Dear Mother and Father,
I have to make this brief because I must prepare for a journey. Please do not worry. The Voice has asked me and six others to fulfill a task in our Lord’s honour. I have met Him, and He is far more beautiful and arresting in person than He is in paintings of Him. We are to journey through a portal to find the cause of the recent happenings, with the animals and other disturbances. I am told that I, along with the others chosen for this task (Caspian, Hauk, Hollis, Sevris Lazarin, Shiress, Orias—I give you these names in case you wish to spread the news and gather more information), hold the essence of Caretakers created by the Voice long ago. It is this essence that allows us to access this portal.
I asked Rhysol about the Valterrian, and He said so much. Did you know about the Kingdom of Alahea and the Suvan Empire? Mother, I think you’ve spoken of our Suvan past. When Rhysol told us what happened, I wondered what our family may have done during those times. How our family survived the blasted world. I will save the story He told us for when I see you next. I will be writing it down in my journal after this, so that I can take it with me and record the things I see and learn on this journey.
Father, when I return, we should talk. The Voice has granted us protection for our trip to Zeltiva. And yes, Mother, Father, I intend to leave and help find Grandfather.
I love you. Tell Jaide that I will miss her very much, and that I am confident that I will be back. She and I share a bond that needs no words at this point, so I know she supports any decision of mine, and will take care of herself and all of you accordingly.
Farewell,
Rohka Calico
When the sybil exited the Temple, she knew at once that she needed to inform her family. It would simply be a notice, nothing more, with the purpose of letting them know what had happened since she received the missive at the Lakeshore. She was sure her parents would inform the family, and it would give them a sense of honour and pride, and perhaps even help Vida with her positioning amongst the Calico politics. Mostly, however, Rohka just didn’t want her Father pestering Grayson or Lelia on her whereabouts.
As she wrote the letter before going to bed, the sybil found herself thinking back to Rhysol’s words. He created life. And he said it as if the Gods were just capable of doing so with the snap of their fingers—a ‘roll of the dice’, as he put it aptly. He said there were twelve followers who bonded with this life, emerging as Caretakers, held together by faith.
So… the essence of twelve devoted followers were in… seven people? Were there others not present or did the number not matter?
Such strange yet amazing magic had been the answer the question asked by Lazerin. Yet when her God looked to the sybil to answer her own, he paused. A grain of sadness emerged, like a dull shade in a bright piece of art. Rohka was indeed a mortal, short-lived, speaking to one who has been awake for longer than she could even imagine… and it felt surreal to be knowing that not one mortal—not a single one—would have been curious enough to ask the closest source with a memory of time about the unknown (perhaps even unwritten) past, during the frequency with which He walked amongst the people of His lake.
But that was not all. It was only the beginning of Rhysol’s answer. He then went on to speak of the ignorance of mortals. Was it not the very purpose of speaking to tell the story from one’s own perspective? Was Rhysol immune to the effect of his own perspective? Would another God tell the story differently, as a friend would relate something in a different lens than an enemy? Does time not affect the truth that a God speaks?
It all seemed so contradictory from the start.
Rhysol had then sat down. The very act of taking a seat bringing with it a sense of foreboding times. He began to share that he did not expect such a terrible amount of destruction… which Rohka could see would be cause for sadness. He then spoke of a powerful woman arranging a truce through marriage. Rohka had gasped, hearing of Kova’s death. Stoned, chained, dragged. Such cruelty, for loving a God before loving a mortal. Not just any mortal, but an Emperor who trusted her to form peace between civilizations.
This God of Fire, this Ivak, was the cause of death and destruction upon the world, out of grief for his lover’s sentencing. Rhysol then killed the divine force he believed would cause the destruction of the Gods themselves… he killed Sylir, to prevent further acts of betrayal via reasoning. But there were others who managed to imprison Ivak… so was the murder of Sylir in vain? No. The Gods were intact, it seemed, so perhaps killing Sylir did indeed prevent further losses, despite the death and decrease of Rhysol’s followers and influence.
Where was Ivak now? Where were his followers?
And Sylir… a God that has a name so close to where Hauk had said he was from: Syliras. She wondered, then, if Hauk had heard stories of this God during his time there.
Rohka remembered having listened in awe and a growing sense of awareness when Rhysol spoke of mortals creating their own experiences. She breathed in deeply when he spelled out, clearly, that the Gods exist because of what mortals create. He wasn’t implying that mortals could threaten the existence of the Gods. He flat out stated it.
He then revealed finding that there were uses and rewards for truth. What was lost on Rohka happened to be exactly that. How could this revelation be used going forward? That was the purpose of her question, after all.
She resolved to write as much of these truths down in her journal as she could, so that she could refer to it on the other side.
________________
“Alligator teeth, eh?" The question was asked with a gleam in his ocean eyes, his voice tinged with a hint of frantic Fratava, and a nose that crinkled when he spoke, almost as if he was trying to unconsciously block out a persistent smell. "Did you you that those nasty creatures do something called a death roll? I can carve in a circle if you—“
“Yea, Herman, it’s fine, do whatever you like, I trust you. You’ve got good stuff here.”
The man grinned manically.
“Thanks missy. I’ll have it ready in a couple hours.”
Little did Rohka know of the ability he was about to maledict into her gifts. Herman was of the curious sort, a novice at his newfound art and magic, having started his wee business to make more people aware of his growing skills. Seeing this young woman so eager and clearly faithful enough to want to make so many of these items, he figured this would be the perfect chance to show off his craft. The bright-eyed mage went on to tap into the djed of the tooth and pulled out the potential of the alligator’s death roll. He imagined it could grant the user the ability to force an attacker into submission, more fluidly in the water than on land, or perhaps a roll could disorient or dismember an attacker. He even giggled when he remembered that these would be attached to a sacred cord that bound all eight of these teeth together, wondering whether the users could in fact combine the effects for more impact.
Herman carved out a swirl within the circle, with a frowning face and X’s for eyes in the middle, to represent his intention for the item. He beamed with that familiar insanity known to mages before pricking his finger and dropping blood onto each circle, activating them. When Rohka returned, he gave her all eight maledicted teeth fastened to their cords, and thanked her once again for choosing his stall, reminding her to spread the word about his service.
But Herman was also of the forgetful sort, and he didn’t fully explain what he added. In fact, he simply figured she already knew. When she saw the carving she smiled and complimented them, thinking this was purely Herman’s signature, as odd as it was. She waved her goodbye and excitedly brought the new talismans to the temple.
The Voice accepted the offering, and so did others. Caspian had quipped at her and she smirked, scratching her head lightly in an attempt at humility while her cheeks reddened. The flush stayed that way, with the kindest Hollis asking Orias to tie it for her, and Orias giving his thanks as well, and with Hauk tying it around his wrist, and the ever beautiful Shiress wearing it with a soft smile. The sybil saw such sweetness in Orias, offering the furs to Hollis, and his dagger too. He seemed selfless.
But it was The Voice who then showed her immense generosity, once again. The aid that she provided to everyone gave Rohka courage and a needed, renewed sense of vigour. A strong shield named Driftwood for Sevris, a pair of lock picking bracers for Caspian, a lovely scented silk belt for Hollis, a magical ring of weaponry for Shiress, a powerful piece of leather for Hauk, and an armoured sash of Ravokian protection for Orias.
Then, for herself, that mirror.
She accepted it. She gave her thanks. She tucked it into her belt, securing it to make sure it was protected from reflecting the wrong thing. Her face went blank after receiving it, almost pale, having realized what this meant: the sybil was responsible for trapping whatever they found to be the source of these issues. She looked around to the others, knowing immediately that she would need their help. Desperately. At what point would this decision need to be made? They had to determine it together. They had to. But what if the decision needed to be made quickly? What then?
Rohka forced her gaze to the ground. She resolved to bring it up to the group when they had a chance, once they’d crossed the threshold.
They were told the crossing required focus. The sybil thought back to the moment at The Malt House, talking to Grayson. Everything Rhysol and The Voice played out thus far had affected her in ways she knew she was still processing, and that processing had to be done by talking things through. Grayson helped her see that she wanted more than just time to process. She wanted strength. It struck her, profoundly, when she realized how weak she thought she really was—how utterly useless and unproductive and stupid and inconsiderate and sometimes even insane she thought she could be, at times. Hearing Rhysol’s story helped her realize, once again, how much she doesn’t know about the world. Grayson helped her see that all she needed was the drive. Standing under the dying candlelight, knowing the simplicity of his advice, sparked her faith.
Faith in the strength of ...truth? Spirit? Love?
Of faith itself?
It wasn't something she could articulate. But she knew the feeling.
A double voiced foreign language then preceded the creeping swirl of a steaming cloud wrapping itself around their hands before disappearing into the top, leaving an orb of white stone, streaked with blacks and silvers. Then the shard, the one she grew up with, the one she prayed to so frequently, became a thing of life, inching across the floor and up her body, down her arm and to her hand, a light flashing before her eyes—
And there it was. The portal. Finally.
Rohka smiled, her eyes tearing up at the beauty and awesomeness of it all, fully ready to walk right in. Right when she was about to step forward, having blocked almost all of her senses to everything else, a hand gripped hers. The touch brought her out of her hypnosis and she gasped, hard. She whipped her head around to Caspian, her heart beginning to race when she saw his face, her own features reflecting an angered surprise at the halt but quickly shifting to a fluttering fear.
Just then, his hand tightened. It eased her. Surprisingly, immensely. Her gaze glazed over with a flood of memories between them, knowing what they’d experienced on this side of the doorway. She considered herself lucky. Absolutely blessed by the fortune of the Gods to be seen by his spirit. The spirit that made her stop and consider exactly what choice they were making. Together.
For everything Caspian thought himself to be, she wondered how far he’d be willing to risk it all.
It was with this thought that she gripped his hand, with as much force as he did hers if not more, then nodded to him, her features softening in the acceptance of all that he was feeling. She wasn’t sure if she was trying to reassure him. She wasn’t even sure what he’d thought of, in that moment. All she could hope for was his belief in her. In himself. In all of them.
In everything they would become.
Rohka submerged in something water-like as soon as she pushed through the portal. Yet, feeling her skin with her hands, it was dry. For a time she’d wondered if something wasn’t right, if she’d missed an instruction, if it was possible to get stuck. She tried to move, wondering if it would change anything. She didn’t know if she was making any movement because she couldn’t see anything… she could barely hear anything. So she waited. She figured it would be best to meditate. To be calm before they emerged on the other side.
She breathed in and out, feeling the anxiety within her chest. She tried to breath in deeper this time, breathing out through her mouth, watching her thoughts and feelings come to her and noting them as they passed, and new ones came. She thought of Rhysol, and then of her family, of her grandfather that she barely remembered… of whether she’d ever return. All thoughts abruptly stopped… and that was when she found herself on the shore of a lake.
The water sparkled, its peace and calm shocking her at once. Beyond the lake, surrounding it, seemed to be a far reaching forest. The sybil slowly turned and looked behind her to see a stone building with unnaturally high windows. There were huts and shacks around it and people going about their day. No one seemed to notice their sudden presence.
Rohka called out to a person who walked towards Orias. “Hello? Excuse m—“ before she could continue, the sybil watched as the lone figure passed through the sailor as if he didn’t even exist.
“Gods. What the petch is going on?” Rohka looked around at the group, wondering if anyone else had a clue. Sevris mentioned something being wrong and she couldn’t agree more. She started walking forward before a certain form of frustration hit her, having seen another person simply ignoring their clear existence, and she started to run. Legs pumped forward, arms swinging at her sides as she made the opened doors her target, but the sprint was short-lived.
The sybil ran into a barrier and fell to the ground.
She rubbed her face, pissed and upset at their apparent situation. “There’s something here, something invisible,” she said, her voice holding a tinge of annoyance for anyone close enough to hear. As she sat down on whatever the ground of the shore was made of, Rohka willed her djed to form a veil over her eyes, to try to sense the feeling of the aura around her, to maybe help her new team of Rhysol’s emissaries figure out what this barrier could possibly be made of. Ideally, she wanted to be able feel whatever feeling it might be able to give her.
Rohka stood up as the bold Lazarin walked towards the doors as well. He asked for help, directing his question at the man dressed in white robes. As he asked the question, Rohka wondered about the world she was seeing around them. It looked so calm, something about it reminded her of the Lakeshore of Ravok, of how normal and functioning it seemed with people just living their lives, with no obvious form of distress or destruction. Rohka began to walk towards Sevris, standing behind him, and whispered by his shoulder.
“Do you recognize those robes? Does he look dangerous?” She had to ask him. He was the only Ebonstryfe among them and he’d probably been exposed to more of these kinds of guard-like characters than she was.
What was this brown-haired man standing there for? She attempted to analyze his face, but his handsome features distracted her a tad as she tried, once more, to bring djed to the space around her, to read the man’s aura field. She wanted to see if it changed in the moments after Sevris asked his question, or whether it changed at all during their initial exploration.
The sybil thought to herself as she looked around her once more. It at least seemed logical that they were walking atop the same ground as the people of this area. Was this even a real place?
The sybil tried to look down at the ground, to see what type of earthen material she could pick up from this shore: sand, a pebble, grass, dirt, snow. She reached down to pick up a clump of whatever.
Was it just them? Their bodies?
Would the material of this world pass through?
She threw the clump towards the barrier.
WC = 2950
