You Dream

"...it. Medic to the feast hall! Wraith, get a quiet priority line to..."

+Who are you / am I / are we?+

+Thruthseeker / Miotal Scathanna / Ethna Nic Vir Dannan+

"..igns of recovery? If she isn't at..."

"None yet, but the scans show..."

+Where were you Born / Forged / United?+

+Dagada, the house in the clearing / The Night's Labyrinth and the Sundered Wayshrine / In Fire.+

"...ence was remarked upon."

"We are scheduled to make warp soon, perhap..."

+What are We? How can we be as One without Knowing the Other?+

+Then let us Share Alike. See me, see you, see Us +

You stand in a cave, deep below the red ground. At your toes, an abyss stretches, sound and light alike vanishing in its depths. It stretches beyond your sight and Sight alike, neither end nor far wall visible. You shudder, though you are not cold. You can feel the Beast at the Night's Labyrinth's heart before you.

You stand in a shaded clearing, a Titan Oak older than all but the oldest townships at its center. A small wooden hut leans against its base, a small plot of gravestones beyond its back wall. You don't need to read the time-worn names that were once etched in their granite faces. You know them, their stories and sagas, loves and heartbreaks, etched in the tongues of the lorekeepers.

You stretch out your hand and tug ever so gently on the shadow cast by the Beast, pulling free the tiniest of whispering shards. You could forge from its bones and blood and scales, craft a blade to sunder the stars themselves. But that is not needed. There are no weapons more deadly than information and surprise, and you mean to make a weapon to aid them both.

You stretch out your hand and brush your fingers over the places where the names once stood. Pellea Flametoung, firekeeper and flamedancer. Calamas Earthfriend, old soul and lorekeeper. Alea Dannan, first of her Clan. From this place and these people your lineage springs, oaths and vows bound in blood and fire.

You stand at the Shattered Anvil at the heart of the Sundered Wayshrine. Will and metal and shadows flowing together, crossing over and under, through and around, binding together and folding in upon themselves. No words are spoken, for none should echo in this place, lest they awaken the Shades from their rest.

You stand at the iris hatch to the Navigators Vestibule. Your first flight and first solo Transit await. Exultation and fear dance in your mind, for no Warp transit will ever rival this one, not for you. The hatch shusshes open, and you step through it to the next part of your life.

You stand at the old curtain of pelts. Every other item has been cleared away, and it is only this one last thing to do before you can leave this place for good. You grip the staff, still asleep and awaiting the Truthseeker, tightly. You let out a long breath, and brush the curtain aside. When you return, the staff sleeps behind you. The Old Wolf and the Shadow will arrive shortly, and you need to be well gone, onto the next piece of your plan.

"...elids are flickering! She's waking up!"

"after a head hit like that, who knows if her thoughts are back yet."

You Awaken

You crack one eye open, trying to figure out exactly where you are. Not standard piping and mesh all over the ceiling, so not in a normal shipside room. Nor the plain or painted plaster of a groundside room. Clean steel, regular square pattern, recess lighting covered over with a seamless clear glass cover. Your thoughts start tracking again. Medical bay, shipside, probably the Ignis.

Your hands feel rather stiff. You flex your fingers and they pop, the sound of your knuckles loud as gunshots in the quiet room. The shaft of Miotal Scathanna is smooth in your grasp. Clearly, no one was able to pry it away from you while you were unconscious. You roll your neck sideways. Your vertebrae crack like lightning bolts. Your gaze settles on a white robed figure leaning over an overly large bank of medical displays, and Helheim sitting in a chair watching you. Definitely in a Medical Bay aboard the Ignis, probably the one reserved for use by the Deathwatch.

Helheim leans forward. "You gave us all quite the scare Lady Dannan. Can you tell me what happened?"

Your voice is a dry rasp as you try to speak. "Not... sure. Give me a... day to puzzle... it out?"

The white robed figure turns around. "I'd suggest five or more of rest, followed by at least some physical therapy. You were locked up solid for almost two weeks, no voluntary muscle movement at all, not even a twitch. Had to hook up a nutrient drip and waste disposal plumbing to keep you fed and hydrated."

"And you... are...?"

"Apothecary Zachariah Bedard. I'd have shooed Helheim out already, but he's a stubborn old Wolf. Go ahead and give him what you can for the moment, then I'll help you get cleaned up."

"Ok. Psychic data-transfer, I think... Caught me off-guard..."

Bedard is staring at his readouts again, probably looking at brain activity if the wires you can feel tugging at your scalp are any indication. Helheim nods for you to continue.

"I think... I got a name: Miotal Scathanna, though... I also have a notion... that its a translation from... the language of whomever... made the staff in the first place. Also got the... impression of three places... associated with it, though I don't know... where they are located, not.. for sure. First one is a massive... chasm in a cavern, deep below... red earth. Material for the... staff was gathered there. Second... one is a sundered shrine... of some sort, with a... broken anvil as its... centerpiece. Location associated... with the crafting of the staff. Third... one is where the staff... was placed."

Helheim's left eyebrow raises a fraction. "Placed, not left behind?"

Bedard clicks his tongue. "You knew that Helheim, don't go prying when there's no need. Now, are you going to help me clean her up, our are you going to tell Shipmistress Faunia that her Navigator is awake?"

Helheim stands up and heads for the door. Bedard shakes his head. "Now then, let's get you unhooked and into the bathtub. Lay still, I'll start with the EEG..."

You sigh and does as he instructs. You have a long week or two ahead of you, getting back into some semblance of physical and mental shape after this whole ordeal. The real question, you muse, is whether you intend to push your limits hard, or follow the doctor's orders?