Vas awoke in the middle of a field, the night sky stretching endlessly above him, the stars shimmering, glistening like diamonds. He recognized the area as The Crossroads, but something about it was wrong. A forest of glowing white-blue trees filled the space where the Amberllyn Woods used to lie. Around him, tall grass, like strands of hair, sheltered the road from view. Their follicles glowed with the same blue silvery light as the Not-Amberllyn Woods. In the distance, a single cabin rested on the horizon, a bastion for the ominous woods silently reposed beyond.

“Welcome to the Plane of Transference, Valeman.” A jovial voice said calmly. His hand instinctively went to his sheathe, but it wasn’t there. Vas frantically scoured the immediate area. This didn’t make sense. When he bedded down, he was far beyond the crossroads, beyond the Amberllyn Bridge.

“Wh-who’s there? Wh-where am I? How did I get here?” He stammered. Vas’ hands shook as he desperately tried to find something to calm himself. The stone was gone as well, all of his possessions were gone. He stood there in a simple laced tunic and hide breeches. Vas took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. The figure of a robed, rotund man appeared before him. His eyebrows were white and feathered, extending far past the lines of his round face

“You’re early. No, no, this just won’t do. Not in the slightest,” The man clicked his tongue as he thumbed over a journal. Its cover was scratched and worn from years of hard use. The deep, rich brown of leather was faded and greying.

“Early? That’s a first.” Vas laughed, rolling his eyes. His nerves were starting to calm. Something about this old man seemed comfortable and familiar. “What is this place?” He ran his hand through the grass, it was soft and tickled his palm and fingers as he ran it through the glowing strands.

“Plane of Transference. Come. Come. You need to start paying attention, Awakener.” The old man waddled over to Vas with purpose as he continued rummaging through the journal in his hand. The closer he got, the more Vas could start distinguishing the man’s features. He had small, almond-shaped eyes, and his cheeks were just as pudgy as his stomach, making the man—no, not a man. Well, not in the sense that Vas was a man or human comparatively. Vas saw the distinct outline of the leaf-shaped ears. The tips were extremely narrow and pointed towards the end, resembling pine needles.

“A… Syl?” Although Vas couldn’t distinguish the region. Faefolk were just that, Fae. There was no point in trying to differentiate them from each other. They weren’t widely seen outside of their hovels or wherever they lived, at least not in Karonus. In the Three Kingdoms, however, Vas had no clue what to expect. Especially if that figure from the previous day was any sign of things to come.

“Upper Syl, mind you. Nothing like those oak-eared, amber-skinned troglodytes that breed in the rivers of the southern region.” He replied without a second thought, nose still stuck between the pages of whatever he was reading. Vas wasn’t even sure if the Syl was even fully paying attention to him at this point. “Ah-ha! Here we are!” He stuck his finger out and thrust it at the open book as if he were squashing an annoying ant. “Vasilios Saerkin, Valeman, 22 years of age, Awakener, Spirit of the Divine, Elementalist” He peered over the top of the journal, eyes narrow. “Not much to look at. Stringy, unkempt. Dastardly fellow. Well, it is what it is,” He slammed the book closed with one hand as if springing a trap. “Come. Much to get through and oh so little time. Dawn will be breaking soon.” He lifted his arm, signaling Vas to grasp hold, who stared at it questioningly. “Hurry, hurry, no point in dawdling.”

‘Pompous twat,’ Vas thought to himself. Although who was he to judge, he had has his own fair share of quirks. The Syl man stood there expectantly, his feathery brows, askew. “Who are you?” Vas said hesitantly. “And most importantly, what were you rambling about?”

“So many questions. Normally, I would be thrilled to answer them, but time is of the essence here. You are a day’s travel from Elmora and the birth of your Journey. I can answer any and all questions at a later date. Now come, Boy.”

Vas felt pressure on his shoulders and chest as he opened his bleary eyes. He didn’t remember falling asleep the previous night or if it had even been restful, but here he was. A hazy form in a blurry world crouched over him, shaking him awake. Vas rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he tried grounding himself. He was back on the outskirts of Elmora, no sign of the ghastly trees, glowing grass, and, most importantly, no sign of the Syl. It was an hour or so before dawn, judging by the dim light of the sky. The faint red and yellow of the new day was just starting to peek over the horizon. The deep blue of the night still taking over most of the heavens and speckled with the southern stars.

“Come,“ It was Joris, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “We’re getting an early start. I sense an uneasiness in the woods. It's best if we go now,”

Vas nodded his head and silently started rolling up his mat, his thoughts distant as the turquoise shores of The Vale. What in The Shadow’s name was that about? He tried remembering everything about the dream. Was it even a dream? Journey? Spirit of the Divine? Why did he address me as ‘Awakener?’ What did that guy mean? “Ugh, why can’t things just be simple?” he groaned.

As he packed up his belongings, the letter he had been mulling over for the past several days fell out of his blankets. Gingerly, he picked it back up and read over it again. Afterward, he folded the warrant up and placed it in his coat pocket. He still didn’t have an answer to the problem that suffocated him, drowning out all traces of clear thought. He looked to Joris, who was in the process of waking the other Blades. ‘Maybe he’ll have an answer or at least some advice.’

“Or Something,” he said quietly as if just hearing his own thoughts might stir a change and solve all of his issues. It didn’t, but Vas felt better nonetheless, even if it was only slightly. He took a deep breath and buried his thoughts. “Are we ready to go?” He said to his comrades. Their early morning moans and grunts assured him they were as ready and willing as they were capable of being at this hour. Vas was never much of a morning bird either, but considering he had most likely been awake all night, it didn’t matter what time of day it was. He just wanted to get moving, in hopes the winds of travel would clear his head.

Sluggishly, the party began to dress and ready themselves for the journey, removing any personal effects or clothing items that could possibly be used to identify them as envoys of Karonus. At the edge of the camp, a bag rested in the hollow of a tree, filled with traveler’s clothes. Joris wore the mark a freelance mage a feather and scroll pinned to an unadorned grey doublet with matching bronze fasteners overtop a white linen shirt, khaki trousers straight through the knee and fastened at the bottom and a pair of black riding boots. Dallion, Karson, and Hyulfgar simply dumped their heavy armor into the haversack and wore their chain and leather pieces. Dallion’s had some intricate markings Vas assumed were symbols of his heritage, while Karson and Gar wore the mark of Blades. Vas, luckily, still had the clothing he had bought for graduation at Talinzor’s—simple leather trousers laced from ankle to knee, a white leather coat with a split tail extending past his hips with a fur collar over a scaled chest piece.

As they grew closer to Elmora, the trees in the area started lessening and became more scattered than they were in the Mire. Despite their twisted bodies, the trunks were relatively slimmer, and their roots more massive and pronounced than any other tree Vas had seen in the area. It was odd, they looked as if they had started growing four or five feet above the surface of the stagnant water. The Blades boots sloshed through the numerous pools that decorated the travel route every couple of yards. To his surprise, the place wasn't teeming with fungi, like how he had always envisioned. Instead, he found an amalgamation of leafy, green vegetation, stringy grass with fuzzy tops, and thick, hollow tube-like plants with pen-like leaves, dangling like streamers at the top. The occasional group of toadstools that he did see were teeming along the edge of the banks of several pools of water, while others formed the fabled Fairy Rings that his mother used to tell him were gateways to the Highland, Kingdom of the Fae. Vas assumed they were just from some poor animal in the last stages of decay. In the center of it all was an expansive body of tepid water that the Hangman’s Trees grew from in clumps, creating a natural water trail. Lotuses decorated the river like the colored bows of gifts on Aiden’s Day, some of them black or white, while others were blue, pink, or red.

The further the group trekked, the more the swamplands continued leveling out, leaving behind the somewhat hilly regions of the woods the Spectres had spent the past several days navigating. How long has this journey been? A month now? And they had just arrived in Elmora? Tall grasses covered the bog, and cattails bounced with every occasional gust of wind that rippled the murky waters. Wooden walls, carved from tree-trunks and sharpened to a deadly point, rose in front of them, piercing the evening sky of crimson, yellow, and navy.

“Ho’ travelers,” A man approached them, Vas assumed he was one of the guards. “What brings ye to Elmora?” He spoke with a light, almost fluid accent. His words tied to each other—end to end—when he spoke, in a natural slur.

“Evening, Master Guardsman,” Joris spoke humbly. “We are, but only contractors and our long tiresome travels have brought us here, looking for a warm bed to sleep in and, hopefully, our next paycheck,” Joris smiled and bowed deeply. Vas thought it was rather elegant and a nice touch. Joris would be right at home with all the politicking in the Vale, the diplomats there always loved feeling important.

“We have no work for you, now turn right back ‘round where you came from, please.” The guard added.

“I see,” Joris scratched his chin, his mustache twitching as his signature, mischievous smile returned. “Not even for a Mage and his entourage of Blades?” He paused for a moment, arching his eyebrow curiously, the guard looked to be questioning his stance. Joris turned to leave, “Well, no, helping matters. Come. Let us head to Gallaher. Maybe THEY could have some use for our talents.” He said, emphasizing his group’s position. Joris gestured for the party to follow his lead. As he turned away, he looked at Vas and winked, counting from three with his knobby fingers.

“W-wait, maybe there are a couple of things we could use your help with.” The guard said hurriedly. “I-I was not aware you were all Blades, Master Mage!” He exclaimed. “Please, please enter! I’m sure the Lord and Lady will have much use for you! I-I can even arrange a meeting! I hear there be dire rumors surrounding Gallaher, right now.”

Joris turned to face the man slowly and smiled, his eyes narrow, again filled with that all-knowing light. Vas knew from his conversations and talks of the future. The gleam that said his plan was falling into place and going smoothly. “That won’t be necessary, Master-?” Joris motioned for the guard to introduce himself, waving absently with his hand.

“Garmond, sir,” The guard lowered his head to avoid Joris’ steely gaze. “Garmond Fals.”

“Master Garmond, then,” Joris nodded his head and stood, waiting several minutes as a gust of wind picked up, causing the fringe and tails of Vas’ jerkin to ruffle, almost on cue. “The gate, please, Master Garmond, or do you plan on keeping us out here in the cold?”

“My apologies. Let me get that for you.” He turned back to his post. “Oi! Ya sorry, Sods, get this here gate open, we have a couple of important visitors to Elmora!” He shouted. “I’m so sorry about that, Master Blades.” Garmond reached into his pouch and pulled five silver and handed them to Joris. “That should cover one night’s stay at the Howling Habbard, one of the finest taverns and inns this side of the Friesen River.”

Joris accepted them graciously. “Thank you Fals, I’ll see to it you are paid handsomely for your kindness,” Joris smiled kindly and motioned for Vas and the others to follow. When the gate shut behind them, Joris couldn’t help but laugh. “Being part of the Spectres, sometimes I forget how much fun it is playing the Silver Tongue.” He smiled widely, tossing the coins up in the air and then catching them. The five silver glimmered in the dimming sunlight. Vas didn’t really understand why Joris was so happy, it was only five silver. It's not like they were hurting for coin, nor were they without the funds for room and board.

“I guess we better find this Howling Habbard, shouldn’t we?” Joris began to walk off, whistling merrily, leaving Vas and his friends behind, staring in disbelief.

“Is- is this normal for him? He’s so spry and charismatic,” Vas asked Dallion and the others. They looked at each other and laughed.

“Aye, he is a right ol’ serpent, that one. A master of spinning tales and stories, better than any bard. Shrewd and conniving when he has to be, but overall a fun and useful bastard to have with us,” Dallion said. “You’d be hard-pressed to find another like him. Now come, I’m sure, his lordship needs his entourage,” The group nodded and laughed as they followed after Joris.

Vas watched the group follow and attempt to catch up to Joris. “He would be right at home in the Vale,” he said, a melancholic smile tracing its way across his lips. Much to learn, indeed. Hopefully, I can pick up a few tips.

“Welcome to Elmora, Traveler,” sang a musical voice. Vas looked around for the speaker. “Yoo-hoo, over here.” It was feminine, and she spoke the same way as Dallion; her voice was light and airy, almost melodic like she was reciting poetry.

“I assume you are part of the welcoming committee?” Vas said after locating the source. The quiver in his voice betraying the façade of confidence, it was shaky and quiet. He hated it.

The woman smiled at his response as she glided down the entry steps of a nearby building. One of the taverns, Vas assumed, judging by the connected stables and music resounding from its multi-colored oval-pane windows. “I suppose you can say something like that.” A light chuckle flew from her lips, like the tune of a songbird. She brushed a strand of her hair away from one of her violet-colored eyes as she approached him. The woman was young, looking to be about the same age as Vas, amber skin gleaming in the evening light. Her hair, which she continued to play with even after approaching him, was long and parted. The left half falling just past her chin covering her eye and hiding the corresponding ear. The right side she wore in a tight horizontal braid disappearing under a wave of the chestnut locks peeking around back of the same shoulder, ending at the bottom of her collarbone, atop the flat part of her petite breasts.

Between the exotic color of her skin and eyes, the painted red of her lips, and the light blush on her cheeks, the woman reminded Vas of the sunset he and Joris had watched in the Amberlynn Woods. An oddity, of course, but still one of the most beautiful sights he could possibly behold. He didn’t recall ever seeing anything or anyone, like her before. Even Dallion, despite being a half-blood, had adopted more of the Caucasian skin color he had seen and grown accustomed to in the Capital, although maintaining a hint of gold.

“I would be more careful about leaving my mouth open in a place like this, As’an Diel. Blood-Flies are notorious around this time,” The Amberllyn Goddess smiled at him, and Vas felt his heart rate falter and then immediately it tried leaping from his chest, making up for the skipped heartbeat. Vas’ hands grew sweaty as he felt the heat on his cheeks returning. Her familiarity struck a nerve with him. Her eyes were soft and kind, so full of adoration and life. She looked at him like she had just seen someone after spending years apart, and Vas wasn’t sure how that made him feel.

“I’m, uh, I’m sorry. I, I didn’t mean to stare,” He ducked his head and turned to flee in the opposite direction, figuring that would be the best course of action. “I-uh, I have to go find my friends. I’m sorry for bothering you.”

“Wait!” she flung out her hand, grabbing at his sleeve, pausing as if she was unsure of how she wanted to proceed. The sincerity and desperation in the woman’s voice took Vas by surprise.

“Let go of me!” He reared back at her touch, the urge to run screaming in his head. He didn’t understand why she was reacting in this manner, or even why he was for that fact. The Shadow, I hope not everyone in Elmora is like her.

As quick as she had grabbed hold of his sleeve, she let go, letting her arm fall limply to her side. She looked hurt as he recoiled from her touch. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” Tears formed at the corners of her eyes, she wiped them away and returned to a smile. Although it felt—and looked—forced. “I have to go, I hope we can see each other again,” Before leaving she opened her mouth as if to say something else and froze, seeming to reconsider her words. “You’re different,” She smiled weakly. Her voice quiet in the still late-evening air, as if she was talking from a distant memory of someone no longer present.

“I-I will see you around, Vas. Welcome to Elmora,” she said. Her gaze lingered on his for several heartbeats. Her eyes looking heavy, reflected a deep sorrow as if an immense and unseen weight burdened her. Vas turned away from her, embarrassed by his actions. She smiled and then walked past him.

As she walked by, Vas faintly grasped the smell of warm Vanilla-Honey, Wild Berries, and Lavender. It was soothing and comforting to him, familiar even. Vas realized he was staring at her as she walked past him until she disappeared into the crowds. She was a pleasure to look at, and despite everything, Vas hoped it wouldn’t be the last time. He felt a crooked smile form at the thought, then shook his head, “Focus.” He said quietly and walked towards the direction he remembered seeing his friends follow. I have a job to do, I can’t afford any distractions. No matter how tempting.

By the time Vas caught up with his squad, they were already sitting in the lounge of the Howling Habbard while Hyulfgar was busy tossing dice with the patrons at the table across from them. Most of his companions’ plates were empty, save for Karson’s who Vas assumed was on his second or third helping. The smell of roasted mutton and malted beer hung in the air permeating through the building. The lobby was abundant with the sound of drunken merriment and music. Joris and Dallion had both taken a fancy to some of the dancers up on the stage. The dancers were pretty; one could say beautiful even. They were exotic, skin colors ranging from a pale white to a dull brown. They wore fitted pants that were low-cut and tight around their hips and ankles, but loose around their legs so it wouldn’t hamper their movement as they glided through their steps. Despite the elegance of their leggings, their tops looked like they had just tied a piece of loose fabric around their breasts to protect what little modesty they had left, and that’s what most likely drew the eye of Joris and Dallion. Vas smiled, shaking his head at his companions’ depravity and turned his attention to the movements of the men and women on stage.

Their bodies spun through the air as they danced, a twirl here, a pivot there. The movements of their limbs and stomachs synced up nicely to the energetic music. They were so precise, so articulated. It was as if the dancers themselves controlled the ebb and flow of the notes, and the song itself was being written as they moved. He was enamored, entranced, a moth drawn to a brilliant flame. He had taken a fancy to the art of dance back home, the galas and balls he attended were some of his fondest, most treasured memories, well most of them. Around him, the inhabitants of the tavern joined together in the merriment. On stage, the dancer’s brightly colored outfits with frill and ribbons swimming through the air, untethered from the gravity of the world around them, reminded him of home. The din and rabble of the life ebbing through the tavern melted away, and for a brief moment, he was back home in the brilliant ballroom of the Karadims’ villa.

“You can’t just stand there the entire time Vasilios,” Aria approached the spot on the wall that he had taken root. “This is for us, after all.” She smiled at him. That damn smile. It was their Engagement Ball, and the Saerkins and Karadims had been planning it for years. She wore a long-sleeved night-blue gown of velvet that was tapered through her petite waist before blossoming outwards, falling to the tops of her ankle and navy slippers. Decorating the front from just below the collarbone was a golden linen inset matching the circular trim on the edges of the dress. The patterning on it was of a simple floral design, stitched with a darker shade of blue and rippled throughout the inset. Encompassing her arms and shoulders was a mantle made with the same trimming and fabric as the dress and sewn to the tops of the shoulder and high back. Her hair was tied up in a decorative bun with two curls spiraling down either side of her heart-shaped face, framing her lightly-bronzed features.

“What is it?” She asked him. She cocked her eyebrow and then placed her gloved hand on his lower jaw and closed it with all the gentleness of handling a porcelain doll. “Careful, you’ll have a mouth full of flies if you leave it dangling like that.” Vas felt the beating in his chest quicken at the soft touch of her hand, and then when she smiled at him, he swore it stopped altogether. He stretched out the collar of his doublet, letting the heat escape and prayed to the Shadow that Aria hadn’t noticed his embarrassment. “Now come, everyone is waiting for us to join in the festivities.” She chided. With the same delicacy as earlier, she clasped Vas by the hand and began to lead him to the ballroom floor. Vas fought her intensity at first and stood affixed to his spot.

Both of them too stubborn to submit, they started in a playful dance of dominance. Aria glaring at him, ice-blue eyes cutting like steel, Vas trying to stifle the smile he felt coming to surface. She gave one final tug, and when he wouldn’t budge, she let go, Vas’ arm swinging harmlessly to his side. Crossing her arms underneath her breasts, waist contrapose, she stared at him. The light from the chandelier and sconces shimmering in her eyes, warm golden lights dancing across her high cheekbones. He knew that look and pose. Rolling his eyes, he let out a silent groan. A lecture was soon to follow, but none came. Instead, she sighed heavily and shook her head, causing the curls of her golden-brown hair to bounce and sway. Her posture relaxed, and the mischievous smile returned to her painted lips—they were the color of pink tulips tonight. “Okay then, have it your way,” She found a spot next to him on the wall and mirrored him, slumped shoulders, arms crossed, and scowled.

“I don’t look like that,” Vas whispered defiantly, as he shifted his posture, hiding the blush that he felt growing on his cheeks.

“You’re right, I need to look grumpier.” She scrunched her face tightly, wrinkles appearing in the corner of her eyes and across her forehead. She looked at him and then stuck her tongue out, teasing him. “Better?”

“Ugh, fine.” Vas grabbed her hand and lead her to the center of the room. The eyes of the attendees followed them, Vas could feel their stares. It made him uncomfortable, like dozens of spiders crawling up his back, but ultimately that didn’t matter. He smiled mockingly at Aria, who was taken aback by his actions, although in her eyes, he could see the glimmer of triumph.

“Oy Elementalist! You with us?” the rough voice of the dwarf shattered Vas’ nostalgia, shaking him from his memories. He was back in the tavern and realized he had been absently staring at the dancers on stage. The dwarf’s heavy accent sounded coarse and painful compared to the fluidity of the Syl he had encountered earlier and the resurging memory of his last night in The Vale. “You gonna just stare at the pretty girls all day, or are you going to join us?” Hyulfgar said, laughing. His face was lathered in the foam from his mug of ale.

Embarrassed, Vas made his way over to the table his friends occupied, and sat down next to his peers. Meanwhile, Karson flagged down a red-headed barmaid for him, who was busy making her rounds. She was healthily plump and young, looking only several years older than Vas. I guess some might consider her to be attractive, Karson sure did, but nothing stirred for Vas, which he found odd. Karson went back to his flirtations with the girl, and then when she left returned to his meal.

“So, Elementalist.” Karson began in his thick, burly accent, between mouthfuls of food “What happened? Get lost on your way here?” he laughed, tiny bits of food spraying from his mouth.

“Not entirely. I ran into an odd,” Vas paused, trying to find the right words to describe the encounter. “An odd individual, I guess. She was Fae,” Vas’ meal arrived with a mug of rose-colored ale. Although he didn’t feel like drinking, he sipped at it slowly trying to numb the thoughts going through his head.

“Fae are nothing but trouble,” Hyulfgar grunted, “I tell ya it ain’t natural, bein born by Magic.”He complained, by the look of it the dwarf was already several mugs deep into his evening. “If you haven’t seen the tail-end of your mother’s cooch, you ain’t right,” His plump face as red as the ale Vas was drinking. Vas laughed into his pint, choking on the liquid. It sputtered and splashed onto his lips and nose, it was cold and smelled of barley and Elderberries. He pounded against his chest to correct the ale’s decent.

“And how do you propose Syl are born then, Gar?” Dallion said as he and Joris hobbled their way back to the table from the stage, looking uncomfortably stiff-legged. Dallion’s broad smile splitting his cheeks, and Joris’ hair a mess, resembling a bird’s nest.

“Well, they’re grown in orchards, right? And plucked from a tree, aren’t they? Like fruit,” He mimed picking an apple from a tree and polishing it on his soil and stain-ridden gambeson. The party exploded in a heap of drunken laughter.

“Syl prefer someone with a brain, Beardless. And that, my friend, is most certainly not you!” Dallion laughed. Gar grumbled under his breath and returned to his drink. He had lost this Battle of Wits and thus went about to sulking.

“So, Elementalist, what is this about Mystery Woman?” Karson gave Vas his full attention. Although the Northerner’s focus was probably because he had finally finished his fifth plate of food and was sliding the platter filled with meatless bones and crumbs, Vas wasn’t going to complain. As Karson spoke, it felt like the entire tavern wanted to listen to Vas’ story. The vibrant and energetic song the band was playing came to an end and moved to something quieter, more ambient, giving the dancers a break.

“What’s this? Our little Greenhorn has been captivated by a Faewoman? Oh, how I do love a good and tragic romance.” Dallion said animatedly. He hopped onto the bench, cupping his head in his hands and blinking wildly at Vas, his eyes as big as the empty plates in front of them.

“Maybe another time,” He laughed. “I’m spent, and nothing sounds better to me than a soft bed and a warm bath. We have a busy couple of days ahead of us,” Vas said dismissively. He didn’t feel like talking about it. Too many variables occupied the walls of his mind, and with each ricochet, it caused his head to spin. How did that Syl-woman know his name? What was the deal with that dream? And what was he going to do about home… He didn’t like any of it. Why can’t things just be simple?

You raise a good point, Child.” Joris responded coolly. “For now, I think it would be best if we call it a night. The Tavernmaster was kind enough to give us our own rooms, so try not to get too distracted. We do have a job to do,” He said with a wink. As Joris turned to head to his room, the red-headed barmaid returned to finish the clearing the tables and apparently, had taken an interest in Karson.

“Ah,” Vas said and then followed suit, his thoughts still burning wildly. Hopefully, he could talk to Joris about it, and they could decide what the right course of action would be for him. Afterward, Vas excused himself to his room for the night.