FALORA
It didn't take long for a sky island to appear from the billowing clouds of watery mist. Many of her books failed to do the islands justice. Father's paintings splattered a pale comparison. Buildings built out of the very stone of the island blended into the picturesque truth. Tiny crags hung off the island to protect the inhabitants from a harsh fall. Misty creeks slipped off their points to feed into the other clouds.
Falora stood beside Orilion while they waited for Alexavier to conclude his business with the dispatched aether creature. Soft, sweet smells filled her nose with the sizzle of someone's cooking. Zyle stood closeby, writing in a thick tome while Alex spoke with the butcher. Her attention drifted along the area — to memorise the angles of the buildings, the way the Azarian's lived. Children giggled and used their horns to catch small hoops thrown by their friends. Her heart swelled with a strange sense of serenity, so far away from the ground and in the clouds themselves. In a garden, a young Azarian woman plucked fruit from a short, stout tree's branches, ruffling the blue leaves for added sprinkles. Falora turned to Zyle. "Is food ever a concern up here? I can't imagine it's easy to take down aetherbeasts."
"It isn't," Zyle said and tucked the book under his arm. "Small towns like this don't have the same tactical advantages of Azarian cities. It's a quiet life, but we can go longer than Lander's without food." He smiled at her with a nod at the harvested tree. "We supplement that fact with skyfruits and vegetables. Our agriculture is specialised for these climes to last a long time and fill longer too."
"Ah, to be descended from the dragons who were notorious meat-lovers if stories are to be believed," Alexavier said when he returned to them with a wave. "He's preparing the cargo for moving and then we'll get back on our journey." He nudged her. "So, first sky island in your life, what do you think?"
Falora hummed in wonder and cursed herself for leaving her sketchbook on the airship. In her peripheral vision, Orilion observed the area with broad movements, resting on the Azarian children when one tried to spin a few of the hoops with a weak air elemental. The bundle dropped to their feet, and they pouted while their friends giggled. Falora smiled at the show of innocence and found her answer within it. "It's... pleasant. Down on the lower lands everything just seems... smaller now that I'm up here." Arms out, she caught the gentle breeze and found her breath among it. "Certainly different from living in a harbour town."
"I'm sure." Alexavier beamed, but his gaze flicked off to her side. "Your friend sure has gotten used to it fast though — like he might've been born among us in another life. You were so concerned about the loss of his memories... ever thought that there are other ways we retain memories?" Falora quirked in confusion when he pointed, and she followed his direction.
Orilion knelt with the children who remained awestruck when he drew the air elemental with ease around the hoops to create moving forms of creatures made from a child's imagination and ingenuity. Panic almost made her rush forward on the wings of religious history and the cruelty written down but never seen, but she ran straight into Alexavier's arm. Orilion passed off the hoops slowly to the child in front of him, letting the air drop into their hands instead. Laughter bubbled from them when they attempted to copy Orilion's movements, with the others poking at the dancing hoops.
"Sir Skeptic seems happy," Alexavier remarked when Orilion hid a smile behind his hand when the Azarian child created a dragon with the hoops, flapping its wings and their arms along with it. "Why are you worried?"
"Just—" Falora sucked in her tongue and drowned in shame. "I don't know why I'm worried."
Alexavier appeared to let her stumble slide to return to the butcher when he came out hauling strange canisters seeping out mist from their tops. Runes painted along the tops, swept with swirls and clouds. He nodded and passed a couple of coins over to the butcher. "Let's make this one trip, shall we?" he called over to them when the butcher returned to his shop after helping Alexavier load the containers onto a small carriage. "Do you two mind helping me get these rations on the ship? You too, Sir Skeptic!"
Orilion lifted his head, then left the children to their newfound wonder to reach them. He went to grab one of the containers, but the same burst of panic slammed into her heart and she lunged out to grab his hand to stop him from revealing the truth. Electricity swept up her arm, and she drew her hand back. "I can do that. I've had to lift up barrels of fish, this is easy." Falora hopped onto the small carriage to sort through the containers, though struggled with the larger ones which held the meat of the aetherbeast. And Alex is too clever... perfect for a pilot, not so much when Orilion needs to keep his identity under wraps and is making no effort to do that. A huff left her nose when she bounced off the carriage, and winced when Alex headed up to Orilion.
"Can you pull this?" Alex said and slapped the side of the carriage. "I'll get behind and push. It does get quite heavy with the amount of containers we have." Zyle moved forward, but frowned when Alexavier waved him off. "No, no, Sir Skeptic and I can handle this."
"Are you... sure?" Zyle raised an eyebrow.
"Sure as rain," Alex said and put his hands on the back of the carriage. "Onward, then! I want to get back into the sky before evening hits." He pushed against the cart, and in front, Orilion took the cue and headed forward. Falora resisted the urge to chew on her nails. "You don't mind if I call you Sir Skeptic, right?"
"If that's what you want to call me."
"Well, you know names have power. You mentioned your name was Ori — is that your full name or just a nickname?" Alex beamed with amusement. "Though, I can always get along with someone who appreciates my nicknames." His ears twitched, Falora sucked on her lips at the line of the conversation while she wandered beside him, though whenever she went to help him push, Alexavier shook his head. "I do hope you're enjoying yourself up here, though. Any of those pesky lost memories come back to you?"
Orilion remained quiet for a while. "No, sadly."
The airship came close, landed on a raised outcropping — the perfect size for docking airships.
"Are you sure it's not heavy?" Zyle asked and came closer.
"Oh, not at all!" Alexavier smiled, and then let his arms drop and the carriage to keep going. Falora choked on her next breath when Zyle widened his eyes and Orilion failed to notice the change. Both turned to stare at her. Too many questions. Not enough lies.
No! Falora rushed to catch up with the back to slam her arms against it. "If you wanted to switch you could've just said so," she hissed under her breath.
"Why? Your friend is very strong."
Back to the airship, Orilion stopped, completely unaware. No questions left Zyle and Alex's mouth when they ascended the gangplank with the rations. Ready for the inevitable, she tensed her shoulders and helped them load the containers in the storagehold. If Orilion isn't more careful he's going to get Celestial Templars on him. Alex continued to hold his uncharacteristic silence save for a cheerful whistle leaving in a soft tune through his lips.
"Well!" Alex broke it with a clap on one of the containers. "Shall we finish our previous rations?"
Zyle rolled his eyes in fondness. "Guess I'll get cooking before we launch."
Falora rushed back onto the upper deck to make sure Orilion got into no trouble, but her concern dropped into dismay when he leaned on the railing to stare over the island, his features sullen which dragged down his timeless features. Until Alex bounced up to him to smack him in the back. "Nothing like some lunch to get to know each other better!" Alexavier gathered them closer to the wheel. "Don't worry, the Vortex won't bite."
Falora sat down with no small amount of reluctance. How long can I make up lies? Orilion joined them on the ground, and after a while, Zyle rejoined with a tray of four plates.
"It's going to be a while until we reach Celestan. I do need to make another stop, but... I can't help but recall you said Arth'lun specifically when you first propositioned me and Zyle for our help."
Falora chose a plate. "Yes."
"It's safe to assume you mean the crater ruins, right?" Alex grabbed his plate. "And... not the fabled part of the ruins that legend says still rests in the sky to this day?"
Orilion tensed up at her side, but kept his attention on his meat platter. "I meant... Celestan," she corrected and refused to let Alex control the flow of the conversation. "Why? Do the Azari believe a part of Arth'lun is still in the clouds?"
"Mhm." Alex chewed on his food. "Of course, no one has successfully maneuvered through the highlands. Not with conventional airships, because—"
"You need dragon wings," Orilion whispered.
Falora pinched him, but he failed to react.
"As the stories say," Alex said without comment to Orilion's. "No airship has come close to the fabled highlands. It's said there's a torrential barrier created by Asen'Orilion to protect the Seat of the Six." His gaze trailed on them, but said god beside her yet failed to show any emotion at all. "I know you Landers don't have a favourable view of said god."
"Asen'Orilion worship is outlawed and punishable," Falora mumbled. Alex nodded and took another bite of his food while Orilion stared down at his untouched plate. "Is Asen'Orilion worship outlawed in the Azarian kingdoms?"
"Yes." Alexavier sighed. "There's a couple of differences and caveats though. In our tales, Asen'Orilion didn't start as evil incarnate. Something turned him into that terrible monster the Landers believed he always was." Beside her, Orilion blinked and raised his head with a furrowed brow. "Storms are forces of nature. It stands to reason that the god who rules that domain would be the same way. A force of nature, liable to shift with the flip of a coin. Storms don't care for morals, they will do what they will... but, for as much as he represented that facet..." Alexavier raised a finger to his lips. "Nature is not always cruel." He leaned back. "My grandfather told me a story that stuck with me for a long time."
"Why?" Orilion mumbled through his fork.
"It's a little silly." Alexavier put his plate down with a smile. "Before the fall of the Dragon Gods, a young Lander decided to make the pilgrimage to the highest peaks of Arth'lun. Of course, one needed tried and true dragon wings to get up there. One had to make deals with the dragonkin just for a glimpse. They found one such dragonkin, who agreed to serve patronage to their efforts — though refused to show their face." He smiled at them. "This mysterious dragonkin told them the surefire way to see the highest cloudlands — far higher than Arth'lun itself was to get patronage... from Asen'Orilion himself."
"What happened?" Falora asked, drawn into the story and the pictures Alex drew with words.
"Well, what this Lander didn't know was that they had come across Ase'Lesinia — the one who tests knowledge and curiosity in mysterious ways," Alex said. "He followed directions into the deepest shadow and came across a bridge made out of the clouds and golden rain. They stepped upon it to cross the threshold and followed it right to a small inlet where it was rumoured Asen'Orilion spent his time dozing when not within the seat of his power."
"Is the story where he turns evil?" Orilion muttered, and Falora pinched him to silence him.
"That's a story for dinner, not lunch." Alex settled his gaze on Orilion. "I mentioned this was a silly story. Back to it; the mortal revelled in the beautiful murals and runes—"
Prickles went up her back at a faint hazy image. Frozen wind. Colours sparkled and intensified though the world refused to continue on. Pillars of marble raised to touch the clouds, but Alex continued, "Unfortunate timing was to be his undoing though." A giggle left his mouth and shattered the image the conduit showed her. "Ah, how do I put this in a polite way?"
"The mortal stumbled on Asen'Orilion in an aether pool," Zyle stated flatly.
Orilion sucked in a breath and choked. Alex beamed at him. "What is so funny, Sir Skeptic? Even Gods can be beset by unintended peepers. It happens to the best of us."
Falora failed to stop her own giggle. "I suppose. What happened next?"
"Well, here is where your Landers would scream and point 'heresy'," Alex remarked. "For, your version of the God of Storms is a representation of its fury. Ours is the representation of its calm." He opened his arms. "This Lander was struck by the beauty that was Asen'Orilion — a living, breathing embodiment of the sky." He set his arms down with a tsk. "You Landers repeat over and over that due to his evil, he must be a ferocious, ugly being. The truth is, the most dangerous creatures are those who are fairer of face and do not show their thorns within their physical appearance."
Falora eyed Orilion, who refused to look at Alex, but he mused, "What happened to the mortal?"
"The story ends there for us Azari," Alex said, his voice soft as he stood up. "I'm sure Landers have their versions of that story. I can even take a stab in the dark. One, angered by the interruption and audacity, smote the hapless mortal where he stood." Alex twisted on his heel and pointed at them. "Another, driven by lust that which would never satisfy him, took the mortal and birthed more monsters."
Orilion went quiet when Zyle took their empty plates and moved away. With the two out of earshot, she grabbed onto his shoulders. "Orilion."
"I'm fine, Falora." He got up and moved for the ladder to the crow's nest. "I just need some shuteye."
Walls of clouds blocked her from the god she failed to drive a knife through and chose instead to guide him to Arth'lun — a tale which no longer stood the test of the truth in front of her.
Was I ever the only one who lied?