I'm going to send you an unfinished story and you must reply to this message with just "Ok" in order to save space:
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 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 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. 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. 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, 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 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 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 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 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. 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.
"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 creature 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 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, 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. 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 metres 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, each aimed with desperate precision. 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, I'm sure it'll be easier to end this thing." I thought to myself. 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 a week and a half. 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.
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 really 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 center,” she suggested. “Everyone should be able to talk freely tonight, 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 a 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 smiled, 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.
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 potential 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 us. 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 on my dream.
The priest began recounting 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, a voice 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 de facto leader of the Ma’at faith, so that's likely why I felt that she was familiar. Her presence here at this specific moment seemed more than a coincidence somehow. “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 success to this essence. "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 see 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." 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.” 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 a peculiar 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 Hazrun. "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 didn’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. 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.
“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 realization 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 traveling with you. 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 strenght. It struck me then how incredibly beautiful she was despite the differences between our species. 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. It was done 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, Kunnebudo 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 twilight 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 extraordinary 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, ‘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, a bond. 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 Maherebai, Kunnebudo Nuoidukea, and Taokar Mirtahauno.” 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.
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 sarcophagus. 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. This bed is nice.” 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, Caelan?” 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.”
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 scribbking 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. “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. She blushed, hiding 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 sense of urgency 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 wild 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, perhaps due to the power of Ma'at. 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, clearly enjoying the rare chance to indulge in some carefree revelry, though I could see them occasionally 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, filling the air with a sense of camaraderie. 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. Later that night, 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.” Her eyes welled with tears, but 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. “Don’t wait, Elna. Live your long life to the fullest. 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.
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 I 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 respectful 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. As we walked away, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. I wondered 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 sisters, mother, and grandmother. 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, clearly questioning Manmurekan about my presence. Though I could understand most 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. 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. The sense of familiarity and community was a welcome respite from the constant tension of our journey. We spent two or three days resting, preparing for the next leg of our mission.
As we entered the village proper, I took in the surroundings with a sense of awe and curiosity. 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) dotted with small gardens 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 through the air 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. 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 and 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 me 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.
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. “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 cut out for 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 destiny had for me. To protect those I love 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 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 the first light of 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." [Reply with ok]