Legend of Ransera

On another plane, in another place, surely Akshara Leukos was turning over in her sleep, disturbed that her only daughter was giving only the barest minimum of courtesy to such people as these. But perhaps she too would have stood agog at winged women, having been denied that blessing even as her daughter had been. Kala didn't embarrass herself, though she was hardly as charming as she might have been at some Kalzasern soiree. In the end, she nodded at the woman's instructions, and turned toward the captain, who was strange but a more known, more understood quantity; they had come through the fire together, after all, to this fabled place.

To Atoria.

"Captain," she greeted again with a bow. "I am Kala Mizal of House Leukos. Should you ever come to me on my plane, I will owe you a favor for your help."

She hoped her blue eyes hadn't gone green with envy. Certainly, the boys had looked on Emerea with shock and awe—and certainly some attraction, the magic in them drawn to the complementary magic in her.

"My path led me here. I do not know where it leads next, but if we have leisure, I would be happy to speak more with you." She smiled, a bit more relaxed now that the Avialae were out of sight, though not out of mind. She nodded to her as she and her men collected their things, and then she turned and led her small party to the appointed place. She was glad to be nearer to Nessena, feeling an almost maternal instinct toward her, perhaps because she had known her as a wyrmling; perhaps because she had risked so much to help them.

Kala nodded to the port captain, but her attention returned immediately to the dragon. Having once been given permission to show her physical affection, Kala dared to reach out to touch the dragon's face again, though she moved slowly enough that the dragon could decline.

Will you be well? There was some anxiety in her mental voice.

Kala was relieved to note Nessena's needs being so assiduously seen to. All the same, she felt compelled to claim a more hands-on role in repaying her for her help.

"I am a healer of middling skill," she said to the Avialae. "Mundane and necromantic. If I can be of any assistance while I am here, please don't hesitate to call upon me. And there are dragons in our mountains. Perhaps I ought to know how to help them, as well."

But Emerea was calling, so all she could do was smile back at him and give the black dragon one last affectionate pet. Her scales felt marvelous, and Kala decided that if, when her time came, her psychopomp was anything like Nessena, then death would be flying on the back of a gentle, terrible friend, and was nothing to fear.

She nodded and returned to the captain with her entourage.

"Pardon," she begged. "This was a long time coming, but now everything is moving so swiftly. I am ready."

They followed the winged woman and Kala couldn't help but feel a resonance with her youth, when she realized she would never be able to keep up with Aquilios and Kaus because she could create life but that gift had precluded the ability to fly. She tried to calm her mind, remind herself that she had her own strengths to balance her weaknesses, but it was suddenly difficult in the presence of women who had what she wanted. Some of the fire of her youth, long banked by meditation and a sense of duty, threatened to flare within her. But soon enough, her curiosity diverted her. The diversity within her own race was miraculous.

In the Valycian Square, her eyes darted hither and thither, wide and greedy for all the sights to be seen. While she could feel Kaus wondering if Emerea joined the airship captain at the inn or if she was joined in the barracks, Kala could only whisper, "'Tis a utopia."

Kala, Kaus, Ceran, and Indric all murmured veneration to their forebears, fingertips touching heart, lips, and brow.

Kaus, ever the quicksilver twin, was startled into speech.

"The Firstborn yet live?!"

They could do naught but as they were bidden.

Kala had never seen such an abundance of dragonshards in one place, let alone one of the less common sorts. She had seen the field of illumite on the snow-swathed shoulders of the White Goddess Peak. She had delved into the Warrens with these men beside her, recovering raw lytirisite with her twin, though the others had been forced to try, and try again to bring theirs to the light of day. This was a treasure trove fit to set Tizan Veyl's mouth watering. House Zatrian's lore could not match what must be housed here. Tablets gave way to crystalline structures that held the memories of their people.

The twins shared a thought—were the memories of Vatar Tsoshi Qoros, their father, among these wonders? They shared another thought, perhaps more dangerous—could a lorestone, the pact weapon he left behind, and his daughter's growing skill with necromancy bring him back? But they were childish thoughts and best set aside with other childish things. Their father had died a hero, and bringing him back, if possible, would defy the natural order of things.

Still and all, it was a part of their marveling as the ascended without wings to the roofless top of the tower.

Encircled by Emerea's wings, Kala dearly wished she understood the language she uttered. But then it wasn't the captain speaking, it was... the Firstborn? Though Kala was the clear leader among the four, in this, Ceran and Indric were the first to respond by taking a knee. Kala and Kaus were not far behind, however. As much as they felt loved, they were overawed. Of the survivors of the Hellmaw, Emmerich and two others remained, while these seven returned to Atoria, perhaps with Garel himself. Were his memories among the mnemosyte matrix?

"Hail, Firstborn!" came from each of them. And then for the eagle-winged man, "Hail, Father!"

Whether he was spirit, memory, something more, or something different, he and the six others were all but fables to Avialae such as these. Though she felt small before these people whose knowledge and wisdom far exceeded hers, Kala felt the need to explain her presence here. Some might consider Atoria holy, sacred to the winged race. She didn't know. It would take her time to process these happenings, these revelations, let alone her feelings about them.

"Father, we have come at the behest of the Crystal Lady, the Veiled One, whose quest was brought to me by the Lady of Midnight Mourning. With the help of my brother and our friends, I have come this far, though I do not know my next steps."

If anything, these were her many times great-granduncles and grandaunts. Still and all, they were a connection with the beginning of their race. They meant more than Avaelor, which was even more shrouded in the mists of time.

Kala looked up, as did the others. They had no reason not to cooperate with these ancient Avialae.

The twins didn't flinch at the sight of the Shinsei's wedding reception, though it had become a terrible event rather than the celebration of joy and love and unity. Ceran and Indric hadn't been there, so the experience stung anew for them. There were parts of the vision that were new, however, even for the Leukos siblings. The dark figure didn't register in their memories, and the way the scene was etched out from this new perspective, she couldn't help but wonder whether—if Talon Shinsei was Arcas reborn—Sheoth, his rival, hadn't been reborn as well.

But her musings were cut short at the vision, even in silhouette, with wings. Her breath caught in her throat and she wondered if her dearest wish wouldn't be granted her without asking, merely gifted to her in order that she might better enact Mother Naori's will.

But the scene shifted and she only seemed to confirm her suspicions—the chains of Sheoth held Talon and sought his death once more. She didn't recognize the horned man; perhaps he was a Lysanrin. Though these visions showed a great deal, yet some things remained obscured. But he mattered less to her in that moment than the Avialae in bondage. Her heart surged, wondering whatever became of her friend Baudric, whether his people had welcomed him back into their oppressive fold or had murdered him.

And then they were gone, having given her marching orders.

"I can still feel them," Ceran marveled in hushed tones.

Kala looked back, her people still her priority. He looked about to weep, which made sense. House Leukos had given him a family of sorts, but now he had at least an idea what a strong bond felt like. It was difficult sometimes for the twins to wrap their minds around the absence of something they had always known. Kaus stood and grasped him by the wrist, helping him up. Indric rose with Ceran and put a hand on his shoulder. Though he was perfectly capable, it was good to see him supported in a moment of emotional vulnerability. They were warriors, but they were still men. And then all three of them were looking at her. They had seen what she had seen, what she might become.

Then she looked at Emerea, serene as a statue.

"Should I not seek the Necromancer in his tower as the Firstborn bade me do?"

The four didn't have much to say. As Emerea noted, they were processing quite a bit of information. If the weight fell heaviest upon Kala's shoulders, she had also had the most time to prepare herself, and her twin was a constant emotional support. If she had questioned Ceran and Indric's support—she hadn't—those questions would have dissipated now. They looked at her amost as if she were as fantastical as a winged woman herself, or if she were old friends with dragons and captains of the Aether Sea and fabled necromancers. If the quest had been given to her, Kaus would follow her until the Crystal Lady Herself bade him cease—and even then, he might rebel. The Silver Wings looked more determined than ever, even among the roil of thoughts and feelings. They had adopted her quest as their own.

As they descended, though, the weariness set in despite the excitement. If Garel was not an option until morning, then she would find whatever bed she might and sleep perchance to dream. There was a black dragon she needed to visit as well if she was allowed.

But finally, the tickle in the back of her mind, the sense of conversations happening just beyond earshot, made her reach out as if to Kaus, as if to Nessena, but it was to Emerea instead.

Are we all bonded here?

Perhaps the woman wouldn't react. Perhaps the blessed unity of the sexes in Atoria lent other magics to her people.

Or perhaps those sensations of connection were psychological, the product of a dangerous journey into the Warrens, across the Aether Sea, and to the Isla of Atoria. Perhaps Emerea was correct and she needed to rest.