Andlátkyn; Vandr Sanses unin Alagaësia

Weapons and Crystals

The skeletons and Temmie had watched as Eragon flew off with Saphira, some of them waving after the pair. Then Horror made an alarming strangled noise.
"Horror?!" A few gasped, only to see what the cripple had caught sight of.

It was no other person than Sinead the fire elemental, a bright spark of candle orange amid the dark night of the vast mountain of Farthen Dûr. Error lifted a non-existent eyebrow. "Well, if it isn't the weird lady."

Dust was busy elbowing Horror. "Don't scare us like that, you gurgling maniac." He grumbled. The broken skeleton just growled softly, holding both his old and new axes in each hand. "She said she'd appear when it was time." He rasped.
Red faced him. "The hell you mean by that?" He demanded.
Horror only grunted and shouldered his way through their group, strutting over to the woman in the distance.

Everyone stared after him until he glanced over his shoulder, only a too-wide socket and bloodred eyelight showing. "Comin'?" The Sans asked. Geno scoffed. "You can be less creepy about it, you're acting like we're walking to our doom." He teleported beside him.

Nightmare glanced at Error, who shrugged expressively. With his own shrug, the pair of gods started after them, urging the rest of the Wyrdaí Islingrya to follow. After ten seconds, they all just teleported over.

The place was unsettling. An impossible breeze somehow blew despite the stagnant air of Farthen Dûr. They were in the remnants of a funeral pyre, ash floating around their feet, kicked up with every step. Sinead was picking through the powder, picking up lost Urgal weapons and stained metal that had once belonged to something.
"Hello!" She called out cheerily, back facing them as she dug through the rubble.
Rising from the floor was something eerily similar to monster dust.

Wrenching out a ruined Urgal sword, Sinead faced them, smiling tightly as she placed the blade in a wide basket she was carrying. "Why the long faces? Is the place too morbid?"
With a nervous sound, GB nodded. Sinead sighed, suddenly disappointed. "I'm sorry it bothers you so." She told him, now somber.

Glancing around the ashen place, she sighed. "I just thought it would be nice to honor them like this. And it's symbolic, in a way." Dipping her fingers into the dark powder, she let it slip through, some particles catching air and drifting away.
"You see, even those made of flesh, like humans, dwarves, elves, Urgals- they become dust in the end as well. Sometimes a little heat can speed it up."

Nightmare squinted as some ash landed on his sleeves and shirt. "You want us here for some reason."
It wasn't a question.
Sinead nodded as though it were.
"Yes. I do. I'm here for many reasons. And you are here because I want you to be. Number one, I want to remind you all that our kinds are not all that different. I think I've accomplished that goal. So that brings me to number two."
She regarded them all. "You are all very much aware that Alagaësia plays by different rules. Not all of you can just rely on your magic, not as much as you used to. I think Nightmare understands this best, don't you Alalëa?"

He stiffened at the name, but said nothing. The others all rolled it around, the gears turning in their minds as they figured out what it was. Sinead strode closer, eliminating the space between her and the monsters. She set the basket of scrap metal and broken weapons on the ashen earth.

"Some of you need weapons, like Horror and his axe. Böetq Blädr." She waved at the waraxe as the skeleton pointed it at her in warning.
"I don't need a damn weapon!" Dust snorted. "I said some of you, not all." She spoke sternly. Then she crossed her arms, staring at the Wyrdaí Islingrya evenly.
"What most of you need is an aid. Something conductive of both grammaryé and vanyalí. Luckily, I'm well aware of how to produce such a thing. Horror already has something of this; it's the axe."