Hwalín turned her head, ears raised but looking at nothing in particular. “You know she sings in there?”

“In the shower? Yeah, I know.”

“She ain’t very good.”

“Is anyone?” Alma shrugged, before narrowing her eyes. “Don’t tell her you think that. Not that she'd believe you if you did. But then she might bust out the karaoke machine to prove you wrong and then you’ll really have hearing problems."

"Noted. Anyway, the lads, as I was saying, had started really pushing this new monster of a drug. But that wasn't stopping them from skimming off their own supply. Half of them was hooked on this shit all the time I'd seen them. And it made you angry. Really boiled the blood and sent you into fits of ritualistic violence. I'm talking shirts off, bare-knuckled, sweaty chest-puffing bloodsport. Pride staining with every careful step you take. It was like the ancient tales where our ancestors would imbibe before they tossed around in the sacred art of arse-kicking. That's one of my good memories." The Hecatian licked her lips as she spoke.

"I've always wondered why red elfwin are so violent. Always thought it was something in the air. Guess it's more like something in the ground."

"We're bloody warriors." Hwalín grinned. "I'm just lucky the bruises didn't show so well or I don't know what my uncle woulda done. Well, I never got as hooked on the stuff as much as the other fellas. And eventually demand got so high that we had to start scoping some really weird spots for the extra virises. Remote areas on the outskirts of town that hadn't seen the presence of any living elfwin since the days of the ancient ones. Deep, dark places that are said to be guarded by old—I’m talking really old spirits. Watch out if you ever spot one yourself because they’ll try to lead you deeper into the sacred emptiness of the sands. No one knows particularly where, but they say you always come back changed. And those people all say the same thing, that you get led to a place that beggars belief, beyond your wildest imaginings. Course I’ve never actually met those people and it’s probably more of a cautionary tale seeing as these places are off-limits to everyone. So naturally, those lands are the kinda place that attracts lots of old folklore and ghost stories—If you believe in that sorta thing. Which I suppose you do. Well, that wasn’t gonna stop me ‘n’ a couple of the boys from intruding to get our hands on them flowers. Stupid of us in retrospect, on account of how easy it is to get fucking lost. I never saw any sort of bloody spirit, but I swear something was leading me by the nose that day. Or ears, rather.”

“Really? What do you remember?” asked Alma. “Could it be you were just confused because you were a little…?” She censored herself by making a small whistling sound.

“Alma, please. It’s not something as vulgar as just ‘getting high.’ The elder priests believe flowers and herbs were a gift from the Trifather. We have a whole culture behind it, yeah? I know I made it seem like we revere any old plant. And in a way, we do. But each one has a special meaning to us. And it’s kinda like a weird opposing nature to our usual violent tendencies.”

“As represented by the leftmost head of your celestial trinity,” replied Qu’l-Nia. “The frozen face enshrouded in darkness that symbolizes empathy, temperance and mindfulness, who always watches the past to forever learn from his mistakes.”

“That’s right,” said Hwalín, crossing her arms with a profoundly pleasing look on her face. “Since you seem to know everything about this, Nia, why not tell us about the Trifather’s other aspects?”

Qu’l-Nia nodded. “The rightmost head, perpetually aflame and shining with unnatural light, represents rage, daring and love. He faces beyond, charging ahead into the future through impulse and desire.”

Alma’s lips parted slightly, noticeably interested.

“Finally, there is the center head of red stone, who faces the present, standing for life, death and affliction. His dozen eyes see all of his children. Their burdens, struggles and triumphs and judges all impartially. He rules alongside his wife Hecatia who—”

“Yeah, alright. Don’t wanna get too deep into that mess,” interrupted Hwalín. “But you get it. We’re raised to take these things seriously and respectfully. Only I didn’t care so much back then. And that was probably my biggest mistake.”

“I get it,” said Alma. “But then what made it worth trespassing where you weren’t supposed to?”

“Never done any kind of drug before, have you?”

“No. Drinking's my only vice. I really don't like drugs. Don’t like how fucked up it can make a person. I know it's different for you red elfwin. Your bodies are tailor-made for that stuff.”

“True enough. For us, it’s not that it’s unhealthy—It's even encouraged as part of certain meditations. But mixing any type of foreign element is just beyond disrespectful. And pissing off the gods is like, the one thing our people really abhor.”

"What ended up happening that day?"

“Well, things started out normal enough. Aside from the large port that leads out to the ocean, the rest of our town’s surrounded mostly by desert. There’s a few hidden valleys darting the wastelands off in the distance. It’s usually those places that are off-limits. I think back in the day they were used for ceremonial gatherings and shit like that. The one we went to was the biggest one. Lots of bluffs and outcroppings sticking out from high cliffs that cover most of the valley below. It can get pretty dark in some areas. Definitely not a place you want to hang around at night. Desert may not seem scary at fight but there’s just as much unexplained shit hiding out in those sands as in any forest. Most people will tell you it’s a trick of the heat and sand but after that day, I knew better. We went close to dusk that day, kinda stupid I know, but it seemed the best chance not to get caught at the time while there was still just enough sunlight to guide us. The entrance to the valley wasn’t too bad, before it started descending deep down the further it went. There was even a viris growing here and there near the cliffside, but apparently the real jackpot was much further in. Obviously, I was against it at first but the lads were hearing none of it. They didn’t want to travel through the grueling sands just for a meager handful of flowers, so eventually I relented and we decided to go deeper. Now this is when things started to get a touch weird. It began when we first spotted some odd formations carved into the cliff walls along with hanging pennants of tattered cloth billowing in the desert wind. Faded patterns and eroded symbols all around that made no sense to any of us. Ritualistic marks left by our ancestors, no doubt. As we pressed on, the markings began getting wilder and more erratic, as if carved in a frenzy. The one squeamish member of our group started getting the shakes and complaining about headaches. The rest of us ignored him. The excuses of a coward, we thought. It had been a while, without much flowers in sight, and the sun was getting very low on the horizon, when the headaches started to strike me too. It felt like a strong vibration in the air that shook through my eardrums and slowly turned into an intensely low humming sound.”