A small girl is running through the streets of a seemingly empty village. She opens her mouth to scream for someone, anyone, but nothing comes out. Tears begin streaming down her face falling onto the cold stone pathway as she continues to run.
"Run, run, why am I always running!?" she thinks to herself.
She is unable to stop, something is forcing her to run, a spell? No, it is more like a feeling mistaken for fear, but far worse. Along the path, she is bursting through door after door, home after home, only to find them empty. Some of them with plates and food on their tables, as if the people living there simply vanished. There one second and gone the next. She continues running as if it's the only thing she knows how to do.
As she approaches a turn in the stone path, the sky darkens, tears continue falling from her face like raindrops from the clouds. She makes the turn and spots someone several paces ahead of her, a small female figure facing the opposite direction. Relieved she quickens her pace coming within arm's length, but as she reaches out horror and darkness consume her. The figure turns to face the girl who had finally stopped running and meets her scarlet eyes with a cold deathly gaze.
"Why didn't you save anyone? Why are running and hiding the only things you're good at?" As the figure finishes her words she crumbles to ash before the girl's eyes. Instinctively, the girl continues doing what she has come to know best, run.
Maroka opens her eyes, staring upward at a dark sky as thunder echoes through the cold rainfall just outside Camig. Completely numb both physically and emotionally, she continues to stare into the storm wishing the rain could wash away her new nightmare. After several minutes she sits up, turning to look where her sister Caula had perished.
"Why?" She mumbles as the rain mixes with the tears running down her face, and she stands up only to fall back to her knees in a puddle. Thunder again echoes as Maroka tightly clenches her fists which are pressed into the muddied ground.
"Why?!" She yells from her hands and knees, desperate for answers she slams her fist into the mud reminiscent of Gildar bringing his hammer down onto an anvil. Moments felt like ages as she questioned everything she knew, and the events started to form a heartbreaking loop within her thoughts. As she slowly regains her senses and finds the courage to stand up, she takes several moments to stare up into the stormy sky.
"I guess it's back to the well." she thinks to herself as she retrieves the now empty pail after it was tossed aside during the encounter. The cold rain continues to fall but doesn't slow Maroka in the slightest as she returns to the well, and once again she fills the pail with water before heading back towards Camig. She makes her way through the gate and down the same path she took with her sister earlier that morning, the same path that they waved to the townspeople on. However, this walk was lonely with only the rain and thunder to accompany her. Approaching the forge where she spent most of her time she stopped to look at the signpost she had come to know and love.
"Wares Gildar'' the sign read, a joke made by Gildar's wife Eleayne as she was always asking "Where's Gildar" whenever he would sneak off to work on his craft. Even though Eleayne died when Caula and Maroka were only four years old the few memories she kept were full of happiness, and Maroka often thought of her whenever she gazed upon this sign. After spending a moment lost in thought, Maroka approached the door to the forge that was still ajar, she assumed from Gildar rushing out during the incident. As she entered she longed to hear the sound of clanging metal or the growl of Gildar's grizzled voice once more, but instead she was met with silence. Maroka made her way past the front counter and towards the back of the forge placing the pail of water on the workbench she had grabbed it from that morning. Glancing around the shop she spotted a blade that was still in the process of being crafted laying atop Gildar's anvil and shouted out "I got the water Old Man Gil." Tears again return to her eyes as she slumps down onto a nearby chair knowing there would be no reply.
"I know it's stupid, but I couldn't ignore the last thing he asked me to do," she thinks to herself as the tears ran down her cheeks. Collecting herself she stands up and makes her way towards the door to Gildar's personal room at the very back of the forge. The door had no handle and was made of a sleek black metal known as otylite, which is regarded as one of the world's most durable and magic-resistant materials.
"He would be so mad if he knew I could get in here without him," she thinks to herself as she recalls the time she heard Gildar open this door. It was a late night about a year ago, she was inside of a barrel in the forge hiding from Caula during a game of hide and seek when she overheard him say a phrase that caused it to open.
"She was so excited when I showed her this" Maroka thought to herself.
"Vilcie de O'lecht," she says out loud and the door begins to emit a slight hum before lowering rapidly into a groove on the ground.
The room seemed to come to life as enchanted torches that lined the outer walls ignited as she walked in, she had only been in this room a few times and the beauty of Gildar's favorite pieces never ceased to amaze her. Many fine suits of armor and large weaponry hung from the wall, and many others were on tables and workbenches that surrounded the room. She spent a moment admiring the equipment before she made her way to the workbench along the back wall knowing exactly what she wanted. On top of the workbench sat Glomynmayl a very finely crafted otylite mail shirt.
Glomynmayl was enchanted to feel weightless and fit its wearer perfectly, bending to their every movement causing virtually no sound. Otylite is very rarely used in the forging of armor as it is an extremely rare metal, most otylite found is either offered as tribute or moved more illicitly.
Maroka slips into the black mail shirt, the linked rings of metal shrinking soundlessly to her size from the enchantment. Moments later it fit snugly and granted her a slight sense of safety knowing it was crafted by Gildar, she did well not to get lost in the moment and continued to examine the surrounding equipment.
"The rest of this is too big and heavy," she thought to herself as she paced around the room. Suddenly the conversation with Caula at the well sprung into her mind, and she remembered that Gildar kept a few aurostones in the front of the shop as well as a few pieces of smaller equipment.
Aurostones are a type of stone no bigger than a pebble that can be charged to hold the power of a spell. Long ago magic covered the entire world in such high concentrations that it began to alter the environment itself. This was a time of great magical advancement and a time of great destruction caused by magic. These stones are said to have been formed during that magically unstable time.
Maroka leaves Gildar's room muttering the passphrase as she exits, causing the otylite door to rise from the floor and once again shut tightly. She makes her way back to the counter at the front of the shop and underneath she finds a square metal container about the size of a small notebook. Upon lifting the lid she sees five small green stones and thinks to herself "He said these would heal wounds quickly."
Several years ago Gildar had badly burnt himself while working late in the forge teaching Maroka and Caula, had it not been for the quick mind of Gildar and the merchant who had sold him the stones the prior day he would have lost his hand. Maroka remembers watching Gildar retrieve one of the stones from under the counter, closing his eyes with the stone in his uninjured hand. The stone crumbled to dust and quickly after the burn on Gildar's hand began to heal at a mind-numbing speed and within seconds no visible damage remained.
After the incident, Caula asked Gildar what he had done and Maroka very clearly remembers his answer. "Girls, there's magic that flows throughout this world." From that day forward Maroka was drawn to anything that had the slightest resemblance to magic.
She closes the container and places it on the countertop shifting her attention to a nearby table. Various pieces of leather gear and equipment were placed atop the table, among them Maroka finds a dark brown pair of leather pants which she replaces her still damp clothing with. She also found a black leather belt and backpack, the belt has two green pouches attached to it. She fastened the belt around her waist and put on the backpack starting to feel prepared. "I think that's everything that I can use," she says aloud while scanning over the forge's interior.
"Well, I guess I should take my boots too," she thinks to herself when she spots two pairs tucked into the corner of the room. The boots were made of tough black leather with a well-padded interior to protect the foot from any stray pieces of metal that may find their way to the floor in a busy forge, the extra padding makes them slightly heavier than average but well worth the protection. "He was so excited to give us these" she smiles while thinking to herself, as she removes her waterlogged shoes she had been wearing and replaces them with a pair of the boots. Maroka retrieves the metal container from the countertop and places it into one of the pouches on her belt before heading for the door. She stops in the doorway and turns to look around the forge one last time, fighting back tears as she thinks about the time she spent there.
"Goodbye Gildar," she says as her eyes fall upon his anvil, she takes a deep breath and turns around leaving the forge behind.
The rain slowed to a drizzle as Maroka once again stood outside the paint-splotched door. "Caulaaaaaaaaa!!!!" Maroka yells from outside the small wooden home, her voice echoing through the empty town. Several moments pass as she stands in rain alone knowing that there won't be an answer.
"You're pathetic," she mumbles to herself as she pushes open the door, it creaks momentarily breaking the silence that fills the dark interior. The door closes behind her as she makes her way to a table in the center of the room and lights a set of candles, illuminating the home's interior. The faint smell of bacon lingered in the air from the breakfast Gildar had made that morning. Wasting little time she makes her way upstairs to the room she and Caula shared. As she stands in the doorway to her room her emotions again begin to catch up with her as tears begin filling her hazel eyes.
"I wish I could just go to sleep and wake up like this was a bad dream," she thought to herself as she collected herself and scanned the room. The bedroom had few pieces of furniture, a bed on the left and right side of the room with matching wardrobes, and two desks lining the back wall underneath a window leaving the center of the room open where a large green knit rug covered the floor.
"I always hated this rug," she chuckles aloud as she walks towards the desk on the left. The rug was made by Gildar's wife Eleayne, but green was one of Caula's favorite colors, not Maroka's. Caula would poke fun at her often saying "Eleayne must have liked me more since she went with green," slightly irritating Maroka. On top of the desk sat a closed black book with the title "Simply Magic" across the cover. "I guess I should actually read this," she thinks to herself as she recalls her conversation with Caula once again. She places the book into her backpack before a glimmer from the other desk caught her eye. A gold necklace fitted with a light red gem called faerstone sat on top of the desk next to an identical black book. The necklace was given to Caula on her seventh birthday, Gildar said the way faerstone resembled flames in the sunlight reminded him of Caula's Fiery spirit.
"Normally she wouldn't go anywhere without this on," Maroka thought to herself picking up the necklace as she suddenly remembered waking her sister up that morning.
"She'd be happy to know this is safe," she thinks as she smiles to herself playing with the necklace in her palm. She put the necklace on fastening the clasp behind her neck before turning her attention to the bed on the left side of the room. Lowering herself to the floor she pulls a dagger and another book from beneath the bed and places the book on the floor beside her staring down at the dagger in her hands. The dagger was the first one she had made without any help from Gildar, she planned on giving it to him on his birthday. Tears begin dripping onto the blade as Maroka once again reflects on her new circumstances. She takes a moment to collect herself placing the dagger on her belt and picking up the book as she stands up. This book was more like a journal, the pages worn and full of handwritten words and phrases, none of which Maroka understood. The book has a dark blue cover and was a gift from a traveling man who was being chased by wolves headed into Camig before Gildar stepped in to protect him.
"Full of spells it is," the man told Gildar, but after asking around Camig Gildar and the townspeople decided it was gibberish. "He was an odd one," they would all say doubting the authenticity of the book when one day Maroka asked Gildar if she could have it. Gildar seeing no harm in the gesture decided to let Maroka have the book of gibberish. She felt a sense of peace whenever thumbing through its pages, which she would often do when she couldn't sleep.
"I'll figure you out eventually," she says to the book before placing it in her backpack. Standing in the middle of the room she once again takes a deep breath and for a brief moment, she swore she could hear Caula laugh in the room.
"I'll miss you, sis," Maroka says aloud wiping the tears from her eyes as she makes her way downstairs blowing out the candles before leaving her home behind. Maroka makes one last lonely walk through the rain to the entrance of Camig before turning and staring back into the empty village.
"Goodbye everyone, I'll miss all of you. I don't know what's going on or why this happened, but I promise I'll find answers. One day I will know why my family and everyone else had to die, I swear," Maroka yells into Camig as tears begin to run down her face, her eyes swirling in a hazel and scarlet dance like blood in the water.