I will send you an unfinished story and a section of a future chapter that happens after a short days-long timeskip:
Theoclast
Chapter  I: Departure
A pilgrimage to the Temple of Ma'at is all my late mother had asked me to do before she passed away. She told me to take her urn to the reliquary so that her ashes could be in the same place as the Holy Corpse. I'm personally not a devotee of Ma'at, but I can see how the faith became popular. A demigoddess who defected from the enemy, the Theoclasts, to help protect an entire continent. The Barrier, sustained around Yuandi by the Five Pillars, is one of her greatest works. I am human. I was left by my parents' doorstep by the people who birthed me (whom I refuse to call "parents") and was raised by an Anglo-Elf family. Being the only one with dark hair in the entire village, my nickname became Bláicheare, though my name is Caelan. I have two sisters, one 5 years older and another 6 years younger. I was never treated as an outsider by anyone, though I can guess that's because of my innate light magic affinity. Ever since I can remember, I was healing the wounded. I heard that the Anglo-Elves despise humans, even though they're basically a mix between humans and elves. Perhaps they think having elven blood makes them superior.
When mother died, we held a funeral for two days as is customary. She died of an illness that my healing magic couldn't cure. After her cremation, my father agreed to let me take her ashes to the main temple. Since I'm the only able-bodied male in my family and I look old enough, I was the logical choice. Anglo-Elves mature slower than humans, so I look older than my sisters. Unfortunately, our nation, the Igirith Kingdom, is at war with the neighbouring Jirkaeriya Confederacy over the ownership of the large island on the west coast of the continent. We call it Haséaleen, they call it Haşarin. In my opinion, we should let Jirkaeriya have it, since we already overlook the Red Pillar on the far south of the continent. For some reason, the Anglo-Elves think the Hazrun can't be trusted to protect the Black Pillar, which is located in Haséaleen. With a war and border raids going or not, I still wanted to honour my mother's death wish, so I departed with a caravan of Mustalf (or dark elves, as some call them) that were in their way to the Archbishopric of Ma'at. Since they're neutral and wanderers anyway, I believe travelling with them was a good choice. The payment would be to provide free healing until we arrived at the Archbishopric.
I can only say I had some culture shocks while among the Mustalf. Firstly, our appearances are strikingly different. The Mustalf exclusively have dark skin, be it grey, black, or bluish due to an ancient curse placed upon them thousands of years ago, or so the stories say. That's why the elves despise them. They used to be a single race in the distant past, in fact. Their hair can be red, white, blonde, or black, and their eyes are often red, though many can also have golden, green, and blue eyes. To me, they look just like elves with a different coat of paint. Their language is quite similar to elvish, a language that everyone in Igirith knows at least a bit. The language of the Anglo-Elves is much more similar to the language of the Weisslanders, a generic name for the human tribes from the north of the Pectus continent, who fled their homeland due to the Theoclasm. They are also very loud, eccentric, and artistically inclined. All the time I heard song around me and any occasion could be an excuse to laugh and dance. Every night some wounded Mustalf men would come to me. I healed them without questioning, as this was part of our deal. A famous saying among them is 'Every Mustalf must know at least one trade, one more language, and how to play an instrument'.
Two Mustalf women took a liking to me: Tethys and Elna. Tethys looked older, perhaps around 28 in human years, and had an "older-sisterly" or motherly air to her, while Elna, despite telling me she was 24, looked younger. The Mustalf can live up to 200 years, while the Anglo-Elves live up to 130 years. Tethys knew some dark magic and liked to compare our spells. She even taught me how to draw certain sigils and circles and was always asking me to retrieve ingredients for her potions. Elna was more playful and reckless. She liked to show me tricks with her untrained fire magic. When we parted, the tribal elders proposed that I should stay. I refused, I'm no Mustalf, and I had a promise to fulfill. Elna couldn't bear to give her farewells when I turned my back to the caravan and began climbing the steep stairs to one of the many temples of Ma'at. The Archbishopric can be called a nation, I imagine. It has borders, a type of government, a self defence force... It's located on the centre of the continent and is nestled between high mountainous formations that serve as its natural borders and barriers against foreign invasions. However, I doubt anyone would invade it, it has kept its neutrality since its foundation almost 500 years ago, is responsible for maintaining the Five Pillars, and serves as a haven for the disenfranchised of all races.
The way up is exhausting, but they fortunately have outposts built along the winding mountain paths, though not all of them are manned. For my first stop, I simply took out a bedroll and slept on the ground of a quite small and empty stone outpost. Even though there were people offering transportation, I decided to go on foot since I was low on money. Two days later, I had eaten the last of my rations. My legs burnt from the physical exertion. All I could see around me were the road, the mountainside, and some nameless small plants around me. The saying "a nap is sometimes a poor man's meal" came to my mind, but where would I sleep? The sun was still up and I had nothing to make a quick shelter, not even sticks to hang some fabrics.
Then I heard the loud laughter of a male. Perhaps it would be my salvation. I would buy some of his food with the money that remained. As the voice came closer, I heard others who accompanied the man. Women, it seemed. I waited patiently until they came across me and was surprised to see that they were Hazrun, the horned people from Jirkaeriya who were currently at war with my nation. Since I'm not an Anglo-Elf, perhaps they wouldn't be hostile to me. "Pyae! Aki umanu!" Said the male. He was taller than me, very muscular, and had tattoos or bodypaint all around his body. His skin was grey, his hair white and his horns were curved like a ram's. He walked shirtless and carried a large war axe on his shoulders. He came close to me and knelt down where I was sitting, looking at me with his piercing golden eyes. He said something to his companions, who were three Hazrun women as well. I gestured that I was hungry and offered him some coins, but he closed my hand and gently shoved it back towards me. They began unpacking and soon set up a fire to roast some small animals.

NOTES
HUMAN
HEIGHT: 170CM (MALE), 160CM (FEMALE)
LIFESPAN: 80 YEARS
HAIR: BLACK, BROWN, BLONDE, RED. CAN BE CURLY, WAVY, OR STRAIGHT
EYES: BLACK, BROWN, GREEN, BLUE, GREY
SKIN: OLIVE, BROWN, WHITE WITH PINKISH OR YELLOWISH UNDERTONES
ONCE THE MOST NUMEROUS SPECIES OF THE PECTUS CONTINENT, THEY WERE FORCED INTO A MASS EXODUS BY THE THEOCLASM. MOST LIVE ON THE REPUBLIC OF NEW MEDIETAS, WHICH IS KNOWN FOR ITS HARD-WORKING POPULACE, DOMAIN OVER INSCRIPTION MAGIC AND GOLEM CREATION, AND STRANGE, STEAM AND COAL-POWERED TECHNOLOGY. HUMANS USED TO BE DIVIDED IN THREE MAIN GROUPS: THE NORTHERN WEISSLANDERS, THE CENTRAL-EASTERN SENDRALESE, AND THE WESTERN ENIYAN, WITH EACH HAVING DIFFERENT PHYSICAL FEATURES. THESE CULTURAL DISTINCTIONS ARE MOSTLY IRRELEVANT FOR THE HUMANS OF THE PRESENT DAY.
ANGLO-ELF
HEIGHT: 180CM (MALE), 165 (FEMALE)
LIFESPAN: 130 YEARS
HAIR: RED, PINK, ORANGE. CAN BE CURLY, WAVY, OR STRAIGHT
EYES: GOLDEN, BLUE, GREEN
SKIN: SAME AS HUMANS, THOUGH LIGHTER TONES ARE MORE COMMON
A HYBRID RACE RESULTING FROM THE MIXING OF ELVES AND WEISSLANDER HUMANS, WHO FOUND THEMSELVES UNWILLINGLY SHARING THE SAME LAND AFTER THEIR EXODUS FROM PECTUS DURING THE THEOCLASM. TIME MADE THEM FORGET THEIR DIFFERENCES BUT THE FEW THOUSAND ELVES WHO REMAIN ARE AFRAID OF BEING OUTBRED DUE TO THE FACT THAT THEIR BLOOD IS “WEAK”, MEANING THAT ANY ELF-HUMAN OFFSPRING WILL LOOK ALMOST IDENTICAL TO A HUMAN, NOT INHERITING THE POINTED EARS AND THE GOLDEN SKIN THE ELVES PRIZE SO MUCH. THEIR COUNTRY, IGIRITH, IS JOKINGLY REFERRED AS AN “ELFOCRACY” BECAUSE ALL ELVES ARE GRANTED NOBLE STATUS AT BIRTH AND OCCUPY MOST POSITIONS OF POWER.

MUSTALF
HEIGHT: 175CM (MALE), 170CM (FEMALE)
LIFESPAN: 200 YEARS
HAIR: WHITE, RED, BLONDE, BLACK. CAN BE WAVY OR STRAIGHT.
EYES: GOLDEN, BLUE, GREEN, RED
SKIN: GREY, BLACK, DARK BLUE
A NOMADIC RACE OF ECCENTRIC WANDERERS THAT ARE ESSENTIAL FOR COMMERCE AND SERVICES IN SMALLER SETTLEMENTS. THEY USED TO BE MISTRUSTED ON YUANDI AFTER THEIR EXODUS FROM PECTUS DUE TO THE CLAIMS MADE BY THE ELVES THAT THEY ARE A CURSED RACE, BUT QUICKLY GAINED WIDESPREAD TRUST DUE TO THEIR TALENTS AND SERVICES. MODERN SCHOLARS MOSTLY AGREE THAT THEY ORIGINATED FROM AN ISOLATED SECT OF “SILVER ELVES”. THE FACT THAT MUSTALF BLOOD IS DOMINANT (I.E. EVERY HYBRID OFFSPRING WILL BE BORN AS A MUSTALF) IN CONTRAST TO ELVEN BLOOD BEING RECESSIVE FURTHER COMPLICATES THE DISCUSSIONS. THE MUSTALF HAVE STRONG ATTACHMENTS TO THEIR CARAVANS, RARELY LEAVING THEM OR PERMANENTLY SETTLING ELSEWHERE.
THEOCLASM
DATE: 1253 CHAOTIC AGE (498 YEARS AGO)
LOCATION: PECTUS AND WESTERN YUANDI
CASUALTIES: UNKNOWN, ESTIMATED AT MORE THAN A BILLION
“THE CRUMBLING EARTH BENEATH THE WEAPONS ROARING, FLYING CHARIOTS THROUGH THE SKIES SOARING. DEICIDE, A STORMING WAVE, RISES TO MAKE THE WHOLE WORLD’S GRAVE.”
A RACE WITH ARTIFACTS AND TECHNOLOGY SO ADVANCED THAT THEY SEEMED LIKE MAGIC DISCOVERED THE SECRETS OF DISSIPATING AND HARNESSING DIVINE ESSENCE, MEANING THAT THEY COULD KILL DEITIES AND USE THEM AS ENERGY SOURCES. THE ONCE DEATHLESS FIGURES REVERED BY MORTALS WERE THEN JUST AS VULNERABLE AS MANKIND. WITH THE EXTERMINATION OF A POWERFUL DEITY WIDELY WORSHIPPED THROUGHOUT PECTUS, THE THEOCLASTS ACQUIRED IMMENSE POWER AND THREATENED TO SUBJUGATE ALL THE RACES OF MAN. MA’AT, A THEOCLAST WHO WAS INFUSED WITH AN UNKNOWN DEITY MILLENNIA AGO AND WHO SERVED AS THE THEOCLASTS’ MAIN ENERGY SOURCE, FREED HERSELF FROM HER OWN PEOPLE AND ENCLOSED YUANDI INSIDE A BARRIER THAT STANDS TO THIS DAY. HER ACT OF SELF-SACRIFICE EARNED MILLIONS OF FAITHFUL WHO WORSHIP HER AS A CARING PROTECTOR GODDESS.

Chapter II: Itoha (Alliance)
"Haka tsu myei ye Taokar." He said, pointing to himself. "Yuz uragere ye Kuşien, Kunnebudo pa Manmurekan." He said pointing to his companions. All my life I was taught that the Hazrun were barbaric beyond belief, that they drank the blood of beasts and that they were promiscuous and immoral, and thus unfit to have the Black Pillar within their borders. Looking at them, I just saw kind people. Yes, their appearance is striking, but they seem to be empathetic, at least. The women had an alluring beauty to them. Kunnebudo was grey-skinned and golden-eyed like Taokar, but her chest-length hair was silver-coloured and her horns were short, pointy, and straight. She wore a loose, long-sleeved tunic and a type of baggy trousers. Manmurekan had very long braided black hair that went down beyond her waist. Her eyes were red as rubies and she had four horns, two short ones on the scalp and two thicker ones on the sides of her head. She wore a hair veil and exquisitely detailed red clothes that contrasted with her extremely pale skin that was the colour of marble. On her forehead was a tattoo resembling an eye.
Kuşien, the most quiet one, also had marble-coloured skin. Her wavy hair was black and shoulder-length and the two horns that grew from where her forehead ended and the hairline began were longer than Kunnebudo’s and slightly curved. Her eyes were a piercing jasper colour. She had peculiar facepaint under her eyes that resembled streams of tears. She wore ornate black and grey clothes that covered most of her body. It almost seemed like mourning attire to me. She carried a bow and a quiver with her.
After swiftly skinning a rabbit and two lizards, they promptly skewered them and put them over the fire. Observing them, I could see that Taokar was the most talkative, while Kunnebudo seemed to be airheaded. Manmurekan had a wise air about her and Kuşien sometimes looked at the sky with a deep sadness or longing. We tried communicating with words and to my surprise, Kuşien spoke Sendralese, the language of the humans of New Medietas, of which I knew but a few words. However, since I could only speak Anglo-Elven, we shifted back to mimicking and gestures with the occasional Hazrun word. It wasn't much, but we ate the small animals to the bone. It was good to finally have something in my stomach.
Before these four, I had only seen the Hazrun from afar, chained as war prisoners. If my father knew I was having a friendly interaction with the enemy, I'd never hear the end of it. I felt obligated to repay the group. Since they didn't want my money and there was a language barrier between us, I decided to show them what I could do to be useful. I slashed my hand with a knife and showed it to them, then cast a healing spell to close the wound before their eyes. Taokar gave a wide smile and said words that sounded like encouragement. Manmurekan looked at me with an intrigued gaze. Kunnebudo suddenly remembered something and went after Kuşien, who was sitting on the ground on the way ahead of us. Bringing Kuşien by hand, Kunnebudo gestured for me to heal her, raising Kuşien's tunic and showing me a wound on her porcelain-white waist. Berating her friend, Kuşien appeared opposed to this, but I insisted and hovered my hand over her wound, casting a light healing spell.
The injury vanished without a trace. Everyone looked expectantly at Kuşien, who said "Agrazas" - thank you in Sendralese. They all laughed as she awkwardly walked back to where she was before. Taokar patted me on the back, again saying words that sounded friendly. They gestured for me to come along with them. Through drawings on the ground, they explained that there could be monsters on the way and that we would sleep at the next checkpoint. We only had about two more hours of sunlight, so we should hurry.
Fortunately, the only things in our way were a group of harpies, strange chimeric creatures with the head and bust of women and the body of birds. Kuşien quickly disposed of them with her arrows while Manmurekan backed her up with fire magic. We arrived at a manned outpost that was guarded by some human and Anglo-Elf guards. The Hazrun group couldn't disguise their discontent upon seeing people of the enemy race protecting the place in which we would sleep. I took initiative and talked to the Anglo-Elf guards, stating that we would stay for the night with our own equipment. They assured me they'd stay out of the way and that they understood the Hazrun sentiment, even if they weren't personally involved in the war and were instead aligned with the faith of Ma'at. 
The Hazrun group thought it strange that I knew Anglo-Elven but not Sendralese, giving me sidelong glances from afar. Kuşien said something and their suspicion went away. I believe she reminded them that Sendralese wasn't the only language spoken by the humans of New Medietas. As we were setting our bedding and getting ready to sleep in turns, one of the Anglo-Elf guards approached with an object resembling a metallic candle in his hands. The Hazrun group pretended to ignore him, but Kuşien stared at him with what I can only guess was murderous intent. "This is an area translator." The guard said. "You need but to infuse mana to activate it. I believe you're unable to communicate with your companions." I thanked him and placed the translator in the middle of the rough circle formation we were in. I ran a bit of mana through it, which made it glow faintly and emmit a low hum.
"Disgusting blood-haired hornless fiend..." Kuşien said under her breath. The red-haired guard simply nodded at me and walked away. "Come on, Kuşien... I don't like their race but they're the ones protecting us right now." Taokar said. "Aye... No good will come from such aggressiveness. We should relax and try to have a good night's sleep." Manmurekan remarked. I pretended not to understand their words. Kunnebudo absentmindedly asked "Human. That object. What is it?" She used simple words they had already taught me earlier. "An artefact that translates speech in an area. I can speak in any language and you'll hear it in Hazrunic in your minds and vice-versa." Kunnebudo’s mouth gaped. Taokar seemed happy to hear my voice in his own language, but he was too tired for his usual exaggerated reactions. Manmurekan and Kunnebudo looked at eachother and began giggling while Kuşien looked at them with an expression that simultaneously showed irritation and pleading.
"It's already dark and I can't see anyone else seeking shelter here. Why don't you play the flute for us, Kuşien?" Manmurekan suggested. "In front of the human?" She protested. Her companions nodded. "Your flute really helps us sleep. It's also a good opportunity to show the human your talents." Taokar added. Kuşien’s face flushed as she muttered something while searching for the flute among her belongings. "Since you asked for it... Here goes a song that I used to... Play with Hadrian..." She said with a hint of grief. Hadrian, huh? That's a human name. So Kuşien has depths unknown to me. The melody was as sorrowful as her longing gazes towards the clouds earlier. She played with such passion that my eyes began to well up. She wiped her eyes with a sleeve after finishing. Taokar snored softly on the corner and Kunnebudo yawned. "Thank you, Kuşien. I'm sure your melody reaches Hadrian wherever he is." Manmurekan said, patting her on the shoulder. "Now that we can understand eachother, why don't we talk about magic, human?" She continued. Kuşien got up and excused herself, leaving in the direction of the door. I think she needed some space after that.
Manmurekan began telling me about the bases she dominated, which were thunder, fire, and wind, and asked me about mine. I replied that I was never trained and knew only about light magic. "That's no good. I can see you have talent but no technique. You can somehow infuse more mana into low-level healing spells, thus making them more powerful than they should ordinarily be." She said, scratching her chin. "Oh, and about that urn. What is its purpose? I wish I could have asked you sooner but the language barrier made it hard for us to communicate." "It's my mother's ashes. I'm taking them to the reliquary where Ma'at's corpse is enshrined." I answered. She looked at me puzzled, her head slightly tilted to the right. "You burn your dead? What a strange custom you humans have."
Do the Hazrun bury them instead? I decided their funerary customs weren't a priority at the moment and continued to talk about magic. Manmurekan could only use offensive magic and the group relied on first-aid and potions to heal eventual wounds. She told me how they fled Kuşien and Taokar’s home village during a raid and were now on their way to her home village located on the mountains between Jirkaeriya and the Archbishopric. "We Hazrun are divided into three main tribes: the Berihazrun, the Damohazrun, and the Keiozhazrun, though there's a number of smaller ones. I'm a Damohazrun and I want to see my family once again before the war moves further north." The war had never reached my village. I had heard of Hazrun skirmishes on the same duchy I lived in but I think my village was too out of the way to be a feasible target.
“It’s a noble quest you’re on.” She said. “In our culture, we carry the memories of our ancestors through tales sung under the moon. Each method has its beauty, does it not?” I nodded, touched by her respect. “It does. I suppose we’re all trying to keep memories alive, in whatever way we can.” Manmurekan leaned back, her eyes scanning the starry sky through the window as if searching for the right words. “You know, Caelan, when we left Kuşien and Taokar’s village, we knew our journey would be fraught with danger and that we might never see our homeland again. But there was something about it that felt invigorating.” Her red eyes met mine again. “You have a quest of your own, to honour your mother. But what about after? Have you thought about what lies beyond the reliquary?” I hesitated, the truth being that I hadn’t allowed myself to look that far ahead. “I haven’t,” I confessed. “I guess I was so focused on my promise that I didn’t think about what happens next.” “That’s understandable,” she replied, her tone encouraging. “But perhaps, once your duty is fulfilled, you could find a new purpose with us. The journey ahead is uncertain, and having someone with light magic and your kind heart could make all the difference.” Her words stirred something within me. Yet, duty bound me, a vow to my late mother that I could not forget.
“I would be honoured to join you,” I started, feeling the weight of my next words, “but only after i’ve delivered my mother’s ashes to the reliquary. That’s a journey I need to complete, not just for her, but for myself.” Manmurekan nodded, a look of respect crossing her face. “I understand. And we’ll await your decision while accompanying you, whenever you’re ready.” As she spoke, a plan began to form in my mind. I would proceed to the Temple of Ma’at as planned, but my journey wouldn’t end there. First, I needed to communicate with my father. The thought of him alone, coping with his grief without me there, weighed heavily on my heart. I needed to explain that my journey was taking a turn I hadn’t expected and that I would take longer to come back. “i’ll need to send a letter to my father,” I said, more to myself than to Manmurekan. “He should know that my travels will take longer than anticipated.” Manmurekan nodded. I smiled, grateful for her understanding and support. In that moment, the former strangers around me felt less like allies of convenience and more like companions. As Kuşien came back to us, her movements were careful, almost guarded. She did her best to look anywhere but at us, a silent plea to not probe or question. The light from the fading fire caught her just right, revealing her eyes, slightly swollen, betraying her recent tears. Yet, she said nothing of it, and neither Manmurekan nor I chose to pry. 
It was Manmurekan who broke the silence that had settled among us. “We’ve decided to accompany Caelan to the reliquary. Afterward, he’ll join us on our journey to my village.” She announced. Kuşien stiffened, her reaction immediate and visceral. She looked towards Manmurekan, a mix of nervousness and apprehension in her eyes. “But why? Is that necessary? We...” She began, her voice trailing off as if she couldn’t quite find the argument she wanted to make. Her ember-coloured eyes darted from me to Manmurekan repeatedly. Manmurekan simply waited, her gaze settled on Kuşien until, eventually, she conceded. “Fine. Welcome aboard.” Kuşien muttered, her welcome barely audible as she settled down for the night, turning her back to us, a clear sign she wished to close the conversation. A moment later, with Kuşien sleeping or perhaps feigning it, Manmurekan leaned dangerously close to me, her husky voice dropping to a whisper and her warm breath carrying a message. “Kuşien’s nervousness… it’s not about the journey or you joining us,” she confided, her eyes darting to where Kuşien lay. “You remind us all of Hadrian. There’s a resemblance. Your appearance, your personality...” That revelation hit me with unexpected force. Hadrian. It explained the distance Kuşien maintained, her moments of withdrawal, her mixed reactions towards me and her inexplicable sorrow. A sense of empathy for Kuşien’s unspoken pain bloomed within me. "I hope she'll be able to cope with travelling with the spitting image of her late lover." She murmured again. "Now, let's have a good night. Sleep well, Keiran." Keiran? I checked the area translator, which had stopped humming and glowing right after Manmurekan wished me a good night. Since we wouldn't need it for now, I took it back to the guards.

NOTES
HAZRUN
HEIGHT: 175CM (MALE), 155CM (FEMALE)
LIFESPAN: 80 YEARS
HAIR: WHITE, GREY, BLACK. CAN BE WAVY OR STRAIGHT.
EYES: GOLDEN, ORANGE, RED, BROWN
SKIN: COLORLESS WHITE, GREY, BLACK. MOST HAZRUN ARE BORN WHITE BUT DARKEN WITH SUN EXPOSURE.
A SPECIES OF HORNED HUMANOIDS NATIVE TO YUANDI. THEIR NAME LITERALLY MEANS “HORN PEOPLE” IN REFERENCE TO THEIR MOST DISTINCTIVE CHARACTERISTIC. THEY HAVE TABOOS AGAINST EATING THE FLESH OF HORNED ANIMALS AND PITY THE OTHER RACES FOR BEING HORNLESS. FORMERLY SUBJUGATED BY THE SHUN DYNASTY OF THE RENSHI PEOPLE TO THE EAST, THE HAZRUN REGAINED THEIR FREEDOM DURING THE INSTABILITY CAUSED BY THE THEOCLASM. THEIR CULTURES ARE REFERRED AS “TRIBES” DESPITE THEM BEING CIVILISED DUE TO ANCIENT TRADITIONS FROM BEFORE THE SHUN YOKE AND FROM ADOPTING CUSTOMS FROM THE FREE HAZRUN TRIBES THAT REMAINED OUT OF SHUN CONTROL. A HIGHLY MILITARISED CULTURE TO DEFEND THEIR FREEDOM, THE HAZRUN HAVE DOMESTICATED CERTAIN DRACONIC SPECIES, LEADING COMMERCE IN ALCHEMIC INGREDIENTS, MAINLY TO THE REPUBLIC OF MEDIETAS, ITS NORTHERN NEIGHBOUR. THEIR WYVERN RIDERS ARE INFAMOUS AS HIGHLY MOBILE CAVALRY SCOUTS AND THEIR FEMALE BATTLEMAGES ARE CONSIDERED SOME OF THE BEST.
AREA TRANSLATOR
A VERY USEFUL MAGICAL ARTEFACT PRESENT MOSTLY ON LARGE CITIES AND THROUGHOUT THE ARCHBISHOPRIC OF MA’AT. IT CASTS AN AUDITORY ILLUSION IN AN AREA AROUND IT, MAKING THE PEOPLE IN ITS AREA UNDERSTAND EACHOTHER AS IF SPEAKING AND HEARING THEIR OWN NATIVE LANGUAGES. UNIVERSAL TRANSLATORS ARE QUITE RARE OUTSIDE OF THE ARCHBISHOPRIC, WITH MOST HAVING ONLY TWO OR THREE LANGUAGES INSCRIBED ONTO THEM.
HARPY
MYSTERIOUS CHIMERIC CREATURES WITH THE FACES AND BUST OF WOMEN AND THE REST OF THE BODY LIKE THAT OF A BIRD. THEIR ORIGIN IS UNCLEAR. SOME THEORISE THEY WERE CREATED BY ROGUE ALCHEMISTS, BY DEMONS, OR BY EVIL DEITIES, WHILE OTHERS THEORISE THEY SPAWN FROM COMMON BIRDS EXPOSED TO LEYLINE EMISSIONS. HARPIES PREY ON ANY LIVING ANIMAL THEY CAN FIND AND EVEN EXHIBIT SOME INTELLIGENCE, COORDINATING THEIR ATTACKS AND HAVING A SORT OF HIERARCHY.

Chapter III: Teamwork
"Tough crowd, huh?" One of the Anglo-Elf guards commented as I came to them with the device in hand. "I don't mean to pry, but why are you travelling with the horned ones, human?" I scratched my chin thinking of a good answer. "They helped me when I was in need and we became friendly in time. There's really not much to it." He raised an eyebrow. "I see. Are you eyeing any of those girls? Don't get your heart broken, they're not fond of us hornless people." Little did he know they treated me as one of them. I thought it better to disregard his ignorance, or rather, lack of knowledge. I thanked the guards for their services, gave them back the area translator and went back to where my group was sleeping. I laid down on my bedroll and drifted into an unnaturally deep sleep.
I opened my eyes, seeing only a black void around me. I felt as if there was no ground below me, no air going through my nostrils. "Ah... I'm dreaming." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of light and from it emerged a blue sphere with a white circle engraved on it, making it similar to an eye. A female voice echoed, repeating "The Blue Pillar will change a nation's fate. The Black Pillar cracks under a war's weight. The White Pillar is hidden behind veils. The Green Pillar's protection fails. The Red Pillar guards an empty throne filled with hate." Was it a prophetic dream or was I thinking too much about the war in my own nation? Most dreams are often works of our own minds. I simply waited for it to end. Upon opening my eyes, the first thing I saw was a pair of golden eyes peering at me. I stiffened and quickly sat up. "Kunnebudo, you scared me!" She giggled and began to speak in Hazrunic. "Oh, the area translator was returned to the guards." I said, pointing to the entrance. Hearing my incomprehensible words, Kunnebudo seemed to wilt. The device was so useful that I told myself I'd save some money to buy one of my own. I looked around and saw our companions getting ready for the day.
A variety of small recipients was scattered on the ground and from them the Hazrun dipped their fingers and painted themselves with ink. Manmurekan used red to paint around her eyes, Kuşien used yellow to draw the vertical lines under her eyes, and Taokar used various colours to paint his arms and chest. Kunnebudo signalled for me to help paint her back, moving her index finger in an imaginary drawing for me to replicate. I was unfamiliar with this custom. The bodypaint appeared to be symbolic of attributes each of them wished to represent or reinforce, so what could back painting mean? Kunnebudo lifted up her tunic, showing me her smooth-skinned grey back. I took some yellow dye and did my best to replicate the design she showed me. When I finished, she showed it to Taokar, who nodded in approval. Kunnebudo dipped her finger in green and drew something on my throat. Perhaps its purpose was to help me communicate with them.
After a quick breakfast and final checks on our gear, we prepared to leave. I approached the guards one more time, requesting to borrow the area translator so we could finalise our plans. With the device once again allowing us to communicate, Manmurekan took out a map, comparing it against the one etched into the outpost’s stone wall. “Look,” she said, pointing out the inconsistencies between them. Some paths shown on the wall didn’t appear on our map, and vice versa. “There might be shrines or old outposts not listed here,” Manmurekan mused, her finger tracing potential routes. “We should consider hunting along the way,” I suggested. “Not only for food but maybe we can trade at the next village.” The group agreed. Our journey took a new turn with this plan. We would make for the village near the next outpost, aiming to resupply, possibly finding work, given our dwindling funds. Taokar, with his boisterous confidence, declared, “Nothing like a good hunt to start the day!”
We managed to hunt successfully, and by the time we reached the village, we were laden with more than just food. There were herbs and other miscellanea we had collected along the way, hopeful they might fetch a price. In the heart of the village, without the translator, our interactions became a mix of gestures, smiles, and the few words of the languages I knew. I offered healing where I could, and the villagers’ initial wariness gave way to gratitude. Coins, food, and even a few trinkets were gifted in return. It was then we heard of a creature troubling the village’s outskirts. A concerned human villager told us through Kuşien's translations, his unrest evident in his eyes. It had attacked their goats, but they were apprehensive about the thing developing a taste for people.
My companions and I exchanged looks. This could be the work we were looking for. Not what I had expected, but perhaps what we needed. Tasks in the villages often involved mending fences and the sort, not facing beasts, yet the decision was unanimous without a word spoken. I found myself agreeing to hunt the unknown animal, or at least to heal those who were going to hunt it. The villager produced a crude drawing on paper of a quadrupedal creature with two blank circles for eyes. It prepared to attack a goat under the moonlight, a crescent and stars adorning the sky. With this it was evident that it appeared at night. We planned to wait for night to fall, hide where the goats were gathered, and ambush the creature when it attacked. Until then, it sounded like a good idea to just relax on the village. The alpine scenery was different from the pine-covered forests of my home village.
Our afternoon venture into the village, with the group occasionally splitting to explore, found Kunnebudo and me paired by an unspoken agreement. Taokar, eager to earn more coins, went to help the inn's owner with carrying and chopping a great amount of wood. Kuşien disappeared to some unknown corner of the village (or even outside of it) and Manmurekan  volunteered to care for our belongings in that same inn. The group had agreed to meet up there at twilight. Without the aid of the area translator, my interaction with Kunnebudo was a series of comedic misinterpretations, her attempts at conveying thoughts often leading to humorous confusion. Kunnebudo seemed to find the village fascinating. She wandered with wide eyes and, drawing chuckles from vendors as she examined their wares with exaggerated wonder, once holding up a simple spoon as if it were a relic.
As the evening approached, we regrouped at the village inn for our meal. The villagers inside cast sidelong glances in our direction, their curiosity piqued yet veiled by a layer of apprehension. Seated at an isolated table, our presence remained a silent island amidst the murmurs. The gap in language and familiarity lingered. Dinner was served in generous portions, probably in gratitude to Taokar’s help earlier. As we ate, the initial reservations of the village folk seemed to soften, curiosity slowly overtaking their wariness. In a moment inspired perhaps by the easing atmosphere, Kuşien retrieved her flute. The first notes grew into a soothing melody. The music enveloped villagers and travellers alike. The performance was met with applause from the gathered patrons, their earlier reservations seemingly washed away by music. Taokar, seizing the moment, engaged the closer villagers with a blend of charades and laughter, his demeanour disarmingly genuine.
The innkeeper, now openly warm, brought forward rounds of a locally brewed drink, a gesture of communal hospitality. “To new friends!” He proclaimed. Other patrons took their own instruments and began playing with Kuşien. The songs were strange at first, since the Hazrun musical tradition is very different from those of the other races, but they adapted and played a beautiful blend of Sulcai, human, and Hazrun music. When they finished, Kuşien bowed to the audience, even if a bit awkwardly, and returned to her seat among us. She was trying to suppress a smile and it felt good to finally see her free from her worries and painful memories. Taokar then began an arm-wrestling competition and I could see the difference of strength that his race had. I glanced at Kunnebudo’s hands, who was making imaginary shapes on the table, and saw that her knuckles were hardened and calloused, probably from punching. Was she a martial artist?
We left in good spirits, though I noticed Kuşien's gloom had returned. Or was it focus? We were going to hunt a potentially dangerous creature so it was understandable. It would have been ideal for the moon to be full. It was instead waxing, which made visibility lower. The group divided in a formation designed to attack the creature from any direction. To the north and south, Kuşien and Manmurekan respectively, since they could both attack at a distance. To the west was Taokar and to the east, me and Kunnebudo. Through a punching and kicking performance earlier, they showed be Kunnebudo was indeed a martial artist. Since she was unarmed and was less resistant than Taokar, I would provide her assistance and healing.
I don't know how much time passed until a humanoid silhouette crawled into view. It appeared from among the trees, its gait cautious and unnerving. It was as if the thing was not a wild animal, but something else that possessed intelligence. It looked around and appeared to sniff the air the way its head bobbed. It slowly turned its head in my direction despite being dozens of paces away. Had it noticed me? I was sure I was well hidden. I looked at Kunnebudo, who was looking fixedly at our target, her lips parted without uttering a word. I turned to look at it again and it was gone. "South." She murmured. "Manmurekan tsu yonpe." While I struggled to translate the words other than south and our companion's name, Kunnebudo darted at an incredible speed southwards. As she sprinted through the grass, I scrambled to keep up. Up ahead, the faint glow of Manmurekan’s fire magic flickered like a beacon.
The creature, its form grotesquely humanoid, moved with an eerie intention that sent shivers down my spine. It advanced towards Manmurekan, who stood firm and ready, her flames crackling in her hands. Kuşien’s arrows whistled through the dark from the north. However, they found no mark. The creature’s agility was disconcerting. As Taokar approached from the west, his axe raised high, the creature shifted with a swift, mocking grace. When Kunnebudo and I finally reached Manmurekan’s side, the latter had already engaged. The creature lunged at her, slashing with its twisted claws. Manmurekan dodged a swipe, but not quickly enough. A second strike caught her across the shoulder, drawing four red lines across her porcelain-white skin. She winced but kept her stance, retaliating with a burst of flame. With the flash of light from her spell, I could now see the creature. Its discoloured, greyish-white skin revealed a myriad of dark veins and prominent bones underneath it. The limbs were long and gangly, even if they appeared to hold some strength, and ended in twisted fingers armed with claws. Its scalp had vestiges of white hair, its face eerily human-like, though lacking ears and nose. Its large round eyes had no pupils and seemed to emit a faint glow, while the mouth, too wide for the slightly elongated face, was unnervingly devoid of teeth.
Seeing Manmurekan wounded, I scrambled to her side. My hands glowed with a healing light, reaching out to touch the wounded area. The light enveloped her shoulder, and she gritted her teeth, a mix of pain and relief flashing across her face as the wound began to close. “Good,” she grunted, not sparing a glance at her healing flesh, her attention unwavering from the creature. “Remain close. Heal, no fight.” Kunnebudo danced around the creature, her strikes a series of rapid, precise blows that seemed to startle it. This distraction allowed Manmurekan to prepare another spell, her hands weaving hand seals and her fingers sparking with gathering energy. Suddenly, the creature turned its soulless gaze towards me. A cold dread filled me. I had only my healing, no offensive magic. I stepped back, tripping over a rock. I was no warrior, and the line between duty and survival blurred as the thing leapt at me. A well-placed arrow hit one of its eyes, spouting a foul-smelling dark ichor and sending the creature tumbling to the side. I could see Taokar still closing the distance between us, so it was up to either Kunnebudo or Manmurekan to finish it. The creature raised itself with its gaunt limbs, the arrow still in its eye socket. Kunnebudo delivered a strong kick on its elbow, the cracking of the bone echoing through the night. With a broken limb and one less eye, it would surely be easier to end this thing. It sumbled about as a few more arrows hit its back. Manmurekan's spell had finally charged and a lightning bolt came from her hands, electrocuting the creature. A stench of burning flesh rose as it laid on the ground, its skin darkened from the thunder magic.
The tension within the group palpably decreased. The night was quiet again, save for a faint sizzling noise coming from the smoldering form on the ground. Kuşien approached cautiously, her bow lowered, her steps tentative as if expecting the creature to rise once more. Taokar finally reached our side, his heavy breaths echoing in the stillness. He asked a question, to which Kuşien responded with "Ayi", meaning "yes" in Hazrunic, her voice carrying a harsh weariness. She surveyed the corpse with a critical eye. I felt an uneasy churn in my stomach as I looked at the creature. It’s human-like features distorted in death were unsettling. Kunnebudo placed a comforting hand on my shoulder, her own expression unreadable in the dim light. Some villagers, awakened by the commotion, emerged from their homes, lanterns and torches in hand, illuminating the scene. Their faces bore a mix of fear, relief, and curiosity. One of the village elders, an old man with a silver beard and wise eyes, approached us. His gaze fell on the creature, and his relief was palpable.
"Good", "Work", "Gratitude", and "Fear" were the words I could comprehend from Kuşien’s translation from Sendralese to Hazrunic. Gratitude was offered in the form of enough food and supplies for at least five days. Taokar eagerly tried to organise a celebration right there, but the elder insisted on a proper feast at daybreak. Our group agreed, both out of respect and fatigue from the night’s ordeal. As we walked back to the inn, the reality of what had occurred settled in. We had faced danger together and were victorious. This was not something I had expected when I had first joined with the Hazrun. That night, surrounded by the soft snores of my companions, I felt as if I was truly part of the group, even with the racial and linguistic barrier. 
As the sun rose, we gathered with the villagers in a humble but spirited celebration. The food was plentiful, the music vibrant, and the atmosphere filled with a genuine camaraderie. Villagers, once wary, now shared tables laden with local delicacies. The loud laughter of Taokar mingled with lutes and drums and the presence of a single area translator enabled us all to communicate (even if its effect affected a radius of only six paces). Kunnebudo led me through a dance, her movements as fluid as a winding river. Amid the noise of celebration, my attention was repeatedly drawn to Kuşien. Initially, she seemed enthralled, taking a break from her flute to appreciate the food and song of the different races of the Archbishopric united by the faith in Ma'at. However, as she noticed me laughing heartily with Kunnebudo and Taokar, her smile wavered and eventually broke. Silently, she slipped away from the gathering, her figure receding into the shadows at the edge of the village. Feeling concerned, I took the area translator by Manmurekan’s suggestion, then excused myself and followed the path Kuşien had taken, tracking her to the outskirts, where I found her perched on a fallen log, alone.

Notes
SULCAI
HEIGHT: 170CM (MALE), 160CM (FEMALE)
LIFESPAN: 140 YEARS
HAIR: BLUE, GREEN, WHITE. CAN BE CURLY, WAVY, OR STRAIGHT
EYES: GREEN, BLUE, GREY. PUPILS ARE WHITE INSTEAD OF BLACK
SKIN: PALE WITH GREENISH, BLUISH, AND GREYISH UNDERTONES
A RACE NATIVE TO YUANDI AND THE SECOND MOST NUMEROUS. THEY DESCEND FROM ANCIENT HUMANS FROM A LOST CONTINENT WHO MIGRATED TO NORTHERN YUANDI. UPON LANDING, THEY FOUND A REGION INHABITED BY NATURE SPIRITS, MORE COMMONLY CALLED FAIRIES. MODERN SULCAI DESCEND FROM THIS UNION OF ANCIENT HUMANS AND FAIRIES OF WATER (RIVERS, LAKES, AND THE SEA), WIND (BREEZES, GALES, AND CARDINAL WINDS), AND FLORA (FORESTS, GRASSLANDS, AND SWAMPS). APPROXIMATTELY 20-30% OF THEIR ANCESTRY DERIVES FROM FAIRIES. THE SULCAI, BEING “LESS MATERIAL” THAN OTHER RACES, WEIGH LESS THAN THEY APPEAR AND PROCESS TOXINS FASTER, MEANING THAT IT TAKES LESS TIME FOR THEM TO BE DRUNK OR POISONED. THE SULCAI ARE ALLIED TO THE HUMANS, HAVING GRANTED THEM THE CHIEN PENINSULA DURING THE THEOCLASM SINCE HUMANS TOO HAD GRANTED THEM A TERRITORY IN PECTUS. BEING THE FIRST FOREIGN POWER TO DISCOVER PECTUS, THEIR SOCIETY ENRICHED GREATLY WITH THEIR TRADING AND MERCANTILE TENDENCIES. THEY ARE THE GREATEST NAVAL POWER OF THE CONTINENT, THEIR SHIPMAKING SKILL A PARAGON ACROSS THE CONTINENT. THEY ARE KNOWN TO BE INDIRECT AND PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE, MUCH TO THE CHAGRIN OF OTHER CULTURES.
MAGIC AND MANA
SUPERNATURAL PHENOMENA THAT DEFY THE LAWS OF NATURE. IN HUMANOID SPECIES, MAGIC MANIFESTS AS MULTIPLE NODES OF “SUBTLE MATTER” (THAT IS, MATTER LESS PHYSICAL THAN COMMON MATTER) DISTRIBUTED THROUGHOUT THE BODY. MAGES HAVE AT LEAST TWO OF THOSE NODES UNBLOCKED: ONE FOR MANIPULATING PURE MANA AND OTHERS FOR ONE  (OR MORE) OF THE EIGHT BASES, THEM BEING FIRE, AIR, WATER, EARTH, THUNDER, DARK, LIGHT, AND SPACE. THERE IS A NINTH BASE ASSUMED TO BE LOST AMONG THE GENERAL POPULACE. MAGIC USERS NATURALLY PRODUCE MORE MANA AND ARE ABLE TO MANIPULATE IT, SHAPING IT AND IMBUING ATTRIBUTES FOR VARIOUS PURPOSES LIKE HEALING AND DESTRUCTION. THIS MANA NODE SYSTEM IS SIMILAR TO THE CIRCULATORY OR LYMPHATIC SYSTEM AND THE BASES A PERSON IS ABLE TO USE ARE DETERMINED HEREDITARILY, BEING PERMANENTLY ALTERABLE ONLY BY DIVINE INTERVENTION, THOUGH TEMPORARY MEANS ARE ALSO COMMON. AMONG MAGES, IT’S NORMAL TO DOMINATE UP TO THREE BASES, RARE TO DOMINATE FOUR OR MORE, AND INCREDIBLY RARE TO DOMINATE ALL EIGHT.

Chapter IV: Ucikor Kuşien (Sorrowful Star)
Approaching quietly, I overheard her murmuring to herself in Hazrunic, the lilting cadences of her speech marked by sighs of resignation. Though her words were incomprehensible due to the language barrier, their emotional weight was unmistakable. Taking a breath, I stepped forward, clearing my throat softly to announce my presence. Kuşien startled slightly, glancing up with welled-up eyes. Turning back to the underbrush, she plucked idly at the leaves, avoiding my gaze. “Sorry…” I started in her own language to hide the fact that I carried the area translator with me. She shook her head, emitting a brittle, dismissive laugh. “It’s nothing, Human,” she responded. “Just old memories stirred by...” She found herself unable to finish, her gaze settling on the ground. Sitting beside her on the log, I respected the space between us. She sighed, her eyes empty. “Seeing you there, laughing, sharing moments… it reminds me too much of him. You have his way, sometimes… it’s too much. Then it comes to my mind that he's not here anymore. But you are. And how can I have any peace of mind when Hadrian’s spitting image is travelling with me?”
Unseen by her, I pulled out the area translator I had kept hidden until that moment, unsure of whether I would need it. Now, as I discreetly fidgeted with it, her surprise was palpable when she finally noticed the artifact and I finally responded. “Kuşien, I understood everything you said.” I said softly, watching as a mix of shock, vulnerability, and finally, a reluctant relief crossed her features. “You should have told me.” She replied, her eyebrows furrowed. “I kept quiet because I thought you needed to speak freely, to vent a bit.” I explained. She tried to maintain eye contact but averted her eyes repeatedly. Kuşien nodded slowly, her demeanour still cautious, yet noticeably softening. “Thank you, Caelan,” she murmured, her previous coldness thawing slightly. “For listening.” We sat together for a while longer, the forest quiet around us. As we made our way back, approaching the edge of the festivities, Taokar caught sight of us returning together. His face split into a grin, and he couldn’t help but throw a teasing jab our way.
“And what were you two doing, sneaking off like that?” He bellowed, laughter rumbling in his throat. His question, meant in jest, hung awkwardly in the air as Kuşien’s smile instantly faltered. His obliviousness to her discomfort spurred him on before he suddenly added, “It was the same with Hadrian…” He trailed off, catching the sharp, icy stare Kuşien fixed on him. His voice dwindled into a tense silence. From beside us, Kunnebudo, who had been watching the exchange with a hint of confusion, chimed in. “Even I know not to stir those waters, Taokar." she said, slightly reproaching. Taokar, now realising his mistake, scratched the back of his head, his expression turning earnest as he tried to explain. “I just meant... Hadrian and I were good friends, that’s all. And it’s the same now with Caelan. We jest amongst ourselves as friends do, no harm meant.” Kuşien was still silent, her orange eyes unblinking. “Only friendly banter, truly,” he added, his voice softer, attempting to mend the gap his words had created. Kuşien’s expression softened slightly but remained guarded. She nodded slowly, signalling a cautious acceptance of his explanation, though the earlier warmth between us had cooled slightly. “I’m sorry." he murmured, his usual robust voice now quiet. He cast a quick, uncertain glance at Kuşien’s serious face before retreating back to the celebration’s heart, his large frame disappearing among the villagers. 
Kunnebudo, sensing the tension, gently took my arm and guided me away from the scene. “Let’s bring the translator back to the centre,” she suggested. “Everyone should be able to talk freely without thinking too much about the languages.” As we walked, the village lights danced in her bright eyes, reflecting a mix of concern and nostalgia. “Taokar always loved teasing Kuşien, even as kids. It’s his way, you know? But when Hadrian came to live with them, it was much the same for him at first.” Her voice took on a reflective note. “Taokar did not spare him either. But, you see, Hadrian had this charm, this patience, he soon turned those teasings into friendship.” She paused, letting the sounds of laughter and music from the celebration fill the space between her words. “Manmurekan and I are from different tribes. There was a time when their chieftain's daughter, Huzur, who is very forward-thinking, started a cultural interchange programme. She believed that sharing knowledge strengthens all tribes. Huzur was the one who invited Hadrian to settle with us.” Kunnebudo continued, her voice lowering almost into reverence. “She wanted him to share his knowledge with everyone. We were like his pupils, Kuşien, Manmurekan and I. He taught Kuşien how to use a bow. You should have seen her the first day, aim all awry. But Hadrian was patient, always guiding her hands until she mastered it. He taught her how to read and write in Sendralese. She developed under his guidance and they were always together.” Kunnebudo said, her tone filled with nostalgia. “That’s why it hit her hard when he... Passed." She paused, gauging my reaction. "It was sudden. He was stabbed in the back by mercenaries. And now, having someone around who reminds her so much of him, it’s like reopening a wound every time she sees you.”
What else could I say? Still taking me by the arm, she led me towards a central table, upon which I placed the area translator back. The meaningless chatter of the people around us became intelligible. "She needs some time, doesn't she?" I asked. "How long has it been since Hadrian parted?" Forcing her memory, Kunnebudo led a finger to her lips. "A little over a year, I believe." I remembered how devastated my father was when mother died. I have had two or three lovers in the past but none of them had their lives cut short, much less by such violent means. I can only imagine the feeling. Suddenly, Kunnebudo grabbed my hand. I became flustered and probably blushed as she brought it closer to her face and began examining it. "Such delicate fingernails you have. I had never noticed it before but our fingernails are different. See?" She showed me her hand and I indeed noticed a difference. The nails on her four-fingered hand were darker and thicker, definitely more resistant. As she grinned, I also noticed her canine teeth were sharper and slightly longer. How did I miss such details until now? Thinking about it well, our other companions also had these characteristics. Leave it to Kunnebudo to be so spontaneous and to change the subject so abruptly.
Kunnebudo’s golden eyes crinkled at the corners as she laughed again. As she stood close, her arm brushed mine, her fingers lingering just a moment longer than usual. It must have been an accidental brush since we were in a quite crowded place. “We’ve had our fill of rest and food, haven’t we?” Manmurekan’s voice broke through the villagers' noises as she approached. “It’s time to gather our belongings. I’ll fetch Kuşien and Taokar. We ought to regroup at the inn and prepare to leave before midday.” I nodded in agreement. Kunnebudo talked briefly with an elder, asking to borrow the area translator again so that we could plan our journey and quickly steered us towards the inn to start packing. The walk back was brief, filled with her lively chatter about the exotic foods (to her, at least) we had eaten. Once back, Kunnebudo and I started organizing our gear in the quiet of the inn, our companions temporarily absent. As we packed, Kunnebudo's tone shifted, her voice lowering slightly as she ventured into more personal territory. “You know, the Hazrun don’t look at relationships quite as your people do… We have only about a week or so each year when we can conceive, and only with our own kind.” She explained, her gaze thoughtful as she folded her clothing. “This has shaped our views quite liberally about casual relationships, which are less frowned upon.”
She paused a moment, her eyes lifting to meet mine, a curious tilt to her head. “I often wonder what else might be different between our races, appearance-wise… Although, Kuşien and Hadrian were a couple, weren’t they? It must not be all that significant.” The mention of Kuşien and Hadrian momentarily drew my thoughts away, pondering the details of relationships between different races and how such unions were perceived by different cultures. I nodded, somewhat absent-mindedly, as I packed my own bag. I had never seen a Hazrun's nude body, though I assumed they were similar, if not identical, to the other races. Humans, Renshi, Hazrun, Sulcai, Usagzok, Anglo-Elves, Elves, and Mustalf all have minor anatomical differences, though nothing so significant to prevent... Let's say, nature to take its course. Just then, the rest of our group entered the room, Manmurekan leading with haste, Kuşien’s eyes slightly downcast and Taokar’s usual energy filling the space. Kunnebudo’s demeanour shifted abruptly, her previous words seeming to hang awkwardly between us, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush as she turned her attention quickly back to her packing.
Kuşien glanced over, her expression unreadable, and Kunnebudo smiled quickly, a tight, polite curve of her lips that didn’t quite reach her eyes. The room filled with the sounds of the rustling of bags, each of us lost in our own thoughts as we prepared for the next leg of our journey. We then returned the area translator to a Sulcai village elder, who expressed his gratitude by presenting me with a letter sealed with wax, the seal's design being the crest of the Temple of Ma'at: three circles inside a pentagonal shape. “This letter is for you, human,” the elder explained while the translator's effect was still active. “Give to a priest so that your business gets priority.” Grateful for his generous offer, I slid it carefully into my pack. 
The group began to follow a lesser-known path shown only on an old map from the village as a shortcut to the main temple road. However, we encountered the remnants of a recent landslide blocking our way. Taokar cursed in Hazrunic, disappointment evident from his furrowed brows. Kunnebudo sighed, settling to the ground to unwrap some provisions, while Kuşien stood a bit farther off, her eyes scanning the horizon, perhaps looking for alternative paths we could take.
Manmurekan, however, remained undeterred by the obstacle. Retrieving a small vial from her pack, she held up a bluish liquid, which I assumed was a potion of some sort. She explains in simple Hazrunic words, “Fire combines with thunder to make great explosion. I need more magic, great energy waste.” I watched as she uncorked the vial with a pop, downing the potion in a single, swift gulp. Her hands began to move through a series of complex, flowing hand signs, which were but one of the ways of spellcasting. I had seen this form only a few times, since most Anglo-Elf mages used verbal incantations instead. With a final sharp gesture, a surge of energy burst from her palms. The explosion that followed was tremendous, echoing off the mountains with a roar that momentarily stunned us all. Rocks and debris were blasted aside, leaving a jagged, but passable, path through the landslide. Breathless and dizzy, Manmurekan staggered, her strength faltering. Instinctively, I moved closer, offering my shoulder for support. “Put me down on the ground slowly,” she instructed. This seemed like mana depletion sickness, caused, as its name implies, by a complete depletion of one's mana reservoir. The only symptom she lacked was the characteristic pallor made unnoticeable by her stark white skin.
Gently, I eased her onto the rough ground, where she reclined with shut eyes, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she regained her strength. Taokar stepped forward, his expression a blend of concern and respect, offering to carry her along the way, but she waves him off with a weary hand. “Just… a moment,” she murmured. The rest of us took this unexpected break as an invitation to rest and eat. We shared some of the food that would expire earlier, such as fresh fruit and pastries we received from the village. After a considerable amount of time, Manmurekan’s breath steadied, and her eyes flicked open with renewed vigour. “Let’s continue” she declared, pushing herself up.
Moving along the path created by the landslide, we walked quickly, conscious of the diminishing light. As we approached a ridge and the land opened up, the main temple of Ma’at and its surrounding city came into view, impressive and distant, lit by the last rays of the sun. The time spent clearing the landslide and waiting for Manmurekan’s recovery meant we’d lost precious daylight. Standing there, with the city so near yet still a considerable distance on foot, we faced a decision as the sun set. Without the area translator, their discussions in Hazrunic were hard for me to follow in full, but I understood enough. They were debating whether to press on by night or to set up camp without a fire to remain hidden. Looking towards me, Kuşien’s urgent voice cut through, “You know more about this nation. Will we be safe?” I shook my head, feeling a pang of guilt for never paying closer attention to my mother’s stories of her pilgrimages. I could only reply uncertainly, “I'm not sure.” That settled it. We decided to camp right there for the night without a fire to avoid attracting attention. Taokar immediately took charge of our safety, his large axe in hand, asserting, "Nothing will happen during my watch" with a convincing tone.

Notes
HYBRID BASES
CERTAIN MAGIC BASES CAN BE COMBINED TO CREATE A DIFFERENT ONE, OFTEN STRONGER AND REQUIRING MORE MANA TO USE. IN MANMUREKAN’S CASE, SHE COMBINED FIRE AND THUNDER TO CREATE EXPLOSION, THOUGH OTHER COMBINATIONS, SUCH AS EARTH AND WIND RESULTING IN DUST OR WATER AND FIRE RESULTING IN STEAM, ARE POSSIBLE. MAGES WITH SMALLER MANA RESERVOIRS OFTEN STICK TO COMMON ELEMENTS.
POTIONS
MANMUREKAN DRANK A POTION THAT TEMPORARILY INCREASED THE MANA IN HER SYSTEM, ENABLING HER TO CAST AN EXPLOSION SPELL. THERE ARE MANY POTIONS WITH DIFFERENT EFFECTS MADE FROM COMBINATIONS OF NATURAL, ARTIFICIAL, OR MAGICAL INGREDIENTS. THE COMMON POPULACE OFTEN USES POTIONS AND MEDICINE TO CURE SIMPLE DISEASES (COLD, FEVER, INSOMNIA ETC.) OR FOR MORE PERSONAL PURPOSES AS APHRODISIACS OR ENERGETIC DRINKS.
SPELLCASTING FORMS
THERE ARE DIFFERENT WAYS TO CAST SPELLS, MOST SERVING ONLY AS FOCI OR “PATHWAYS” FOR MANA TO BE MOLDED INTO SOMETHING USEFUL. THE MAIN ONES ARE GESTUAL (OR HAND SIGNS), VERBAL (OR INCANTATION), INSTRUMENTAL (OR ARTIFICIAL), PACTUAL, AND DIVINE. TALES ARE TOLD OF A LOST ‘TONAL’ CASTING TYPE THAT UTILISED SINGING OR MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS. EXPERIENT MAGES CAN PREDICT THE SPELL AN ENEMY IS ABOUT TO CAST JUST BY ANALYSING THEIR HAND SIGNS OR INCANTATIONS. INSTRUMENTAL MAGIC IS QUITE RARELY USED BY INDIVIDUALS DUE TO THE STEEP PRICE OF MAGICAL ARTEFACTS, THOUGH AMATEUR ENCHANTERS OFTEN SELL ITEMS WITH LIMITED USES TO THOSE INTERESTED. PACTUAL MAGIC COMES FROM MAKING DEALS WITH SUPERNATURAL ENTITIES AND DIVINE MAGIC FROM BEING “ENHANCED” BY A DEITY OR HAVING DIVINE ANCESTRY.

Chapter V: Vision/Fragments
We set up our sparse camp in a natural hollow, which gave us some cover from the wind and any prying eyes. While Kuşien and Kunnebudo arranged our sleeping rolls, I helped quietly, my thoughts nervously circling around potyential dangers lurking in the darkness. When I laid down and closed my eyes, I couldn't stop thinking about the few things I remembered from my mother's tales. She said we should be like Ma'at, who betrayed her own race and family to protect millions of people who owed nothing to her. I faintly remembered an illustration from a book she read to me and my sisters. An exotic looking girl, crimson-skinned and white-haired, held out her hands in front of a colossal pillar that stretched to the skies. This was probably a representation of her creating one of the Five Pillars. I couldn't help but fixate on the third eye on her forehead. Suddenly, she turned towards me, all eyes closed save for the third one, its sclera blue and its iris a pure white. Was I in control of my thoughts? Perhaps I drifted into sleep and was now dreaming. As she reached out to me, her arm slowly crumbled. Next was her entire head, with only one of the eyes remaining floating in place. It was eerie to look at that partial body. I noticed I was breathing heavily and was unable to move, symptoms I assumed to be of the so-called sleep paralysis.
A gentle hand then shook my shoulder and I could finally open my eyelids and return to the waking world. It was Manmurekan, who examined me with a mix of curiosity and distress. "Disturbed?" She said. "Bad sleep. No problem." I answered with my incomplete mastery of Hazrunic. Manmurekan giggled. "You had a 'towaimehe'. That means bad vision during sleep." I deduced that could only mean 'nightmare'. I sat up to look at the rest of the group. Taokar's bulky figure laid on an improvised mattress made of leaves, straw, and fabric on the ground, his limbs spread like a starfish. He was already sleeping, so I deduced I had slept for some hours and it was another person's shift. Manmurekan patted my back. "Sleep. You won't need to guard. Just be ready to heal when needed." Easier said than done. I lied down soon after, yet sleep eluded me. A mix of concern over my nightmare and anxiety due to being so close to fulfilling my promise prevented me from relaxing. Time crawled to a snail's pace as I waited for the sunrise. When the faintest light of dawn finally crept over the horizon, I awakened. As the light spread, the group stirred, and soon we were on our feet, packing our belongings. Today, my journey would either find its closure or prolong its purpose, and my heart raced with every step toward the grand temple city of Ma’at. Along the way, we encountered other pilgrims, each drawn by their own reasons to this sacred place.
At the city’s gates, I presented the letter from the village elder. The guards glanced over it, nodded, and led us to a registration booth where our names were recorded with no delay. Entering the city, we were struck by its grandeur. The temple of Ma’at tower tracks and the buildings around it were large and well-constructed, with the main temple visible at the city’s center, towering above everything else. The area was alive with activity; pilgrims prayed at shrines, and vendors sold food and religious items. However, our focus was on the massive temple ahead. Its doors were adorned with geometrical patterns and the symbol of her faith, three circles surrounded by a pentagon. "It is nearly time." Manmurekan noted. "The end of your duty to your mother." We advanced through the crowded streets, taking in the bustling activities around us. People from every race walked about, some in awe, obviously pilgrims, and others moving with purpose and used to the rhythm of the city, probably residents.
As we walked, we got closer to the vastness and architectural marvels of the main temple, a blend of sanctity and art. The structure’s spires reached skyward, and the intricate carvings illustrated Ma’at’s divine exploits. At the entrance, a priest greeted us, holding an area translator for convenience. He studied the village chief’s letter with a composed expression, nodding occasionally before addressing us. “Welcome, pilgrim Caelan,” he began, his voice serene yet authoritative. “You may enter. However, your companions, not being related to the ashes you carry, cannot join you beyond this point.” My companions exchanged uncertain glances but nodded in understanding. They murmured words of encouragement and good wishes before finding a place to wait among other pilgrims. The priest escorted me through enormous doors into the temple’s interior, where ethereal light filtered through stained glass windows, depicting various moments of Ma’at’s legend. As we proceeded, I noticed vivid imagery of a three-eyed girl with white hair and crimson skin, all her eyes serenely closed. This, I recognised, was a representation of Ma’at herself. Strangely similar to what I saw in my dream.
The priest began retelling her story as we walked deeper into the sacred halls. “Ma’at, once used as a tool by the Theoclasts, witnessed the devastation wrought upon the lands and defected, joining forces with the people of Yuandi. Her divine powers healed the land and erected the Five Pillars to maintain the Barrier. These acts solidified her place as a protector and healer deity revered by many.” Upon reaching a beautifully adorned chamber, the priest turned to me. “The village elder’s letter speaks highly of you and your companions. Your aid in dealing with the beast and healing those in need did not go unnoticed. For your service, I shall seek permission from higher authorities to allow you to witness the Holy Corpse of Ma’at herself.” Just as the priest finished, steps echoed from behind us. “There is no need to request a permit. I will guide him there.” Turning, I saw a Sulcai woman of ethereal beauty. Her long green hair cascaded over her pristine white robes, and her deep blue eyes held an almost magnetic familiarity. “As you wish, Archbishop Solène,” the priest said, bowing respectfully.
Archbishop Solène was the second highest authority of the Ma’at faith, so that's likely why I felt that she was familiar. Her presence here at this specific moment seemed somehow awfully convenient. “Follow me,” Solène instructed, her voice a mellow undertone of serene authority. As we navigated the temple’s labyrinthine passageways, it felt as though space itself distorted, the walls bending and swaying in almost psychedelic twists. This was some form of spatial or illusion magic to protect the Corpse, I reckoned. We stopped before an imposing, closed sarcophagus, majestically adorned and appearing as if it defied time itself. “Even in the afterlife,” Solène began, “the soul to whom those ashes belonged must feel overjoyed to be in Ma’at’s presence.”
I couldn't find the words. I'll admit I'm not a follower of the Ma'at faith but my eyes began to tear up. I could see Solène smiling softly. "Make no mistake, child. This occasion was preordained." I looked at her again, this time her face seemed more serious. "You saw visions in your dreams, didn't you?" She inquired. "Those about the Five Pillars and Ma'at disappearing?" I asked, deciding to not waste any time with minor details. She nodded solemnly. "Precisely. I am like you. You bear a fragment of Ma'at's essence. That is why you thought I looked familiar." I had heard of Ma'at's essence spreading or dissipating when she exhausted her divine powers after creating the Barrier and there indeed were some historical figures who accredited their successes to it. "So... What's the reason for you leading me here?" "To return to the Holy Corpse the fragment that you bear." Her ocean-blue eyes were unrelenting. "What will change if I lose the fragment?" I started. "I assume I won't die or change too much, correct?" Solène continued to stare, this time as if analysing me. "I feel it within you. Your... Affinity to light magic will very likely disappear." Which means I'd become useless if I were to return the fragment. I'm not strong, agile, intimidating, or intelligent enough to be useful. Healing is all I have!
"Fear not. Once all essences are united, Ma'at will reawaken. It will be a true rebirth of the goddess. Your fragment in particular is sizable, this is why I’m making such an outrageous request." I was still reluctant. Sensing my indecision, she continued: "As a demigoddess, the control of her divine half was imperfect, since she spent thousands of years imprisoned by the Theoclasts being used as a source of energy. Upon doing all she did for the people of Yuandi, her body and essence fractured. The fragments of her essence then randomly attached to thousands of other souls. You and I are among those." "How do you know all this?" I asked, skeptical and unconsciously ignoring her authority as the archbishop. Unexpectedly, she began unbuttoning the top of her robes. It was unthinkable that she was going to strip right before me, so I averted my eyes. "I understand your embarassment, but it's not what you think." I turned my head, seeing what looked like a blue light pulsing under the skin of her chest.
"That... W-why are you showing me..." I stuttered. "This is the Heart of Ma'at. A part of the Holy Corpse merged with me, giving me access to part of her memories." Solène explained. Just as Solène finished speaking, a quiet, grating sound filled the chamber. We both turned to witness the lid of the sarcophagus shifting slightly, a shadowy figure coming into view. Cloaked in a tattered hood, the intruder was completely wrapped in rags and bandages, giving the eerie appearance of an embalmed cadaver. Its hands were placed on the mummified Holy Corpse, a scene both jarring and blasphemous. Before we could react, the hooded figure, with a swift, almost preternatural motion, detached the arm and the head of the Holy Corpse. “Stop!” Solène shouted, her voice laced with desperation. But the thief paid no heed, clutching the sacred body parts and escaping as effortlessly as it had appeared. No barrier, no enchantment seemed to deter it, the spells designed to protect the Holy Corpse having no visible effect.
Solène stood aghast, her composure shattered. “It cannot be,” she muttered, grasping at the air as though she could pull the thief back. “To bypass such a powerful illusion spell…” Her eyes widened, trembling slightly. “A homunculus,” she whispered, more to herself than to me. “Only a being specifically created for immunity to illusions could accomplish this. I can't believe the Patriarch would let this possibility slip by.” Without missing another beat, Solène turned to me, urgency blazing in her eyes. “Caelan, I must act swiftly and I can't leave you here. Follow me!” She started back through the labyrinthine corridors, her steps echoing with urgency. As we emerged into the hall where the same priest stood waiting, his eyes widened and confused, she quickly briefed him about the situation and issued her commands crisply. “Spread the notice at once. Ensure the city gates are closed immediately. We must not allow the thief to escape.” Unused to such high stakes, I could only watch as a possibly historic event unfolded in front of me. Solène and the priest parted ways with haste, a turmoil forming as the alarm bells began to chime. Amidst the commotion, a small, spherical object on the ground caught my eye. It seemed almost inconspicuous, lying there in the chaos, but when I bent down to examine it, a chill ran down my spine.
The sphere was an eyeball, uncannily resembling the eye I’d seen in my dream: a blue sclera with a white iris. My breath caught in my throat, and I delicately wrapped it in a piece of cloth from my pocket, thinking, “I better hold on to that.” Intrigued and disturbed, I moved quickly, my mind racing with unanswered questions. Exiting the temple, I made my way back through the crowded streets to where my companions waited. Their expressions were a mixture of concern and curiosity, sensing immediately that something was amiss. I took a calming breath and started to brief them on what had transpired to my best knowledge of Hazrunic. "Ma'at's body was stolen. Arm and head run away." The city gates then clanged shut, sealing off any escape routes. Guards moved quickly among puzzled pilgrims, urging them to gather in designated open places such as squares and wide streets.
I could feel the tension in the air as we complied, making our way to a crowded square. The murmurs of confusion and concern from the assembled masses filled the air like a buzzing hive. Kuşien, keen-eyed as always, scanned our surroundings, her gaze landing on the guards searching through the belongings of others. I felt a cold sweat break out across my back. The Eye of Ma’at was still in my pocket, its presence gnawing at my insides. I couldn’t help but fidget as panic began to overtake me. What if they found it? What possible explanation could I offer? Kuşien’s sharp eyes darted towards me, her brow furrowing in concern. “Caelan,” she said softly in Hazrunic, “Are you alright?” I couldn’t bring myself to answer, my growing anxiety smothering any attempt at composure. I could feel the glances of my companions, each one a silent question of worry and confusion. A guard noticed my uneasiness and began walking towards us. My heart felt like a trapped bird beating against my ribcage. He was a stocky, grim-faced Renshi, and his gaze settled on me with a piercing scrutiny. As he got closer, he spoke aided by the area translator. “You, human. Come with me.” His tone brooked no argument.
I followed him reluctantly, casting a last, desperate look at my companions. “Wait here,” I managed to say, my voice shaking as I tried to put on a brave face for them. The guard led me to a temporary station set up for inspections. His eyes, still fixed intently on me, seemed to bore into my very soul. “I was informed that a human was nearby when the parts of the Holy Corpse were stolen,” he said, his voice as cold as the steel of his armour. “I… I didn’t...” My words caught in my throat, my mind racing. Before I could formulate a coherent response, he began searching my pack. He pulled out the contents, meticulously examining each item. A lump of dread rose in my throat. His inspection of my pack complete with no incriminating evidence found, the guard turned his attention to me, his gaze even more scrutinising. He reached into my pockets. My breath hitched as his hand closed around something small and spherical… but with a puzzled expression, he pulled out only a small, intricately carved wooden trinket I had bought from the village where we stayed the day before. Perhaps noticing my relief, he softened slightly. “It seems my suspicions were misplaced. Perhaps you’re tense because of the situation, not because you did something wrong. I’m sorry, pilgrim.” His apology was brief, but sincere, and he gestured for me to step aside as he called for my companions to be searched as well.
I joined the others, my mind still reeling. The Eye of Ma’at… where had it gone? What had happened back in the temple? As the guards finished with my companions and moved on, Taokar gave me a questioning look. “What happened? Your skin is as pale as Manmurekan’s.” I took a deep breath, gathering myself. “I had… the Eye of Ma’at in my pocket. Now it vanished.” Their faces reflected a mix of disbelief and concern. Kuşien’s eyes narrowed as she leaned closer, her voice a whisper. “Vanished? How?” “The guard couldn’t find it,” I replied, my voice barely above a murmur. “I don’t know.”
Hours passed, and the guards’ exhaustive search continued to yield nothing. The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the stone-paved streets of the temple city. I overheard snippets of conversation from the guards nearby, one of them muttering to another, “Still nothing to report. It’s like the thief vanished into thin air.” We had been corralled in the designated square all day, the atmosphere heavy with tension and murmurs of concerned pilgrims. My Hazrun companions spoke to each other in low tones, their language gradually becoming less alien to me. I felt a small sense of triumph amidst the chaos; I was beginning to understand their words more each day. Suddenly, a jolt of realisation hit me. My mother’s ashes! They were left unattended in the reliquary. Panic surged before a calm rationale settled in. They were already so close to Ma’at; surely, I had fulfilled my mother’s last wish beyond even her wildest hopes. I should later ask the Archbishop to take care of it. As I scanned the crowd, my eyes fell upon Solène. She stood some distance away but was unmistakably pointing in our direction. A group of guards quickly broke through the sea of pilgrims, making their way towards us.
“You and your companions are required inside the main temple,” one of them said, his tone leaving no room for argument. We followed them back to the temple’s imposing structure. The echoing hallways felt familiarly unsettling this time, leading me to wonder about the gravity of the situation awaiting us. The guards finally led us into a richly adorned chamber where Solène awaited, seated behind a large table littered with papers and letters. An area translator sat among them, flickering softly. Despite it being less than ten hours since I last saw her, Solène looked like she hadn’t slept in days. Her eyes were shadowed with exhaustion, her brow furrowed with stress. “There is nothing more we can do immediately,” Solène began, her voice tinged with frustration and despair. “We’ve sent out search parties across the continent, but catching the thief or their beneficiaries will be immensely challenging and time-consuming.” Suddenly, her gaze sharpened, fixing intensely on me. Leaning forward, she scrutinised my face as if she could see through me. Kuşien and Taokar tensed up, moving protectively closer, but she raised a hand to calm them as she sat back in her chair.

Notes
FRAGMENTS OF MA’AT 
SHARDS OF THE DEMIGODESS’ ESSENCE THAT SPREAD THROUGHOUT YUANDI ONCE HER POWER WAS EXHAUSTED. IT IS UNKNOWN HOW AND WHY, BUT THESE FRAGMENTS ATTACHED THEMSELVES TO A NUMBER OF SOULS. THE EFFECTS OF SUCH A BOND MAY VARY AND ARE OFTEN MINOR, SUCH AS UNLOCKING CAELAN’S LIGHT MAGIC AFFINITY. DEMONS AND OTHER SUPERNATURAL BEINGS MIGHT BE DRAWN TO SUCH INDIVIDUALS, STATING THAT THEIR LIFE FORCE “SMELLS GOOD”.
HOLY CORPSE OF MA’AT 
AS EXPLAINED BY SOLÈNE, MA’AT HAD AN INCOMPLETE MASTERY OVER HER DIVINE HALF, WHICH RESULTED IN HER ESSENCE FRAGMENTING AND HER CORPSE BEING PRESERVED AFTER DEATH. ENSHRINED WITHIN THE MAIN TEMPLE AND PROTECTED BY POWERFUL SITE-SPECIFIC ILLUSION MAGIC, THE CORPSE KEPT PART OF ITS POWER EVEN AFTER MA’AT’S PASSING. ITS PARTS CAN ONLY MERGE WITH COMPATIBLE INDIVIDUALS, THAT IS, PEOPLE WHO WERE BORN WITH ONE OF HER FRAGMENTS.
HOMUNCULUS
HUMANOID ARTIFICIAL LIFEFORMS FIRST CREATED BY ALCHEMISTS AND INSCRIPTORS FROM NEW MEDIETAS. A MORE ADVANCED FORM OF ARTIFICIAL LIFE SUPERIOR TO GOLEMS AND ANIMUNCULI, HOMUNCULI ARE SENTIENT CREATURES, OR SO IT’S SAID. THEY CAN BE MADE FOR DIFFERENT PURPOSES, SUCH AS HOUSE HELPERS, COMBATANTS, BODYGUARDS, ENTERTAINERS ETC. THEY ARE PEJORATIVELY CALLED “FLESH GOLEMS” BY LOWER-CLASS CITIZENS OF NEW MEDIETAS WHO FEEL THEY’RE LOSING IMPORTANCE IN FAVOUR OF HOMUNCULI, WHO NEED NO WAGES AND CAN WORK FOR FAR LONGER. DUE TO A YET INCOMPLETE MASTERY OVER CREATING INTELLIGENT LIFE, THE HOMUNCULI ARE “DEVOID OF COLOUR”, THAT IS, THEIR SKIN IS ALWAYS PALE, THEIR HAIR BLONDE OR PURE WHITE, AND THEIR EYES RED, PINK, OR PURPLE. CONSPIRACIONISTS SAY THAT HOMUNCULI HAVE INSCRIPTIONS THAT SUPPRESS THEIR CONSCIOUSNESSES, AND THERE ARE MANY ACCOUNTS OF SUCH PROGRAMMING FAILING AND HOMUNCULI SUDDENLY ACTING CONFUSED, AFRAID, OR EVEN FLEEING OR MURDERING THEIR OWNERS.

Chapter VI: Eye
“Now we’re even more alike, Caelan,” she said, her tone carrying an eerie certainty. “I can feel it within you. You have merged with the Eye of Ma’at.” The revelation hung in the air, leaving everyone stunned. I felt a mix of confusion and disbelief. “Merged?” I managed to stammer. The situation seemed even more dire now. But there was a glint of light in Solène’s eyes as an idea began to form. “This may actually be to our advantage,” she murmured, almost to herself before addressing the room. “Caelan, since you have merged with a part of the Holy Corpse, you may be able to sense the presence of other parts as I did now.” Knowing what she was implying, a tremor of realisation ran through me. “You mean, I can help find the rest?” “You can,” Solène affirmed, her voice resolute. “Though I suspect only from up close, unless someone uses the divine power of the Corpse.” The weight of it all settled on my shoulders. I had initially come here to fulfill a last request, but fate had drafted me into something far grander and more dangerous.
“Will you help us, Caelan?” Solène asked, her tired eyes pleading for my aid. I glanced at my companions, each one giving a nod of encouragement. "I don't think I have a choice. But I'm afraid someone might misuse the power of Ma'at, so I agree." Solène sighed in relief. I noticed a faint glow coming from her chest. Curious, I turned to Manmurekan, who stood by my side. “Can you see that glow from her chest?” I whispered. Manmurekan shook her head slowly. “No, Caelan. I have no mana sight, and even if I did, mana typically spreads throughout the body. It’s strange for it to concentrate in only one place.”
Solène nodded. “Indeed. What you’re seeing is the Heart of Ma’at within me. I can feel the Eye of Ma’at within you, as well as sense if someone bears one of the countless fragments of her essence. You might experience unexpected changes or see glimpses of Ma’at’s memories, particularly during sleep.” I felt a shiver run down my spine. “What kind of changes can I expect?” Solène’s expression softened. “I cannot say for sure. You are the fourth person to merge with a part of the Holy Corpse, and each experienced different effects. We’ll need to be vigilant.” “How were the parts returned?” I inquired. “The corresponding body part has to be physically removed,” Solène replied solemnly. “So eventually, you will have to return your eye to Ma’at.” The thought made my stomach churn. I glanced at Solène and realised that she, too, would lose her heart when the time came. With resolve, I then remembered the promise I had made to Manmurekan. “Before we start searching, we must visit Manmurekan’s village.”
Manmurekan’s eyes glistened with gratitude. “Thank you, Caelan.” Solène nodded approvingly. “Since you will be in Jirkaeriya, you can begin searching there. We have heard rumours of disturbances on the Black Pillar. The timing could not be more fortuitous.” As I absorbed this information, I realised I needed to contact my family, to let them know I wouldn’t be home for an indeterminate amount of time. “May I write a letter to my family?” I asked Solène. She agreed with a warm smile. “I will ensure it is delivered. Thank you for your willingness to help, Caelan. As a fellow ‘blessed one,’ I am counting on you.”
With a heavy heart, I penned a letter to my family, crafting a story to keep them from worrying. While I wrote, my companions conversed among themselves. I could hear Taokar’s deep voice murmuring with determination. “We have to support Caelan. Maybe he can even help end the war with Igirith.” Kuşien’s voice held a note of skepticism. “It’s not our concern. We should just stick to Solène’s orders. The Archbishopric has always been a neutral nation.” Taokar’s voice grew more intense, a touch of anger lacing his words. “Do you not wish for the war to end? Our village was razed by this conflict.” Kuşien fell silent, and I could see her clenching her fists. Taokar’s next words hit hard. “Remember, Kuşien. Hadrian was killed by Anglo-Elves.” Kuşien stuttered, her voice barely above a whisper. “I-I… leave that decision to Caelan.” With that, she excused herself and left the room hastily. Kunnebudo cast a sidelong glance at Taokar before following Kuşien wordlessly. I watched them leave, feeling a pang of sorrow for Kuşien’s unresolved grief. It was clear Kunnebudo went to comfort her. Turning back to my letter, I finished writing it and handed it over to Solène. “i’ll do what I can.”
As we left Solène’s office, the gravity of our new mission weighed heavily upon me. At the end of the grand hallway, I spotted Kuşien and Kunnebudo. Kunnebudo had an arm draped over her friend’s back, offering what comfort she could. Taokar briefly turned back to Manmurekan and me. “i’ll wait outside,” he stated simply before turning on his heel and disappearing down the hall, walking past Kunnebudo and Kuşien and apparently pretending to ignore them. Still within the translator’s range, Manmurekan’s voice broke the silence, carrying a hint of melancholy. “We may be childhood friends, but even we have our issues.” Her eyes bore into mine. “Taokar cares deeply about this war, no matter how boisterous he appears. His two older brothers and father were drafted two years ago and never returned. Now it’s just him and his sister, trying to keep their clan’s legacy alive.” I could feel the heaviness in her voice. She paused, gathering her thoughts. “As for me… Seeing my family again after so long, I don’t know how i’ll react. The hope is that i’ll have the strength to leave them once more and continue travelling with you all. That is, if the Death Runners haven’t already taken their souls.” I leaned in slightly, my voice gentle yet firm. “You don’t have to decide anything for now, Manmurekan. Your company has been invaluable, but I won’t press the issue." Our eyes met, and for the first time, I noticed subtle details about her; the delicate curve of her lips, the contrast between her jet-black hair and her pale, almost ghostly skin, the way her red eyes glimmered with strength... Realising I had stared too long, I coughed awkwardly and changed the subject. “What exactly are the Death Runners?”
"They are the servants of the Moon Goddess Naicin,” she explained, her eyes distant as if recalling a long-told tale. “They guide the souls of the deceased Hazrun to the moon at night.” I pondered this for a moment, finding it fascinating that the moon was their equivalent to our underworld. Manmurekan glanced back at Kuşien and Kunnebudo, who still huddled together at the end of the hall. “We must start somewhere.” She said with resolve. “After visiting my village, we should head to the capital. Huzur Tartsusime, the wife of the Soho, might be able to help us.” The name clicked in my memory, and I asked, “Wasn’t Huzur the daughter of the chieftain of Kuşien’s village?” Manmurekan nodded. “Yes. She's part of a distant provincial branch of the current ruling family. Tazkiairga Jadaera, the current Soho, chose her as his wife in a political maneuver to counterbalance the power of the more traditional and established clans when he was vying for leadership. Now that he is ill and bedridden, Huzur effectively governs the confederacy.” “So, she’s a powerful ally,” I concluded. “Indeed,” Manmurekan affirmed. “But she’s also someone we trust. Old ties can sometimes mean more than politics.”
As we approached Kuşien and Kunnebudo, the latter subtly gestured for us to pause, her hand raising in a faint but unmistakable sign. Her whispered words carried through the hallway, though they weren’t decipherable enough for me to catch every one of them. I did manage to piece together some terms. I presumed her message was something along the lines of “she should not see the human for now.” A pang of guilt hit me. I had thought Kuşien’s trauma was deep, but I clearly underestimated its extent. Turning to Manmurekan with a shared look of understanding, we made our way outside. Taokar leaned casually against a stone wall, his posture one of feigned indifference. Catching sight of us, he straightened. “Manmurekan...” Taokar began, but she cut him off with a gentle but firm hand on his shoulder. “You two need some time away. Walk around the city and clear your minds. We will wait for you in front of the temple.” He glanced at me, and despite the concern in his golden eyes, he nodded reluctantly. As we wandered through the twilit city, the atmosphere remained heavy with the apprehension of the recent theft. Wisps of conversation reached us from worried pilgrims and vigilant guards. The streets, while busy, seemed oddly silent. For a while, we walked in silence, Taokar’s usual demeanour replaced by a contemplative quiet. I felt the weight of his thoughts and decided to initiate a conversation, even with my limited Hazrunic.
“Is family important to your people?” I asked. Taokar gave a slight nod, his gaze fixed on the cobbled street. “My family… all warriors. Father and older brothers… gone. I am left.” He sighed deeply, the air escaping his lungs like the burden weighed heavily on his soul. “I wish I was firstborn, then I would have gone to war. Not be left behind…” “Do you… think they are still fighting?” I asked, my voice low, mindful of the potential grief in my question. “Dead or fighting still. I know not,” he replied. “Only my sister left. Married off to a man… north, away from the war.” Thinking about the war raised emotions in Taokar. His hands clenched into fists, knuckles white. “The Red-Hairs must pay for death! Greed! They want two pillars. The Red Pillar isn’t enough. They want the Black Pillar from us.” He seethed, his anger more pronounced than I had ever seen.
Understanding his rage, I sought a way to ease it. “War is a tragic thing. Perhaps Huzur… when we reach the capital… she can clarify,” I offered, my words hopeful yet uncertain. “We must find reasons for Anglo-Elf aggression. Reasons we do not know.” To my surprise, Taokar’s expression softened, and he chuckled, albeit mirthlessly. “You truly remind me of Hadrian. Optimistic… always looking for peace.” As we continued to walk through the twilight-draped city, I couldn’t help but reflect on the strange path my life had taken. If I had been born an Anglo-Elf like my foster family, I would never have encountered this group. This was a secret they could never know. My loyalty to Igirith was small, but my love for my family and my village was strong. They shouldn’t suffer for the kingdom’s mistakes. Taokar rekindled his smile and gave me a hearty pat on the back. “Enough walk, Caelan. Stars in sky now,” he said in Hazrunic, pointing upward. His finger traced the faintly glowing constellations that were beginning to appear. It was then I realized the word he used for ‘star’ was the same as Kuşien’s name.
We returned to the temple steps where Kuşien, Kunnebudo, and Manmurekan were sitting. Kuşien averted her gaze when she saw us approaching, while Taokar’s previous guilt resurfaced momentarily before he offered a nod in her direction. Seeking to lighten the mood, I pointed to the sky, saying in my hesitant Hazrunic, “I learnt that your name means ‘star’.” Her eyes flickered briefly up at me, her lips slightly curling into a smile, but she quickly looked away again. Kunnebudo chimed in. She pointed to a dark cloud overhead, mimicking the noise of thunder. “My name is ‘Black Cloud.’ I was born during a storm.” She explained, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. Her infectious energy drew everyone’s attention. Manmurekan and Taokar followed suit, both offering explanations for their names. Manmurekan pointed southwards. “My name, ‘South Wind.’ After a mythical guardian of the south.” She said, her voice a gentle breeze itself. Taokar, with a hint of pride, said, “My name means ‘Long Thread.’ My parents wished a long life for me.” His smile faltered momentarily, perhaps realising the significance of his name, but it returned quickly as they all turned to me, curiosity evident in their eyes.
“And you, Caelan?” Kunnebudo asked, her golden eyes shimmering with interest. “What's the meaning of yours?” I hesitated, feeling the weight of their expectant gazes. “I’m not sure,” I admitted. “I was named after an ancestor. My family never told me much about him.” A short silence followed. Kuşien, despite her earlier reluctance, finally let herself participate in the conversation. “Each name holds a story. Your ancestor’s story may be unknown to you, but you carry it.” She said quietly, almost as if speaking to herself. Kunnebudo suddenly seemed to remember something. She rummaged through her satchel and pulled out a badge with an elaborate crest featuring the pentagon and three spheres. “Solène sent this through a priest,” handing it to Manmurekan with an apologetic smile. “For shelter in temples when travelling. Solène apologised for not being able to help more.”
Manmurekan examined the badge, her expression softening into one of relief. “This will be useful tonight,” she said. “Since it’s already dark, we can use it to find a place to rest.” Nodding in agreement, we set off towards another temple closer to the city’s outskirts so that we could quickly leave once the sun rose. The earlier tension between Taokar and Kuşien lingered in the air, making the journey silent and somewhat heavy. We arrived at the smaller temple and presented the badge to an attendant, who quickly moved to make arrangements for our stay. He handed me a parchment and quill, clearly indicating that we should write our names. Observing my confusion, Kuşien gently took the quill from my hand. With swift, practiced movements, she wrote down all their names in the human alphabet before passing the parchment back to me. “Kuşien Ontzuwa, Manmurekan Mahyerebai, Kunnebudo Nooidukea, and Taokar Mirtahaunoz.” I read their full names in my mind, finding the Hazrun language both peculiar and fascinating. Then, I added my own name, 'Caelan Riáta' to the list before handing the document to the human clerk. He gestured for us to follow him.
The clerk led Taokar and me to a modest room, and the three women to another. Taokar flopped down onto one of the beds without bothering to change clothes or look through his pack, a weariness overtaking him. His head no sooner hit the pillow than he began snoring softly. I couldn’t help but smile at Taokar’s deep, immediate sleep. It was a comforting sound after such a tumultuous day, but it also made me slightly envious. I knew I would have trouble sleeping tonight. As I sorted through my items, laying out my clothes and gear, my mind whirled with thoughts of the day’s revelations and the path that lay ahead. I couldn’t shake the image of Solène standing in her office, the urgency in her eyes, or the unsettling, surreal dreamscape in which Ma’at had reached out to me. The weight of my responsibility settled onto my shoulders once more. As I finally laid down, I found myself staring up at the wooden beams of the ceiling, listening to Taokar’s steady breathing. I closed my eyes, knowing that sleep would eventually come, even if it was filled with more enigmatic visions.

Character Profiles
CAELAN RIÁTA
SPECIES: HUMAN (HOMO SAPIENS)
HAIR AND EYES: DARK BROWN (WAVY); LIGHT BROWN
HEIGHT: 176CM
BIRTH: UNKNOWN PLACE AND PRECISE DATE, 475 BA (23 YEARS OLD)
FAVOURITE FOOD: NOODLES WITH CHICKEN BROTH
LIKES: HEALING, LONG WALKS, SUPPORTING OTHERS
DISLIKES: IGNORANCE, BITTER FOOD, FEELING USELESS

KUŞIEN ONTZUWA
SPECIES: HAZRUN (HOMO BUCERIUS)
HAIR AND EYES: BLACK (WAVY); ORANGE
HEIGHT: 161CM
BIRTH: JIRKAERIYA CONFEDERACY, TWAJIDOM OF HAITAN. 6TH OF RISEMOON, 479 BA (19 YEARS OLD)
FAVOURITE FOOD: ROASTED SWEET POTATO
LIKES: HER FRIENDS, HUMAN CULTURE, ARCHERY, POTTERY
DISLIKES: WET CLOTHES, LIES

TAOKAR MIRTAHAUNOZ
SPECIES: HAZRUN (HOMO BUCERIUS)
HAIR AND EYES: WHITE (STRAIGHT); YELLOW
HEIGHT: 192CM
BIRTH: JIRKAERIYA CONFEDERACY, TWAJIDOM OF HAITAN. 17TH OF WINGEDMOON, 477 BA (21 YEARS OLD)
FAVOURITE FOOD: BOAR MEAT
LIKES: SPARRING, HUMOUR, HELPING OTHERS
DISLIKES: IGIRITH, PEOPLE WHO ARE TOO SERIOUS, GRYPHONS

MANMUREKAN MAHYEREBAI
SPECIES: HAZRUN (HOMO BUCERIUS)
HAIR AND EYES: BLACK (STRAIGHT); RED
HEIGHT: 159CM
BIRTH: JIRKAERIYA CONFEDERACY, TWAJIDOM OF AITZAJIRANPA. 9TH OF THAWMOON, 480 BA (18 YEARS OLD)
FAVOURITE FOOD: BROWN RICE WITH SOY SAUCE
LIKES: FOLKLORE, CALLIGRAPHY, RABBITS
DISLIKES: WASPS, HASTY JUDGEMENT, SECRECY

KUNNEBUDO NOOIDUKEA
SPECIES: HAZRUN (HOMO BUCERIUS)
HAIR AND EYES: GREY (WAVY); YELLOW
HEIGHT: 164CM
BIRTH: JIRKAERIYA CONFEDERACY, TWAJIDOM OF GEMIKEBEZ. 1ST OF STORMMOON, 476 BA (22 YEARS OLD)
FAVOURITE FOOD: OWUBUREGYAKI (A RED-SCALED FISH THAT CAN REACH 2M IN LENGTH)
LIKES: HUMOUR, TRINKETS, HELPLESS MEN
DISLIKES: LONELINESS, THE SMELL OF BURNT FOOD, COLD WEATHER

Chapter VII: Past
I found myself drifting into sleep, exhaustion finally overcoming my thoughts. As my consciousness wavered, the dreamscape took hold, and suddenly, it was not my own memories I was reliving. Through Ma’at’s eyes, I found myself, or rather her, submerged in a strange, viscous liquid inside what looked like a glass casket. The world outside was an enigma of glimmering lights and metallic structures, all unfamiliar to me. The liquid was cold, surrounding her with an uncomfortable pressure, and I felt various wires and pipes snaking around and into her body. Her crimson skin, slick from the liquid, seemed eerily unfamiliar. From beyond the glass and blurry from the liquid's turbidity, I could see humanoid figures, though I couldn't discern any details. Were they the dreaded Theoclasts? They maneuvered around silently, fingers flying over strange, flat, glowing panels. The room beyond the glass was filled with the hums and noises of unknown artefacts and equipment. Ma’at’s vision shifted downward, looking through her own confined body. The sight of wires and tubes piercing her flesh incited a visceral feeling of dread and helplessness. Panic settled in as the liquid pressed tightly against her, providing no space to squirm free. She desperately tried to move but found herself immobilised, suspended within the contraption. A sharp flash of pain surged through me—I mean Ma’at—as one of the figures adjusted something on the machinery. The overwhelming terror and physical strain were too intense for Ma’at, causing her to feel faint. Darkness rapidly closed in as her vision dimmed, fading out the mysterious scene around her.
The intense pressure lifted suddenly, and I awoke with a start, gasping for breath and drenched in cold sweat. I instinctively touched various parts of my own body, half-expecting to find the same wires and pipes piercing my skin. The surreal fragment of Ma’at’s past left a mark on me. The muffled snores of Taokar beside me felt like they were from another world entirely, distant and unsure. The remainder of the night I spent restlessly, turning and waking multiple times. The fragments of Ma’at’s memory continued to swirl in my mind. When the first rays of dawn infiltrated the room, I felt far from well-rested. Taokar, however, was still lost in slumber, his snores echoing in the otherwise quiet room. I decided to let him sleep a bit longer and made my way to the room where the three women were staying. I knocked on the door, and after a few moments, Kunnebudo’s voice called out, giving me permission to enter. Pushing the door open, I found her still lying on the bed, her hair mussed and the covers in disarray. Despite her messy appearance, she greeted me with a warm smile. “Good morning.” “Good morning, Kunnebudo. Where are Kuşien and Manmurekan?” I asked, glancing around the room to find no trace of them. She shrugged slightly, her sleep-weighted eyes blinking slowly. “No idea. They left before I woke up.”
Kunnebudo, ever observant, caught my evidently tired look. “Did you not rest well?” She asked with genuine concern. “No,” I admitted, realizing that my limited grasp of Hazrunic wasn’t enough to describe the memories I’d relived. I decided it would be best to talk about it only when we had an area translator. “And you? You seem well-rested.” She stretched languidly, causing the cover to slip slightly, revealing more of her skin than I expected to see, namely her legs and stomach. I averted my eyes, feeling my face flush. “It’s been a long time since I haven’t had to sleep on the ground.” Noticing my reaction, she chuckled softly at my discomfort. “You would not last a second in a Keiozhazrun village during summer,” she said with amusement. “We wear very little clothing then.” I shifted awkwardly, trying to keep my gaze respectfully averted. After a few more seconds that felt like an eternity, Kunnebudo asked, “When was the last time you were close with a woman?” My face surely turned an even deeper shade of red. “It’s been quite a long time,” I admitted reluctantly. “I see,” she said thoughtfully. “You must feel stressed. You would sleep better if you felt the warmth of somebody else. You hornless ones cannot reproduce with us, so there's no need to worry.” “It’s more of a cultural concern, not a fear of pregnancy.” I replied.
She raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by my unease. “Hadrian wasn’t prude like you are,” she commented, making me question the differences between the upbringing of humans and if my Anglo-Elf foster family held stricter views. “That’s how my family raised me.” I replied. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I should check my pack to make sure everything's there." I awkwardly went back to my room and found Taokar still snoring softly. As I went through my belongings, my mind drifted back to the potential reactions of my companions if they discovered my true origin: the fact that I hailed from the enemy nation Igirith, despite not being an elf or an Anglo-Elf. It was a secret I would have to guard closely for now. I finished sorting my pack and decided to go downstairs in search of Kuşien and Manmurekan. The temple was quiet at this early hour, the only sounds being the distant murmur of priests and pilgrims beginning their day’s activities. Descending the stone steps, the air was cool and filled with the subtle scent of incense. As I entered the main hall, I caught sight of Kuşien engaged in conversation with the human clerk from last night. Nearby, Manmurekan busied herself scribbling on a piece of paper.
“Good morning.” Kuşien glanced up, offering a brief nod before resuming her conversation with the clerk, their voices low. Manmurekan looked up from her work and gave me a quick smile. “Morning, Caelan. We’re gathering information about the best way to my village. The roads to take, paths to avoid, where other temples are located…” Her tone was efficient, focused. “Is it far?” I asked. “Not as far as we expected.” Manmurekan replied. “The Damohazrun lands directly border the Archbishopric, though the path is mountainous and not easy to traverse.” She paused, studying my face with concern. “You don’t look too good, Caelan.” Realising I couldn’t hide my weariness, I nodded. “I had another nightmare. Not exactly that, but the words of your language elude me. We shall talk about it when we find an area translator.” Manmurekan’s gaze softened with understanding. “We’ll find one once everyone’s ready. For now, we need to finish preparing. Where are the other two?” “Taokar might still be sleeping. Kunnebudo had just woken up before I came here.”
Kuşien and the clerk concluded their conversation, and she turned toward us. “We have enough information to start our journey. Let’s go back upstairs and make sure we are all ready.” She spoke briskly, her expression a blend of impatience and focus. Her newly-obtained information gave us a clearer idea of the route we were to take, which made our departure feel all the more urgent. I let out a low sigh, mentally preparing myself for what lay ahead. Together, we made our way back upstairs. Taokar was still sprawled across his bed, snoring loudly. Kunnebudo had risen, though she wasn’t fully ready for the day. The conversation we had earlier still played in my mind, making the situation slightly awkward for me. Whether it lingered just as strongly in her thoughts, or if she was an excellent actor, I couldn’t tell. Manmurekan’s voice was authoritative yet gentle as she addressed Taokar. “Wake up, Taokar. We’re departing soon.” Groaning, he rolled onto his back before slowly sitting up, rubbing his eyes. “Yes, yes. I’m up now.” Kunnebudo noticed my entrance with a light smile framed by her sharp canines, although she didn’t comment on anything from earlier. I assisted Taokar in gathering his gear. As we finished packing, I occasionally glanced at Kunnebudo, wondering if any signs of our conversation would seep through her actions. I couldn’t gauge anything out of the ordinary. She was focused and efficient, treating our departure with the seriousness it deserved.
We left our rooms and traversed back into the main hall. As we moved toward the exit, the other patrons of the temple seemed somewhat distracted, their eyes shifting toward us occasionally, but more so toward priests who spoke in hushed tones. The theft of the Holy Corpse parts hadn’t been leaked to the public yet, but an air of unease lingered.
Passing through the city gates, the sounds of everyday life resumed around us in a somewhat muted tone. People mingled about, their actions betraying underlying anxiousness. At the sight of two Mustalf men and their horse wagon, it felt like a small victory. They were agreeable enough to give us a ride to Jirkaeriya. “We’re heading there to meet our caravan.” One of the Mustalf men explained. His name was Aldreon, his blue eyes glinting with both curiosity and guarded caution. His companion, Kaal, seemed more focused on the horses, giving them gentle pats and making sure they were well-settled. “Your Hazrunic is very good.” I remarked, my curiosity getting the better of me as we climbed onto the wagon. Aldreon cracked a smile. “We Mustalf wanderers need to speak several languages. We act as commerce intermediaries, even between warring nations like Jirkaeriya and Igirith.” Assuming he could speak my language, I switched to Anglo-Elven, “How’s the war situation these days?” Kaal looked up with a grave expression. “The Valaranalf are stubborn.” He said using the Mustalf term for elves, which literally meant 'Pyrite Elves' (i.e. 'Fool's Gold Elves') “They won’t negotiate for a peace treaty or even a simple truce.”
The atmosphere grew heavier as we journeyed forward, the tension from the war seeping into the newfound silence. The hours that followed were relatively quiet, the rhythmic swaying of the wagon providing an almost hypnotic lull. I found myself succumbing to the tranquil motion, my earlier restlessness giving way to exhaustion. Memories, or perhaps Ma’at’s memories, began to surface in my semi-conscious state. She was healing the wounds of a young Sulcai girl with green hair. Her vision seemed blurry, yet serene. The girl, her injuries mending under Ma’at’s gentle care, offered her a flower and a small piece of bread. “Eat!” She said with childlike enthusiasm. Instead of the bread, Ma’at took a bite from the flower, causing the little girl to laugh heartily, her innocence and joy palpable even in the vision. I awoke with a gentle, lingering smile, realising I had been leaning on Kuşien’s shoulder. Embarrassed, I quickly repositioned myself and apologised. Kuşien still didn’t meet my eyes, but her voice carried a hint of understanding. “It’s alright. You seemed very tired.” Across from us, Taokar watched with a half-smile, his earlier contemplative mood replaced with an amused glint. Kunnebudo was barely containing her laughter, her hand brushing her mouth to hide the smile breaking through.
Aldreon exchanged a few words with Taokar before turning back to me. His brow furrowed, a contemplative look crossing his face. “You know, human faces are so hard to distinguish… but you seem familiar somehow. Have we met before?” I nodded. “Perhaps. I travelled with a Mustalf caravan some time ago. Tethys and Elna were among them.” Kaal, still focused on the horses, let out a soft chuckle. “Ah, you're the healer. I knew I recognised you.” We shared a few more pleasantries as the wagon trudged along the rocky roads. Eventually, the familiar bustling sounds of a caravan camp reached our ears. As we rolled to a stop, familiar faces began to come into view. Elna spotted me first. Her red hair danced in the wind as she broke into a broad smile. Before I could even step off the wagon, she was upon me, enveloping me in a tight hug. “Caelan! I can’t believe you're back!” She exclaimed. I returned the hug with a warm smile. As we pulled apart, she ushered me towards a central tent. “You have to see Tethys. She’ll be thrilled!” Elna said, leading the way. As we entered the tent, Tethys looked up from a concoction she was working on. Her red eyes widened in surprise, and a smile spread across her face. “I didn’t expect to see you this far up north! What brings you here?” I introduced my Hazrun companions, who took in their surroundings with a mix of curiosity and caution. As they exchanged pleasantries, I caught up with Tethys and Elna, recounting my journey and our next destinations, careful not to mention anything about the Holy Corpse. Throughout our conversation, I couldn’t help but notice Kuşien standing a little apart, her gaze tightening each time Elna touched my arm or leaned in a bit too closely. Elna’s eyes twinkled with mischief as she asked, “So, Caelan, have you found someone yet?” Her voice was light, but there was a sincere curiosity behind her playful tone. Before I could respond, Tethys cut in, a wry smile on her face. “I could use your help gathering ingredients for a potion I’m working on. Are you up for it?” I nodded eagerly, grateful for the distraction, and followed Tethys, leaving the tense interaction behind. We ventured into a grove near the camp, discussing the differences between light and dark magic, sharing newfound knowledge and enjoying each other’s company.
Back at the camp, the Hazrun group interacted with the Mustalf. Many of them knew Hazrunic due to their frequent trade relations, and soon enough, animated conversations ensued. Taokar was seen charming a Mustalf woman with a booming laugh that echoed through the camp. At times, she shyly hid her face behind a curtain of blonde hair as he continued his light-hearted banter. As dusk settled, it became apparent that we would have to stay the night with the caravan. The hurry about reaching Manmurekan’s village was quietly set aside for the evening. We all felt we needed a break. The Mustalf set up a bonfire, and the night transformed into a small celebration, meant to welcome me back and entertain their Hazrun guests. The music began, lively and full of spirit. Elna danced her way through the camp, pulling me by the hand to join the festivities. Mustalf delicacies were passed around, each more exotic than the last. Manmurekan and Kunnebudo took up some skewered meat that was suspiciously red. I tried some myself but found the spice overwhelming, causing my face to flush and eyes to water. “Our species can’t feel spicy tastes.” Manmurekan explained with a laugh. “To us, it tastes the same as regular meat.” “Good to know." I said between gulps of water. A Mustalf man got into an accident during a sword dance, making an urgent call for a healer. Stepping up, I quickly cast a healing spell. The response was immediate and powerful, his wounds closing faster and more completely than I was used to. I blinked, realising my healing prowess had dramatically increased, surely due to Ma'at's influence. "What's that? Have you finally learnt higher level spells?" Tethys asked as I returned. I shrugged, not sure what to tell her. Touching her own chest, Elna asked: "Can your magic heal wounds of the heart?" Even if I had understood the intent behind the question, I spent some seconds thinking if light magic could indeed help people who have had heart attacks or heart failure. Elna raised an eyebrow as Tethys laughed at the interaction. Later, encouraged by the musical spirit of the celebration, someone called out to Kuşien, urging her to play the flute. She refused, her discomfort clear. Yet, as the insistence grew, she lashed out in frustration, her voice shaking. “No! I don’t want to! Can you not understand that?” She shouted, her sudden outburst stunning everyone into silence. A moment later, she seemed to realize her behaviour and muttered a quick apology before storming off.
I wanted to follow her, but before I could, Elna tugged at my arm, pulling me back towards the bonfire. “Come on, Caelan. Don’t let it ruin our night.” She led me to try more delicacies, urging me to join in the dances. Manmurekan and Kunnebudo focused on the festivities around them, enjoying the rare chance to indulge in some carefree revelry, though I could see them glancing with concern at the direction Kuşien went. I, too, was worried about her, but I know she occasionally needed some time alone. As the night wore on, songs and dances weaved stories of old. It was an odd but comforting thought, knowing how such moments could still exist even amidst a turbulent world. Even if I was not racially an Anglo-Elf, I was one culturally and noticed some similarities in the millennia-old stories told by the Mustalf. It caught my attention that some of their tragic stories mentioned unions between them and different races, and that the children of such unions were always born Mustalf. This was the opposite for elves, whose offspring with humans were always born with a more human appearance, no matter how many generations of 'cleansing' with more elven blood occurred. Still, in both cultures the theme of sorrowfully outliving their non-elven partners was prevalent. I pretended not to notice Elna staring at me. During one such story, she approached me. "My mother was actually a human... It's not that uncommon for us to harbour other races, especially if they're useful." "I see." I replied briefly, noticing the lack of non-Mustalf in the caravan despite the new information. "Do you remember when Elder Yarkeva suggested that you should stay? We have no light mages in this caravan, and I think I..." We each felt a hand grabbing our shoulders from behind. It was Tethys, gracefully interrupting Elna once more. "Come on now, little one. If you linger too long, she's bound to tell you her true name." Elna said something in the Mustalf language, clearly irritated judging by her expression. Tethys replied in Anglo-Elven so that I could understand. "Have you not learnt anything from your father's situation? I'm not saying you should only go for other Mustalf, but I know your emotions can be a tad... Intense, let's say. Our human friend here clearly has a mission. Don't make things harder for him."
 After that, Elna seemed more withdrawn. Other women joined her, speaking in hushed tones about things I could only wonder. As the night went on and people left the fire for their tents, I felt weary and decided to head for the small tent they had prepared for me. Kunnebudo approached me, nudging my arm. "Quite cute that kunneauhe, isn't she? Is anything going to happen?" 'Kunne' meant 'dark, black' and 'auhe' was a transliteration of 'elf', the composite word clearly meaning 'Dark Elf'. "I wouldn't say so." She grinned, her prominent canines glinting under the moonlight. "We Keiozhazrun have a proverb. 'Yakosa amya nehurtuma airgakor sime'. You're not lonely, are you?" (the saying meant literally 'Loneliness can become a shining fang') I shook my head. "Not as long as I'm with your group." She chuckled and left, wishing me a good night. Later, for the first time in a few days, I slept without having visions or nightmares.
The next morning, we gathered our belongings, saying our farewells to our gracious hosts. The memory of the night’s joy contrasted with the tension that now settled over us. As I prepared to leave, I felt a gentle tug on my sleeve. It was Elna, her golden eyes looking at me with a mix of hope and sorrow. “Please, Caelan...” She began, her voice soft yet pleading. “Stay with us. Your journey might be perilous, and I can’t bear the thought of you being in danger.” I took a deep breath. “My path will be long and winding.” I replied, my tone gentle but firm. “Our lifespans are too different. You know that.” She looked down, her shoulders slumping with resignation. “I know. But… I can’t help it.” I placed a hand on her shoulder, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “I don’t even know if i’ll see this caravan again, or if i’ll make it alive. It’s better to let your feelings go, Elna.” She nodded, understanding the truth of my words. “I will wait for you.” She said quietly, her voice trembling. I shook my head, glancing back at my companions who were waiting for me. Kuşien had her back turned to us, her disposition impatient. Kunnebudo watched with amusement. “Don’t wait. Live your long life to the fullest with someone who can walk at the same pace. That’s the best thing you can do.” With a reluctant nod, she let me go, stepping back to join Tethys, who gave me a knowing look. We exchanged a few more farewells, and then we were on our way.

Notes
ELF
HEIGHT: 180CM (MALE AND FEMALE)
LIFESPAN: 200 YEARS
HAIR: WHITE, BLONDE, RED. CAN BE WAVY OR STRAIGHT
EYES: GREEN, BLUE, GOLDEN
SKIN: GOLDEN, BRONZE
A RACE NATIVE TO PECTUS THAT MIGRATED TO YUANDI DURING THE THEOCLASM. THEIR LONG LIFESPANS ENABLE THEM TO DEDICATE THEMSELVES TO PERFECTING THEIR SKILLS AND KNOWLEDGE FOR MORE TIME THAN OTHER RACES AND SPECIES, EARNING THEM A REPUTATION OF BEING SCHOLARS AND POWERFUL MAGES. THEIR GOLDEN AGE IS LONG PAST, HOWEVER. SHARING IGIRITH WITH THE MORE NUMEROUS HUMANS, MANY ELVES ENDED UP INTERBREEDING WITH THE SHORTER-LIVED RACE, CREATING HYBRIDS THAT LOOK ALMOST IDENTICAL TO HUMANS. THIS MADE MANY ELVES DEVELOP A PARANOIA AND A FEAR OF EXTINCTION THROUGH BEING OUTBRED. SINCE THEY ARE GRANTED NOBLE STATUS AT BIRTH AND THERE ARE ONLY A FEW THOUSAND ELVES LEFT, THEY ARE EXPECTED TO MARRY ONLY AMONGST THEMSELVES, A PRACTICE MOCKED BY OTHER RACES, WHO JOKE ABOUT ALL ELVES BEING RELATED. 
TRUE NAME
A MUSTALF PRACTICE THAT FORBIDS THEM FROM REVEALING THEIR TRUE NAMES TO ANYONE OTHER THAN CLOSE FAMILY MEMBERS (PARENTS, GRANDPARENTS, SIBLINGS, CHILDREN, GRANDCHILDREN) AND LIFE PARTNERS. AN INDIVIDUAL MUSTALF MAY BE KNOWN BY MANY NAMES IN DIFFERENT CIRCLES, BUT THEIR TRUE NAME MUST BE KEPT SECRET

Chapter VIII: Damo Azike (Mountain Tribe)
As we resumed our journey, I noticed Kuşien seemed even more distant than usual. She kept to herself, her eyes often focused on the horizon or lost in thought. It was clear that something was troubling her, but every attempt to engage her in conversation was met with brief, curt responses. The terrain grew harsher as we moved further into Hazrun territory. The landscape was rugged, with rocky outcroppings and steep inclines that tested our stamina. Despite the challenging path, we pressed on, driven by Manmurekan’s determination to reach her village. Our progress was halted when we encountered a group of Hazrun bandits. They emerged from behind boulders and trees, their swords drawn, spears and bows prepared, and expressions fierce. The leader, a tall, scarred Hazrun with three horns, stepped forward, his orange eyes narrowing as he looked us over. “Who are you, and what business do you have in these lands?” He demanded, his voice rough and commanding. Before we could respond, the bandit’s gaze landed on Manmurekan’s forehead tattoo. His eyes widened in recognition, and he quickly sheathed his long sword, bowing. “We beg your forgiveness.” He said, using the honorific pronoun 'wohare' instead of the informal 'wome'. “We did not know of your lineage.” Manmurekan stepped forward, her expression calm but authoritative. “We are merely passing through. Thank you for letting us go.” The bandit leader nodded, signalling his men to stand down. “You may pass. Safe travels, three-eyed one.” With that, they stepped aside, allowing us to continue. I felt relieved as we walked away, wondering about Manmurekan’s lineage.
 When we finally arrived at her village, her joy was palpable. She hurried ahead calling out names and was soon greeted by a group of women; her relatives, I assumed. They all bore the same forehead tattoo as Manmurekan, marking them as part of the same clan. They embraced her warmly, their voices filled with excitement and love. However, their expressions shifted when they noticed me. They spoke quietly, questioning Manmurekan about my presence. Though I could understand part of what they were saying despite their different Hazrunic dialect, I pretended to be oblivious, allowing Manmurekan to handle the situation. “Why have you brought a hornless one to our village?” One of the women asked, her intonation of ‘hornless person’ (Nuhazrun) feeling like a slur. Manmurekan’s response was firm: “He is a respected companion. Do not judge him for his lack of horns. There is more to him than you can see.” They exchanged uncertain glances but refrained from further questioning. This, I thought, must be a prejudice among the Hazrun, similar to how the Anglo-Elves viewed humans without elven blood. As we spent time in the village, Taokar expressed his relief at being among his kind again. We spent two or three days resting, preparing for the next leg of our mission.
As we explored the village proper, I took in the surroundings. The village was nestled in a lush valley surrounded by towering, craggy mountains. It had tall trees shielding the area and narrow streams cascading down from the peaks. The homes were constructed from stone and wood, blending seamlessly into the natural landscape. Cleverly engineered terraces (planted with what I assumed was rice) were dotted with small gardens that efficiently utilised the surrounding rugged terrain. The village square was modest and quiet, with a provincial air about it. Children played near the central fountain, their laughter echoing as elders chatted while sitting on stone benches. The place had an air of tranquility that was starkly contrasted against the turmoil and unrest we had known since beginning our journey. Manmurekan led us past various decorated huts, stopping occasionally to introduce us to friends and extended family members who rarely looked at me with no suspicion. We were then led to Manmurekan’s clan home, an impressive structure slightly elevated on a hill. As we entered, the scent of herbs and spices filled the air, mingling with the earthy smell of stone and wood. The walls were lined with shelves filled with items and amulets whose purposes were unknown to me. 
A large, intricately carved wooden table dominated the central room. It was soon filled with various dishes. The family insisted we sit and partake in the meal, their warmth contrasting with our earlier tension. Manmurekan’s grandmother, a wise and aged woman with a singular horn on her scalp and her silver hair neatly tied, looked at us thoughtfully. “Our Manmurekan has always sought new horizons.” She said, her voice soft but strong. “From a young age, she showed promise and wisdom beyond her years.” Manmurekan, clearly embarrassed by the attention, tried to deflect the praise. Her mother continued. “She went beyond our village to seek knowledge and strength to understand the world beyond these mountains. Once Lady Huzur announced her cultural interchange programme, Manmurekan was the first to volunteer.” Her grandmother spook up once more. "Our clan is numerous. We allowed her to relinquish her duty as a Cintsurun so that she could pursue her interests." She turned towards her granddaughter and continued. "Well, it's not like we could keep her here forever." The word 'Cintsurun' meant some priestly duty, I assumed, since 'cin' means deity, 'tsu' is the possessive particle, and 'run' is person. The rest of the conversation was difficult to track. The Hazrunic I was learning from my companions was... Different, as if it was a variation designed to be spoken and understood by everyone. This mountain village had a peculiar dialect and Manmurekan regularly ‘translated’ certain vocabulary for us. I noticed Taokar and Kunnebudo tilting their heads in confusion during the conversations as well.
“Listen, mister human...” A little girl, no older than nine and so similar to Manmurekan that I assumed she was her litle sister, asked. “Why are you hornless? Do the gods hate you?” I smiled nervously. “I can’t answer, child. It’s a mystery how we were created. Only the gods know.” Manmurekan shook her head and tried apologising. “Don’t take Mokuranekka’s words seriously. They don’t see many people of other races here.” “No offence taken. A human child would ask the same. ‘Why do you have horns?’” That’s an interesting cultural aspect of theirs. I even read on books that the Hazrun have a taboo against eating the flesh of horned animals and that the deer and the dragon are the most sacred creatures.
After the meal, we ventured out into the night, exploring the village further. Each corner seemed to tell a story, from the elder’s council chamber to the training grounds where the men practiced both armed and unarmed fighting. Manmurekan took us to a secluded spot where a stone altar stood beneath a large, ancient tree with twisting branches. “This is the altar of the 32nd child of Owuşiencin, the Sun Goddess, and Rekancin, the Wind God.” She explained. “A guardian deity who watches over our village. My ancestors made a pact with him and his earthly descendants. Most women of my clan can enter a trance and see beyond the veil of the material world, though I was never too good at it.” It was near this altar that Manmurekan shared more of her personal journey with us. She spoke of her youth, of training under the harsh guidance of clan elders, and of her pursuit of magic knowledge. “I wanted to be more than what my clan tradition had for me. To seek knowledge and bridge understanding with other lands.” She said, her voice filled with conviction. "And we're thankful you left this village." Kuşien said in appreciation. Taokar and Kunnebudo nodded solemnly. I observed their smiles as they warmly reminisced about their past together. 
We spent another day in the village, simply resting and preparing for the next stretch of our journey. Manmurekan left us during that period to spend time with her family. The next morning, as dawn crept over the mountains, it was time to leave. Manmurekan stood with her family one last time, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Her mother pulled her into a tight embrace, whispering words of encouragement and love, repeatedly reassuring her they would be well. Manmurekan reluctantly let go, her resolve steeling as she turned to us. “I am ready,” she said. "It's good to know the war hasn't yet reached the mountains." While we still had the momentum of our departure, we continued our journey. Our path took us through rugged terrain, which we traversed with difficulty until we left the mountains. Time passed quickly, and before we knew it, the sun dipped below the horizon, bathing the landscape in dusk. As night approached, we stumbled upon an abandoned village. Its silent, decayed houses casting long shadows that seemed to reach for us in the diminishing light. After scanning the area and concluding that it was safe, we decided to make camp there for the night.

Notes
HAZRUN TRIBES
EVEN BEFORE THEIR SUBJUGATION BY THE SHUN DYNASTY, THE HAZRUN HAD ANCIENT CULTURAL DIVISIONS, THE THREE MOST NUMEROUS BEING THE BERIHAZRUN (PLAINS HAZRUN), KEIOZHAZRUN (RIVER HAZRUN), AND DAMOHAZRUN (MOUNTAIN HAZRUN), WITH SEVERAL OTHER SMALLER TRIBES ALSO COMPOSING THE CONFEDERACY, SUCH AS THE KEBEZHAZRUN (LAKE HAZRUN), THE SINMUHAZRUN (FOREST HAZRUN), AND THE PENRURHAZRUN (SEA HAZRUN). THEIR NAMES DERIVE FROM THEIR ANCIENT SETTLEMENTS. THE UJINOHAZRUN (LOST HAZRUN) OR PAŞERHAZRUN (RETURNING HAZRUN) REJOINED THE FREE TRIBES AFTER REGAINING THEIR FREEDOM, ASSIMILATING TO THEIR CULTURES AND BRINGING ALONG SOME ELEMENTS OF RENSHI CULTURE.

Chapter IX: Hakagere tsu Isimiko (Our Secret)
Then came the division of tasks. Kunnebudo and I were assigned the job of finding wood. Taokar sought a reliable water source while Manmurekan would handle lighting the fire once we returned, and lastly, Kuşien would search for anything edible. Manmurekan gave me a quick lesson in fire magic, creating a small ball of flame that floated close to her. It seemed so effortless. “Focus on keeping it alight and close.” She explained. “Infuse it with just enough mana to sustain itself.” I emulated her spell, replicating her hand seals, replacing the ones corresponding to 'fire' with 'light' and trying to focus my light magic in the same way. A small luminous sphere appeared before me, but unlike Manmurekan’s flame, it was stationary. “It doesn’t move.” I said, a bit disheartened. Manmurekan’s red eyes examined the light sphere. “It’s still useful. Cast some of these around the house we’ll use.” Nodding, I did as instructed, placing magical orbs of light in strategic positions to illuminate our makeshift camp. Taokar returned with disappointing news. “The well is filled with mud.” He said with a grim face, giving up on finding drinkable water nearby. With this, I headed out to find wood, Kunnebudo having already left before me. I explored the deserted houses, collecting broken pieces of furniture. My eyes wandered over parts of the village, noticing signs of fire damage but seeing no skeletons or remains. I couldn’t help but wonder how long it had been since this settlement was last inhabited.
Returning with my arms full of broken furniture, I piled it inside the house’s central fire pit, where Kunnebudo’s pile already laid. Inside, Manmurekan and Kunnebudo had been busy, making the place more livable by clearing debris and arranging a rudimentary seating area. Taokar stood outside, scouting for any potential threats. I helped them tidy up the place further until it actually looked like a reasonable shelter. Soon after, Kuşien returned with a small bag in hand, her expression indicating that her foraging had not yielded much. “Kujanermocaro, reinajorbun, a couple of kwaroai, and some small roots. I found nothing else,” she reported. My eyebrows shot up. “We’re really going to eat that?” I said as I saw the bag filled with crickets, snails, and two frogs. Kuşien’s return look was almost challenging. “Are you saying you won’t?” I shrugged, trying not to show my apprehension. The animal names, I rationalised, were almost intuitive. 'Ku-janer-mocaro' meant 'small-jumping-bug', and 'Rein-ajor-bun' meant 'armour-slithering-thing'. They explained to me that 'Kwaro' was the noise the frogs made, thus 'Kwaroai' meant 'croaker'. Manmurekan lit the fire with a quick spell, the flames dancing and casting warm light around the abandoned home. Taokar found some more resistant wood and quickly shaped it into skewers using a small knife, piercing the ingredients and setting them by the fire to cook. I watched, partly fascinated and partly dreading.
Once everything was ready, they handed me a skewer first. They were looking at me expectantly. I took a deep breath and bit into a frog leg, which to my surprise, tasted quite good. However, the cricket and the snail were unpalatable. “The frog was tasty, but I can’t say the same for the cricket and snail. The tuber could need some seasoning.” Taokar took a hearty bite himself and nodded. “Crickets are better when fried.” Bemused by their culinary, I found myself joining in despite my initial reluctance. The sense of camaraderie dispelled any lingering concerns, and we all began to eat our strange meal, their casual chatter making the unusual supper feel less oppressive. After dinner a whole day of walking's exertion caught up to me. I settled in, the fire’s warmth and the effect of my spells scattering a comforting glow throughout the house. Once again, I slept soundly. No visions haunted me in my sleep, it was a welcome dreamless night. This, however, made me dread the next visions that were yet to come. The next day, just as the sun rose, I left for a secluded spot behind one of the houses on the outskirts to attend to nature's call. I looked all around me and, after reassuring myself I was alone, I let the impurities from my body flow away, so to speak. 
Just before I was about to finish, I heard humming, immediately interrupting the 'stream'. It came not from the left, the right, or from behind me, but from above. As I hurriedly fastened my trousers, I looked up to see Kunnebudo’s golden eyes gazing at me. It looked as if she was lying on the roof of the house. "Worry not." She said as she gracefully jumped down. "I won't bite." "How long were you looking?" I asked, feeling a mix of outrage and shame. "Just enough. That's not why I sought you, however." She approached slowly. "I needed you apart from the others because we need to talk about something." There was no way I could defend myself. In virtue of her speed and precision, I'd wager Kunnebudo was the deadliest of the group. I didn't feel any bloodlust coming from her. It was as if she was devoid of emotions, a true cold killer that makes her targets oblivious. "A little grey bird told me that..." She started. I felt my heart pounding wildly within my chest. "...You're from Igirith." My eyes widened, and I instinctively reached for the wall behind me. Before I could utter a word, Kunnebudo was already there, her breath brushing against my skin. In a blink, she closed the distance. Her left hand traced my neck with a sharp fingernail, menacingly pinning me against the wall with her right hand near my shoulder. Although she was a petite woman and shorter than me, I had never felt more threatened in my life. "W-who told..." I stammered, halted by her finger on my lips. "A little grey bird in the caravan, I said. But I'm not your enemy, this shall be our... Little secret, yes? I won't tell the others." She slowly withdrew, breaking the close contact between us. Panting, I felt my legs tremble. 
"I am not your enemy, Caelan. But who knows how Kuşien and Taokar would react to this information?" She approached again, this time cupping my ears and pulling my face closer to hers, though it didn't seem like she was going for a kiss. Once our foreheads touched, we both felt what I can only describe as an electric shock. My head recoiled backwards, hitting the wall behind me, while Kunnebudo, wincing from the pain, rubbed her forehead to soothe the pain. "Oww... Is that some trickery from that Eye?" "Erm... I don't know... But if you're not my enemy, why are you acting so menacingly?" Kunnebudo looked wide-eyed at me. "Wait... Say that again." It then dawned on me that I had spoken in Anglo-Elven, not in Hazrunic. I repeated the sentence as Kunnebudo scratched her head. "It seems you transferred knowledge to me, I think. Somehow... I mean only knowledge, not memories." She paced back and forth. "What if it went both ways?" Kunnebudo seemed excited. "i'll sing a song that you've never heard and let's see if you can understand it!" 
"Eiz keioz tsu naşa (In this river)
Gyakigere ripuna (Fish swim)
Tera-tera, oterez (Swaying, swaying, [they] went)
Hu tura se mitertsez ([They] showed a blue colour)
Eiz eri setan haka (At this place, I)
Sagwu tsuri tsu cenar (Wait during the rain)
Tera, nugata, akate (Swaying, shapeless, until)
Wome aşer coyake" (You come close)
Her singing was a bit different from the Hazrunic I was used to. It gave me the impression she was speaking in a dialect, of which I could understand each word, though the precise meaning of ‘swaying, shapeless’, and ‘showing a blue colour’ eluded me. Perhaps metaphors weren’t transmitted quite right. “It's as if I have spoken Hazrunic my whole life... How strange...” I then translated the lyrics to Anglo-Elven as Kunnebudo bounced in excitement, her cold killer eyes gone in an instant. Truly a spontaneous woman. "We shouldn't mention to the others that you now speak Anglo-Elven. How would we explain it? My origins, I mean." I said. "No worries, we'll just say you did some Eye magic and learnt Hazrunic all of a sudden. You won't be able to mask the Keiozhazrun dialect anyways, they're bound to see through it. As for my knowing of the enemy's language, that's another secret between us."
We returned to the group. Upon hearing the news, they seemed curious. "It's humorous... Now you speak in the same way as Kunnebudo. Even the inflections and tones." Manmurekan mused. I think they already expected the Eye of Ma'at to grant supernatural abilities. She then narrowed her eyes slightly, her curiosity mixed with a cautious undertone. “But it’s a bit too convenient, isn’t it?” She mused aloud. “The Eye of Ma’at suddenly grants you the ability to speak Hazrunic? Just like that?” Kuşien folded her arms, regarding me with a skeptical gaze. “Did anything unusual happen before you could understand us?” I exchanged a quick look with Kunnebudo, who nodded subtly, encouraging me to proceed. “Well, Kunnebudo and I… sort of accidentally bumped our foreheads together.” Kunnebudo quickly elaborated, her words spilling out in a hurried explanation. “We didn’t intend for anything strange to happen... It was a complete surprise!” Taokar raised an eyebrow, his expression turned dubious, clearly not buying the story immediately. “Foreheads? Really? Nothing else? What were you two doing?” Kunnebudo let out a nervous laugh, trying to ease the tension. “I was questioning him about the Eye’s powers and I guess the contact triggered some sort of… knowledge transfer?” The group fell silent for a moment, each member digesting the unexpected revelation. Manmurekan was the first to speak, her voice a blend of wary acceptance and intrigue. “It seems we’re all learning just how mysterious the eye of a goddess can be. Keep us informed of any other surprises.” Kuşien then added, “And try not to 'bump heads'" she began, emphasising the last two words "with anyone else. We’d prefer no more unexpected discoveries.” I nodded earnestly. “i’ll be careful. Honestly, I’m just as surprised as you all are.” This was certainly a convenient ability, but would I have to touch foreheads with anyone whose language I wished to speak? My head still hurt and I felt my vision a bit hazy. With our increased communication and my nerves calmer, the atmosphere was lighter as we left the village. Our path took us through a dense forest, with birds chirping their morning songs. The terrain was challenging, with thick undergrowth and uneven ground that tested our endurance. 

Notes
SPELLCASTING
CAELAN DESCRIBES HIMSELF CHANGING THE HAND SIGN OF ‘FIRE’ TO ‘LIGHT’. IN ACADEMIC CIRCLES, MAGIC IS  OFTEN DESCRIBED AS A SET OF INSTRUCTIONS TO REALITY, WITH EACH HAND SIGN OR INCANTATION WORD CORRESPONDING TO PART OF THE SPELL’S OVERALL EFFECT. A SIMPLE AND GENERIC FIRE PROJECTILE SPELL WOULD BE COMPOSED OF ‘FIRE’, ‘SPHERICAL’, ‘DAMAGING’, AND ‘FORWARD’ COMMANDS. THE MORE ELABORATE AND SPECIFIC THE SPELL, THE MORE COMMANDS IT REQUIRES. MAGES MAY BE POWERFUL, BUT WITHOUT PREPARATION TIME, THE ELEMENT OF SURPRISE, OR ALLIES THAT CAN DEFEND THEM, THEY CAN BE EASILY DEFEATED IF THE ENEMY IS FAST ENOUGH.

Chapter X: Cingere tsu Ucinariyeki (The Tragedy of the Gods)
We soon stumbled upon a neglected shrine, tucked away in a secluded glade. Vines had woven through its stone structure, and the carvings that adorned it were partially obscured by moss and the passage of time. Manmurekan stepped forward, examining the intricate carvings with interest. “It appears to be a shrine for a local deity.” She observed, tracing the carvings with her fingers. While we lingered, a deep voice echoed inside our minds, its tone a mix of relief and a sense of urgency. “Finally, someone has come. Why have the offerings and worshippers disappeared?” Confused, we exchanged glances, uncertain how to respond. “Who speaks to us?” Taokar asked cautiously, his eyes scanning the abandoned shrine. “I am Buretarcin, the deity of this land,” the voice replied. “The village to the east was meant to honour me and maintain my shrine, but I no longer hear anyone calling my name.” We shared the bad news. The village had been abandoned and lay largely in ruins. The deity seemed distressed. “I feared something had happened. One night, I heard a flood of prayers and invocations… and then silence.” Kuşien frowned, looking puzzled. “Why can't you leave this shrine?” She wondered aloud. I explained, calling upon knowledge my foster family once shared. “It’s due to the Polytheistic Treaty established by Ma’at. The gods agreed to reside within the Barrier, but only under certain conditions. They confined themselves to designated locations like this shrine to avoid capture or death at the hands of the Theoclasts.”
As if in response to our shared thoughts, the air shimmered in front of us. Ethereal images began to form, illustrating a grand tale the deity wished to share. Landscapes and celestial realms unfolded around us, full of vivid colors and profound detail. The images detailed the freedom gods once enjoyed, with each having their own domain beyond our world. The deity continued its narration, recounting how the Theoclasm changed everything. “Once, even we minor deities had our domains beyond this earthly realm. But when the major deity YHVH was captured after a defeat, and ALMF and NLTP went into hiding, fear gripped us all. We accepted Ma’at’s agreement to confine ourselves for protection from the Theoclasts.” We stood solemnly, processing the tale Buretarcin had just told us. It was then that a rustling noise echoed from within the shrine. A massive red dragon’s head emerged from the shadows of the shrine, its eyes filled with ancient knowledge. It sniffed the air before speaking, its voice a deep rumble. “I sense a sweet perfume. A scent reminiscent of an unknown deity… One among you bears a curious lineage.” The dragon’s head withdrew into the shrine as swiftly as it had appeared, leaving us to ponder its words. Did it feel the presence of the Eye of Ma'at within me? Buretarcin, now filled with amusement, encouraged us to convey its plight to the Soho, the ruler of Jirkaeriya. “Let the leader of this nation know of the plight of this deity and of the village. Though it may seem ironic,” it chuckled, “we deities must now rely on mortals, rather than the contrary.” My companions bowed in respect, with me doing the same shortly after. I didn't know the relationship between the Hazrun and their local deities, so I thought it better to mimic them.
As we walked away, finally leaving the wilderness to find a quite well-maintained road, Taokar inquired. "Who are ALMF and NLTP? I know of YHVH because Hadrian told me about him, but I never knew of the others." Manmurekan then remarked: "They are evil deities, aren't they? NLTP is the Goddess of Chaos and Insanity, if I remember well." "Yes, and ALMF was YHVH's sworn enemy. The Lord of Demons, the Emperor of Hell..." I began explaining. "He had many titles. I'm just glad we don't have to concern ourselves with them anymore. Before the Theoclasm, we lived in the Chaotic Age, named as such due to NLTP's awakening and the unbalance between order and chaos." "Why do we call them by those letters? Don't they have names?" Kunnebudo questioned. "Remember when Buretarcin said he could no longer hear his name being called? Even if NLTP and ALMF are missing, calling them by anything other than titles or tetragrammatons might have unexpected consequences." I clarified. Taokar smiled mischievously. "I dare you to say it. They're missing, who's to say they haven't been captured as well?" It was taboo in Anglo-Elf society to refer to deities by their names. Perhaps the human customs were different and they expected me to act accordingly, or was I overthinking it? "No, Taokar. We shouldn't risk it. NLTP and ALMF weren't bound by the Polytheistic Treaty and we don't know if they're in the Barrier."
As we continued along the road, the conversation from the shrine lingered in my mind, but Kunnebudo’s voice soon brought me back to the present. “Speaking of gods, Caelan, what about that nightmare you had when we were in the Archbishopric?” She asked, her golden eyes fixed on me with curiosity. I hesitated for a moment, then recounted the memories that had plagued me in my sleep. They listened intently. Kuşien, who had remained distant for most of our journey, now spoke up, her voice carrying a note of indignation. “Those aren’t the memories of a goddess; they sound more like those of a prisoner.” Manmurekan nodded thoughtfully, her gaze distant as if recalling a long-forgotten tale. “I once heard Hadrian sing a song about the Theoclasm. A weapon roaring and killing lights falling from the sky, a different world beyond our understanding.” I nodded slowly. “For us humans, it’s quite a distant memory, with almost 500 years having passed since the Theoclasm. But for elves, the tales could might be as recent as their grandparents' generation.” Taokar grumbled under his breath, the animosity clear in his voice. “Those long-lived bastards…” His sentiment about the war surfaced, a painful reminder of the ongoing conflict between our nations. Sensing the tension, Manmurekan deftly sought to shift the mood. “Caelan, have you ever seen artefacts from reverse-engineered Theoclast technology? I heard humans managed to get ahold of those during the Theoclasm.”
I shook my head. “No, i’ve never seen any of that technology. I lived far from the capital and major cities.” I paused, then added, “I did see a homunculus once, though. A wealthy merchant brought it to my village when negotiating a deal with cattle ranchers. It had a female form and long, silky white hair and red eyes. Its skin was somehow lighter than yours and Kuşien's. Yours seem to be white-coloured but her skin was colourless.” Kuşien seemed intrigued by this. “Hadrian once told me about homunculi. They lack colour because the art of creating organic life from nothing is imperfect. Only skilled alchemists can make them.” As I listened to Kuşien’s words, the thought of the supposed homunculus that had stolen the parts of the Holy Corpse crossed my mind. If it truly was a homunculus, then an alchemist, probably a human, was the culprit. I hope our journey never takes us to New Medietas. Its big cities are oppressive and smoke-filled from steam and coal, factories processing metal, and their strange rail-bound chariots. I wouldn't look out of place there, but the place would be wholly alien to me. As we made our way along the rugged path, our conversation slowly dwindled, giving way to the sounds of nature that surrounded us. However, our reflective silence was shattered by the distant rumble of explosions and the unmistakable crack of thunder magic, resounding ominously across the landscape.

Notes
POLYTHEISTIC TREATY 
HAVING INTIMATE KNOWLEDGE OF THEOCLAST TECHNOLOGY, MA’AT COUPLED IT WITH HER DIVINE POWERS, CREATING A BARRIER THAT HER KIN COULD NOT BREACH. THE DEITIES UNDERSTOOD THAT IF THEY WERE THE ONES CREATING A BARRIER, THE MYSTERIOUS THEOCLAST ARTEFACTS WOULD EASILY DISPEL IT, THUS THEY ACCEPTED THE CONDITIONS IMPOSED BY MA’AT. DESPITE BEING LIMITED TO CERTAIN LOCATIONS, THE GODS STILL ENJOY SOME FREEDOM WITHIN THEIR OWN DOMAINS, WHICH ARE MADE OF “BENT SPACE” AND ARE FAR LARGER THAN THEY APPEAR TO SOMEONE OUTSIDE.
YHVH
A POWERFUL DEITY THAT CHAMPIONED ORDER, PERHAPS TO THE DETRIMENT OF FREEDOM. HIS CULT WAS THE MOST WIDESPREAD IN PECTUS AND IS STILL POPULAR IN YUANDI DESPITE HIS DEFEAT. HIS FOLLOWERS, NOW UNDER THE LEADERSHIP OF ANGELS, BELIEVE HE WILL RISE AGAIN.
ALMF
A POWERFUL DEITY THAT CHAMPIONED FREEDOM TO THE DETRIMENT OF ORDER. HIS FOLLOWERS ARE SEEN AS DEGENERATE, DEPRAVED, OR EVEN EVIL. WITNESSING YHVH’S DEMISE, ALMF DISAPPEARED, LEAVING HIS FOLLOWERS, BOTH MORTALS AND DEMONS, LEADERLESS. MOST DEMONS SOUGHT THE PROTECTION OF THE BARRIER AND, TRUE TO THEIR IMPULSES, MANY DISGUISE THEMSELVES AS FALSE DEITIES OR MYTHOLOGICAL CREATURES TO MISLEAD MORTALS.
NLTP
A POWERFUL DEITY THAT SLUMBERED FOR COUNTLESS CENTURIES BEFORE AWAKENING AND STARTING THE CHAOTIC AGE. WHEN SHE STOPPED ATTACKING PECTUS, MORTALS NOTICED SOMETHING WAS AMISS. SHE BECAME AWARE OF THE THEOCLASTS. IF EVEN THE GODDESS OF CHAOS HAD WITHDRAWED, THE OTHER GODS BECAME WARY, FACILITATING THEOCLAST SCHEMES IN PECTUS.

Chapter XI: A Healer’s Duty
Taokar’s head snapped up, eyes sharpening as he turned towards the source of the commotion. “Sounds like… battle,” he noted, an edge to his voice, his hand instinctively gripping his axe. A plume of dust rose in the distance. Heart pounding, we quickened our pace. As we departed from the road, a scene of recent battle lay before us. A Hazrun detachment victorious over a fallen band of Anglo-Elf soldiers. The Hazrun men moved about, tending to the wounded while others worked to secure newly captured prisoners. Tents were swiftly erected, forming a temporary camp amidst the aftermath of conflict. "This could be useful..." Kuşien suggested. "Why don't we use them to get to the nearest city? That is, if they're going towards one." Cautiously, we approached the men, Taokar striding confidently at the front of our group. His proud stance was met with nods of acknowledgment and respect from the Hazrun soldiers, though their gazes lingered with suspicion upon me, the lone human in the group. The suspicion diffused when they heard me speaking their language fluently. I humbly offered to heal their wounded, the tension dissolving slightly as they focused on my intent rather than my species. As we moved through the camp, Taokar enthusiastically offered his help to the soldiers in raising tents and rebuilding the fortifications, seeking any whispers of news about his family. Seeing him from afar and judging by his expressions, he found no information about them.
Kuşien and Manmurekan drifted to my side, joining in the healing efforts while Kunnebudo slipped away to gather information on the war’s progress and the distance to the nearest city. As we worked, the expressions of the Anglo-Elf prisoners caught my attention. A mixture of both defiance and defeat, their dignity battered but not yet broken. Despite my companions’ cautionary glances, I tended to the wounds of the prisoners as well. This drew attention and whispers of disapproval from the ranks, my actions met with furrowed brows and sceptical eyes. Amidst the murmurs voices, the commander of the Hazrun forces approached. His presence was striking: branching horns crowned his head, reminiscent of a great stag, denoting his status as a member of the Adarkahazrun caste. I remembered the twisted illustrations of fanged, hunched-over figures with deer horns that seemed like Igirith propaganda in retrospect. His red-eyed gaze was steady and penetrating, filled with the wisdom of battle and the weight of command. “Your compassion extends to both friend and foe. Commendable, though perhaps unexpected,” he observed, folding his arms thoughtfully within the wide sleeves of his robe. His skin was an ashy grey and his black hair was tied in a top knot. I averted my eyes respectfully. “Pain knows no allegiance. There is no use for a healer that refuses to heal. This is my only ability, and I will not deny it to any who suffer.”
He appeared satisfied with my response, a flicker of approval crossing his features. “It reminds us,” he announced, voice raised to ensure it carried across the camp, “of the virtues we aspire to, even in war.” As I returned to my work, Kunnebudo made her way back to us, her expression serious. “The nearest city is thirteen sopwerigata away,” she relayed. Seeing the confusion on my face, she translated, “It’s a decent distance, Caelan. Not too far, but not close either.” Time wore on, and eventually, the commander turned his attention back to our group. “Supplies are strained, but you are welcome to shares of bedrolls and tents tonight. We cannot spare more,” he stated with honesty borne of necessity. It would be good to sleep without having to look over our shoulders for once. Later, the atmosphere in the camp shifted, soldiers gathering in anticipation as a blindfolded, shackled, and gagged prisoner was brought forth. A request arrived quickly from the ranks for my healing services. As I drew closer, recognition struck me: his golden skin, white hair, and pointed ears were unmistakably elven. Curiosity piqued, I asked quietly, “Why all this for a single elf?” It seemed he was considered valuable, but the extent of his restraint suggested something extraordinary. The commander gestured towards the elf, his voice steady. “This one is a mage, adept in thunder, fire, and earth magic. We must bind him thoroughly to prevent incantations or hand seals. Though rare nowadays, elves born in the land of the red-haired are granted nobility by birth; he will serve as a valuable bargaining piece.”
Seeing an elf like that, bound and gagged, was a stark contrast to how they were portrayed in Igirith. A man of the noblest and most advanced race reduced to a beaten and scarred prisoner. Being a human, my family never forced me to participate in their rituals of ancestor worship, be it at home or in the Golden Necropolis, where the mummified remains of every single elf who came to Yuandi are kept. I pitied his condition, though judging by the sounds of battle we heard earlier, I could see he was a dangerous mage. With my hands suspended over his wounds, I cast healing spells, still not used to their current efficiency. The commander thanked me and left with the prisoners and some escorts, leaving me alone there among the soldiers, or so I thought. "Hello." I heard Kunnebudo's voice at an uncomfortable distance from my left ear. Startled, I recoiled, much to the amusement of the surrounding soldiers. She chuckled, covering her smile with her sleeve. "Still on edge, are you? No need for such a reaction, my friend." "What is it? Did you come just to give me a scare?" I questioned. At least for me, things between us two were no longer the same after the incident in the ruined village. "I came to inform you about the war. I already told our friends about it while you were here healing the..." She stopped herself from saying something, probably a slur for elves. "The golden one." Kunnebudo then proceeded to tell me that Igirith had finally caught wind of the Soho's health condition and were mobilising forces on the border, especially south of Tunweeri, Jirkaeriya's capital. Taking advantage of the fact that Huzur is not supported by all the Twaji (local rulers, similar to the concept of dukes and barons), Igirith wants to exploit Jirkaeriya's disunity. "We don't seem to have much time." Kunnebudo said gravely.
“We could try talking to the prisoners.” I suggested. “They might have information we could use.” Kunnebudo shook her head, considering my idea but ultimately dismissing it. “I already thought of that.” She replied. “It would be too suspicious for us to be seen around them at night, especially if we’re overheard speaking their language. It’s risky.” Resigned, I nodded, understanding the reality of the situation. “We’ll need to think of another way to gather information.” I said with determination. “Perhaps something will come to us along the way.” With a subtle nod, Kunnebudo led me through the camp to the tent we would share. We approached cautiously, seeing Manmurekan engaged in a stilted conversation with a soldier. Her posture suggested she was only entertaining his advances out of politeness. The tent itself was empty. “Where are Kuşien and Taokar?” I asked, casting a glance around, almost expecting them to appear from the shadows. “Kuşien vanished like always. And Taokar is mingling with the soldiers, which isn’t surprising given his clan. He fits right in.” Kunnebudo, sensing an opportunity, gently clasped Manmurekan’s arm, pulling her away from the man. “I’m sorry, but we must discuss our plans for tomorrow,” she said to the soldier, her words firm yet apologetic. The man looked crestfallen, his hopes dashed as he watched her go. Manmurekan shot Kunnebudo a thankful glance, a relieved smile playing at her lips. “Thanks for that. I think he’d have talked my ear off all night.” Kunnebudo shrugged. “It’s only natural for the soldiers to be like that. Their formations are almost all men.”
Manmurekan settled onto her makeshift bedroll, her eyes thoughtful as she spoke. “i’ve been thinking about what comes next once we’re in the capital. We can’t just approach Huzur at will. We’re commoners, and without any leverage, gaining access to someone of her stature would be nearly impossible.” Her expression was a mix of determination and concern, signaling her awareness of the challenges ahead. “However,” she continued, glancing at me, “the general seemed to commend your actions today. Perhaps we could request a letter of recommendation from him. It could open doors otherwise closed to us.” I pondered her suggestion, nodding thoughtfully. Before I could voice my agreement, Kuşien returned with a bowl of steaming soup in each hand. “Here,” she said, handing a bowl to Manmurekan and another to Kunnebudo. “It’s made with boar, rabbit, and some herbs found along the way.” Without another word, she turned and left to gather two more bowls. The aroma of the soup was comforting. As Manmurekan and Kunnebudo began tasting it, I felt a gentle nudge. Kunnebudo offered me a spoonful from her bowl. I took a taste, feeling the warmth spread, though the flavour felt diluted, perhaps from being stretched to serve so many. “It’s sort of watered down,” I remarked, swallowing quickly.
Manmurekan, taking a sip from her own bowl, turned her attention to us. “When did you two become so close that you’re sharing food like that?” Her teasing tone caught me off guard, and I felt my face heat up, words scrambling in my mind. “It’s not—we’re not—” I stammered, struggling to string together a coherent reply. They laughed, their mirth echoing lightly in the tent. Manmurekan waved a hand dismissively, still grinning. “Relax, Caelan. I’m only teasing you.” Her unexpected sense of humour eased the tension slightly, allowing me to breathe easier. It seemed even Manmurekan, with her composed air, could indulge in a bit of mischievous banter. Kuşien returned with the two remaining bowls. She handed one to me before settling down with hers, consuming her meal quietly. Kunnebudo broke the silence. "We were planning how to contact Huzur." Kuşien lifted up her gaze to pay attention. "We shall ask general Entasaraz to stamp a letter for us. We probably won't get directly to Huzur with only that, but I think any noble would do." So 'Entasaraz' was the general's name or surname. It appeared to mean 'wolf scream', though contextually, it would probably mean 'wolf's howl'. "I see..." She replied dryly. "We could get the general to recommend Hadrian instead of Caelan." I raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "But isn't he..." "Dead. I know." Kuşien resumed. "Huzur was a good friend of his. She's bound to prioritise it if my name and Hadrian’s are written on the paper." We began planning more details, including backup plans, such as appealing to the local temple of Ma'at using Solène's badge. Since we were in a military camp, we were unburdened by no longer having to keep watch this night. While Kuşien checked her arrows and Manmurekan read through some folded sheets of paper, I went to sleep.
Chapter XII: Haka se Şujanme (Trust Me)
As expected, I dreamt about the past lived by Ma'at. She floated over a desolate landscape, a scorched earth stretching endlessly, a bleak testament to the destructive power that had ravaged it. She inhaled deeply, summoning what remained of her strength, and released a swell of energy from deep within. Around her, life began to awaken: plants and trees surged forth from the barren soil, their green tendrils reclaiming space once lost. Rivers, dry and forgotten, filled with fresh, rushing water that began to carve new paths through the landscape. The oppressive fog that had smothered the land lifted, revealing a brilliant sky above. But as life returned to the land, Ma’at felt her own strength waning. The exertion was too great, and her vision blurred. She felt herself losing altitude, falling fell towards the ground, where waiting arms embraced her descent. A strong, muscular, green-skinned figure broke her fall—a member of the now-extinct Orc species from Pectus, his wide arms shielding her from harm. Nearby, a teenage Sulcai approached, her face etched with concern. Her appearance struck a familiar chord; the green-haired girl with deep blue eyes bore a striking resemblance to someone I knew... But that couldn't possibly be... This memory happened almost 500 years ago. Her unfocused vision caught the silhouette of an elf nearby, his hands moving gracefully as he chanted. His healing magic, though subtle, began to ease the strain within her. “I know not whether my magic is enough to heal a goddess.” The elf said with a hint of humility, brushing his long white hair aside. Ma’at managed a gentle smile, her voice resonating with an almost musical quality that seemed to soothe the very air around them. “Even the smallest actions are welcome. This world needs more healers.” There was a serenity in her words. "This is too much of a strain for you, Ma'at! Even though you're half goddess, don't you think making the Pillars was enough? Nature always finds a way, you didn't have to speed it up!" The worried teenage Sulcai girl said. "The elves, humans, and the Hazrun need more space to inhabit. The destruction caused by my kin was too much." Ma'at responded. The Orc began to speak. "Worry not, little Solène. Gods only die when slain or devoured by another deity. Lady Ma'at shall be reborn some day." Did I hear it right? He called the Sulcai girl Solène? But their lifespan isn't even close to 500 years, that could only be one of Solène’s ancestors. "I shall be one... One with the wind, the waters, and the soil." Ma'at declared while struggling to standing up. "In time, all under this Barrier shall bear a part of me. And when Montu-Sekhmet and the other Theoclasts come, Yuandi might have a chance."
I opened my eyes to see the sunlight filtered through the tent. This time, I awoke alone. Even Taokar had risen before me. I sat up, scratching my head over the memories I had relived. That Ma'at healed a part of Western Yuandi I already knew, but her companions were news to me. Especially the Sulcai girl who shared Solène’s name and appearance... Once back in the Archbishopric, I'd have some questions for her. I left the tent and the warm morning air hit my face. The voices of soldiers, muffled inside, now swirled around me in fragments of Hazrunic—once clear, now blurred at the edges. Each word I grasped felt distant, as though the fluency had retreated from my mind. Understanding it was no longer effortless; I had to focus, forcing the meaning to rise to the surface. Walking along the camp, I heard the men talking, their conversations barely intelligible. It confirmed what I suspected: the mastery I'd gained over their language was temporary. “Caelan!” Kuşien’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. I turned and saw her waving, her expression neutral as always. I made my way over, trying to arrange the words I’d need to explain what had just happened.
“Kunnebudo ye idzueri?” (Where is Kunnebudo?) I asked. I could see her reaction immediately, her brow furrowed. “You sound different,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “Just like before. Where is the dialect?” I gestured helplessly, trying to explain without sounding like I was losing my mind. “It’s… gone,” I muttered. “Vanished. I can’t explain, but… it’s like I’ve forgotten.” Her eyes narrowed slightly, and then she sighed. “Touch foreheads with me.” I froze. When it happened with Kunnebudo, the jolt that passed between us was… unnerving. If the same thing happened here—if Kuşien somehow tapped into my knowledge of Anglo-Elvish—it would be a complication I wasn’t ready to deal with. Still, I couldn’t say no. She was suspicious enough as it was. I asked again, quickly, “Where is Kunnebudo?” Kuşien crossed her arms, giving me a hard look. “Why do you keep avoiding this?” She asked. “You two have been acting strange. Are you hiding something from us?” “It’s not what you think,” I said, though I could hear how unconvincing I sounded. She shrugged. “It’s none of my concern if your relationship with her changed,” she said flatly. “But we’re a team. No secrets between us.” I felt a knot tighten in my chest. “You wouldn’t get it,” I muttered, clenching my fists. “I don’t even understand it myself.” She eyed me, her voice softer but still firm. “Secrets surface one day, Caelan. I thought you were trustworthy.” Her words stung, sharp and direct. I gritted my teeth. “If I reveal everything, will you truly understand without judgment?” She took a breath, her orange eyes searching mine. “I can try.”
Reluctantly, I leaned forward. Kuşien averted her eyes when our foreheads touched, and for a second, it was just the awkward connection between us. But then it hit. A jolt like electricity, just like before with Kunnebudo. We both recoiled in shock. “What now? What am I supposed to understand?” Kuşien asked, her voice sharper, tinged with frustration. I blinked, trying to gather my thoughts. If she couldn’t hear anyone speaking Anglo-Elvish, then she wouldn’t know the full truth. But after this, I couldn’t just keep hiding. I was walking a tightrope, and any wrong move would send me crashing down. “I… don’t know what to say,” I admitted. The words felt weak, inadequate. She shook her head. “I’ll wait for you to decide when to stop hiding. But don’t take too long. We need to be able to rely on each other.” She turned her back to me. I extended my arm, grabbing her shoulder. Still without turning, she asked with irritation: "What is it now?" "The knowledge you just passed to me... I also passed mine to you." "Is that so? I don't feel any different." She said, jerking her shoulder to remove my hand. "You now know my language. The one I grew up speaking with my family." I paused. She slowly turned her head, her ember-coloured eyes slightly widened in anticipation. "You speak some minority language, don't you...? I know Sendralese isn't the only one spoken in New Medietas." She sounded uncertain. "No, I'm not from New Medietas like most humans. In fact, I was raised by a different race."
Strong arms hit our backs in a friendly manner. Taokar came from our side, though I have no idea how we couldn't notice his large frame, so invested that we were on the conversation. "Good morning, Caelan! It seems Owuşiencin has blessed us with another sunny day!" We were both looking at Taokar, still stunned by the interruption. Kuşien had her lips parted and her stare blank, evidently struggling to shift her focus from our previous conversation. "Good morning." I answered. "You're in a good mood." He raised an eyebrow. "Huh... Your pitch sounds different. Now you're speaking just like people from my tribe." I turned to Kuşien, speaking in Anglo-Elvish so that Taokar couldn't understand. "We'll talk later." She blinked, confused as to why she could understand those completely foreign words. "Hm? What's that you're saying?" Taokar inquired. "Nothing interesting, it's just the name of a plant." Taokar laughed. "You should have something to eat, they're distributing gruel over there." He pointed to a more open area with no tents. Seizing the opportunity, I nodded to him with a smile and addressed Kuşien "Come along and tell me if you've learnt anything new. Kunnebudo gathered some information yesterday. Did she tell you about it?" I began walking while gently shoving her on the back, encouraging her to follow me.
"You said something using words I had never heard back there. You and Kunnebudo never told us that the exchange went both ways." She said, picking up the pace. I felt a knot in my throat. I must admit I was afraid of her reaction. She walked slightly faster than me, I could feel she was anxious. "So what's that other secret you're so afraid of telling? Out with it!" I gulped. "I am actually from Igirith... My whole adopted family is." She stopped walking before I could react, leaving me a couple of steps ahead of her. I looked at her face, her widened eyes unblinking and staring at nothingness, her lips parted. "You worm..." She muttered. "What were you thinking all this time?" My heart began to beat faster. Ready to run, I was anticipating a violent reaction, though I believe she could outrun me. At least her bow was elsewhere. "This sort of secret..." Kuşien said, closing the distance. "...is not important." I furrowed my eyebrows. "Eh? Then why do you sound angry?" "Because you thought I'd forsake you over that!" I was caught by surprise. She clasped her hands, interlocking her fingers, and continued. "We don't care about your species or the nation you were born in. Horned or hornless, you're one of us. As long as you don't support this war Igirith started, we are allies." Relief washed over me. Was her grudge against Igirith smaller than our group's bonds? I stood silent, not sure of what to say. "I might have my issues with your appearance. I only keep my distance because I don't know how to deal with your resemblance to Hadrian, but..." I nodded. "Don't worry, Kuşien. Just knowing that you consider me an equal is enough." She smiled sheepishly.
She accompanied me to the mess area where I ate a quite bland bowl of gruel. Slowly but surely, she shared more of her life with me, still guarded but less than before. I learnt that her mother was a potter and her father a hunter, that's why she had some survival skills. She recounted stories of her childhood and how Taokar was a troublemaker. She couldn't focus her gaze on me, always averting her eyes. "Even though he commended your actions, I doubt that the general will give you a recommendation. What will you do if he refuses?" She brought the question up. I finished my bowl and began to think. "We'll just have to go to the capital and figure it out there." Taking my answer in, Kuşien scanned the camp. "Manmurekan is back." She said, getting up from the table. "This batallion fed us and gave us shelter. We better not abuse their hospitality." Silently nodding in agreement, we went to our tent. I greeted Manmurekan and we began packing our belongings. Kunnebudo arrived shortly after but there was still no sight of Taokar. "He's from a warrior clan after all. Who knows? Perhaps he's sparring or taking care of his axe." Kunnebudo explained tentatively.
The sun was steadily climbing higher in the sky as we made our way to general Entasaraz’s tent, the sounds of the camp bustling around us like a busy hive. My companions and I knew that getting a recommendation from him would be an uphill battle, if not practically impossible. Still, it was a step we had to take if we hoped to make any headway towards meeting with the Urasoho. Approaching the general’s tent, we saw Entasaraz through the opening. He was intently studying a map with several of his advisors gathered around, their hands making small gestures as they discussed the complexities of the unfolding military campaign. Among them was a grey-haired, olive-skinned human, his age showing in the lines etched into his face. He neither looked nor carried himself like a soldier, perhaps he was a strategist or an emissary. The murmurs of strategic planning filled the air as one of the attendants, a Hazrun woman whose white hair was tied into a neat bun, leaned forward, whispering into Entasaraz’s ear. The general looked up, his visage stern as he studied us from where he stood. He stepped away from the strategic council, his eyes appraising us as he approached. “Young human,” he addressed, his voice carrying the weight of authority. “Your presence and actions here have been noteworthy, to say the least.” His gaze was unwavering, and I noted an underlying curiosity within his eyes, as though assessing something about me beyond the immediate request. “I offer my sincerest apologies for the interruption,” I began, keeping my tone respectful. “However, I wish to request a recommendation to speak with the Urasoho.” My heart pounded in my chest, knowing full well the improbability of my plea being granted, aware of the advisors, especially the olive-skinned human, observing the situation. Entasaraz’s discerning gaze travelled over me, assessing not just the words I spoke but what lay beneath them. “Despite your commendable morals and skills, young human, you must understand the position you place me in,” he said, his voice laced with an impenetrable undertone. “I cannot permit you or your companions to gain an audience with Lady Huzur, no matter the subject.” 
The heaviness of his words settled over me, bringing with it a bitter acceptance. I could not reveal our true purpose openly and there was a chance this human man could expose my secret by merely speaking with me, realising I didn’t know any languages from New Medietas. Realising it was fruitless to press the issue and potentially risk further complications, I offered a slight bow. “Understood, General Entasaraz. Thank you for your time.” With that, we excused ourselves and began taking our leave from the camp, the warmth of the sun following us. As we began leaving the camp,Taokar joined us from where he’d been previously engaged. He carried himself with the same boisterous energy, but his expression struck a balance between eagerness and contemplation. “What were you up to?” I asked, my curiosity stemming from the fresh bandages on his shoulder. “I tried asking about my family, but found no news,” Taokar admitted with a shrug. “Afterward, I threw myself into helping around the camp. Better to be occupied than to dwell on what’s missing, eh?” He flexed his arms, nodding toward the bandages. “Even joined in the training for a bit. Sparring helped clear my mind.” Manmurekan gave him a smile, patting his back in camaraderie. “It’s good to know your talents aren’t wasted,” she commented. “So, what’s our next course of action?”
Notes
JIRKAERIYA GOVERNMENT
BEING A CONFEDERACY, LOCAL RULERS (THE TWAJI), ENJOY A DEGREE OF FREEDOM, BUT PLEDGE ALLEGIANCE TO THE SOHO (MEANING “LEADER” IN HAZRUNIC). THE CURRENT SOHO, TAZKIAIRGA JADAERA, IS COMATOSE, AFFLICTED BY AN UNKNOWN ILLNESS. THIS LEAVES HIS WIFE HUZUR TARTSUSIME AS THE URASOHO (“URA” MEANING “WOMAN, FEMALE”) UNTIL TAZKIAIRGA PASSES AWAY, IS CURED, OR DEPOSED. THE LEADER OF THE CONFEDERACY MUST OBLIGATORILY BE OF THE ADARKAHAZRUN CASTE, WHO HAVE BRANCHING HORNS AND ARE SAID TO DESCEND FROM THE GODS.
ORCS
AN EXTINCT SPECIES NATIVE TO PECTUS. TALL, MUSCULAR, AND FIERCE, THE ORCS HAD A REPUTATION OF SAVAGES, BUT WERE OFTEN EMPLOYED AS MERCENARIES, GUARDS, AND MILITARY STRATEGISTS IN CONTRAST. TOGETHER WITH THE REPTILIAN ELMETIANS, THEY FOUNDED THE CONFEDERACY OF ELMETIA IN RESPONSE TO HUMAN AND ELVEN EXPANSION. A SMALL NUMBER OF THEM FLED TO YUANDI, THOUGH THEY ENDED UP DYING OUT DUE TO THEIR LOW NUMBERS. THEIR ORIGINS ARE UNCLEAR, WITH SOME THEORISING THEY WERE RELATED TO GOBLINS, TO ELVES, OR EVEN TO THE ANCIENT AND EXTINCT HORNED GOLOFN FROM NORTHERN PECTUS.

Interlude I: Rakkur (Smell)
“Umma, when is Manmurekan coming back?” Mokuranekka inquired innocently. Her mother sighed. “Perhaps soon, perhaps later... She is a busy woman, little one.” While her mother chopped carrots into bite-sized pieces on the table, Mokuranekka sat on the floor, mindlessly fidgeting with a small wooden replica of a dragon. “Couldn’t you have asked her to stay? I think that human is dangerous. He smells different.” Her mother chuckled. “Indeed his kind does. Your sister is already an adult. We respect her decision.” “No, I don’t mean human smell, umma. I’ve smelt it before.” Her mother eyed her dismissively, thinking her talks of smell were fruit of a child’s active imagination. “Take that basket for umma, will you? The incense is already lit on the altar, we must go before it burns out.” Mokuranekka grabbed the heavy basket by its handles, inspecting the cuts of meat within. It was a weekly ritual to provide offerings for Zurtsuhacin, the Heavenly Feather God.
Her mother stopped briefly to talk with a neighbour. Something about rain and roofs, she didn’t pay attention. A boy ran past them. Then three other children. She tugged on her mother’s sleeve. “Umma...” Her mother glanced down at her. “The incense...” “Ah, that’s right! Thank you, Mokuranekka.” Smiling, she turned towards their neighbour. “We’ll talk later. Tell your nephew about the roof, will you?” The elderly neighbour laughed softly. “Such a pious child you have.” She reached for Mokuranekka’s head and patted it, her hand resting lightly over her hair veil.
They reached the altar shortly after and began preparing the ritual. A small gridded iron platform was set over the incense. An assortment of vegetables and cuts of meat was set on it, the plumes of fragrant smoke coiling around the offerings. “Today is your turn to do it. Have you memorised the incantation?” Her mother asked. Mokuranekka nodded. She first touched her forehead, then clasped her hands together. “O feathered lord, may your majestic wings forever cast their protective...” She paused, struggling to remember the incantation. “...shadow over our bloodline and this village we inhabit. May the aromatic odours be carried by Dukeacin to your lofty habitation.” She took the ritual needle and pricked her finger, drawing small drops of blood that dripped on the offerings. “Bring forth your blessings, o child of the Sun and the Wind.”
“You’re getting better everyday, my little one. Our ancestors are smiling upon us.” Mokuranekka stood silent for some seconds. She felt it again, the familiar smell coming from the altar. It was similar to the human’s, though less ‘rough’, ‘purer’ somehow. “Hm? What’s wrong?” Her mother asked, caressing her pale cheek. “Nothing, umma.” Their red eyes met eachother. Mokuranekka sometimes seemed way too introspective for a child her age, just like Manmurekan back then. “You can play with your friends now. Just come before twilight.” Mokuranekka couldn’t hold her smile.  A whole day of priestly duties had taken its toll on her mind. Now, at least for a moment, she could run around without a care in the world like the other children.

Interlude II: Soho tsu Zayiga (A Leader’s Burden)
I stood by the dim light of early morning filtering through the narrow window, casting a pale glow over Tazkiairga's inert form. His branching horns, proof of his divine ancestry, seemed more like the dry branches of a dying tree. The healer's whispered incantations filled the room, each word lighting up the inscriptions circled around my husband's body. Yet, as the healer slowly shook his head, resignation weighed heavily upon my heart. “I’ve tried everything within my power, Lady Tartsusime.” He said softly, his expression a mixture of frustration and apology. “His illness is beyond what conventional means can touch. Perhaps only the intervention of a divine force might reach him.” “Thank you for your efforts. You may leave now.” I managed to reply, my voice calm, masking the uncertainty beneath. After a respectful nod, he departed, leaving Tazkiairga and me alone in the oppressive quiet. I approached the bed, feeling the emptiness in the room keenly. Though his presence filled the space, it was with a silence that spoke volumes of absence. My fingers traced the outline of my horns, my smooth, branchless horns, barely echoes of the Adarkahazrun caste my father belonged to, a characteristic I didn’t inherit. Just by this fact was I judged an inadequate leader by many.
“You've left me to lead our people alone,” I whispered to him. My heart ached with the desire to defy fate itself, to bring him back from this abyss. “Just you wait, Tazkiairga. I'll find a way to wake you up.” Drawing a breath, I withdrew from the solitude of his room, the weight of leadership my constant companion. Meeting me in the corridor were two advisors, their arms burdened with stacks of papers, voices rising with urgent details of our current situation. “The southern Twajidoms face encroachment," one began, his tone crisp with the sharp edge of tension. “The Igirith army advances steadily, and Haşarin’s blockade weakens morale.” I absorbed the information in silence, my mind already moving toward solutions. “My request for a wyvern squad?” I inquired, recalling my recent orders, noting the anxious way the second advisor searched through a mound of documents before confirming. “Yes, approved. I will send them to intercept,” he assured, nodding as if for his own affirmation. “Have them harass enemy ships on their way to the island.” I instructed, feeling the tug of responsibility pull tighter around me like a yoke. As I took the papers from their arms into my own, I offered a curt nod of thanks before making my way to the seclusion of my office. I could think better when I was alone.
The room bore the marks of a relentless campaign. A chaotic spread of papers across the desk and floor, a roadmap of strategy mapped out on walls peppered with pins and markers, unreadable to all but me. To my surprise, I found the room occupied, Nekkatura Haitan, the Twaji of Haitan, stood here, her gaze fixed on my map’s labyrinthine markings. Her back faced me, arms resting behind her nonchalantly, barely visible under a long curtain of hair as white as her skin. She turned her head sharply as I entered, a flicker of a smile breaking the delicate details of her youthful face as her red eyes gauged my reaction. “The door was open,” she explained, a hint of humour in her eyes. “I figured waiting was better than seeking you out in the labyrinth that is this palace.” I sat down on my chair. “State your purpose.” I declared dryly. Haitan took a hand to her chest in feigned outrage. “Is this how you treat your former superior?” Silently organising my papers, I waited for her next line. She was unfazed, continuing: “We began sending settlers to rebuild and inhabit your village. I thought you’d like to know about it.”
My gaze rose to meet hers. I think I was unable to mask my interest. “And I’ve confirmed your little friends are alive. The whole gang. Taokar, Kuşien, Kunnebudo, and Manmurekan seem to be travelling about. Only the gods know why, however.” She smirked and began pacing around the room. “As is your duty as Twaji.” I replied. “There must be something else, I know you wouldn’t seek me out for such an... Uninportant information.” Haitan smirked. She leaned on the desk, her hands like a cat’s claws securing its prey. “You can be the chieftain of the reconstructed village. I guarantee that you will live the rest of your life in peace.” I already knew her intentions, but let her continue. “But you must declare that the Soho’s condition is incurable and support me in the election that follows. As the Urasoho, your vote will be worth more than the rest.” I scoffed. “I understand your point of view, Haitan-Twaji. I am not a popular ruler and the war is taking its toll on our people. But be sure of it, Tazkiairga will wake up again. I won’t desist.” She retreated to the edge of the door. “Hmph, suit yourself, ‘Urasoho’.” She emphasised the last word. “I must admit, for a commoner, you’re doing a decent job. Keeping casualties to a minimum, fostering a relationship with New Medietas, supporting the Mustalf... Good luck until then. You’ll need it.” She left, the noise of her heels echoing through the hallway. I steeled myself, it was time to face the documents. Treaties, requests, approvals... It seemed that dragon attacks were becoming more common, a village to the east was reportedly destroyed by one.
Hours passed, subordinates entered and left my office, alternatively helping me or bringing more issues to solve. Needing a break, I asked an attendant to brew tea. I got up from the chair and stretched, I was tired of sitting down. I looked at the bow mounted on the wall, one of a pair handmade by my dear human friend, <PRESIDIO_ANONYMIZED_PERSON>. I ran my fingers through it, remembering the carefree days on my village after I suggested to my father that we should learn more from other cultures. I sighed and approached the window, looking at the setting sun and the pink-tinted sky. The crowd outside the palace scurried like ants. Among them, I recognised a silhouette... A tall man with curved horns. Taokar? At his side was a human male, though I couldn’t believe my eyes. I turned around, massaging my temples. “To much stress, is it? I’m even seeing hallucinations.” I sat back down. I attended his funeral, there’s no way that...
“Urasoho Tartsusime.” Duyaura, one of my attendants, called out while pushing the door open. “Here is your tea.” I stared at her for a few seconds. “Are you feeling well?” She inquired as she placed the cup on the desk. I looked at the swirling vapour rising from the hot liquid. “I need some rest. It’s nothing concerning.” She looked at me with uncertainty on her orange eyes. “It might seem obvious, but I suggest you should sleep, my lady.” I nodded, sipping on the tea. “Thank you for your concern. You may leave now.” She bowed down and quietly walked to the door. “Wait...” She stopped, turning around to meet my eyes, her hands clasped behind her back. “Yes, Urasoho?” “Tell Pyana to check the records and reports from the last two weeks. I want to know about any human that entered the capital.” She bowed down quietly and left. Perhaps my mind was playing tricks on me, perhaps it wasn’t... Either way, it was better to be sure. 
Chapter XIII: [Insert title]
“Such a convenient man you are, Caelan.” Manmurekan commented as we unloaded our belongings in the temple room we’d be occupying. “Fate itself seems to flow in your favour, even if it doesn’t appear so at first.” “All that over Solène’s badge granting us the right to shelter in temples of Ma’at?” I questioned, amused by her enthusiasm. Taokar chimed in: “Finding proper shelter was never easy for us, even in our own homeland. I’ve lost count of how many times we had to sleep under the moonlight.” They began reminiscing about the past, recounting stories of sleeping in caves, makeshift tents, of driving away wild animals and hearing strange sounds in the night... As they talked among themselves, I looked out a narrow window to observe the street outside again. The architecture was far different from what we had in Igirith. It had some inspiration from the Shun culture to the East, or so it seemed from the paintings of Shun buildings I had seen in the past. Certain buildings had protrusions on the roofs, as if the structures themselves were horned. Contrary to Manmurekan’s village, the structures here weren’t wholly made of stone.
As my companions continued to deliberate over their options — whether to bide our time for the head bishop’s return or approach another authority within the capital — my mind drifted to the vibrant streets beyond our narrow window. The sounds of the city filtered through, an eclectic mix of voices, laughter, and the distant clattering of carts on cobblestones, painting a lively picture of life here in Jirkaeriya. “Caelan! You’re not even listening, are you?” Manmurekan’s voice cut through my reverie, pulling me back into the present. I turned away from the window, realizing she was looking straight at me, her brow knit with concern and irritation. “Sorry,” I replied sheepishly, noting the faint traces of frustration in her tone. “I got lost in thought, that’s all.” My gaze flickered back to the bustling streets below, where Hazrun children dashed past each other, their laughter echoing like a soft melody. Here, the weight of war seemed less pressing. Perhaps I had let my own curiosity overshadow their concerns.
Kuşien crossed her arms, her stance radiating quiet frustration. “This isn’t just a casual visit. The head bishop of Tunweeri is our best chance of meeting with Huzur. We need to make a decision!” “Do we really want to wait two days? He could return, and there might be no audience left for us,” Taokar added, his voice heavy with impatience. A deep sigh escaped me as I regarded my companions. They were caught in an anxious loop, pondering the endless ‘what ifs’ while I remained locked in an unfamiliar land, curious about the faces and voices that populated it. For them, the threat of the war weighed heavier, far more immediate after the skirmish we had witnessed.
“We could commit a crime.” I suggested absentmindedly. “Perhaps camp at the gates of the palace.” “I assume you’re not speaking seriously.” Manmurekan commented. “Sneaking in at night. Wrapping a message on an arrow and shooting it through a window. Doing something so worthy of notice that even the Urasoho will want to meet us...” I continued. “Wait, the one with the arrow isn’t bad.” Kunnebudo spoke up. She looked at each one of us, our silence meaning that we were seriously considering the idea. “We just need to know the room she’ll be in an Kuşien can loose an arrow for us.”
“Someone walking around the palace with bow in hand can only be suspicious.” Kuşien objected. Manmurekan scratched her own chin, saying: “The solution might be far simpler than anything else we thought of. Huzur was from the same tribe as you two. I think you have but to ask the right person.” Taokar and Kuşien looked at eachother. Once again they brought up a past where I was not present, recounting situations that made it sound like they were more than acquaintances, but a bit less than friends. Kuşien was reluctant, saying that if someone’s name had to be brought up, it should be Taokar’s.
Kunnebudo leaned in, her obliviousness to the situation of days ago evident. “Huzur and Kuşien were rivals, one could say,” She whispered. “Kuşien was jealous of her. She spent so much time with Hadrian.” Ah, more Hadrian talk. I was getting tired of constantly being compared to him. Manmurekan pulled me back to the conversation with her words: “Maybe she still remembers how your handwriting looks like. You should write in our language and in Sendralese. This way she’ll surely know it’s you.” “Besides, I don’t really know how to write and read.” Taokar added with a hint of shame. 
“It seems there’s no escaping it... Very well, then. Someone come up with what to write while I prepare an arrow.” Kuşien took an arrow from her quiver and removed its tip with a small knife. The rest of the group discussed the contents of the message. We settled on ‘Dear Huzur Tartsusime, we need to contact you urgently. The Archbishopric requires your cooperation and may in turn help with the Black Pillar crisis. Signed, Taokar Mirtahaunoz and Kuşien Ontzuwa.’
She wrote it deftly with a grey feather and some of the ink they used for bodypainting. I couldn’t decipher the message upon reading it, which meant that the Eye only allowed me to understand spoken language. 
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