Aelthar:

“You called, Umbrarch Horcus?”

Antael knelt before the large altar in the center of the temple. His black hair fell in front of his face as he bowed his head.

“I did, yes. Please, rise.”

Antael did as asked. As he raised his head, he came almost face to face with the hulking beast that sat besides Umbrach Horcus’ throne. The beast’s form flickered like shadows cast by a fire, yet the eyes and teeth were ever present. Ever hungry.

Umbrarch Horcus stood up from his throne to address Antael. His age had started to show, yet he was as strong as ever, if not more. He’d held the position of Umbrarch for as long as Antael had been here. His charms as the grandfather of the temple along with the fear his summons of shadow inspired made it so no one would even think of usurping.

“It is time for you to truly prove you are a part of our family, Antael.”

Antael tried his best to keep a monotone face, even as the words stung. He had only spent the last 20 years here. Umbrach Horcus conjured forth the image of a young man, a few years younger than Antael himself. His skin grey, hair white and eyes bright ember.

“We have found someone we thought lost for many years. This young man here was… stolen from us, almost as many years ago as when you joined us. But now, we have found him. And we need you to convince him to come back here. Back to us.”

Antael looked at the image. The man looked oddly familiar, yet Antael couldn’t quite figure out why. Yet, he tried to shake the feeling.

“And if he won’t come with me?”

With a flick of his fingers, the image of the young man changed to the Fallen Kingdom. The image moved down into the Himari Kingdom, to a small farm, where a man and woman worked.

“Then you make sure he has incentive to come back here anyways,” Umbrarch Horcus said, a smile hiding the devious look in his eyes.

“Consider it done,” Antael said, and turned to walk.

“Oh, and Antael?”

Antael stopped, and looked back towards Umbrarch Horcus

“Remember who your true family is. Do this, and you will truly be a member of the Visilis family.”

Wordlessly, Antael turned back towards the door, and headed out. As he got outside, he mounted his horse, and rode off. Still, as he rode, he couldn’t shake the feeling of familiarity.

Alexei:

The Boar sits at her desk, rubbing her temple with the palm of her hand. A deep sigh escapes her lips as she drops the letter. There’s a knock at the door, which distracts her from the letter, if only briefly. Upon being called in by The Boar, the grizzly, middle aged elf opens the door, and steps inside.

“Jay. What can I do for you on this fine evening?”

There’s a minor twitch in The Bluejay’s eye, as he seemingly notices the sour mood The Boar is in. However, he elects to ignore it.

“They took Isandor.”

“Oh. How exciting. Glad our little angel could be such a help to our great nation,” The Boar says, her voice filled with sarcasm and rolling her eyes.

“Well here’s the thing - apparently, not so much. She, and the group she worked with, seems to have betrayed Myridon, attempting to assassinate General D’Vaelan. They failed, but Selwyn of the Black Clover Swords got killed, and they’ve become some of the most wanted in the Myridon Dynasty now.”

Upon hearing these words, there’s a mixture of amusement and hope in The Boar’s eyes.

“Seems our girl hasn’t completely forgotten herself.”

“Apparently not,” The Bluejay answers with a smile, before beginning to head back out.

With a sigh, The Boar tosses the letter to the other side of the desk, towards The Bluejay.

“Speaking of Alexei.”

The Bluejay makes his way back over to the desk, and glances at the letter.

“Another one?”

The Boar simply nods a tense yes.

“Do you think we should tell her, if she ever returns here?” asks the Bluejay

“No. I don’t. You know this,” The Boar retorts.

“Tazna-”

“You’re dismissed, Jay,” Tazna coldly states. The Bluejay stands for a second, before walking out again.

Tazna, now alone in her office again, sighs once more and rubs her temple again.

“This could get bad,” she mumbles to herself, staring at the letter on her desk, signed V.A.

Arani:

It’s cold.

Has it been minutes?

Days?

Months?

Years?

I can’t tell. I can’t tell much anymore. My body aches, and yet, I cannot do anything to relieve it.

I can tell it’s cold. I do not know if it is the chilly air of the mountain peak, or if it is my body, deprived of my heart beating warm blood throughout my veins.

Am I even still on the mountain?

I tried calling before. Calling out for anyone who could hear me, yet no sound escapes my mouth.

I called for Mother too, but I fear no prayers escape my head either. And I called for them all, a thousand times over. Yet no one will answer.

Rehael. Esme. Ira. Carel.

Arani.

There’s warmth for a short while. I do not recognize this warmth, but I know it sees me.

Then the warmth fades.

Now I know warmth, the cold feels worse.

Mika:

What is happening?

Meiavor was there, then he was friends with Minravints, then Sails tried to stab Arani, and then Mikas old friends fought Mika and her new friends.

Why would they try to attack Mika?

The more questions Mika tries to answer, the more questions Mika has. Why does Mika have so many questions?

I don’t really know what I’m doing. I hit Arani, because she killed Divin. Aelthar killed Misdielle, but she was not really dead anyways? Alexei hit Arani. Why did they hit each other? Why does everyone have to fight? Why is everyone angry? Why is Mika not angry? I am just… sad.

“Mika is going to be okay,” I try to say. Mika is frantically looking around. Minravints, Sails and Divin are following. Why are they following? Are they friends? Are they angry?

Mika doesn’t wanna find out. Mika just wants to run. So I run. I run away from them all. They don’t follow.

“Mika is going to be okay,” I say again. I try to calm the panic, but Mikas heart is beating so hard it hurts and it will not calm down.

Mika is crying so I don’t see the branch on the ground. Mika trips and Mika doesn’t get up. Mika just cries.

I get up on my knees as Mika’s heart still might beat its way out of Mika’s chest. It hurts. It hurts very much. More than one thousand knives stabbing over and over.

So I scream. Mika screams until Mika’s voice strains. Mika screams so hard Mika’s horns start to vibrate, and Mika’s skin becomes white, and Mika’s veins become clear.

When Mika stops screaming, Mika’s horns stop vibrating. Mika’s skin gets color again. But Mika’s veins do not fade again. They are dark, as dark as I feel inside my heart. And my heart hurts. And it beats.

Then, the sun shines on Hidden Hope behind Mika. As Mika turns around, Mika sees it’s not the sun. It’s a woman. She has wings. Pretty wings.

“Mika is going to be okay,” I try to say another time. Mika doesn’t really hear it.

Thalia:

Agnese stood over the table, next to Veora, the expedition leader. He had been hired by this peculiar group of archaeologists on their expedition to Gardmore Abbey, mostly as a bodyguard, but also because of his religious connections. In the message extended to him, asking for his service, it had been explained to him that this excavation was of a temple once dedicated to Vitrix, but throughout time had also seen worship of gods of good, such as Ioun and Helm.

As he looked at Veora, he with a chuckle was reminded of his own shock upon arriving at the Abbey. The entire expedition team consisted of minotaurs. They had however been quick to explain that they were the ones who sent for his help, and they truly were not their savage brothers, the followers of Baphomet - they followed Ioun instead. And throughout the stay, this had been confirmed, as this crew of minotaurs were indeed fine folk - much better in fact than the ones he and Thalia had traveled with in their time.

There was a sharp pain in his heart as he thought of Thalia. She was like a sister to him, and they had been apart for quite a while now. And looking up towards the top of the hill, he wished she was here. If not for the company alone, also for the help. This was a dangerous site - while he had not seen them, he had heard talk of undead, aberrations and fey roaming these hills, drawn by strange magics and history in the area.

With a clap of his large hands, snapping Agnese out of his thoughts, Veora signaled it was time to go. Agnese, Veora and a few others were to head to a holy well known as the Font of Ioun, deep in the Feygrove. Agnese grabbed his bag, and off they were.

A feeling of dread ran down Agnese’s back. Most of the group had already been snatched by the strange hounds that had stalked them from the moment they set foot in the Feygrove. He watched as five little wounds then appeared in Veora’s chest. Watching on in horror, he saw the figure of a withered and hunched female. Through the horror, he didn’t manage to see the two other figures creeping up on either side of him. Suddenly, he felt very, very tired.

“This one will do nicely.”

Agnese woke up bound, the old crones surrounding him. One stood crouched over him, the warts, blemishes and her foul stench violating his senses.

“Sit still now, dearest.”

As she poked her long claw into his eye, he could do little but scream in pain.