Amazing cover image made by Shreya_VA <3
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The sun burns its golden hue over the dawn of the day, illuminating Arkala in the morning light. The shadows cast by the stone walls of the arena retreat to the corners and hide from the morning's face. The cold of the morning chills the air, and while Lavern shivers, Anahella lays still as the cold has already ensnared her body.
He stares at her face as he had done all night. Not really sure what it is that's looming so heavily over him, but it makes getting up to leave feel almost impossible. Maybe it's not anything here in this moment, but rather stemming off from the thought of going back and knowing what's to come. This was just another page turned for this idiotic quest to save Aramora.
He knows what's at stake, but with everything that's happened since they started, it makes it kind of hard to understand that it has all been 'necessary', at least in Athemar's mind.
Lavern may not have kept any love for his sister, but the whole situation revolving around her death irks him. Maybe it's his father's complacency in all of it. How he just stepped back and watched it happen.
All for a fucking vote.
In the end, they lost. Lyf didn't get the Schism Fragment, and there's no way Castien is going to hand it over now that he has been crowned as King of Arkala. He couldn't care less about the world ending so long as he can watch it from atop his throne.
"Nesosa told me about what happened," he hears her voice from behind him, but doesn't bother looking back. He merely deepens his scowl and keeps his focus on the body of his sister.
Liyanore takes a deep breath as her eyes briefly glance at Ana, but they ultimately land on her son. She steps closer. "...I'm happy you're okay, Lav—"
"Why don't you just shut up?" Lavern snaps. Liyanore closes her mouth and her body tenses. She knew he wouldn't respond to her in a positive way, but she doesn't care. Instead, she listens.
Lavern shakes his head and scoffs, still not caring enough to turn around. "I wasn't worthy of being a Dev'Alrich and we all knew it. Father shunned me. Ana belittled me. And you simply couldn't be bothered to care. You were always too busy drowning in your cups or inviting strangers into your bed to ever take the time to notice when I left. And now that I'm back, you think you can just walk back into my life? You didn't give a shit when I was gone so don't bother pretending to care now," he stares at Ana's face as he speaks. As fucked up as it sounds, this is the first time he's able to speak in front of his sister without her putting him down.
He waits about a minute, but receives no response. But still, he remains turned away. Once his irritation grows from her silence, he speaks again. "Why are you even here? Shouldn't you be off sleeping with every guest at Father's coronation?"
Liyanore offers a meek chuckle. "The coronation isn't until tonight," she says which earns her an eye roll from her son.
Lavern doesn't bother responding. At this point, he's just waiting for her to leave. He doesn't know what he's going to do when she does. Maybe go back to his friends. It's more likely he'll go spend the rest of the day at the 'Crimson Cutlass', Arkala's pub in the lower district. Anything to get away from the world if only for a moment.
"Her name is Pyrea Feawynn," her sudden voice catches him off-guard.
This manages to grab his attention enough to make him look back at her over his shoulder. He tries to read her face to understand what she's talking about, but somehow Liyanore is a tricky one to decipher.
"Who?" he asks.
Liyanore keep her eyes locked into his piercing golden gaze. Something about her demeanor seems different, though it's kinda hard to blame her after having watched both her children die only to have the least favorite one be resurrected.
"Your mother. Her name is Pyrea Feawynn," she says. Her words instantly grasp his full attention and he tries to understand why she would bring this up now of all times. Who his real mother is has been a question on his mind for a long damn time. Really ever since he found out he was a bastard child. But after enough time, he gave up on trying to find her.
But maybe there was a subconscious part of him that never gave up the search. He never knew her name, but he knew she was from Balmoral. That may have been what inspired him to leave and join the Cle'va Guild in the first place. But it's been years with no sign of her, so he supposes he had started to give up.
But now he knows her name. Pyrea.
"Why are you telling me this?" he asks, not realizing how he has dropped his spiteful tone and now is purely interested in whatever Liyanore has to say.
She smiles woefully and approaches him. She sits at his side and locks her eyes on the body of Ana as she brings her hand over to rest on her daughter's shoulder. With a deep breath, she closes her eyes and orange light radiates from her palm. It sparks into a flame that envelops Ana's body, letting her ashes form in her place.
As she removes her hand, Lavern notices the dampened streaks beneath her eyes that reflect the glow of the flickering flames in front of them.
"You deserve to have a family, Lavern. It can't be your father and I, no matter how badly I wish we were able to be a normal family... I hardly knew her, but I know Pyrea wanted to be there for you as a mother should."
"So why wasn't she?" Lavern snaps.
Liyanore sighs and stares into the flames, watching the few ashes that begin to float up through the air and ride the tides of smoke. "...You know your father's persistence in keeping the 'perfect Dev'Alrich image'. She couldn't be there because he wouldn't let her. After you were born, she was tossed aside and branded as a criminal to Arkala. But I know that she is still out there looking for you, Lavern..." She looks over at him and smiles as she wipes away one of her tears.
Lavern says nothing nor does he look at her in return. He just stares at the flames.
Pyrea Feawynn.
"You're leaving Arkala soon, right?" Liyanore asks in a small voice.
Lavern offers a simple nod. "Yes."
Liyanore sheds another tear and smiles as she reaches over and cups his cheek, gently rubbing her thumb over the scar beneath his right eye. "Good."
Lavern's mind doesn't have time to process the gentleness of her actions before she lowers her hand from his face and reaches into her robe. When she retracts her hand, he's snapped back into the moment as he sees her holding a Schism Fragment.
He searches her eyes for answers but finds none as she grabs his hand and places the crystal in his palm, closing his fist around the glassy black and purple stone. "Leave before he notices it's missing from the treasury. And no matter what happens... Please," she looks into his eyes and closes her hands over his.
"Make sure this was worth it."
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It's mid-day when Nisha finally starts to feel alive again. Her bones ache and her muscles feel like they're on fire with how strained she is. She would stay laying in bed all day if the light from the windows wasn't shining directly on her face which only worsens her headache.
Begrudgingly, she opens her eyes and just lays in bed as she waits for the feeling to return to her... everything. This pain is just one of many things she regrets from her time here in Arkala. Her list is really starting to accumulate dread points with each day in this damn city. Leave it to the nobles to make her feel like shit.
"Nisha! You're awake!" Naomi's sudden shout makes Nisha spring to life and the fur of her tail stand on end. She sits up straight and takes deep breaths, trying to calm herself down as well as bring her headache to a somewhat bearable level.
Naomi doesn't stop before she throws her arms around Nisha and hugs her tight. The sudden action makes Nisha gasp and instinctively push Naomi back while she tries to pull herself together.
But she didn't mean to worry her. Naomi now looks at her with a forlorn gaze, adding a hint of guilt on top of the shit pile of emotions that currently leave her heart in a clusterfuck that she really doesn't want to take the time to sort through.
"Are you... okay?" Naomi asks anxiously. Nisha can see the joy in Naomi's eyes but she keeps it down as she grows wary of the current state of the Tus'Felnis' mind.
Nisha sighs and nods her head slowly, minding the pulsing pain of her headache. "Yeah... I'm fine. I've just never actually resurrected a person before... I didn't realize it would feel like getting slapped in the face with a couple hundred-pound brick packed with soul-sucking leeches... But I've felt worse," she meekly chuckles and looks around.
Before Naomi has a chance to speak again, Nisha snaps her attention back to her and her expression suddenly turns serious. "Where is Lavern?" she asks.
Naomi sighs and sits beside her on the bed. "He wanted to stay with his sister. He was gone all of last night and this morning, but we're waiting for him to be ready to come back before going after him," she explains.
Nisha stifles a gasp and quickly gets up. "He's been alone since yesterday?"
Naomi shrugs. "He was just killed by his sister, resurrected, and saw that his sister had been killed while he was dead. I think he deserves some time to himself. Why? Is something wrong?" she asks, curious as the Tus'Felnis swiftly grabs her backpack and slings it over her shoulder.
"No... Everything's fine," Nisha says. "But... We need to be heading out soon. I'll go find Lavern and let him know that we're going to be leaving so he can come back to get ready." She grabs her daggers and secures them in their sheathes on her belt.
Naomi watches her and gets up as well. "Do we really need to go so soon? I thought—"
"Yes. We do," Nisha states and leaves the room before Naomi is allowed to say any more.
The Tus'Felnis makes her way through the streets of Arkala, keeping an eye on every shadow and alleyway. After asking around town, she had been pointed in the direction of her personal favorite pub in Arkala, the Crimson Cutlass.
Figures Lavern would head there with everything that happened. Naomi was right about how Lavern deserves some time to himself, but Nisha needs to take the route of caution over sympathy. Besides, Lavern is a Cle. Pity isn't really something he's fond of receiving.
She approaches the pub and reaches for the doorknob, when a basket from the side of the building is knocked over and falls at her feet. She jumps and instantly pulls her daggers to her grasp, but she stops once she sees it was just a stray orange alley cat that must have been startled by her presence just as she had been by it.
She takes a deep breath and returns her blades to their sheathes before entering the pub. She always feels welcomed by the smell of rum in the air and the sight of bushy beards and eyepatches that even to her, a pirate, seems comedically cliché.
She doesn't bother asking the barkeep for assistance as she knows the old codger won't help her unless she buys something, and as much as she would kill to have a flagon of Recharn Rum, she needs to stay sober for the time being. Do job first, get drunk second. A Moraan family motto that's been passed down for generations.
She surveys the room filled with people all dressed in rugged garbs and smelling of rum and brine. Lucky for her, not many Adaliaens come here as the pirate life isn't really their show. This place is filled with people from all across the six lands who decided to stop along their voyage for some fine Arkala liquor. So it isn't long until she catches a glimpse of white hair in a back corner.
She approaches, seeing that Lavern is currently on his second mug. Leave it to ol' bushy beard to not think twice about serving minors. Well, she's certainly not one to complain.
Seeing that he is for the most part okay is enough to calm her nerves a fair bit, but she can't shake the uneasy feeling that lurks in her stomach. She's made enough mistakes since coming to this city to last her a lifetime. She'd be better off without.
"Hey, pointy. Watch you don't overdo it. I'm not sure if you know this, but as magical as Conarita Grog is, it's certainly no draught of healing from the holy springs of Maanitel," she snickers as she leans against the open chair across from him.
It's only when he looks up at her that she sees the dark circles under his eyes and the raw exhaustion written all over his face. Seems the alcohol's not the only thing wearing him down.
He merely disregards her comment and takes another swig from his flagon.
Nisha sighs and drops into the seat in front of him. "How you holdin' up? Dumb question, I know. But someone's gotta ask," she says and leans forward on her arms to study him closer. She's not a Cle, but she also knows a thing or two about reading people. However, she doesn't need to be a genius to figure out that he looks like total shit.
Lavern scoffs and shakes his head, staring down into his cup. "Why are you asking? We're not friends so don't bother pretending we are. All you and the other redcloaks care about is this stupid fucking quest for Athemar. You don't give two shits what it takes to get what you want," he slurs and takes another drink.
Nisha's tail scrunches up and she glares at him. "Watch it, pal. I'm not one of those 'redcloaks', I'm just an agent. A magical mercenary, if you will. And you've got it wrong. Yeah, this quest is a big deal, but I don't mind making a few friends and numis along the way. The world's not always so black and white, but I'm sure that's the last thing a Cle wants to hear."
Lavern huffs and shakes his head. He goes to take another drink, but Nisha leans across the table and grabs his wrist before he can. He looks up at her with annoyance in his glare, but she remains calm even with her anxiety.
"Shit's been hard for you. I get it. I know Arkala hasn't exactly given you a big 'welcome home' embrace filled with margaritas and fresh pastries, but things could be worse. Things could always be worse. My advice? Don't bother drowning your sorrows over shit that can't be changed. You're alive. Your friends are alive. That alone is more than some people can say they have. Take the time you need to grieve and move past all the shit that's got you down so you can focus on enjoying what you have left," Nisha says and smiles as she lets go of his wrist.
She leans back in her chair and taps her fingers on the wooden surface of the table. "Live today as if you'll die tomorrow," she says.
Lavern's frown grows and he stares down at his drink. "Yeah? What if I died yesterday? Where does that put me today? You can spout off all the sentimental bullshit you want, but when you're the one in a position of losing a piece of yourself all for some 'greater fucking good', then we'll see if you change your tune. You don't know what it's like."
"Actually, I do. I just don't let it get to me," Nisha says simply.
Lavern glares at her. "Is that so? Then tell me, what have you lost that compares to this?"
Nisha's tail flicks and she keeps her focus on Lavern, even as she raises her hand and motions the barkeep over. He approaches but Nisha doesn't break her gaze from the Adaliaen Cle. "Recharn Rum," she says and pulls out a handful of numis. "Keep the change, bushy beard."
The barkeep chuckles and pats her on the back. "Comin' right up, Nish."
Nisha pays him no mind as he returns to the counter to start filling her a flagon. She keeps her attention sharply on Lavern. "Personally, I'm not a fan of comparing my pain to other's. But if you really wanna know, then fine. Two years ago, I was in a shipwreck that killed my family. I washed up on the shores of Aramora and when it was discovered that I had magic, I was forced to join the Dev'al Ordon to help Athemar with his quest. I had no say in any of it. If I had my way, I would have been on the first ship out of here as soon as this stuff was proposed. But it's not up to me," she says, slowly tapping her finger on the table in rhythm to her flicking tail.
Lavern examines her face. He tries to read her, but she keeps a stern composure. It's mind-blowing to him that she's not a Cle, because she could be lying right now and he would have no way of knowing. Either that or he has somehow managed to find the single most honest Tus'Felnis across all the six lands.
"What's stopping you from leaving?" he asks and keeps his curious gaze on her features to see if she reveals any potential tells that most people have when he talks to them, even if they are for the most part honest.
He finds none.
"Obligation, I suppose. I don't think I can just walk away knowing that Aramora is on the path to being destroyed," Nisha shrugs and reaches out her hand as Bushy Beard comes back and hands off her flagon of rum. She takes a drink and nods to the barkeep, who nods back before returning to the counter.
"But that's only a problem for Aramora," Lavern says, "You could run off to Letroseli and not have to worry about anything that goes on here. So why don't you?"
Nisha sets the flagon down and keeps tapping her finger. "Perhaps a little thing I have called morality. I may have only spent two years in Aramora, but I've seen enough of the land and the people to know that while this is certainly not the most welcoming continent, it doesn't deserve what Athemar's vision entails. We all need to do our part, and I'm doing mine," she says.
He glares at her, trying to follow the implications behind what she's saying. There's no way she's lying about this. He can see how sincere her eyes looked as she said all of that, but he just can't understand why.
"And what if your part isn't enough? What if his vision does come true and you die because you decided to uphold your 'morality' to save a continent that never had a chance?" he questions and goes to take another drink, completely oblivious to the fact that his flagon is apparently empty.
Nisha shrugs again, not a care in the world. No, that's not it. She cares more than he can comprehend for someone who carries herself so confidently.
"Then at least I tried. I've got nothing left to lose, so if I die trying to do something good for the world, then at least it will have been worth it," she says with a smile and takes another drink before pushing the flagon over to Lavern.
His expression doesn't change from his irritation. He just grabs the mug, takes a drink, and stands up. He reaches into his leather pouch without breaking her gaze while she watches him carefully.
He sets the Schism Fragment on the table and pushes it towards her.
She eyes the stone and her finger stops tapping. She doesn't question how he got it as she looks back up and remakes eye contact with his indignant glare.
"Well, I hope it was worth it," he takes another drink before storming out of the pub.
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Just past noon, the group gathers at the docks of Arkala. Naomi can't express her joy at seeing that Lavern is okay, but even prior to Nisha's warning she can tell he's not quite himself right now. She still doesn't blame him, but she hopes he bounces back soon. Maybe once she gets a moment, she'll try talking to him and see what's up.
But that's for later. Right now, though, they have their goodbyes.
"Think you'll be fine to manage the lower district on your own?" Malachi asks Lyf.
They wave him off, despite having lost the vote of Kilead and thus the title of leader of Arkala, they remain unshaken. "I'm not alone. I've got these idiots here to back me up," they chuckle and nudge Ethel and M'Rhys.
Ethel gasps. "Wait... we're idiots?" she asks with a look of fear and uncertainty in her eyes. M'Rhys sighs and pats her shoulder.
"No, Ethel. Just you," he says.
Ethel exhales as if a weight has been lifted and she brushes her hand over her forehead. "Okay, good... I still have that going for me," she says with relief.
Naomi watches the half-elf with pure confusion. "I will never understand how your mind works," she says with a smile. Lyf nods.
"None of us do," they say. "Anyway, don't worry about us. We've managed to get by without a throne to back us up, so we can keep doing our best to help the Su of the city. That is if 'his majesty' doesn't kick us out within the next few weeks. But I won't go down without a fight," they show a confident smirk.
Lyf looks past Malachi and Naomi to see Lavern sitting on a crate beside the faerie port sharpening his dagger. "And Lavern," they call to him. Lavern slightly lifts his head in their direction. Lyf walks over to him and with a smile, they take off their green scarf and drape it over his shoulders.
"Green suits you better than white and gold," they say and meaningfully bump his shoulder. Lavern says nothing and looks down at the scarf. Green, the color of independence for the Adaliaens.
He remains silent even as Lyf pulls him into a hug and pats his back. "It's good to see you're okay... And words can't express how sorry I am for everything that happened. I can only wish you the best for the road ahead," they say and step back.
Lavern nods slowly and keeps sharpening his knife. "Yeah... me too," he mumbles.
Lyf sighs and takes another step back as Nesosa approaches Lavern and pats his shoulder with strange gentleness that is joined by her typical strength. He can tell the gesture wasn't meant to be just comforting, but a way of reminding him of how strong she is. Not to show off, but to silently state her surprising protectiveness.
He remains quiet.
M'Rhys eyes the faerie. "It seems the faerie will be leaving for New Cresthill soon. You all should be sure to get on before you are left behind. M'Rhys guesses the last thing you all want is to be stuck here for another day, yes?" the Tus'Felnis says with a grin.
Naomi nods. "Damn right. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I miss walking. No fighting or drama. Just walking and that's it," she says.
"Speak fur yerself," Nesosa huffs. Now that she has her centaur form back, it's inevitable that she is going to once again be subjected to literally carrying the team.
Lyf laughs and crosses their arms as they face the group. "So, where are you guys heading next?"
Malachi grumbles and pinches the bridge of his nose, dreading the answer. "Unfortunately, Kilead," he says. Naomi scoffs playfully and pats him on the back.
"Come on, compared to Balmoral and Arkala, Kilead can't be that much worse," she reasons.
Malachi glares at her. "In Kilead there is literally a law that states that murder is legal so long as the authorities think the death is funny," he deadpans.
Naomi scratches the back of her head. "At least that'll make it fun?"
Malachi merely old man grunts in response and looks away to pull out his notebook and start writing something on a blank page.
Nisha steps up beside Naomi and places her hand on her shoulder. "I guess we should head out now. It'll be interesting to see what the hell happens on the way to Kilead. It's certainly not a short walk from here. We'll probably have to pass through the ruins of Eelry," she says.
Malachi briefly lifts his head and glances over at Naomi, but he returns his nose to his book before she can catch his glimpse.
Nisha stretches her arms above her head with a yawn. "But, that's a future problem. Right now though, we've gotta get going. I think if we take another minute longer, the captain is going to give our spots to the gulls," she chuckles and glances up at the flock of seagulls circling over the docks.
Naomi nods in agreement. "Yeah... Alright then. I guess we're off," she says and smiles at Lyf, Ethel, and M'Rhys. "Wish us luck."
The sail back to the mainland was uneventful aside from Nesosa getting shit on by a seagull and then turning around and killing said seagull, but now they've arrived in New Cresthill. Again. Naomi recalls when she first saw this town how she thought it was the coolest thing ever, but having seen stuff that would make a normal person's head explode, this place seems kinda boring in comparison.
They get off the faerie and walk down the dirt road. Naomi pulls out the map and stares at it, trying to figure out where to go next. She points north, and Nisha grabs her wrist and turns her in the right direction, which is west.
"Right! Let's stock up on supplies then hit the road!" Naomi beams, excited to finally be away from all the pomp and nobility of Arkala.
Nesosa nods with an uneasy frown. "Kilead is far from 'ere. Nae rides 'til yer feet are literally fallin' off, got it?" she asks. Naomi opens her mouth, but is given no time to respond. "Good," Nesosa states and roughly pats her on the head.
The group manages to get a few feet into the market when a man wearing a plain tunic and hat with a messenger bag slung over his shoulder runs up and stops them.
"Wait! Are you Grand Master Athemar's Emissaries?" he asks breathlessly. The poor guy looks like he ran all the way here. Hopefully the pay is good.
"We are. Why?" Nisha responds and studies the man. No threat here, just a poor underpaid courier.
The man reaches into his bag and pulls out an envelope with a wax seal pressed with the symbol of Ecrin. He hands it to Nisha and straightens his posture. "The Grand Master wanted me to give you this," he says.
Nisha smiles and reaches into her coin purse, handing him a couple of numis. "Thanks for the leg work, kid," she winks and turns to face her friends. The man nods stiffly before scurrying off.
Nisha breaks the wax seal and slides the folded parchment out of the envelop. Meanwhile, Naomi is fascinated by seeing an actual wax-sealed letter. She thought those only existed in video games.
The Tus'Felnis unfolds the paper and reads it aloud for the group.
"Emissaries, I apologize for the sudden message as I'm certain you all have been hard at work towards obtaining the 'required items' for our mission. I would not be calling upon you if the circumstances were not dire, but alas, they are. I cannot go into much detail in this letter, but I need you all to return to the Divine Temple at once. There is news. Report to me as soon as possible. Signed, Athemar Du'Keldan; Grand Master to the Dev'al Ordon and the holy continent of Aramora."