As the faint flapping of the pegasus’ wings fade away, I find myself standing rooted to the flight platform. Silently I take in the familiar sight before me, the floor shimmers with a metallic shin, the streets brightly lit. Golden winged statues lined the path, glistening in the mid-day sun, almost impossible to look at directly. The air is cool and dry, a stark contrast to the hot desert air just outside the city. Everything seems so sterile, exactly as I remembered it to be.

I notice only a handful of people in sight, I looked carefully at each of them, wondering if I would recognize anyone. Nope. I felt a tightness in my chest, a strange discomfort, pressure building up from within. Letting out a loud sigh, exhaling heavily, I’d forgotten to breathe. As I caught my breath and gathered my thoughts, I wondered what I would do or how I would react had I met someone I recognized.

“So....” I feel a tap on my right shoulder, making me take a quick glance to the right before noticing Estellda on my left. “Is this where we’re gonna be standing now?”

Estellda stands relaxed beside me, lightly stretching her arms and shoulders before resting her hands on her hips.

“We should probably move to the side before furry over there kills us with hi..err...” She tilts her head in the direction of the flight manager Ecrille, the female High Elf gracefully pats herself down, adjusting her robes, a blank expression on her face. "Damn... I could've sworn that all flight managers are po-"

"Move it." Ecrille hissed.

"-OK!" I feel Estellda wrapping her hands around my arm, hastily pulling me aside. She pulls me down the stairs, 2 steps at a time. As we reach the bottom, she shurgs, furrowing her brow, "what? I really thought it would be a popo". The Allemantheian guard chuckled briefly at her comment before disguising it with a short cough, then regained her composure. Estellda lets go of my arm, sitting herself down on the floor beside the guard, she leans against the partition by the side of the stairs, making herself comfortable. She then unsheathes her swords and proceeds to stare intently at the mesmerising celestial blades. I stare down at her puzzled.

"What? It took you 3 days to stop running away from me. Another week to actually reply to my greeting. A whooping 2 months before you come to terms with the fact that you're an NPC, which I honestly don't think you really quite grasp at all, and finally another month before you decide to leave Bal-" Estellda glances at the guard, "before you decide to leave that place in search of answers. This is Allemantheia! It means something to you. So until you're ready to move from here, I'm just gonna look at these beautiful swords I have here."

She's right, about all of it. I still don't quite understand this NPC concept, as far as I'm concerned, I'm real. Arborea is real. Everything I see, hear, smell, taste, touch and even feel is real. I have memories and a past. Estellda may have come from another world along with all the other adventurers since the first expedition but so did Arun and Shara. As creatures created by gods, some of which still walk among us, I can accept the existence of another world and other gods. That's not to say I approve of these new additions to Arborea. The adventurers brought with them illusions from their world, strange fashion, weapons and armor. One of the popori lancers I saw at Lumbertown had a giant carrot for a lance. A carrot. That's popori food, it makes no sense.

I sit down beside her, resting my head on her shoulder, her warmth comforting. "Sorry, I know I've been difficult." Taking a deep breath, the cold Allemantheian air lending clarity to my thoughts. "thanks..."

"Huh?" Estellda pauses, turning to me. "What was that again?"

"Don't push it."

"See that wasn't so hard." She smiles, "you're ready?"

"Mmmhmm..." I nod, apprehensive, standing and extending a hand towards Estellda. "As ready as I can be."

She sheathes her swords and slides her fingers into my hand, I grip them firmly, helping her onto her feet. She brings out her map, "So... Arcane Symposium..." she rotates the map, tilting her head, matching the orientation to where we're facing.

"This way." I pull her along, she seemed briefly surprised and then she remembered, this is my turf.