FENRER

Moonlilies floated in the rock ponds in freeflight, open to their namesake's twicefold embrace. In reflection of his own crimson splattered failure, he tread down the dark oak steps, where nary a creak disturbed the quiet hush over the garden of death and life. Near the base of the trunk, the purifier basins before the gate into the unmarked graves, wrapped in beautiful yet tough straps. Each one had a single bell to twinkle in the wind to remind the dead of their peace. He stopped in front of the carved basins full of essence to cleanse the impurity of the soul and flow of magick. He dipped his fingers inside. Dense, but soft, he counted four times, four candles, and four Ancients whose masked likenesses hung over the basin. Four times he ran it over his hands, with the fifth to mark his own soul with a touch to his lips. Magick responded and gave him the strength to move forward.

In the focal center of the runestones for the Ancients, he took a seat in front of the grave tucked into the core of the tree, never impeding on its strength. He brought out the doll he promised to deliver to a sanctuary of peace, for the owner to find their way home. Wind dinged the bells along the graves with no names, a temporary respite for wandering spirits who needed a sense of peace, but with no remaining business to settle before moving on. He placed the doll next to the grave within the heart of the tree. Hands over his brow, he lowered them in front of his eyes before bowing in deference to the Gatekeeper's truth.

Ojain — deliver unto those of the crimson nights as we seek salvation and find peace in your echo. Give us the path of the Traveller, who once flew across space and time. He switched his bow to the runestone with a wyvern who breathed white fire onto the gemstones at the peak of the rock. Evyriaz, guide us to the stars, to home. For it is darkness we are, and darkness we return. He settled his hands between his legs and kept his head lowered, a fleeting hope for a single prayer to be heard on the lips of a child.

"Little Wolf." The familiar voice sent a chill through his spine, and he frowned when Kon came from around the bend of the runestones to take a seat between Ojain and Evyriaz, his tail tucked around his massive paws. Fenrer avoided the gaze of his Aeoniir when he came closer with precise, affirmed movements. "Morning comes soon, and the dead shall find their way, this, I know." A soft expression filled the blank blues. "You need not sit with them through the night, your compassion echoes through."

For what price I paid for my empathy.

Fenrer clasped his hands and held his breath, bringing them to his nose. "I could not deliver them the pain life wrought them. The most I could do is deliver the words." It wedged a rock into his throat when he allowed his exhaustion to sink into his legs. "I'm sorry if I disturbed your hunt across the echo, Kon."

Kon shook his wide head. "You need not apologise, Little Wolf. My duty as your Aeoniir takes precedence over all, for as long as you need me. Your despair. Your pain. I am your guide through it until you no longer need it." He gave a bow, but his size continued to engulf Fenrer in a shadow full of arrows whizzing through war. "You need not call me out loud, I am here because you called nonetheless."

To the Ancients, to deliver the lost souls I cannot help.

"Thank you." Fenrer sighed. "I think I made a mistake."

He raised an eyebrow when a shake overtook Kon's chest. "Oh, Little Wolf," he said with a chuckle to his deep growl. "You are yet young with a whole world to witness — you have plenty of mistakes yet to make. As long as you stay true to yourself, it will be overcome time and time again. Learn." Kon shuffled closer until his muzzle loomed over his head. "You need sleep. You cannot stay awake for the ages you have yet to live."

Fenrer bit on his tongue before a scoff left his lips at his Aeoniir's age-old wisdom. "Little easy for you to say, Kon. You don't need sleep, and I can only imagine the things you've seen as a spirit." On his feet, Kon stepped out of the way. "I shall try, though. If only to get moving." Moons waxed along the grass of the circumference, its silver touch warmed his skin in its promise of flames to come. "Thank you, once more for your counsel." He bowed to his Aeoniir, who shielded him from the wave of flames carried by arrows to strike down giants. He caught Kon going into a circle, and flinched when his tail swatted across his face. It struck no pain into his cheeks, a gentle, but firm reminder when he failed to dodge it.

"Seven Turns you were when I was still able to see the dawn in your eyes," Kon pointed out. "Can I, as a spirit, still think about how you would walk into my tail and pretend to fall over, though I am not as you are? My solidity to this echo comes from you, Little Wolf." A twist folded his muzzle to reveal teeth, but there was a smile instead of a threat. "You remind me that I am still an inherent part of the flow."

Fenrer raised his hands to his lips. "I wasn't pretending..."

Kon shrugged his shoulders with a huff through his snout. "Children... are the hope of us," he whispered. "For those who have walked before, and those that shall walk after." His blank blue gaze studied him. "You need not bow in reverence to me, Fenrer. The only thing I wish for you is to experience your life the way you long for it, a life for you, and those that come after you, to be proud of. Sleep."

Fenrer resisted the urge to bow once more, and waited when Kon dissipated into mist with the call fulfilled to swirl around his being and take to the flow until he was needed once more. A constant presence who carried him through the storm of loss and grief. He forced himself to leave the graves behind, with the doll in the protection of the tree's deep roots. Back in the confines of the shrine, lamps flickered with the flames within. He walked back into the room Auro Tiana gave to him for their temporary use. His own crescent blade sat in the corner, lit by the small candle on the desk. Fresh clothes rested in a basket beside his bed, ready to be worn for the journey ahead. He sat on the mattress and swayed his legs into the squishiest parts. Flat on his back, he laid there and sent a small magelight above his head — his usual tactic for catching the fleeting call of sleep.

It pulsed and breathed, and he timed his own heartbeat with it. Tension crept through his collarbone as he gazed deep into the forest's abyss of his magick. It caught in his throat with old ash, and he found himself drowning in irritation instead of succumbing to his need.

He rolled over onto his stomach and brought the pillow over his head to stifle all his senses. It dug into his cheeks when he stared down the head of the bed, before resting his face into the blankets. Arrows crushed his spine, and he rolled over again and tried to find a comfortable position to lull himself into sleep. A croak sounded from outside, and he wiped his eyes to wait out the storm of his mind. Over, over, and over in the maelstrom, the moment he managed to close his eyes, the morning sun pierced through the flowing curtains.

I suppose a little is better than none. Fenrer sat up and prepared his boots, but stopped when icy wind crawled through the walls. He narrowed his eyes when the presence opened the door. Yuven stood there.

"I'm ready to move," he said, smiling at Yuven's return to a stronger stature. "We are to head for the Draken's Descent to enter Haneka proper..." He faltered at Yuven's silence, but when he touched the aura with his mind, the solidity cracked against his face with more force than a spirit wolf's bushy tail. It was no mere copy of Yuven, but from the way the thoughts twisted and tried to duck behind the pearls of thoughts, Yuven was up to no good.

"Tossed and turned the rest of night, yes?" Yuven questioned. "As usual."

He tested the texture of the pearls, but when it became clear of Yuven's intention, he lunged too late. Yuven traced a circle along the door, where the runes lit up in the wood before closing it on his face. Ice swirled on the other side before he could touch the lock, which cracked with the new growth, keeping him from gripping onto it. Fenrer folded his arms when the icy mist refused to leave. "Yuven, might I remind you that you said you had a certain schedule in mind. If we're to reach Draken's Descent before the fortnight ends—"

"My schedule is already ruined," Yuven complained on the other side. "This is your punishment. I am going to train Adara for today since we are stuck."

"We're not stuck, you—" He gave up when the icy mist stomped away from the door, but the glyph never left the tips of the hinges. He headed for the window to open it, but he sighed when Yuven slammed his foot on the pane out of his spatial distortion. "Really, Yuven?" He scowled and tried to counter the strength of Yuven's magick, but as stubborn as its user, it wedged ice through the weaknesses of the window sill and gave it the strength of the strongest stone. It cracked when he dug his fingers in, but never broke apart to free him from Yuven's confinement. His Oathbound pointed downwards before taking his foot off the ice, distorting and disappearing, with the icy aura leaving with him.

Yes, trapping me in a room will surely get me to sleep. Fenrer let go of the window and rubbed the creasing out of his brow. I should've gone with intolerable. He slumped back into the bed to wait for the crystal magick to dissipate without its user's constant interference, but the longer he waited, the opposite became true. It grew along the window and fogged his view of the waking world. Flames tore at his brow, but he kept his hands folded over his stomach and continued to stare down the ceiling. Pyvansomiir's coils wrapped around the small roof supports in the corners. Onto his stomach once more when his back started to scream with his frustration, he tucked his chin onto the pillow before switching onto his cheek instead.

Well...

Darkness slipped into his vision, inch by inch every time he tried to keep his eyes closed, but the ice continued to crack along the window.

Into darkness, and someone shouted.

In the corner of the flames, women screamed while faceless shadows laughed at the torment they caused.

He ran, ran, and no matter how long he ran, nowhere was safe in the grove once full of the sun — filled with crimson. Arrows struck the dirt and slammed fireballs into the tops of the roof tiles. He took shelter in a crumbled corner as a woman begged for mercy nearby. Ignored in her pleas, her screech shook him to his core as he cuddled into his own legs. Glass broke with someone's grip tight on his arm when a sharp arrow tore his arm to the bone.

No matter how long he screamed for their presence to assure him, they never came back. Giants never tore trees out of the ground, and they crushed their defenses with an ample force meant for kings.

He scrambled out of the blankets and off the pillow to check on the stickiness to his arm. Old, unseen scars as he rubbed it and tried to catch his breath from the nightmare in memorium. His entire body shook as he tried to free himself from the writhing blankets, but the ice had long melted to reveal the beautiful day.

A heavy breath escaped his lips as he brushed his eye of the restless sleep, cross-legged on the mattress to time his rapid heartbeat back into a sense of peace. He dared to open the window, but Yuven's icy mist never struck back. High at the peak of the sky, the sun glowed across the blue sky, with no hint of storm clouds in sight. Noon. I slept... I suppose. He rested his own head against the window to listen to the soft breeze tangle around the steppes to carry the voice of the flow unimpeded. Auras danced on the wind, two distinct, familiar ones which led to out of sight sources. He tucked one arm over the other to support his boiling stomach, trying to keep his eyes open from the flaming dark and screaming death.

The last of the pain left through the tips of his fingers when he shook his hand out. He found himself unable to keep them open to the wondrous light of noonhigh, until someone prodded his shoulder. It stuck to the corners of his eyes and filled his body with rock when he turned to the source, and he missed the joys of noon.

"Usually people lie down when they sleep," Yuven muttered. His crescent blade rested at his side, donned in the gray leather armor of their order.

"You going to keep me here until I sleep properly?" Fenrer questioned and rested his brow on the windowsill. "I'm afraid I have to tell you, once more, that that's not how it works."

"No." Yuven straightened himself out. "I think now is a good time to move on."

Fenrer drove his jaw against itself and lifted himself out of the bed, grabbing his boots once more. "What happened to training Adara?"

"She still struggled with simple primordial shifting, but miraculously, she created a small ball of flames. I'm sure she'll prance about her accomplishment, but she has a long way to go."

As do we.

Yuven left the room, and he got dressed back into his armour, adjusting his straps full of Yuven's medication, never leaving it behind. Enough to last them to Sivaport, but he'd need to see the resident alchemist for more out of the bay of the Hanekan sea, and to the Euros archipelago. Finished with his preparations, he joined Yuven outside the shrine, giving the Auro Priestess a bow of thanks and deference, before handing her a magick crystal for her use — last protection from the Storm Wardens. His gift to make up for the failure.

"Ready?" Adara asked out on the road, with more energy that he found himself lacking.

"We're ready. Let's get to Draken's Descent," Yuven said. "Let's go home."

Home. Always home. Sea to sea.