The Night Rider

Chapter 50 - Everchanged

"I see you're busy enjoying my collection, Stormkeeper?"

Anirii's light and airy tone broke through the dimly lit cavern, catching Nivara off guard. The large tome she had precariously tried to read by resting it against a small wobbly table collapsed under the sheer weight of the book.

The flimsy, wooden legs gave out as the small, flaming lamp toppled onto the ground and began to travel across sheets of slowly, shrivelling paper trail. The blind Tinker Mole simply watched with an empty gaze, the Mist Maiden panicking and clutching her injury.

"Ahh, shit."

Nivara tried to reach for the nearby stream of water funnelling into the dugout basin nearby but her Trait uselessly flopped back into the basin. Cursing her sprained wrist, she tried to stamp out the flames herself but it neatly coiled itself into a thin rope and puffed out of existence.

Nivara stared at the Fatekeeper for a few moments, folding her arms for good measure. Anirri stared back innocently, neither one apologising until a burly, oversized Sand Wraith burst into the room and whacked his head off the low ceiling.

"Don't call me that. Tempest. My name is Tempest." Nivara snapped, frustrated but mostly relieved the flames were gone.

Anirri smiled gently, her claws curling with her dwindling Forger ability before it too evaporated into her staff to ground it from spreading.

"My apologies, Nessra. But it's not the only name they will know you by."

Nivara watched the Fatekeeper's stance begin to sway, immediately exhausted but managing to grip her staff and lean against the hewn, ancestral walls before readjusting her balance.

"Fatekeeper, you know you aren't supposed to use your Craft so carelessly, what if-"

Anirri raised a hand at the Sand Wraith's arrival, slowly lowering herself into the nearby camp bed Nivara had used as her sleeping quarters. The Storm Traited took her cue to huddle up on the floor next to Anirri's extensive library and sit on one of the Labyrinths winding root systems.

"If we worry about what if we lose sight of what will come to be. Besides, Hackerby. I could hear you coming and I know you Sand Wraiths are far stronger than a lil' old Tinker Mole like myself."

The Sand Wraith blushed furiously at her compliment, his scales flashing red for just a moment. Nivara was still distracted by gathering a few stray pages to try and rescue her research. But she couldn't help but notice his fondness for the Tinker Mole chieftess, his scales a mottled mix of her brownish hue highlighted by the occasional black scales.

"But you are more than just a Tinker Mole, Anirri." Hack said quietly, his bashful expression only confirming Nivara's theory.

The Sand Wraith's concern for Anirri washed over like a summer breeze, the mind boggling idea that a Sand Wraith like him could show such sympathy and compassion was almost heartbreaking. Nivara almost felt bad for him.

This poor Sand Wraith was head over claws for the Fatekeeper of Caldor.

She hadn't come across many Sand Wraiths this side of Caldor but while moonlighting as Tempest she had heard enough stories. The territorial lizard people who tore through anyone that dared to close in on Mt Aaracosta. They rarely ventured outside of their home of Helmspire but when they did it was never good.

Seeing Hack here was about as rare as a Griffinette sighting but here he was, sidling up to a Tinker Mole like they were old friends instead of longstanding enemies. Saying Anirri was completely blind to Hack's affections was an understatement. Anirri was completely blind to everything.