The woman remained unshaken. “Kill me if you wish, dark elf, but I am unarmed. What would that make you?”
“Just answer the question!”
The priestess took a deep breath. “More than a century ago, Bravoure doomed her own fate. You should know better than anyone.” She exhaled with her words.
Ahna remained silent, listening.
“The Final Solution, the dokkalfar cleansing. The conquest of Iskala. Innocents who lived in mere villages were slaughtered.” Her timbre has changed. Vibrations quavered in her voice, as though this was more personal. “And for what? Blackiron? For war? It was about time Mort sent his disciple. Bravoure signed a contract with Death the moment it pledged its people.”
“He’s been sleeping under Gurdal for decades, maybe centuries. But soon, he will awaken, and the dead will walk. Bravoure will pay.” Her solemn voice ended in a frail voice.
“Who are you talking about?”
“The Avatar. The Nameless One.”
Ahna lowered her pistol. So many names! She had no idea what the priestess meant. The little she knew about the god Mort is that he supposedly guided dead souls to the Underworld, nothing more.
“Who is the Nameless One?” she asked, impatient. The priestess was not giving her anything useful.
“The one without a name, the void dragon who sleeps beneath the ruins.”
Ahna froze instantly. The mention of void dragon completely shattered the wall she had put between her and the priestess. Her fears of what she would find had come true. A little voice in her mind taunted her with a vain I told you so.
Something had gone terribly wrong here. Apprehension settled in Ahna’s stomach. Fear of what was to come. She could not let the priestess go, not like this.
“This is madness,” Ahna blurted. “Who else is involved in this grand plan of destruction?” Her tone had gone from impatient to cynical.
The priestess smiled. The light around Ahna’s arm dimmed, and she could see, further in the distance, past the woman in a fur shawl, the undead creatures slowly return. The elf had to think fast. She could read in the woman’s eyes the flicker of condemnation. She knew she would not get out of this alive. She had to protect herself and Luky.
Ahna raised her pistol again, but before the barrel was fully loaded, the priestess shifted her stance. She came closer and swung her scepter in Ahna’s direction. But not in the way that would be expected. The bottom of the scepter touched Ahna’s forehead. The priestess’s eyes lit, and she rotated her scepter like she would a key in a lock. Ahna was just in time to launch an arcane pulse in the woman’s direction before everything in her field of vision went black.
* * *
“Meriel,” a voice called. Its chime was distant and clouded.
“Meriel, wake up!”
Ahna could not discern who spoke. She kept her eyes closed and focused on the vibrations in the air.
“Meriel!”
Her consciousness amplified. The sounds wholly reached her pointy ears. Ahna opened her eyes and gasped when she noticed she stood on top of a cliff. A familiar one, for that matter, for this was the low cliff of Mount Anta, the mountain that watched over the city of Antaris.
The city still stood, precisely as she remembered it in the distant corners of her memory. The faculty’s spire pointed toward the bright blue sky. As she gazed upon the city of her past, a bright flash of light flared right before her. A spark of radiance pierced through the air. It expanded into the shape of a large creature with wings and a long, delicate neck. But it was not a dragon or anything like it. It was a swan. Or…
A phoenix.
The creature entirely made of light beat its majestic wings slowly to stay in place. Its rhythm matched the cadence of Ahna’s heart, and its presence brought her to the purest of calm.
Ahna knew who the creature was, and that it had been with her for the past weeks. And it had traveled through time with her.
“You are the voice,” she inferred. “The Phoenix of Balance.”
The shining creature nodded with brilliance. It spoke to Ahna without moving, like an intrinsic transmission that simply belonged. “I speak to you through the conduit.”
The conduit...the one created by the Arc of Light. Perhaps Ahna could ask the burning questions that had brooded inside her mind. Though now was not the time. First of all, where was she, and why was she here?
“We’re in your mind,” the phoenix said in response to her unspoken question. “The priestess caught you in a confessional, a mind prison. But I can get you out.”
“How?” Ahna asked.
“I can wake you, but I want to take this occasion first to share something with you.”
The elf remained silent and attentive. There was no other place where she wanted to be right now. The phoenix could give her long-awaited answers. And it was ready to.
“I am a projection from Elysium. Your soul is connected to this realm.”
“Elysium?” Ahna had never heard that word.
“Elysium is where the Ancients have gone, Meriel. It is a higher plane of existence.”
Ahna’s eyes rounded. With that answer came ten thousand more questions. But she was silenced. Absolutely unable to speak.
“But there is someone else who has crossed the Domain of Stars and joined Elysium,” the phoenix said. “She wishes to speak to you.”
“Meriel?” someone said behind her.
A voice that Ahna never forgot.
Her heart stopped. She could no longer breathe. Everything that made sense faded away into oblivion. Tears began to glaze her eyes, and Ahna slowly turned around. The woman behind her wore the same gown Ahna had last seen her wear. Ahna collapsed to her knees, and the woman came closer. She kneeled beside her and took her in her arms. Her lips landed on Ahna’s forehead for a gentle and dearly missed kiss. Her eyes, more purple than the purest amethyst, delved deep into her daughter’s.
"H-how?" Ahna stammered. "Mother..."
Skaiel Arkamai gleamed more than ever. “Meriel, I don’t have much time.”
The phoenix still caressed the air behind them with its wings. Skaiel helped her daughter stand.
“What happened? What is going on?” Ahna could not contain her tears. “How are you?”
Skaiel hushed her with a finger to her lips. “There is a complex relationship between the Heavens and Elysium.” She turned to the phoenix, inviting Ahna to do the same. “But gods and Ancients have settled once again. Just as they did when they created Balance and Harmony.”
Ahna did not understand a single word, but she knew the story. At least, some of it. The last time she was caught in a vision like this one, she had heard it again. On the far side of Luna, in her own version of Miggdra, with the wise cleric Brother Gideon. Balance and Harmony being the result of a common accord between two entities more powerful than could ever be imagined.
But this was not something Ahna wished to hear about. Not now.
“What is happening, Mother?” she asked, her voice almost breaking but remaining firm. “Where is my magic? Why am I here? Why did the Planar Mask take me two hundred years in the future? What happened to Bravoure?” Her questions grew into an emotional tirade of confusion. “Who in Hell were these people who talk of Mort and avatars and all that?”
And the final question: “What am I supposed to do to fix this?”
Skaiel brought a hand to her daughter’s cheek and caressed it softly. A tender smile crossed her face. “Your magic is still here with you,” she soothed. “In its purest of forms.”
Ahna had learned nothing useful.
“Let your friends handle the Bravoure part, and focus on what truly affects you,” Skaiel said.
Her daughter remained silent, expecting more.
“There is a way to save him,” Skaiel eventually said, her hand on Ahna’s heart. She meant him, the man she could not save.
“Tell me,” Ahna instantly retorted. This was something she could work with.
�
��You must find his soul and return it.”
Ahna shook her head, instantly dismissing her mother’s last words. “Cedric’s soul was consumed by the Shadow Realm,” she affirmed, but the tremors in her voice revealed the doubts she already had about that statement.
Skaiel shook her head, but she did not say more. Instead, she turned to the phoenix and let it speak.
“He is Child of Guan,” the phoenix said. “Which means he is a child of me, for I and Harmony were the first and only spawns of the horned dragon.”
“But I am also birthed by the Ancients, and therefore, Cedric’s soul is part draconic and part celestial. The Shadow Realm will never hold enough power to consume such a soul.”
Celestial? Ahna had never heard of the term. Was this what the Ancients called themselves? She had so many more questions, but only one felt relevant to ask now.
“Where is he then?” she urged. “Where is his soul? How do I even find it?”
Skaiel lowered her hand to her daughter’s shoulder. “Cedric’s situation is something that should have never been. It has set the Fabric of Realms astray. Perhaps it is the entire reason why you have found yourself here, two hundred years in the future, dóttr mi. His soul ended where all faults in the Fabric find their way.”
“Just tell me where,” Ahna pleaded. “Tell me where I can find him.”
“The Hollow Earth, Meriel, that’s where all discarded souls go. Souls that don’t belong anywhere. Souls that the Fabric cannot place.”
Ahna rolled her eyes. How in Guan’s name, and Arcanis, could she even get to the Hollow Earth, the forgotten plane? How was she supposed to do that? Yet another foolish quest put on her damned shoulders!
She had done it, though, once, long ago. But that was back in the...
“Go to the Dwellunder,” Skaiel said in a soft tone. “Find—”
“No!” Ahna shouted. “The Dwellunder? Are you insane?” She gawked at her mother and the phoenix. For a second, she questioned whether this vision was even real.
It did feel real. And it also felt like this was her only choice.
“Find Veraniel,” Skaiel instructed. “She is still in Mal, and she will help you.”
Ahna had not heard that name in years. Veraniel, her Ritualism teacher and her mother’s confidante.
“Returning his soul to the fiend he’s become is how you save him, Meriel,” Skaiel explained. “This is how you undo an Undead’s Curse. That is how you allow him to die.”
Die?
Ahna was supposed to return his soul, and Cedric could die?
Was this the only way? Was there not any other way?
Skaiel’s hand pulled her daughter into a warm embrace. Ahna held her eyes open, shattered only by the idea that lingered in her mind.
That is how you allow him to die.
“After the war, I spent weeks looking for a way to save him,” Ahna confessed. A truth she had not yet dared face. “But I gave up.” She closed her eyes, holding a tear. “I never told anyone about the dreams I had of him calling to me. Nothing makes sense anymore.”
Skaiel let go of her daughter and took a step back.
“Why am I two hundred years late, Mother?” Ahna accused. “How can I be sure this isn’t just a dream?” Her voice got louder but broke instantly.
“I think you know this isn’t a dream,” Skaiel said in a solemn tone. She then took another step back.
Ahna knew it was Skaiel’s time to fade away. It would have hurt had she not walled off her emotions to protect herself. “Do you really have to leave?”
Skaiel smiled. “My time in the conduit is but short. But I am always by your side, Meriel. Always. I watch over you, no matter how far.”
Skaiel held her smile for a little while. Then she turned around, and her image dissolved into the air, along with the rest of the world in Ahna’s mind.
* * *
It was Jules’s voice snapping through the trees that awoke Ahna. Luky heard it as he was dragging her away with all the strength he had, but he had not gone far. The two robed men lay dead on the soil, their empty sockets fixed on Ahna’s body being dragged away. The priestess was gone. The restless creatures had disappeared.
“Help!” Luky shouted across the dark-lit forest. “Jules!”
Gallops pounded the ground. A large brown horse surged out of the foliage and stopped by Luky and Ahna. Jules jumped off and rushed to Ahna’s help as she slowly regained consciousness. He took her face in his hands to see if she was still responsive.
"Ahna!" he called. "Ahna, wake up!"
Ahna opened her eyes slowly and blinked a few times.
Jules did not give her time to complain. He lifted her up and helped her on his horse. She could barely keep herself sitting straight. He pushed himself up in the stirrup to mount the horse and sat behind Ahna, holding her in place so she would not fall. With one hop, Luky came to sit back to back with Jules.
Jules peeked over his shoulder with fierce blue eyes. “When we get back, I’m grounding you!” he roared. He was utterly furious.
“But—”
“No buts, Luky!” Jules barked. “This place is not a place for a kid! This place isn’t actually for anyone! Might as well punish Ahna too.”
The idea briefly crossed his mind. He would happily tie Ahna to a chair and scold her when they got back. But that was assassin-Jules speaking, and not regular jolly-Jules. He took a deep breath to calm himself. He let it out slowly, releasing the anguish and leaving room for the relief he felt that Luky and Ahna were safe.
Jules pulled Arrow’s reins to turn him around. He got a hold of Ahna’s horse, who stood still and nervous, and managed to lead him back on the path. Once all set and ready, Jules clicked his tongue and loped out of this godsforsaken forest!
6
Wayfinder
At the edge of the Valley of Tears flowed a waterfall more majestic than any Luthan had ever seen on Terra. Its opalescent waters reflected the light of Sol into particles of immaculate beauty. It flowed into a blue and green lake, where loti and other water flowers bloomed and thrived.
Luthan took a moment to appreciate the scene before him, and smiled when he noticed the little creatures of his youth also enjoyed the atmosphere. Wisps native to Fallvale buzzed underneath the waterfall. They zigzagged through the curtain of water, undisturbed by its strain—Luthan could hear their little giggles from where he stood. Again, something he had not seen for centuries.
Wisps were creatures of the faerie class. They possessed powers akin to raw elemental magic, had a mind of their own, and a cheeky sense of humor. Between fairies, pixies, and nymphs, wisps were the most unpredictable, agitated, and tittering sort of beings.
Faeries fancied woodland untouched by civilization. They lived in secluded forests and mountains where they could have their own tiny world and not worry about everything that existed outside of it. Here, at the edge of the Valley of Tears, faeries could prosper in peace.
Ahead of him, a couple of steps away, was a rocky road to reach the foot of the Sun Mountain. Luthan crouched by the lake to fill his water canteen and wash his face in the process. A good and refreshing break was highly required, he realized. It was neither warm nor cold in Fallvale, but fresh water did him good.
The air whistled behind him. A light gust of wind caressed the back of his head.
And something pulled on his long blond hair.
“Kyær’ da, alv!” a tiny voice said.
Luthan turned around, knowing it was a wisp teasing him. He was not surprised when he saw the little creature with florescent wings and dawn blue legs and arms wave at him with a gleeful smile.
“Hvorda’ har du de’?” the wisp, most likely male due to his coloring, asked.
Wisps did not speak Common, nor did they usually speak Ljosalfari, but in this little one’s case, his Ljosalfari was almost spot on.
“Can you speak Common too?” Luthan asked.
The wisp buzzed in circles for a moment until he came at a s
tandstill in front of Luthan’s face. Then he poked Luthan on the nose with a loud, “Boop!” and flew away, laughing.
Luthan shrugged, closed his canteen, and hooked it to the back of his belt. He returned to Mist, who still munched on some wild grass by a willow tree. After mounting his horse, he made his way past the waterfall, onto a slope that could lead him above the canyon. A few minutes later, Luthan reached the top of the cliff, right beside the waterfall. He took yet another moment to admire the lake and valley below him. Far in the distance, by the horizon, he could see Norsika’s towers and bridges gleaming, almost like an ethereal mirage. He took a deep breath and finally turned around to face the foot of the Sun Mountain. His eyes climbed the mount until he could see, at the crook of a series of cliffs, the triangular facade of the Solar Vault, the temple built by the Ancients where resided the Item of Power he needed. A few hours up the mountain, and Luthan would reach this temple. Then he would have to face its guardian. The idea made him shiver slightly, for he had never encountered this being before. A few had, most on missions from the Fallvale Academy. It was not a creature that inspired fear, nor was it aggressive. It was just...enticing, from what he had heard. It had a certain power over those who challenged it.
If he could convince the creature to let him access the vault, maybe he could find what he was looking for. The Wayfinder would lead him somewhere, where he would get answers on how to save Bravoure from herself. And maybe after that, he could finally find a way back to Ahna.
* * *
Luthan squinted as his thoughts boiled in his mind. He only stared at Mist’s wobbling head while she trotted up the trail. He did not look at anything else. Ever since he had set out on the path leading to the Solar Vault, he could not stop thinking about everything that had happened in the past ten years. Upon his arrival, the realization that he had arrived over a hundred and fifty years too far had shattered him. He had been the last Missing to return in over sixty years. The magi had long locked the Planar Mask in the Academy’s vault, demanding the Item never be used again.
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