Lurelat Eventide

The crackle of the inferno drowned out the muffled screams of the townsfolk who fled their burning dwellings. A ghostly reaper with an ethereal dagger and a transparent cloak sprinted through the streets, stabbing the victims who were too distraught by the chaos to protect themselves. The demon harvested their souls and drank them into himself.

“SCREEEEEEEEEE!”

The haunting winds hissed through shattered windows. Dust and ash filled the air. Shingles were pulled off the roofs, and debris clattered around the streets of Docide in rhythmic thuds. The screams of the scared people rounded into choral chants. The Hunter raised his hands like a maestro, directing the winds, directing the debris, and directing their crashes like timpani drums. The hiss of the winds gave way to the sound of a screeching fiddle.

— Unya snapped awake in a cold sweat. Her heart was racing. She conjured some motes to illuminate the room. She was alone, awakened in the same room she’d been awakened in for the previous four months. Debris crashing against her window had stirred her. She hurried to look out her window. It was dark in Docide, the sun Dos had not yet risen. More to the point, nothing was on fire. 

What was that dream? Unya threw on a robe, tied her long brown hair back into a tail, and hurried down stairs. She feared her visions could be premonition. To her surprise, Djoln sat awake in the foreroom, also in his bedcloths.

“It woke you too?” Djoln asked.
“The song,” Unya affirmed. “You heard it?”
Djoln shook his head, “I meant the storm. What song?”

Unya didn’t slow down, she hurried straight to the door. She swiftly donned the mask, and grabbed her staff. Djoln had barely eked out a “What are you doing? Stop!” before she had flung open the door, and pulled it tight behind her. In her loose clothes, Unya had anticipated the frigidity of empty air she had grown accustomed to in her weeks on Lurelat. Instead, she felt a wind. The air had an otherworldly density and carried with it a deluge of sand and rock. Their battery stung the exposed flesh of her arms and legs, and pounded on the glass lenses of her facemask. Her adrenaline bolstered her against the cold.

She listened. The hiss of the wind cried out in that unmistakable scree, and she imagined a grand hall of strings filling the air with similar aplomb. She could almost feel the pounding of drums, as if a band marched in the shadows. She forced her way through the headwind, determined to find the epicenter that all this air sought to escape. This directed her southeast. In as much a sprint as she could muster against the onslaught, she came to the edge of town. A careening pebble struck her facemask. Her visor webbed with a crack. Instinctually, she lifted her forearm to cover her face, and ended up smearing blood onto the lens. The debris that had been tearing at her skin had made headway. She kept her mask on, her eyes working through the fracture.

As she escaped the town, the wind grew stronger, unfettered by the manmade walls. It also grew thinner. The plants, stones, and metals that the wind carried in Docide were behind her, and now the wind carried only a thin dust. As she left the safety of the structures behind her, the hiss of the wind faded. The land was scantily illuminated by the glow off Tyryn, and she could hear nothing above the low growl of the winds. She leaned heavily against her staff, and persevered.

In the distance, she saw a cloud of dust in her trajectory. As she trod toward it, she found herself in a trough. Something else had travelled this path recently, and it left a trail in the loam. She hurried toward the dust cloud, desperate to meet the Hunter.

To her left, another cloud of dust appeared. This one approached her rapidly. She tried to hasten her stride to avoid its path, but there was no hope of escape as it was upon her in an instant. A squall of stone and soil covered her as a large beast erupted from the ground six meters from her. As the beast leapt at her, a shadowy figure tackled her out of its way. As she fell to the ground, her shadowy figure fell atop her.

Canvas collapsed over them. Woolen, like a blanket. The storm’s sting vanished. The sudden refuge was illuminated as her assailant set their fingertips aglow. Unya was surprised to be laying under a woman who looked no older than her. The woman held the blanket up over her head with one arm, and held her other glowing hand close to Unya’s face. She pulled off Unya’s mask, and their eyes met.

“What are your injuries?” The strange woman asked.
“I’m unhurt,” Unya replied.
“Sweetie, you are covered in blood,” the woman retorted. “Don’t worry, I have you.” 

She ran her fingers along Unya’s face, pressing on her nose and temple. She muttered a quiet ‘Where is this coming from?’ before finding the gash on Unya’s forearm.

“Are you delirious?” she asked, “What’s your name?”
“I am, uh…” Nobody had asked her that in weeks. “Unya.”
“Ayamunja? I’m Vira. I don’t know how you got here, but this is not a good place to be. As soon as I pull off the ward, we’re going to be attacked by defilers. I’m going to do a little enchantment here which will protect you from the sand, but the defiler’s bite can still be deadly, so you need to run.”

Vira’s hand glowed with a white heat. Unya could now see Viras features more clearly. She had small, pointed features, intense brown eyes and a sharp little chin. She had matted black hair falling behind her in ribbons, and a sported a leather headband to keep that entanglement out of her eyes. As Vira held her illuminated fingers against Unya, Unya could feel her skin stiffen, as if growing callous.

“I can help,” Unya said.
Vira shook her head and raised her glowing hand back to Unya’s face. “You see this? This is why I fight and you run.”
“I can help,” Unya asserted. “I need to speak to the Hunter. He won’t find what he is looking for here.”
Vira gave her another shocked look. “These things want to eat your essence. Your stick won’t help.”
Unya looked down at her arm. It was coarse and greenish brown. It cracked like tree bark, and even as she watched it leaves sprouted from her. “Weapons never help. I have a song.”

Vira nodded in acceptance, then rolled off of Unya. The sweet refuge of the ward was replaced by the returning onslaught of wind and dirt. Unya could feel the force of the wind battering against her, but no longer felt the sting of the dust. She didn’t even need to cover her eyes. She leapt to her feet.

Vira slipped past a lunging defiler, dust exploding where its mandible hit stone. The thing was twice a horse’s size: a translucent beetle head gnashing in the open air, its hindbody unraveling into a storm of grit. Another defiler burst from the ground in front of Unya. The earth geysered and her knees buckled. She planted her staff; the timber bit stone, and gave her a lever against the gale. She called upon her training as a cleric of the Bowl.

She tugged at the streams of the weave that laid out before her, and wards flowered from her palms in thin bright discs. The defiler snapped, but Unya met the strike with both hands. The bite glanced off with a glassy shriek. Then she started to sing.

Her notes braided the air. The wards thickened and widened into an ephemeral shield rising like a tide between her and the beast. It recoiled, then skittered left to circle. Unya pivoted, voice steady, and slid the barrier to track it. The shield swelled again, shouldering forward, then curved out around the monster.

It hesitated. She pressed.

The arc closed. It did not bind the defiler, but promised that it could. Predators know when the hunt reverses. The defiler backed, chittering, then whirled and dove, dissolving into its own dust.

Unya turned toward Vira. The druid had split her foe in twain, leaving two spectral halves thrashing in the sand. As they crawled to knit, Vira’s hand flashed. Force held them apart. The pieces thinned to vapor, then to nothing.

In all the excitement, Unya had just now realized that the wind was dying down.

Vira turned to Unya, “Who are you?”

Unya took a moment to catch her breath. She was briefly bolstered by Vira’s enchantment, but as that faded her windedness and the pain in her arm returned. “Unya. Just Unya. I’ve been sent by the Father Deacon of Astire to come help the people of Docide. I’m trying to solve the Riddle of the Winds.”

“You’re with the new monastery?” Vira asked.
“I am,” Unya responded. “I think the Hunter is looking for something, but I’m pretty sure he will not find it in Docide.”
“He wanders the wastes, searching for souls that he can use to manifest the Eidolons. As more people move to Docide, it becomes a richer bounty for him.”
“Did you say Eidolon? Are you one of the druids of the oases?” Unya asked.
“I am,” Vira nodded. “I habitate with the green mother Starlet.”
“Can I come with you? Can I meet them?” Unya asked.
“I am afraid that is unlikely,” Vira responded. “Lurelat is slow to adopt strangers.”
“So were you born to the druids?” Unya continued.
Vira shook her head. “Orphaned. Starlet took me in.”
“Same,” Unya shared. “I’m human. The church took in myself and my brother when we were just children.”
“I’m glad you found solace. It was nice to meet you, Unya.” Vira picked up her blanket from the ground and slung it over her shoulder. “We probably won’t meet again. But, who knows? If you keep trying to get yourself killed, anything could happen.” Vira turned and departed back into the wastes.
“Wait!” Unya implored. “You said the Hunter is trying to manifest Eidolons, right?”
“That’s right,” Vira said as she walked away. “And he would gladly end your life to do it.”
“I manifested an Archoria stone,” Unya divulged.
Vira stopped in her tracks and turned back to face Unya. “You have an Archoria stone?”
Unya shook her head. “No, but I know somebody who does, and I know what they want for it.”
Vira nodded. “You get that stone, and I’ll get you an audience with Starlet. We would never let a townie keep one of Alexandrite’s sisters.” She turned again to depart.
Unya was thrilled. “I’ll be back!” she called out to the woman as she left.

“Keep yourself safe,” Vira called back. “I will find you.”