Ardent_Tears

A Quick Update

Hello Everyone! The release is well underway and I hope you are all enjoying it. If you are and are finding yourself wanting more, you can get the ebook from amazon at the following link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CKM9N76B, or by searching for Ardent Tears on your local Amazon storefront.

I'll also greatly appreciate any ratings/reviews on Amazon or Royal Road and a boost on TopWebFiction.

Lastly, some really exciting news. The Jessica, the narrator for the upcoming Audiobook Release of Ardent Tears started recording earlier this week. You may know her from her work on Marvin Knight's "Paladin of the Sword" or Nathan Thompson's "Downfall and Rise". You can find her website here.

Chapter 15: Pandemonium

Ædarik felt cold from anger and the ebon flow of night as he followed the two shrouded men garbed in thick, black gambeson. He wanted to kill them, to gut them mercilessly for what they did. In the long hours he had waited, listening to the poor girl’s cries, he knew true torment and that was nothing compared to what she had suffered.

If he could, he would go back and beat Lord Feilan within an inch of his life before having him confess all of his crimes. That was, however, beyond him, and it wouldn’t guarantee the safety of the girl or anyone else who was in the same position as her.

Somewhere, Feilan was keeping young girls prisoner so that he could fulfil his twisted desires. Ædarik was sure of it. So he followed the men as they carried the girl away from Castle Draskaan into the village below. The girl was limp in their arms, too tired to struggle. Ædarik kept to the shadows as he stalked them at a distance. It was all he could do to not get caught. Were it not for his Gift, that of Shadows, he would have failed before he even began.

The men were taking the girl towards the nearby village; Lord Feilan was probably using his power and influence to keep them quiet.

This is beyond despicable!

Ædarik’s thoughts of outrage turned towards the east to follow the men as they abandoned the road to the village. His original theory was back on the table as they drifted even further away from the village and on toward the low-lying foothills.

Then they vanished.

The time for stealth was no more.

Ædarik ran after them into a deep gully.

They were nowhere to be seen.

Ædarik hissed. Even in the dark of night and the labyrinth of stone, they shouldn’t have just disappeared. Still, he had come too far to just give up on the girl.

*****

It soon became clear that the gully was not his ally. Throughout his search, he caught himself, not once, but twice on the thorny undergrowth. Each time he drew blood and on the second, he went flying into one of the large rocky structures that lined the gully.

“Fuck!” he cried out as it dug deeply into his back. His eyes opened wide from the sudden jolt of pain.

It was only when the pain subsided that he realised what was staring him in the face; a well-concealed opening in the side of the gully. He struggled up and grabbed his cane, so that he could investigate. This time, he made sure to watch his step as he approached the opening. Had he been less fortunate in his misfortune, it would have taken him at least an hour to find it. Even without the added camouflage, it blended in far too well with its surroundings.

When he pushed the camouflage aside, he immediately realised that it was the entrance to a cave. There was no time to waste. He rushed into the cave with his weighted cane ready for combat. In the distance, he saw the dark forms of the two men carrying the young girl. He charged them.

THWACK!

The head of his cane struck the man on the left, caving in his skull. Before the other one could act, he swung again. This time, the cane struck the man in the throat. He started choking as his windpipe collapsed. Whereas the first man had died instantly, the second took significantly longer to pass into oblivion

Ædarik was breathing heavily. Luck had guided his strikes.

He crouched down to check on the girl. They had dropped her on the ground and she just lay there listlessly with her hands bound behind her back. Ædarik caught a glimpse of the massive scarring on her back as he helped her up. From what he could tell, she was around thirteen or fourteen. At a push, she might have been fifteen, but Ædarik doubted that. When she saw him, panic crept up onto her listless face and she tried to push away.

Not wanting to scare her, Ædarik backed away. “Easy there. I’m not here to hurt you.” Judging from her expression, it wasn’t the best thing for him to say. In his own awkward panic, he stood up and took a couple of steps back with his arm up and on show to show that he was unarmed. She only shrunk further away. “Shit, this isn’t working, is it?”

No response other than tears was given.

“I came here to rescue you. I’m sorry I couldn’t have done it earlier, but I have to save the others. There are others, aren’t there?” The question came filled with anxiety. The possibility that he had delayed too long in rescuing the girl was not lost on him.

She turned pale at the implication that he could have saved her earlier before she nodded hesitantly.

“That’s good. Well, it isn’t, but you get my point. Are they further in?”

“I don’t know,” she said meekly.

“Damn.”

The girl shrunk again from his sudden remark.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m going further in. The exit is that way.” He pointed in the direction he had come from.

“I can’t leave.”

“Sure you can,” he responded incredulously before seeing her bindings. “Oh, I’m sure one of them has the keys.”

Ædarik found a ring of keys on one of the men and then struggled to find the right one. “Every damn time,” he muttered to himself, “Why is it that no one is able to organise their keys properly?” Eventually, he found the right one and he summarily released the girl from her shackles.

“Thank you,” she whispered, still too scared to look him in the eye and flinching every time he got near her.

“You must be cold. Take my jacket and wait outside. If I’m not back by the time the sun is up, go west. You’ll see a village. It should be safe there; I hope. But, whatever you do, don’t go to the castle.”

Ædarik watched her leave before turning to look deeper into the caves. Then he threw up. At twenty years of age, he had taken his first and second life. In those twenty long years, nothing had prepared him for the sensation. Even in his bloodlust, he hadn’t anticipated the weight his actions would hold.

Only by putting up a brave face in front of the girl had he saved himself from showering her in vomit. Disgusted with himself, he wiped away the acrid remains of his dinner from his lip. Then he took hold of his cane and a dagger from one of the men before starting his stalwart march into the caves. His quest continued.

*****

Meanwhile, deeper in the caves, Rowan woke up from a nightmare. Even with her resolve set in steel, she couldn’t stop the nightmares. Not even the comfort of her friends or the fleeting words from Rina would stop them. She lay there in her cot, a cold sweat clinging to her body.

So much had changed in the five years since she had invoked the Goddess’ name. The cell was quieter for one. A year or so after she had arrived, any and all shipments of new arrivals came to an end. As such, there was no one to replace the prisoners who fell to the hammer and accepted the bargain.

To this day, Rowan missed Kiriin dearly. She regretted not trying to do more for her when she had the chance. Even so, she was confident that Kiriin was out there, and that meant that she could still be saved.

Another consequence of the declining population of the cell was that it was also an ageing population. Before too long, it had gotten to the point where it was unusual if you hadn’t hooked up with someone at least once. Rowan was one such person. As were her two friends.

It wasn’t as if she wasn’t interested. She was very interested and she certainly wasn’t lacking for options. Many people considered her to be highly attractive. Well, as much as anyone could be considered attractive in their highly dishevelled circumstances.

She had even been propositioned that night prior. She declined, of course, which resulted in him finding another mate and them having very loud sex in the cot next to hers. In any other situation, she would have considered it, but right now, it was another weapon that could be used against her.

She also had to protect Seres, who was blossoming into a fine young woman. Both of them had matured a lot in five years. In some ways, Seres had overtaken Rowan. However, in a feat that felt almost sacrilegious, Rowan was the taller of the two, inching above Seres by a good four fingers if you ignored her ears.

It made sense, of course, but Rowan was used to being the short one. At least Amran was taller than her, even if only just. Making sure no one made advances on Seres was a challenge, but she found that threatening worked well enough when supplemented by Amran’s watchful eye.

Rowan had also spent much of the five years training her body to use energy more efficiently. It was an arduous task, even with her getting more food to ensure that she didn’t die from the additional torture. It was also a necessary task to make sure that she had enough energy when the time came. She knew that breaking out would take everything she had; maybe more. All the other training she had done was also bound to help. Nothing would stop Rowan from completing her mission.

Then it happened. A small tremor. Nothing major, but enough to terrify anyone who lived underground. The earthquakes were getting more and more frequent. They were also getting stronger on average. Earlier that year, a particularly fierce one caused a cave-in in one of the cells, killing everyone inside. It was one of the few things that Rowan was scared of getting in the way of her plans. Another earthquake like that one could bring it all crashing down. It could…

“Is that you, Rowan?” a quiet voice whispered from a few cots away, interrupting her thoughts.

“Seres? It’s okay. Go back to sleep.”

“Are you sure?” Seres asked with a note of worry.

“Aye,” Rowan responded a little too quickly.

“I wish that sounded convincing,” Seres said glumly. “It’s too late, anyway. There’s no way I can get back to sleep.”

“Don’t be stubborn, Seres. You need all the sleep you can get.”

“Look who’s talking,” she responded dryly.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the cell, Rowan swore she heard Amran mumble, “Pot meet kettle,” in his sleep.

“How about we both try going back to sleep?” Rowan suggested.

“How about you suggest something possible next time?” Seres retorted.

The ground shook again, as if to unintentionally punctuate her point. It was stronger this time. Still not as bad as the worst they had experienced, but that was still not a comforting thought. This time, more people woke up.

“What’s going on?” someone shouted.

“Not again!”

“Why won’t it just stop already?”

“I’m so done with all this crap!”

Everyone was panicking. Understandably so. They all knew it was only a matter of time before disaster struck.

*****

Ædarik felt water splash against his face, the shock granted him the gift of cognisance. His quest had come to a sudden end when he took a wrong turn and walked into what he assumed was a guard room. He was outmatched, outnumbered, and deprived of any chance of surprising him. Now he was their prisoner. A man wearing a lord’s clothing stood before him with a quizzical gaze.

“What do we have here?” the lordly figure asked him. “A lord? Tell me, who are you, and why are you here?”

“Lord Ædarik of House Beltein, son of Lord Edaris Beltain, and I am here to end your disgusting regime.” He tried to spit his words at the man. They lost their impact when he failed to do so.

“Very impressive,” the lord clapped. “Am I supposed to be intimidated?”

“I swear…”

“Stop right there before you say something that will get you hurt. How did you find this place? Most people would have lied already and said they wandered in by accident.”

“Some of your men were gracious enough to lead me here from Lord Feilan’s estates.”

“I see. Well, unfortunately, now that you are here, we can’t exactly let you leave. Not yet, at least.”

“You can’t keep me. My friends know where I am.”

“Doubtful.”

“Well, they know I wouldn’t just disappear.”

“Perhaps not. However, we cannot let you go and reveal our position. As such, we must keep you here until the information you hold is useless. We will, of course, show you hospitality befitting your rank as a young Lord of the March.”

“You know my title?”

“Of course, I do. I am a lord, after all. With that said, I think we are done here. Guards! Take Lord Ædarik here to the guest quarters under close watch. If he needs anything, do what you can to provide. Also, send out a patrol. I fear that Lord Feilan’s foolishness may have allowed one of the weapons to escape.”

“Yessir,” the four guards saluted. Two of them escorted Ædarik and the other two went to investigate, leaving Lord Fein alone to set up his Speaking Crystal.

*****

“HE DID WHAT?” Lord Edaris shouted down the crystal. Sena had brought it to him after Lord Fein contacted the keep with news of the encounter he had just had. She had to be careful not to let her anger arc over to Lord Edaris.

“He found one of the entrances into the caves, Lord Edaris. By following some of my wardens, I believe.” Lord Fein was doing his best to sound calm. That didn’t stop him from sweating profusely. Edaris was not a man to be angered lightly. The first lord who had been assigned to oversee the operation was assassinated by his maid for failing him.

“And how, pray tell, did he manage to discover the wardens and come to the conclusion that he should follow them?”

“My belief is that the fault lies with Lord Feilan, my lord. It seems likely that he bribed the wardens to bring him some of the younger weapons to satiate his appetite. Upon investigating, one of the female prisoners is indeed missing. She will be found. You have my word.”

“Very well. What about my son? How will you deal with him?”

“We are making sure that he doesn’t see the full scope of the operation. For now, we will hold him in the guest quarters. With the earthquakes, I have accelerated our move onto the next phase. Before long, we will be able to release him as the information he holds will be redundant.”

“Understood. Make this right, and the punishment will only fall on Lord Feilan’s shoulders.”

“Yes, my lord. I’ll get rid…” The response was cut short by a loud rumble and a crash. Then it was silent.

“Lord Fein? Answer me, Fein. Dammit.”

Lord Edaris’ face was black with rage. Or was it fear?

*****

The earth roared. Like an explosion, everyone was launched off their feet. Rowan landed with a crash and the ground continued to jolt violently beneath her. It was happening, the strongest quake yet, and its tumultuous rumbling called for catastrophe.

“SERES!” she shouted, trying to be heard above the cacophony of moving stone. It was dizzying beyond compare. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stay still. The ground had made her its plaything, and like a child, it played rough.

Rocks started to fall and the floor cracked. Someone was thrown into the rift before another jolt pushed it closed again. Rowan saw the boy get crushed as someone tried to save them. It was the boy that had propositioned her last night.

For several minutes, pandemonium reigned. The sound of trembling earth was deafening. Illyria was crying out. Countless people had died. Rowan was safe and so was Seres. Amran had shielded her with his body. He had clearly seen better days, but he was standing. Across from them, the gate was broken. Now was the time.

Interlude: Lordly Discoveries

A melancholic lord of perhaps thirty looked down at his indignant son. “No arguments, Ædarik. Until the King decides to extend his protections to the East, you will live with your Aunt and Uncle in the Capital.”

“I don’t wanna,” the boy complained.

“Speak properly, boy. You are a lord, not some uneducated peasant. I will not have my last surviving heir represent our house inadequately with a pauper’s elocution nor will I risk him to poorly veiled incursions by Alaran and Karik.” The lord was growing angry. He didn’t have time to explain things to his son. The attacks had already taken both of his wives, all of his lovers, and every child he had ever sired, bar Ædarik.

“But my friends are here.”

“You can make new friends in Særis.”

“It won’t be the same.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.”

“That’s not an argument. I’m not going. If you want the King’s help, why not just ask him? Then I won’t need to go anywhere.”

“I already have. Countless times. He considered the Ru’eni threat to the Ferran Principality of Llyr to be more important than the plight of his own countrymen. And like him, I will not change my mind on this matter. You leave on the morrow.”

In response, the boy stormed out of the office.

“Lord Edaris?”

The sudden voice snapped the melancholic lord from his recollection of years long since passed. “Yes, Sena?” he asked the maid. She was young, roughly the same age as his son, with long, midnight blue hair kept in a well-maintained and braided bun.

“A report, milord,” the maid responded.

“Very well. Proceed.”

“Your sister sends word regarding your son. He has been performing remarkably well in his studies at the Azure University. He has also been engaging in one of the lordly schools of self-defence. Talanking, with a weighted cane, if my informants are to be believed. And some Telarik fencing for swordplay.”

“Good. It’s about time he learned how to defend himself. Anything else?”

“Yes, milord. Lord Fein wishes to speak with you. Something about moving on to the next phase. I believe he is worried about the continued stability of the caves with the increased seismic activity that has been happening in the area.”

“Of course. I’ll contact him immediately. Please set up the Speaking Crystal and make sure that the room is secured.” It was a simple request that Lord Edaris knew that Sena could complete with ease, but it was necessary. Not everyone in his employ was privy to the operation.

“Right away, milord,” Sena responded before remembering something. “One last thing. It has come to my attention that one of your son’s friends intends to invite him and some others to a party at their family estates.”

“And this matters why?” Edaris asked with a note of confusion.

“The friend in question is the son of Lord Feilan. Lord Feilan is already problematic enough with his eccentricities. We have had to cover up for him on countless occasions. I don’t understand why you have allied yourself with such a man?” The maid posited the question with a look of disgust and the slight crackling of electricity. She couldn’t stand Lord Feilan.

“Because the caves are on his lands and he was easy to manipulate,” Lord Edaris explained. “He wants to be free of the King’s watch, though for considerably less noble reasons than I. We’ll eliminate him when the time comes. Until then, hold your anger. He is useful.”

“Yes, milord,” Sena relented, the sound of electricity snapping in the air becoming notably quieter. “I also believe that Lord Landras, the friend in question, is hoping to set up your son with his younger sister.”

“I’ll speak with Lord Feilan and make sure that he behaves. As for the second point, some harmless fun won’t hurt Ædarik. It might even be a new and valuable experience for him. Is that all you have to report?”

“Yes, milord. Everything else I shall leave here for you to peruse at your leisure.”

“Thank you. If that’s everything, you are dismissed.”

Sena nodded and turned on her heel towards the door. Just before leaving, she looked at Lord Edaris one last time. “Will you be needing my other services later on tonight, milord?”

“Ah. Yes, that would be most appreciated.”

She gave him an excited smile in response and then left.

“I really should reward her more,” he said to himself when she was gone. Like him, she had lost practically everything when Alaran and Karik started attacking the Særis outlands. When he realised his plan, she was one from the first wave of adolescents that he took into his service, and unlike those that followed, she volunteered. The attack had left her broken. Now she had a purpose. Vengeance against the king who had abandoned her and against the countries that had taken everything from her. Edaris had given her that chance.

He knew that she would die for him, even without strange crests that had been given to him in a deal with the Al’duur of Dreis. She loved him and when she reached maturity, she had started offering her body to him. He accepted, though not because he desired her personally. It was more that he desired the sensation such intimacy could give and because they suffered the same loneliness. They were kindred spirits. It also made for a good reward.  She had been exemplary in her services as both a maid and a bodyguard.

*****

Meanwhile, the entire width of the country away, a young lord was roused from the same memory in the middle of a lecture. A piece of chalk had hit him square in the forehead. A squat old man with messy, balding, white hair and a similarly frazzled beard with the faintest remnants of brown glowered at him.

“It would seem that Lord Ædarik is more interested in sniffing butterfly dust than he is learning about the heavenly majesty that is the divine anatomy of our world’s celestial mother, the Goddess. Yes. Yes. Disappointing. Mother knows when you are being naughty. That is why She has two eyes and why they are never closed at the same time. Except for that one time, yes.”

“Um, Professor?” another student interrupted, “I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.”

“Who said that? Lord Devlin? Wait, no, that’s Lady Deilin now. Ah! I see. It was Miss Linnet. Did someone make you an expert on Divine Anatomy while I was away on my exhibition? No? Then don’t interrupt me unless I ask you to. Questions are fine.”

Lord Ædarik sighed. He hadn’t planned on spending his afternoon in one of the lectures given by the infamous Dori Baille, Scholar of Divine Anatomy and certified nutcase. He was a genius in his field if you believed what he was saying and he didn’t make that easy. He was almost impossible to follow at the best of times and he had a creepy fascination with the Goddess’ hair, which was apparently, according to his most recent exhibition, green.

Ædarik would have much rather gone to a lecture by Professor Nolus on Tactics Against an Awakened Force or Traveller Monk Vas’ class on Kairosi Philosophy. Instead, he had been dragged along by Landras who seemed particularly interested in the subject at hand. Professor Dori was spouting his theory on the sudden increase of seismic activity and the strange events in the summer of five years prior.

“You see, it is my belief that someone called upon the Goddess’ ire. The events of five years ago scream of a threefold Resonance between the Goddess, Illyria, and the Heart of the Sun.

“Did you not see Her eyes darken? Or did you not recognise how the weather was, especially that year? Illyria shook and continues to shake even now. We had a catastrophic earthquake not two days ago and the Chain of Fire is, well, it’s on fire. The Goddess is angry and Her family shares in Her fury.

“How many people have died? The reports from the first few months show that numbers rose to the tens of thousands and that is in our fair nation and Llen Færa alone. Yes, most tragic. I can’t even fathom the numbers worldwide. This is why, if my theory is true, which I know it is, you should never call upon the Goddess’ True Name if you don’t truly mean to and don’t understand the consequences.

“Wait! I said that wrong. The validity of my theory should have no bearing on whether or not you should follow my warning. Follow it or beware. Yes. Beware. Did I do a good job, Mother? Yes, thank you.”

The lecture continued on in much the same way. If Professor Baille utilised his uncanny ability to belabour on anything other than his subject of choice, politicians would have hired him years ago to filibuster for days on end. When it was over, Ædarik rushed out into the grand halls of the Azure University, leaving his friends behind. He could finally relax his brain. There was no blocking out Professor Baille for extended periods of time and listening to him was an exercise in and of itself.

“Arik!” Landras shouted after him from the lecture theatre, “Wait up.”

“Why did you make me attend that lecture, Landras?” Ædarik called back.

“Because it’s interesting and has had a massive impact on us northern families,” Landras responded while stumbling out of the room, their other friends following up behind.

“You call that interesting?” Davra, the one commoner of the group asked.

“You can’t deny that he has a somewhat eccentric charm,” Lady Deilin remarked, shifting the hem of her dress awkwardly. She still wasn’t quite used to wearing the garment, but she has started smiling a lot more ever since her parents had come to terms with who she was.

“Is that what you call it?” Ædarik asked wryly.

“What? I’m just saying that a man who understands and acts on his passions is really attractive. If it isn’t dangerous or hurtful to others, that is.”

“Dev knows what’s up,” Landras laughed. Deilan shrunk slightly at the use of her old nickname. It hurt more coming from a friend. Everyone glared at him until he realised his mistake. “Oh, sorry, Deilan. I’m still not used to all this,” he apologised awkwardly, motioning towards her with his hands waving up and down her body. It served to only make her more uncomfortable.

“Perhaps don’t do that, Landras,” Ædarik said firmly.

“Thank you, Arik,” Deilan smiled meekly. It was an odd sight to see. She was the tallest member of the group and before she had always expressed herself with an air of confidence. However, when she told everyone about who she really was inside, she admitted that she had just been acting in the way she thought people expected her to act, when in reality it was a lie that she had been telling herself and everyone else.

“Have you started your Hormonal Resonance Therapy yet?” Alena, the younger Ferran girl of the group asked hesitantly.

“Not yet. It’s incredibly expensive and the number of doctors with the correct Gift that are good enough are few and far between. For now, I need to make do with Alchemist synthesised hormones.”

“That’s great,” Landras interjected, “but before we go any further with that conversation, I’d like to invite you all to a party. It’s my sister’s seventeenth birthday and I have to go, but it will be so boring without any of my best friends.” He gave them a massive smile. He was absolutely awful at being sincere at times.

“Where is it?” Ædarik asked. “Somewhere in the city?”

“Noo no no no no. At our family estates. You’ll all be honoured guests, of course. Even you, Davra. I don’t care if you are technically a commoner. Rank has no meaning here. And it’s not like you’re a peasant. Come on, I’ll even buy you a dress. Any one that you want. We can make a trip out of it. All of us.”

Ædarik had some sneaking suspicions as to why Landras was willing to go to such potential expenses for Davra, but he kept his mouth shut. He wasn’t about to ruin his friend’s chances by exposing his awkward attempts at courting. Davra didn’t seem to mind, thankfully. In fact, when the time came for them to go shopping, she called his bluff and ordered the most expensive dress she could find that matched her tastes.

*****

A month later, the five of them were in a carriage en route to Landras’ family estates. They hadn’t anticipated that the journey would take quite so long. Originally, they were going to take a ship for the entire journey.

However, that plan came to an end around halfway, just before the Straights of Fire between the Isle of Llen Færa and the western coast of Særis. They ran afoul of a rogue wave, driving them towards land. The ship survived, but the damage to the mast was beyond what could be fixed at sea or in any meaningful amount of time. Fortunately, they had left with time to spare, allowing them to take the rest of the journey by carriage. It wasn’t quite as glamorous, but it was functional. It might have even been picturesque if it wasn’t for Landras’ complaints.

“How much longer, driver?” he asked through the window.

“We should be there by tonight’s eve, milord,” the driver answered quickly.

“Evening? It’s already been a week. You were supposed to be the fastest coach driver in port.”

“I’m trying, milord, but I can only push the Belass so far.”

“Fine! Just know that I won’t be tipping you, if we’re late.”

“Most understandable, milord…” Before he could finish, Landras closed the window in his face.

“You shouldn’t be so rude, Landras,” Alena scolded him timidly.

“We should have arrived days ago,” he complained.

“Considering the sea route, I doubt it would have been that much shorter,” Deilin opined.

“You don’t know that.”

“This route is like a third of the distance from the point where we landed,” she pointed out.

“But ships are fast.”

“Not that fast.”

“Well, at least, it was comfier.” He just wasn’t letting it rest.

“Enough, Landras. You’re just making the trip feel longer with all this complaining,” Davra finally interjected.

“Fine!” he harrumphed, finally shutting up. The rest of the trip was rather uneventful. Which is to say, the entirety of the land trip was uneventful. Landras just liked to complain when things didn’t go his way.

When they finally pulled up, they were greeted by a towering and incredibly imposing castle with a depressing lack of colour. The intimidating form of the castle wasn’t helped by its location on top of a rather large hill. To celebrate the return of Lord Landras, they launched a boulder from one of their trebuchets into the nearby fjord, likely terrifying everyone in the village below.

“Your family certainly has a unique sense of style, Landras,” Ædarik remarked.

“I couldn’t have said it finer myself, Arik. I’ve missed this. My father let me use the trebuchet all the time before he sent me to get an education in the capital.”

“That’s not very… ah, responsible,” Alena said quietly, her ears lowered and her tail still.

“What was that, Alena?” Landras asked.

“Nothing.” He failed to notice how intimidated she was by everything.

Deilin put a comforting hand on her shoulder and smiled. “It’s okay, Alena. We’ll go in together.”

Alena smiled back nervously.

“Shall we, Landras?” Davra prodded.

“Yes, of course. Where are my manners? Right this way, esteemed guests of mine.”

“Stop being needlessly dramatic,” Ædarik laughed.

Landras guided them towards the entrance to the main keep where an army of servants awaited them. The maids and manservants whirled into action as they approached, taking hold of their belongings and taking note of who everything belonged to. Then the head butler took charge and led them into the keep.

As they got closer, it became clear that the walls weren’t plain stone as Ædarik had believed from further away. Instead, they were painted a deep purple that was reminiscent of some of the star clusters in the night sky. It was an interesting choice for a castle, but who was Ædarik to judge?

If it was meant to intimidate, it was certainly doing its job. The inside of the keep was somewhat brighter. Once you got past the first portcullis, the entryway full of murderholes, and the second portcullis into the actual entry hall which was much larger than would be typical of a castle very clearly designed with war in mind, that is. It spoke of conflicting extravagances.

“I will take you to your rooms post haste, my lords and ladies. The maids have already drawn private baths for each of you. When you are ready, I will show you to the dining room where you will sup with Lord Feilan and Lady Larissa.

“Lady Ashlin will also be in attendance. Consider yourselves privileged to be meeting her before her formal debut. If you have any requirements, feel free to ask me or any of the maids if they are not clearly in the middle of a task.” The butler spoke with an old measured diction, as if he had practised elocution since he was just a babe.

Each of them was given their own luxuriously decorated rooms with all the amenities they could ask for. As promised, they were provided with full baths and they were all offered assistance with bathing, grooming, and make-up, if they so desired. Ædarik politely declined, though he was sure some of his friends would accept.

*****

Sometime later, they all reconvened in the main entry of the keep, waiting on Landras so that they could be shown to dinner.

“He’s taking his sweet time,” Davra complained. “I could eat a horse.”

“That’s a colourful way of saying you’re hungry, Davra,” Deilin giggled.

“It’s the truth. He spent all that time complaining and now he’s making us wait.”

“I’m sure he’ll be here soon,” Ædarik reassured her. “He probably spent too long in the bath.”

They waited for five more minutes. Then ten. It was fifteen minutes when Landras finally put in an appearance.

“Sorry, I’m late,” he apologised. “That bath was simply divine and I had so much grooming to do.”

Everyone stared at him. They too had done some much-needed grooming and the girls had also had their make-up done. Yet none of them had taken anywhere near as long. He didn’t even look like he’d done much more than shave and slightly style his hair.

He threw up his arms in response to their gazes. “What more do you want from me?”

They didn’t have anything to say to that.

Seeing that their conversation was over, the head butler guided them down a long corridor and into the family’s more intimate dining room in the private wing of the castle. They were greeted at the door by Lord Feilan personally. It was Ædarik’s first time seeing the man and he was not what he expected.

Before him was a late middle-aged man, a similar age to his father, with dark green eyes and a face like a raven, his hair being a fitting charcoal black. Somewhat strikingly, he also sported a three-peak chinstrap and an immaculate moustache. He also seemed to share little in terms of looks with his only son with the exception of general build and hair colour. Apart from that, it seemed like Landras favoured his mother.

Lady Larissa greeted them from her seat. “My apologies,” she said, “I would stand, but I was unfortunately injured in a horse riding accident some years ago and too much movement causes me great pain.”

“Perfectly understandable, Your Grace,” Ædarik responded politely.

“Larissa is fine. You are guests here, after all.”

“Likewise, feel free to call me Feilan. If you must use honorifics, lord is fine. Now please be seated. My daughter will arrive shortly. I’m told she is nervous about meeting so many new people at once.”

“Isn’t it a bit late for her to be shy of a few new people, Lord Feilan?” Davra asked. “Her party and debut is in just a couple of days.”

“Exactly,” Feilan guffawed. “I said the exact same thing to her this morning.”

“Yes, dear,” Larissa chided. “Now let us drink while we wait.”

On her signal, everyone was served a beverage of their liking. They didn’t need to ask; the drinks had already been individually prepared.

“Sorry, I went and told them your favourites in advance,” Landras admitted.

“Of course, you would,” Ædarik laughed.

They engaged in casual conversation while they waited for Ashlin to arrive. Thankfully, they didn’t need to wait too much longer as the door opened in just under five minutes and she was introduced to the room. She surprised Ædarik even more than Lord Feilan had. Her frame was slender, almost too slender, and her skin had a slight touch of bronze.

Ædarik blushed slightly as his eyes fell on the petite black dress she was wearing. In a court setting, it would have been seen as scandalous, despite being perfectly modest. It also complimented her most striking features perfectly. Such features came in the form of her long, perfectly straight, magenta hair and rose-coloured eyes.

The colours were rare. Exceptionally so, but that was par for the course for the nobility. What really made it strange, however, was the fact that no one else in her family bore traits with even a semblance of similarity. Even the texture of her hair was different. The more Ædarik looked, the more differences he noticed. He didn’t even realise he was staring when Davra elbowed him in the side.

Ashlin curtsied shyly to everyone, trying to make eye contact with everyone but Ædarik. An odd gesture, but he paid it no mind. Instead, he was distracted by Landras kicking him underneath the table and winking at him.

Not wanting to be caught in whatever he was trying to insinuate, he turned to Ashlin. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Ashlin,” he said, standing up and taking a bow. “I must say that you look beautiful beyond compare.”

They weren’t the words he would typically use to describe her. They weren’t entirely contrary to his opinion of her looks either. It was more that he felt like ‘pretty’ described her better; striking also. However, ‘beautiful’ had a much more regal sound to it and compliments never hurt anyone.

He was not expecting Ashlin to blush quite as much as she did. “Th-thank you, milord,” she stammered while trying to curtsy again.

Seeing the exchange, Deilin placed the middle knuckle of her index finger to her forehead in a rather unladylike manner while Davra laughed under her breath and Alena’s tail swished back and forth. All three of them read between the lines that Ædarik was missing.

“Quit standing there, dear sister. We’ve been waiting forever. Surely our guests are getting hungry,” Landras remarked. The irony of his statement was lost on no one.

*****

The first night at Castle Draskaan was rough despite all the comforts they were offered. Lesser earthquakes disrupted Ædarik’s sleep multiple times. By the time morning came, he was starting to realise Landras’ fascination with Professor Baille’s lecture. At breakfast, it became clear that everyone had had similar experiences and were coming to the same conclusion as he was.

“My apologies, for the restless night,” Lord Feilan apologised solemnly. “The earthquakes have been coming more and more frequently with each passing week. Thankfully, they are too weak to do any real damage to anything other than a good night’s rest.”

“That’s the truth if ever I’ve heard it,” Landras yawned.

Thankfully, the next night was notably quieter, allowing them to be fully rested for the party the following evening. The preparations were long and arduous as everyone wanted to look their best. Everyone had at least a little make-up applied, even Ædarik, who usually avoided it.

Of course, the girls went above and beyond. They were, after all, proud young ladies of the Azure and Ferran Courts. And Davra, who was a special case. However, as they only wanted to show up the other guests and not the leading lady, they offered to help introduce Lady Ashlin to the latest fashions from the capital so that she could shine brightest of all. She awkwardly accepted their kind offer and they worked their magic.

While they waited for Lady Ashlin to be ready and for the ladies in their company to make their own appearances, Ædarik and Landra waited in the great hall in a quiet corner where they could talk alone before mingling with the other guests.

“So…” Landras started awkwardly.

Ædarik looked at him quizzically. “Yes?”

“What do you think of my sister? She’s a real beauty isn’t she?”

“She is extremely pretty, yes,” Ædarik admitted.

“I was hoping you would say that.” Landras sighed in relief. “Would you perhaps consider courting her?”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, she is about to become the most eligible bachelorette in the north.”

“Is that really how you want to be describing your own little sister?” Ædarik asked somewhat uncomfortably.

“Ignore that. Listen, Arik. She has a massive crush on you and I’d much rather call you brother than some random lord from a lesser noble family.”

Ædarik was no stranger to people finding him attractive, but this was unexpected. “How? We’ve only just met.”

“I may have told her about you in the past. She’s a romantic, waiting for someone to sweep her off of her feet.”

“And I’m that person? How much of what you told her was true?”

“Enough. Trust me.”

“I trust you as far as I could throw you.”

“That hurts,” Landras said with mock objection.

“Deal with it. Did you not think of telling her that sometimes it’s better to take the initiative when it comes to love?”

“When did you become such an expert? That might work with peasants and commoners, but the courts have certain protocols. A lady courting a lord is practically unheard of.”

“Are you still bitter that Lady Amalandis confessed to you before you could work up the courage? At this rate, the same thing will happen with Davra.”

“You think she likes me?”

“Goddess knows. I’m just saying that her confessing is more likely than you even considering it in earnest.”

“I’m getting better.”

“Sure you are. Hang on. I think the ladies just walked in.”

Right on schedule, their three female friends walked in, looking absolutely stunning. Deilin stood in the middle, flanked on both sides by Alena and Davra. She wore a deep, sea-blue dress that grew lighter and lighter the closer it got to the ruffled hem, giving the impression of rolling waves as she walked. It paired nicely with a dark brown wig that she wore down with several elaborately braided loops. She wasn’t quite comfortable with her natural hair yet as it was still on the short side and she yearned for long graceful locks.

To Deilin’s left, the considerably shorter, doll-like Alena smiled with a confidence that neither lord was used to seeing. Her long tawny brown hair was woven into a waterfall of curls and her light green eyes were lined in an alluring black with a touch of a blush on her pale olive cheeks.

Her blood-red dress hugged her petite form closely. Similarly to Deilin’s dress, it had a ruffled skirt, though with less body and an opening on the side to reveal her leg. The dress also featured a rather attractive bodice that led into a particularly daring cut for the bust. Of course, it was also modified to allow for her tail to be free.

Last but not least, there was Davra, who had emptied Landras’ coffers a month ago to buy the dress that she now wore. For the cost, it was deceptively simple. It blushed gently like a ripened peach and the fabric flowed freely from the waist down where it was caught by a woven gold belt.

The fine straps rested delicately on her shoulders and her ample curves filled out the bust and hips of the dress, only adding to its graceful form. To compliment the dress, she wore her hair in a loose, wavy ponytail, letting her golden locks do all the talking. From across the dance floor, she gave her lordly friends a sly wink from her wing-lined eye.

“Breathe, Landras,” Ædarik cautioned his friend after they saw the gesture. “Breathe.”

“I’m fine, Arik. I think I just took an arrow to the heart.”

“Just ask her already. I thought it was obvious before, but this is killing me.”

“I can do it. I can.”

“Good luck.”

“Later though, when the party is in full swing. I think I’ll need some liquid confidence first. Let’s go greet the ladies and mingle.”

“Sure thing.”

For a good while, they mingled. And danced for a good hour while they waited for Lady Ashlin to put in an appearance. Ædarik danced with all three of his friends in that time along with a few other ladies of the court. He even danced with a shy young lord of eighteen or so years of age. Landras had been significantly less adventurous, either due to his lack of confidence or his focus. When he finally got around to dancing with her, it ended with fleeing from the room and her being rather taken aback. Ædarik was about to go after him when the moment they had all been waiting for arrived.

A herald entered the room accompanied by the rolling of a drum. When the drum stopped, he spoke. “Introducing Her Grace, Lady Ashlin Mariel Eladris of House Takiir, most illustrious daughter of Lord Feilan Eldras Alarik Tenten and Lady Larissa Meiliin Rua Ken of House Takiir.”

When he finished his announcement, the drums started again as he made way for Ashlin. Ædarik’s jaw dropped when he saw her. She glowed. She actually glowed. Somehow the maids and his friends had figured out a way to make her positively radiant. Her face was like a diamond in a sea of brilliant magenta. The dress was equally stunning. The deep purple was the same colour as the castle walls, only more vibrant and featuring a swirling galaxy and colourful nebulae. Like her face, the strategically placed crystalline star clusters glistened with every step, changing colours as they moved. Ædarik was not expecting that.

“Wow,” Alena said out of nowhere, stepping in beside him. “I knew she was going to be stunning, but this is something else.”

“Alena! When did you get there?”

“I was nearby when I saw you gawking, so I walked over. You should be careful. If I was standing in front of you, your jaw would have hit me on the head.” She was smiling sardonically at him, her tail swishing mischievously behind her.

“What’s gotten into you, Alena? You’re acting differently.”

“No, I’m not. This is how I always act at parties. It’s not my fault you’ve never seen me at one before. I’m like this back at home, as well.”

“Fair enough.” There wasn’t much else he could say to that. “Would you like another dance? I think I could do with a distraction.”

“I would love to dance, Lord Ædarik,” she smiled winsomely. “Thank you.”

He promised himself that he would be better prepared next time.

After an hour of mingling, Ashlin approached Ædarik, having just finished talking to Deilin, Davra, and Alena. She curtsied slightly and he bowed, making sure to go lower than she did, even if only slightly. It was her party, after all. “I’m honoured that you have found the time to speak with me, Lady Ashlin. I do apologise as it seems that your brother vanished just before your arrival and he is yet to return.”

“There is no need to apologise, Lord Ædarik. If anything, I should be the one to apologise for the untoward suggestion that I am about to make.”

“Oh?”

“If I may be so bold to ask, would you mind joining me on the dance floor?” She looked at him with the sincere, hopeful eyes of a young woman in love and it made his heart skip a beat.

I was not prepared for this.

“It would be my pleasure, Lady Ashlin. And if you wouldn’t mind, would you address me as Arik? It is what my friends call me.”

The result of his response seemed to almost occur faster than he could give it. Ashlin’s face immediately brightened and she was practically jumping with joy, her hands in his. “Yes, of course, Lord Arik.”

The couple drew countless eyes, not just because of the pairing, but the fact that it was Ashlin’s debut dance. It wasn’t anything flashy, nor was it close to the best dance of the night, but it held a profound meaning for the young bachelorette. What it meant for Lord Ædarik, he wasn’t yet sure, though he knew that Ashlin had touched his heart in some small way. The one thing he was sure of, however, was that Lord Feilan had been absent for the entirety of the dance.

*****

Lord Feilan never returned to the party and as the night drew on, Ædarik found himself in desperate need of the bathroom, having drunk a fair bit. On his way back from relieving himself, he realised that he had accidentally done so in the private lavatory as opposed to the guest ones. He assumed it wouldn’t matter when a noise from deeper within the wing drew his attention. Lacking the inhibitions to warn against investigating further, he wandered in towards the sound. He did his best impression of what he believed sneaking should be like in his inebriated state. Miraculously, he didn’t get caught. Or maybe not. There was a disturbing lack of servants in the wing.

The noise was getting louder the closer he got. He barely realised that he was holding his breath. “You weren’t seen, were you?” a voice asked from a nearby room. Ædarik immediately sobered up and retreated into the shadows. For the first time in his life, he was actually finding a use for his Gift. He listened closer. He could hear a girl struggling in the room.

“Of course not, milord. We made sure she was silent for the entirety of the way here, as well.” Ædarik didn’t recognise the voice that was speaking. He did, however, recognise the voice that responded and his heart sank.

“Excellent. And Lord Fein is none the wiser?” It was Lord Feilan.

“He hasn’t indicated anything to the contrary, milord.”

“Absolutely capital. I should have you men rewarded. Perhaps you would like to partake in one of the girls?” Ædarik had to swallow the vomit from hearing the suggestion. He tried to shut out everything. He heard everything. He cursed himself for being unable to act. He wouldn’t let that girl go back to whatever hell she had come from.

*****

“Lord Edaris!” Sena called out to her master, word having just arrived from Castle Draskaan. “Lord Ædarik disappeared during Lady Ashlin Takiir’s party.”

“Fuck! Gods be damned, what was Feilan doing at the time?”

“He refused to answer, milord.”

“That raven-faced bastard! I swear, if he was indulging in his twisted perversions instead of keeping my son safe, I’ll castrate him myself.”

“I’ll make sure to blunt the knife for you, milord.”

*****

When the men left with the girl, Ædarik followed. Wherever they were going, there would be more like her. He would rescue her and then he would rescue the others.

Chapter 14: The Plan

The caves rumbled slightly as another distant earthquake reverberated across the land. They were increasing ever so slightly in frequency with each passing month. It wasn’t quite at a rate where everyone had noticed. At the same time, it was easy to recognise those who had. They were ever so slightly more fearful than the others. It was almost as if they were asking themselves what would happen when the interval between quakes could be measured in hours or perhaps even minutes.

That isn’t to say that everyone else wasn't also frightened. They most certainly were, even the guards trembled with the earth. The threat of a cave-in was a subterranean nightmare, after all. Rowan was less concerned, however, as the tremors had given her the very first foundations of her escape plan. Earlier in the year, an earthquake closer to home interfered with the heat-stealing Resonance Array attached to the gate of their cell. It was only for a few seconds, but it was enough to show Rowan what was possible.

It was then that she started formulating her plan. Alas, it didn’t take long for her to hit a fair few roadblocks, most notably with finding accomplices. Trusting people in this place was no easy task, especially as the kind of people that were easy to trust tended to also be the ones who broke first. It didn’t help that they had stopped bringing in new shipments, thus depriving Rowan of potential allies that she could have saved with a spark of hope. At the same time, she was glad that the number of people that she needed to save wasn’t increasing any further. ‘Twas a small comfort in the dank caves.

Alas, Rowan was forced to conclude that finding people she could trust from the people who hadn’t been broken yet was not going to be easy. The main challenge came from knowing that she would need to keep everyone she confided in from breaking. Letting that happen would likely ruin everything and put everyone at risk.

As such, she marked the search for accomplices as a task for the future when she had a more substantial plan. That way, she would have more time to vet potential allies whilst also ensuring she had something they could cling to. All she had right now was an idea and confidence in what she had seen.

In the meantime, she shifted her focus to a different roadblock with regard to her lack of any potential escape routes. Initially, she worked on memorising the few routes that she was made to follow on a regular basis, be it to the education chambers, the exercise cavern, or the torture room. She mourned the loss of Kiriin every day. Together, they would have been able to pool their limited resources and understanding. Maybe then, Kiriin would have been strong enough to resist Lord Fein.

Alas, such fortune was rare in these caves. Proof of that could be seen in the disproportionate rise of young girls falling to the dark magic of their scars. The guards were surprisingly hush about whatever it was that was going on behind the scenes. Rowan had expected them to at least gloat about it. They usually did whenever someone of note ended up giving in. Still, even in their silence, rumours of what was happening spread like wildfire.

All the victims had been from other cells, so it all felt so distant. In a way, that made it even more horrifying, especially as there was barely anything that Rowan could do about it. She lacked the means to recognise the suffering they were being forced to endure despite the very idea of it terrifying her.

Knowing that she couldn’t help them alone, she turned to Amran for aid. He was an Empath, so maybe, just maybe, he’d see something that she could not. Every so often, he would point someone out and Rowan would offer them a few comforting words. It didn’t always work, but it was better than nothing. That’s what Rowan thought, at least.

After a year or so of doing the bare minimum, however, it was becoming clear that all her attempts at reaching out to people had ended in futility. She was on the verge of giving up when she saw someone on the brink. If Rowan did nothing, she’d be a pawn of the Good Lords within the hour. To make matters worse, the girl seemed to be at a similar age to what Anri would have been.

Rowan couldn’t give up when someone was so clearly in need, though she’d need to approach with care. One wrong move could push the girl over the edge rather than pull her back as Rowan intended. Fortunately, both of them had been assigned to the labyrinth that afternoon; it was one of the few places you could talk to someone without any risk of being seen or overheard by the guards. That isn’t to say there wouldn’t be any risk involved. Risk was a natural part of life and the existence of loyalists only added to it. Furthermore, there was also the added challenge of finding the girl before it was too late.

The first few runs of the labyrinth ended in failure. With each attempt, Rowan’s anxiety levels rose and they spiked when she saw a guard make a threatening signal to someone in the group. If Rowan read the sign correctly, she could not fail again.

Deep breath, Rowan. Focus!

After taking a moment to centre herself, Rowan stepped into the labyrinth, her senses peeled.

Seconds later, she was running as fast as her legs would safely take her. She found the icon that she was tasked with finding by the taskmaster first. It was mostly luck that led her to the icon so quickly; they were scattered throughout the labyrinth in between runs as the people who failed or finished last were punished.

Ideally, Rowan would have had her luck direct her to the girl rather than the icon, but this way, she at least had one less thing to worry about.

Alas, the search for her true objective was not without incident. She encountered a few individuals who still hadn’t found an icon of their own. Seeing that she had one and that they outnumbered her, they charged.

It wasn’t exactly surprising. These activities were no-holds barred, and the taskmaster encouraged foul play. Of course, even if they succeeded in taking Rowan down, they would immediately turn on each other. Unfortunately for them, however, they wouldn’t even get that far.

Rowan did not look back.

As the search continued, Rowan found a few more icons waiting to be claimed. Then finally she found the one the guard had signalled and he was staring the girl she was looking for down with malicious intent.

Rowan leapt into action and the potential assailant’s head crashed against the rough stone walls of the labyrinth with a crack as Rowan drove her foot into his face with incredible force.

When he dropped, Rowan turned to face the girl with her hands raised in an attempt to appear less threatening.

“It’s okay,” Rowan said softly, sympathising with the girl’s fear, “I’m here to help.”

“Y-y-you k-killed him,” she stammered.

With her arms still raised, Rowan kneeled beside the prisoner that she was guessing to be a loyalist, and with her left hand, she slowly lowered it to check his pulse. “He’s still alive,” Rowan said, her tone unchanging, “and he was going to attack you.”

Rowan wasn’t being entirely honest with her. His heart was still beating, but with an injury like that, he wasn’t long for the world. Part of her regretted not holding back just a little bit, but you had to be careful with the loyalists, especially the ones that were used as muscle as they were, more often than not, Awakened. She just couldn’t risk it, not at a time like this.

“How do I know you won’t also attack me?” the girl replied, her voice dripping with fear.

“You don’t,” Rowan answered truthfully, “but I’d be a pretty lousy assailant if that was my intent. Which is why I intend to do the complete opposite.”

“Why?”

“Because you remind me of someone I used to know who was also on the brink. I failed her. If I can help you now, I hope to at least do right by her memory.”

“But things don’t work like that down here!” the girl protested.

“According to whom? Our captors? I have no intention of playing their game. I’m Rowan, by the way.”

The girl stared at her incredulously.

“You don’t need to tell me your name, by the way. I just thought you wouldn’t want help from a complete stranger.”

“Yet here you are offering to help a complete stranger who might not even need or deserve your aid?”

“The fact you added that second bit is a clear sign that you do need it. I’m not here to judge. I’m just here to let you know that you aren’t alone.”

“Do you mean it?

“Yes.”

The girl sighed and Rowan saw the fire in her eyes.

“I’m Maro,” she said.

*****

Over the next few months, Rowan spoke to Maro more and more, always in short bursts within the labyrinth. It took a while for Maro to open up. She had been through a lot and was newly Awakened. Rowan was careful to not push her too far, especially in those early days.

Before too long, however, Maro started offering little bits about herself. At first, it was mostly just her reminiscing about life in a small mountain village in Særis that had been taken from her. Eventually, however, she revealed her Gift, and Rowan could barely believe her ears. Maro was a Wayfarer. With some effort, she could memorise any road she travelled.

Furthermore, Maro didn’t just reveal her Gift, but the truth behind the rumours. Rowan could see the shame and the guilt in Maro’s eyes as she explained what happened.

“They took me while I was sleeping… I woke up, blindfolded, to a cold breeze and bird song… A branch snapped beneath their feet… I was thrown into a room… He overpowered me…”

There was something primal and uncomfortably familiar about Maro’s pain that was impossible to ignore. For a brief few moments, Maro’s account brought back memories of the incident with Bragi where the unthinkable almost happened. It wasn’t the exact same experience as what had happened to Maro, but it could have been extremely close if Rowan had frozen up in that moment.

Rowan’s focus soon returned to Maro as her retelling came to an end. She cursed herself for not paying better attention, or more accurately, the right kind of attention. There was more to the account than just sharing, but Rowan couldn’t quite grasp the meaning between the lines. It wasn’t until later that night, after hours of agonising over it, that things finally clicked.

Maro had been outside and she was a Wayfarer.

*****

“We have a way out!” Rowan exclaimed quietly to Seres and Amran.

“Calm down, Rowan,” Amran whispered. “Take a breath and start from the beginning.”

“Maro, the girl I’ve been talking to has been outside.”

“That’s great!” Seres said a little bit too loudly.

“Do you trust her?” Amran asked.

“At least as much as she trusts me,” Rowan nodded.

“I hope that’s not your naivete speaking.”

“She trusted me enough to tell me what happened to her, and she’s done nothing to make me doubt her.”

“If Rowan trusts her, so do I,” Seres added adamantly.

“Then I’ll question you no more on the matter,” Amran replied. “Just be careful.”

*****

Over the next year, Rowan solidified her plan after ensuring Maro’s loyalty and friendship. With her help, Rowan had a rough idea of how to escape the caves should the chance arise. They had also started networking to get an idea of where the other cells were in relation to the exercise cavern.

It wasn’t a perfect plan. Especially with them relying on the earthquakes as the escape catalyst, but it was enough to give hope to those in the know.

Now all they had to do was wait.

Interlude: Broken Silver

Agony. That is what Kiriin felt as her torturer worked his craft. She was strapped to a chair and she was adorned with a crystalline crown. He played a grim melody on the crystals that Resonated deep within her soul. Each note gave rise to a different kind of pain. The only way she could hide from it was by retreating into her mind. She found a place so deep that she could barely hear the crystalline tumult.

Then it stopped. She couldn’t hear anything. Lord Fein had walked into the room. “Miss Kiriin, yes?” he asked, motioning the torturer to leave.

“What do you want?” she responded in a quivering tone.

“Merely to check in on you. Perhaps you are ready to accept my offer? Your friend Rowan gave in last night.”

“No! You’re lying!”

It couldn’t be true.

“Rowan is stronger than that. She has to be.”

“Hardly. She was overcome with grief from the death of her friend. She blamed herself. It was only a matter of time, really.”

Fein gave her a melancholic sigh to add a degree of authenticity to what he was saying.

“But…”

“Tragic, really. Miss Anri would have been a valuable asset. Such a horrible death. Are you sure you don’t want to accept the deal? You don’t need to suffer.”

Before Kiriin could answer, Fein left the room and her torturer returned. She retreated back into her mind. It was too much. She couldn’t deal with the pain again. Not when she was already hurting so much from the news that Lord Fein had just given her. She went even deeper into her mind, not wanting to hear the song of torment.

She went too deep.

There was no escape.

*****

It was a different girl who woke up the next day. Her torture had come to an end. Last night she gave herself over to the Good Lords. To Lord Fein. She couldn’t remember why. Someone had died, someone she didn’t know.

Hmm. No. That’s not right. But why do I feel like I’ve lost something? I have nothing to lose?

It didn’t matter. Even if she wanted to consider it further, she couldn’t muster the emotional drive to explore the depths of her memories. No, what mattered was that she now lived to serve and that she would soon be free of the grim halls that had been her hell since… when? She couldn’t even remember that small detail.

Ah, well.

She stood up and stretched out all of her kinks as she waited for her escort. Pain flared in her arms and back. When they broke her they gave her one last gift from the caves. A new set of scars meant to serve her going forward. She was to be a weapon and they would make her stronger. Or so they said.

The door to the small cell opened wide, and two wardens walked in. “This way,” they said in almost unison, motioning towards the door. “Lord Fein awaits.”

They guided her through the caves, and for the first time in however long, it was without shackles.

It was a new experience.

Interesting.

She continued to observe her surroundings passively as they walked. It wasn’t quite how she remembered it, not that that meant much to her anymore. Perhaps the Good Lords didn’t need her to remember to be an effective weapon?

The journey didn’t take too long and soon they were in Lord Fein’s office. “Welcome,” he greeted her. “Congratulations on your newfound freedom.”

This isn’t freedom.

“Thank you,” the girl responded.

“How polite of you. A wonderful change of character if I do say so myself.” Lord Fein was smiling as he spoke.

“Should I not be polite to my master?”

No, you should not!

“Of course. You will serve the Good Lords well. Do you know why you are here?”

“To be a weapon, sir.”

His smile turned sinister. “Yes. We will be proceeding on to the next stage of your forging. Before that, however, you will need a new name.”

“Why is that, milord?” the girl asked.

“Because you are no longer the girl you once were. You are a weapon now and will be known as such.”

“Very well.”

“What to call you? Perhaps… Yes! Your new name shall be Siri.”

“Thank you.”

“Well, with that done with, I will continue with the debriefing. Can you state which Gift you possess?”

“Stalker, milord.”

“Good. Our estimates were correct. Now, going over your profile and recent developments,” he said, looking over the girl, “I have come to the conclusion that you will be forged into a knife for the Good Lords. We will have you cleaned up, well fed, and sent off to the training camps. I’m sure you will serve us well. Wardens! Take Siri here to the bathing chamber and then to processing.”

“Yessir!”

Siri was taken away and given the chance to bathe. It was a proper bath in nice hot water. To Siri, it was serviceable, perhaps even healing. She wasn’t sure. As she soaked, a man walked in to deliver some clothes. He then helped Siri ensure that she was clean. The assistance was welcomed but unnecessary.

Stay away from me!

As she got out of the bath, the man provided her with a towel and led her to a chair and a mirror. He sat her down and started to work on her hair. In the mirror, Siri saw why Lord Fein had decided to give her that name; her long, golden brown hair had started to turn stark white at the roots. It was almost silvery. She stared at herself with hazel eyes as the man cut her hair to chin length.

What is happening to me?

“Thank you,” she thanked the man as he finished up. He nodded and then left to allow her to get dressed. The clothes were brand new and well-fitted. She donned the black form-fitting riding leathers and soft riding boots.

Food was brought in after she was dressed, and she was treated to her first proper meal in what was probably a very long time. Her stomach even grumbled when she first laid eyes on it. Even so, she took her time eating it. Being overly hasty wouldn’t do her any good, after all. When she was done, the server took away her plate and they were once again on the move.

The path they took was long and winding; far longer than any other path she had taken in the caves, and it went up. Slowly but surely, they neared the surface. After an hour, they reached what looked to be a dead end; then, they were bathed in the light of day.

It almost blinded Siri as she stepped outside for the first time. One of the wardens had to stop her from going too far as the other checked to make sure there was no one else around. When he had confirmed they were in the clear, Siri was let go to venture outside. It was a strange experience; one that she had been sure that she would never experience again.

I should have accepted this deal sooner.

The wardens gave her a moment to bask in the experience before leading her to a nearby small town. It wasn’t much, not that Siri had anything to compare it to, but it had one important feature that the wardens were looking for; a coach house. She was guided to a very specific coach and told to get inside.

Being a good servant, she obliged. They gave her specific instructions not to leave until the door was opened, and she was told to. They provided her with food and drink. Then they closed the coach door and it was done. After some time, it started moving and it eventually stopped in the middle of a forest estate; her destination.

It was a large place, situated in a clearing. For some reason, it reminded Siri of a ranger’s lodge. Unsurprisingly, given the locale, it was made almost entirely out of wood. Outside of it, Siri was greeted by the woman who would become her primary instructor. The woman stood there with a slender build, raven black hair, and piercing blue eyes. She was beautiful. Even Siri, in her muted state, found the woman to be incredibly attractive. Yet, there was also something unsettling about her. As much as Siri considered the woman to be attractive, she was also equally intimidated by her. If looks could kill.

“So this is the new arrival?” she asked the coach driver.

The mysterious figure, dressed head to toe in browns, greys, and blacks, nodded with a slight grunt. Siri couldn’t tell if they were male or female or even what race they were, and she didn’t have much time to consider it as they left almost immediately.

“So tell me, girl, what have you been named?” the woman said, turning towards Siri.

“Siri.”

“Hmm. It’ll do. This way.” The woman led her into the lodge and started explaining things. “This will be your home and base of operations for the foreseeable future. Here you will be trained as an assassin or, as Fein puts it, a knife. I’ve always hated that term. Despite the brand on your backs, you are still people, but I digress. You will learn how to use weapons effectively and how to take part in covert operations. If the Good Lords need you to kill someone, you will and you will do it with efficiency and precision. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now this will be your room for the duration of your stay, and over here is where meals will be served. Most of our training facilities are in the basement or outside. You will also receive an education fitting your purpose. Most importantly, you will be trained to fight Awakened individuals as well as how best to use your own powers as a Stoic.”

During the tour through the lodge and the training facilities, Siri was introduced to other Ardents, Stoics, and un-Awakened individuals who were training to become spies and assassins, as well as the other instructors of the lodge. Then her training began. When her hair had turned fully silver, she was sent on her first mission.

Interlude: A Voice Unheard

Tehri woke up screaming; a silent cry that no one could hear. Night terrors. She had been suffering from them for almost a year, ever since she had woken up in that strange room. They haunted her every single night and they would wake her without fail.

She had nothing. Her family was gone and she was alone; at night, at least. No one could hear her silent cries, so no one would come to comfort her. During the day, at least, she wasn’t completely without company.  She was still in the care of Hana and Byrden, who had saved her from the brink of death.

They had found her broken body and brought her to a surgeon. They had spent almost everything they had to give Tehri a chance. Now, they did what they could to give her love and support while she recovered. It was all they could do other than abandon her and they weren’t about to do that when they had invested everything into her recovery.

Unfortunately, the trauma and her injuries had left her unable to speak. Try and try as she might, no sound would leave Tehri’s lips. She couldn’t even write. Not yet, at least. Even painting was lost to her. The muscle strength in her arms just wasn’t there. The months waiting for her shattered bones to heal had taken its toll. Even walking was difficult, but she had come a lot further in that department. She was trying, at least, so that one day she would be able to tell them her name and where she was from.

Why don’t they have a map? I could point out home if they just asked.

Alas, the sad truth was that they couldn’t really afford a map. Not until they had recouped some of their savings. It wasn’t easy for a young married couple with nothing to care for her and make a life for themselves. Tehri felt guilty for having put them in this position. If only she could ease the burden on them.

She made her decision.

As twilight came to a close, she struggled out of the bed that they had graciously given her—she even had her own room— and made her way towards the door. It was easy enough; a simple ring latch.

*CREAK!*

Tehri had forgotten how loud the door could be, and her attempts to open it slowly only made things worse. When it was finally open and she was convinced that she hadn’t woken anyone up, the exceptionally loud hooting of an owl sent her jumping out of her skin.

She fell down with a loud crash from the surprise. Her muscles ached from shock and she could hear movement in the other room. A tired young woman tiptoed out of the room with only a linen sheet to cover her naked body.

“Sindri? Oh, no. Are you okay?” Hana whispered to avoid waking up her husband. ‘Sindri’ was the name they had given her when it was apparent that she wouldn’t be able to tell them what her actual name was. It meant ‘River Hero’.

Tehri nodded in pain.

“Oh, dear. Did you need to go to the toilet?”

Tehri shook her head this time. Right now, that was the limit of her ability to communicate.

“Hmm. Okay, well, let’s get you some of your pain medication. The strong stuff, okay?” Hana asked. She was afraid that Tehri may have injured herself.

Tehri shook her head again. She hated the stronger medications. It made her feel weak for an entire day, sometimes longer.

“The weaker ones then?”

Tehri nodded reluctantly. She was in pain, after all.

Hana walked over to the water barrel on the far side of the common room to fill a cup and mix it with a pale blue powder. Tehri was still getting used to the lack of plumbing in the house, or even how small it was. It was almost the exact opposite of her home in Næmyris.

“Here, drink this,” Hana said after returning with the water. She made sure that Tehri had a firm grip on the cup before letting go. Tehri drank the bitter medicine in one go. It was unpleasant, but it worked.

“Is there nothing we can do to help you talk?” Hana asked herself.

Tehri just looked at her wishfully. They hadn’t figured anything out yet.

“Anyway, let’s get you back to bed.“ Hana gently helped Tehri up and guided her back to the small bed. She stayed by Tehri’s side as she drifted off. When she was finally asleep, Hana returned to her husband’s side and pondered.

*****

The following morning, Hana was walking through the village market when inspiration struck her. One of the stalls had a few novelties and toys for young children. None of them were suitable for someone of the girl’s age, whatever that was. There was, however, a collection of rounded blocks that caught her eye.

The faces of the blocks had an assortment of letters, numbers, and other symbols. It was an odd thing to see in a village. Most of the people didn’t really need to read and write particularly well for their jobs and they couldn’t really afford to learn much more than the basics. Hana had only learned because her father was a blacksmith, and crafting families tended to have a better education. Still, it was enough to give her an idea. She just hoped that Tehri knew how to read and write.

She hurried to finish her chores around the market before rushing to Byrden’s forge. He was working on a horseshoe for the farrier when she barged in. “Byrden! I know how we can help Sindri talk.”

Byrden almost dropped his hammer in surprise as Hana practically shouted down his ear. “Heart of the Sun, Hana. Don’t startle me like that when I’m working the anvil or the forge.”

“Sorry, but I have an idea that you need to hear.”

“Can you at least let me finish this horseshoe?” he asked with some exasperation.

“Sure thing,” Hana responded, taking a seat away from the forge and flattening out her dress as she waited.

Byrden returned to his craft, hammering away at the horseshoe, taking care not to overwork the metal. His muscles rippled with each strike and he was dripping with sweat. Contrary to what a lot of her friends thought, Hana found it to be a rather attractive look.

She loved to watch Byrden work. Even when he was apprenticed to her father, she would sneak into the smithy to watch him. Her father had been completely oblivious to the whole thing, as had Byrden. He was rather surprised at how bold Hana was when she took him to bed after her father promoted him from his status as an apprentice.

Almost miraculously, Hana’s father hadn’t heard a thing as they romped the night away and was thoroughly shocked when she walked out of Byrden’s room and declared that they were getting married. That had been three years ago, and like the old times, she watched.

Byrden followed a template in the form of a blank horseshoe so that he could ensure consistency. The farrier would need to adjust later when it was actually fitted to a horse. No two horses were the same after all, but it helped to start from a standard baseline. He was also a proud smith and he valued good solid work.

His consistency had helped him massively during his apprenticeship and in establishing his own business, but it also held him back from developing his own style. Even so, he was soon done with the horseshoe and it held up to his standards. After ensuring there were no flaws in the shoe, he turned to Hana, who had been watching him with an excited smile that was half from watching him work and half from the idea she had. “So what is it that you need to tell me so bad that you are practically wetting yourself from excitement?” he asked.

“I figured out how we can give Sindri back her voice!” Hana replied, her smile glowing in the light of the forge.

“Okay?” Byrden responded hesitantly. “And what is this genius plan of yours?”

“We need a big wooden board with letters nailed to it. Her arms are still weak but she can point. Maybe she can spell things out.”

“You think she’s literate?”

“We can always ask, and I can teach her if I need to. I have some books lying around in the bedroom back from Dad’s house.”

“That could work. What do you need me to do?”

“Make the board, of course. I’m sure you have enough scrap metal to put together an alphabet. It doesn’t need to be perfect.”

Byrden looked hurt at the suggestion, but he nodded. “I can work on it between projects, but we don’t have the money for me to put aside too much time for it.”

“Understood,” Hana smiled.

*****

A few months later, the board was finished. It was rough, but hopefully functional. As it was nearing completion, Hana had asked Tehri if she could read and write, to which she nodded. Of course, she could. That was normal, wasn’t it? They revealed what they had planned a couple of days later.

She was so excited that she didn’t have any night terrors in the nights that followed. Unfortunately, her excitement also came with mania and she still couldn’t get much sleep. It was her first true manic episode in what felt like years. Hana wasn’t equipped to deal with Tehri’s newfound energy or how she acted like pain was a non-issue.

“Sindri, please sit down,” Hana pleaded, “You’re going to get yourself hurt.”

Instead of heeding her request, Tehri jumped around the small room on legs that weren’t really equipped to deal with the strain yet. She didn’t care. It was the day that she would finally be able to put her thoughts out to the world. Calm was not in her vocabulary that day. She was as intense as the rapids that had almost killed her. Only when Byrden came in with the board did she sit down, and even then, she was constantly moving.

“Easy there,” Byrden told Tehri as he placed the board down in front of her.

“Okay, how should we test this?” Hana asked no one in particular. “Let’s start with something easy. Can you spell my name?”

Tehri did so with ease.

“What about the name of the capital city?” Byrden asked.

Tehri spelt out ‘Midiris’ with ease, but too quickly for the couple to follow.

“Easy there, Sindri,” Byrden cautioned, “This isn’t going to be helpful if we can’t follow what you’re trying to say.”

She tried again, slower this time. It was difficult. She wanted to tell them everything already.

“That’s better,” Hana smiled. “Do you think it would be okay to tell us your name? We could keep calling you Sindri, but I’m sure you would rather us use your actual name.”

“Tehri,” she spelt out. “Tehri’aana Naliir, but Tehri is fine. Sindri is a nice name, as well.”

The couple held their mouths agape. It was weird seeing her so full of words after so long. “Where are you from, Tehri?” Byrden asked.

“Næmyris. I wanted to show you on a map all this time. Can we go already? I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not a burden, Tehri,” Hana assured her. She recognised the name of the town that Tehri had named. It had been the site of a tragic raid during the eclipse just before they had found her.

“I can’t believe we didn’t think of a map sooner!” Byrden exclaimed, looking at his wife.

“We would have needed to buy it back in Talaran.”

“True,” Byrden admitted before turning back to Tehri. “I’m sorry to say, but I don’t think we can afford a trip to Næmyris.” Tehri looked crestfallen at that, but Byrden continued, “However, we can send a letter if you have anyone in mind.”

“Ma and Da! They’ll still be there!” Tehri spelt excitedly.

“Can you tell us their names, sweetie?” Hana asked, trying to veil her growing concern with cheer.

“My Ma’s name is Hæra and my Da is Gyren.”

“That name sounds familiar,” Byrden remarked. “Gyren Naliir? Merchant?”

“Yes!” Tehri responded instantly.

“Hana’s father used to know someone who did business with an associate of his. We could try sending him a letter. We’ll draft it with your approval and input, of course.”

Tehri nodded fervently.

Following that, the three of them drafted the letter.

“Dear Master Naliir,

Last year, my wife and I found your daughter, Tehri’aana, washed up in our village and severely injured. We took it upon ourselves to have her treated by a surgeon in Talaran. She barely survived the ordeal, but she is now recovering quite well. She has, unfortunately, lost her voice and is yet to find it again, however, doctors assure us that it is only a matter of time. She wants to return home to you and your wife. We would bring her to you, but we are unable to afford it due to the medical expenses. As such, we are hoping that you will be able to come here to Aran Village between the rivers Tarik and Kanra.

Regards,

Byrden and Hana Kaafast.”

They sent the letter off at the end of the week with the boat from Tærin City. Two months later, the response came. Not in the form of the man himself or his wife, but in a letter and a coffer filled with gold and silver.

“Dear Byrden and Hana Kaafast,

Thank you for rescuing my daughter and keeping her safe. I regret to say that I cannot come for her. There is no happiness for her left in Næmyris. My wife is dead, slaughtered by bandits. My eldest daughter is still missing. I cannot be the father Tehri needs. I know this is a lot to ask, but please give her the happiness that I cannot.

The money with this letter should be enough to cover your losses and help in the future. I will continue to provide at regular intervals. In the coffer is also a bracelet. This is her older sister’s last gift to her. One last thing: Please break the news of her mother’s death gently. I don’t know how she doesn’t know already, but it is a small mercy that she didn’t see it.

Regards,

A broken father.”

It was as Hana had feared. She did what she could to follow the last request, but there was no easy way to break that kind of news to a young girl who had already suffered so much. It might have even been impossible. Tehri ran into her room and cried for days when they told her. She held the bracelet close and grasped at the twin moon necklace as she screamed silently into her pillow.

Such was the start of her new life with Hana and Byrden in earnest. In the years that followed, they did all in their power to give Tehri a happy life. It wasn’t much, but it was something and Tehri appreciated it in spite of her grief. In the small village of Aran, she found some happiness amongst all of the sadness.

Interlude: Aftermath

Caer Luen trembled against the might of a terrible storm. At first, it seemed like any other windstorm. The small border fortress had seen many during its long watch over the Ru'eni Empire and the Pass of Changing Winds. The current siege upon its walls, however, was far from standard. Had the keep not been built to withstand an initial invasion from the Ru'eni, its walls would have been devastated.

The Beacon of Keilan's Gaze, on the other hand, was built with a different purpose in mind, and it was visibly swaying in the wind. In the face of such a force, its mighty height would be its downfall.

Commander Feldrik feared for the men and women who called the tower home. If they didn't retreat to the caves below, it was likely they wouldn't survive and the young lord who watched over them was a stubborn fool.

"Rias! Get me the Communications Array," Feldrik called out to his Lieutenant.

With a quick salute, Lieutenant Rias took her leave from the Commander's temporary office. They had been forced to abandon his primary office due to the storm, but in their haste, they had forgotten to bring a few strategic essentials with them. Now he just hoped that such essentials hadn't been completely devastated.

Some of his worries were alleviated when Rias returned with the crystalline structure and book of configurations in hand.

"It's a bit wet, Commander, but the ink doesn't appear to be overly smudged," Rias announced as she handed over the book.

The dampness was palpable as he opened up the book to find the configurations he needed. At first, it seemed as if his Lieutenant's assessment was reasonably accurate when an inky mess of a page fell out from near the back of the book.

"We may have lost a few configurations," Rias said, amending her statement. "Namely, your father and General Tengri."

"Still not on speaking terms with your uncle?" Feldrik asked.

"I just feel it prudent to use his rank when referring to him in a military context, Commander."

"Then I will choose to ignore the slight smile you gave when you mentioned the loss of his configuration."

"I appreciate it."

There was no point in prying any further and Feldrik wasn't sure he wanted to. General Tengri was unique at the best of times and his relationship with his adopted niece was rather unusual.

The room fell into an awkward, storm-filled silence as Feldrik searched the book for the configuration he required. When he found it, he was glad to see that it was still recognisable. Not wanting to waste any more time and praying it wasn't too late, Feldrik configured the Communication Array and sent the signal to the tower.

After several long, arduous minutes, a raging cacophony assaulted their ears as the tower finished the link. A small voice found its way through, barely more than a whisper against the storm.

"Commander Feldrik, is that you?"

"It is, aye. Are you evacuating?"

Feldrik wasn't sure who he was talking to, but it didn't really matter as long as they could give him answers.

"To a limited extent, yes. Roughly a third of us have retreated to the caves, but Lord Darren refuses to abandon his post, and the others won't leave him."

"I should have known. Any casualties?"

"Four, plus near enough an entire watch of farseers."

Feldrik winced at the report. Such losses were a tragic blow.

"Right. Get me Lord Darren before this storm kills anyone else."

"Yessir!"

They returned as quickly as could be expected with Lord Darren in tow.

"Commander Feldrik. In any other circumstance, I'd say it was a pleasure, but we are under attack."

Lord Darren's voice was clear and confident in a way that cut through the roaring that accompanied it.

"I am well aware of that, milord. You must evacuate before it's too late."

"Nonsense! This tower won't fall as long as I remain vigilant!"

"Lord Darren, you've already lost too many men."

"And I feel their sacrifices most keenly, but if we evacuate now, we'll leave ourselves wide open. I will not hand this pass over to the Empire!"

Feldrik was starting to lose his patience. If there was ever a time for Lord Darren's stubborn antics, this was not it.

"If we lose you and the tower, you'll be doing just that! The tower was not built to withstand this kind of assault."

"The other men and women can evacuate if they deem it necessary. I, however, will not leave my post."

"They won't leave you to die!"

"That's…"

"Enough! As your military superior, I order you to evacuate!"

Feldrik wasn't sure if pulling rank would be enough — Lord Darren wasn't serving in a strictly military capacity, after all — but it was worth a shot. The response he got, however, was far from comforting as the sound of crashing stone raked at his ears.

When the connection to the tower broke, he feared the worst. Fortunately, it was re-established after only a few seconds. Several voices joined the discordant harmony on the other side, with one calling out with enough volume that it came through the connection clearly enough for Feldrik to hear it.

"Milord! The beacon has fallen!"

"What!"

The outrage landing on Feldrik's ears was a relief, to be sure, as it indicated that Lord Darren was alive at the very least. That relief soon turned to dread as another voice called out.

The last thing Feldrik heard before the connection died again was, "Milady, no!"

*****

A few days later, once the storm passed, Feldrik rode out to Keilan's Gaze with a small escort to assess the damages personally.

It was a disaster.

The once majestic tower lay in ruins. Like a shooting star that once lit the night sky, it had come crashing down. Keilan was blind and there was nothing they could do about it.

They would need to rebuild the beacon from the ground up. Before that, however, they'd need to look for survivors. Feldrik sent a rider back to Caer Luen with orders to bring back a search team before starting the initial search with the rest of his escort.

"This is awful," Rias remarked solemnly.

She was right. There weren't many bodies, not yet at least, but the ones that were visible had been battered and broken by the devastation. It was already too much, but not quite enough for Feldrik to give up hope. It helped that he had been told that at least a third of the men and women had made the retreat.

"Everyone spread out," Feldrik ordered. "I'll take the cave entrance."

He gave himself the most dangerous area as it required entering the ruined base of the tower. A small bit of rubble clattered against the ground as he pushed the heavy door aside. The scene inside was much as it had been outside, only more visceral. A less seasoned soldier would have been at risk of losing his lunch.

It was clear that most of the damage was from crush injuries, though a few probably died from impact after the upper floors gave way beneath them. Feldrik's heart ached with every confirmed loss. It was the one aspect of military service that never got any easier and while it hurt, he prayed it was a pain he'd never become numb to.

Rather than waste time checking what little remained of the upper floors, Feldrik made his way to the rear, where he found one poor soul who had been so close to the caves. They had been crushed from the waist up just inches away from the cellar hatch by a large segment of flooring. To make matters worse, the heavy rubble had also caved in the hatch, making it impossible to get down there without assistance.

Guided by circumstance, he shouted through the cracks into the cellar, hoping at least someone would hear him. His prayers were soon answered with clear signs of life. Before he could get a proper exchange going, however, Rias called out to him from where she had been searching.

"Commander, we've got survivors!"

"So have I," Feldrik called back.

"If they aren't in any immediate need of aid, they can wait."

The degree of urgency in Rias' voice was unexpected, but he couldn't ignore the people in the caves. It was only when they insisted they were okay that he made his way to Rias.

She was in another ruined segment of the tower with just under two dozen survivors in varying degrees of consciousness. Feldrik was amazed. He had expected one or two people to have survived the tower's collapse outside of the caves. The surprising truth of the matter was nothing short of a miracle.

What truly amazed Feldrik, however, was that one of the survivors was on her feet, albeit with Rias' assistance. The young Ferran girl was going round giving everyone water with little regard for her own injuries. From her tattered noble garb and familial resemblance to Lord Darren, Feldrik came to the simple conclusion that she was a relative of his, likely a sister.

"Is this it?" Feldrik asked his lieutenant.

The girl answered in Rias' stead. "There were more, but they didn't survive the storm. I couldn't get them to shelter."

"You have done more than enough, milady. You should rest. I can have Rias here escort you back to Caer Luen."

"I can't leave my brother!"

"Excuse me?"

"Lord Darren," Rias explained.

"He protected me when the tower collapsed on top of us. Now he won't wake up."

"Are you sure…"

"He's not dead! See, he's still breathing."

With his eyes now looking at where the girl was pointing, Feldrik saw the unconscious body of Lord Darren. His chest was rising and falling as the young lady had suggested, though only just.

"I brought medics with me, milady, and I assure you that your brother will get the best treatment we can manage. In the meantime, you'll only be in the way. Both myself and Lord Darren will rest easier knowing that you are safe within Caer Luen's walls."

Feldrik prayed that she wasn't as stubborn as her brother.

"I'll leave when the full rescue team that you no doubt sent for arrives. Until then, I can still help with water."

A hint of a compromise. Feldrik could work with that.

"If you insist. However, I must insist in kind that a medic tends to your injuries. That arm of yours is probably broken and you might have some internal bleeding."

Feldrik wasn't sure of the bleeding, but the arm was in dire need of setting and it was better to be safe than sorry. Fortunately, the young lady nodded her assent.

When the rescue team finally arrived and Lord Darren was being fully cared for, she held up her end of the bargain and left with Rias. With her gone and the team in position, the rescue operation could finally begin in earnest.

*****

Queen Elarin sat solemnly on her throne. She was exhausted. In the months that had followed her daughter's disappearance, she had barely slept. Even with her best agents looking into it, the investigation was going far too slowly. Furthermore, the attack on Næmyris only muddied the waters.

At first, the two events seemed completely unrelated, a tragic coincidence. However, as her agents investigated, they discovered evidence that many, many more mass kidnappings had been carried out over the course of the past five years.

The realisation that so many children had been taken from their homes was mortifying, and the fact that Queen Elarin was only just hearing about it was even worse. Almost every report from the afflicted areas failed to state the truth of the matter. Instead, they seemed intent on selling the lie that the attacks were nothing more than common banditry and that they were being dealt with.

So much for trusting that the northern territories could police themselves without any need of further supervision. At the same time, Queen Elarin acknowledged that she was also at fault to some small degree. She had been overly lax in her direct governing of the counties outside of the heartlands.

Someone was taking advantage of her policies and now she was determined to find who. Maybe then, she could start making it up to her daughter and the countless children she had failed.

*****

"Abandon ship!"

Malin didn't need telling a second time. The devils of the Midiran Navy had found them and there was no escape.

He dove into the Sea of Fire with only seconds to spare as the mast of the ship exploded. A sailor landed just in front of him, a giant splinter impaling his gut.

That could have been him. He sighed in relief when suddenly water started filling his lungs, and a sharp pain radiated from just below his hip. A Dramach had bitten into his side and it was dragging him under.

Is this where I die?

Malin's vision was starting to fade when the Dramach released him and he was pulled out of the water. When he opened his eyes again he was on the deck of a navy vessel with several spears pointed at his face.

The captain of the ship stared at him with murderous intent. If looks could kill.

"Tell me where the rest of you are hiding and I'll ease your suffering."

Karma at last.

*****

"Aunt Nia, look at this!"

The kindly matriarch of Clan Sari smiled at the young boy who came running into her room with a giant carrot in his hands.

"What do you have here, sweetie?" she asked.

"It's from the garden! I dug it up myself."

"Nicely done."

"Mimi Reika says that we're going to have a really good harvest this year."

From the look of that carrot, Reika was right, which was unusual. Every single forecast until that point had indicated a somewhat lacking yield for the crop that year. Now they had giant vegetables growing in the garden. It was as if all the crops had undergone a massive growth spurt overnight.

Nia wasn't sure who she had to thank for this miracle, but whoever it was was deserving of the biggest hug.

*****

Mount Cragmor on the island of Færich Lan was once again painting the sky with soot and ash following its third eruption in less than a month. The beast could not be contained, and its roar threatened to wake the slumbering Chain of Fire.

*****

The Azure City trembled ever so slightly in the wake of yet another earthquake. The odd tremor was far from unusual, but the frequency was starting to become a little concerning, even if the magnitude was barely noticeable. King Dreigan wondered if it was a sign of things to come. His recent conversation with Queen Elarin of Llen Fær only reinforced the idea.

She had come to him with terrible news of treachery and banditry within her fair nation. Countless children had been taken from their homes. The news struck close to home with the birth of his nephew, and his unease was further amplified when he recalled various reports of similar things happening all across Ferran. More disturbing still was that Særis was largely untouched by such crimes.

Queen Elarin's own investigations had also led her towards Særis, though her trail ended at the border. That she confided in him when all the evidence painted him as a suspect was a great honour worthy of respect. As a show of appreciation, he joined his intelligence with hers in an attempt to rout out the villains and put an end to their scheming. He just had to be careful that the change of focus didn't weaken the southern border of Ferran too much after the collapse of Keilan's Gaze.

*****

Lord Fein held true to his word; Seres had been left completely untouched. Well, physically speaking, at least. She was still subject to countless attempts at indoctrination and mind games. They were particularly fond of trying to guilt trip her into breaking. They failed, of course. Rowan wasn't about to let herself be used against Seres.

All it took was following Amran's advice. Talking made for an excellent counter-attack to the psychological warfare the torturers employed. It was also essential for proving that Lord Fein hadn't broken his end of the bargain, which is the prime reason they hadn't been separated.

He tried it once and it almost ended in disaster.

As time went on, Rowan truly fell into the sister role as Seres started undergoing the familiar process of puberty. It was difficult at first; the caves weren't exactly built with feminine hygiene in mind. Even so, they got by.

There were, however, some unforeseen challenges as both girls started garnering more attention from some of the denizens in the cell. Rowan had to fight off the first few advances before they got the idea. Amran also helped, though in a less violent manner.

When months became years, Rowan started laying the groundwork for their escape. When the time came, she would be ready.

Chapter 13: Ardent Awakening

For many long arduous hours, Rowan was tortured by the Silent Sisters. As they worked their grim art, a warden, one of the educators, droned on with an unrelenting tirade of blame. Each word hammered on that Anri’s death was her fault, that Rowan’s unwillingness to act and her feeble attempts at comfort led Anri to the irrational decision that would cause her own demise.

The warden let Rowan know that had she only done what had been expected, then the fight would have eliminated any chance of such thoughts from forming; that with the fight done, the knife would have been taken from her possession. Finally, he argued that had she been a true friend, Rowan’s compassion would have allowed her to take on some of Anri’s pain, lessening the damage long enough for the guards to have prevented her death.

It was all meaningless. They could spout all the rhetoric that they wanted to. It mattered not. Rowan could not, would not, hear them. Even the pain of her torture was nothing compared to the emotions she was feeling.

It was a feeling akin to when she lost her mother. It was primal, something that couldn’t be described in one or two simple words. It was pain, grief, loss, guilt, despair, and so much more. It was a deep umbral darkness and through it, Rowan could see the cracks. Was this the end?

“Don’t let ‘em win!”

Through the cracks, Rowan heard a voice. She recognised it. Rina was speaking to her again.

How? What? Why? Where have you been?

“Always here. Always with you.”

This was something different. Before, Rina had never directly responded to Rowan’s thoughts.

I don’t understand!

“Talking is hard. Your voice, it doesn’t carry. Not like your feelings.”

Why now, though? Why not before?

“Because I’m incomplete. I sacri… my core… rescue mother… set… free.”

Rina?

“I can’t main… this much longer. Be strong… not your fault. Mother sends her love.”

And with that, the voice was gone. Rina was gone, but a part of her remained.

What if it's already too late? I’m such a failure. I don’t…

No, I cannae think like that. It doesn’t matter if I deserve Ma’s love or not, I have it, and I won’t let it go to waste.

The thought gave Rowan a small token of strength, and a shadow of a smile broke through the grimaces of pain. Seeing Rowan smile, the Silent Sisters grew livid, as if the act was a personal slight against their craft.

This was a completely different side to them. The warden could do nothing to respond to their anger as one grabbed one of Rowan's fingers, a fire in her eyes, and twisted it back with a resounding crack. In almost perfect tandem, the other pierced the flesh of the small of Rowan's back with her crystalline needles, carving a winglike cross on either side of her spine. The pain that followed was beyond words, as if every bone in her body shattered, the shards lacerating her nerves from within.

“ROWAN!”

The intense pain called back Rina’s cries, however, it all came too late as the pain drained out her voice. In her newfound agony, Rowan was left completely and utterly alone, unable to shake away the suffering.

*****

For three days straight, Rowan was tortured. The Silent Sisters did not rest. Even the requests of Lord Fein would not stop them. Rowan closed herself off from the world and from everyone in it. She was unworthy. The silent cries of Rina echoed from the depths of Rowan’s heart, landing on deaf ears.

Instead, Rowan only heard the mocking laughter of a phantom revelling in her despair. She huddled around the last embers of comfort that remained within her being.

Why am I losing everything? It’s not fair! It’s not…

No one was coming to her aid. No one was going to save her from breaking. All she had was her own wavering strength. She was bound by the shackles of grief, weighed down by the crushing emptiness of isolation, and crippled by fear. Even the Silent Sisters were beginning to feel it. She hated them so much.

Why can’t they feel it? They should be crippled by the same pain I am.

It was almost too much.

No more!

She couldn’t keep running and hiding. She hadn’t lost everything. She wasn’t broken. Not yet. Tehri was alive and so was she. Seres and Kiriin could still be saved. It didn’t matter that no one was coming to save her; she would save herself. Though her body cried, Rowan stood resolute. Though her heart grieved, Rowan moved forward. The Silent Sisters had pushed too far. Before, she had been cracking. Now, they closed the gaps with each passing hour.

This ends now! I cannae let my feelings destroy me, nor can I reject them. I am my feelings and my feelings are me. So what if I falter every now and then? So what if I cry? It proves that I am alive, and I WILL KEEP LIVING!

Rowan practically screamed her defiance across the threshold and prayed that her words would reach everyone she had lost. They had forged their weapon.

*****

Rowan was kept in isolation for an entire week following Anri’s death. When the wardens finally came to bring her back, she gave them a look of determination. “Take me to Lord Fein,” she demanded. They obliged happily. Rowan could see their smiles. They thought that she had finally cracked and that she was about to give in. She followed them proudly as they led her to Lord Fein’s office.

Lord Fein looked as genteel and well-dressed as he always did. He gave Rowan a polite smile. “What can I do for you, Miss Rowan?” he asked, “Finally looking to accept my generous offer?”

“Hardly.”

“Then why are you here?”

“To make a bargain of my own,” Rowan responded confidently.

“Oh really? And what are the terms of this bargain that you have come to offer?”

“I want to take on all of the suffering and torment meant for Seres, the Ferran girl with the Mark of the Goddess in my cell. If she is to be punished, punish me instead. If she is to be tortured, torture me in her place. I will take it all. I won’t let you break her.”

“And what makes you think that I would accept this deal?”

“Because you want me to break, and you want me to be as strong as I can be when I do. That’s why you will also continue to have me trained. Furthermore, if I break, you will be able to consider this agreement void. It’s not like I’d be able to stop you. Not only that, but if I break, you’ll probably come up with some way to use it against her. Think about it.”

“You make some fair points. Especially about being able to break her highness if you were to crack under the weight of the suffering meant for her. Your friend, Kiriin, is already a perfect example of that fact.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“I didn’t do a thing, Miss Rowan. She just came to the conclusion that Miss Anri’s death had caused you to shatter into a thousand pieces, so to speak. She didn’t last long after that. You know, it’s rare that I see someone withdraw that deeply into themself. If anything…”

Rowan’s will wavered for a second before she steeled herself for what came next. Her heart ached for Kiriin. She didn’t want to believe that she could fall so easily. Such thoughts were an insult to her childhood love. Nothing that happened in these caves was easy and Rowan had come within seconds of breaking countless times during her tenure with the Silent Sisters. If her position had been reversed with Kiriin, she’d have been inclined to think the same thing. Alas, there wasn’t anything she could really do about it.

“Doesn’t change a thing,” Rowan said, almost callously. “Do we have a deal? You risk little and I get to maybe save a young girl from being used in your sick war.”

“Don’t you want to try saving your friend as well?”

“If I did, you’d probably make me choose between the two, and I cannae make that choice. Not now. So I’ll let logic and reason make the choice for me. I cannae save everyone, after all.

“I can’t save everyone. Not yet.”

“Fine. You are a smart little girl, aren’t you? I’ll tell you what, you’ve managed to pique my interest and I was quite the gambling man in my youth. As such, I will add an additional term to the deal in your favour.

“If Princess Seres comes to any physical harm under my direct orders while you remain unbroken, I will permit the two of you a kind of freedom. A house arrest, if you will. If any of my men and women act against orders in this matter, they will be dealt with. In the name of the Goddess, I swear.”

“I can accept that.”

“I look forward to you joining us, Miss Rowan.”

“Not gonna happen. I may not be strong enough yet, but it is only a matter of time. I promise in the name of Niir Talæren, Goddess of the Awakened Eyes, Betrothed of the Sun, and Mother of all Life, that I will break free of these shackles.

“From this day, you and the so-called ‘Good Lords’ are marked. I will see that every last one of you falls. You will not hold us forever. I have Awakened and the world will know the strength of an Ardent’s tears.”

Rowan stood adamantly in defiance as she uttered an oath that made the world beneath her feet shudder in shock. She had spoken the name of the Goddess. She heard and the Goddess wept. Meanwhile, Her daughter, Illyria, shook with anger, and the Heart of the Sun grew fierce. That day the world saw storms of the like that hadn’t been seen in over a thousand years, and the Chain of Fire grew restless. Even Lord Fein could not deny the significance of what had just happened and he trembled.

That day, everything changed.

*****

Lord Fein collapsed into his chair as soon as Rowan was escorted out of his office. At first, he thought she was just blowing hot air in light of her friend’s death. He’d seen that kind of behaviour time and time again. Every time whatever bargains they made ended with him ahead. This shouldn’t have been the exception. The circumstances were lining up to create a perfect soldier.

She just had to make that oath!

Because of her foolishness, he couldn’t even back out of his own side of the bargain, lest he be marked an oathbreaker by the Goddess. Fein wasn’t sure what the consequences of invoking the Goddess’ true name would be, but he’d heard the rumours of calamity that sometimes followed such oaths. It was anecdotal evidence at best, but his Gift prevented him from taking the risk. One’s own life was never a bargaining chip for a Philosopher such as he.

Such reasoning was also why he didn’t just have Rowan killed. Such a flagrant waste of potential would not go unnoticed by the Good Lords, and when they would inevitably investigate, Fein could not picture a sequence of events that did not lead to his death. Either they would kill him straight up, or they’d kill him for getting himself into such a mess. As such, the only choice was to play along and pray that Rowan broke like all those who had come before her.

*****

Storms started ravaging the face of Illyria, and Rowan returned to her cell as a new woman. She was still young, yes, but she had also forged herself a purpose from the crystalline hammers of her tormentors. It had been an exhausting ordeal, one that would leave her scarred for years to come. Even so, she pulled through. At the same time, she wished that it hadn’t come at the cost of Anri’s life. Her loss would haunt Rowan for years to come. She refused to let her death be in vain, however.

This was the beginning of the end and in spite of everything, she smiled as she stepped back into the cell. It was the home she hated to see and the home she would one day destroy.

Rowan saw Seres look up with raw eyes and tears streaming down her face when Rowan took her first steps inside the cell. “Rowan!” Seres cried out and rushed into Rowan’s arms with a leap. “I thought you were never coming back.” She was sobbing audibly into Rowan’s chest, drawing a fair bit of attention to the pair.

“Of course, silly. It’ll take more than that to break me.” Rowan wrapped her arms around the younger girl and patted her head, neglecting to mention how close she had actually come.

“What happened? No one would tell me the details. Only that you and Anri had screwed up massively.”

“You should probably sit down for this,” Rowan said with a sympathetic tone. In truth, she knew that she would need to be sitting down as well to break the news to Seres.

“What? Why?” Concern started to touch Seres’ voice.

“Just trust me,” Rowan responded as she turned to see that all the cots had been occupied. She turned to look at a boy on the closest one who was trying very hard not to maintain eye contact with her. He was also notably not using it to sleep. “Move,” Rowan commanded, “You can have it when we’re done.”

He tried to stammer a response, but Rowan just glared at him. He stopped after that and scampered away to give the girls his seat. Rowan gave him an appreciative smile. When they sat down, Rowan took Seres’ hands into hers and looked compassionately into Seres’ deep gold and blue cat-like eyes.

“This isnae gonna be easy to hear, but you gotta listen. On the day I was taken, Anri and I were pitted against each other in the arena. We weren’t about to go at each other, but the wardens just had us whipped. It was too much for Anri. She just wanted it all to stop, so she cut herself with the knife they had given her. The hate overwhelmed her and within seconds, it was over.”

Rowan was being careful to be clear with her explanation rather than obfuscate any of the facts. She would learn eventually and it was better to learn from a friend. Plus, Rowan had a better way to soften the blow. Through her compassionate touch, Rowan let Seres’ pain flow into her. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough.

Seres was breathing heavily as Rowan finished the first part of her explanation. It was a lot to take in. “That’s awful,” she said in a mortified tone.

“Yes,” Rowan said simply. There was no point adding any unnecessary bells and whistles and it would only complicate things. Instead, she continued with her explanation, staying in contact the entire time.

“You don’t need to worry about them torturing you or anything now,” she said at the end. “I made a deal with Lord Fein to take on anything and everything meant for you.”

“No, you can’t!” Seres sounded horrified at the idea. “It’s too much! I can handle it.”

“So can I,” Rowan smiled, “especially if you aren’t suffering. I failed Anri. I won’t fail you.”

“I’m not your responsibility,” Seres objected, trying to pull away slightly.

“But you are my friend,” Rowan stressed. “I can handle whatever pain they throw at me. They want me to be a weapon so they won’t risk breaking my body beyond repair. That’s nothing. The Silent Sisters peaked last week and it only made me stronger. The thought of that being directed at you, however? That could break me.”

“You say it like you can’t feel pain anymore. Physical pain, that is.”

“Hardly; it hurts like a bitch. I’d rather wrestle with a Drakiir or get trampled by a stampeding bull.”

“Then…”

“It’s still better than seeing you suffer. I promise I will free us from this place and return you home. From this day until the day my soul fades, we are soul sisters, as are all that I love.”

Taking Rowan completely off guard, Seres actually giggled at that. “Everyone?” she asked. “Even boys or your parents?”

“Well, who says boys cannae be sisters?” Rowan blushed. “And. Well. You know what I meant,” she said in an accusatory tone.

“You were being too serious. But I like the sound of being your sister. Just so you know, this doesn’t make you the new second princess of Llen Fær and the Chain of Fire.”

In response, Rowan gave Seres a look that went from confusion to comprehension, to “obviously”, and finally to mirth. The two girls laughed and the cell was a little brighter for the time being. Shortly after, they let the, now, very confused boy have his cot back.

*****

After her conversation with Seres, Rowan realised that Amran wasn’t around, so she decided to wait for him in his usual spot. She even gave Seres a wink as she did her best impression of Amran meditating. Her plan sort of fell flat when the exhaustion caught up with her and she inevitably passed out. She was awoken some time later by some gentle shaking and a calm and collected voice. “Rowan, wake up. You’re drooling.”

Rowan’s resulting wake-up from those words was far from calm or gentle. “Huh! What? No, I’m not,” she objected suddenly, her eyes wide open and the side of her chin very damp.

Amran gave her a flat look as she failed to collect herself. “Welcome back. Care to explain what happened earlier?”

“What do you mean by earlier?”

“With Seres? And that deal that you made with Lord Fein?”

“Oh, that? I thought it was pretty self-explanatory,” Rowan responded, forgetting that she had planned to explain everything to Amran.

“I’m not sure if you are incredibly brave or incredibly stupid with that deal.”

“Wow!” Rowan responded before sticking her tongue out at him. “Rude. But, yeah, it’s probably both.”

“Did you consider the wisdom of your actions first?”

“Long and hard. More than you could imagine even. After they were done torturing me, they left me with nothing other than my thoughts. I realised that they weren’t going to break me through physical pain. They’d already done their worst. It was because of my emotions that I faltered. My greatest strength and my greatest curse as it stands. If I let them do whatever they wanted to Seres, I would break. Losing Anri nearly pushed me over the edge and I won’t let that happen again.”

“What about me?” Amran asked pointedly.

“What about you?” Rowan responded with a confused look.

“Why didn’t you offer to take on my pain and torment?

“Oh. Right. Yeah, that. Because I’m not strong enough to do it for three people, and you seem to have it down.”

“I thought you said that they couldn’t break you with physical pain.”

“My mind, aye, but I know there are still limits to what my body can handle.”

“That’s more intelligent than I was expecting.”

“Hey! It’s not like I’m an idiot, and I dinnae care about what I said before about being incredibly stupid. You cannae use my own words against me.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” he smiled in response.

“Well, bleh.” She stuck her tongue out at him again.

“If you are done with your objections, would you mind wiping away the drool that is still there and giving me back my place?”

Rowan jumped up in embarrassment and quickly wiped away at her face to hide her rosy cheeks. “Um yeah, take it.” She returned to Seres immediately after that, only to find out that she had been watching the whole exchange with great amusement.

*****

In the months and years that followed, Lord Fein held true to his word. Seres had been left completely untouched. Physically speaking, at least. They still tried breaking her through indoctrination and mind games. They tried to play heavily into her supposed guilt from what Rowan was going through all because of her. They failed. Just like how they wouldn’t use Seres against Rowan, Rowan made sure that she wouldn’t be used against Seres. It was a simple solution, really, and one that Seres was receptive to. Talking, just like Amran had suggested. He remained as the stoic observer of the cell, always watching and waiting with a perfect clarity of mind.

Rowan had also spent those years being a surrogate for Seres’ mother when it came to helping through the same challenges she had gone through and was continuing to go through in regards to growing up. Both girls garnered more and more interest from the other denizens of the cell. As time went on, however, that number became less and less as more people fell. The intake of new captives slowed down massively after the end of the third year, after all. Even with new people coming to the caves, most didn't last more than a few months. The lucky ones lasted a year and the extremely hardy ones continued to hold strong.

Throughout the rest of the world, things were changing. Seres’ capture had led to thorough investigations into the raider activity on Llen Fær and the surrounding islands. Even the Azure King of Særis started to devote resources away from the Ferran border with the Ru’eni Empire to the south to look into the disappearances at the behest of Queen Elarin of House Lanafae. Even though she had managed to wipe the raider threat from her home, Queen Elarin cursed herself for not noticing it sooner, for letting her daughter travel into such dangers. It didn’t matter that the raiders had been concealing their tracks extremely well before then or that their extremely overt raids from that year was a new behaviour. It was her failure as a Queen, and she wouldn’t rest until her daughter had been returned to her.

Matching Queen Elarin’s wrath, the Chain of Fire had awakened when Rowan evoked the Goddess’ name. Earthquakes and volcanic eruptions were becoming more and more common in the north around Llen Færa and Særis, as were extremely violent storms. Rowan had sworn an oath and the Goddess and Illyria would do what they could to ensure that she had a chance of making it come to pass. Alas, the gods could not easily make such big changes in such a short amount of time. All they could do was set things in motion. After that, it was a matter of time. So they waited and bridged the gap between Rowan and the family she had lost. They would give her the strength she needed when the time came.

When the day finally came, Rowan was ready.

Chapter 12: Loss

For two weeks, the Silent Sisters continued to torture Rowan, trying to break her, and for two weeks, they failed. Amran remained strong of mind in the face of adversity, as always. With Seres, they had slowly started introducing more and more physical elements to her torment. Somewhat fortunately, though, she had been managing relatively well, all things considered. She had made sure to follow Amran’s advice and it had clearly helped her. Rowan was also glad for the conversation. Anri, however, continued to deteriorate.

Rowan felt like she was failing as a friend as she found herself unable to support Anri in any meaningful way. Their conversations only provided her with some small relief that barely lasted. It was as if that small bit of positivity pushed her enough over a lip of depression to fall down into a deeper pit of despair. She wanted to do more for Anri, but everything else she had went to resisting her own torment at the hands of the torturers.

On the fifteenth day, the schedule changed. The Wardens arrived that morning and took Rowan, Anri, Amran, and around half of the other prisoners away. The Næmyrans and those who had been tortured the day before were left behind, along with a couple of others, including Seres.

Rowan hadn't really considered it before, but with the exception of her first week as well as that of the other Næmyrans, there would be days in which the Wardens would show up a further two times throughout the day to collect and return a large group of the prisoners much like they were doing that particular day. Rowan hadn’t really paid attention to it because none of the new arrivals were ever part of the group.

Now she was in a position where she wished she had thought about it more. The more she thought about it, the more she realised that there were quite a lot of things that she hadn’t considered. Up until then, she had only ever been taken away at noon, but that was only one of three times that people tended to get taken away. They would also take a small group away at the same time that they brought in the meal for that day. Whatever happened to that smaller group would continue to remain a mystery. For now, however, she was about to get a different set of answers to questions she had never thought to ask.

They were taken to a large cavernous chamber lit with crystals of myriad hues, all blending together to give off a soft ambient light. It was by far the largest chamber in the caves that she had seen, barring the cavern she had arrived in. The chamber had been divided into quadrants with a large amphitheatre in the centre where everyone had been gathered.

Almost five hundred prisoners from all throughout the caves had been thrown into the amphitheatre. Rowan could see all the blood that had seeped deeply into the dirt floor of the amphitheatre; it was a combat arena. Her face blanched at the thought of how much blood it would take to stain the dirt so thoroughly.

The wardens started to divide everyone into five equally sized groups. Those in Rowan’s group were kept in the amphitheatre while the others were taken to the four quadrants. As they were directed away, Rowan and the rest of her group were given new clothes and ordered to change. A whip was cracked at the feet of any who refused which, combined with a large detachment of well-armed guards watching over the amphitheatre, convinced even the most adamant to listen to the command. Rowan, resolute in her defiance, was amongst the last of the prisoners to change.

Some, however, didn't need convincing; well-groomed individuals, compared to the other slaves at least, who stood with purpose. The outfits they were forced to change into were little more than sturdy form-fitting vests and a loincloth. Some of the older prisoners had shorts or trousers of a similar construction to the vests instead of the loincloths.

While everyone was changing, a caged weapons rack was brought into the amphitheatre. The weapons confirmed everyone’s growing suspicions that they would be made to fight. A small part of Rowan wanted to encourage everyone to rush the cage.

Thankfully, the rest of her crushed the highly suicidal notion before it could gain any traction. Even if she could get every single prisoner in the chamber to take up arms, it would be suicide. The guards were simply too well prepared and focused, as well as armed to the teeth. She even discarded the idea of smuggling out a weapon. There was no way they wouldn’t be expecting that.

Before she could think of any other stupid ideas that could get her killed, a large and exceptionally well-decorated guard shouted, “Everyone, sit! Today marks yet another step in your paths to becoming weapons for The Good Masters. Those who refuse to fight will suffer great pain, either at the hands of your opponent or by the steel of the guards. Now ready yourselves for the first round of lots." With every word, his voice radiated throughout the cavern.

It quickly became apparent that the lots the guard mentioned were used to determine everyone's opponent as well as the nature of the engagement. Rowan's lot dictated that her first bout would be an unarmed fight against one of the individuals that Rowan was sure was a plant of some kind.

He was on the smaller side, but clearly better fed than everyone else. He seemed to be eyeing up one of the girls with a predatory gaze as he took position. Rowan couldn’t help but feel disgusted with her opponent and was concerned for the girl he had looked at. Her face was white with horror. As her opponent likely had a fair bit of experience from time spent in the amphitheatre, Rowan was being particularly cautious. She knew that he had the advantage, but she hoped her training and live combat experience would outweigh his own.

At the beginning of the fight, Rowan hesitated and she was instantly forced on the defensive. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to fight back, even if he was already on the other side, but then she remembered the guard’s words. Suffering more was not an option. Even so, the threat of harm was not enough to push her to fight back. Rather, it was the pleading look she received from the girl her opponent had ogled. Something terrible would happen if he won, that much was clear. Rowan couldn’t let that happen, so she started adding in some attacks in between her dodges.

It was an exhausting fight. As it dragged on, Rowan’s lack of any significant sustenance began to take its toll on her. The only thing that was keeping her from being outright defeated was her own training. She was notably more skilled than he was, but he was able to close the gap with raw strength, stamina, and aggression.

Every time she went on the offensive, she risked being overwhelmed and pummelled to the ground; a fate she didn’t want to share with those that had come before her. She needed to take a different approach to tip the scales back in her favour before she lost the war of attrition.

Think, Rowan! Think!

She wished she knew more about what she could do with her Ardent powers. Anger was out. Every time she drew on the heat of anger she grew tired even quicker. She didn’t really remember the day she Awakened well enough to even attempt to parse what was doing what. Then something clicked, a memory from before she had Awakened. The risk of what she was doing had always helped with her reactions and in training her muscle memory. That was the answer.

Anticipation.

Rowan dropped all pretence of a defence and faced him almost face-on with her hands down by her sides. It worked better than it probably should have, as it also incited his arrogance. He swung heavily at her head and overextended as Rowan danced under his arm.

Now facing him from behind, Rowan went to kick his legs from under him. However, in her haste, she kicked with much more force than necessary, causing her to miss her mark and strike the side of his knee instead. What followed was a resounding crack as the foot remained anchored in place and the leg collapsed inwards at the knee.

With the fight won, the overseer of the fight gave Rowan an expectant look, as if to say, "Go on, finish what you started." Instead, Rowan stood still, taking in several deep breaths.

The overseer's expression changed quickly as he held up three fingers and motioned to a guard. A whip cracked into Rowan's side.

Then again.

And again.

Three times the whip cracked, biting deeply. Winning clearly wasn't enough, they wanted more, they wanted to forge a viciousness into their weapons.

*****

The cycle of torment continued. Within another two weeks, Rowan had been shown everything that the caves had to offer and already, people were starting to fall to the hammer. One of the Næmyrans accepted Lord Fein’s offer almost instantly.

Even if Rowan didn’t know the girl, it hit her deeply. She couldn’t blame them, especially knowing the pain that the torture would have brought them. Even after a month under the crystalline needles of the Silent Sisters, there was no getting used to it. Even so, it was a loss worth lamenting as much as any other.

Thankfully, they weren’t tortured daily, but the cavern with the amphitheatre offered little respite. She hated being forced into the arena. Yes, she would fight when she needed to, especially against the people who had already fallen or took some perverse enjoyment from the fighting.

However, she refused to beat her opponents to a pulp like the wardens seemingly expected, even if it meant that she would be lashed or would suffer more the next day. She felt like doing so would just serve to bring her closer to their ideal. Instead, she intended to use the arena to train up her body and her skills so that one day, she’d be able to fight back against her captors.

Likewise, she intended to fully capitalise on the rest of what the exercise cavern, as she and Seres had dubbed it, had to offer. Granted, it wasn’t like she had much of a choice. None of them did. Any and all failure to comply would result in several lashings at the very least.

Fortunately, all the other activities weren’t dependent on fighting others, though Rowan highly suspected that those who performed less well were punished for it. Those suspicions were all but confirmed when Anri was having significant difficulty in following along with some combat training in the plainest of the four quadrants. She cried for an entire day when she was released from the torture that followed.

The exception to the whole thing seemed to be Seres. A few days after the rest of the Næmyrans arrived, they started bringing her torment to the same level as everyone else.

However, they rarely brought her to the exercise cavern. Even after a full month of the exercise cavern being in the rotation, she had only ever been there a grand total of three times compared to Rowan’s seven and Anri’s six.

At first, Rowan just thought that Seres was being taken while she was being tortured, but Seres had confirmed it herself that she had only been there once when neither Rowan, Amran, or Anri had been there to see.

Instead of the exercise cavern, Seres was typically, discounting torture days and rest days, taken at the start of the day. This was by far the smallest of the three main groups that were taken throughout the day. It also had a purpose that Rowan hadn’t expected.

Teaching.

It was such a simple thing and it completely blindsided her. They had a weirdly well-functioning school system and Rowan couldn’t understand why. They would sort everyone into groups that actually suited their individual learning styles and then divide them even further down based on their own intellectual abilities and acumen.

She and her friends were given a curriculum centred around combat strategy, tactics, and theory and supplemented by a more general education. They were also given extensive lessons on Særan geography and politics. Beyond that, Rowan wasn’t sure if everyone else was taught similar things, but she was able to form a solid idea of who it was they were supposed to be fighting. It was tough. They were tested ruthlessly at the higher levels and Seres was at the top. For some reason, they were more interested in training her mind than they were training her physically.

*****

On one rare afternoon when Seres had been sent to the exercise cavern with everyone else, Rowan was assigned to, by far, the strangest of the four quadrants. It was a labyrinth of jagged stone, which gave it the appearance of a gaping demonic maw or the back of a monstrous leviathan.

The objective seemed simple enough; navigate the labyrinth and get to the other side unscathed. Of course, it was anything but simple as it was laden with traps and sharp rocks, and you had to get a significant distance from your starting point, which was also easier said than done.

To make matters worse, everyone was encouraged to make it harder for everyone else, and whoever was last would get a number of lashes based on their performance. Everything was a contest designed to forge vicious warriors, after all.

In spite of all that, Rowan was actually growing to like it. That is to say, she would have absolutely loved this kind of exercise in any other circumstance. Instead, it was tainted by the bitterness of pain and torture. Even so, that wasn’t actually enough to completely sour her enjoyment of it and she was one of the best at it. Granted, she had the unfair advantage of having already Awakened, but she wasn’t the only one, though she was one of the few that hadn’t been broken.

From what Rowan could tell, less than one in five of the people that Awakened remained unbroken for any meaningful amount of time. However, one thing that did strike her as odd was that there was, at most, no more than ten percent of the group that had Awakened. It was as if most of the Awakened were shipped off somewhere else once they were broken.

This time in the labyrinth, something unexpected happened. Running through the jagged maze and narrowly missing a trap, Rowan caught a glimpse of some long brown hair touched with gold.

It couldn’t be.

But, what if it was?

Rowan’s heart was racing. She had put all hopes of seeing Kiriin behind that she hadn’t even considered it a possibility, She hadn’t even bothered looking for her amongst the other prisoners. Yet here she was, convinced by what was probably just a random person. Then she heard two voices cry out from behind a few nearby rocks. It was in the direction that the hair was going. Rowan hurried over to see Seres on her backside, and standing in front of her was a girl with long brown hair.

“K-Kiriin?” Rowan asked hesitantly.

The girl started to turn around but all Rowan could hear was Seres. “Owie! Sorry, I didn’t mean to run into you. Oh, hi, Rowan. What’s with the face? Do you know this person?”

Before Rowan could say anything, the girl jumped right into her arms and hugged her with tears streaming down the girl’s face.

“Rowan! It is you, isn’t it? I’m not hallucinating, am I? I’ve missed you so much.” Rowan had her answer, and as she hugged Kiriin back, Kiriin had hers.

“I’m so lost,” Seres said, still on the ground and looking at the two childhood friends.

“Sorry, Seres. Um, this is Kiriin. We grew up together and we were kind of…”

“In love,” Kiriin interrupted with a melancholic laugh.

“That’s great,” Seres responded. “Hello, I’m Seres. I arrived at the same time as Rowan.”

“Seres?” Kiriin asked, a few cogs turning in her head. “As in Lanafae?”

“Um…”

“I knew it. You’re the princess, aren’t you? You’re the reason why the raiders are pulling out.”

“I don’t think this is the time for this conversation, Kiriin.”

“What do you mean, Rowan? Also, since when did the second princess look like she could be related to you? I swear it would only take some Ferran ears for the two of you to look like you could be sisters. If I didn’t…”

“Kiriin!” Rowan interrupted her very excited friend. “If we don’t get out now, they’re going to punish us real bad.”

Seres’ ears drooped at the mention of punishment and a look of realisation crossed Kiriin’s face. “Oh,” she said once she understood what Rowan was saying.

“Rowan’s right. I don’t want to ruin your reunion, but can we talk later?”

After acknowledging the truth of the matter, the three girls parted ways and rushed to find their respective exits. Unfortunately, they hadn’t been quick enough and they each received thirteen lashes. After that, they sought each other out again to finish their reunion, with Seres acting as sort of a fifth wheel. Fortunately, she was significantly more wanted than a fifth wheel usually would be.

Seres was crying as they sat down, and she was cradling the end of her tail in her hands. “They got my tail,” she sobbed. It was fairly common knowledge the Ferran tails housed a surprising number of nerves, and Seres’ was clearly bleeding from where the whip had cut into it.

“I could stab those bastards,” Rowan growled.

“Is it always this bad?” Kiriin winced.

“Worse,” Rowan spat.

“They’ve never lashed me before,” Seres cried.

“I’m sorry, it was my fault,” Kiriin apologised.

“No, I should have realised this would have happened. I’m the one with the experience. Can you forgive me, Seres?”

“You don’t need to apologise,” Seres sniffed in response. Rowan gave her a gentle hug.

“You two really do look like sisters. Is Tehri okay? I haven’t seen her.”

“I helped her escape. They were going to kill her and then I Awakened. I’m an Ardent, Kiriin. I couldn’t let them hurt her, so I killed them.”

“Oh, Rowan, I’m so sorry.”

“I’d do it again and again if I had to. I just hope she’s safe.”

“I’m sure she is,” Seres said.

“What about Kyr? Is he here?”

“He was. We were being sorted out in that chamber when we arrived. He was examined just before I was. They said he had no worthwhile Potential, so that man, Fein, said that he would be shipped off to the Ru’eni or something.”

“That makes no sense. Surely they would have found some use for him? It’s not like he’s useless or anything.”

“Why are you getting upset about your friend not being turned into a slave?”

“Because he’s just going to be enslaved in another part of the continent and because now I won’t be able to break him out when I’m strong enough.”

“You aren’t seriously planning on breaking out, are you?”

“Along with you, Seres, Anri, Amran, and anyone else I can.”

“That’s a goal I can aspire to,” Kiriin responded.

“Me too,” Seres added quietly.

“Have you been holding up okay?”

“Barely. It’s been so difficult without you or Kyr around. I’ve been so lonely, And I miss Mum and... Oh, Goddess.”

Rowan hugged Kiriin as she broke down into tears. “It’s okay. Kiriin. I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere.”

*****

Some time later that evening, one of the ‘prisoners’ walked into Lord Fein’s office. “Hrofen reporting in as requested, sir. I believe I have some information about the Ardent girl you asked me to keep an eye on. It has become clear to me that she is close to a Næmyran girl from Cell 5; a human girl with brown hair named Kiriin. It seems likely that if we keep them separated, this Kiriin will quickly fall to your hammer, and it will also help in the breaking of the Ardent girl. The warden on duty for the Labyrinth today also overstepped his bounds and had the princess lashed alongside the Næmyran and the Ardent. Thus concludes my report, sir!”

Fein looked up from his desk with a sinister grin. “Thank you very much, Hrofen. This information will be very useful going forward. As a reward, find a boy or girl that is to your liking from Cell 13. You can do what you want with them until they break or get shipped out to the Ru’eni Empire.”

“Yessir!” Hrofen saluted and turned on his heel. When he left, Lord Fein started making notes in his journal. He saw an opportunity to fell three birds with one stone.

*****

After being finally reunited with Kiriin, Rowan didn’t see her again for another three weeks and even then, it was only at a distance. On that day, the inevitable happened. Rowan had been paired against Anri in the amphitheatre. To make matters worse, they had been armed with knives and it was a fight to first blood. The overseer wouldn’t be satisfied until one or both of them were bleeding.

Despite knowing what the Wardens and overseer expected, and also the consequences for not meeting those expectations, Rowan could not bring herself to act. Anri was similarly frozen, tears rolling down her cheeks. When it was clear they weren't going to act, the guards moved to strike the two of them with their whips. As Anri was struck, the guard holding the whip seemed to wince as she cried out, whereas Rowan fell to a single knee from pain as the whip bit into her flesh.

Tears continued to stream down Anri's face. "Please, just let this end!" she sobbed. "I hate it! I hate it! I hate it!"

Rowan hesitated as she saw Anri's face contorted from all the pent-up pain and torment she was suffering. "Anri, calm down. It's going to be okay."

The whips cracked again.

Anri screamed again. "No, it isn't! It's not going to end, not ever," she cried before her voice fell to a whisper, "is it?"

"I'm sure it will," Rowan replied, trying to comfort Anri.

'I-I-I just want to go home," Anri whimpered.

The guards readied their whips again, pausing only due to a sudden motion from Anri as she turned to the Wardens and shouted, "If it's blood you want, you can have it!" Then, as if out of nowhere, she slashed her knife straight across her arm, Rowan looking on in horror.

A crimson tide flowed from the deep gash. Within seconds another gash opened up, alarming the Wardens significantly. "Stop her!" one of them shouted, urgency weighing heavily on his voice.

Guards rushed in as another cut opened up on Anri's arm, and then another. With each new cut, another soon followed, quicker than the last. It wasn't long until the flow of blood started to spray down on the amphitheatre.

Anri looked at her arm with abject horror while Rowan stood mortified as her friend's arm disintegrated from a thousand cuts propagating through to the shoulder. Rowan saw Anri's eyes grow unfocused and all of the colour in her skin faded away, first turning white before quickly becoming a sickly grey.

Anri collapsed as the first guard reached her. Seeing the state of her arm, they looked up to the warden and shook their heads. She had lost too much blood, and preventing any more loss would be nigh impossible.

Rowan stumbled forward towards Anri, falling to her knees. Her legs and hands were soon painted red by the pool of blood forming from Anri's mangled arm.

"Someone do something!" Rowan cried.

"Why? She is beyond saving," the guard responded.

"No, that cannae be. The cuts have stopped, so there's gotta be a chance."

This time the overseer replied, "Even if we could save her, that arm is forfeit. Without it, she would make for a most defective weapon. Someone clean this up and inform Lord Fein."

"Yessir!" several guards saluted simultaneously, before unceremoniously removing Anri's body.

The overseer then turned back to Rowan, "And you, girl, what shall we do with you? This loss is, after all, clearly due to your failure to act. Had you been the one to make the cut, you would have been victorious and her hate would have lashed back at you. Instead, you let her cut herself and the hate had nowhere to go other than inwards. What a terrible friend you are. We must have you punished. Tell me, girl, the Silent Sisters are in charge of your forging, correct?"

"Fuck off, you heartless bastard, or Goddess help me, I'll gut you."

"I'll take that as a yes. Take her away."

Chapter 11: Pain

Three days had passed since Anri returned to the cell and Rowan was almost entirely healed. It had only been seventeen days since the strange symbol had been carved into her back. To think that such a large wound would heal without any serious complications was the definition of a fool’s dream, let alone having it also heal at such an incredible rate. Only one of her compatriots had fallen to infection and a further two were healing even faster than she was.

One of the boys who had reached the same point as Rowan was now on the eleventh day and another on the thirteenth. It was from them that Rowan knew that the time for her torment was upon her. They also brought into question Rowan’s original hypothesis that her Awakening was responsible for the accelerated healing. It was only after talking to Amran that Rowan recalled the scars on her back and the images they conjured within her mind, namely the design that she was tentatively dubbing the Tree of Life.

In the end, the reason didn’t really matter much as the final result was the same regardless. At noon that day, the moment she had been waiting for in grim trepidation had finally arrived in the form of wardens carrying chains and manacles. They took her away through the labyrinthine caves.

How anyone could navigate them was beyond her. She had only been in the caves a few times and she had either been barely lucid or was going to and from the medical chambers which were relatively nearby. This time, however, Rowan was able to fully take in the sheer scale of the maze-like structure and awe-inspiring array of crystals that lined the caves. In almost any other context, the crystalline chambers would have been beautiful. In truth, however, Rowan felt all the pain and despair of the caves Resonate from within them.

It's gotta be a placebo.

There's no way it’s real.

It cannae be possible.

But maybe it is?

Maybe the crystals are part of the torment?

Paranoia gripped Rowan and her thoughts began to race. For eleven days, she had managed to stop herself from being overwhelmed by fear. In the cell, she felt a small sense of security, as it shielded her from being made to suffer any further. She used that superficial shield to hide from the full extent of her grief and terror.

The tentative bonds she had formed with her three new friends of circumstance helped with fighting away the crippling loneliness that had been creeping up on her. Now she had been stripped of the security of the cell and the companionship of her friends.

Rowan’s senses exploded from the proverbial slap in the face as the immediacy of the suffering that was about to befall her stripped away all the small deceptions she had wrapped around herself. Every footstep became a deafening cacophony; every glint of a candle as blinding as the sun and every scent a dizzying concoction of soap, perfume, stone, and bodies ranging from sterile cleanliness to putrid sweat.

As Rowan’s senses pummelled her mind with a thousand sensations, she dropped into a ball and clenched her eyes shut. She tried to cover her ears as well, though the chains that bound her wrists made it so that she practically had to choke herself to reach them.

"Move!" a bellowing voice demanded from behind her as someone grabbed her by the shirt and jerked her back to her feet. Pain rippled from where the coarse fabric dug into her flesh.

Oh gods, it hurts!

Never before had Rowan experienced this level of sensory overload and it terrified her even more. The fear served only to further amplify her senses.

“I said, ‘Move!’” the voice bellowed again, followed this time by someone pushing her forward. Rowan fell to the ground, once again setting her nerves on fire with pain as she cried out in agony.

Someone. Please. Help me.

“Hah,” one of the guards laughed, “If she’s like this on her first day, she’ll be broken in no time.”

“Ro…”

“Assuming someone this weak-willed will be of any use to the boss,” replied another guard as the first got Rowan moving again.

“...’re... lon…”

Amidst the overly loud exchange between the guards and wardens, a whisper reached Rowan. She only managed to catch the odd fragment in between the small breaks in conversation.

“...I’m here with you.”

The whisper came again, this time a full sentence. The voice was strange, yet weirdly familiar. It was that of a young girl, who sounded as if she was a similar age to Rowan. Furthermore, she spoke in Midiran and used the same accent that Rowan had inherited from her mother. Rowan tried to find the source of the voice to no avail.

“I’ve always been with you.”

It was strange. The voice had no direction, and it wasn't deafening like all the other sounds around her. It was as if the voice was coming from within her head. No, that wasn’t quite right. It was within her very soul.

“Be strong, sister.”

Sister?

It didn’t seem possible. Rowan had no sister here, she had made sure of that, and the voice was wrong for Tehri anyway. The only other sister Rowan was aware of was her twin, Rina, but she had long since passed from this world and Rowan lacked the gift that would let her speak to the dead.

Why does Rina make less sense than Tehri?

It didn't really; both options were similarly impossible. Even so, the idea that Rina was there by her side was a small comfort amidst the cacophony of pain. It was also preferable to the budding fear that she had failed Tehri yet again.

With a flicker of hope, Rowan tried talking to the voice in her soul. No luck, Rowan's voice couldn't reach her. The voice of who she believed to be Rina, however, could still, to an extent, make the journey across the unknowable expanse, and each word and sentence that made it helped form a tiny fragment of strength for Rowan to hold onto.

She still couldn't explain what was happening, but the melancholic connection helped to lift her falling heart. Unfortunately, it had also, once again, stopped her tracks. Rowan wasn't quite sure what happened next. The only thing she was certain of is that one guard pushed, and another pulled.

Fuck!

Rowan let out a silent, yet audible cry. She was pulled into a room and Rina said some last words of comfort before falling silent. The guards started stripping her much like she had been when the man, who she believed to be an Al’duur, had carved the symbols into her back.

Once she was deprived of almost all of her clothes, the guards left her in the company of three grim figures. A man stood before her, dressed in fine clothing of a deep azure blue. Rowan recognised him from the day she arrived. He had been there when they were sorted into groups. This time, however, he was flanked by two women wearing dark, blood-red robes and he was looking straight into her eyes.

Rowan quickly turned away, trying to hide her body. There was no one else in the room other than herself, the man, and his attendants.

She wanted to run, but her hands and feet were still bound. And even if they weren’t, it would have been a futile endeavour. With her fear-enhanced senses, she could hear a significant amount of activity in the caves beyond and that was all before considering that she still had no idea how to navigate the caves.

This is wrong.

"Hello there, little lady," the well-dressed man said from behind her, his voice possessing a quality as genteel as his appearance. "My name is Lord Fein, overseer of this facility. May you grace me with your name?"

Rowan looked over her shoulder at the man. “Can I have my clothes back first?” she asked, trying to mask the shame and discomfort.

“They shall be returned to you soon enough. However, I would still appreciate your name before we continue to converse.”

“You cannae be serious, acting all polite like that whilst leering at me. I can tell you think I’m beneath you or something.” Rowan tried to bite back with her words, drawing on whatever fragmented emotional strength Rina had given her to keep her fear and despair at bay. The effect was notably lessened by her attempts to hide her body from the man.

Rowan felt wrong. The man felt wrong. Everything felt wrong.

“While it is true that a great canyon lies between us in terms of status, we should not let that fact leave us bereft of our manners.”

“Last time I checked, it was bad manners to strip someone without their consent.”

Lord Fein seemed to smile smugly as he responded, “We did ask and you did not resist. I must say, this exchange would have been much easier if you had remained docile.”

Rowan didn’t remember being asked, and she certainly didn’t answer. “You’re sick!” she exclaimed, a look of horror painted on her face.

“I prefer to think of myself as more pragmatic. If you don’t give me a name, I cannot offer you any reprieve. Instead, I will have to leave you to your fate.”

As Lord Fein continued to speak, he came across as more and more of a monster. Even the ship doctor Luut with his hollow voice seemed less depraved. If anything, Fein’s courteous and personable demeanour made him all the more monstrous. This man spoke with a silver tongue coated in fool’s gold.

“I-I’m not scared of whatever you plan on doing to me,” Rowan responded with a few quivering notes of hesitation.

“Please, I’ve already heard of your episode in the caves. Fear already seeps through your every pore. Furthermore, instead of facing me, you cower. I can, however, grant you release from that fear.”

“Fine! I’ll tell you, but dinnae expect me to go along with whatever you’re plannin’ to offer me. My name’s Rowan.”

“A beautiful name,” Fein replied.   “And, I am merely offering you a way across the canyon that separates you and the other slaves from what some would call freedom. If…”

“Some?” Rowan interrupted. “Sounds like a loose definition. And you call us slaves, yet last time I checked, slaves were made to do gruelling tasks and the like.”

“It is true that that is the path that most slaves follow, we have a different purpose in mind for this operation. If you just agree to work for us, you will be spared all the pain that awaits you.”

“I’d rather die than work for you,” Rowan spat defiantly.

Though she knew it was futile, she coiled her body and tried to launch herself at Lord Fein, hoping to maybe catch him off guard and strangle him. In the blink of an eye, one of the robed women stepped between Rowan and Fein. Before Rowan could react, air fled her lungs and she was flying across the chamber. The woman had kicked Rowan in the ribs with blinding speed.

“It seems you are set in your ways,” Fein responded, brushing some dust off of his shoulder. “A truly regrettable decision.” He seemed genuinely disappointed by Rowan's rejection of his offer.

“I wish you had declined in a way that did not risk you suffering physical harm. I do hate my future weapons experiencing more pain than is necessary. Alas, it is clear that I must wait to temper your steel. Until then, this room shall be your forge and these fine women shall be your smiths. I leave you in their care.”

With seemingly nothing more to add, he turned away, breaking eye contact of his own accord for the first time during the whole exchange. The confidence he expressed as he made his way to the exit made it clear that he didn't feel in any way threatened by Rowan.

He did, however, pause slightly at the door. “One last thing,” he said before making his exit, “try not to fight back. The ladies are trained to combat Ardents and you simply lack the energy to threaten either of them, let alone both at the same time.”

The door closed and the still-winded Rowan was dragged up by the robed women and onto a table much like the one from the scarring ritual. Once Rowan was strapped in, one of the robed women brought over a tray lined with various crystal spikes and needles while the other started lighting incense around the room.

Every inch of Rowan’s back tingled uncomfortably as the weird heady aroma filled her nostrils. The wispy tendrils of smoke went on to claw at her eyes, reaping away her tears and distracting her momentarily from the Light Array being placed before her. Now she had little choice other than to look at it. Her only escape from it was to clamp her eyes shut as it consumed her vision.

Rowan feared their preparations were coming to a close when they gagged her and caught a glimpse of the gloves one of them was wearing and the crystalline array that had been sewn into the fabric.

She braced herself for what came next as the Light Array started to move, creating a disorienting assortment of colours. The light was accompanied by an awful droning sound punctuated by an intermittent and slightly irregular pulse of a low drum. There was no rest for Rowan’s overwhelmed senses as the visceral combination of stimuli bit into her lingering fear.

When a cold crystalline shard touched down on the bare flesh of Rowan’s back, just between the shoulder blades, she was, all things considered, pleasantly surprised. The sensation was a lot tamer than she was expecting, even with the sensory overload. If this was the best they had…

Agony.

The fleshy canvas of Rowan’s body was punctured by countless needles, each one bringing a whole new meaning to the word “pain”. Words alone could not describe the agony she felt in that moment. Not even the fear-ridden pain she had suffered earlier could compare.

This entire time, Rowan had been wondering why practically everyone returned with relatively few injuries despite carrying such pain in their eyes. Now she knew. These monsters had found a way to cause pain without causing any apparent external harm. It just radiated through every inch of her mind, body, and soul. And whenever Rowan felt like she was getting even slightly used to the pain, the robed women would tap on a needle causing a burst of pain to emanate from it or they would twist one which would send ripples of shock through her body. When that didn’t work, or even just because, they would change the orientation of crystals and needles to completely change the nature of the pain entirely; from burning to stabbing to freezing to electrifying.

The needles were only the beginning of the torment. With the different crystals at their disposal, the women were able to cause Rowan to suffer in uncountable ways. They were able to enhance her feelings of hunger, making her absolutely ravenous. Alternatively, they could alter her sensitivity to temperature, rendering her painfully aware of the bone-chillingly cold air of the chamber.

They could even strip away any and all of her strengths; going from agonising pain to feelings of sickness and lethargy. It was as if they were trying to say, “With these crystals, we are the masters of your body,” and they did it all in complete silence. The only sounds in the room were Rowan’s cries and the ever-present droning.

As Rowan’s torture continued, time became meaningless to her. The droning, pain and lights all weighed down heavily on her, trying to eat away at her will. Nothing could have prepared her for this horror.

This is too much. I-I cannae do it. I cannae…

I cannae give up!

Rowan understood now. Almost painfully so. She understood why people would be tempted by Lord Fein’s offer; why they would want to escape this pain. She knew that if she wasn’t careful, she would also be tempted to do the same. However, she dared not let it come to that. She had made a promise to Tehri that she would return to her and Rowan refused to break that promise.

We’ve lost too much. I will not let us lose each other as well.

Amidst all the pain, Rowan tried to think. Her torturers made sure she had not a single moment of relief and focusing on anything other than her torment was nigh impossible.

How could she overcome this pain? Amran had his ways, but he had already said how such methods wouldn’t work for an Ardent. He had mentioned how she leaked emotional intensity.

That’s it! I’ve just got to overwhelm the pain and torment with even stronger feelings.

Rowan drew on all of the emotional strength she could muster to remember anything she could to awaken any feeling that the women weren’t trying to carve into her being, be it joy, love, or even sadness.

If this is to be my forge then so be it. Let ‘em forge me into the weapon that’ll destroy them.

*****

Rowan was exhausted beyond compare when the torture finally came to an end. In her weakness, they dragged her back to the cell. It had taken everything she could muster to fight the pain and overwhelm it with even stronger feelings. She protected herself by turning her mind and soul into a maelstrom of emotion. Now all she could do was collapse into a cot, her eyes too heavy to see the new arrivals.

The cell was dark when Rowan woke up several hours later. She tried to find her friends. It didn't take long to find Amran as he slept against the far wall. Anri and Seres, however, were nowhere to be seen.

I was gone for too long. They’re already gone. I just hope they’re okay. Please don’t make them go through what I just did. I dunno if they can handle it.

There wasn't much that Rowan could do for the two girls now, at least not until they returned; if they returned. Rowan wasn't sure which would be the better option. Out of the two of them, Rowan was most fearful for Anri. She had already suffered greatly and it would be so easy for her to accept the offer.

Perhaps then she wouldn’t need to suffer. But it would also mean joining them and fighting in whatever war they were planning. Or perhaps the end goal was even more nefarious. After all, Lord Fein seemed like his words were far too honeyed to not be dripping with a sweet and seductive poison.

Even if he was genuine in his lament of the suffering of 'his' slaves, it was impossible to deny that suffering was at the core of this operation and it went much deeper than the suffering of said slaves. Everyone involved would suffer, be it the slaves, their families, or the people that they would be wielded against. Rowan just prayed that the operation would ultimately fail before it was too late and that everyone would gain their freedom.

As for Seres, Rowan hoped that her identity would hold them back. Whatever they had planned would probably be hindered greatly if they used an actual princess. Rowan was sure that Seres’ capture had been a massive mistake on the part of the raiders. On the other hand, it might not even matter. It all depended on who the so-called “good lords” were and who they intended to go to war against.

Maybe they’d find a way to ransom her off.

But, that’s probably really risky for them. She knows too much.

At least they won’t kill her. Will they?

Shit!

So many possibilities and there was little Rowan could do about any of them. All she could really do was to be there for the girls when they came back.

*****

For hours Rowan grew restless, finding herself unable to sleep and without anything to occupy her mind in the long hours until morning. With everyone asleep, time dragged and the walls of the cell closed in, leaving Rowan claustrophobic. To fight that feeling, she sang quietly to herself; one of the old songs, just like her mother used to. It wasn't much, but it helped her feel less alone, almost as if she was once again in her mother's embrace.

The feeling of comfort was short-lived as a small whimper interrupted Rowan's song. At first glance, Rowan didn’t recognise the crying prisoner. He lay on the floor with his back to Rowan, the bandages making it clear that he was a new arrival.

Rowan walked softly over to him to see if he was okay. When she reached his side, her eyes opened wide; the boy was from Næmyris and he wasn’t one of the ones that had arrived with her. Rowan didn’t know him well, but she did recognise him. He was the son of The Crimson Drakiir Inn’s proprietor. It looked like he was still sleeping. Perhaps he cried because the song reminded him of home.

Why is he here? Why is anyone from Næmyris here? It’s been weeks since the attack. I thought we were the only ones.

Question after question popped into Rowan’s mind. It gave her a weird sense of deja vu. She had been asking the same questions when she had arrived. The only difference was that back then, she was asking them because there were far too few people from Næmyris. She had hoped that it hadn’t been that bad and she foolishly pushed the questions to the back of her mind. Of course, the raiders had split into smaller parties to avoid detection or risking the entire catch if one of the groups were followed. The ship captain had even told Malin that they had arrived early.

Rowan thought about it more and more. Discounting any naval travel, it had been around a month since she had been captured. Under normal circumstances, they shouldn’t have been this far behind. After all, even with Malin’s breakneck pace, there was a limit to how fast a horse could move. They couldn’t have been much more than a week ahead of schedule. Hopefully, some groups had been caught and that’s why they were delayed.

Rowan almost cried out in frustration before muttering to herself, "Why does my mind have to be as restless as my body?”

I just hope there wasn’t a second attack.

Needing answers, Rowan shook the innkeeper's son awake. "Hey, are you okay?" she asked as he wearily opened his eyes.

"W-what? Why? Who?" he stuttered in a confused fugue. "Wait. I know that hair. Miss Hæra's daughter? Why are you here? You weren't on the ship."

"Easy there," Rowan said softly, trying to remember his name. "I'm here to help."

"Truly? Or is the pain making me delirious?"

"It's okay, Ros," she said, her pitch rising towards the end, unsure if she got his name right, "I'm real. Do you remember my name?"

The boy gave her a look of recognition when Rowan spoke his supposed name. "Uh — Rowan, yes? How’d you recognise me? We’ve barely spoken.”

"It's not that impressive. You were able to recognise me just as easily."

“Well, your Mum was always performing at our inn and you really stand out with that hair.”

"You say that like we were the only redheads in town," said a slightly confused Rowan.

"Hardly, but you and your mother were particularly famous for it."

"We were?" Rowan exclaimed probably a little too loudly, surprise colouring the remark. "I never knew."

"I was also dreaming of one of the times that your mother performed at my family's inn for some reason."

"That'll probably be my fault. I couldnae sleep so I was singing a wee bit. But that's of no matter," Rowan said, moving on. "You asked why I'm here, aye? Same reason as you, most likely. I just got here sooner. Now, do you think you can answer some of my questions?"

Ros nodded with a look of pain. Rowan felt bad for getting him to move around..

"Okay, so how is it that you only just got here? I've been here for around three weeks already. There weren't any more attacks, were there?" Rowan realised she was probably speaking far too quickly, but her burgeoning emotions pushed the words out of her mouth.

"I only know of the eclipse attack," Ros responded, horror slowly flashing across his face as he recalled that night, "Oh gods, the eclipse. How could the Goddess let that happen?

"I dinnae ken, Ros. I wish I could say something that would make things easier for you, but I'm at a loss."

"I'm sorry, that was unfair of me. How have you coped with all this for three weeks?"

"You've experienced the worst of it until you heal up.” Rowan wasn’t sure if that was a cruel thing to say; she only hoped it would give him time to prepare.”Do you think you could answer my other question?"

"Right, yes. There was a storm, I think. They made us take shelter in some lowland base on the east side of the Kærinsiir Mountains. Then some massive confrontation happened between two of the raider groups. Something about a princess? Whatever it was, they said they were pulling out of the island after they were rid of us. I was so scared that they were going to kill us, but instead, they threw us onto those black ships around a week ago.”

It was a lot to take in. Unknowingly, Ros had pretty much confirmed Rowan’s suspicions about Seres disappearing causing problems for the raiders. She wasn’t, however, expecting that it would be enough to drive them off of the island. It was a silver lining of sorts, but it also meant that they would be focusing their efforts elsewhere. Rowan knew that she couldn’t worry about it so she asked her last question. "How many?"

"A hundred or so. Maybe more? I'm not sure."

"Thank you. Take the cot; it'll be better for your back.

*****

Morning eventually touched the crystals that lit the cell. The newly arrived Næmyran slaves woke slowly and painfully. Rowan noted five of them, including Ros, not that she really knew any of them. Though seeing them, she realised that she hadn’t asked about Kiriin or Kyr.

Why are they here? Do the groups have meanings or are they just random?

She was largely just prevaricating with the questions she kept asking herself. She didn’t have the answers and she would only learn if she asked the right people. Even so, she didn’t want to go back and ask Ros questions.

It felt too awkward after having already asked him so much and she didn’t feel comfortable enough asking the others. If she had realised sooner, she would have asked Ros before giving up her cot, but now she would need to wait. She just hoped that the two of them had managed to avoid capture, but she knew how unlikely it seemed, especially with Ros and the others being here.

Unfortunately, that still didn’t give her much hope of seeing them as she was still yet to encounter any prisoners from the other cells except on that first day when they had been divvied up. That was another reason why she didn’t want to ask about them.

As for the questions regarding the group divisions, she could only think of two people to ask; one who would know for sure and one who might know. Her options were Lord Fein and Amran respectively and she knew which one she preferred. Unfortunately, those weren’t the only questions she had.

Is it really only torture and endless days in these cells that await us in this hell? There must be something more. If only someone would answer my questions about what happens outside of the cell, even Amran gets obtusely tight-lipped when I ask anything about the operation.

As Rowan pondered, the wardens arrived, returning her two friends and a few others. Thankfully, Seres mostly just looked tired. Granted, there were some hints at the terror she must have seen or experienced. Rowan was still surprised at how well Seres appeared to be doing. Perhaps her hopes that Seres’ status would keep her at least somewhat safe had been answered.

Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for an ashen-faced Anri. Something was wrong. Even if Rowan could understand, having faced the torture herself, the cracks in Anri’s psyche tore at Rowan. It was horrifying to see. If anything, it seemed likely that this was the reason for the slight terror on Seres’ face as opposed to anything she had seen out there. To make matters worse, Rowan was at a loss for words, unable to think of what she could say to help her.

*****

The three girls sat in silence well into the day until they were disturbed by an unexpected individual. Amran stood over them with an almost unreadable expression. “I’m impressed. The mood has become so dour that it is almost tangible so I thought I would remind you three girls that talking isn’t an option.

“Trust me when I say that you are being less talkative than a babble of Stoics. Even now, I’ve said more than the three of you have said all day combined. So what do you say? Let’s talk.” They looked up at him, each one wearing a different flavour of confusion; Rowan wanted to object, Anri was aghast, and Seres almost looked thankful.

“Talk about what exactly?” Rowan eventually settled on asking.

“Anything,” Amran responded. “I’m not exactly an expert on conversation, but I hear it can work wonders when it comes to shifting moods.”

“What’s it like being a Stoic?” Seres asked before things could get awkward again.

“An interesting question and not an easy one to answer,” Amran said somewhat evasively. “I would say it is like having a different perspective on things. Of course, this is just my experience and it’s difficult to remember what it was like before my Awakening. It was two years ago after all.”

“Two years?” Rowan asked.

“Yes. I had been here for four months when it happened.”

Rowan gulped in response, but it was Anri who spoke next. “Does it get better?”

Neither of the girls was expecting it, but Amran was prepared for it. “Yes and no. It depends on the individual. For me, it has been fairly stable. If you want it to get better I will give you the same advice I gave Rowan. Be strong and talk to your friends. They can help you with your feelings. Not me, though. Not my strong suit.”

“Yet here you are offering advice,” Rowan remarked. “Still, he’s right, Anri. We’re here for you. Aren’t we, Seres?”

“Of course!”

“Thanks,” Anri replied sullenly. It almost sounded like there was a small improvement, but not much.

“Well, I don’t think we can go much further with that conversation,” Rowan said after a moment of silence. “What’s next?”

“What about the weather?” Seres joked.

It was enough to make Rowan crack a smile and she could swear that there was a slight upward turn. The humour was somewhat ruined yet also enhanced when Amran spoke up after glancing at the ceiling. “Grey, with light showers and some strong gusts coming in from the west.”

“How do you know that?” Anri asked.

“Yeah! Is it some Stoic power?” Rowan added.

“It must be. None of the Lunar Gifts provide weather detection abilities,” remarked Seres.

“I just listened and extrapolated from what the new arrivals were saying,” Amran responded with a slightly hurt expression.

“Oh,” the girls said back in disappointment.

The rather inane conversation continued for the rest of the day and Amran could sense significant improvements in Rowan and Seres. He hoped it was enough for Anri as well, but that would largely depend on the three girls going forward. Rowan, on the other hand, was sure that it had gone exceptionally well for Anri. She had smiled after all, which was a marked improvement. Rowan was smiling to herself as she settled down for the night when she remembered that she hadn’t asked Amran any of the questions she had been meaning to ask him.

Shit!

Interlude: A Silent Voice

For what felt like hours, Tehri ran, her body growing weaker with each passing moment. She was confused and terrified. Everything that had happened since she woke up made no sense. Cruel people had surrounded her while she lay with her hands bound and mouth gagged. They wanted to kill her or sell her and they nearly did when they dragged her away. Then Rowan appeared.

Sis saved me. She killed someone.

Because of Rowan, Tehri had been able to escape. But escape from what? The last thing she remembered was falling asleep before the eclipse. Maybe this was a nightmare? She wanted to be home, back with her mother and father and with her sister. If she was in a nightmare, she would wake up eventually. However, if it wasn’t, she had no choice but to run and find her way.

Where am I? This forest all looks the same.

It was getting harder and harder to keep running. Tehri lacked the athleticism that her siblings and mother possessed. Instead, she had been cursed with a weak constitution and emotions that swung on a pendulum. To make matters worse, the undergrowth clawed at her arms and legs, sapping her of what little strength she had.

I'm going to die.

However, light breaking through the trees in the distance granted her a small degree of hope. Drawing on everything she had left, Tehri sprinted blindly toward the light, oblivious to the sound of crashing water.

Tehri let loose a silent cry as she ran off the precipice she had failed to see. For a second, she lingered in the empty air before plummeting into the swirling flow of water beneath her. Almost instantly, she was caught in the wild and treacherous current of the river rapids. She struggled to keep herself above the surface as she was thrashed into the rocks, spun around, and ragged like a doll. Bones cracked and blood gushed. Every danger of the rapids competed to be the cause of Tehri's death. Each time she cried out in pain, the river sought out her lungs.

After a couple of agonising minutes, everything went dark.

*****

"Byrdin! Come quick!"

Byrdin, the young newlywed blacksmith, looked over to see his wife running towards him. "Hana, what's wrong?"

"There's no time for questions. Hurry up!"

It was rare to see Hana this riddled with worry. He placed down the knife he was polishing so that he could go to her. "Slow down. It can't be so bad that you can't catch a breath."

Instead of taking a second, she instead grabbed his hand and started pulling him towards the river bank. She was her father's daughter all right, as stubborn as the iron he had worked and strong enough to work the anvil herself. There’d be no stopping her, so Byrdin let himself get pulled along.

They soon arrived at the river. A young girl with strawberry blonde hair had been swept into the bank, her body broken. Immediately, Byrdin understood Hana's urgency; if the girl was alive, it would be a miracle.

Byrdin rushed over, expecting the worst. Instead, he detected a weak, faltering pulse. He was no doctor, but it was clear she didn't have much time. He cursed himself for not having anything clean that he could staunch the bleeding with.

"Hana, I need one of your sleeves. Then find the healer. We might still be able to save her."

Time was of the essence as Hana ripped off her sleeves and rushed off to find the village healer. Byrdin used the sleeve to apply pressure to the most serious of the girl's open wounds, whilst keeping an eye on her breathing, which was slow but relatively regular. He was unsure of what else to do; bleeding was one thing, but she clearly had broken bones, and water had likely made its way into her lungs.

Byrdin grew anxious with each passing moment, his heart beating like a drum as he feared that the girl wouldn't survive. It felt like an age had passed by the time Hana returned with the healer.

Looking up, Byrdin asked him, "Is there anything you can do?"

"I'll do what I can," he replied. "However, the skills required to treat the more serious injuries are beyond my ken: she likely needs a surgeon."

"So, there's no hope?" Hana asked, tears starting to well in her eyes.

"I didn't say that. I have poultices that will help with any external bleeding and a medicine that will slow down her metabolism and induce a long sleep in her. That may allow enough time to get her to a surgeon. As for the nearest branch of the College of Surgeons, you have two options. You can get to Tærin by river or Talaran by road. With Tærin, you can decrease the likelihood of causing further injury. However, you will need to wait for a boat and the journey itself will be slow. Talaran, on the other hand, is much closer, perhaps only two days in a wagon with good horses, but you’d be going towards the mountains. The risk for further injury will be much higher.”

The healer continued to explain things as he started some preliminary treatments. They then took her to the infirmary for more extensive treatment. She was given medicine to help encourage her body to replenish the blood that she had lost and poultices were applied to her various wounds. Finally, the medicine to place her into a medically-induced sleep was administered.

As the healer did his work, Byrdin and Hana were left with a terrible choice. If they took the girl to a surgeon, the cost of her treatment would fall on them. For a young newlywed couple, such a cost would leave them with almost nothing, if anything at all. On the other hand, if they didn't take her, her death would be on their hands. They would also need to work out what route would be best if they did decide to take her.

"What do we do?" they asked each other.

*****

A sterile white room; that is what Tehri saw when she woke up. Her eyes felt heavy and her head was spinning. Tehri remembered falling into a river and a few moments of chaos before blacking out. Now, she lay in this strange room, painfully aware of every facet of her body and of the fact that she wasn’t actually in any pain, instead feeling a weird discomfort.

To her side, Tehri heard some movement. She struggled to look in that direction when a young woman with light brown hair who Tehri didn’t recognise came into view carrying a bowl and a towel.

Seeing that Tehri was awake, the woman called out, “Doctor! Byrdin! She’s awake!” In response to her call, a young man with strong, muscular arms and a middle-aged woman with a pinched nose and glasses entered the room.

Looking at the three strangers, Tehri opened her mouth and went to ask, “Where am I?” only for no sound to escape her small lungs.

Chapter 10: Stoic Introductions

The days that followed Rowan’s rather awkward first encounter with the Ferran boy passed much as the rest had, except for the embarrassment that she felt towards the matter. After some encouragement from Anri and Seres, she worked up the courage to approach him again and apologise for her awkward behaviour.

This time, the boy was looking straight at Rowan when she approached. "I'm sorry about before," she apologised. "I know I was acting really strange with all those things I said. I hadn’t even introduced myself. I should probably do that now, shouldn’t I?” Rowan apologised again, looking slightly downcast. Then, before the boy could even blink, she looked up with a mercurial smile and offered her hand. “Let’s start over. Hello, I’m Rowan.”

"Hello, Rowan. I'm glad to see your cheeks are no longer the same colour as your hair. My…"

"My face wasnae that red!" Rowan interjected before he could continue, a slight blush rising in response.

"If you say so,” he responded again before continuing on to his own introduction. “My name is Amran,"

“Hey, that’s the same as my brother’s name! Well, middle name, but still!”

“It’s a fairly common name,” Amran replied somewhat dryly.

“You dinnae have to brush me off like that.”

“My apologies.”

“Well, you can apologise by answering my questions. Especially now that I’ve introduced myself.”

“I can do that.”

"First! Why are you always meditating?"

"It helps me focus."

"Focus on what?"

"Honing my emotions. It's a technique that I learned from a Kairosi Fire Monk that passed through my hometown before it was raided."

"A Kairosi Fire Monk? You’ve actually seen one? You’re sure?"

“As sure as can be.”

Rowan couldn’t help but give Amran a look of incredulity when she considered what he was saying. “But aren’t the Kairosi, like, really rare this far north? My Da told me he’s only seen a few, and they were all merchants. I was sure that the Fire Monks pretty much always stayed near the Ashen Eye, and that’s if they even exist.”

“You clearly know more of their existence than I,” Amran replied. “That is to say, before he arrived, I believed that the Fire Monks were merely legendary warriors from Terian’el with skin like obsidian. I didn’t even know what they were capable of or how they got their name. I’m not sure that I will continue to think of them as legends now that I have met one.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“Because, while he was certainly impressive, imposing even, he still struck me as just a man. True, he looked vastly different from what I was familiar with, but that is the nature of people, is it not? To be different? Perhaps if I had seen what he could do without seeing the man, I would think differently. But that is not how things developed and now I owe him more than my life for his teachings. It is through his techniques that I have survived this long.”

“How long is that?” Rowan was almost scared to ask, but she couldn’t help herself. She needed to know.

“I would say at least two years. Time is difficult to follow down here.”

“I can imagine,” Rowan replied glumly. “Was it the Fire Monk who made you do that pain test thing? Why would he do that?

“Not exactly. As far as I’m aware, he was a travelling hierophant, giving advice and teaching people about the world whilst helping people for food and board. I found him interesting, so I asked if he would be willing to teach me a few things. He obliged and started by teaching me about the Fire Monks.

“I was positively intrigued and hungered to learn more. That was when my lessons regarding certain Kairosi techniques began. It was almost as if he had some foresight of what was to come, not that I believe he is in any way involved with this operation. However, he never actually gave me the trial of pain. He merely mentioned that it is a maxim that he followed. I made the choice to personally follow it when I first arrived here.”

Rowan looked blankly at Amran for a second. “Congratulations! You answered my questions only to give me several more.” She then gave him a hopeful look. “Do you think I could learn some of those techniques?” Any tool or technique that could help her survive and be true to her promise was a gift.

“No,” he answered immediately.

“But…”

“No.”

“I could…”

“No.”

“What if…”

“No.

“You…”

“No!”

“Meanie!” Rowan threw her arms up in despair before wincing in pain. “Ouch! Can’t you at least think about it?”

“Sorry, I should have been clearer. It won’t work.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re an Ardent.”

Even with Amran’s strangely mellow tone, Rowan could feel the hint of a rhetorical question, as if his answer was obvious. Unfortunately, he didn’t give her a chance to respond as he continued with his explanation.

“Ardents feel too strongly to quell the storm of emotion inside of them, and to try would only blunt their edge. It would be akin to expecting a moth to be not drawn towards the flame. Thus, while you may learn, such a technique would fail to serve you.”

Amran’s explanation took Rowan a little off guard. “That was a rather colourful way of explaining things,” she responded, giving him a thoughtful pout.

"Thank you,” Amran said appreciatively.

"It wasn’t exactly a compliment, you know. It’s really bizarre when you give a really poetic explanation after being so short or concise before. Actually, you’ve been a little cryptic at times. Wait, what was that about me being an Ardent?” Rowan had been so caught up in his explanation that she had forgotten the point that had led into it.

“You are an Ardent, yes?”

Is it really that obvious?

“I am, but ― how did you know?”

Amran looked at Rowan quizzically. “You mean apart from the fact that you are practically leaking with emotional intensity?”

Rowan nodded.

“I was unable to calm down your embarrassment. If anything, I believe that you actually got more embarrassed when I tried.”

“You tried to calm my embarrassment?” Rowan asked as she tried to work out what exactly he meant.”

“Wait!” she said as it clicked. “That means you’re a Stoic! I think.”

Rowan’s response surprised Amran a little bit, which gave her a slither of satisfaction.

“You’re rather well-learned for a country girl,” Amran noted, “I’m impressed. The mechanics of Ardent Amplification and Stoic Dampening aren’t exactly common knowledge. I believe it is an area of study limited to the educated elite, government and, of course, Ardents and Stoics who have had the chance to explore said mechanics.”

“Well, I am not a Country Girl!” Rowan almost shouted in a slightly offended tone, garnering the attention of some of the other prisoners.

Why am I getting needlessly offended by this? Time to switch mounts.

“My apologies,” Amran responded. “I didn’t mean to offend. Granted, I was sure my nature as a Stoic was as obvious as your own as an Ardent. I’m actually surprised it took my comment on dampening to make you realise.”

“You would be,” Rowan said, this time with mock offence, her disposition completely different from what it had been a second ago.

“That was quick.”

“I’m sorry. I didnae think it likely that I would meet another Awakened so soon, especially with how rare we’re supposed to be. It was stupid of me, considering what this place is. I knew about it because my father is an internationally established merchant, so he made sure I received the best tuition possible.”

“Then you have been blessed by a good education, though I fear it will do you little good here. I also recommend that you rid yourself of the notion that we are rare in these caves. We are far more common here than any of us would care to admit. Anyhow, it seems like you’ve caught on to the purpose of this operation.

“As you have probably guessed, they intend to force as many of us as possible to Awaken. Their reason for doing this is so that they can forge us into weapons for use in some war. You are fortunate to have already Awakened, as you will at least be spared some of the torments that await the others.

“Unfortunately, that is only the beginning. Be strong, Rowan. Don’t let them break you. The moment you give up, they will seize your shattered will as their own. Those scars guarantee it.”

Amran's warning reminded Rowan of her mother's dying words and it filled her with dread and tears as the memory flashed before her. Rowan wanted more answers, hoping that they may steady her shaken heart, however, a cry from the other side of the cell stole her attention.

Rowan turned quickly towards the entrance of the cell. Anri lay by the gate, curled up in a ball, with Seres kneeling over her and crying. Rowan instantly ran over, fearing what could have happened or gone wrong. Anri was shivering while clutching at her left hand. It had started turning blue with frost at the fingertips.

Rowan heard some shuffling behind her, so she turned to face it. A prisoner that she hadn’t noticed before was trying to get away from them. “What happened?” she demanded.

"She fell," the prisoner replied, trying to hide the guilt in his voice.

"She just fell?" Rowan asked with a cold stare.

"Well, not exactly. We had a small disagreement," he said as he glanced at another prisoner by his side, almost as if to shift the blame.

“Rowan, stop. It was my fault,” Seres cried from behind her.

“Yeah, what she said.”

“This isn’t your fault, Seres.” Rowan’s anger began to flare. She knew a bully when she saw one. “So let me guess, one of you pushed her over because of this disagreement?”

“You don’t understand. She was hiding food. If she doesn’t need it, she should give it to those of us that have been here longer,” the second prisoner responded. The other prisoner was giving them a look as if to tell them to be quiet.

“She’d been giving it to me, Rowan,” Seres admitted sadly with a voice dripping with undeserved guilt.

“Are you two more important than Seres or Anri? No? Didn’t think so.” Rowan’s voice rose with every word, and her eyes glinted with anger from the light of the crystals.

The first prisoner took a step back as if feeling slightly threatened by the heat that was starting to radiate from Rowan’s body. “Here, take the food back,” he stammered before turning to his accomplice, “this isn’t worth a couple of scraps.” The other prisoner threw down the scraps of food that they had taken with notable indignation before the two of them then hurried away.

Rowan was about to shout after them when a hand landed on her shoulder. Amran had walked over during the confrontation and now stood just behind her. As Rowan turned to look at him, he shook his head, looking at Anri and Seres. While he spoke no words, his message was clear, “Get your priorities straight. She needs care.” Rowan nodded, trying to calm her anger.

Rowan did her best to treat Anri’s frostbitten hand and stop Seres from falling into hysterics. She felt like she was grasping at straws with the frostbite, and calming Seres down wasn’t much easier. Unfortunately, she was half convinced that she was making Anri’s hand worse.

It wasn’t like she had ever learned how to treat frostbite. She was limited to the very basics of first aid and she couldn’t help but feel it wasn’t enough. At least with Seres, she was sure that she was stable, and Amran looked like he was playing his part in ensuring that she didn’t get any worse.

Still, there was little Rowan could do apart from try. If she failed, Anri would lose at least two fingers, but she was going to lose them even if Rowan didn’t do anything. At least by trying, there was a chance she could stop it getting worse while they waited for someone to arrive. She hoped that they wouldn’t need to wait for a scheduled visit by one of the wardens. The next wouldn’t be until later in the day when they took away the prisoners for that day to suffer whatever foul torments they were using to break them.

Thankfully, one of the guards had heard the screams and had sent for a warden. They arrived not too long after with a small detachment of guards and a medical team. Rowan promised Anri that she would be okay when she and Seres were telling her goodbye. In reality, Rowan was terrified that Anri wouldn’t return.

*****

The wait for Anri to return was long. After a week, Rowan gave up practically all hope that she would be back, only maintaining a positive front for Seres. Her fear was further compounded when one of the boys that had arrived at the same time as them fell ill with an infection and died.

They were already so weak from the healing and lack of food. Maybe if she hadn’t been giving away some of her food to Seres, her odds would be better. From the look of Seres, it was clear that she felt the same. She had been quiet ever since the incident.

“What should I do, Amran?” Rowan asked the older Stoic boy quietly one day after he had returned from torment.

“Why do anything?” he responded with some confusion.

“Because she’s my responsibility,” Rowan stressed.

“Since when? Is she a relative?”

“No, but I don’t think she’s eating. I won’t let her die like Dakaa. I won’t fail her.”

“It sounds like you are putting too much of a burden on your own shoulders. Do you want to break yourself?”

“I don’t, but if I don’t do anything and I could have made things better, I would be failing everyone doubly.”

“I understand that you probably have your reasons, Rowan, but this is too much.”

“You don’t understand! I’ve failed too much already. I need to make things right.”

“Okay, perhaps I don’t. Well, there is nothing I can do to help. You have tried talking to her, haven’t you?”

“Um, no,” Rowan admitted sheepishly.

Amran gave her a flat look. “Are you being serious? That’s the first thing you should have done.”

“I was hoping there was some special Ardent technique that I could use to make her feel better.”

“You do realise that our powers don’t include miracle solutions for every situation, don’t you“

“Well yeah, but maybe…”

“Even with Amplification, it wouldn’t work. Neither of you are feeling the appropriate emotions, so there is nothing to Resonate. Just talk to her.”

“But talking is hard. What if I mess up?”

“Rowan.”

“Fine! I’ll try talking.”

Rowan stomped away to prepare herself to talk to Seres as if it was some great trial, and Amran returned to his meditation. Meanwhile, Seres was curled up into a ball near the gate. She was almost close enough for it to sap away all of her body heat. It was the punishment that she felt she deserved, not that she had any metric for what was reasonable. She had always been a good princess, responsible and caring. How could she let so many get hurt trying to help and protect her? It wasn’t right. The royal family should be the ones doing the protecting and she had failed on every front there.

“I just wanted to help people,” she cried quietly to herself.

That had been the entire reason for her trip north; a relief mission for those less well-off towns and villages in the north and east. She had begged her mother, the queen, to let her do it. Before then, she had spent her childhood helping people in the capital and the rest of the heartlands.

She used her position as a princess to make sure those in need had food and shelter, be they orphans or the elderly with no children to look after them. Many saw it as a heavy burden for one so young and overall unnecessary. She was inclined to disagree. Her duties were nothing compared to the working folk. So what if people kept telling her that everyone was taking advantage of her? She was sure that for every fraud, she was helping at least a thousand legitimate people in need. She was further vindicated when she received her mother’s seal of approval.

When her mother agreed to the mission, she felt overwhelmed with happiness. Seres didn’t even want to think about how many Gold Chains her mother had set aside for her endeavours. Now she felt like it would all go to waste. The situation was so much worse with all the raids that had been going on. How had their attacks gone on for so long without anyone in the capital knowing? Seres only hoped that her disappearance would lead them to discover the truth. Then at least some good would come from her failure.

Unfortunately, that thought did nothing to comfort her on her most recent failure. Anri was hurt because of her. Why didn’t she realise where things were going? Why didn’t she think about how dangerous the gate was? She could see the Resonance. She knew what it did, even more than anyone else here. Such was her Gift, having been trained to such a degree from a young age. But instead of trying to intercede when they started pushing, she cowered in fear. She was…

“Rowan to Seres. Rowan to Seres,” said the older girl, who glowed like the morning sun, interrupting her thoughts. Seres couldn’t remember ever seeing an Ardent shine as brightly as Rowan, at least not quite so close.

“Yes, Rowan?” she asked hesitantly. She wasn’t equipped to handle Rowan’s rather mercurial energy.

Instead of responding with any words, Rowan knelt down and hugged her gently.

“Rowan, you’re being weird,” Seres told the girl, who insisted on keeping her arms wrapped around her.

“You needed a hug,” Rowan said matter-of-factly.

“N-no, I don’t. Please let go.”

Rowan begrudgingly let go. “You’re sad. Hugging always helped me when I was feeling down.” The girl offered a warm, yet melancholic smile.

“I’m fine, honestly,” Seres lied.

“I would always tell my Ma the exact same thing when I was anything but, so that isnae gonna work on me.”

“Well, okay. No, I’m not fine, but it’s what I deserve,” Seres said with depressing conviction.

“Drakiir shit,” Rowan swore.

“Excuse me?” Seres wasn’t really sure how else she should respond to that. People typically didn’t swear in her company.

“You don’t deserve to suffer, I can promise you that. And before you argue with me, you’re going to tell me exactly why you think you do, and I’ll tell you exactly why you are wrong.”

Seres was even less prepared for that than the swearing and she couldn’t really argue with it, so she relented. She told Rowan everything she could without mentioning who she was, though she was sure Rowan had already guessed.

As promised, Rowan told her how she was wrong every time. She used a firm-but-calming tone that seemed rather uncharacteristic of her, as if she was trying to emulate someone else. By the end of it, Seres was crying and the pair of them were getting strange looks from the rest of the people in the cell.

“I think I could use that hug now,” Seres admitted quietly.

Once again, Rowan took Seres into her arms, only this time, she started singing a familiar song.

♫Hush now little one

the day is won

Sleep now little one

The sun is gone

Mama’s here

to wash away your fear

Mama’s here

to wipe away your tears♫

By the end of the song, tears were streaming down Rowan’s eyes as well and the two girls cried their pain away. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough to tide them over while they continued to heal and wait for Anri. Seres started eating all of her food again and started to feel better.

There were some details that Rowan didn’t mention to Seres, however. With each passing day, it was becoming clear that the wardens were using everyone’s healing process to determine when it was time for them to be taken away along with the senior prisoners.

Rowan was scared that they would take advantage of Anri’s position to start the so-called forging process early. Furthermore, her own scars were almost healed, which was concerning in its own right. What if she wasn’t there when Anri returned, or what if she couldn’t be there for Seres when she was taken? She tried to get answers from Amran, but he refused to answer,  likely to try and stop her from worrying more than she already was.

After another three days, Anri returned to the cell. Seres was the first to notice as she excitedly shook Rowan awake. Rowan was elated to see Anri seemingly safe and sound. The only thing that Rowan could see was different about her was a mitten that she was sporting on her left hand. Seres, on the other hand, noticed the distinct lack of colour to Anri’s face or the notes of horror that danced across her eyes as Rowan rushed over towards her.

Rowan took Anri over to an empty cot so that she could rest. Meanwhile, Amran looked up from his meditation and, in perfect sync with Seres, muttered, “She’s Awakened.”

Chapter 9: The Caves

For several days, perhaps even a week after the attack, the raiders rode hard and fast. It was difficult for Rowan to say for sure, especially with the canvas sack over her head.

After the first day, it became even harder when the raiders replaced the sack with several layers of cloth, wrapped tightly around her eyes and ears. From that point on, Rowan lost all sense of time and it compounded with a growing fever to send her into a state of delirium. The only silver lining came from her having an easier time breathing.

All in all though, it wasn't much of a consolation prize. Even if they had done nothing to keep her bound after her fight in the forest, there was little she could do to escape.

After being fully blindfolded, the only perceivable change during the rest of the journey happened near its end when Rowan tasted salt in the air. It was enough to send her nausea spiralling out of control. She threw up what little remained in her stomach as they continued to gallop.

When they finally arrived at their destination, Rowan was on the brink of starvation and the taste of salt in the air was heavy. She felt oh so terribly weak. Her Awakening had eaten away at what little energy reserves she had.

The only thing keeping her from passing out as they removed the layers of cloth was the salty spray of the sea. It was enough to make her sick as the biting chill of the spray caressed her face.

Light flooded her field of view as the last layer was removed. Every single lamp and torch was like a dagger striking from the sable shadows of night. Even as her eyes adjusted to being able to see again, it was a challenge to take in everything.

Rowan found herself having difficulty believing the sight before her. She saw a throng of raiders and shackled adolescents in the shadow of a large, slender, black ship that was quite unlike anything she had ever seen before.

Not too far from her, one of the raiders looked like he was arguing with a rather commanding figure from the ship's crew as the captives were being manhandled across the gangplank and thrown below decks. For the time being, Rowan was yet to be touched by the men. Instead, she had been chained to a post, waiting on the conclusion of the argument before her.

“What are you doing here, Malin?” the sailor shouted at the raider. “You weren’t supposed to arrive until the next shipment.”

“We didn't have a choice, Draak. The girl Awakened and killed two of my men,” Malin responded, pointing toward Rowan. She tried to retreat from their gaze to no avail.

“You risked this entire operation for a single girl?” The sailor sounded almost incredulous at the idea. "It's a miracle you weren't followed.”

“Perhaps you didn’t hear me when I said she killed two of my men? She’s strong, Draak. Incredibly so.”

“And practically dead. You’re lucky the other raids weren’t as successful. What would you have done if I didn’t have any room?”

“I'd have asked you to take the girl at the very least. If they can break her, she’ll be worth the entire trip.”

“Well thank Kelafrand, that Luut was assigned to this ship. He's the only doctor in the fleet that I'd trust with not killing the girl by mistake."

“Great,” Malin said dryly. “Explaining this to him isn’t going to be fun. I love the man, but he takes his job way too seriously.”

"I'll leave that to you. Let me go get him."

"Aye aye, Captain."

True to his word, the captain walked on board and disappeared below decks. A few minutes later he returned with a surprisingly young-looking man. He was significantly better dressed than a lot of the sailors, barring the captain, and he had stark white hair. In his hands, he held a bag not too dissimilar to the one often carried by Doctor Bræn.

He walked over with Malin to inspect Rowan.

"Were you trying to kill her, Malin?" the doctor asked after finishing the examination.

"Hardly," Malin replied.

"So she's starving for the hell of it?" the doctor asked in a hollow tone.

"We couldn't risk feeding her anymore, Luut. Even as a fledgling, she killed two people and that was after a day without food. It's been a good few years since I've seen an Ardent with this much potential."

"You could have avoided this if you had an Empath in your squad."

"We only have so many Empaths to go between the squads. Now what about her leg? Or her gut?"

"Both have begun to fester. The leg is particularly bad. See the infection? We can treat it, but it's going to cost you. Even for such fine cargo, this is an unacceptable condition. The good lords won't be pleased."

"I know. I know. Just get her healed up as best you can before you reach the Caves."

"I will. Now high tide is upon us, so we need to be leaving. Until next time, Malin. Captain says you’ve got your work cut out for you with covering those tracks," Luut said calmly, bidding Malin farewell.

Malin returned his own goodbyes, and with that, the conversation was over. Luut ordered some of the other sailors to take Rowan onto the ship. It soon became clear that she was being taken into a part of the ship away from the other captives.

Some time later, Luut entered the room, holding his bag and a plate of food. He placed the plate down in front of Rowan. Most of the food, barring a spoonful of honey, was unfamiliar to her. She eyed it nervously as Luut ordered her to eat.

"Start with the honey; it will help you collect your wits," he said in a calm tone.

Whilst Rowan didn't trust the man, her hunger was overwhelming, and she couldn't resist the food for long. She ate quickly, banking on the fact that her captors seemed to want her alive as a reason for why they wouldn't try and poison her or something.

"Good," he said simply as she finished. He then approached her with a needle in hand. "Now don't be scared," he continued, "This is just a simple sedative to keep you relaxed while I treat you."

Rowan couldn't help but feel scared of this man. His calm words did nothing to comfort her. In fact, it was more the way he spoke than the needle he held that scared her. Rather than being gentle and caring like her mother's voice was, it seemed empty, or perhaps muted, as if his voice was calm due to lack of emotion behind it. Rowan tried to fight him off, however, he was considerably stronger than seemed possible for a normal human.

"That won't do," he said as he pinned Rowan down and placed the needle into a vein with unerring precision, and injected the liquid from the attached container. The drug started to take effect quickly and Rowan slipped into unconsciousness within the minute.

*****

When Rowan's sense of consciousness returned to the world of the living, she was being carried down the gangplank in a litter. Apart from that, she has absolutely no idea where she was. Gone were the night sky and the hidden bay that she remembered. She instead, found herself in an exceptionally large cavern housing a fully-functioning dock laden with black ships. It was clearly a more permanent operation compared to the one they had departed from.

The people carrying Rowan’s litter had seemed to not notice that she was awake and she did her best to keep it that way. She feared that they'd make her walk if they noticed, and she was still too weak for that.

As surreptitiously as she could manage, Rowan glanced around the cavern. It was guarded well. Even if Rowan was at full strength, she wouldn’t have stood a chance if she tried anything. Just from her rather hasty observations, she was able to count at least a hundred well-armed men and women and she knew better than to hope that was it. Of course, with the remnants of the sedative still coursing through her veins, she'd fall short at even the smallest of hurdles.

It was clear that the guards knew she was too weak to be a threat, for she was the only captive not in chains. Considering how strong the raider Malin had insisted she was, it came across as kind of an insult. They weren't wrong to think so, however.

She wanted to run, but she could barely move her legs. It was as if her mind had woken up before the rest of her body. If anything, that idea was more horrifying to her.  She was a prisoner in her own body until she could move and even after that, she was a captive.

The people carrying her litter brought her to where the other prisoners were converging before being led down a long meandering path up the side of the cavern. Nearing its end, the path turned into the rocky face and down into a small network of caves.

Finally, after twenty or thirty long minutes, they arrived in a large and surprisingly well-lit chamber with four exits that Rowan could see, not counting the one they had entered from. With her carriers noticing that she had woken up, Rowan was forced off the stretcher to stand with everyone else. She was unsteady at first, almost dropping the moment her legs had to bear any weight. Once she started feeling a little steadier on her feet, however, she was finally in a position where she could properly look around.

Unsurprisingly, they were once again surrounded by armed guards. The exits to the chamber were particularly well-guarded. Even if the full mass of prisoners charged at one of the exits, they would struggle to escape.

In front of the group stood a rather large man with broad shoulders and a horseshoe moustache. He was accompanied by a notably more genteel and well-dressed man. The two were talking quietly, and then the inspection began.

One by one, the larger man looked over each of the captives whilst consulting some sheets of parchment. After a small moment of consideration, he leaned down to talk quietly into the smaller man’s ear.

With each examination, the captive in question was divided off from the main group and placed into smaller groups. At the same time, Rowan’s anxiety over what was going to happen when they looked at her started to rise. By the time they reached her, she was practically shaking in her nonexistent boots.

The larger man muttered to himself in a strange accent, almost as if he was reading from a checklist. “Already Awakened. Strong. From Næmyris. Malin’s group. Someone, chain her up.” He didn’t even need to consult with the smaller man to know where she needed to go. She was soon chained up and sent to stand with the smallest of the groups.

Now in her place, the anxiety having passed by a small degree, Rowan started looking around again, desperate to find other people from Næmyris. Amongst the other groups, she saw all the ones that had been with her since the attack, barring those that had managed to escape when she freed Tehri. She also saw a few more that she didn’t remember being there in Malin’s captivity.

Still, it was only a tiny fraction of the amount that Rowan expected. Even if Malin had rushed, surely some of the other groups should have arrived as well, perhaps by a different boat. Rowan knew that Malin’s group only represented a very small number of the raiding force that had attacked Næmyris.

Even so,  a small part of her held hope. That night had been so chaotic, so surely she was mistaken.

It would have been easy if that hope was the only thought that haunted her. Unfortunately, her emotions were as conflicted and chaotic as the night that had ingrained itself so deeply into her memories.

On the one hand, there was the hope that it was just the people here and that everyone else was safe. On the other, there was the very real possibility that they had been slaughtered or that they were yet to arrive.

Then there was also the fact that it was very clear that they had attacked more than just Næmyris and from what Rowan could tell, they had been doing this for a while. And seeing how everyone was below the age of seventeen, Rowan could only come to one conclusion.

They were in an Awakening farm. Rowan had Awakened in the worst way possible and this was a place engineered with that in mind. She just didn’t know why.

The anxiety started to rise again. Rowan could only imagine what they intended to do to them and what it meant for her in her Awakened state. Intense feelings of dread stabbed into her core as the last person was examined.

With everyone sorted, the groups were led down the different exits until only Rowan’s group was left. She stood there with 6 others. The larger man then approached them and ordered some of the guards to take them away. Now that he was speaking louder and more clearly, Rowan realised that his strange accent was actually Særan, the sister language of Midiran.

Somewhat fortunately, Rowan had learnt to speak Særan from a young age alongside her native and ancestral tongues. However, knowing that they were likely in Særis didn’t really tell her much as they were led away. If anything, it only gave her more questions.

It was all so overwhelming. The questions. The feelings. The despair. All of it. After Awakening, everything had become a polychromatic storm of emotion. Rowan just wanted it to stop. But this is what she had asked for. She would give it all up if she could have her family back.

Ancestors! Why?

You were supposed to be watching over us!

I’m sorry.

This is my fault.

I deserve this.

I have to be stronger.

For Tehri! For Ma! For everyone!

Rowan was crying when they arrived in a small decorated chamber. Compared to the rest of the caves, this chamber seemed artificial, as if it had been carved out completely from the rock to look like a room. Cabinets lined the far wall and a large, stone, table-like structure served as a centrepiece for the room. Attached to it were several straps that made Rowan feel extremely uncomfortable. Furthermore, it was also surrounded by an elaborate Crystal Array, though Rowan didn’t recognise any of the Resonance Crystals used in its construction.

The guards started blindfolding the group when a giant of a man walked in. He was large enough to dwarf the man that examined them before. Rowan, by comparison, couldn't even compete with the sheer mass of his legs, let alone his full stature. Even his hands were big enough to fully enclose her torso.

When the guards went to blindfold Rowan, the man interrupted them in an extremely thick and broken accent."Not her," he said, "she go first."

The guards nodded and pulled her towards the device. Rowan tried to struggle out of their grasp only for their grip to become firmer. "Let go of me," she cried.

"Stop that," the large man said as Rowan cried and struggled. "Now strip," he ordered.

Rowan looked aghast at the order, noticing that the guards had released her as if to allow her to follow it. "W-w-what?" she stammered, fearing what twisted desires the man had. With his overwhelming stature and muscular form that Rowan could now see was covered in strange tattoos, she knew that she wouldn't be able to fight him off if he forced her to follow his orders.

"Strip," he repeated. "Do not fight or you break."

"I'm not going to strip, pervert," Rowan responded defiantly. In spite of her fear, she wanted to fight back.

"Pervert?" the man said, seemingly confused before laughing. "You think me interested in body of one not even big enough to be Kin'duur?" he asked rhetorically before nodding to the guards. One of them grabbed her as the other ripped her shirt almost completely off before dragging her to the table, strapping her down to it face first. After they had secured her in place, the man then approached her with a belt. "Bite on this," he ordered, "so you not bite on tongue."

Once again, Rowan refused to obey so the guards pried her mouth open and placed the belt between her teeth. While she struggled, the large man went over to one of the cabinets with methodical intent. From within it, he took out an obsidian knife, a leather bag, and a cloth towel before bringing them over to another table next to the one Rowan was strapped to. He then looked over to one of the guards who brought him a bowl filled with water.

Having finished the rest of his preparations, he wiped down her back with a wet, medicinal-smelling towel. Then he took the knife and pressed it against her back.

Rowan tried to cry out in pain, only for the belt to muffle her cries. Even with what should have been mind-numbing pain, Rowan felt every cut with disturbing clarity. The giant carved into her flesh with morbid precision, starting with the middle of her back and working his way up and out.

As the procedure dragged on, he would stop every so often to wipe the blood away. In those moments, Rowan prayed that it was the end, only for him to take a strange crystalline powder from the leather bag and rub it into her open wounds. The pain was like none she had ever experienced before and it nearly drove her to the point of passing out. Alas, that would have been a mercy she was not privy to.

When the procedure finally was completed, Rowan was, to her surprise, removed from the room and cleaned. She half expected that they would have forced her to watch the other procedures that were almost certainly taking place.

Once they were done washing her, they gave her some clothes. They were little more than rags, but they were at least clean, though she suspected that it would only be a matter of time for that simple fact to be completely inverted. The guards also had the sense to at least make a slight effort in bandaging up her back. At the same time, she almost wished that they hadn't even bothered; the rough cotton only served to make the pain even worse.

Once they were done with her, she was thrown into another chamber full of dishevelled humans and Ferrans. The pain from landing on the cold stone floor was immeasurable. It was as if every inch of her back was being stabbed over and over again.

Even with all that agony, however, she was not granted the release of passing out.  If anything, it had the opposite effect.

Rowan rolled over weakly and struggled up on her knees as the guards slammed the entrance to the chamber shut. It was starting to sink in all over again. She was completely alone, lost, and broken with the only reminders of home being the horrors of that night and the earrings that had miraculously not been taken while she was unconscious. A small consolation amidst a sea of hell.

Still, she refused to just kneel there blankly in her descent toward madness. She had to collect herself, lest she betray her promise to Tehri. To that end, she slowly stood up and started taking in the sights.

The first thing she saw was the heavy metal gate that barred the exit. In addition to whatever mechanism was locking it, the gate had also been infused with a Heat Crystal Array to deter any notions of escape. Rowan might not have been an expert, but it didn't take a genius to see how the Array was configured; the heavy frost coming from the thick metal bars was enough of an indicator. Even just looking at the gate made Rowan shiver.

Pulling her eyes away from the gate, Rowan turned towards one of the walls near which several cots had been placed somewhat sporadically. It was depressingly clear that there wasn’t enough for everyone. On the far side of the chamber, there was a small, crystal-clear spring framed by a crystalline structure that radiated light in such a way that made it seem like a window to the outside. How they did that, Rowan wasn't sure as they certainly weren't Light Crystals.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t all the chamber had to offer. Throughout the room, perhaps thirty prisoners lay scattered in clusters of both boys and girls. For the most part, they all shared a similar look of defeat, as if they were all on the verge of breaking. A couple of them acknowledged Rowan’s entrance into the chamber, though it was clear that they were used, perhaps even numb, to new arrivals.

There was, however, one prisoner that stood out to Rowan. A Ferran boy, perhaps only a year older than her, sat on the far side of the chamber meditating. Despite it being clear that he was heavily malnourished, much like everyone in the chamber, he showed no signs of weakness. In fact, he seemed to express serenity more than anything.

Rowan wanted to speak to him, to see how long he had been here and how he managed to stay strong. However, she could barely move due to the pain radiating from her back. It was as if she was being licked by fire. Instead, she struggled towards one of the empty cots in the hope that she'd be able to get some rest.

*****.

In roughly hour-long intervals, the remaining six captives from Rowan's group were thrown into the large cell-like chamber. From their heavily bandaged torsos, it was clear that they had been put through the exact same process as she had been. Like her, they all tried to find a place where they could recover, though not all the cots were available so they were forced to lie on the stone floor.

It didn’t take long for it to become apparent that the older prisoners had undergone a similar scarring ritual as their backs sported highly elaborate designs formed from scar tissue.  Everyone seemed to have the same core design with slight personalised variations. Strangely though, some had entire segments that the others did not.

The central design was composed of two perfectly symmetrical and vertically aligned segments. Out of the two designs, the upper one was particularly disturbing in a morbidly beautiful kind of way. It was formed from a core of six, diamond-like claws that flared out radially from between the shoulder blades. Rowan felt them stabbing their way into her soul and from deep within those metaphysical wounds, a sea of fiery tendrils erupted forth and coiled around a pair of crescent moons that dared not look upon what was taking them.

Below the shackled moons lay a design that Rowan had difficulty parsing. It twisted in a way that felt familiar, yet alien at the same time. She could feel its roots spreading throughout her very being like a great oak, only it wasn’t sapping away her strength as such a visualisation might have suggested. Instead, she seemed to share in its vigour, even if only slightly.

Rowan found herself both awed and horrified by the scars and the overly vivid images they formed, let alone the significant skill that had to go into perfecting the highly intricate design on a canvas of flesh.

*****

Rowan spent much of the rest of that first day regaining her strength and agonising why they had all been scarred in such a manner. She wasn’t usually one for morbid curiosity, however, she found that against all reason, over-analysing the horror of her situation was all she could do to keep her fear and grief at bay.

The only other strength she could find came from remembering that Tehri was safe from suffering the same fate.

After that first day, it started to become clear what Rowan could expect while her cuts healed. The prisoners were fed a single meal a day to prevent them from dying from starvation and ensure that they had enough energy to do whatever they were made to do.

It also ensured that they would never have enough energy to fight back. Water was notably more readily available with the spring at the back of the chamber.

Furthermore, additional water was given to Rowan and the other six that had just undergone the scarring ritual. They were also taken away every other day to have their wounds checked and their bodies were cleaned. It seemed that the cell was also cleaned while their wounds were being tended.

As for the other prisoners, each day, ten or so were taken away with around half of them returning by the end of the day and the rest trickling back in the days that followed. Most of them acquired minor injuries and small amounts of bruising during their time away and while they all carried different emotions on their faces, they all expressed the same look of almost complete and utter defeat and the same pain.

Usually, the longest it took for a prisoner to return was three days, though, on one occasion a prisoner didn’t return. They had given up. That was what the other prisoners said. Rowan didn’t understand what they meant, but she also didn’t need to strain her ears to hear the hints of temptation in their voices. The idea that giving up was potentially a good thing to the others chilled her to the bone. What could they have suffered that they felt that giving up could be the better option?

Over the course of that first week, Rowan tried to shake the fear, loneliness and sadness that she had been feeling. It felt like a nigh impossible task, but she refused to let herself give up. She would not give her captors the satisfaction.

Talking to the other prisoners helped, though most of them were unwilling to talk to any of the newcomers. They were particularly avoidant of Rowan, though she was probably to blame in that regard as she kept trying to ask what their captors were trying to accomplish.

She did eventually realise that such questions were kind of lacking in terms of tact, but it ended up being too little too late for most of them. That still left the other newcomers, however, and while most of them were still trying to process everything, she was able to make a connection with two of the girls; one human and one Ferran.

The human was a rosy-gold-haired girl called Anri. She was perhaps a year or so younger than Rowan and she spoke with a notable accent that Rowan recognised as being from the northern reaches of Llen Færa. In a few small ways, she almost reminded Rowan of a mellower and older Tehri, though not quite.

At the same time, Rowan also realised that she was probably projecting a wee bit. Beyond the bubbly personality, the only real similarities were the eyes and the similarly-coloured hair. Still, it was enough to make Rowan want to hug her and tell her that everything would be okay. Anything to ease the pain she was clearly hiding. At the same time, she didn’t stand out in any other particular way.

The Ferran girl on the other hand was especially noteworthy. For one, she was surprisingly young, perhaps only just eleven, and the only reason Rowan could guess that was because of how adamant they were that Tehri was too young.

She was by far the youngest person Rowan had seen since arriving in the caves. What really stood out about her, however, were her eyes; one blue eye and one golden. Heterochromia, also known as the Mark of the Goddess for Her differently coloured eyes. Her eyes, along with her long coppery hair made Rowan very suspicious of her identity.

When Rowan learned her name, she was almost sure. The age, appearance, and old Ferran name of Seres told her everything she needed to know. Rowan’s mind flashed back to Tyris’s promotion ceremony, and to the Queen appearing with her two daughters, the youngest of which was an almost perfect match to the girl before her now. Fortunately, no one else seemed to share her suspicions. Anri, for example, thought that Rowan and Seres could have been cousins or even sisters.

There was one individual that Rowan still wanted to talk to by way of the Ferran boy, but he had been taken away before she had gotten the chance and he was yet to return. As such, she was left with the two girls, which she wasn’t exactly complaining about. If anything, she enjoyed their company as much as anyone could hope to in their situation.

During one of their conversations, which was all they could really do, the topic of where they had come from came up. Anri thought it might help if they talked about the experience, the idea being that letting it all out would ease their pain. As she was the one that suggested it, she opened up with her own story.

“They was attacking each night like moths to the flame. For more than a week, they were. We tried to send for help, but it never came. I think we was the only survivors. Those of us they took on their black ships that is. ‘Twas a slaughter, I swear.

"The lady in charge dint seem happy when she found out. Killed all the leaders she did. Then sent us on our way to be shipped off and now here we is.”

She spoke with an incredibly heavy accent and a quivering quality to her voice. All the times she had spoken before, she had tried to avoid speaking in the northern dialect, but now it didn’t matter. She spoke in the way that best expressed her feelings.

Rowan was mortified when Anri finished her story and from the looks of it, so was Seres. She had only suffered the one attack, but Anri had suffered them each night until no one was left. If anything, Rowan understood why the Raider-in-Chief had killed all the other leaders. That kind of thing would draw the eyes of the capital. Then again, the capture of the second princess would do that anyway.

“I think I must have been going past either your village or a nearby one when my caravan and I were attacked,” Seres opened up in a notably more refined, yet still clearly scared tone. “The dates match up with when we were on our return journey from the north. They killed every last person except me just because we drove too close to their camp. I just know that they would have killed me as well if… if they didn’t…”

“It’s okay, Seres,” Rowan interrupted before she could give away any unnecessary information. “You don’t need to say if you don’t want to.”

Seres gave her an appreciative look and fell quiet. Rowan felt like it could be dangerous if more people caught on to her identity.

Then she realised that both pairs of eyes had fallen on her to fill the silence. She recounted her story as best as she could without breaking down into tears. It was a challenge beyond imagining and when she was almost at her limit, Seres awkwardly tried to give her a hug in such a way as to not cause either of them too much pain. The conversation died after that.

*****

On the final day of that first week, the Ferran boy returned. His eyes were black and blue and his ribs were just as bruised. Even from a distance, Rowan could tell that they were broken. She was horrified to see him with injuries that were much worse than those of any other prisoners had returned with that week. The only contenders for his injuries were those that had arrived that week and undergone the scarring ritual.

Rowan hesitated in approaching him. She wanted to ask him some questions, but her concern for his injuries took priority. She ripped off a strip of cloth from the hem of her shirt and soaked it in the spring before heading towards him. He had returned to his meditation by the time she reached him.

“Are you okay?” she asked in Særan, taking a gamble that he’d understand. It seemed likely that he would as she was yet to encounter someone that didn't speak at least a smattering of the language following her arrival in the caves.

The boy opened his eyes. “Yes,” he replied, “I’m quite well, thank you.” He spoke softly with a slight lilt and despite his injuries, his words gave no hint that he was in pain.

“But, you’re clearly hurt,” Rowan said, offering the cloth.

“This pain is but a test of my resolve,” he said before accepting the cloth and dabbing his eyes with it.

“If it’s a test, why did you accept the cloth? Wait, that’s not important! Isn’t that a really messed up test? Who would even give a person that kind of test?”

“The test is in accepting the pain, not suffering from it,” he explained, unphased by Rowan's sudden exclamation. “Besides, it would be rude to decline aid so graciously offered.”

Rowan, with a blush creeping up her cheeks, found his response rather disarming. “How can you be so calm?” she practically demanded in an attempt to hide her fluster.

“How can you be so excitable?” he asked back.

Again, his response disarmed Rowan. “B-because that’s just how I am,” she answered.

“I’m glad that you were able to answer your own question.”

Rowan felt her cheeks become even redder with embarrassment. She didn’t know how to respond to his calm and measured, yet slightly musical way of speaking. So instead, she fled to the other side of the chamber where Anri and Seres were sitting.

Cover Reveal

Big News and Cover Reveal

Hi Everyone!

Ardent Tears Book 1 is currently being reviewed for publishing on Amazon. This means it's only a matter of time before it is released. As such, I'll also be releasing chapters here as well. I'm still working out how many advance chapters are going to be made available relative to the public release, but I'm thinking five or ten.

For now, though, I will leave you with the cover reveal.

Patreon Insights: Calendars in Ardent Tears

Hello Everyone! Whilst I'm very busy with the final edits to Book 1 and planning the rewrite of Book 2, I did have an idea for this Insight and I promised to not delay it too much. As for why I'm covering the various calendars of the world? Well apart from me thinking it's a neat bit of worldbuilding, there are also some peculiarities that result in there being some key difference compared to the more widely used Earth calendars.

Before I break down those differences in full, I'll cover what is the same. First off, like Earth, days on Illyria are broken up into hours, minutes, and seconds. Some cultures in the world have different ways of measuring time and partitioning the day, but for the most part, they will be the exception. Additionally, precision may vary between cultures and individuals, especially when it comes to minutes and seconds.

I also want to say that another key similarity lies in many cultures in Illyria recognising the solstices as being significant in some form or another, but I fear that might be my eurocentric/celtic pagan brain speaking. Still, it is something worth noting and I acknowledge that anytime I talk about various similarities and differences between Earth and Illyria, I might miss a lot of things that are fairly common, but outside my current sphere of knowledge.

Alas, I will not bore you all with my rambling and we will instead move on to some astronomic comparisons. A true astronomic year on Illyria is equivalent to 330.1 Earth days or 335.5 Illyrian days. The discrepancy in year lengths is due to Illyria rotating slightly faster than Earth. Furthermore, the year is shorter than an Earth year due to Illyria being closer to the sun and thus possessing a shorter orbit. Fortunately, due to the sun also being proportionally less massive, Illyria is still relatively Earthlike. 

Continuing with orbits, Rowan'el, the closest of Illyria's two moons, takes 30.5 Illyrian days to complete a single full orbit whereas Særan'el takes 45.75 Illyrian days. This results in there being eleven full orbits of Rowan'el per astronomical year.

Now, you will notice that a lot of these numbers are surprisingly neat. If you look at the same values for Earth, you'll see a lot more numbers after the decimal place. I've got both a watsonian and a doylist explanation for this. The doylist explanation is simply that it makes things a lot easier to manage. Part of me would love to go all out, but most people won't care and it doesn't add much to the story to go overboard. On the other hand, we have the watsonian explanation of "the gods did it". Basically, the Goddess, the Heart of the Sun, and Illyria actively stabilised their astronomical relationships by way of Resonance.

After orbits, we will shift to a more cultural viewpoint as we discuss calendars in a more practical sense. For the sake of brevity, I will only be covering the more widespread calendar systems, starting with the one used in Særis, Ferran, Llen Færa, and most of the Talrasian continent. 

This system, along with many others, is a lunisolar calendar that primarily tracks Rowan'el and recognises five seasons. I realise there being five seasons might seem strange to a lot of you, but there is a logic to it. Basically, my decision was informed by three factors. One, 5 is a sacred prime of the Heart of the Sun and seasons are primarily dictated by the relationship between the planet's axial tilt and the light of the sun. Two, I had eleven lunations to work with. Three, I didn't want to make a discount Gregorian calendar.

As for how I was actually able to break the year into 5 seasons? I started by looking at how we typically decide how long a month should. With Rowan'el being the lunar reference point for determining month length, I could go with 30 or 31 days. I chose 30 as it would leave me under the astronomical year instead of over at 11 months and it had more factors than 31. I then divided the month up into weeks, for which I alternated between seven and eight days per week and four total weeks. The last day of the long weeks went on to become the Day of Rest that we see referenced in the story.

Following this set up, I was left with eleven month and five free days. As I had to do something with these extra days, my attention was drawn to intercalary days or, perhaps more accurately, epagomenal days. Epagomenal days are days that days that exist with a solar calendar but are placed outside regular months. Instead of just having the five epagomenal days, however, I cannibalised the eleventh month and created five epagomenal seven day weeks. These epagomenal weeks are the weeks of seasonal transition and they are the dividing line between the five seasons.

Of course, with their being five seasons in a year, you may wonder what the seasons are called. For the sake of simplicity, I will primarily be referring to the in story as Spring, Summer, Autumn, Low Winter, and High Winter. Granted, they do have other names in world that differ significantly across cultures. 

In Llen Færa, Særis, and Ferran, the seasons are more accurately called the Seasons of Hearth, Blossoms, Growth, Harvest, and Slumber for High Winter, Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Low Winter respectively. Furthermore the calendar year in these nations starts on the Winter Solstice which occurs in the middle of the transition between Low and High Winter. This results in their being half an epagomenal week at the end of the one year and the other half at the start of the next. Additionally, when a leap year occurs every other year, the day is added to this epagomenal period.

Some nations that use this calendar system instead start their year in Spring and they opt for a naming scheme that is inspired by the stages of life with Spring being Youth and High Winter being Death.

The Ru'eni Empire has a similar system to the rest of Talras, but they instead opt for each of their ten months being 32 days instead of 30 with each week being eight days long. By extension, they're transitionary periods are only three days long instead of seven. Apart from that, however, they also differ significantly from other cultures as they start the new year on the Summer Solstice instead of the Winter Solstice or in Spring. This is due to their culture being built on the philosophy of "even if we fall, nothing we stop us from rising" as it symbolises that in the end, they will be on top.

Going back to my process for getting five seasons to work with the calendar, the Kairosi forego seasons for the most part and instead opt to for the full eleven months and the five epagomenal days. They also mark the start of their year with the anniversary of the day they started becoming Kairosi. 

The last calendar system we'll look at is the one used by the Al'Duur. Unlike the other races, the Al'duur completely ignore the two moons in their calendar, instead using the changing Solar Gifts to track time. Each year in their calendar is divided into five "seasons" which they call Dualities. Each Duality is 67 days long and can be further divided base on which of the two Gifts from that Duality is "in effect". As there are ten total pairings for Solar Gifts, the Al'duur calendar operates on two year cycle. This contrasts with the other calendars from the Lunar races which typically operate on a six year cycle that can be further divided into a pair of three year sub-cycles.

And with that, I think I'll bring this Insight to a close. I hope you all enjoyed it.

Patreon Insights: Education in Llen Færa

Hello Everyone! With my recovery from COVID nearly over, we will be starting back with an Insight into the education systems that are in place for the youth of Llen Færa. All in all, it it a fairly basic system that is notably different in style to what many of you might expect. For the most part, I will be focusing on education within towns and cities as the villages tend to vary a fair bit in how they approach teaching their youth.

Either way, I will start by breaking the system down by a selection of key ages. First off, most children will start their formal education at the age of five. Lessons at this point are very basic with a focus on literacy and figuring out what kind of learning the child is most receptive to. Furthermore, the lessons tend to be highly dynamic and engaging with games and practical activities woven in.

By age 7, the schools will typically have a solid grasp of how the children learns best and they are organised into groups based on their learning styles. At this age, wealthier families will look into hiring private tutors to supplement the public education that is made available to everyone. For the more gifted students, the town may sponsor them with a scholarship with a private tutor, though most of these are granted after the child reaches adolescence at 11.

Lessons at this point expand to cover a wider range of subjects, though the style is of the same dynamic and interactive style seen in the introductory years. The school day also grows to encompass both late morning and early afternoon so that enough time can be devoted to each subject. The last hour of the school day is also devoted to a physical activity with the students having a choice of which activity they engage in. In cases where a student has limited physical ability, they are instead granted special access to the library.

For private tutoring at this point, there are three programs that they utilise with their students. The first is very hands off and by far the cheapest option. For this program, the tutor spends some time getting to know the student and then they create a study plan for the student to follow along with giving them access to the resources they will need. At that point, it's mostly on the student to utilise the resources and study plan granted to them with the tutor checking in on them every so often to check their progress and make any adjustments deemed necessary for the study plan.

The intermediate program takes the form a small focused study group. For this program, the tutor takes a more active role in the learning of each student within the group. The exact nature of these study groups and the style of teaching depends mostly on the tutor as each one has a different approach. Master Idyr, for example takes a very academic approach, focusing on a mix of expanding on what he deems to be universal and whatever scholarly pursuits that his students find interesting. He also jumps between being incredibly dry and highly engaging.

Finally we have the most expensive program for tutors which is the the one to one tutoring that you see Master Idyr provide for Rowan. This program follows a similar approach to the previous one only it is more focused and intimate. As with the group program, the exact nature of the solo depends on the tutor in question, though a certain level of academic acumen is typically required as the tutor is expected to draw upon the student's full potential.

At age 7 Rowan spent the first hour of lessons each day with Master Idyr with the rest of her time being spent at the schoolhouse. For her hour of physical activity, she spent it learning to dance. At 9, she shifted to having her dance and music lessons with Hæra in the morning followed by her lessons with Master Idyr. She also stopped going to the schoolhouse for the most part as she didn't do well learning as part of a large group.

Going back to general education, the next key age is 11 as children are granted a lot more freedom in their adolescence. At this age, the standard school day returns to being only a half day with the second half being a lot more freeform. Some students at this age will opt for an apprenticeship, though their options are restricted to the less physical professions. Other students will seek other ways of bettering themselves independently of the public education system. This is what Kiriin and Kyr did as offered them the flexibility to do more with Rowan. The last subset of students capitalise on the services made available by the school to explore subjects such as history, mathematics, or navigation. The exact list of available subjects is dependant on the school, but most offer a reasonably wide range.

The last key age before most public schooling programs come to a close at 17 is 13 as this is the age that most other apprenticeships are made available to the various children. This is also the age where adolescents may start helping with other labour intensive jobs such as farming or wood cutting. Granted, any workplace that accepts labour from adolescents must ensure that they are safe environments and they are liable for any workplace injuries. The other big change at 13 is that adolescents that are in apprenticeships may be granted a full-time apprenticeship instead of the part-time apprenticeship granted to them at the start of their adolescence.

Finally we have the age of 17 which marks the final year of a child's public education and the start of their majority. At this age, a person is considered an adult. The one exception to this is when an individual is granted the Protections of Extended Minority. This is a legal protection that is given to those that are deemed to have experienced certain developmental issues that might offer certain challenges that people might exploit. Such individuals receive some of the benefits of being an adult but they are also considered minors in regards to the protections that are extended their way. They are also granted some special considerations on a case by case basis.

In regards to everyone else, most will either start working as adults or they will enter higher education. Alas, such topics are beyond the scope of this Insight and this is a good place to close. As such I shall bid you all farewell for now. The next Insight will be much sooner than this one was, though the exact release will depend on how deep I end up with work on Book 2. Until then, have a great weekend!

Recovery Update

Hello Everyone! Just a quick update. I'm almost completely recovered from COVID, though I have been treated to my time of the month, so things could be better. Fortunately, I'm well enough to write again so I'll have a new insight out either later today or tomorrow. My injury claim is also being finalised as I type this update, so I should be able to put in the commission for the new cover by the end of the month.  I just choose the artist and ask if they are interested and available.

Quick Update

Hello Everyone! I unfortunately have myself corona and it is knocking me into next week. As such, I won't have any new Insights this week as I need to focus on getting better. I do have some potentially good news, however. My solicitor for my injury claim emailed me last friday saying that the defendant has reviewed the case and is awaiting further instruction. If all goes according to plan, I will have a proper update by the end of the week.

Patreon Insights: Gifts of the Lover

Hello everyone! Slight update before I begin. I found out yesterday that I should be getting an update on my injury claim by the end of next week. At this stage of the claim, this hopefully means our offer will be accepted or I'll be given a counteroffer and we'll finally be able to move forwards, which is excellent news for Ardent Tears. I'll be giving a proper update when the time comes, so keep your eyes peeled. Until then, we'll be looking into the three Gifts of the Lover and the abilities they grant.

To start, I'll list out the three and then we'll go into a property that is shared by each of them. The first Gift of the Lover is the Gift of the Romantic. After that we have the Paramour, and finally the Passionate. As I've indicated before, Rowan has the Gift of the Passionate, but she won't be the only character of note with a Gift of the Lover. Alas, teasing you all with what Gifts different characters might have is not the purpose of this insight, so let's get back on track.

Anyway, for this next paragraph or so, we'll be looking at some shared properties of these three Gifts which will be touching on an aspect of the Lunar Gifts that I haven't discussed yet. Previously I mentioned that the Gifts are grouped together around a shared theme. In the case of the Gifts of the Lover, this is Love and Relationships. What I didn't mention is that they also grant some shared traits and abilities that tie into the theme.

The first of these shared abilities is that someone with a Gift of the Lover has, on average, an improved understanding and insight of relationships in general. This also gives them a greater level of empathy for their loved ones (of all kinds, not just the romantic ones). Of course, this is still limited by the mindset and personality of the giftbearer in question, as seen with Rowan. The intensity of her emotions and the presence of intrusive thoughts often muddy the waters.

The second shared ability of those with a Gift of the Lover, is that they have a innate understanding of how to make themselves come across as being generally more attractive. In some cases, this may instead manifest in them being more conventionally attractive or they may develop more attractive personalities. More often than not, however, they help the giftbearer capitalise on what they already have. Of course, this doesn't stop people making wildly inaccurate claims about people with these gifts.

The last of these shared abilities, is that those with a Gift of the Lover is better equipped to see the beauty in things, especially those that many would consider flawed. This includes helping them see themselves as beautiful when society might tell them otherwise as unfortunately, Illyria is not a world without body shaming. A byproduct of this is that these giftbearers tend to be more confident, especially as the second shared ability helps them enhance their supposed flaws in a way that helps other people see them as beautiful.

There are still limitations to this last ability as it is largely restricted to aesthetic appearances and the mindset and personality of the individual giftbearer is also a massive factor. Granted, this limitation can be found on all the shared abilities as they build on what the giftbearer already has instead of changing who they are. This is going to be true for all the Gifts and their shared abilities as they are meant to help the giftbearer and augment their understanding of a certain aspect of the world. When I designed this system, I didn't want Gifts to define people. A giftbearer isn't locked into a certain path because they are hyper-optimised for whatever their Gift represents. It is just an inclination to make what the Gift represents a part of their life.

With that said, there are some observations that can be made by those with a Gift of the Lover. First off, is that they are less likely to be asexual or aromantic and even less likely to be both. It's not unheard of, but even in these cases, the giftbearers will often find love in other ways. Secondly, they are more likely to be attracted to more than one gender. Thirdly, they tend to be less introverted, though this doesn't necessarily mean that they tend towards being more extroverted. What I mean by this, is that they usually do recharge through social interaction but not necessarily in the same way a true extrovert does. Lastly they tend to be more intense in their relationships.

Now that I've gone through those observations, I realise this was a wee bit more than a "chapter or so", but we're not done yet. I still need to go into the specific Gifts. Starting with the Gift of the Romantic, we see a very simple ability at the core of the Gift in that they can grant others a small boost by way of a romantic gesture. Likewise, they a similarly bolstered when they are on the receiving end of a romantic gesture. These boosts are often called Hearts, Charms, or Boons.

The way this boost works is primarily by making the person's body more efficient and by making them better able to utilise their non-magical skills and talents. When someone is bolstered by this Gift, it is accompanied by a warm and fuzzy feeling. The power of the boost received is determined by two primary factors; how much the Gift has been cultivated and the feelings that are evoked by the gesture. The gesture also has to be genuine for a boost to received. 

For those that cultivate the Gift, they may tweak the boons granted by it to be more appropriate and personalised to the recipient. They can also make gifts seem more vibrant. Eventually, the gifts they give others will legitimately become more vibrant and also more functional. The supposed end game of this Gift, is that the boons will eventually be capable of boosting magical/supernatural skills and abilities.

Next we have the Gift of the Paramour. At the core of this Gift is the trope of stopping a man dead in his tracks with a smile or a wink. With this Gift a Paramour can smile at some or offer them some other form of attractive expression and stun them for a few seconds. This ability can be resisted, but it almost guaranteed to work on those that are attracted to the giftbearer as long as it isn't overused.

On the surface, this Gift might seem weaker than the previous one and I would be inclined to agree with you if it weren't for the fact that there is another aspect to this Gift. Paramours revel in people finding them attractive. So much so that they become better able to utilise their non-magical skills on talents when they are the centre of attention. This is further enhanced when they are being witnessed by people that are notably attracted to them.

When cultivating this Gift, Paramours are able to stun multiple people at once or even keep a person stunned for as long as they maintain the gesture that stunned them. In the most extreme cases, this Gift can be used to paralyse or even kill a person.

Finally, we have Rowan's Gift, the Gift of the Passionate. As seen in the story, this Gift invigorates the giftbearer and their partners whenever they engage in passionate and potentially sensual acts. The invigorating potential of this Gift can even be enough to heal minor wounds. In extreme examples it may even bring someone back from the brink of death. Another aspect of this Gift that Rowan hasn't realised yet is that it also helps the giftbearer and their partners feel what the other is feeling as a result of the act.

Someone who has been invigorated by this Gift will also find themselves stronger, faster and more resilient. Alas, as with the other Gifts, there are some factors at play when determining the strength of the abilities it grants. The first of these is obviously how much the Gift has been cultivated. The other factor lies in the feelings of those involved. This factor is so important that when the Gift has been cultivated enough, the recipients don't even need to do any specific act as long as the feelings are strong enough. What I mean by this is that it can reach a point where the Gift can be triggered by the recipients looking at each other intently.

In addition to the previously mentioned enhancements to this Gift from cultivating it, with enough time and effort, a giftbearer can bring it to the point where it is able to mitigate the need for food or sleep.

And with that, we are done with this Insight. It ended up being quite a bit longer that I originally planned, but I am okay with that. It was fun and I hope you all enjoyed it. With that said, I shall say goodbye for now. Have a good day!

Patreon Insights: Languages of Ardent Tears

Hello Everyone. I know this is late and I'm sorry for that. I've had a busy week. With that in mind, this is going to be a rather short Insight breaking down the language families in Ardent Tears.

First we have the language family that the big three (Midiran, Ferran, and Særan) belong to which are collectively known as the Feldarin languages after the name of the region of Talras they inhabit. When designing these languages I took a lot of inspiration from the celtic languages of our world and I would describe them as feeling fairly fluid and melodic. This is due in large part to how plosives feature in the languages in addition to them being fairly heavy of fricatives and liquids. Unsurprisingly, this is the language family I have done the most work on.

Next we have the Ru'eni languages which can be found throughout the Ru'eni empire, though there is one that can be found in northern Terian'el. These languages are distantly related to the Feldarin languages as can be seen in the word Ru'eni. This literally means People of Crimson in the Ru'eni language and has the same proto roots as the word "rowan" does from the Feldarin languages. The main difference is that "eni" came to mean people in Ru'eni, whereas "an" typically marks an adjective as describing a person or specific trait of a person. All in all a small, but significant distinction.

As for inspiration, I opted to avoid leaning into any one source as the Ru'eni empire can be seen as an antagonistic force in the world and I have no intention of villain coding cultures from our world if I can help it. What I can say about the Ru'eni languages is that they are heavily stressed languages. So much so that they have ways of marking stress in the written forms of the languages.

For the third language family we have the admittedly unnamed family of the nations to the immediate east of Særis. In the grand scheme of things, they are closely related to the Feldarin languages, but with a more germanic spin. A big part as to why I don't have a name for this language family is because it would just be a linguistic classification instead of also being a cultural indicator which I feel is more important here.

Fourth, we have Gallian language family which is seen most commonly on the Gallian Plains of northern Talras. With the plainsfolk being a largely nomadic people, I looked to the nomadic tribes of our world for inspiration when designing their language. I can't go into much more detail here as the Gallian languages are very much in early alpha, as is the fifth language family of Xintalrasi, or Xin for short. The Xin languages are largely inspired by the various Chinese languages and other tonal languages from east asia.

Next, we have the Kairosi languages. With the exception of two distantly related offshoots, these languages can be found in the centre of Terian'el and it is mostly just different dialects of a single language. I'm not sure exactly what inspired the Kairosi languages beyond finding the clicks of the khoisan and bantu languages to be somewhat beautiful. Still, the main thing that the clicks inspired in Kairosi was the presence of ejectives instead of standard plosives as I can't do clicks consistently and I thought it would be interesting to do away with standard plosives. An interesting consequence of this is that Kairosi can't pronounce b's, d's, or g's and t's, p's, and k's are replaced with their ejective equivalents.

After the Kairosi we have the Al'duur and Miriel languages. I'm grouping these together despite being completely unrelated because they are in a similar stage of development. By this I mean I know enough about them in a cultural sense but they haven't seen much active development past a very basic skeleton. Granted, my reasons for this beyond it being a while before the languages become relevant depend largely on the race the language family is attributed to.

Out of the two, I know Al'duur will be the biggest challenge as they are inherently the least human which has a massive impact on the sounds they can make. Furthermore, their language evolved in the completely alien and isolated environment of Dreis. To say they have a unique worldview would be an understatement. For the Miriel, I'm mostly trying to work out how their racial gender fluidity might influence their language. 

Finally, we have all the other language families that exist in the world but are as of now, unnamed and lacking any real development beyond where they can be found on the world map. While I would love to make develop every language family in the world, I have to remember that I'm also an author and making a language for an isolated group of islands on the other side of the world that will never be encountered does nothing to help the story. I'm also not the tower of babel in tiny human form so my ability to linguistically populate an entire planet is somewhat limited.

With all that said, I will end this Insight here. I'll hopefully be back tomorrow, but as my workload is starting to pick up, my ability to get out an Insight Monday through Friday is somewhat strained. I'm still going to do as many each week as I am able, but my injury claim is hopefully nearing its conclusion so I'm getting things ready for commissioning a new cover as soon as I get the money and making sure I've got a good amount of Book 2 ready.

Patreon Insight: Solar, Lunar, and Terran Gifts

Hello everyone. Today is going to be a rather small Insight as I breakdown the three Gift types and how they differ. This isn't the first time I've covered gifts and it certainly won't be the last, but before I mostly looked at the Lunar Gifts. These are the Gifts that are received by humans, Ferrans, Miriel, Kairosi, and any other race that may be derived from humans. 

So, what about the others? Well, first off, let's start with some universal qualities that are shared between all three types. And now I'm regretting that phrasing as it makes it seem like there are significantly more shared qualities than there actually are. In reality, the main thing they share is that all complex life is granted a Gift based on what they are and when they were born/germinate.

Moving on to what makes the three types different, we have a fair bit more to talk about. As I've discussed before, Lunar Gifts are split into eleven sets of three with each Gift in a set sharing a common theme. Each set is also tied to a dual lunar cycle which is the period in which the two moons go from full to full. The gift that an individual receives in this period is determined by the orbit of Rowan'el as it takes three full orbits to complete a dual lunar cycle. Each lunation has a different gift tied to it. The exception to this is during a Lunar Eclipse which results in the individual getting a random Gift and a double Solar eclipse which hasn't been recorded. Overall, there are thirty three Lunar Gifts and the cycle repeats every three years..

As for Solar Gifts of the Al'duur, they are tied to the five seasons that are recognised on Illyria. Now before anyone asks, I know that the idea of there being five seasons is kinda weird, and I intend on covering it at a later date. Until then, I ask that you accept it as a quirk of the setting. Anyway, there are twenty Solar Gifts in total which are then divided into ten sets of two. Like with the Lunar Gifts, each of these sets has a theme associated with them. With Solar Gifts, however, the constituent Gifts are treated as opposing extremes within that theme. They are also granted based on which half of a season you are born in and the cycle repeats every two years. Furthermore, similarly to Lunar Gifts, Solar Eclipses result in the Al'duur receiving a random Solar Gift and no one is sure what happens during a double Solar eclipse.

Finally, we have Terran Gifts which are special case compared to the other types. Basically, I'm using Terran Gifts as a catchall term for the various Gifts that are granted to all other complex lifeforms, be they animals, plants or fungi. Terran Gifts are further divided by taxonomic genus. Each genus gets a set of six Gifts that can be granted to the members of said genus. The Gift is determined by the year that the lifeform is "born". For animals this is when they hatch or are birthed. For plants, it is when they germinate. For fungi, I admittedly do not know enough about them so they can be largely ignored but they do technically receive Gifts. Overall, Terran gifts tend to be weaker/simpler compared to Lunar and Solar Gifts and many of them are effectively shared between different genuses. 

And we are done. Until next time, farewell.

Patreon Insights: Religion

Hello! Today we will be looking at the topic of religion in Ardent Tears. It's a little late because I ended up rewriting the entire thing. With the divine being a known entity, most people on Illyria are religious to some but there are some that are iconoclasts or alatrists. These people are very much a minority and as we go further into this Insight, I'm sure you will come to understand why. I will also be focusing on the human faiths as I want to save the Al'duur for when they become more relevant to the story.

With that said, let's start with the basics. First off, when I say religion in the context of this Insight, I am referring to the shared practices of a community in relation to the gods they worship as a whole and how they go about worshipping them. A sect is the step below a religion and is typically more local. A cult refers to the shared practices and worship of a specific god. Cult practices are often distinct from those of the local religion as they are tied more to the god as opposed to the people and the community. Individuals and families may also worship in a more personalised sense that is separate from their religion. Different social groups may also worship other deities in addition to/instead of the ones worshipped by their main religion.

When a person worships a god, they gain a better understanding of the god's sphere of influence as well as their true name. A god's true name is special in that it is an idea or concept that is then translated by the individual's primary (typically their first) language. The slight exception to this rule of an individual learning a god's true name through worship is the three prime deities as all life on Illyria is born with an innate awareness of their existence and their true names, and their true names are subconsciously translated into every language they know instead of just their primary language.

Calling out or evoking a god's true name (as you understand) will all but guarantee a measure of their attention and grant them the ability to more directly Resonate with you or the purpose for which you evoked them. In some cases, this can be extremely dangerous or unpredictable, especially with the more powerful deities, as shown with the one time it happens in Book 1. For this reason, the gods are typically given various derivational names (e.g. Illyria) or titles (e.g. the Heart of the Sun, the Goddess, etc).

Another thing that happens when a god is worshipped or something is done to expand on their sphere of influence, they get stronger and more able to influence the world through said sphere. The worshipper also gets some small benefit in return, though the exact nature of this depends on the god and their relationship with the individual. In addition to this, worship creates dividends for everything under the god's sphere of influence, even if that includes someone that isn't worshipping them.

As for the nature of various religions of Ardent Tears, most are a mix of polytheism and animism with the three prime deities being at the heart of them all. The exception here lies in the few religions that take a more monotheistic approach, focusing mostly on the Goddess. These exceptions believe that the other prime deities are just aspects of the Goddess and that all other divines are her celestial servants.

Still, as such exceptions are unlikely to have much of an impact on the story I'll leave them here for now and we can get into the approach that the other religions follow. The standard baseline of belief in regards to the divine is that there are four tiers that matter. The first of these tiers should make sense as it's the three prime deities. 

Next we have the major deities. This tier is comprised of divine beings with broad spheres of influence. By this I mean the greater tutelary deities (e.g. patron deities of races, cultures, occupations, etc), gods of fundamental concepts (e.g. time, gravity, cosmology, etc), gods of human experience (e.g. disease, medicine, sex, agriculture, etc), greater nature deities (e.g weather, mountains, oceans, forests, etc), and the gods of the seven classical elements of Illyria. The astute of you may notice the potential for overlap in some of these character, such as with agriculture and farmings. This is intentional and each one is a different god. In this case there is a god of agriculture and a god of farmers. You can assume this to be true in similar cases.

Moving on, we have the lesser deities. These deities are known for having a more focused sphere of influence that is either derived from the broader spheres of greater deities or is operating at significantly smaller scale. When looking at the first type of lesser deity, they are typically recognised gods of specific things or places. For example, the god of a specific mountain or forest would be a lesser deity. The second type of lesser deity are almost always tutelary in nature. Examples include the guardian deity of a city or the patron deity of a specific institute (such as the Azure University).

The last tier is an odd one as it's somewhat to the side of the other three instead of in line with them. This is because it is comprised of the ancestral dead that have passed on to the divine realm. I'm not going to dwell too much on this tier as I could do an entire Insight on them. What I will say is that ancestral spirits can only interact with their living descendents and only when the family has continuously cultivated ancestor worship across the generations. When a family neglects their ancestors, only the most recent ones are able to include them in their sphere of influence. Fortunately, ancestor worship is fairly widespread.

Anyway, now that we've covered the different tiers of divine entities, we're almost done. To summarise, most religions practice a mix polytheism and animism and the gods they worship are all part of the same overall pantheon. Each of these religions have what I call a primary sphere of worship. This is essentially a list of the gods that the religion actively worships and/or acknowledged as being relevant to the culture the religion is tied to, In addition to the three prime deities, this list typically includes the majority of relevant major deities and some select lesser deities. The same logic can be applied to sects as they are derived from larger religions. 

In addition to religions, certain gods have dedicated cults which engage in various practices that are more specific to the god in question. Finally, individuals and families may worship gods that aren't typically worshipped by their religion or sect and they may also have more personal ways in which they practice said worship. These practices are typically in addition to the more traditional practices of their religion. Lastly, most families practice some measure of ancestor worship.

Patreon Insights: The Birth of Llen Færa

Hello again. Today we will be concluding this trilogy with the birth of Rowan's homeland. Out of the three nations, it is by far the youngest, at least in certain respects. It is also the one with the least to cover as much of the background information is in the other two Insights. There is still plenty to look into, however, so let's get this party started.

As I've mentioned before, Llen Færa is an island nation situated to the west of Særis. Modern day Llen Færa is comprised of the main island (from which the nation's name is derived) and the crescent shaped archipelago of smaller islands`to the west of the main island. The archipelago as a whole is also referred to as Avan in Fær and it is known for being a volcanic hotspot. 

One of the islands in particular is famed for very excitable volcano that created it. So much so in fact, that it is practically uninhabited. The main island, on the other hand, is mostly dormant. It is also the largest and most hospitable island in the chain so it isn't really surprising that it went on to become the heart of the nation.

For much of human history, Llen Færa and the nearby islands were sparsely populated at best. This changed with the first exodus from the growing Særis happened just over 1900 years ago. This exodus was led by a rather ambitious son of one of the clan chief's that were yet to bend the knee to Clan Særis. Rather than serve another clan, he and 500 others did what no one else dared do and ventured into the chain of fire even though it was experiencing a significant amount of volcanic activity at the time.

The name of this daring individual was Midraan and he went on to become the first king of Llen Færa. After he landed on Llen Færa, he parlayed with the indigenous populations, including the last of the Tærans, and in an impressive feat of diplomacy, they were able to live together in relative harmony and respect. When more people started arriving, Midraan and his companions made sure that the newcomers respected the unity they shared with the indigenous populations.

A few centuries later, there would be a second exodus with this one originating from Ferran. It happened in the wake of the double solar eclipse as the newly created Ferrans tried to escape from the alien moon-touched world they had found themselves in. Some of these Ferrans instead went north to Særis, but the number that ended up in Llen Færa was not insignificant. Seres' ancestors were amongst those that travelled there.

Not long after this, Særis would go on to try and claim Llen Færa. However, in this time, Llen Færa had established a powerful navy (at least for the time), and Særis very quickly realised their mistake. Rather than let the invasion attempt soil future relations between the two nations, Llen Færa approached Særis with a deal. The terms were simple; "apologise, give us some iron, and we'll let you in on a little secret."

Llen Færa had two reasons to be confident in their dealings with Særis. Not only did they have a superior navy, but the island was also a treasure trove for Resonance Crystals. They used this secret to leverage a trade deal with Særis that eventually evolved into an alliance. 

The third exodus happened at the time of the great war and it was comprised of a significant amount of people from both Særis and Ferran. Out of the three mass migrations to Llen Færa that have happened since, this was by far the largest. Of course, there have also been countless examples of people migrating in and out of the country of the course of its history, but never to the same scale. Rowan's family is one of the one's that moved to Llen Færa outside one of the three exoduses.

And here I shall conclude this trilogy. I skirted over a few things with Midraan as there is way too much risk of spoiling something major, or at least noteworthy, when talking about him and his companions. One thing I will say about him before I say goodnight, however, is that it from his name that the primary language of Llen Færa, the capital city, Midiris, and the main river that feeds it is derived.

Patreon Insights: The Birth of Ferran Llyr

Hello again. We are here for part 2 of this trilogy with the birth of what is now the Principality of Ferran. Before we go into that, I'll go into some details about the region that don't tie into its eventual evolution from a land occupied by various tribes and clans to the Principality of today. 

The first of these details is where the region is located. Ferran is situated on the western side of the Talrasian continent with Særis to the north and the Shield Mountains to the east. This location, along with some very important geological and meteorological factors, has led to the region being extremely fertile and rich in both fauna and flora. It is also theorised that the region played a vital role in early human migration and possibly even in their evolution, though such theories are still hotly debated by paleoanthropologists. This is partly due to there not being enough data, there being two more proposed cradles of early humankind, and scholars being biased.

Now you might be wondering why I'm telling you all this as it probably seems a wee bit superfluous. It's because much of this ties into some very key moments in the birth of Ferran Llyr. Fortunately, what I've said so far should be enough context for now. As such we will fast forward to the same point we started with yesterday. Like Særis, the Ferran and 2.5 thousand years ago was comprised of a large number of clans. Unlike Særis however, this network of clans came about following the collapse of an ancient civilisation that controlled the entire region. 

Ancient Ferran also differed in that it had a fair number of smaller interconnected clans as opposed to the larger and more typical clans of Særis. The Ferran clans were typically comprised of small communities that acted as kindred even if they weren't related by blood. Polycules were also fairly common amongst those that lacked blood ties. This is further facilitated by there being much more movement between the different clans, which is why I described it as a network of clans. 

A good way of imagining it is that when the cities of their old civilisation collapsed, they started to spread out over a larger area, but they kept the mindset of social mobility and that comes from being part of a larger community. As a result of this mindset, there is less separation between the clans even if the cities they once belonged to are a distant memory.

Furthermore, the transient network of clans meant that once the secrets of iron working were learnt by one clan, it was barely a matter of time before the rest followed suit. Alas, even with the knowledge being widespread amongst the clans, it took a good while longer for them to capitalise on it in the same way Clan Særis did. Fortunately, Clan Særis wasn't a threat to the clans and wouldn't be in a position where they could be a threat for a long time.

The clans remained much the same way for 500 or so years, at which point they started forming into larger communities. This continued up until the double solar eclipse that created the Ferran race. In addition to turning many of the people in the region into Ferran, everything else was also transformed in one way or another, including the land. As such, everything was significantly more dangerous than it had been before the eclipse and the communities had to grow even further if they wanted to survive the aftermath.

Fortunately, the generally communal disposition that had been fostered by the people was enhanced by the goddess' touch and the need to survive so the civil growing pains were mitigated. Additionally, some key figures were able to rise up in the wake of the mini cataclysm that was the the eclipse, including a few Ardents. Together they united the surviving Ferrans and the humans that weren't touched by the eclipse with one of them becoming the first Ferran Queen.

They spent the next few centuries adapting to the moon-touched landscape and everything that came with it as they didn't really have anywhere else they could go. Pretty much everything about their homeland had to be relearned and rediscovered as there was a very real risk of being caught unawares by a moon-touched plant or creature.

Before too long, however, the Ferran had fully adapted to their moon-touched homeland with the humans taking a while longer because of the lingering Resonance. It was at this point they started fostering positive relations with Særis as each nation was able to provide something of value to the other. Ferran would even offer a degree of martial aid during the Great Særan War in the form of 3 Ardents and roughly 100 skirmishers. Whilst this might not seem like much, they were critical to several battles.

After the was, Særis named Ferran a true ally and relations between the two nations remained strong for centuries. This isn't to say there weren't any rough patches, but they were negligible in the grand scheme of things. Alas, Ferran wasn't able to avoid hostilities from foreign powers indefinitely, even with Særis as an ally. 

As a consequence of their involvement in the Great War, Ferran managed to attract the eye of the Ru'eni Empire to the east. At first, this didn't seem like an issue, but to the Ru'eni, Ferran was a fertile goldmine and precious real estate. This became ever more apparent as they expanded further west and zoned in on the only easily navigable pass through the Shield Mountains.

The first Ru'eni incursion happened 732 years before Rowan was born. The Ferran were able to hold them off, but the Ru'eni didn't stop with just the one attempt. They tried again and again, each time bringing a larger force. Eventually they managed to break through and the Ferran had to rely on gorilla warfare as they mustered an Awakened Vanguard to push the Ru'eni back. 

At the same time, the Ferran king travelled to the Azure Court with only a single honour guard to ask Særis for aid. As he stood before the Særan king, he dropped to one knee and offered his crown. Fortunately, Særis had not forgotten it's debts to Ferran, so the Særan king told him to rise in order for them to be able to come an arrangement that suited both of them. In short, Ferran would become an almost completely autonomous vassal state with the king maintaining all his titles and Særis would send an army south to bolster the Ferran defence against the Ru'eni. Furthermore, the eldest Ferran princess would marry the the second third Særan prince and any future Ferran rulers will hold the title of Prince or Princess, instead of King/Queen. It is because this that the nation is now called the Principality of Ferran.

Anyway, the Særan Army rushed to south and the Awakened Vanguard started pushing back the Ru'eni incursion. With news reaching them that backup was on the way, they were able to push the Ru'eni back to the pass, though at great cost. When the Særan army arrived, only one Ardent still lived. The Ardent in question was Keilan, who is to this day, one of the most important Ardent's in Ferran history.

There have been several more attempts in the centuries since then, but all have failed as a result of the combined forces of Ferran and Særis. And thus, here we shall end this Insight. But before I go, I want to explain why I referred to the nation as Ferran Llyr in the beginning. The name means Hearthfolk Home, with Ferran meaning hearthfolk and Llyr meaning home. It's not a direct translation, but it's enough to get the idea across.

Now technically, the Llyr is still part of the official name but it is usually omitted. as people are lazy can usually work out if your talking about the place or the race based on context. In modern times, it is mostly used when referring to Ferran that come from Ferran. The term for this being Ferran na Llyr. This phrase is also where Rowan's family name of Naliir is derived from as Liir is the Old Ferran and modern Midiran way of saying Llyr.

And with that, I shall say good night. Join me tomorrow for part three of this trilogy where we look at the birth of Rowan's homeland of Llen Færa.

Patreon Insights: The Birth of Særis

Before I start this Insight, I must apologise for the delay. My sleep schedule was all over the place last week and to top it all off, I was sick amongst other things that certain Patrons will relate to. To keep apologies short, however, I will now move on to what you are all here for, the latest Patreon Insight. For this one I will be covering the birth of Særis as a nation. This will be the first of a trilogy in which I cover Særis, Llen Færa, and Ferran. As for why I'm starting with Særis instead of Rowan's homeland of Llen Færa, it's because Særis is much older than the other two.

With all that said, let's get started. Særis is a nation that encompasses the northwestern region of the Talrasian continent. Roughly 2.5 thousand years prior to the start of Ardent Tears, the region was occupied by a bunch of individual clans that fluctuated a fair bit in terms of size, wealth and power.

This all changed when a clan situated on what is now known as the Azure River discovered polished blue gemstones in the riverbed. As they investigated further, they found that the river had been hiding these flawless gemstones this whole time. The clan was able to then capitalise on this discovery with their above average size and strength to harvest the gems whilst disguising the operation as a fishing venture. This was successful as the clan was already known for trading fish derived goods to other nearby clans.

Once the clan had harvested a good selection of gemstones from the river, they started trading them, being careful to keep a tight hold on the market. As they were the only known source of the gemstones, they quickly earned a vast amount of wealth and power. This still wasn't enough to make them the dominant clan in the entire region, but it was certainly the start of their ultimate rise to power.

The clan started expanding their influence up and down the full length of the river. With greater reach than ever before, they were able to trade with the Ru'eni Empire that had recently rose to power on the other side of the continent due to the discovery of how to process iron. The clan bought the secrets of this discovery with an especially beautiful gemstone. This allowed them to capitalise on the iron rich land of northwestern Talras in a way that cemented their power.

Having entered the Iron Age, more and more clans started swearing fealty to the clan as they changed their name to Clan Særis (literally Clan Azure River). At first people thought the name was just a reference to how the river gave them the reach they needed to gain power. In time, however, it became known that the river itself was the source of the gemstones. Alas, it was far too late for anyone else to capitalise on this knowledge as Clan Særis already had full control of the river along with the weaponry and military strength to hold it.

In time, other sources of the gemstone were discovered, as were other gemstones of varying different colours, which further added to the wealth of the clan. This is due to gemstones being prized for their association with Resonance Crystals as, while they lack any magical properties, they possess the same physical qualities, making them excellent stand ins for jewellery. While this association didn't matter as much in the early days as Resonance Crystals weren't widely understood at that point, they were still considered valuable for the same reasons they are considered valuable here on earth.

By the time Clan Særis directly controlled roughly a third of the land that is now Særis, the leader of the clan claimed the title of High King and they started transitioning into the nation that we know today. This process began around 2000 years ago and it took 600 or so years to come to have direct control of the entire region. For the entirety of that time, Clan Særis has remained in power. The line of the first high king was almost wiped in an assassination attempt that resulted in one of the deadliest wars the Talrasian content has ever known. It was also the moment that sparked the first hostilities between Særis and the Ru'eni empire that had felt so far away up until that point. Fortunately the youngest survived and the line continues to this day.

Now I'm going to stop the Insight here as much of what matters after this point I want to cover in the story and is also beyond the scope of this Insight to begin with. For the stuff before this point, I'll be touching on it in the next two Insights as I'll need the extra context from there to properly explain it.

Patreon Insights: An Introduction to Commerce

Hello! As I said at the end of yesterday's Insight I'm going to be pacing myself with future Insights. I may have gone a bit overboard with the magic series, so hopefully this will be a little bit more digestible. As for what I'll be covering today, I'll be looking at commerce. Specifically, we'll be looking into Midiran currency and some of the more standard trade practices of the Azure Flame Alliance (Llen Færa, Særis, and Ferran).

As for which of these I'll be looking at first, let's go with coin; a subject which I'm sure is dear to many of our hearts. In Llen Færa we have four different coin denominations that are in widespread commercial use. First we have the copper penny. For the vast majority of people, this is the smallest denomination of currency worth thinking about as it's enough to buy a filling meal or two if you know where to look. Halfpennies do exist, but at that point, most people resort to bartering as a more practical form of trade.

Next we have the bronze coin which is more commonly called a bronze wheat as it is how much the average farmhand earns in a week. A bronze wheat is worth ten copper pennies. Continuing on ten bronze wheat will net you one silver link and ten silver links will get a gold crowns. As you can see, I opted for a decimal system because miss me with irregular bases for currency. Like I understand how the black magic that is the imperial system came to be, but currency?

Anyway, moving swiftly on, the silver link gets its name from being shaped almost like a link and the idea for it comes from one of the names for Llen Færa, or more accurately the area as a whole; the chain of fire (Avan in Fær). This name is in turn derived from the fact that Llen Færa (which itself translates to Isle of Flame) is accompanied by a chain of smaller volcanic islands.

Gold crowns are named because Llen Færa is at the heart of the nation and is the seat of the crown. Most people will only see a couple of crowns in their life times at most.

Now for all intents and purposes, Særis and Ferran use the same system. There are a few variances in the names, purities and perceived value, but you won't need to worry about any of that. I'll probably make a few nods to it, but currency is largely interchangeable between each nation. I'm not writing Spice and Wolf or a story about economics, after all.

Still, this does touch on what trade is like across the three nations. Due to the various trade agreements that are in place, there aren't any heavy tariffs placed on goods that are traded between each nation. This allows for fairly open market and has turned the alliance into an economic powerhouse that is able to stand against the Ru'eni empire.

And as promised, I will stop myself here before I go into wider trade relations or taxes. If you want me to touch on those topics in the future, let me in the comments below.

Patreon Insights: Magic Part 5 - Awakening

This is it, to conclude the first miniseries on Magic we will be looking at the most relevant system in the story, Awakening, and, by extension, Ardents and Stoics. Now, much like I did with Soulforging, there will be quite a few details that I will be avoiding here in favour of covering it in the narrative. There will still be fair part of Insight that may give hints as to why certain characters act as they do and what their motivations might be, so you may wish to leave this Insight for later. I will also be going into detail about are particular aspect of Awakening and how it ties in to Rowan's rather unique circumstances, so consider yourself doubly warned. Of course, some of the hints have already been addressed in the preview and others will come later in book 1, so it possible to reach some of the conclusions I am alluding to. 

With that said, let this be your final warning...

Still here?

Well in that case, let's get these deep dive started.

First off, I will take you back to the very first Insight where I went into my various inspirations for what became the different magic systems found throughout Ardent Tears. I mentioned Mistborn as being a big one and also discussed how Snapping reminded me of how trauma often served as a catalyst for BPD developing in adolescence. Well here I will expand on how those ideas informed my choices in terms of the Awakening process.

Basically, every single human, Ferran, Miriel, Kairosi, and any human-derived race that ever existed or might exist has the potential to Awaken as the ability is tied heavily to the Goddess and the two moons of Illyria. Still, while everyone has potential, this potential is by no means equal, not does it have any direct bearing on how strong the individual will be if they do Awaken. Furthermore, an individuals true potential at any given time is determined by their baseline potential and their age. To put it simply, an individual will never awaken before puberty and once they become an adult, the chances drop off dramatically. In numerical terms: <11 years is too young, 11-17 is prime for Awakening, 17-23 is a steep downward curve, >23 is essentially too old.

Of course, in the grand scheme of things, the likelihood of someone experiencing what I like to call a spontaneous Awakening is still close to 0. To clarify what I mean here, a spontaneous Awakening is when someone Awakens without any intense emotional experiences of particular note. This is because the Resonance that causes Awakening is dependent on an emotional response from the individual and the baseline usually isn't enough to create the required feedback loop. As such, to increase the odds further, the individual needs to have those intense emotional experience. What counts as an intense emotional experience varies from person to person.

Now, due to the varied nature of these experiences and the roll of potential, it is very difficult to engineer a situation where an individual will Awaken. There is, however, an exception that Rowan discovers early on by way of trauma. This obviously leads her to her eventual theory on what is happening in the caves. As for why this is seen as the exception is because trauma almost always qualifies as an intense emotional experience and in those rare cases where it isn't, the odds were already infinitesimally low.

Still, even with there being a relatively well known exception, the majority of people in the world do not see it as an ethical practice. Another issue with using trauma to engineer an individual's Awakening is that there is a likelihood that they will turn on the "engineer" if the attempt is successful. With this being the case, many considered it a fool's errand.

So what does this all mean for Awakening and the likelihood of it happening? All in all, on average we might expect just under 0.3% of the population will experience Awakening, though there have been times in history where it has been as high as 2%, if not higher. There's also a fair bit of variance based on race and location, though I'll discuss that in a wee bit as race also plays a role in which way an individual is likely to go after Awakening.

With that said, why do some people become Ardents and why do other become Stoics. For most people it depends on the individual's mindset and disposition, particularly at the time of their Awakening. Basically, what this means is that someone who is more expressive with their emotions will have a higher chance of being an Ardent and someone that is more reserved will probably be a Stoic. It's not a guarantee, but it certainly does increase the odds.

As for the rolls that the different races play. Ferrans have slightly higher potential than the other races and are also slightly more likely to be Ardents. Kairosi, on the other hand, tend to lean in the opposite direction. Meanwhile the Miriel are kind of a wildcard in that they have the highest rate of spontaneous Awakenings whilst also have the lowest rate of Awakenings in general. They also have no particular leaning towards being Ardents or Stoics. Humans also lack any particular leanings for which way they awaken.

Now it's worth noting that in addition to their racial dispositions, Ferrans also tend to be more expressive and Kairosi tend to be more reserved which further skews things even further. Overall this leads to a rough 60-40 split compared to the 50-50 split you seen in the other two races.

Of course, this isn't the whole story when it comes to the process of Awakening. In some cases, individuals start showing signs of Awakening in the days or sometimes weeks or months before it actually happens. This is typically due to them being pushed to the edge of Awakening by an emotionally significant experience, but not beyond it. At this point it's all but guaranteed that they will Awaken and which way they will go once they do. They will also start experiencing lesser variants of some of the abilities that await them in the future. 

This phenomena can also be seen in people like Rowan who's Awakening was already guaranteed. Furthermore, in the case of Rowan, she started experiencing the effects of this phenomena long before finally Awakened. This is due to her bloodline making her stronger than most other Ardents and because of Bragi bullying her from a young age which got the ball rolling for her developing BPD. 

Rowan's BPD also played another, very important role in making her even stronger as an Ardent when taken in conjunction with the various emotional peaks of her youth. From being bullied by Bragi to finding about Rina, her romance with Kiriin, and then her guilt about failing Tehri as a sister. Each of these experiences, as well as many that haven't been mentioned, would push on the edge of Awakening with her BPD amplifying the emotional load. 

As for why this is significant, what I call the edge of Awakening is kind of like a dam that holds back a tide of Resonance and grows in capacity whenever it is pushed to the point of almost breaking. When the dam does break, the Resonance is released all at once and a channel is created that forges a connection between the Goddess, the individual, and the Divine Realm. This connection is what defines an Ardent or Stoic and their initial power is determined by the size of the channels which is proportional to how much Resonance is released.

This takes us back to the dam's capacity being increased whenever it's strained. Now in most cases, the dam can only be strained like this once at the very most without breaking. In Rowan's case, however, the emotional intensity that resulted from her BPD made her dam more resilient so it was able to experience more strain before it basically disintegrated on the night of the eclipse.

Now before I go any further and move on to some more specific details regarding Ardents and Stoics, I'd like to say thank you for sticking with the very technical second half of the segment on Awakening. In world, a lot of this stuff is theoretical at best and still being researched, but as Rowan discovered, researching Ardents and Stoics is hard on account of there being so few. 

That's also why I went into the level of detail that I did, as any coverage of this topic in the narrative will most likely be a load of conjecture on Rowan's part based on her personal experiences. Whilst I know I'll have fun writing those segments and I reckon you will all enjoy reading them, I also don't believe your experience of those segments will be negatively impacted by you reading this first. Of course, I may be wrong, but I did warn you.

With that brief intermission done, let's move on to Ardents and Stoics. I'll start with how they derive their powers from emotions. For Ardents, this is easy; they get their powers from feeling intense emotions. Stoics, on the other hand, are a wee bit more complicated. At first, you might think they get power from the absence of emotion, but if that's the case, how would they experience any variation in the power level. It's not like you can negative emotional intensity, after all. 

So what does this mean? To answer this, I'll go back to Ardents for a second as by correcting a potential misconception with them, I'll have a more concrete foundation to work with. As for what this misconception is, we need to look at where they get their powers from. While it's true that they get them from intense emotions, that doesn't say much if you don't also have a zero point. 

The misconception is that the zero point is zero. Instead, the zero point is derived from an emotional baseline which is the level your emotions typically return to at rest and without any stimuli acting on them. Ardent's get their powers from their emotions deviating from this baseline, especially when they let their emotions react freely to anything and everything. The strength of their abilities is thus tied to the strength of the emotion and to the inverse of how much control they try to have over their emotions.

Taking this all back to Stoics, they also have an emotional baseline, even if it's lower on average and they are typically less expressive. They also experience rises to their emotions whenever they are exposed to different emotional stimuli. Granted, those rises aren't as much as a non-Stoic but they do happen and Stoics get power from resisting those emotional rises. The strength of their abilities is proportional to how much they are able to resist increases to their emotions. They can also gain power from having emotions at level that is lower than their baseline with the strength being dependent on how much lower the emotion is. This is doubly true if they are able to do this whilst also experiencing any kind of emotional stimulation.

Having completed this segment on power sources, we will now look at the abilities that are shared by Ardents and Stoics. First off, they are highly resistant to the vast majority of pathogens and are completely immune to any of the deleterious effects of aging. By extension, they also heal much faster than the vast majority non-Awakened individuals. These abilities result in Ardents and Stoics being theoretically immortal. Alas, most don't live long enough to put the theory to the test.

Setting potential immortality aside, Ardents and Stoics are capable of influencing the emotions of others. There are some restrictions in this regards. For example, Ardent's can only enhance emotions of others that they are feeling and that are sufficiently above the baselines of the other people. When they do this, they also enhance the emotion in themselves without any increase to how much power they are getting from said emotion. Likewise, Stoics can only dampen emotions they are actively resisting. When they do the emotion is dampened further without increase in power from said emotion.

The last shared ability I'll be mentioning here is the general enhancements they get whenever they draw power from emotions. Basically, in addition to the specific ability that they get from the emotion in question, they also get a general increase to their various physical abilities such as speed, strength, durability, etc as well as their ability to process information. These enhancements also indirectly help the Awakened individual take advantage of any skills or talents they may have.

Of course, in addition to these shared abilities, you have the large array of abilities that are granted by specific emotions. For this last segment I will be looking at how I determine what counts as a distinct emotion and how I decide on what abilities to give each emotion. For the first question, I mostly took inspiration from Plutchik's Wheel of Emotions. I then looked at other Emotional classification systems to see if there any gaps I could fill without going overboard. I also made sure to avoid any overlap with emotions already given by the wheel. 

All in all, I'm happy with the list. It does everything I want it to do and there is still room to expand upon it without causing bloat or plot holes. Still, the list is only half of the equation. We still need to look at what goes into deciding the different abilities. First off, each emotion only gets one ability for Ardents and one ability for Stoics. The abilities must also feel thematically in sync with the Ardent or Stoic interpretation of the emotion. Lastly, similar abilities must feel thematically and mechanically distinct. For example, there are a couple of emotions that can heal, but they do so in very different ways.

Now, these aren't the only rules, but I intend to keep the others to myself for now. Which means we're done. When you see me tomorrow we'll be moving on to a topic other that doesn't tie in to the magic of the world. At least not quite as directly as this mini-series. It will also be a lot less intense than the magic ones have been as I realise that some people may see this past week as being a bit much in regards to potential spoilers and the like. This wasn't my intent, but I also really wanted to gush about my magic systems as pretty much all my favourite bits of worldbuilding tie into the magic of the world in a big way. 

At the same time, I also need to pace myself before I accidentally write an entire books worth of insights. Whilst I'm not against the idea in the long run, I want to have book 1 and a good chunk of book 2 released before it gets to that point. I also want to cover a lot of the more interesting or spicy bits or worldbuilding in the narrative first, before diving into them here. 

As for what I'm going to cover next? I'm not sure. Hopefully something I can do in 500 words instead of 2000. Maybe an introduction to currency in the world. Its relevant to Rowan by way of her father but also something that isn't going to be much of a focus whilst being kind of neat. Anyway, This has taken much longer to write so I'm going to say goodbye for now.

Patreon Insights: Magic Part 4 - Soulforging

To end off this first week of Patreon Insights we'll be looking into Soulforging and what makes it both special and a rarity. However, before we start, I will point out that this is a system that is not referenced in any real way through the course of the preview so some of you may consider this to be too much of a spoiler. If that is the case, I recommend putting this to the side for now and coming back when you are ready.

Now without further ado, let's get started. As with all the sub-systems we've discussed so far, Soulforging is dependent on Resonance. This is because a Soulforged object is a physical object that holds the soul of an individual that had a strong bond with the item or it's intended purpose. I'm sure you can see already how this is a major contributing factor into why Soulforging is not the norm. Alas, it only tells you what a Soulforged object is, and not how it happens or why someone would do it. For that, we need to dive deeper.

So, first things first; why? Well there are few answers to this question, but it mostly comes down to the individual wanting to leave their mark on the world. This is by far the most common reason with a desire to protect or unfinished business coming in just behind. It's no surprise that these are the dominant reasons compared to say, just wanting to make something better as their is another aspect of Soulforging that requires true conviction. 

When people die, they pass on to the divine realm where they can be reunited with their loved ones. Those that become part of a Soulforged object cannot pass on; their chance at an afterlife at that point is all but zero. Furthermore, this was discovered to be the case long before the first Soulforging. With this in mind, I'm sure you can all see how much of a sacrifice it is. It also helps that greater conviction is an indicator for stronger Resonance in regards to Soulforging.

Still, there have been attempts to produce Soulforged items at scale. The Ru'eni empire in particular has tried a few times, but there have been no successful attempts recorded. If this is due to it being impossible or because of military secrecy, however, is a mystery. What I can say though, is that it would only get a couple at most, and even then it wouldn't be something you could repeat and any properties received by the items as a result of the process would likely be below par compared to more authentic examples.

With that said, you may be wondering what properties you might see on a Soulforged item. I won't go into specifics, but I will cover what goes into determining them. First off, we need to consider what the item is. This is because the item's function is typically enhanced in one way or another. The second factor comes from the individual and what they were like in life as well as their purpose for becoming Soulforged. I will also add that how the person is perceived as well as anything they are publicly known for are very important when it comes to this factor as those ideas a more prevalent in the shared zeitgeist. The third factor lies in the connection that the individual has to the item, which refines the list of potential properties to be more in line with said connection.

If we look at the three factors side by side, the second is most likely to result in more esoteric properties whereas the first tends to be more vanilla and the third is a more focused mix of the two. Granted, these factors are only super important for the more item specific properties. There are also a few properties that we see pretty much universally. The big one here is that the presence of a soul makes Soulforged objects very resistant to permanent damage. This is achieved in one of two ways. Either the item is capable of repairing itself, or it's nigh indestructible. Soulforged items are also just universally better at performing their intended function. You then have a few with more specific enhancements in this regard which is where the first factor comes in to play. Lastly, Soulforged objects can restrict their abilities if they feel as though someone unworthy is trying to use them.

Now, as I come to the end of this insight, you will notice that I've been avoiding specific examples. This is because Soulforging will play a fairly important role throughout the story and I feel like the specifics should be explored alongside Rowan in the narrative as a lot of it will be new to her. With that said, I shall bring this insight to its end as I apologise for it being late. My health conspired against me and now I'm conspiring to make it less likely to happen again. Anyways, I hope you've enjoyed this first week of insights and I look forward to what the next week will bring.

Slight Delay

Today's Patreon Insight is going to be a little late because I'm currently suffering from a migraine and I don't want the quality to suffer as a result. I'm currently about halfway done and I'll be going back to it once I'm able to think straight again. Next week I'm going to do my best to have all the Insights done at least a day in advance so this doesn't happen again. Once again, I'm sorry for the delay