FALORA
County of Crackjaw
It rained, but sunrays shone through the clouds of morning. Blankets of water passed over the forest beneath their rocky shelter and flickered and bloomed with orange light among the drops. Orilion continued to sleep with his back to the morning sun breaking the clouds apart. Falora held out her sketchbook and allowed him rest.
Whatever history was left behind in the fall of the Dragon Gods... whoever this is in front of me is different from the one in the tales. No matter how hard she tried to justify and twist the words, passages detailing his ferocity and cruelty. In the end, he was not a dragon, but a man suffering in his sleep.
Falora sighed and shuffled over to him. "Orilion?"
Sunlight tore apart the mist and splashed across his shirt. Falora went to move, but stopped at the glittered light behind the fabrics. Hesitation pricked her fingers, but she drew the hum upwards to investigate his spine. Rays from the clouds outside traced his skin.
Sunlight lashed around his back, centered around a point on his upper spine. Falora pressed the shirt all the way to his shoulders, shown the truth of the sun, contained by the storm's might. Golden glimmers snaked their way around the pressure points beneath his skin. It glowed with the intensity of a raging sun in the thousand deserts.
... something had almost killed a god after all. If he was mortal... he would be dead. Waves of heat shimmered off his skin and followed the snakes while they curled and twisted around his lithe frame. "Orilion?"
A scar of sunlight. Fingertips outstretched, she followed the trails of the sun. He tensed, though she never touched him. He didn't rouse from her examination, so she came close to the sun. Air boiled at her approach. Is this... the source of his problems? Falora ignored the bubbling warmth to come lean closer. It'd make sense, but... is this fire-based Elemental magic? But then... Falora moved so her shadow swallowed Orilion, where the scarring disappeared without the touch of the sun. One movement out of the way, the scarring bloomed with ferocity once more. She set her palm against his back, against the point of intensity while it crinkled against her skin, then gently pushed.
Quick as lightning, he snapped his eyes open and lurched to his feet. Electric shocks ran through her arm and into the rest of her body, and she shook the static out. He pressed himself against the wall, panting while the pupils twisted into the familiar dragon beads, glittering with alarmed cyan.
"I'm so sorry!" Falora exclaimed. "You have some... pretty bad scarring on your back."
Orilion winced and rested his hand against his chest. He groaned and shook his head out. Hurt, confusion, and the tiniest twinge of recognition formed the beaded pupils back into spheres. "What...?" He rubbed the back of his neck.
Falora relaxed then peeked out of the cave. "We should get moving," she said. "Can you move? I'm sorry if I hurt you. I couldn't tell what it was so I took a closer look..." Her words dripped off her tongue at his dark expression when he tucked his elbows against his knees. "What?"
"She hit me."
"Wait, she?" Falora leaped closer to him. "You remember something?"
"I wouldn't... call it remembering," he admitted. "I remember the fight that I lost." His shoulders relaxed. "I... she hit me with something that... burned my wings." His windy voice trailed off as he went ashen and curled closer to himself. "Straight to the bone. No, it was worse..." He brushed bangs of black hair off his brow. "She immolated them. Completely. Bones and all..."
"Who?"
Orilion rubbed his back again with a soft hiss. "Faceless, but I know her, but I don't understand how..."
"Maybe we should wait another hour for you to get your bearings?" Falora questioned. "You're still unwell, Asen'Orilion."
"I said you can just call me Orilion," he replied weakly. "It's a title that means nothing to me. You continue to insist on calling you Falora. You can call me Orilion." He shook his head at her when she opened her mouth to argue. "What is the use of titles here?"
"Respect?"
"Fear," Orilion corrected with a smile. "Is it truly worth the meaning in a title if those who speak it, speak in fearful reverence?"
Falora raised an eyebrow. "I... guess not?"
"Then Orilion will do," he said and sat cross-legged.
Falora checked outside while the rain dripped off the stones. Trails of smoke lifted out of the trees. "We're heading over there," she said. "I'm hoping they'll have Celestial Templars searching for high concentrations of dragon power back at Crackjaw, leaving us free to make our escape... but first." Falora twisted to him. "If you're starting to remember some things, then I have to ask, if you want to look for Lady Lesinia... do you remember what she looks like?"
His brow furrowed as he got onto his wobbly knees. "I... I think so, but whether she's changed across these ages is another," he mumbled. "We are twins though... so maybe I do remember." He tipped his head at her. "I am going to try."
"Try... what?" Falora questioned when he wandered out into the last droplets of rain, which shone against his cheeks and slipped down his jaw as he turned to her, where the cyan twirled into the eye of a hurricane. "What are you planning?"
"I don't have a lot of power left in me," he observed when he studied his arms. "But, maybe I still have something left. I want to see how much of my memory was burned away." He breathed deep with the wind, and stretched his arms out while sparkled pockets of bubbly mist bounced around his feet. It raised higher in a tornadic circumference, slowed down with the mirage. Falora gaped and kept herself out of the visible force of power as Orilion opened his eyes into a hurricane, but a different person took shape. He knelt into the inflow, but stood back up with the wispy clouds as his black hair tangled into gorgeous waves of the ocean, braided with golden hoops which criss-crossed in her hair.
It dissipated in a single breeze, and Orilion brought his hands to the back of his neck, fluffing the pitch black hair with a small shake of his head to twist the braid, which clinkled with the ornaments.
"I'm surprised I was strong enough to do this, but I suppose it would never take that much strength to become my twin," his windswept voice disappeared to something more imposing, knowledgeable, curious and ancient. Orilion looked straight at her with the same cyan blue eyes. "This is the approximate appearance of when I last saw Lesinia. It appears there are some parts of me that'll never disappear."
Falora blinked. "You can do that?"
"Only me and her," Orilion said, but he ruffled the top of his head with a grimace, and the family resemblance was even more comically uncanny. "I had hoped I'd be able to reconnect through this but... I guess not." He folded his arms with a twist of his lips.
"She's pretty."
Orilion returned her blink. "If we ever meet her, you can tell her that." Inflow bands swirled around his feet, and the solid mirage disapepared and returned the god she shoved in her closet to her. "She always found great joy in 'acting' my part. I remember that too, she would also always use me as a mirror."
"Hard to forget siblings," Falora said with a scoff. "I get it."
Orilion smiled at her.
Falora clapped her hands together. "We should get moving, now that I know essentially what Lady Lesinia looks like, I know what to look out for," she said with a wave of her arm, then led the way down the cliff. Sheets of drizzle touched her face, but she continued on to Tulcai.
Orilion's gaze remained set on the sky, where an unsettled expression settled on his brow while she led him to a truth long since rotted. Her heart tore at the thought of bearing witness to the crater of Arth'lun, left to decay and stagnant for a millenia.
"You can tell me if that wound bothers you," Falora said. "I'm not much of a Herbalist, but I know some simple pain remedies."
"It's not a wound, but thank you."
Why am I trying to argue with a god again? "Well, if it starts bleeding sunlight don't come crying to me."
Her foot slipped through a mud patch between two stray cobblestones. Falora waved her hands to catch something, but someone's firm grip caught her forearm. Electricity wound around her joints, and she shuffled out of Orilion's grasp, who snapped his hand to his hip. His gaze dropped to the ground in shame.
"I'm sorry," they said in unison.
Falora sucked in her lips. "Okay..."
Two lamp posts marked the start of Tulcai, where houses released white smoke from their chimneys. Falora took a step forward, but slammed to a stop at the Celestial Templars knocking down doors. Cloudsweepers hovered above the streets, but she sighed at the lack of large shadows of airships. Falora stopped Orilion from heading further into the town, his eyes wide. "We don't need to make this more complicated than it needs to be."
"What do you mean?" Orilion asked.
Falora rolled up her sleeves and motioned at the beaten path. "We're going to walk to the tracks, then we're going to stop and wait." Falora led him around the outside of Tulcai to avoid the Templars and avoided any suspicious muddy patches. "Stick close to me."
Around the small knoll to assess the situation within Tulcai, she smiled at the station, where the train snaked along the tracks, puffing out in readiness to leave while a conductor whistled. Guards at the entrance checked everyone who boarded with Elemental Dials. Falora bit her lip and nodded. "I thought so." Over the tracks, she stood a safe distance out of the train's path, following it farther out of the city's reach before darting into the bushes. She counted several passenger cars, but some storage containers.
Her heart pounded with excitement. So close to her truth.
"So..." Orilion leaned closer to her with a questioning twist to his lips. "May I ask what your plan is for this... thing?" He motioned at the train.
"It's called a train," she replied. "And we're going to hitch a ride on one."
Orilion stared at the train in apparent uncertainty. "Is that really a good idea?"
Falora studied him. "I forgot to tell you what a train was, didn't I?"
"Yes."
Falora pressed her fingers into her temples, then led him farther down the tracks, back against the bushes. "It takes a while for the aethergines to pick up," she explained when another whistle sounded through the air. "About thirty seconds before it speeds up and we won't be able to get on without risk of injury."
Orilion studied the train in scrutiny. "And you're certain this goes to... Notolsald?"
"I'm certain." Falora puffed out a breath. "Look, you're just going to have to trust me on this. I took this train to see my brother once. I know its path. Tulcai is the first stop, then the second is Notolsald, and then it continues on..." His brow furrowed at her. "What?"
One more whistle screamed through the air and chugged. His expression never broke. Train wheels squeaked against the tracks. Mist of aether exploded out of its sides and created a field of mist. He looked away from her without another word.
She understood. "You don't trust me."
"You do not trust me," he pointed out with the wind dying in his voice. "It's not like you have to try and hide it."
The train moved through the mist, fighting for its speed.
"Of course," Falora hissed. "All my life, I've been taught you are the world's greatest evil!" Her heart dropped when the passenger cars slipped past. "I've been taught you're the reason my parents are gone — lost at sea in a storm, where your cruelty continues on in the world in horrific ways—"
"I'm sorry for your loss," he said simply.
Mists of time swirled at their feet.
"What?"
Orilion got up. "I'm sorry for the loss you've endured, and... that is all I can give you. No excuse. No divine providence, just my apologies... and that does not return the piece of your heart." He narrowed his eyes at the train. "You do not have to help me further."
"I already said—"
"Curiosity only goes so far," Orilion said and stepped forward. "So, I have only a question for you, Falora. What do you believe?"
We shall pray for your parent's souls, to find peace from the remnants of Asen'Orilion's evil. We shall pray for your good health. Pray for the rains to cease. Pray for the storm to pass over.
"With one snap of your fingers I could cease to exist," she whispered. "You are a god. You don't need my trust."
He eyed her, then tilted his head forward, a silent indication to lead. Falora hesitated while the train bloomed, and she broke into a run for the storage containers, then grabbed onto the rails and tugged open the door in motion as Orilion raced behind her. Falora slipped inside, then held her hand out to assist him when the aethergines puffed out more mist.
He took it without hesitation, and she hauled him into the container when the train took on a burst of speed. Falora crawled to the edge while Orilion sat in the corner and hugged his shoulders. Lands moved outside, trees into endless fields of grass.
Falora put her hands on her hips. "You trust me enough to pull you onto a train, evidently."
He tightened further into the corner with a huff. "I do not want to smite your existence with lightning, Falora."
Falora approached him. "And I don't want to watch the Celestial Templars to wipe history," she pointed out. "It doesn't matter what I believe, does it? I'm just a mortal, and since when have the gods cared what mortals think?" Falora went to the other side of the car. "Forget about it. Once we reach Arth'lun, you'll know what I mean."
"I do care about what you think," he mumbled into his arms. "I've always cared about what mortals think." He knocked his fist off the wall of the train car. "After all... it wasn't us who formed this contraption. It was not something the gods gifted to you. It was something you made, all on your own... and that is worth caring about."
Falora turned to him at his soft words, where her heart swelled in confusion, but he tucked his face into his arms and closed his eyes.
Aether clouds billowed and covered their car.
"You don't trust me, but you grabbed my hand," Falora whispered as she closed the container, but left it open a tad when Orilion shook.
"I suppose I did," he admitted. "Just as much as you reached out to help me." He lifted his head and gave her a lopsided smile. "Where does that leave us?"
"A mortal and a god illegally stowing away on a train," she mused.
Silence.
Orilion giggled, the sound ruffled against her ears, and she gawked at him in disbelief as he rubbed his face, his smile turning genuine. He sucked in a breath, and he bowed to her.
"Falora Tyvlon, if I ever feel the urges I know you worry about, I will forewarn you... and walk straight to the Templars."
Falora jolted. "What?"
"Because... I do not want to be evil," he murmured. "You are right to be wary, I understand. So, if that happens, I will surrender myself to the Celestial Templars and face judgment for my failure to those who live a fleeting life — and right whatever wrongs I made in the past."