“Why are all shaman huts so smelly?” Azmond scrunched his nose and looked around.

“Az, that’s rude.” Rael chastised him, though they breathed through their mouth to prevent the smell from affecting them. They had to stop when they tasted a noxious combination of burnt herbs and exotic fragrances coating their tongue.

“What would you do if someone told you that you stink?” Rael prodded, noting Bak’s smile as he prepared some tea.

“I’d take a bath.” Az stated matter-of-factly, causing Bak to snort in laughter.

“Shamans need to live closer to nature to better understand it.” Bak brought over three cups of tea. He poured some goat milk in one and squeezed a thick honeycomb into another, pushing the former to Rael and the latter to Azmond. “Just as Arafell gave up an eye for eternal wisdom, so too must shamans abandon comfort in the name of understanding.”

“But there’s two moons?” Azmond blew on his tea, licking his lips as the sweet smell overpowered the miasma inside the hut.

“Correct!” Bak ruffled Azmond’s head, the child giggling at the roughhousing. “The dragons gave Arafell back his eye shortly before they left. A sign that they entrusted him to keep us safe in their absence. Or so the stories say.”

“To attempt to understand the plans of gods and dragons is madness.” Norn Astrid pushed open the door and took a deep breath. “Ah, home sweet home. Alright, start setting up.” She waved in three women in modified shaman garb, their normally colorful clothing dyed white.

The three women silently navigated throughout the messy hut, picking up herbs and tools hidden under piles of dirty pots and cracked masonry with the same practiced ease as Bak finding the tea. One cleared the table, handing the teacups to the three visitors and taking away old hides burned with obscure symbols, ancient parchments, and a few clay tablets. The table, now cleared, had a rounded divot in the center, a pattern swirling out from it in an elaborate mandala. The table was soon cleared, the assistants pouring ground herbs and colorful sand in each of the grooves. Astrid hobbled to the other side of the table, Shaman Bak sitting up and pulling out the chair for her. She grunted as she sat, the chair creaking as she got comfortable. The women kneeled behind her and closed their eyes.

“Before the dragons, we were blind.” Astrid’s tome-staff dissipated slowly as she talked. “We thought, in our hubris, that the gods had given us the land and seas to rule as we saw fit. It took a dragon for us to realize how small we were, how insignificant. Yet this same dragon taught us how everything is connected.” The crone held a gnarled finger to the hole closest to her, decorated with swirls and harsh lines. She ground her digit into it, stuffing the powder deeper inside. “The sun, whose name has been lost to time, ancient and resplendent, harsh and nurturing. The two older women were closing the curtains, cloaking the hut in darkness.

“[Slow Burn Ignition].” One woman called from behind the Norn, and the powder burst into flames. Ash dyed Astrid’s index finger black. The fire traveled slowly along the channels, lighting the largest circle’s outer edge in soft green flames.

“Our world basks in this warmth, which powers the cycles by which our lives are defined.” Blue fire followed Astrid’s fingertips as she traced a circle within the first. “Water rains into our rivers, seeps through stone, and joins the oceans to rise again as a burgeoning storm.” The circle intersected with another, the fire changing to dark amber. From the outside of this circle many more formed to join at the center, almost looking like the petals of a flower.

The Norn’s finger trailed ahead it, seemingly lighting it in her finger’s wake. “The vital essence moves in much the same way. Man and beast alike are born, eat, reproduce, and die within this cycle. Flesh and fiber are consumed for fiber and flesh, death and life perpetually building off one another in an eternal dance.”

In the center of the largest circle, formed by blue and brown ‘eyelids’, was an empty pupil. Tiny rivulets of fire crawled from every other circle in straight lines to the center, igniting the pupil in bright red light, flames spitting out from the center like a miniature volcano. The red light covered the entirety of the stone table, drowning out the other colors.

“At the center is our perception. How we see the world affects how we interact with it. What ideas form, what laws we write, our very sense of right and wrong shape the beliefs formed by observing the world.” The fire grew dimmer and dimmer, but the afterimage was still burned in Rael’s retinas. Shadows danced on Astrid’s gaunt face, making her look like a talking corpse.

“I want you both to remember that symbol. Let it be that which anchors you to this reality, rather than one you’ve created. Destiny or no, there are bigger things at play.” Her gaze shifted between the two before she focused on Rael. “I would like to start with Azmond, but we need to discuss something first.” Her tome reappeared in her hand, waving it over the table. The fire died instantly. The ash moved like water to form a pile in the pupil at the center.

“Bak told me you were interested in alchemy.” The crone tapped her fingers on the table.

“I am.” Rael was still wrapping their head around what they’d seen, Astrid’s statement catching them off guard.

“He also said that you were willful. Enough to be recognized by Derrol and Feldon. Enough to wrest control of your tongue back from the Verita Ring, an ancient relic of the Klamfik Empire.”

‘That magic hula hoop was a relic?’ Rael almost slapped themselves. Of course it was a relic, the Faulk must have amassed a treasury of ancient enchanted items over the past few centuries. They should have been clued in by the reverence the guard had as they brought it over.

“But you also have much rage. A good thing among Faulk fighters.” Norn Astrid frowned, sucking on her dentures. “Detrimental among those studying alchemy. Do you know how to meditate?”

Rael nodded. Thought about it. And then shook their head. They weren’t sure what meditating was, Rael always pictured it as sitting in one place silently for a few minutes without falling asleep.

“Good of you to think about it.” Astrid’s laugh was more akin to a wheeze than anything else. “Perhaps I should teach you before we head over to the Dragonneedle.” She licked a finger and dipped it into the ashes, collecting clumps of the stuff and spreading it in complex patterns over a squeamish Rael’s arms. ‘Old lady spit and ash, ewww.’

The next few hours were dedicated to strange rituals and odd exercises. Rael would be made to cross their legs and count their breaths in a measured cadence. ‘In through the nose, out through the mouth.’ The youth closed their eyes and focused on the mantra, trying to ignore Norn Astrid and her assistants' work. The youngest traced ash patterns over Rael’s skin. Her delicate fingers ran across their face, their neck, and their shoulders. The other two busied themselves with grinding things in a mortar or mixing liquids.

They sprinkled Rael in oils and played chimes near their ears. The three women chanted so softly, one might have thought the sound to be whispers of the long dead. A smog of incense clouded the hut, the Norn guiding Rael through different forms of meditation. Counting sheep, discussing old Faulk parables, even washing their hair.

“Spread your awareness from your face…do you feel tension there?” Rael could feel the old woman standing in front of them, even with their eyes closed.

Rael always felt tense.

“You need to let go, child.” Astrid gently ran her fingers down their head. “Relax. You are safe here.”

Rael let the tension in their face dissipate. It was…harder than they liked to admit.

“Good.” The Norn felt Rael’s face soften under her fingers. “Now spread your awareness down to your chest. Do you find the tension here as well?”

Astrid guided Rael throughout their entire body, from the top of their head to the tips of their extremities. Every now and then, she’d hum curiously, or pause and pinch a muscle before continuing. Once Rael had visualized their entire body and driven all the stress out of their body, the crone told them to open their eyes and ask how they felt.

“Better”, Rael said, just as they had for every other exercise before. And it was true. With every meditation technique the crone taught them, Rael felt as if the hand clenched around their heart would loosen somewhat. Only somewhat. It was a far cry from the death grip they lived with every day, but meditation made it…easier. The memories on the slave ship, of Yannis, of Rael’s…blood-related kin, they became easier to bear. It wasn’t enough to please Astrid.

Every time Rael said ‘better’, the Norn shook her head and sighed. This time, she sat down in her chair with a wince, putting her full weight on her tome-staff. She looked over Rael with eyes that could pierce any veil, scrutinizing Rael with such intensity that they did not doubt the old woman had seen the very essence of who they were.

“Bak told me you were a smith.” Astrid finally said. Rael nodded. “Do you think you could forge a weapon that refuses to cool? Or one made of a metal that you know little of?”

“I…don’t think so.” Rael’s mouth was dry, immediately on guard again.

“This is exactly what I mean.” Astrid waved a hand to Rael. “I say the wrong thing, and you clam up tighter than a crocodile’s jaws. As voice of the shamans and fae, I would normally know much more about whomever I was helping. But even with everything, there are secrets you want to keep from me.” Astrid leaned forward in her chair, putting her weight on her staff. Her gray eyes bore into Rael, the youth looking away.

‘I know she wants to help…’ Rael didn’t like feeling exposed, and Astrid was able to rub away at everything they were until their soul was laid bare. Terrifying images of wargs and chains filled Rael’s mind, closing her off from Astrid. ‘I can’t let my status as Meta lead me down the same road as before.’

“We all have secrets, dearie.” Astrid leaned back in her chair again with a dejected expression, holding up a hand and snapping her fingers.

Rael shivered, fearing it to be some signal to attack or use a spell to pull out their deepest secrets. But the three Norn assistants worked slowly and in tandem to fill a long, willow pipe with earth herbs and light it. Astrid gummed the pipe with practiced ease, blowing rings of earthy smoke into the air.

“If the other Norns knew I smoked kef, even if it helps my eyes, they’d lambast me.” The old woman sighed, twiddling the pipe. “I fear your secret may not be as innocent. You, Dragonward, have seen the opening of the Edge and the resurgence of Yannis.” She held up a hand to stop Rael from opening their mouth. “Do not try to deny the size of this event. In all the accounts, all Faulk history, this is unprecedented.”

She took a long drag, turning her gaze to Azmond. He had fallen asleep hours ago on a cot that Bak had cleared of Astrid’s mess. A small smile was on his lips, no doubt dreaming of sweets and chasing friends around.

“You must learn to temper your anger, Rael. If you cannot control your own impulses, how can you protect Azmond?” She blew smoke from her nose. “Hopefully, with the meditation techniques I taught you, you will be better equipped to quench your fire.” She pointed the end of her pipe to Rael. “Beware, for until you confront the root of your anger and your fears, you will be unable to control it. Now, I want you to make a promise.”

Rael sat straight. They narrowed their eyes.

“Don’t give me that look. I want you to promise that you, Rael Dragonward of Gulass, will never use what I teach you to harm another human being.” Rael’s eyes widened. “Alchemy is hard to learn, but easy to misuse. Once someone uses alchemy to turn the tides of war, this tainted knowledge spreads like a plague. Do you understand?”

Rael swallowed, meeting Norn Astrid’s eyes with steady determination.

“I understand.”

“Swear it.” Norn Astrid punctuated her statement by striking the floor with her staff, which lit up with glowing scripts. “Swear on your name, on the fae, and on the dragons.”

Rael had only heard such a vow once, at a wedding. The woman had been unfaithful and suffered because of it. Her name had disappeared from the minds of everyone she knew and she disappeared into the wilds not much later.

“I, Rael Dragonborn, born Raela Greenthistle of Gulass, swear on my name, on the fae, and on the dragons themselves that I will not use what you teach me to harm another human being without their consent.”

Something changed in the air as Rael finished the vow. As if an unseen audience had turned their heads as one to look at Rael, their expectant silence overpowering all other light and sound in the hut. Quick as it came, the sensation faded, lights growing brighter and sounds becoming clear again. The Norn nodded sagely, taking a deep breath from her pipe.

Once Rael had made their vow, Astrid woke up Azmond gently and ran him through a series of tests. She was far more respectful than she was with Rael, saying ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ every time Azmond followed her directions. At first, she tried to get him to sit down and answer questions, but Azmond just kicked his feet and allowed himself to get distracted. Once Bak suggested that she should treat him as a child, Norn Astrid made much quicker progress. She played games with him to see how quick his reflexes were, how fast he could move, how much strength he had. She tossed him candied fruits every time he completed a task, his sharp teeth snapping the sweets out of the air. It took until dusk for the old woman to be satisfied, and even then, she had to stop herself from asking more from Azmond.

She led Azmond and Rael outside, standing under the stone arch. The massive stones loomed overhead, one of the most ancient man-made constructions in the world. It awed Rael that humans could move such stones without any help from dragons, fae, or even magic. The path extended beyond the archway, outside the Stone Circle and into the rocky wilds beyond. If one looked through it, they would be curious on why the paved path looked so much cleaner past the arch rather than within the Stone Circle. Indeed, the winding path was pristine, untouched by the vegetation that almost burst from its sides. No blade of grass dared grow between the stones, no leaf settled on the path. Even so, the path twisted and turned in a manner that caused the observer's eyes to blink in confusion. Rael blinked, trying to follow where their eyes led them on the trail, but finding the path unfamiliar every time they started again.

The path ended at the foot of a great obelisk with a hole near the top. Another Dragonneedle, framed within the arch, bigger than the one Rael had seen before. The grass and small hills obscured some parts of it, but it stretched high over it all, the eye of the needle staring directly back through the archway.

Norn Astrid struck her staff to the ground, a sapling growing and bending to make a bench for her to sit on right outside the arch.

“You’ve seen a few of the relics ancient Faulk had ‘acquired’ from other kingdoms. The Veritas Ring, the Chancellor’s Bell, maybe even the Drunkard’s Amphora.” Astrid stretched, her brittle bones crackling. “None of those artifacts are as ancient or as important as the Stone Circle itself. The art of enchantments has been mostly lost to time, the Audye grandmasters a pale imitation of what humanity achieved with the dragon’s aid. The Stone Circle was not built on enchantments and lost knowledge, but a promise. One between fae and Faulk, to protect one another from outsiders. What do you see on the edge of the Circle?”

It was easy to find the difference in and out of the circle. The vegetation bustled and moved with unseen life, thick and resplendent flora almost fighting each other for space. Rael noted the grass was greener, but also a distinct oddness just outside the edge. As if they were looking at a mirage on a hot day, everything shimmered slightly. Azmond’s eyes were more accurate, scouring differences until they lit up in excitement.

“Mushrooms!” He pointed and hopped in place. He almost ran outside the Circle, Rael’s hand jerking to grab him by the shoulder. Azmond looked back sheepishly, trying to avoid Rael’s stare.

True enough, Rael was right. A line of mushrooms peeked beneath the thickest tufts of grass, disappearing into the distance, and reappearing on the other side. Another circle, one of mushrooms. A giant fairy ring.

“Humans and fae living side by side.” Rael breathed out in awe. “Two circles meeting.”

For fae to live side by side with humans was unheard of. There was a fundamental difficulty to communicate between the two. Rael’s own experiences cemented that notion. The symbol Astrid showed them flashed in their mind. Rael realized that even if everything they knew suggested something to be impossible, didn’t mean it was. The symbol of the two circles meeting…it wasn’t just a way to conceptualize human understanding, but a basic map of Stone Circle and its neighbor.

“Correct.” Astrid smiled and threw a bony hand into Shaman Bak’s gut. “Didn’t it take you a couple days to get?”

“I guess she had a better teacher.” Bak rubbed where the Norn hit him and ignored her glare.

“Every shaman walks the path, Dragonward.” Astrid’s glare softened as she turned back to Rael and Azmond. She spoke somberly, the twilight hour hiding her features. “To walk it is to invite others to explore the life you’ve lived. They will dig through your memories as roots dig through the earth. They will learn from you, as you will learn from your own experiences.” Rael bit their knuckle at that.

‘What is it with fae and memories?’

“These fae are unlike the ones you’ve met before. They have experience with humans and have organized themselves in ways they deem similar. Yet they are not aware of concepts such as shame and discrimination. Questions will be asked: childish ones, silly ones, fearsome ones. The answers you give will be important. Do not stray from the path without asking for permission, no matter what the memories you see or what temptations lie beyond. Many shaman apprentices have never returned. You two will go together. Are you ready to follow the path?”

Rael wanted to say no. What they went through with fae the first time was more than enough for them to give up on meeting fae for a lifetime. They felt as if every Faulk had been pushing them further and further along a set path under the guise of tradition. Where the Faulk pushed…

The Dragonward looked at Az, his gaze focused on the Dragonneedle in the distance. Every time he tore his eyes from it, his attention would be drawn back to it. His own body pulled at Rael, trying to walk past the archway. Despite himself, Azmond was attracted to the needle, like a moth to the flame. Rael couldn’t let him go alone. They grabbed his hand, the child looking up at Rael with a confused frown.

“Do you want to?” Rael knelt to meet him in the eyes, clasping his small hands in their own.

“No.” Azmond shook his head, tears brimming in his eyes. “But…I feel like I have to.”

“Then you won’t be alone.” Rael frowned and held his hand tighter. They stood up again and nodded in Astrid’s direction. Azmond pulled them towards the archway.