In the world of Valterra, where ancient forces of light and darkness clash, the Primordials awaken. Marcus, a seasoned warrior, embarks on a perilous quest to unite a group of extraordinary beings known as the Primordials to face the Dark and its mi...
Avosa woke before sunrise with a start. The faceless filled her dreams again; smokey figures, always chasing her. Although she heard the morning doves coo, saw the orange glow of the waking sky, she sensed someone still hunting her from beyond. It sent a chill up her spine. She sat up uneasily in bed and surveyed the room.
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The house was quiet, her clothes and boots were at the end of her bed where she left them. Outside her window, signs of another storm slogging through the South the previous night scattered the landscape. Ewes drank from newly formed puddles, branches scattered happenstance in the fields. She knew she had to shake off the dread, get up, get dressed and start picking up the debris before a young lamb got hurt or worse, she ran into her mother.
After she dressed, she headed down to the kitchen and was surprised by her father. "Dad? You're up late," she said. Her father, named Caldwell after his own father, was usually tending to the horses or out making rounds on the dry stone hedge by now.
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"I was just about to come wake you, sleepyhead." He feigned a smile, kissed her cheek in greeting. "I believe we have a visitor heading this way." He scrunched his eyes together ever so slightly and frowned just enough for Avosa to notice. Maybe it was someone he didn't want to see.
"A visitor?"
"Aye, heading up the way. I spotted him during rounds. He should be here shortly." He took his hand and cupped Avosa around the back of the neck, and gave it a small squeeze.
"What is it, Dad?" She wondered what had gotten into him.
"Nothing, Ave, nothing. I just forgot you were growing into a young woman. It was seventeen this year, right?" He turned away, not expecting an answer as a single tear ran down his cheek.
Suddenly the day felt very strange. Again, Avosa felt exposed, wary, confused and curious. Light! She hadn't seen her father cry since her grandmother passed away when she was twelve. What in the name of the Phoenix was going on? "Do you know this man who comes?"
"I do," he almost whispered.
She stared at him, waited for some sort of explanation, but it never came. Instead, his eyes glazed over, lost in thought. She had seen the look before, usually when recounting the time he spent in the Great War.
She was about to ask her dad how he knew the man when her mother burst through the door, panicked, short of breath. She must have been out in the barn and saw the stranger coming. She ran straight into her husband's arms, tears flowing, leaving the door to their house wide open. She'd have given Avosa a mouth full if she had done that.
"It's too early, she is not ready! I am not ready," her mother sobbed and hid her face. She obviously recognized the man as well.
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