Requiem of Depravity

The sun loomed on the horizon, staining the sky a bloody red over the lands of Tivuor. The silhouette of a man could be seen sitting on a plateau, his legs dangling off the edge. Below him raged a battle between his homeland and Myrsk. Technically, he should have been with the other Tivuorian soldiers, but the man did what he wanted, when he wanted. He slowly got to his feet and looked over the ledge for a few seconds before turning on his heel and walking off, hands in his pockets and a coat flaring out behind him. The man disappeared into the shadow of the mountains.

Below him, the battle halted, both sides backing away from each other as something massive rose out of the ground. A writhing mass of tentacles and gaping maws arose, screeching and growling. And yet the man walked, ignoring the horror. The screams of dying men echoed even louder throughout the mountains, with the guttural roars and piercing screeches added on top. In a matter of minutes the forces on both sides were decimated, only a handful of soldiers remaining of the original forces.

A small cave held a few Tivuorian soldiers in hiding. They sat, huddled together in fear of the monstrosity. Footsteps started to echo off the walls. One of the soldier's heads perked up. "Kaza, where the hell were-"

"Shut up." The man known as Kaza strode in, hands in his pocket. He was a tall, fairly muscular man with slightly tanned skin and mid-length chestnut-colored hair. His eyes were of a pale crimson, and the same color was inked from each corner of his right eye to his jawline. He was wearing a black shirt, dark grey pants and a maroon coat. He wore a black fingerless glove on his left hand, middle finger of which was adorned with a simple silver ring set with a sparkling ruby. His right hand had a black gauntlet that went from his elbow to his fingertips, and was slightly gothic in appearance. His face carried a melancholy expression as his eyes took in his surroundings, his voice low and emotionless. "You hide in here like cowards. Why do you not fight back against the monstrosity. It killed your opponent and your comrades both. Anything left of the Myrskite forces would be glad to help you. 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend'."

A few of the soldiers got to their feet, a look of grim determination set upon their features. They were dressed differently, wearing the crimson tunic of Tivuor, a black mountain belching molten rock into the sky emblazoned across their chests. Helms and chainmail made of black iron, and shields carrying the same crest as their tunics. They picked up their blades, wickedly sharp, single-edged swords made of the same black iron as their armor. Kaza's expression didn't change, but his eyes softened, betraying his emotionless facade to the feelings of pride he carried for these men deep within. The man appeared to carry no weapons himself, however those who fought alongside him knew that wasn't the case. He turned towards the creature, which was waving a soldier around in the air with one of it's many tentacles. It hurled the body towards the cave at high speeds. It collided right above the mouth, causing a few pebbles to be knocked loose, as well as a soupy pile of gore landing in front of the men. Kaza turned around, taking a couple steps back. "It knows where we are. Our best luck is to retreat to the back and find another place that we can flank it from," he said. The others picked up their gear, following Kaza. He did a quick headcount as he walked. There were eight, himself included.

Another of the abomination's shrieks pierced the cavern. There was a loud crash, then the ground rumbled, dust and pebbles falling out of the ceiling. A few seconds passed, and a large boulder crashed through the ceiling. Kaza went flying and hit the cave wall, sinking to the ground. He could feel his consciousness fading, and as all started to fade to black, he looked over the men he was with. It looked like everyone was still alive. Good...


"....journey to....temple....descendents..."

Kaza sat upright, rather quickly. They were in a small, circular chamber in the cave system, a fire blazing in the middle. There was a small hole in the ceiling of the cave, from which the smoke was venting out of. "Welcome back." Kaza nodded at the soldier. It looked like everyone was alive, though two others were unconscious as well. He shook his head to clear it. What was that voice...? he wondered, staring into the fire. "We're stopping here to rest for the night," he commanded.
"It's only midday."
"I don't care. We need to stop and rest. It will give me some time to think of a plan."
The others nodded begrudgingly and unrolled their bedrolls. Kaza leaned against the cave wall and sighed. "I'll take first watch. I'll wake you in a couple hours."

The hours passed quickly for Kaza, and as it came time for him to sleep, he fell into his dreamworld rather quickly. The same voice whispered in his head, and he bolted upright again, this time in a completely black area. It was like there was light, but everything else was gone. He could see his body perfectly, but there was nothing else that existed. He got to his feet and began walking. He was starting to feel panic rising up in his chest when he heard a voice, and a phantom appeared in front of him. It was a grizzled, muscular man with long, black hair and a black beard. He wore fiery armor of rock and magma, and a large, flaming hammer was strapped to his back. He opened his mouth, and voices filled Kaza's head.

He understood the phantom's communication, though there were no words. It was the phantom of the Volcano knight. The knight of the Seven that stopped the Old Gods. Kaza was to fill this man's shoes. He was to meet with the other six, and they were to seal away the Old Gods once more. He was to find the temple and find the hammer. He took a deep breath and stepped backwards, falling into an endless void.

He awoke moments later, in a cold sweat. It was just a dream. None of it was real. Except...
A realization dawned over him. That thing is an Old God... he thought, sitting up and staring at his hands. Whether it was just a dream or not, he knew he had to at least try and find the temple.





A week passed since Kaza narrowly escaped the Old God. He and the soldiers he was with managed to make it back to the war camp, where Tivuor and Myrsk already formed a shaky treaty and were attacking the beast. Kaza ended up sneaking off later that day. He'd recently arrived in Barahm, traveling there on a feeling. The phantom didn't specify where to go, but it was like something was tugging him towards the desert country. As soon as he arrived, the feeling disappeared, but he felt he needed to stay there. He'd walked into a bar, hoping to get a decent meal and maybe a room for the night. He was tired from his many days of travel. Barahm and Tivuor weren't exactly all that close. He ordered his meal and sat there, eating. He wondered if the other Seven felt the same pull to Barahm that he did.

In the country of Thyella, on the outskirts of a small village, a lone hunter trudged through the snow, carrying today's prize, a full grown male wolf, over shoulder, as she headed home.

Her name was Cielo, the best hunter among her village. She stood about 5"7, with long black hair, pale skin, and piercing gray eyes. She wore a fur coat and a pair of pant, both of which she had made herself, over her curvacious body, and large assets, and slender legs. On her back she carried a bow, and a satchel of arrows, which she used to hunt. Since the young age of thirteen, seven years ago when she first picked up a bow, she took to archery like it was the air she breathed.

She let out a sigh of relief as she returned to her cabin, where she lived with her two sisters. After setting down the day's prize, she went to go take a bath, leaving her younger sister to make dinner, as was the agreement.

"....journey to....temple....descendents..."

Cielo's eyes snapped open, from where she laid in the bath, looking around for the source of the noise, but found nothing. Later that night, she had dream, where she was visited by a phantom, who looked a lot like her, only with snow white hair, while wearing cyan armor, and an ornate bow strapped to her back, with a satchel of arrows. Ceielo understood who it was, and what her message was, she was the Tundra knight, and now Cielo must leave home, for a distant land.

*A week Later*

Cielo soon found herself in a town in Barahm, sweating like all hell from the heat. She loved warm things, hence why she love to take hot baths, but this was absolutely ridiculous. She needed a drink, and soon...

On the edge of Myrsk's capital city, Corentine was watching out the window of her house. She could see a large meadow expanding out into what look liked forever, although rumor had it a battle was raging not so far from here.

Corentine pulled her blond hair up in a ponytail and looked in the mirror to make sure it looked okay. Her deep blue eyes were like the water in the ocean during a storm, as her father had always said. Maybe her father was in that battle right now. She had no idea, but she missed him.

She headed out of the house after locking it up. Mom was out working for the night, and wouldn't be back til morning. On the way down the street, she passed by a man with a sack full of envelopes heading in the direction of her house. She thought nothing of it.

Corentine loved the meadow, and there were clouds in the sky that were saying rain was coming. Rain was something she adored, and she loved running in it. She took off and ran through the meadow happily, and drops fell on her face and arms. Eventually, the drops turned to a downpour, and within seconds she was drenched. She didn't care. She laid down in the meadow, letting the rain run across her face as it lulled her to sleep.

"....journey.... to temple..... descendants...."

Corentine woke up suddenly, drenched and shivering. There was a woman in front of her, with gray hair and gray eyes. She held a blade with a lightning bolt carved in it. The Storm knight. She disappeared, and Corentine shook her head to make sure she was really awake.

It was dark now. She got up and walked home, and on the placemat she found an envelope addressed to Mom from the Myrsk Military. She smiled, hoping it was a letter saying that Dad was coming home. Curiousity got the better of her, and so she opened it.

Tears rolled down her face as the paper dropped from her hand. She ran to her room, threw some clothes and some money in a backpack, and walked out of that house.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~A week later~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Corentine didn't stop walking until she finally stopped in Barahm. Something led her there for some reason, and she wasn't sure why. But every night she had stopped and cried herself to sleep, remembering the day Dad left to join the military. She would never forgive him now. She hadn't seen him since that day, and she would never see him again. They were so close, he taught her everything she knew. He had the same eyes as her, even. And those eyes were forever closed.

She had to stop thinking about that. Finally, she walked into a bar and sat at a table by herself, leaving her backpack by her feet. She was starving. Mom must be worried sick. Why was she even here. Finally she just held her head in her hands silently.

The overcast sky had persisted for several days not bringing light to the citizens of Oturas, a large city in the nation of Usvaan, since the gray clouds had come. The small nearby lake had been misting more than normal as well sending fog roiling in upon the morn that was so thick that it people could hardly see a couple of feet in front of them. The people considered themselves lucky that this only occurred very early such that it didn't infringe on business too badly. However, the ominous weather seemed to sap the townsfolk of their motivation, the gray stone of the multiple buildings throughout the city only serving to increase the levels of apathy. It was like the color had been drained from the town completely, even if the vibrant green foliage of the surrounding woodlands and the beautiful blue of the water offered what they could to keep things lively. It just could not be helped. Rumors of war between the other nations impacted trade heavily and lowered morale. They were supposed to be a world united, but now superstitions were driving a wedge between them all. Nothing good would come of the fighting. The people just didn't understand. Bloodshed was a thing of the past, but it seemed that some habits were hard to drop, and the past was out to get them all again. Or was it something else? Yes, it was. More superstitions relating to the Old Gods returning which was impossible! The Seven had long since sealed them away. Why would anyone doubt their power? Why would anyone want to spread such a horrid rumor that the Old Gods would arise again and enslave the world as they had before? It did not matter. All that mattered was that now the world was on the verge of turmoil, and no one in Usvaan had any idea what to do about it. However, one maiden in particular who was highly respected in the city as a priestess had locked herself away in a stone shrine on the outskirts of town, her head bowed and hands upon the altar where two candles were lit. She was deep in prayer, and the people could not seem to find the heart to take her out. Why would they? If anyone could have a sudden epiphany that would lead them back to peaceful ways, it was her.

Evangeline, the Maiden of the Mists.

"How is she today?" a man asked, approaching the shrine from a dirt path that led towards it from the main town. He was talking to a guard who was keeping watch over Evangeline and the shrine. The people had made it their duty to keep a watchful eye over her. Guards took turns keeping watch every hour of the day. It only took one person to keep an eye on everything, so it was hardly any trouble. The guards considered it their duty to Usvaan and even the other nations to aid in any way they could to help restore the peace to the world.

"She's been in there for three days at least, but she seems to be doing fine," the guard replied roughly, scratching his head a bit. "I don't know how she's managed to go this long without food or water. I really hope she comes out of there soon." The other man nodded to him and whispered a farewell and a good luck before departing. The guards were used to people checking up on Evangeline throughout the day, and they even held a large gathering in the evening in the case that she would come out. "Girl, you've definitely got an iron will," the guard muttered to himself.

"It takes not will, but dedication and motivation," a female voice said suddenly, soft and sweet. Her words hung in the air like drops of water forming little clouds of vapor that seemed to fade away leaving nothing but the sheer impact of her statement to settle into the very heart of the listener. Standing just outside the shrine was a rather tall, lithe woman wearing a long, flowing white dress with so many ripples that it seemed to go on and on into eternity as if folding within itself, yet expanding outwards at the same time. The sleeves of her beautiful garment were long and much to large for her arms and the very ends obscured her hands completely. Each hem was a pale purple in color: at the bottom of her dress, around the sleeve, and even the collar. She wore a rock necklace with a single white rock in the center shaped like a crescent moon. Her lustrous, white hair cascaded down her back in waves and draped over her shoulders with elegance. Gray eyes gazed sagely at the guard standing before her, her skin a ghostly white and her lips a faded pink.

"P-Priestess, you've returned to us," the guard marveled, ecstatic. "I have to tell the others!" He didn't wait for a reply from Evangeline but instead rushed off along the dirt path that led back to the city. Unfortunately, by the time he would return, the priestess would be gone leaving nothing but a note for them saying that she had to depart for the sake of peace, and that if the people of Usvaan would remain patient, then prosperity would return to this land. She promised them that she would do her best to see everyone happy again.

Evangeline had set off, not stopping until she reached a smaller village to stock up on some supplies. While she was entranced in the shrine, she was directed to journey to a temple. Where it was located was something she did not know. She would wander the land and perhaps find it by chance, or maybe encounter someone who knew more about it. She had a dream in the shrine of a woman of beauty like herself wearing rather revealing light blue armor beneath an overly large white overcoat, the sleeves spacious while the rest of the coat seemed to cling to the body at least somewhat, the edges lined with a light blue. The various straps and stripe patterns were of the same color along with the inside of the turned up collar. Laced between this woman's fingers had been six beautiful throwing knives made of such a material that all the woman had to do was turn her hands slightly and the knives appeared to be gone. This woman said nothing in Evangeline's dream, but the priestess felt in her heart that this woman was the Mist Knight--one of the Seven long ago that sealed away the Old Gods. It seemed as though Evangeline would inherit the Mist Knight's weapons and armor, and she would have to find the other descendants of the Seven. Together, they were to find the temple where they all would find what was rightfully theirs. The Old Gods were back, and it was their job to stop them.

* * *

At least a week had passed since Evangeline had departed the small village with her supplies. Just as was her prerogative, she wandered the lands with no general destination, but the farther she traveled, the stronger she felt this sort of force dragging her closer to somewhere. The lands became hotter and hotter, and eventually, she found herself traveling the sands of Barahm--an odd place to wind up, or at least so she found. The desert was something she had never experienced before, and it was definitely dangerous. A town came into sight in due time, but by that point, the harsh desert had taken its toll on the Priestess. She was in dire need of water, and as she trundled through the streets of the town, she fell to her knees in front of a small fountain in the center of an intersection that was luckily still operational. She knew drinking still water was dangerous.

"The Divines watch over us. Blessed be this gift," Evangeline murmured, her voice weak as she cupped her hands into the fountain, scooping up some of the water, and bringing it to her lips. Draining every last drop, she sighed in content. "And what a glorious gift it is." If she had been forced to go on any longer, she probably would have collapsed. A hand reached for her stomach and she felt as if a swarm of butterflies were taking flight within. She had felt the feeling grown stronger and stronger as she approached wherever her destination was to be, but now it was so powerful, she had to wonder--was this the place she was meant to go?

Kaza's ears perked up to the sound of the door. In walked a beautiful woman, pale skin and dark haired, with the same style fur clothing as Thyellan soldiers wore, though on her it was much more form-fitting. She looked rather exhausted. He chuckled. Wearing fur in a desert country was not generally something one would normally do. He pushed himself out of the chair, having finished his meal, and strode over to the woman, taking a seat across from her. "Generally, fur is reserved for areas that are a little colder than here," he remarked sarcastically. "What brings you here?"

"I had nothing else to wear, and I doubt wearing nothing would have been a much better choice..." Cielo said to the man who had walked up to her. She recognized his clothes as similar to those who hail from Tivuor.

"I come for a drink, to help cool myself down." Cielo said, before turning to the counter, from where the drinks were.

Kaza's face retained it's usual melancholy expression. "You mean to tell me you travel unprepared?" He folded his arms. "Would it not for the alliance between Tivuor and Barahm, I would not be dressed in my native attire. You might consider watching your back. Many out here are not so friendly towards Thyellans." He turned around just as the door opened once more, this time being a blond girl. She looked sick, and something about her features reminded him of someone he'd seed during the Old God's rampage. He pushed the thoughts away, walking past her and out the door, heading down the street. A rather striking woman, with snow-white hair was busy sticking her face in a fountain. His path would take him across the intersection anyways, so he stood next to her, hands in his pockets. "There are better places to find refreshment, you know," he remarked dryly.

"Ye'll curse tha' day ya' messed wit' me, laddy," growled the bandit at Aeliel's feet. Physically, the bandit was not able to fight longer but the battle had not yet left his eyes. Aeliel pointed his arrow at the man's forehead, aiming to remedy this.

Aeliel had grown up in an old mountain village on the outskirts of Silar that was raided every year, and every year without fail, these brigands had to be driven off. He'd been doing it since he could hold a bow - Aeliel no longer thought about what he was doing; he just did it. Until now, that is. Aeliel had a clean shot; his target had not moved and was offering no resistance save a deadly glare. He was an easy three feet away; please, a child could hit the mark. And yet when Aeliel brought up his bow, he found that he could not release his arrow. He loosened his bowstring, the arrow still in his hand.

"Wh-what have you done to me...?" he whispered, suddenly lightheaded and dizzy. Every effort Aeliel made to finish the bandit off seemed to hurt himself, not physically but spiritually.

"Stop gloatin' an' finish me off," groaned the brigand. "Or can ya' not bring yerself to do it? Weaklin'."

Aeliel glowered but struggling to bring his arrow to his bow took his breath away.

"What ar--" The bandit was dispatched abruptly by a passing by villager.

Aeliel dragged himself away from the battle, a feat that didn't seem to weaken him. The farther he fled, the more strength returned to his body. When he reached his village again, Aeliel had mustered enough power to walk in.

Over the following days, he tested his disability. He needed to know what he could and could not bring himself to do before the next bandit attack. Hunting down stray rabbits, Aeliel found it was only taking a life that hurt him. Still, as a warrior and defender, this was a massive blow to his pride and confidence.

One night he found himself dreaming; again, he was facing the brigand, bow in hand, but this time, Aeliel did not raise his hand. This brigand was no ordinary man, he knew (though how, Aeliel could not tell you). There was a sudden flash of light, and in the bandit's place was a girl - no, Aeliel found himself thinking as he squinted into the light - she was surely an angel. Later he would wake up and remember not a single detail about this angel save for her eyes were the color of spring grass.

"Aeliel, listen to me," said the girl, the wisdom in her tone belying her young appearance.

"You," Aeliel said. He blinked several times as his eyes adjusted to the light. "You're the one who is preventing me from fighting."

"It is not me," the girl replied. "It is you. It is in your blood to protect life, not take it away."

"I'm a warrior," Aeliel argued through gritted teeth. He was beginning to feel faint again. "I need to fight."

"I have to go," the girl ignored him. Slowly, she began to fade into the light. Aeliel squeezed his eyes shut.

"I still have questions!" Aeliel shouted. "Don't go--"

"Barahm..." Her voice grew dimmer with the light. "....journey to....temple....descendents..."

Aeliel woke with a start, falling out of his bed in the meantime. He knew he'd had a dream with a girl in it, but he couldn't recall any clearer details.

And he knew he couldn't stay in the village anymore. It wasn't only his...disability that drove him. Something inside of him called him away...

"I had to come as soon as possible." Cielo shot back, as the man began to leave. "I was told to come here as fast as I could." She finished, before heading to the counter, and ordering a drink.

As the bartender prepared her drink, Cielo starred down at the sheathed knife that was tied to her waist. It was a present from her sisters, before she left, and Cielo had done her best to take care of it, and make good use of it over her journey.

As she took a sip of her drink, she heard movement behind her, the sound of multiple drunks approaching her. Of course... She thought, as a drunken voice behind her spoke up.

"Hey Thyellan bitch! That's a nice ass you got on ya." The drunk said from behind her. "How 'bout me and my buddies show you what we do with Thyellan whores around here."

"Hm?" Amidst the enjoyment of the splendid water soothing her dry mouth and throat, she could have sworn she heard someone talking to her. Looking next to her, surely enough there was a man standing there. He cut an impressive figure, and his eyes were such a unique color. Then again, many had said the same thing about her own. Standing up and brushing some of the loose sand from her white dress, she straightened her posture and gave the man a polite smile. "When you are but a step away from death and the thing that can save you is right next to you, why take two steps to get it?" she questioned him rhetorically, shooting down his statement which she found to be pointless and unwise. "Had I the stamina to venture forward, I would have let the fountain alone, but I imagined a quick drink from it would fuel me such that I could find better in due time."

Evangeline bowed her head to the man and began to walk away, giving him a curt wave. "As such, I do believe I shall try to find better now that I have the strength to go on." She didn't particularly care for men who spoke nonsense though she could see where he had been coming from. Perhaps there was a tavern nearby where she could drink the water from a glass instead of her hands, but it would be the same water nonetheless. Oh, how trivial the people have become, she thought in despair, stopping in her tracks for a moment to gaze at the strange man that had spoken to her. There was something....about him. What was it? She could feel the butterflies tormenting her stomach with the gentle beating of their numerous wings. What kept her rooted to that spot?

A rare smile twitched across Kaza's lips. "I believe you have a point, m'lady," he responded, with a slight bow of his head. "Thank you for enlightening me." He stood still for a moment, taking in the woman's features as she stood up. She had grey eyes and was rather tall, and her being emanated elegance. Kaza felt as if he were in the presence of royalty. "The tavern is that way. The men there are rather vile, so I would be careful," he said, pointing her in the direction of the tavern he'd just exited. "Although as you seem to have made it here on your own, I assume you are like a rose; beautiful, though one must be careful to mind the thorns." Satisfied with his comment, the man gave another slight bow and was on his way. He was off to search for supplies before heading off on his way to search for the other descendants. He absentmindedly wondered if any of the others felt the same pull he did. The Thyellan couldn't be a coincidence. He was definitely going to keep an eye on her.

"Why don't you an your buddies fuck off." Cielo said, finishing her drink, before standing up. This angered the drunk who had been speaking, and he grabbed at her. "Now listen here bit-" He began to say, before he was quickly cut of by Cielo delivering a quick and powerful kick to the man's greatest weak point. The drunk slowly slunk to the ground, his hands covering his crotch, while his friends rushed towards the Thyellan, and she began to go for her knife.

Corentine noticed a fight beginning to break out, and it looked like the woman in the middle of it had the upper hand. Corentine pulled out her own little dagger and tackled one of the men from behind, holding a knife to his throat. "Gentlemen like yourselves should know better than to try and hurt a lady." she snapped, kissing his cheek flirtatiously and mischievously.

So, the tavern was just on ahead. Two steps forward. One step past death. Perhaps she had misjudged the man. Shrugging her shoulders ever so slightly, she paced along the road until she reached a building with a sign that had 'Tavern' scrawled on it in decent lettering--lettering she thought was not befitting of a place where apparently the men were vile. She sighed slightly, wondering if it would not have been best to just stay back at the fountain, but a few of the locals had eyed her oddly. Had they never seen a weary stranger before? Living in the desert like this, they should have seen their fair share of odd people partaking in the water of the fountain. After all, it was just sitting there in all of its tantalizing glory, calling out like a mirage to those who had found themselves on death's doorstep, but the sweet relief was as real as anything else in the town.

Mustering up the nerve to open the door, she was dismayed as what she saw. There were several men surrounding a lone woman and Evangeline instantly became worried. Vile men? They had to be up to no good. A few of them were staggering even though they were just standing and not walking which meant they were drunk. What else was the priestess to expect? She walked towards the place where the woman was sitting, but things began to grow violent as the woman proved to be not as helpless as she appeared. No matter how strong she might have been, she was outnumbered. Taking amazingly graceful strides, she was upon the two that were rushing the woman. She grabbed them from behind, right by the collars and smashed their heads together harshly before letting them drop to the floor.

"A fitting place for low-lives," Evangeline said contentedly as she brushed her hands off on her dress as if even touching the thugs would dirty them. She noticed another woman had entered the fray, taking another thug by knife point. "It seems the women are not so easy targets now, are they?"

With a final smirk, Corentine released the final drunk and kicked him out of the tavern. She stuffed her knife back in her sheath and returned to her table to continue sulking. She didn't really want to talk to people right now. She only did what she thought was right.

Mulling over his inability to properly fight, of course fate would have a bar fight break out. Aeliel stared into the midst of several women warring against jeering drunk men, wishing he could jump in and help. Fortunately, the women didn't seem to be having too much of a problem dispatching their foes. Aeliel stared some more, realizing that all three women weren't Barahm natives. In fact, one was even wearing a thick coat that signified a Thyellan. Another was a rather beautiful woman with white hair and decked in an even more beautiful dress. Rather strange attire for a fight, but Aeliel noted it didn't hinder her much. Last was a woman who seemed to be enjoying herself in the struggle.

Aeliel back away from the fight into the street again. For some reason, the thought of joining in made him sick to the stomach. Frustrated, he clenched his fists and glared into the tavern. Why was this bothering him so much?

Cielo smiled to the two women who took care of the last two drunks. "I thank you two for your help, my name is Cielo." She said,introducing herself, before bowing to both of them. "I am most grateful for your help taking care of them." She asked.

"It is not a problem. To not aid one who at least appears to be in need is just as bad as attacking said one," Evangeline stated airily, giving the girl a sweeping bow, her long wavy hair tumbling over her shoulders. She straightened herself back up and gave Cielo such a gentle smile. "My name is Evangeline, a priestess from a town in Usvaan," she introduced herself politely. Being a priestess didn't mean much outside of Usvaan, or so she had been told. She was not keen on other cultures which other found odd since she persisted in having peace with every other nation. The woman turned to the blond nearby, expecting an introduction from her as well.

The ashen-dyed hues of Velika's tall structures and buildings, as well as its location on the outskirts of Silar as well as its relative advancement of technology and industrialization compared to its neighbors, always provided Sinclair a feeling of familiarity and comfort-- after all, he had lived there his entire life. The ongoing war between kingdoms outside of Velika's walls stirred only minor disruptions within the community; the most he had seen were a couple of anxious riots that were too small to be worrisome. Despite the fact the sky was obscured by buildings and he could not see the horizon past the vast walls of the city, Sinclair took solace in the fact that he was well-protected and safe. Today, a relatively cool evening air prompted the young man to take a stroll to market and sample the wares and goods that had been shipped in earlier this day.

"'Ay, Sinclair, lad," the gray-haired shopkeeper greeted him with a familiar wave. "Here to buy? Fresh new stock o' everything, plenty for all."

"Maybe," the young man smirked at the shopkeeper, whom he had known for quite a while. His piercing green eyes glanced at the man through the wispy locks of his disheveled, earthy hair that rested on his forehead. Imperially slim and light-skinned, Sinclair took an apple from a stand and left a note on the counter, taking a single crunchy bite out of the fruit before deciding to several more. With a wave over his shoulder he headed back to his home, slinging the bag of apples over his shoulder. The evening had dimmed and faint traces of stars were scattered in the gray sky. The lanterns adorning the streets glowed dimly and warmly, lighting the path Sinclair walked on. Calm and free-minded, Sinclair took another bite of his fruit, before collapsing face-forward on the ground, apple rolling out of his hand.

---

With a groan, Sinclair pushed himself off the ground, rubbing his eye. "Blast..." he muttered, before suddenly looking at his hands caked with dirt. Dirt? He thought the ground of Velika was made of steel...

He bolted upward. His eyes, used to the previous darkness of the environment he was previously in, adjusted slowly to the bright light that was assaulting them from every angle. He whipped his head around, still sitting on dirt, before he realized he was on an elevated piece of land, and around him were wisps of clouds and a strong, pervading gust of wind that shuffled his disheveled hair. As he stared forward, he could make out a large something in front of him. As his eyes focused, he realized he was sitting in front of a large, serpentine creature, its body in a semi-coiled state. Regal, golden scales lined its entire, streamlined body. Sinclair could only stare at this creature in front of him in a sick fusion of awe and terror. He opened his mouth in a shout of surprise, but found he could not speak, nor move. The dragon in front of him opened its eyes, its pupils a piercing green-- the same as his own. It held a majestic air and raised its sharp, angular mouth and roared defiantly. Yet, there was no force or malevolence, but Sinclair heard a baron voice calling to him, it echoed off every fiber of his being.

"Sinclair..."

His name... what was this dragon trying to say. Its voice held a firm, commanding tone, yet gentle at the same time. He was taken aback that it could speak, however.

"Go... find the Seven, and journey with them.... you must..."

Sinclair was still in a state of confusion and shock, but he tried to absorb the knowledge as best he could.

"Just as the walls of this city have protected you... you must protect... everyone else..."

"Go to Barahm... journey to... temple... descendents..."

The dragon's eyes closed, and it let out another roar, and Sinclair felt the ground beneath him give away, and he fell through the vast sky downward, down, down...

He bolted up in the middle of the street.

"Woah there, nelly," the shopkeeper said, bending over his body. "You were just walkin' back to yer home, I presume, and you fell straight on the ground like a drunken troll. I was worried 'ere for ya but ya were just down for a couple of seconds."

Sinclair was drenched in sweat, still recovering from his experience, panting. He started reaching for his fallen apples. "Barahm... I have to go... Barahm..."

The shopkeeper looked confused. "Barahm? That's a fair distance from 'here, but if you want to go, I won't stop ya..."

Moments later, Sinclair was cautiously strolling on the path leading out from the city. He had never taken this path before, the one that lead him past the great walls of the city. His pack was slung over his shoulder hastily and his father's crossbow hung on the other. His waistband held his knife and other supplies and nourishment he needed. He was dressed in light, dark blue clothing reminiscent of decorated, adorned robes, signature of Velkian wear. With one last look of the city behind him, he set foot out of the city he knew like the palm of his hand, out into the unknown.

---

Sinclair stopped and paused. He was tired, that was all he knew. But he had made it. The willingness to push himself forward out of Velika and the drive he held took him to Barahm. The dusty desert town was a far cry from the more modern Velika, but there was bound to be somewhere he could rest. He passed a decorative fountain-- he was tempted to take a sip out of it, but closer observation revealed a bar nearby. He wasn't much of a drinker, but after countless hours of desert walking he took a sigh and strolled toward the door. He was about to open it before it swung abruptly, narrowly missing his face. Two thug-looking men flew out the door, holding their bodies in pain, groaning. It looked like they were forcibly thrown out. Deciding the best thing to do was not to ask, he stepped aside and entered the tavern, taking a good look around.

Within Barahm’s capitol, a library filled with thousands of scrolls and illuminations were shelved in darkness to be kept away from the country’s corrosive elements. All was black save for a small candle that flickered both light and shadows down the shelves. There a figure bowed their head down, deciphering the aged lines of text with a practiced yet slightly weary eye.

I still can’t find that thing about those creatures… The person sighed, the light reflecting off their large and dark eyes. The priests are still keeping that specimen away from me. ‘Protection from the harsh sun oh wise one’ my foot. Ha!

With that bout of sarcasm they returned to their work. However, as time passed the person’s eyes grew heavy with something more than just weariness. As their eyes closed a waft of dry wind snuffed the candle out.

When their eyes opened again it was to a vast and seemingly unending desert. They quickly pulled their hood over their face to shield their eyes, trying to get used to the change from total darkness to complete bright.

Winds passed through the small figure, seeming to howl the person’s name, Isha, as they blew past. The figure had had a dream such as this before, but…

"....journey to....temple....descendants of the seven... Or it will end."

The figure turned to find a tall man in a white cloak, his skin dark but the hair on his head and of his beard as white as his clothes. He raised his hand towards Isha and they felt the strange sensation of a thousand images being fired behind their eyes, scenes of war and death and terrifying things that came from down below… and then along with that faces and a place. A place…

“Go.” The man said in a commanding tone.

With that, Isha fell back into the welcoming darkness.

Prophet Isha? Prophet Isha, awaken!”

“Wahhhh…?” Isha’s eyes blinked, finding the familiar sight of a priest, who sighed in relief.

“Praise the seven. We found you in library we had though you had exhausted yourself again…”

Isha scowled, pushing off the bed and walking towards a wardrobe wear clothes were kept.

“Prophet…?” The priest questioned.


“It was no fainting spell, it was a vision!” Isha exclaimed, finding a traveling cloak. “Have a travel bag and a weeks’ worth of provisions in it prepared. I must be on my way to greet them!”

Isha walked through the streets, which for most children of Barahm it would be a rather daunting task to stroll alone without someone to watch our back. For every devout man that said his prayers every day there would be a sinner ready to slit your throat in a back alley. However, the amulet around her neck protected the girl from any harm. The design named her as under protection of the seven. Even when we begin to feud, old swears and bonds may still hold true.

A small laugh escaped Isha’s mouth. That sounded like a proverb one of the old men at her hermitage would spout. She tugged a little at her traveling bag to check if any pick-pockets had not heeded the amulet’s warning, but thankfully the bag was still full. She kept the hood of her cloak down enough to hide her face but up enough to scan for any foreign-looking faces.

The two women wanted a name from her. But Corentine merely nodded and left the tavern. Her father wouldn't have liked this behavior. Quite frankly, she didn't either. But she couldn't bring herself to act nicely. Not now. She felt lost and had nowhere to go. These women couldn't help her, they couldn't bring her father back, nor could they bring her the man who killed him. The letter didn't say how he died, in fact it didn't even say he died. They reported him as "Missing." With them being so close to the enemy, she doubted he was even alive. In her mind, missing and dead were the same thing.

Well that was awfully rude of the other woman. At least Cielo had the chance to express her thanks for she so bluntly meandered out the door of the tavern. Evangeline decided to take a seat at the table. She was still exhausted from her trek through the desert, and the little tidbit of action she was just apart of didn't help ease that up at all. "I was warned by a strange man I met at a fountain that there were some horrible people in this tavern. I suppose he should have exacted the same warning upon you, albeit you seemed rather capable of defending yourself," Evangeline spoke lightly to the other woman, her voice heavy with weariness. She hadn't felt so tired in a long time, not even after spending three days cramped up in a shrine without food or water. She figured that was probably more bearable thanks to her being in a trance-like state. Now she wished she could enter such a state again until she felt a bit better. Waving a hand daintily in the air, the man tending the bar came to her. A simple request for water was easy enough to fetch. The man returned with a glass of water with several cubes of ice in it. She whispered her thanks as she drank the water at a conservative pace. There was no need to look like a savage even though she was unbelievably thirsty. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and placed the glass gently on the table.

"May I ask what brings you to this desert town? You definitely look like you don't particularly belong here," Evangeline inquired. Looking at the woman's dress, she looked to be about as foreign as one could get. She didn't look like any of the locals who were all dressed in clothing that would help them keep cool in the blazing heat. The priestess's thoughts were scattered as she remembered the feeling in her stomach. It was just as strong as it was by the fountain. What did this mean? She tried not to look bothered by anything, casually picking up her drink and taking a few more sips.

Kaza just finished buying a new pack and a few waterskins at a stall across from the fountain, as well as a package of dried fruit and jerky for the road. He tucked it all inside his pack and slung it over his shoulder, deciding to walk back to the tavern and get a room to relax in. He wasn't paying very much attention, and he nearly ran into a hooded child. He was about to flip the child a coin and walk off, as was his usual response to coming across children running amok in the streets, but something felt different. He almost felt a pull to the child. He stopped, right hand raised, mouth slightly agape. What...?

"Well, I could ask you the same thing, priestess." Cielo said to Evangeline, noting her appearance. "I'm here from Thyella to find both a temple, and six other people." She explained.

"I had to leave for here as quickly as possible, and this was the lightest clothing I had, suitable for travel, which reminds me that I need to find a new change soon..." Cielo said, before noticing she was rambling. "Sorry...anyways, again, thank you for your help back there."

Isha scanned the crowds until she came across a woman who looked very out of place. She had blonde hair and her clothing did not seem to be suited for the environment of the desert.

I need to get a look at her face to make sure. The little prophet thought, making a beeline for Corentine. However before she could she ran into a solid mass that felt like another person. The girl frowned, looking up (curse taller people) and locking eyes with the man. Isha's eyes widened as she felt a tremor go through her entire body. You...