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A pilgrimage to the Temple of Ma'at is all my late mother had asked me to do when she died. She told me to take her urn to the reliquary so that her ashes can at least 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 famous. A demigoddess who defected from the enemy, the Theoclasts, to help protect an entire continent. The Barrier is one of her great works and the Five Pillars maintain it around Yuandi.
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 entrusted to me her wish, which I stated before. 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. They 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 go. 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 I studied in passing. The language of the Anglo-Elves is much more similar to the language of the Weisslanders, humans from 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.
Two Mustalf females 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 and age half as fast as humans, 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 my father still needed my help. My mother's death took its toll on him. 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, since 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 leg muscles burnt from the physical exertion. All I could see around me were the road, the mountainside, and some unknown 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 needed food 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.
"Haka tsu myei ye Taokar." He said, pointing to himself. "Yus 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 there 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 like Kunnebudo’s, though slightly curved backwards. 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 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 knee. Berating her friend, Kuşien appeared opposed to this, but I insisted and touched her knee, casting a light healing spell.
The bruise 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 2 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 we 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 their memory 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. With Kuşien feigning sleep, or perhaps truly lost in her own thoughts, 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.
"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 the dream 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 beast troubling the village’s outskirts. “They say it’s been attacking our goats.” a concerned human villager told us through Kuşien's translations, the concern evident in his eyes. “No one’s been hurt yet, but… who knows how long until that changes?”
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, 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 on 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 day waned towards evening, 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, a sentiment echoed back warmly by all present. 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. Growing up, I had heard tales saying that a Hazrun man was stronger than two men of other races and that a woman was as strong as a man. 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? Is she a martial artist?