a truly terrifying sight for us. And then soon after, you arrived. There can be no coincidence."

Now middle aged adults arrived, children in tow or in arms. They sat at the adjacent tables to the Chieftain's table and attendants brought them drinks. This was followed by middle aged adults without children, and finally young adults, until the entire village was seemingly fit into this feast to be.

The open cushions were at the head of the table, and Okuve gestured them to join the elders. Once everyone was sat, a crew of Grackles arrived in pairs, fluttering their bat wings, carrying platters and bowls between them. Roasted meats, fresh fruits and vegetables, foreign beans and nuts were laid out in great heaps. There were no individual plates or cutlery here. And all looked to the chieftain as the food was laid out. He reached toward a roasted beast of some sort, grasping a chunk of flesh and ripping it off, stuffing it the sharpened teeth of his, gnashing at it, and soon, the rest of the hall fell into the joyous chatter that came with such a feast.

Yeva's position was at the head of the table next to Okuve, "Please, tell me what it is like in the world beyond the Vale. I've often dreamt of what it might be like out there. Great halls with tables as large as our hall, feasts every day, surely? Elders living well beyond their years, healers curing every ailment, and every child a happy smile. the women and men as beautiful as the three of you. How many types of people are there? Does everyone live as poets and artists?"

Boraba had sat down on Yeva's other side, but had not touched her drink nor her food. Vuka sat on the Chieftain's other side and was barely sipping at her wine. Boraba looked to reach for her goblet, before she slammed her hand down on the table, glaring at the Chieftain.

"What is the name of your god?"

Okuve smiled pleasantly, happy to answer the curiosity, "Her name is Vich'uvi, our great protector."

[Yeva]

Yeva sat in pensive silence, listening as a student before a teacher, the beautiful and young elf surrounded by the many gifts that had once burdened her arms, which promised a salvation on the horizon. For forty generations, over twelve hundred years, these dusky-skinned, forgotten jungle-dwellers and their families foretold her arrival. They awaited her, and in some strange and confusing mix-up, they believed her to be a piece of their religious history. A redeemer. One to save and restore.

"What is the name of your god?"

Boraba's energy was restless, it was seeking. It was a lion in a cage, prowling back and forth. Yeva was staring at the ground, watching absently as revered elders joined in low voices and spoke amongst themselves. They did not stare, but Yeva could feel their searching gaze. A goblet - is that where the Common word came from? - had been set before her and she peered into the liquid.

"Vich'uvi," she mouthed, even as Okuve proudly proclaimed the name, the movement of her lips catching the attention of Vuka, who stopped picking at her plate to peer intensely at the redhead.

"You knew of this?" Boroba had slammed the table when she had asked her question and now stalked forward to where Yeva sat. Her eyes were penetrating. How long? It felt as if the attention of the entire world were upon her, and their weight was crushing. Yeva did not shy away, but merely sighed, as if the burden she carried pressed upon her chest to wished to will her into a deep sleep. Strange. She had not felt fatigue once since walking the Astral Sea, but now, it was not a physical exhaustion that challenged her, but an emotional one.

Yeva just shook her head, and in her eyes was an earnest fear, a sorrow deep and mournful. Had her first vision into the Astral Sea been guided by the Chieftan before her, and had it not been a sign of death to come? Okuve still waited to hear of his predictions of the afterlife, and so she addressed him first, "There is a lot of beauty beyond the Vale," she still struggled to wrap her mind around such a place. That darkness that felt in-between, different than the plane she walked, and yet held the shadow of former life. "But I am not the one to ask of its current state. I-..." she felt neither hunger nor thirst, but the words stuck like dry bits of grass in her throat, "I have not walked the land in some time. Things have changed... I have changed... and storms are raging."

She only knew what little she had gathered in her time with Norani, but even the Southern beach felt oddly detached from the twisting chaos growing in the world. Was that Vhexur's protection? "I-" do not believe it. Cannot. It's impossible.

But was it really?

"I have never known this prophecy. I have had dreams..." of snakes. The first night she had stepped upon the continent, she had dreamt herself running from the serpent hidden among the trees. How it had watched her and pursued. How they swam in the water and a woman's voice whispered in her ear, calling her name. She swallowed.

Had Galetira known? Had Vhexur?

She looked back towards the carving, to the woman facing down the darkness. Yeva very rarely believed in coincidence, aware of the precise series of events that had to happen for many things to come to fruition, but she also knew just how fickle a life could be. One deviation, one interference and it was all reset. The elf wasn't sure what to believe anymore. Every sign had led her here, to digging up the ancient sword, to somehow passing through a strange place of darkness, to sitting before these unknown goblins that spoke a dialect both familiar and foreign. She had once sobbed at the death of Boraba, believing it to be a catalyst for destruction, and yet that same vision contradicted all that she was seeing now. It challenged everything, it demanded hard choices.

You do not need to follow this path toward Galetira and the Astral Sea. I'm told that there's very few things in this world that are cut into stone. It is a dangerous, costly, unforgiving path. Seers carry the weight of the world to help others, at the expense of themselves. If you continue, you will suffer, greatly. You will witness death and suffering in unbounding amounts. You will be a burden to those you are close to, you will find yourself hunted and persecuted and hated by many.

That had been the prophecy she had understood. That had been her agreement. Become the bearer of pain to alleviate the suffering of others. Whatever this was, the path Sibyl had predicted, how was it all woven together? She still held the wine in her hand, swirling it while the other reached to the pouch at her waist. She could feel her cards safely inside wrapped in silk, the crinkling of a candy wrapper, the stub of a cigarette, a starry dice, the ash of crumbling chopsticks. The collection of a true pilgrimage.

All the while, she tried to imagine what a being like the shadow serpent could possibly be fighting against. "What does Vich'uvi protect you from?"

While she looked down the table, at the progression of ages, she saw that she was the youngest woman at this end of the feast hall, many closer to her age beyond the elders and the middle-aged and their children, sitting somewhere in the far middle, between adults and easily identifiable teens. In the dream where the serpent had wrapped itself around her, she had ignited, struck a flame, exploding like-

a fireball soaring across the sky.

Yeva awaited the answer and stayed still for some time after. She then stood up, disappointed she could not enjoy the meal as it had been intended, and apologized, "I should eat when I have earned it. Please allow me to go," Yeva rose, bowing deeply. When they had sat down, Vuka had bandaged her hands. They were stiff as they reached into the pouch and withdrew the Riddler's boon. She looked at the Orkhan women, wishing more than anything to speak with them privately, but neither wanted to give offense, or waste time in her own self-doubt. She turned to bow towards the crowd in appreciation, clinging to the last known hope she carried. She could not let these goblins down, nor could she allow those she cared for beyond this place wait for her forever. "I must find the star as soon as I can, and contain it."

She flicked her wrist towards the table, a dark and winking dice, all shadow and starlight, clattered in delight as it rolled to its final face.

Yeva caught its eye and scooped it back into her palm.

"There is much at stake now."

► Show Spoiler

Cashing in the galactic die granted to Yeva by Vhexur in Boredom & Michief to get some luck in this thread. Per the loot requirements, I rolled a 1d6 publically. Please check #bot-commands in Discord, to see the result of 5.

[Aegis]

Boraba was seething rather openly as Yeva spoke to the chieftain. The Orkhan Chieftain of Ounokt Nora was contained, for now, out of respect, for Yeva, for the position of the Seer, but she did not try to clear the air around her. And as Yeva conversed, the Goblin listened intently, seemingly fascinated by every word of Yeva's.

And in response to Yeva's question, "There are... shadows in this land that can steal one's body from them. It is why we do not leave the protection of the Vale." He gestured over to a tapestry behind Yeva, one covered in shadowy shapes of large animals and people of many different styles, but all dark, "These shadows seem able to take any shape, but they fear Vich'uvi for she hunts them, protecting us."

At Yeva's declining of food, the Chieftain bowed his head toward her, "Of course." He watched with curiosity as the die was thrown, then confused as nothing seemed to happen. "We will be here with food and warmth awaiting your return. I wish you the best of luck on your quest."

As Yeva scooped up the die, she would find it melting in her grasp. It did not burn, just grew warm and then disappeared into her palm, forming five twinkling stars there backdropped by the night sky.

As she did, her own shadow stood up while she remained seated, growing darker and more solid, a perfect mimicry of Yeva's own form. The goblins around the tables all gasped, those closest falling back and away from the woman. Boraba was already rising defensively as the Shadow Yeva opened her mouth and out poured the same foreign and strange whisperings and sounds that Yeva had encountered in the Vale.

Boraba paused, eyes widened in shock.

But the sounds were not foreign to Yeva's ears. She could hear the truth within them. The syllables were swarming with unsteady whisperings, as though she was hearing them through them, not translating them. "The Vale... follows... Breaker of Fates."

Hands were covering ears, parents were putting their bodies around their children to protect them, but the Shadow made no movements. Okuve leaned forward, his voice raised, hands over his ears, "What... what do the ancestors say?"

Shadow Yeva raised a spectral arm, pointing southwest of the village, closing her mouth and bringing about a silence within the hall.

[Yeva]

T I M E L E S S

"Shadows that steal the body?" she whispered.

"These shadows seem able to take any shape, but they fear Vich'uvi for she hunts them, protecting us."

Yeva's brows furrowed and she felt her shoulder give a little shake of disbelief. She had never witnessed Vich'uvi's terror in the physical, and Okuve's narrative lingered long after the roll of the die knocked to silence. The Mother Serpent was the enemy to Ecith, especially to the village of the Ouknot Nora, who had lost many warriors to the fangs of the mighty primal. Its bite was sworn to inflict a curse, one that stole the shadow of its victim, until it disappeared entirely, taking life and leaving a corpse in its wake. Boraba had predictions of her final face off against the monster, once content that the end of her life would eventually end the suffering of many.

What Okuve said here challenged everything. It meant that Yeva’s involvement could make it all in vain, or shift the events formerly predicted. Was it possible they could be interwoven? Gods, her head was hurting. She closed her eyes briefly as she reached outward.

"We will be here with food and warmth awaiting your return. I wish you the best of luck on your quest."

Her fingers wrapped around the dice.

Yeva gasped.

The mystic opened her palm in surprise. A warm heat melted through her bandages and seeped from the center of her palm down each finger of her right hand like the playful tingle of electricity. The dice had vanished, and she twisted suddenly, looking around at the floor, wondering if it had slipped from her grasp. She pulled away at the wrappings secured just before the conversation started in full. The tingle lessened with each pull; no sharp bite of pain took its place. Instead, where she had been sliced by the half-blade, an inky galaxy of depthless dark swirled on the underside of her hand, broken up by five stars that twinkled in equal challenge to the nights, one for each finger.

Then Boraba seemed to be rising at once, and another movement drew her gaze. From the ground, her shadow pulled and stretched in response to the wish to leave, rising as a shade. Goblins pulled back, a drink was knocked over in fear, someone cried out in surprise. A stray fork was dropped and clattered to the ground as parents grabbed children and hands rose to shield themselves from a cacophony that rolled from the being's mouth. It was the voice of many, a collective, and it addressed her directly. Yeva and her shadow faced each other, equal height and shape. Sun and moon, night and day. Singular and plural.

She stared at its featureless face, at the outline, and knew she should have felt fear. In some ways, she did. But what does one do when faced with the impossible? Yeva stared, recalling stories she heard as a girl. Ancient fairytales of a boy who once chased his shadow, said to have had a girl who would later love him, fasten it to his feet with a needle so that it could never run away and cause mischief again. When her grandmother told her this tale, Yeva had squealed in delight and laughter at the thought, having been amused at the idea of hers running off. She imagined chasing a silhouette around the sunny streets of Sol'Valen, playing tag or hide and seek, particularly on days when her older siblings would have nothing to do with her, and the younger ones paired themselves together in play. This had been long before she had ever dreamed of Ecith. This had been before she even knew such things as dangerous shadows existed.

What stood before her did not feel playful. It had deeper purpose and as the memories of another time faded from her mind, she turned her neck stiffly, to look at Okuve, who sought her answer.

"What... what do the ancestors say?"

Her thoughts tumbled amidst the chaos of whisperings. The Vale follows the Breaker of Fates. Yeva was not certain if the place she stood was the Vale, or if the Vale was the dark space between this village and the outside world. Could it be both? Shadows that stole bodies. But... It was Vich'uvi' that stole shadows. But they said there were shadows that stole bodies? Vich'uvi' left the bodies behind. The voices continued and the pressure in her skull increased, it pushed outwards from behind her eyes and for the first time, she winced.

Like the pain the day she disappeared, her skull felt too small for what was within it.

What do the ancestors say?

Her breathing quickened. More memories. Refusing to go to sleep, refusing to lay in the darkness of her room. Getting up to get a drink of water, feeling something, someone, behind her. Chasing her. She ran up the stairs and down the hallway, not stopping until she was clearing the room in a great leap and hiding beneath the protection of many blankets and faithful nightlight. Sweating through her nightdress. crying out from bad dreams. Cold compresses and warm tea, the scent of herbs and soft singing lulling her back into reticent comfort. The swelling voices continued to fill her mind to its capacity, pushing forward memories long forgotten and surpressed.

There's a monster. Don't turn off the light.
The lamp oil was running out. Shhh.
He's waiting for you to leave. Don't go. Please don't go.
Whimpering. The taste of tears on flushed cheeks. A child's heart breaking. He won't leave.
Standing by the bed, looming.
The shadows were moving.
Here, drink this.
Yeva. Restless nights. Begging. Yeva.
He's standing by the bed. Shhh.
As long as I'm alive, I'll protect you. No one will hurt you.
Come, you can sleep with grandma tonight.

The shadow closed their mouth and the voices stopped. With it, Yeva's mind cleared of the swarm, and the fog that had clouded memories best forgotten, returned. Her breathing had turned ragged and she circled the Shadow self. It circled her in return, both taking the time for observance . They walked parallel to the other in perfect step until she stopped, and the dark shadow lifted an arm and pointed.

At last, Yeva answered the Hobgoblin now that she could be heard without shouting, "The Vale follows Breaker of Fates," she finally repeated, soft and tired. With caution, she stepped backwards to stumble southwest. The journey would continue, just as she wished for it to, "I think... that's me."

The Orcs in her company were far from at ease - no one was, she might have been the calmest - and Yeva could feel their discomfort and anger as if it were a palpable thing. Her life was the one that would pay if handing out her trust resulted in destruction.

But... What else could she do? She needed the star. She needed answers. She needed to solve things far beyond the understanding of many that should have been wiser than her.

Flexing the hand that the dice had melted into, Yeva ensured the broken sword was still in her possession and moved in the direction of, what she hoped, was the star. Her steps felt heavy, the air thick. She offered trust, but there was caution on the wind. As she made her way towards the exit, no one else in the vicinity dared make a move. The silence, too, pressed upon them like a physical weight. She hesitated, turning to look at all the faces that believed in her. What were they all thinking now?

[Aegis]

The silence did not break as Yeva made for the door. None moved, none dared to do anything, many were simply holding their breaths. Until the mighty huntress rose, following after Yeva as well. As she approached, the Fatebreaker, Yeva could see mannerisms she might recognize from another Orkhan she knew. Hands were gripped tightly into fists, forearms taut. Eyes were cast down and forward, steady and determined, nostrils flaring, footsteps light as a feather.

"I will do my duty to you, Yeva Fatebreaker."

She did not offer any further opinions.

Boraba looked back expectantly at Vuka who was paled. Her eyes were wild, scared, darting from Yeva to the carving overhead, to all of the other art and people here. She opened her mouth to speak, "I... I..." Boraba turned back toward Yeva, "Come, let us make haste."

As Yeva stepped toward the exit, her shadow reattached to her feet, then slithered up and around her body, offering no feeling of warmth or pressure, yet could be felt through a sense that Yeva may not have yet realized that she carried. The existence of something magical, something metaphysical, that can't be explained truly, but could be felt in its own way. The shadow formed a cloak around Yeva's shoulders, with a hood over her head, weightless, providing no warmth or protection from the physical elements.

Once Yeva was moving, Boraba kept pace quickly as they made their way back down to the ground. Just as they arrived, a voice rang out, "Wait!"

Boraba looked back and Vuka was jogging after them. She looked calmed and collected now, "I'm sorry, it was so much to take in. There's so much... loneliness here? Did either of you feel that? I almost thought I would lose myself there for a moment."

Boraba just nodded at the Seer, turning back to follow Yeva's lead on this mission. Fatebreaker would be quick to notice that the edges of the hood seemed to shift so as to gently point her in the direction that Shadow Yeva had pointed toward earlier. It led out of the edge of the village and back into the darkness of the Vale that seemingly helped to hide this village. This time as they traveled, there was not the strange whispers or the unusual sounds of laughter or anything of the like. Instead, as they went, the voices could be understood and heard and emotion conveyed.

"Please, help her, she's in pain."

"If she falls, the Vale will fall."

"The Fatebreaker will save her."

The words continued with warnings, cries for help, encouragement, appreciation. This went on for some time as they traveled. And then suddenly, the voices stopped, and Yeva and her crew would find themselves on the other side of the Vale, and could see the massive trees that disappeared into the storm above. And it was raining, hard, heavy droplets.

Lightning cracked and thunder followed it instantly.

Boraba walked around Yeva's side, until she could see her face. "That cloak makes you invisible when in shadow. I can see plainly into the shadows around here now, but that cloak seems to disappear you. I only saw you now when the lightning called." The chieftain looked on in appreciation for such an item, drawing her mighty chakram from her back, shifting it seamlessly into the two melee chakrams.

"Lead the way, Yeva. Let us rescue this damnable serpent. She should die an honorable death by my hand, not by this star of yours."

Vuka was quiet behind them, carrying her spear, waiting for the commands.