Another Step (Solo)

[Razia]

Timestamp: 5th of Spring, 512 AV The djed storm had torn apart the forest, leaving carcasses of grand trees sprawled over one another, towering colossus slain by the ferocious wind. Razia had evaded the destruction of Zeltiva due to an outing to the east, but she returned to a ruined camp that took days to rebuild. Now, parchment lay strewn about the clearing, bits here and there aggressively torn, others crumpled into various distorted shapes, others blown to and fro by the subtle breeze. A large map was pegged to the trunk of a knotted tree, hanging by a dagger. Rough lines were painted over it in red, connecting dots that marked great cities across the northern regions of Mizahar. The painted path came to a sudden halt at a dot sloppily marked “Zeltiva” in the angular language of Nari. This language marked each of the pieces of parchment, some in red, others in black ink, and others yet in charcoal and other colors of paint. They lay scattered over the clearing like rubble after a fierce storm. Seated in the center was the storm itself. Razia sat erect on the ground; legs folded and elbows resting on her knees, face in hands and slender fingers clutching her short, unkempt hair. Her jaw was clenched, her face pale, eyes shut tight to hold back the tears that stung them. Her chest heaved with ragged breaths, and for a long while, she sat, mind racing in a wild fit of rage. Not a few feet away from the mess, Anthion was nestled into a shallow bed of beaten down grass, branches, and other bits of debris. He watched his rider, concern hidden behind a mask void of emotion. The giant eagle was silenced in the wake of a hurricane of anger, taken out on him yet directed elsewhere. Though deeply hurt, he stayed put, knowing that he was not the subject of Razia’s frustration. Andaer had flitted away at the beginning of the argument, terrified by the Inarta’s livid tone. He approached, now, hopping in the treetops a little ways away behind Anthion, wary of his master. “I’m sorry…” The words came muffled from Razia’s gritted teeth. Anthion made no reply, only nodded curtly, lowering his gaze to blankly study the woven grass below him. The Inarta sat up with a palliative inhale. Her arms loosened, and her hands fell, fingers setting to work absently picking at the grass. Her eyes drifted toward the sky, half expecting to see what she was searching for there. She was met with disappointment at the clear blue ocean above. Letting out the breath, she lowered her gaze to the nearest piece of parchment, and reached out to lift it with the tips of her fingers. Another step in the journey. Another clue, maybe not. Either way, it would lead her to a new place. Would he be there? Would he even be alive? Five years of searching, and she always came up empty handed. The trail always went cold. It seemed to evade her at every turn, and she was left with nothing but a lingering hope, a distant echo of what once could have been the path she followed. She’d settled in Zeltiva, allowed the trail to wander away from her, in order to become something stronger than what she was. It had strengthened her, but she had not thought that the trail would come to her. Another clue would present itself? It was ludicrous to think that after all these years, there was still something. Perhaps it really was him. Maybe an old friend he had contacted. No matter what, it was her duty to find out. Her task. Her purpose. She looked to Anthion, the strong and responsible part of her. He’d always kept her in line, always flooded her emotional states with logic, always kept her safe. His thunderous voice from just moments before echoed in her thoughts. “This isn’t worth chasing a ghost anymore, Razia! You need to live your own life.” He hissed, feathers furrowed in excitement. Razia spun on her heel, snarling at him, “How dare you! This is my life! I’m not going to just give up now that I’m so close!” She barked, stomping toward him. “This is no way to live your life! Razia, it’s over. You don’t even know if he’s alive.” The Eagle flinched back as she came closer to him, “He’s all that I have! How dare you try to pull me away from him.” This comment caused Anthion’s eyes to cease to avert and meet her fiery gaze. Anger melted into hurt, and he stepped back. “All that you have?” His voice died down to a stifled whisper. He looked away, lowering his head. Razia’s rage lulled a moment, jaw hanging slightly ajar as she fought to find words to say. Instead, she spun around with a gruff hiss, settling into the middle of the clearing and burying her face in her hands. He still looked dejected. “I didn’t mean it…” She tried, but he still avoided her gaze. How could he not see that this was important to her? It was the only thing that mattered… But perhaps he was right. Maybe this was a waste of time after all. What would she do when- if she did find him? Would he be alive? Would he remember her? Would she even live through the journey? She glanced back to the map. Circles marred the northern most area, near Avanthal. The trail always pointed to the frost-covered, lifeless mountains. Perilous and unforgiving as they were, she knew that her father was alive. She couldn’t bear the thought that he could be overtaken by such extremes. Something had happened, and he had to go into hiding. Or he was lost… Or injured. But not dead. No, he had to be alive… He had to. She stood, making her way to her tent and crawling inside, tossing the few items within out onto the grass. Anthion watched, defeated. However, he raised his head as she appeared again, chirping quietly. “So we’re going, then?” He summoned a fraction of his voice to ask the inquiry. Razia responded with a silent nod as she pulled out the center structure of the tent, collapsing it. “I have to do this.” She bent to lift armfuls of torn canvas fabric, laying it across the grass and folding it gently. She paused, looking up to meet her companion’s gaze, “If this doesn’t lead anywhere, I promise it will be the last of it.” The words were obviously difficult, coming out in a forced and reluctant tone. Folding the tent, she stuffed it into a leather saddlebag that hung on a nearby tree branch. After a few more minutes of tossing items into the bag, she stopped once more, turning to face the colossal eagle. A few steps closed the gap between them, and she stood before him, staring up. “And if it does… Lead somewhere,” she hesitated between words, searching her thoughts for the right ones, “then will you support me in this?” Anthion looked skeptical at first, letting out a long and arduous sigh before lowering his head enough to nuzzle his beak against her shoulder. “I will take you to the ends of the earth. Protect you. Honor your decisions. This is my duty.” He paused, looking up at her, “But I see this slowly tear the life out of you. I long to see you live a good life.” Razia frowned, biting back tears again. She wrapped her arms around his beak, running her fingers through his feathers. “I will. I just can’t rest until I know what happened.” He rested her cheek against his beak, closing her eyes. A minute, and she pulled away, returning to her packing. Anthion turned to gaze at the map pinned to the tree, watching as Razia approached it with a fine tipped paintbrush, carefully continuing the path from Zeltiva to the right. “Sunberth,” she sighed, wiggling the dagger free and folding the map. Anthion looked toward the sky, blinking. Another step in their journey toward the unknown.