Legend of Ransera

Ash 27, 122

Norani was already awake, before the sun had yet to rise. She left Yeva upon the makeshift nest of palm fronds, sleeping deeply beneath their cloaks that had served as thin blankets for the last two nights. Norani had managed the simple shelter when they arrived, but she knew they would need something more stable, more permanent, more protected. It was dangerous here, Norani was convinced. Nothing bad had happened yet, it had actually been fairly pleasant here, but Norani was wound as tight as a drawn longbow.

Norani was still trying to figure out the best way to protect Yeva as they worked to somehow figure out how to solve this supposed curse upon the Duck and her crew. She was trudging up the rocky sands of the eastern wing of the cliffs enveloping the bay. She needed to better understand her bearings, to figure out where she was, to get a chance to breathe. As her feet stomped harder into the rocks as she ascended the slope, her heart beating faster and faster, the buzzing of the insects and calls of the birds and beasts disappearing into a muffled, distant whine. Tears filled her eyes, her throat was closing and as she reached the peak, overlooking the ocean that brought them here, she fell to her knees as the panic attack took over.

How could she possibly protect Yeva? She couldn't even protect herself from her family. How could she make them safe? She was barely a soldier and hadn't finished enough of her training to know what to do. How could she be there for her best friend if she couldn't tell her how she felt? She was lying to Yeva, through omission, just as her family had done to her. And she was lying to herself for thinking she could ever even do this.

She didn't know how long she had been kneeling there when the pressure on her chest finally released, when the tears stopped flowing. She rested her haunches on her heels, and she opened her eyes, just in time to see the sun just begin to peek out from across the ocean. She looked out at the rising sun, remembering something she'd heard as a young girl. She had been told that the sun was fire, as were all the stars in the sky. This was known to Orkhan culture, and had been known for as long as they had known fire. Each star in the sky was a campfire that an Ork could find warmth and comfort and safety around. And the sun was the fire all Orkhan could find that feeling of protection.

Norani raised a hand before her, appearing to hold the sun in her palm, and she sought out memories of that warmth, of that comfort, of that safety, memories not tainted by her family's betrayal. Memories of Yeva holding her when she was the last to come in at night in Drathera, feeling out of place in a city of her peers; the memory of her and Yeva bathing in the sunlight at Nora; how safe she felt when Yeva cared for her the night her arm was broken in the storm. And pulling all of those emotions that Yeva had helped her to feel, she put a piece of herself into them, the piece she hadn't yet been able to give to Yeva. And that triggered an ignition, and a fireball formed in Norani's palm, obscuring the rising sun behind it to her.

Norani had never known how to call to fire before. She'd never even had an inclination to really even try. But now, now she knew. She had been missing something, forgetting something, hiding something. She poured that feeling into her little fireball, and she Sculpted that fire into a perfect replica of the lotus flower upon her skin. And as the sun peaked out over the lotus, she smiled, finding the warmth and safety and comfort that she needed. She dismissed the fire and sighed.

Time to get to work.

She stood up, turning to look out over their little ragtag, impromptu village, casting a long shadow over the beach. She would need to secure the treeline, get to know the elements here, and reach out with her Animus rune. She would need to adapt to here, to be more like this place, and embrace the blessing that it was, for her. This was her trial. And she would overcome it.

Then she felt a sharp pinch in her foot and looked down to see an ant with some crystals upon itself as large as one of her fingers pinching into her skin. She snarled and raised her foot to grasp the little critter. Once she had, she began to squeeze but the exoskeleton didn't even budge, not the tiniest bit of a dent, as hard as a rock. And it refused to let go. Then she felt another pinch in her other foot, and looked down, seeing several more of these ants. She tugged at the one in her hand and ripped it, and a chunk of skin off of herself, eliciting a pained hiss. Panicked eyes showed that this entire cliff point was roiling in movement. These ants were everywhere and they were swarming, for her.

When Imogen awoke for her first morning ashore, she found herself seized by a desire for motion.

This came as no great surprise. Her father, her uncle, and Ansel Gerhard had all taught the same lesson at one point or another- when assured of one's surroundings, the spirit was inclined towards rest. In uncertain times, all of the natural inclinations to fear and doubt and fidget would manifest themselves as a need for action.

She had seen it many times in the safehouses. Some witch or another, lying low for a few days after being nicked by the Order, would always chafe vehemently at commands to stay inside and do nothing. They would want to look around outside, or cast little spells of divining, or send letters; anything to establish in their heart of hearts that they had at least a little control over their situation. In the best cases, that nervous energy could be channeled into something useful, like letting them clean the safehouse or cook a meal. In the worst cases...

The worst cases didn't matter. Imogen was a professional, and so she immediately set about drawing up a plan for how she could direct her energy to improve the rudimentary campsite she shared with Carina.

"When the taut rope parts under the pull-" Imogen sang softly to herself as she set about gathering driftwood in the gloaming. There was a special kind of chill in the early morning air, something alluring, and it reminded her of an old Zaichaeri ballad about some ancient war against the northern raiders, when the Ailish prince snuck into their camp and played the part of a bard, listening to their pining laments about the sea.

"And the barest branch is beautiful-" Imogen's voice wasn't bad, but she'd never bothered to take lessons in her time at the Pfenning. She'd imagined she might get around to it one day, lured by the endless day-follows-day familiarity of her station in the High City. A small sadness, but one which faded quickly. As she picked up the bleached bone-white boughs broken on the shore, Imogen reflected on the beautiful chalk hills barely visible in the twilight beyond. Perhaps a little nervousness, a little exploration, in this new land... yes, that might be just the thing for her.

(And for Carina? She smothered the thought.)

"One moment, while it br-"

The Sunsinger's sunless song was cut short by a flash of light from a nearby rise. It looked artificial; perhaps one of her new comrades was trying to light a torch? The idea filled her breast with a sudden flash of optimism, like a single beam of sunlight cutting through clouds. Lighting things on fire was one of those things she could certainly help someone with, and she'd generally found that being useful was an excellent route to becoming friendly with others.

With this in mind, Imogen changed course, still clutching a bundle of wood in the hollow of her left arm. She thought about making some kind of noise to let the person up on the cliff know she was approaching, but discarded the notion. No matter how many times Carina had tried to teach her to whistle, her tusks had gotten in the way, and Imogen didn't trust people who walked around humming.

So it was that, silently, the Orkhan woman climbed the hill and beheld- another girl, who was... hopping about? Pulling at her own feet?

It has been said (with some justification) that Imogen Ward is an unperceptive girl, but she knew immediately that something here was amiss. She dropped the sticks she had gathered, letting them clatter to the ground, and reached out into the air in front of her, fingers closing around nothing. Nothing, that is, but the hilt of her sword.

Imogen's zweihander flared into being, surrounded by a fiery coruscation of silver light. The nova-flame cast the cliff into stark relief, bone-white radiance glinting off the thousand metallic carapaces of an entire fucking army of ants.

"What the hell?" Imogen gasped. It took her a second to piece together all the parts of this puzzle: that these ants were attacking that girl, that the ants were all around them both, and therefore... oh, there it was, yes. She was in imminent danger.

She couldn't feel any bites, but unlike the other Ork she was very much in the habit of wearing boots. Imogen didn't waste any time checking to see if the critters were making a meal of the leather, she simply grasped the hilt of her sword in both hands- and then slammed it downward, point-first, into the ground. Without looking, she ripped her spear out of non-existence, then her shield, and slammed them into the ground behind her, focusing her aether on the aura of fire around them. This formed an impromptu triangle of fire around her feet, which she hoped might give the insects pause.

"Hoy, you!" Imogen called out, "Over here!"

Norani looked just a small ways downhill whilst jumping from foot to foot to not stay long enough for the creatures to latch onto her. And there she the other Orkhan woman that had come on the journey. They had never spoken but Norani had found her multiple times on the ship and the beach head, if only because it was perhaps easier for an Orkhan to find their fellow kind.

She saw that the woman was within a barrier of flaming weapons. Smart. Maybe fire could help in this. And while Norani had no practice with fire before this very moment, she supposed learning quickly and suddenly felt in line with the element.

She Manifested flames, finding them similar to how winds moved. The two small fireballs hovered in the air as Norani thought how to best use them. Her feet were vulnerable, and she saw how the other Ork had formed a barrier. And her mind flashed back to a festival she went to once as a girl, in a village closer to the sands of Atraxia. They were known for their fire dancing there, using flaming weapons and bolas and Elementalism to bring spectacle to their performances.

Her mind snapped to the image of the flaming bolas spinning around limbs, and guided the fireballs downward, getting them as close to her feet as possible without burning them severely. The ants shurked back in fear. Norani then sent the fireballs spinning around her ankles, following the controls of winds with which she was more familiar. The effect was certainly similar to the fire bolas she had seen.

With those in place, she slowly walked to the other Ork, carving a path through the fire frightened ants. She locked eyes with the Ork, nodding in determination as she made her way into the sanctuary that had been made, finding no ants in there. Once inside, she dismissed her fireballs. In her native tongue, assuming the other Orkhan was fluent in Ecitharese, “Thank you for providing sanctuary. I do not know where these came from.”

She bent at the waist, inspecting the wounds upon her lower legs. They were minor but she’d need to wrap them up later, once they were out of this. Through the glow of Imogen’s flaming weapons, she could see that the entire cliff, every bit of stone from where it began by the beach, was roiling in the ants. But they did not cross into the sands of the beach or into the waters below.

Norani took a deep breath, standing upright. “Think we can make it back to the beach? They seem to be avoiding the sands.”

Having had a moment's peace, Imogen had to appreciate the gleaming tide of bugs surrounding her little ring of flame and steel. She wasn't a myrmecologist by trade, but she'd enjoyed watching the farmers on the hidden training ground south of the High City hunt for nests on the property whenever the sheep came back in with red boils. They'd said that the ants were a nuisance--dangerous to the incautious, to be sure, but no serious threat--but those had been ants of mortal carapace. Metal ants felt almost like cheating. If you couldn't squish them and the birds and frogs couldn't eat them, what the hell were you supposed to do about them?

Maybe lye. Metal flesh wasn't all that impressive if you melted their innards out or gummed them up so they couldn't move.

"Beach is easy," Imogen said, acknowledging the other Ork's question, "Surf might be safer, I doubt these this can swim."

Imogen's command of the Ecithian tongue wasn't bad, exactly, but her accent and the extra time she took with some words made it glaringly clear that she wasn't a native speaker. Her father and uncle had insisted on bringing the family up with it, and for once her mother had thought it sound. ("After all, what if we should have to flee Zaichaer in haste?")

A couple of ideas passed through Imogen's mind as she contemplated the problem. She could easily scamper down the cliffside as a lemur, of course, but that would do the other girl no good- and her feet were bleeding, though Imogen could not see at a glance if the wounds were severe. Probably better to avoid any acrobatics, there was no reason not to simply walk back the way she'd come.

Well, no reason except for the limitless army of roiling metal ants, anyway.

"...I'll clear a path." the witch assured Norani. "They don't seem to like the fire, but it will do you no harm if you're quick. Just be sure to hurry."

Imogen placed her hand on the sword sticking out of the ground next to her, both to steady herself and to help picture it with absolute clarity in her mind. This particular technique was relatively new to her, and she'd had little chance to practice since the fight against the Theatergoers months past, so she prepared herself mentally for the strain of it as best she could. Truth be told, it felt like an incredible waste of aether; but she had no plans to fight again today. Whatever, indecision killed more warriors than poor choices.

Once the image was in her head, the Ork woman raised a hand, and murmured: "Think of these thoughts as limitless light..."

The Sunsinger's body stiffened as she drew a great quantity of power through the Rune of Reaving, and her eyes narrowed with focus. The slow dawn atop the cliffside turned to silver noon as dozens of copies of Imogen's zweihander began to manifest themselves in the air a dozen meters up, each barely resolving into matter before propelling themselves downward towards the swarm below. The hills roared with noise as dozens, then hundreds of flame-limned swords tore down, their impacts describing a straight, narrow line away from Imogen and Norani and down the slope to the sands below.

The witch flushed as her magic ripped through the landscape in front of the two girls, the impacts sending ants flying off the sides of the hill like droplets of silver rain. The fiery barrier began to wane as Imogen huffed slightly, winded by the effort of such an extreme volume of manifestation, but she didn't intend to stay long.

"OK, let's go." puffed the Ork, setting off into the cloud of dust kicked up by her spell.

The woman stated that she would clear a path. Norani nodded curtly, deferring to this warrior witch’s superior magical prowess in this situation. It was easy for Norani to follow the orders of magical, female Orkhan, even if she spoke like one of these ants was inside her mouth.

Norani watched in surprise and terrified wonder as the witch summoned nearly a hundred of the flaming swords. What a terrible power. It made her think back to the Imperial invasion of Ecith, would there have been many witches like her on either side of the conflict? How many people could one such as she cut down? Would they even be able to see that they were people they were killing?

A path was cleared for them, as promised though the witch looked exhausted. Dust was billowing out, and Norani grabbed at her own elemental aether, calling the winds to come dance through the path ahead of them. Something they were excited to do, to race through this fiery corridor, and carried off the dust with them. And Norani took off after the witch.

It was a markedly quick journey to the comforting coolness of the sands on the beach. Once there, Norani pulled the flames from her feet, floating them over the ants on the rocks. It was strange, that the ants would avoid the sands so strictly. Norani brushed her hand forward, pulling the winds with her, blowing some sand up onto the ants. They seemed unfazed, not noticing as the particulate bounced off their metal bodies.

Maybe it wasn’t the sand at all… maybe the beach was some predator’s territory?

Norani looked over at the witch, speaking with her hands just as much as her mouth as Ecithians are oft to do, “Thank you for helping me. You are a great witch, with quick cunning. My name is—“ She winced as she shifted her weight, reminding her of her wounds. She pulled one of her fireballs to her, illuminating her body as she knelt down. She remembered a trick from her village, one she’d used as a kid but hadn’t used through her magic. She held out a hand, conjuring earth that smelled of the land of her village. She then conjured water that felt of her lake, and she mixed the two together into a mud. She slathered it onto her wounds, then used the winds around her to pull heat from her fireball to dry the salve on her wounds, stopping the bleeding.

Looking at the witch, “Are you injured?”

Imogen stomped along behind Norani, staggering just a little bit as she continued to maintain the swords for the critical seconds she needed them to exist. The problem with Arsenal, she had come to realize, wasn't just the cost in aether. The Rune of Reaving was a relatively efficient thing; under most circumstances, she could keep her sword materialized indefinitely and notice little drain on her power. She would suffer for such a decision when the time came at last to end the spell, but simply calling a pact weapon was easy for even the greenest noviate.

No, the problem with duplicates, specifically, was that each one independently drew both power and form from her spirit. Calling up hundreds of swords felt like she was fragmenting her mind into hundreds of pieces, each duplicate tugging her brain in a slightly different direction. She'd nearly collapsed when she'd done it for the first time, in the ruins of the Pfenning, and in that instance she'd allowed each duplicate to shatter and fade as soon as its kinetic impact had been felt.

But practice made perfect--or at least, it made one significantly better--and Imogen was used to magic which was painful to use. So it was that she kept up the manifestations as the two Orkhan women ran, and she did not stumble or fall even though the effort of maintaining her spell caused her vision to blur painfully. When the two reached the shore and Imogen finally released the magic, however, the shock of relief was almost enough to topple her.

"N-no." the Sunsinger replied to Norani, huffing with exertion, "Just winded. Not used to materializing so many at once."

That was something she'd have to work on. Arsenal was a relatively rare achievement among the Sunsingers, but the stories of the old days spoke of knights calling thousands of blades from the empty skies, each imbued with terrible purpose and seeking an enemy's weaknesses. The thought of increasing the strain of the magic by an entire order of magnitude was daunting, but Imogen was unwilling to abandon the notion as fantasy just yet.

She shook her head, turning her gaze back to her surprise companion for the morning. The other girl was slapping mud onto her wounds, then... cooking it? It surprised Imogen for a moment, but only a moment. She'd been taught before that a serious wound could, as a matter of last resort, be cauterized by the Sunsinger flame; perhaps the addition of the mud served some useful purpose in staunching the bleeding here.

"I'm Imogen, late of the city of Zaichaer, in Karnor." She didn't acknowledge Norani's compliment; if she wasn't a great witch after two decades of working at it, she ought to retire at once. "I take it you're Ecithese. You don't happen to know where we are?"

An elementalist might have some inkling, maybe. Neither Imogen's affinity for swords or wildlife had provided any clues for her.

Norani perked up at the mention of Zaichaer, and she smiled broadly, and in her accented Common. Imogen would likely notice that while Norani made the effort to speak the sounds of the language, her language and her tusks made varying words more strained. "It is nice to neet you, Inogen." She smiled, "My companion, Yeva, is.." She realized that Imogen may not know who Yeva was, the elf having been a bit of a recluse on this trip, Norani as well. "Lots of fiery hair, beautiful elf," satisfied that was enough to make her stand out from the terribly small amount of people on this expedition, "Yeva came from Zaichaer before we met." She left it at that, not sharing Yeva's own opinions of the city.

"Yes, I am from Ecith."

But Norani thought more on Imogen's additional question, before shaking her head, "All I know is that the stars and the sun say we are further south that either my village or Drathera." But Norani had never seen a map of the lands past central Ecith, for no such maps existed. As far as any modern Orkhan was concerned, the world might extend infinitely past that uncontrollable jungle and oceans. "But the animals and plants here are much the same as we have in Ecith. Many species I've encountered, I could find back home, but.. here they are... different. Not different like in the North, with the bears and wolves and sabertoothed eagles like in the stories." She still wasn't so sure exactly how to put it.

"The elements exist differently here."

Norani looked across the beach from their position, seeing the Captain there, lounging under the same coconut tree that he'd been lounging under the entire time since they'd arrived. Her eyes grew shrewd, her distrust of the man not hidden whatsoever upon her face, "The winds, the waters, they speak much like back home, but they are not alone. The plants and creatures voices can be heard when I speak to the elements too." She pondered, "Well, some of them."

She remembered how when they first arrived, she had asked the elements where they were, but while the elements tried to help, they were unable to be helpful. "The elements here are old and do not know the rest of the world. The winds have not touched upon other sails, the water has not bathed other people, the soil has known no footprints of people."

She crouched down in the sand, bringing her fireball close to illuminate it. Then she began to draw in the sand, drawing the known upper coastlines of the Ecithian continent, things that were taught to all the soldiers tasked with defending her lands. A peak of sand jutted outward, "Drathera is there." A small stone appeared to the east of it, "My village is here." Then south of both of those the map lost shape, "This is Central Ecith down here, impenetrable and impossible jungle. The Commonwealth has not been able to venture through it, or around the coastlines. The ships that tried have never come back, the explores on foot or by skies either disappear or turn back. The map is blank."

But Norani looked to the sky, "But the shadows here are longer than home, pointing southward. We are south of home, by a lot I'd guess. But where? No one but the Captain knows, and his word is," her face twisted into a snarl and she didn't finish the comment.

"Have you learned anything more about this land? What did the Captain task you with?" Norani and Yeva had seen the cursed state of the ship and her crew, and without any further information, were told that the key to breaking the curse was here. Somehow.

"South, yes." Imogen said, slowly, "That is what the elf mage, Avamande, thought. I have promised them to fly north as a sea-bird and seek the answer. Uh, soon."

She wasn't looking forward to the trip. An albatross could cross a continent in a week if it pushed, but the flight was miserable and she'd ultimately end up forced to subsist on ocean-borne carrion and insects; her only solace was that with Carina's ring, she wouldn't need to make a return flight.

The witch wasn't particularly surprised to hear Norani confirm her origins- you could tell just by looking at her dress, or her markings. The girl's talk of elements pricked her ears, though, and fatigue was driven off her face, replaced with intent. She'd noticed that the jungle trees (for they were, well, jungle trees) were wrong, a far cry from the titanic boughs of Northern Ecith, but she'd taken only minor notice of the strange elemental blessings of the assorted beasts.

"That's concerning. I saw chaos reign when the elements went mad in Gihah K'uvfoi'uv Fi'uv, first the pained madness of the fire primal, then the icy curse placed on the waters. Every single thing which goes wrong in the world changes everything else around it."

If Norani's words were true, whatever the strange thing here was had transpired long ago, and nobody had been around to bear witness. Perhaps it was something like the Clockwork Wastes, or the Warrens, where there had been some great disaster and the damage had long since settled into its own equilibrium? Hard to say. The elements were not in the habit of speaking to Imogen Ward, even though her rates for general contract services were competitive in every market.

"Ky-" something about Norani's paranoia was infectious, "-the captain never gave me any task. Carina... the small northern woman... told me that The Duck spoke to her, that it was sick or cursed."

Imogen sighed. "I thought maybe I was here because of the Sunsinger magic, the fire that burns away curses and illusions, but I do not think that whatever afflicts the ship and her crew is that simple. Beyond that, I do not see. I am a good guard, thief and soldier, but not so good a shipwright."

The Orkhan woman perked up a little. "But, if you find any monsters that need to be slain, be sure to call on me! I owe the ship a debt for bringing me to Carina again, so I will do this for no charge." It was a pretty good offer, she thought; normally, she would charge upwards of ten golden coins for a day of service.

Norani's attention snapped hard, her eyes finding Imogen's with an intense curiosity. "You've traveled through the Commonwealth?" But hearing that the elements were going mad there caused a tug on Norani's heart, one pulling at her from her Rune. She didn't even know that the elements could go mad. The thought was terrifying to the young Orkhan. If the elements lost their mind, for she was sure that they had minds of their own, that would be so bad in ways she couldn't even possibly predict.

Norani nodded solemnly, "Balance is hard to keep."

Listening to Imogen continue, Norani was still suspicious of the captain, even if the story continued to be consistent with Imogen. Sunsinger magic? That wasn't something Norani was familiar with. "What is Sunsinger magic?" Her voice was tinged with curiosity, not just at the revelation of a foreign magic, but because Norani felt an ease with Imogen. They were both Orkhan women, mages, and on this strange expedition. But Imogen was older, wiser, stronger, things that Norani often wished she could be.

"I will call, and if you need aid, call on me. I am here with Yeva, the elf with hair of fire." Interesting that Imogen had already accrued a debt with the Duck. But the mention of bringing her and this small northern woman together again perked up Norani's youthful exuberance, "Are you and Carina.." Norani wasn't sure how to ask this in the Common tongue, for such things didn't need to be asked verbally in Ecith, "Heartmates?" The curiosity there wasn't one desiring the latest hot gossip from the beach that they called home, no. It was a desire to see just how another Orkhan witch woman like herself was in dealing with romantic matters with a northern woman.

For some entirely unknown and mysterious reason.

This was quickly followed by a vomiting of questions by the young lass, "Where did you grow up? I've never met an Orkhan from abroad before. What did you think of the Commonwealth? Is it strange being an Orkhan in a foreign land? Do you know Zaichaer? Yeva is from Zaichaer and she said they don't like non-humans. Or witches. What are the cities in the north like? Are they all cruel and cold like Zaichaer?"

Imogen tried to stop herself from laughing as the girl exploded into questions. She succeeded, barely, but could not disguise a grin.

"Peace, peace." Imogen said, waving away Norani's cloud of queries, "There is time enough for as many questions as you like. Let's put some distance between us and that hellnest; I don't trust those little blighters to stay forever."

As Imogen began moving down the beach, she decided to answer the girl's inquiries with a narrative.

"My grandmother," Imogen began, "Was a warrior from Kythera. She met my grandfather in a village while touring the Commonwealth, and he followed her north across the sea before the invasion on some business. My mother was native to Karnor, and the reason my father decided to stay in Zaichaer to raise his family. They dedicated themselves to resistance of the government of the city, and so I grew up there amidst the safehouses and hidden sanctums."

The witch paused before continuing, not wanting to mislead the girl, or paint a picture with too broad a brush. "It is too cold in Zaichaer, and the people are very withdrawn and reserved. Some of them are cruel, and those who are not are cautious, and remain distant until they know you well. But underneath, they are a people of fantastic spirit and imagination. I spent many years in a great theater there and found much to love in the soul of the place."

"But the ones who ruled Zaichaer, they were always hateful. They thought the beauty which was in their people was the only beauty worth knowing, and they refused to even look at other races. But this made things easier for us- for my father and his friends, and me. People who do not respect you enough even to look at you make it easy to accomplish whatever you want without noticing. That is not true everywhere in the north, but it was true in Zaichaer."

"As for witches..." Imogen offered Norani an ironic grin. "They said they hated witches most of all, but many of those who ruled in Zaichaer control great magic themselves. It was only ever just fear of losing control. This is what I liked best about the Commonwealth. The senate and priests in Drathera have no control over the land and the people at all, they do not even think of it as a thing they should seek. Zaichaeri would say it has made the country weak, unable to gather its strength to strike back even after it was invaded, but I think the contagion of power, and the fear of losing power, are far worse for the lands which contract them."

"So! To resist the cowardly witches who rule Zaichaer, my family joined the Sunsingers and learned their magic, which is the silver fire you saw around my blades. It is derived from an old power, and it burns away illusions and corruptions, and all manner of other dangerous powers."

The witch deliberately avoided the questions about Carina, deftly weaving her story through every other instead. She knew what Carina was to her, she'd admitted as much to the priests in Ecith last year, but she was not sure she understood what she was to Carina. Perhaps there was more Zaichaeri in her than she wanted to admit to the girl.

"Now, it is only fair to have a story for a story, I think. You say you have come here with the elf Yeva, who is from Zaichaer, but you yourself are native of the Commonwealth. How came you both to travel together?"