As Kavala placed her fingers into the first of the sunken grips in the stone, she thought she could feel a muted hum in the stone. It didn't feel like any magic she had encountered thus far, it seemed more like a physical representation of the spiritual power that permeated the entire area. As she softly spoke the quiet chant of prayers while reaching for the next handhold, a thought occurred to her. Back at the Post, the isur had adorned their homes, businesses and pretty much every available spot with architectural wonders; arches, pillars, statues, tapestries and carvings representing all things isur. Even the small cabin that her an Emaneus stayed the night at on their trip into the mountains had the symbolic pillars. Yet as she climbed toward the place known to be one of if not the most holy of isurian sites, there were no grand religious trappings, no statues, no great architectural displays. There was only a sheer mountain face with finger holes sunk into the stone. Somehow, the lack of display however felt appropriate. The site was left as it was centuries ago. That in itself seemed profound.
Kavala continued her ascent. The handholds made the otherwise dangerous climb easier as their was always one in close enough proximity that all she needed to do is reach out with a hand or a foot and she would find a grip. As she approached twenty five feet from where she started, the small outcropping of rock was still nearly fifty feet further up. Night had now set in and the cool air allowed her to see her own breath. If she were to brave a look down, she could see the shapes of Emaneus and Istaris sitting around a small campfire.
A couple more feet she climbed before a thick fog drifted in and surrounded her. Visibility was reduced to less than a few feet in any direction. While that could be a bit troubling, what was more immediately concerning was the fact that the handholds she had been using had vanished. There was nothing but unmarred rock. Then came the sense that she was not alone; there was someone else there with her. She felt her hand reach out to feel the stone in front of her and she lost a beat or two of her heart. Her left hand was not her own. It was larger and thicker with raised silver veins parting the flesh. The hand touched the stone and seemed to be searching for some sort of grip yet there wasn't one. Kavala then felt herself look down at her other arm with its fingers sunk into the stone. It was the color of deep crimson with more silver veins stretching from hand to shoulder. Elaborate markings also formed a beautiful geometric pattern from his wrist all the way up to the shoulder. As one marked by multiple deities, Kavala recognized the marks on the arm as divinely related.
As a Dreamwalker, it didn't take Kavala long to recognize that she was sharing the body of a male isur. She shared his senses and even got a sense of his general emotions. However, what was happening still felt very different from Dreamwalking. What she was feeling was profoundly intimate and real as if she wasn't just reliving a memory but was actually there with whoever this man was. She felt his flesh hand switch places with his metallic one to hold his weight. Then, she felt his body tense for a moment before he pulled himself upwards with such force that it lifted his entire body further up the stone wall before quickly making his own grip in the rock; his fingers sinking into and once more holding him in place. The man took a glance below him yet there was only fog. Kavala could see that he wore a fur cloak with a silver clasp etched with the symbol of a fist holding a hammer. He also wore a fur loincloth and thick fur boots. His arms, chest and legs, his entire body, looked as though it was sculpted from a block of stone by a master artisan.
Kavala could feel every movement of his body as the man hung from the side of the rocky wall before continuing to climb. She could also sense his extreme fatigue. She could tell he hadn't slept in days before he decided to make such a climb. He was hungry; having shared any food he had managed to gather or hunt with others. She watched as the man was now but a couple arm lengths from the outcropping; a distance that he quickly closed. Kavala saw and felt the man's hands take grip on the edge of the outcropping before pulling his body up and over to rest on the ledge. Kavala felt the deep breaths of exhaustion and felt the burning of over-exerted muscles. As much as his body yearned for rest, the man pushed forward to kneel and then stand.
Kavala saw what he saw, a cave opening roughly cut into the mountain face and extending into the rock some unknown distance. The mist was still thick all around and Kavala could not make out much around her because of it. The man, apparently unarmed and unarmored, cautiously took a few steps to the mouth of the cave. Kavala got a flash of memory of the man losing his sword in a battle with some great beast; the details of what it was blurred as if the man did not want to remember all that happened. Reaching out, Kavala watched him run his metallic fingers across the stone before sinking his hand into it. She could feel the stone part as he effortlessly carved out a chunk of stone about a foot long and tapered and pulled it free from the surrounding rock. He then proceeded to quickly shape it into a pointed spike as one would shape a piece of wet clay. Now armed, he stepped into the cave.
The mist began to lighten as the man took several cautious steps forward. As the mist faded, Kavala's shared sight pierced through the darkness. The man's vision was such that he could see in black and white; yet no color as there was no light. The cave walls were rough as was the floor and ceiling. The further he went, the more uneven the floor became, forcing him to take greater care in his footing. Kavala could sense that the man had no fear of breaking an ankle on the uneven rock since he knew that breaking a bone was impossibly difficult for him.
As the time the two shared the man's body grew longer, Kavala felt more and more of his feelings, both physical and mental as well as beginning to see flashes of memories not her own. As the man made his way further and further into the cave, Kavala got a brief glimpse at another memory. The man was stumbling through a half-collapsed darkened tunnel. The smell of smoke filled the surrounding air and the muffled sounds of screams could be heard in the distance. The man climbed over piles of rock that blocked his way as he quickly yet cautiously pushed forward. The tunnel soon became too collapsed to go any further. The screaming could be heard coming from the other side of the collapsed tunnel. With focused determination driven by no small amount of fear, the man began digging into the rubble. With his metallic hand and arm, he cut the stone and flung it aside. He continued to dig, put at, cut through and throw the stone out of his way until he finally broke through to the other side. As he made a hole large enough to step through, he was greeted with devastation.
The tunnel he cleared his way through had led from the great cavern housing the main city of the Old Kingdom of the Isur, Izurith. The city was gone, destroyed by the eruption of a volcano just beneath it. The man had already led so many in an escape from the destruction but there was one more section that branched from the cavern that still had yet to be saved. The sounds of the screaming had told him people were still alive and he couldn't leave them behind. As he left the tunnel, he entered a small cavern that had once served as a housing district. Buildings that had once lined the cavern walls from floor to ceiling now lie in partial ruins. Isur architecture kept man of them in place although many others now littered the central plaza. While this particular housing district had been saved from the horrors that happened in the great cavern, the quakes had done their damage. Bodies and in places, their parts, could be seen sticking out of the rubble. As strong as the isur were, they were no match for tons of falling stone.
The man followed the sounds of the screams and cries for help through broken streets and collapsed alleyways. As he went, he would help lift stone and push through rubble to free those who were trapped. As he freed people, they worked to help free others at his direction. Men, women and children all had suffered. They were scared, confused and injured and they looked to the man above all others to help them. Help them he did as he led nearly 100 people from the ruined district, back through the tunnel he came through and to a branching tunnel that led to the outside world. Once outside, the people joined a mass of thousands who gathered at the base of a once great mountain that had since collapsed in on itself and now spewed ash and lava from its heart. The memory dissolved and Kavala could see now an opening a few yards forward that allowed an exit from the cave. Although she could still recall the images from the memory, the only words that she could remember being spoken by anyone were, "My Lord, Isengir and King Sultros."
The mist began to rise again as the man stepped out of the opposite side of the cave and onto a large cliff; the man Kavala realized was actually the legendary isurian king, Isengir Izurus Sultros. The mist was still relatively thin save for the edge of the cliff where it became a nearly impenetrable fog. Other than that, there was nothing; a dead end. The king walked several feet from the mouth of the cave and stopped. Kavala could feel a sense of hopelessness beginning to settle in. Sultros had led his people from their doomed home, traveled the Unforgiving, fought the elements, the beasts as well as the warped magical horrors brought on by what seemed like the end of the world only to find himself at a dead end. He followed the signs he thought Izurdin had left him; followed the path he thought had been laid out only to have it end in ruin. His people waited for him back down the mountain. They were tired, afraid, sick, injured and desperate.
Left with nothing else, Sultros dropped to one knee, lowered his head and prayed aloud. Although his words were spoken in isur, Kavala understood them. "Divine Father, we've been through so much. We've lost so much. Have we not been strong enough? Patient enough? Have we not overcome the impossible? I have run out of answers for their questions. Now, when I was certain that the answers would be found here I find nothing. I've failed."
There was a deep silence. There was no sounds of wind, wildlife, anything. As a mother, Kavala recognized the sadness and need a child had for its parent. Sultros, despite being 100 years old and the leader of an entire race, now seemed ever more like a son looking for his father in desperate need of comfort and guidance.
Then came a voice from behind. It was deep yet held a softness to it. To Kavala it came by surprise and startled her. However for Sultros, Kavala could feel an immense weight suddenly lifted from his overburdened shoulders. "Isengir..."
Sultros still kneeling, turned to face the one who spoke. "Divine Father..." His head still lowered, he slowly raised it. Kavala then saw the one who Sultros had called out to. He was an isur, only slightly taller than others she had seen. He had short, dark hair and his face was clean shaven. His left arm was a brilliant crimson and his body was nothing short of perfect. He was dressed in a leather battle skirt and black boots. The smell of forge fires filled the surrounding area. Izurdin stood before them.
With a dismissive wave of his hand and a soft look on his face, Izurdin told Sultros, "Enough of that. You need not kneel to me. Stand up."
Sultros rose to his feet and took a couple steps toward Izurdin before stopping. His entire posture fell as he stumbled over the words. "Father, I beg your forgiveness. I've failed."
Izurdin shook his head, approached Sultros and embraced him. Kavala could feel the god's touch as if it were on her own flesh. He was warm, extremely warm. The chilled air of the mountains melted away in such close proximity to Izurdin. "Isengir...you need not ask my forgiveness. You did not fail. It is I who should beg your forgiveness." Izurdin released Sultros and took a step back. "I was not there when our people needed me most. I left you alone with little more than a vague vision to follow. To not be able to step in and save all of you is unforgivable. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't."
Izurdin began to slowly pace back and forth in front of Sultros. Kavala couldn't help but notice that the god appeared nervous; a concept that came no short of baffling. "All that happened...the city's destruction, the land's upheaval, the fires, the unending devastation...It was Ivak. The humans betrayed him, they killed the one thing that could calm the raging volcano and released his wrath upon the world." Izurdin paused for a moment, the look on his face was one of pain.
"I could not let his rage destroy what I had worked so hard to help create. I had to stop him. I imprisoned him deep underground and muffled his rage. To one such as Ivak, this was a terrible yet necessary thing to do. It took everything I had to do it and left me unable to help my children...to help you." Izurdin looked to Sultros, his gaze piercing deeply, so deep that Kavala felt he was looking directly at her.
"As I said, you did not fail. My son, you did what only a god could do. You saved your entire race from certain destruction at the hands of enraged god of fire who in his despair thought to destroy the entire world. You acted when I could not. All that was lost, all that was sacrificed, by our people, by you, has not been in vain. You have succeeded where I failed." Izurdin approached Sultros once more, raised his hand and rested it on the king's shoulder. "Isengir Izurus Sultros, King and Savior of the Isur, my son...now, my champion." Kavala watched as Izurdin's hand was instantly consumed in a crimson fire. The flames painlessly spread from his hand to Sultros' metallic shoulder, down his arm and engulfed his hand. The existing geometric shapes and patterns of his existing gnosis marks flared with a silver light as more patterns grew and spread down to his hand, over his fingers and on his palm. Kavala could feel an awareness fill Sultros' mind as his connection to Izurdin reached its pinnacle. Kavala felt as though she were filled with a love stronger than any bond imaginable. Every movement, every action, every word, every feeling would be an extension of Izurdin himself.
The crimson fire faded and silver brilliance of Sultros' marks dimmed. Sultros looked at his hand and the patterns that covered it. Although an occasion to be celebrated above all others, he did not smile. Looking back at Izurdin he said, "Thank you father...this isn't what I was expecting but thank you." His attention was elsewhere however. "What of our people. They await below. Returning to them as your Champion after all that has happened, will be of little comfort."
Izurdin gave a slight smile. He had just named Sultros his Champion, something that had not been done in 500 years and all the boy could think of was his people. Truly the god had chosen correctly. "You are right. I did not give you that vision that led you here only to name you Champion."
Kavala could then see the vision given to Sultros. She saw the deaths of his people and destruction of his homeland in all its gruesome detail all consumed in the fires of rage. She saw Sultros leading thousands across an unforgiving landscape to a small mountain peak. She saw the view from a cliff that, while lacking details, filled her with hope.
Izurdin nodded his head and pointed past Sultros, into the heavy fog. Sultros turned around and walked to the edge of the cliff. As he approached, the fog began to fade as sunlight burned it away. Kavala shared the view with Sultros as they looked down upon a forested valley surrounded by mountains. There were clear streams and lakes, grassy foothills and snowcapped peaks. In the distance stood a mountain peak that stood above all others. Around it were four other peaks slightly smaller. "That my son, is my gift to all of you. A new home, safe from the outside world and capable of providing for ages to come. That is what you have led our people to."
Sultros could not contain himself. The enormity of it all brought him to his knees, weeping. Izurdin approached, knelt down and embraced his son. "You will lead our people to rebuild and prosper once more. However, Ivak will not be held forever. I've foreseen the day when he is released. A storm of fear will threaten the land. Prepare the people for that day. Until then, my son, welcome home."
Kavala felt herself blink and things felt different. She was in her own body, Sultros was gone. It had been night when she began her climb yet now the sun was rising. She was kneeling at the edge of the cliff and in the distance she could see the forested valley and the five peaks of the New Kingdom of Sultros. The air around her smelt like forge fires. Behind her, she heard a familiar voice. "Hello Kavala, it's nice to finally meet you in person." Behind her stood Izurdin.
"I have a feeling you may have a few questions. You have my attention for as long as wish." Izurdin smiled and moved to sit on the ground nearby.
Kavala continued her ascent. The handholds made the otherwise dangerous climb easier as their was always one in close enough proximity that all she needed to do is reach out with a hand or a foot and she would find a grip. As she approached twenty five feet from where she started, the small outcropping of rock was still nearly fifty feet further up. Night had now set in and the cool air allowed her to see her own breath. If she were to brave a look down, she could see the shapes of Emaneus and Istaris sitting around a small campfire.
A couple more feet she climbed before a thick fog drifted in and surrounded her. Visibility was reduced to less than a few feet in any direction. While that could be a bit troubling, what was more immediately concerning was the fact that the handholds she had been using had vanished. There was nothing but unmarred rock. Then came the sense that she was not alone; there was someone else there with her. She felt her hand reach out to feel the stone in front of her and she lost a beat or two of her heart. Her left hand was not her own. It was larger and thicker with raised silver veins parting the flesh. The hand touched the stone and seemed to be searching for some sort of grip yet there wasn't one. Kavala then felt herself look down at her other arm with its fingers sunk into the stone. It was the color of deep crimson with more silver veins stretching from hand to shoulder. Elaborate markings also formed a beautiful geometric pattern from his wrist all the way up to the shoulder. As one marked by multiple deities, Kavala recognized the marks on the arm as divinely related.
As a Dreamwalker, it didn't take Kavala long to recognize that she was sharing the body of a male isur. She shared his senses and even got a sense of his general emotions. However, what was happening still felt very different from Dreamwalking. What she was feeling was profoundly intimate and real as if she wasn't just reliving a memory but was actually there with whoever this man was. She felt his flesh hand switch places with his metallic one to hold his weight. Then, she felt his body tense for a moment before he pulled himself upwards with such force that it lifted his entire body further up the stone wall before quickly making his own grip in the rock; his fingers sinking into and once more holding him in place. The man took a glance below him yet there was only fog. Kavala could see that he wore a fur cloak with a silver clasp etched with the symbol of a fist holding a hammer. He also wore a fur loincloth and thick fur boots. His arms, chest and legs, his entire body, looked as though it was sculpted from a block of stone by a master artisan.
Kavala could feel every movement of his body as the man hung from the side of the rocky wall before continuing to climb. She could also sense his extreme fatigue. She could tell he hadn't slept in days before he decided to make such a climb. He was hungry; having shared any food he had managed to gather or hunt with others. She watched as the man was now but a couple arm lengths from the outcropping; a distance that he quickly closed. Kavala saw and felt the man's hands take grip on the edge of the outcropping before pulling his body up and over to rest on the ledge. Kavala felt the deep breaths of exhaustion and felt the burning of over-exerted muscles. As much as his body yearned for rest, the man pushed forward to kneel and then stand.
Kavala saw what he saw, a cave opening roughly cut into the mountain face and extending into the rock some unknown distance. The mist was still thick all around and Kavala could not make out much around her because of it. The man, apparently unarmed and unarmored, cautiously took a few steps to the mouth of the cave. Kavala got a flash of memory of the man losing his sword in a battle with some great beast; the details of what it was blurred as if the man did not want to remember all that happened. Reaching out, Kavala watched him run his metallic fingers across the stone before sinking his hand into it. She could feel the stone part as he effortlessly carved out a chunk of stone about a foot long and tapered and pulled it free from the surrounding rock. He then proceeded to quickly shape it into a pointed spike as one would shape a piece of wet clay. Now armed, he stepped into the cave.
The mist began to lighten as the man took several cautious steps forward. As the mist faded, Kavala's shared sight pierced through the darkness. The man's vision was such that he could see in black and white; yet no color as there was no light. The cave walls were rough as was the floor and ceiling. The further he went, the more uneven the floor became, forcing him to take greater care in his footing. Kavala could sense that the man had no fear of breaking an ankle on the uneven rock since he knew that breaking a bone was impossibly difficult for him.
As the time the two shared the man's body grew longer, Kavala felt more and more of his feelings, both physical and mental as well as beginning to see flashes of memories not her own. As the man made his way further and further into the cave, Kavala got a brief glimpse at another memory. The man was stumbling through a half-collapsed darkened tunnel. The smell of smoke filled the surrounding air and the muffled sounds of screams could be heard in the distance. The man climbed over piles of rock that blocked his way as he quickly yet cautiously pushed forward. The tunnel soon became too collapsed to go any further. The screaming could be heard coming from the other side of the collapsed tunnel. With focused determination driven by no small amount of fear, the man began digging into the rubble. With his metallic hand and arm, he cut the stone and flung it aside. He continued to dig, put at, cut through and throw the stone out of his way until he finally broke through to the other side. As he made a hole large enough to step through, he was greeted with devastation.
The tunnel he cleared his way through had led from the great cavern housing the main city of the Old Kingdom of the Isur, Izurith. The city was gone, destroyed by the eruption of a volcano just beneath it. The man had already led so many in an escape from the destruction but there was one more section that branched from the cavern that still had yet to be saved. The sounds of the screaming had told him people were still alive and he couldn't leave them behind. As he left the tunnel, he entered a small cavern that had once served as a housing district. Buildings that had once lined the cavern walls from floor to ceiling now lie in partial ruins. Isur architecture kept man of them in place although many others now littered the central plaza. While this particular housing district had been saved from the horrors that happened in the great cavern, the quakes had done their damage. Bodies and in places, their parts, could be seen sticking out of the rubble. As strong as the isur were, they were no match for tons of falling stone.
The man followed the sounds of the screams and cries for help through broken streets and collapsed alleyways. As he went, he would help lift stone and push through rubble to free those who were trapped. As he freed people, they worked to help free others at his direction. Men, women and children all had suffered. They were scared, confused and injured and they looked to the man above all others to help them. Help them he did as he led nearly 100 people from the ruined district, back through the tunnel he came through and to a branching tunnel that led to the outside world. Once outside, the people joined a mass of thousands who gathered at the base of a once great mountain that had since collapsed in on itself and now spewed ash and lava from its heart. The memory dissolved and Kavala could see now an opening a few yards forward that allowed an exit from the cave. Although she could still recall the images from the memory, the only words that she could remember being spoken by anyone were, "My Lord, Isengir and King Sultros."
The mist began to rise again as the man stepped out of the opposite side of the cave and onto a large cliff; the man Kavala realized was actually the legendary isurian king, Isengir Izurus Sultros. The mist was still relatively thin save for the edge of the cliff where it became a nearly impenetrable fog. Other than that, there was nothing; a dead end. The king walked several feet from the mouth of the cave and stopped. Kavala could feel a sense of hopelessness beginning to settle in. Sultros had led his people from their doomed home, traveled the Unforgiving, fought the elements, the beasts as well as the warped magical horrors brought on by what seemed like the end of the world only to find himself at a dead end. He followed the signs he thought Izurdin had left him; followed the path he thought had been laid out only to have it end in ruin. His people waited for him back down the mountain. They were tired, afraid, sick, injured and desperate.
Left with nothing else, Sultros dropped to one knee, lowered his head and prayed aloud. Although his words were spoken in isur, Kavala understood them. "Divine Father, we've been through so much. We've lost so much. Have we not been strong enough? Patient enough? Have we not overcome the impossible? I have run out of answers for their questions. Now, when I was certain that the answers would be found here I find nothing. I've failed."
There was a deep silence. There was no sounds of wind, wildlife, anything. As a mother, Kavala recognized the sadness and need a child had for its parent. Sultros, despite being 100 years old and the leader of an entire race, now seemed ever more like a son looking for his father in desperate need of comfort and guidance.
Then came a voice from behind. It was deep yet held a softness to it. To Kavala it came by surprise and startled her. However for Sultros, Kavala could feel an immense weight suddenly lifted from his overburdened shoulders. "Isengir..."
Sultros still kneeling, turned to face the one who spoke. "Divine Father..." His head still lowered, he slowly raised it. Kavala then saw the one who Sultros had called out to. He was an isur, only slightly taller than others she had seen. He had short, dark hair and his face was clean shaven. His left arm was a brilliant crimson and his body was nothing short of perfect. He was dressed in a leather battle skirt and black boots. The smell of forge fires filled the surrounding area. Izurdin stood before them.
With a dismissive wave of his hand and a soft look on his face, Izurdin told Sultros, "Enough of that. You need not kneel to me. Stand up."
Sultros rose to his feet and took a couple steps toward Izurdin before stopping. His entire posture fell as he stumbled over the words. "Father, I beg your forgiveness. I've failed."
Izurdin shook his head, approached Sultros and embraced him. Kavala could feel the god's touch as if it were on her own flesh. He was warm, extremely warm. The chilled air of the mountains melted away in such close proximity to Izurdin. "Isengir...you need not ask my forgiveness. You did not fail. It is I who should beg your forgiveness." Izurdin released Sultros and took a step back. "I was not there when our people needed me most. I left you alone with little more than a vague vision to follow. To not be able to step in and save all of you is unforgivable. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't."
Izurdin began to slowly pace back and forth in front of Sultros. Kavala couldn't help but notice that the god appeared nervous; a concept that came no short of baffling. "All that happened...the city's destruction, the land's upheaval, the fires, the unending devastation...It was Ivak. The humans betrayed him, they killed the one thing that could calm the raging volcano and released his wrath upon the world." Izurdin paused for a moment, the look on his face was one of pain.
"I could not let his rage destroy what I had worked so hard to help create. I had to stop him. I imprisoned him deep underground and muffled his rage. To one such as Ivak, this was a terrible yet necessary thing to do. It took everything I had to do it and left me unable to help my children...to help you." Izurdin looked to Sultros, his gaze piercing deeply, so deep that Kavala felt he was looking directly at her.
"As I said, you did not fail. My son, you did what only a god could do. You saved your entire race from certain destruction at the hands of enraged god of fire who in his despair thought to destroy the entire world. You acted when I could not. All that was lost, all that was sacrificed, by our people, by you, has not been in vain. You have succeeded where I failed." Izurdin approached Sultros once more, raised his hand and rested it on the king's shoulder. "Isengir Izurus Sultros, King and Savior of the Isur, my son...now, my champion." Kavala watched as Izurdin's hand was instantly consumed in a crimson fire. The flames painlessly spread from his hand to Sultros' metallic shoulder, down his arm and engulfed his hand. The existing geometric shapes and patterns of his existing gnosis marks flared with a silver light as more patterns grew and spread down to his hand, over his fingers and on his palm. Kavala could feel an awareness fill Sultros' mind as his connection to Izurdin reached its pinnacle. Kavala felt as though she were filled with a love stronger than any bond imaginable. Every movement, every action, every word, every feeling would be an extension of Izurdin himself.
The crimson fire faded and silver brilliance of Sultros' marks dimmed. Sultros looked at his hand and the patterns that covered it. Although an occasion to be celebrated above all others, he did not smile. Looking back at Izurdin he said, "Thank you father...this isn't what I was expecting but thank you." His attention was elsewhere however. "What of our people. They await below. Returning to them as your Champion after all that has happened, will be of little comfort."
Izurdin gave a slight smile. He had just named Sultros his Champion, something that had not been done in 500 years and all the boy could think of was his people. Truly the god had chosen correctly. "You are right. I did not give you that vision that led you here only to name you Champion."
Kavala could then see the vision given to Sultros. She saw the deaths of his people and destruction of his homeland in all its gruesome detail all consumed in the fires of rage. She saw Sultros leading thousands across an unforgiving landscape to a small mountain peak. She saw the view from a cliff that, while lacking details, filled her with hope.
Izurdin nodded his head and pointed past Sultros, into the heavy fog. Sultros turned around and walked to the edge of the cliff. As he approached, the fog began to fade as sunlight burned it away. Kavala shared the view with Sultros as they looked down upon a forested valley surrounded by mountains. There were clear streams and lakes, grassy foothills and snowcapped peaks. In the distance stood a mountain peak that stood above all others. Around it were four other peaks slightly smaller. "That my son, is my gift to all of you. A new home, safe from the outside world and capable of providing for ages to come. That is what you have led our people to."
Sultros could not contain himself. The enormity of it all brought him to his knees, weeping. Izurdin approached, knelt down and embraced his son. "You will lead our people to rebuild and prosper once more. However, Ivak will not be held forever. I've foreseen the day when he is released. A storm of fear will threaten the land. Prepare the people for that day. Until then, my son, welcome home."
Kavala felt herself blink and things felt different. She was in her own body, Sultros was gone. It had been night when she began her climb yet now the sun was rising. She was kneeling at the edge of the cliff and in the distance she could see the forested valley and the five peaks of the New Kingdom of Sultros. The air around her smelt like forge fires. Behind her, she heard a familiar voice. "Hello Kavala, it's nice to finally meet you in person." Behind her stood Izurdin.
"I have a feeling you may have a few questions. You have my attention for as long as wish." Izurdin smiled and moved to sit on the ground nearby.