Lirael had experienced very few moments in her life that left her truly flabbergasted. After so many years in this world, spanning the reigns of three kings, she had amassed enough knowledge to fill libraries. Yet there she stood, holding a message crafted from sound rather than words. It hovered in the air, sustained by the wind, and when she infused it with a hint of Aether, it came to life, speaking in a kind of whisper.
~My name is Kael. I am traveling with a small caravan just west of Ashwood, near the Vale Mountains. Follow the path; we're less than a day's ride from the village—hurry, before we die.~
She couldn't make sense of it.
For fifteen years, she had studied the theory of sound and wind, her personal grimoire containing notes that others had scoffed at. Merging the two was impossible, they said. Foolish. Crazy. A waste of talent. It was partly for this reason that she had decided to take on an apprentice—someone gifted in the arcane with whom she could share her ideas and, perhaps, rebuild her reputation as a hermit and an eccentric. Yet, despite her reservations, here she was, holding the culmination of research she hadn't completed. It shouldn't be possible, but the evidence before her eyes suggested otherwise. Steeling herself, she grabbed her cloak and stepped out the door.
"Ma'am?"
Her guard, Sword God William Vaux, was among the highest-ranked warriors in the world, one of the Gods of the Blade. A fallen knight from the Kingdom of Okromore, William had been exiled after refusing his mad king's order to hunt down and kill his own son. Later, they'd heard that a rebellion had overthrown the kingdom, and the same son now ruled in his father's place. Still, William would not return; people saw him as either a usurper or a rogue, refusing to allow him to reclaim his former role as Captain of the Palace Guard. He understood—if anyone could disobey orders without consequence, why have a hierarchy at all?
Lirael took off at blinding speed, rushing through the streets and out of the capital. Her form was a blur, enhanced by the Aether flowing within her. Beside her, her guard kept pace, racing alongside her down the main road. Within an hour, as night fell, they crossed into the trees of Downdrawn, staying on the main path. They moved swiftly, and Will asked no questions; he knew his mistress well, having served her for the better part of a decade. Something was urgent, and her thoughts were focused entirely on the magic and the message.
If something has happened to them... I might just burn this forest to the ground.
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As Kael returned to camp, the outer guard saw him and rushed over, confused.
"What—?"
Kael dropped to one knee, looking up at the guard and speaking urgently.
"We have to go. Bandits in the forest are heading this way!"
Almost as if on cue, the guard raised his shield just in time, a metallic shiiing sounding as an arrow ricocheted into the dark. The guard shouted back, rousing the camp, while the other guard—who, to be fair, had a belly full of meat and fruit and was dozing by the fire—jerked awake. Kael's father emerged from his tent shirtless, muscles rippling and sword in hand. As one of the bandits charged, Kael watched in awe as his father parried the sword, allowing it to slide off his blade, then spun in a blur to sever the man's head. Lifting his blade with dizzying speed, he blocked another arrow. Kael, drained of Aetheric reserves, had been absorbing Aether as he ran back to camp, and now, reaching the threshold, he cast a shield spell over the tent where his mother was.
A shield that would let objects out, but not in.
He leaned against a tree, blinking sweat from his eyes as the children rushed into the tent. The guard dragged him over, shielding him from arrows as he pushed him into the tent as well. Outside, steel clashed again as Kael drew his knife and rushed out to help his father—despite his mother's protests—but then he stopped.
The sounds of clashing steel were coming from the forest. The remaining bandits, who had been charging toward them, turned and ran back into the dark, away from whatever was attacking them. Screams rang out, and flashes of magical light lit up the evening sky. More screams, then silence. Kael slowly lowered his knife as a large man in plate armor, his helm off, emerged from the trees. Beside him was a woman, her hair and face mostly obscured by a hood, her eyes glimmering with a golden hue beneath it. She looked at his father.
"Are you Kael?"
His father, still poised to fight, responded with a scowl.
"Perhaps. Who are you?"
The woman lowered her hood and stepped into the light.
"I am Lirael Sylmoira, here at the request of someone named Kael."
Kaelan grinned, stepped forward, sheathed his knife, and gave a low bow. His father lowered his sword, and his mother emerged from the tent with the children. Petra glanced at Jack and muttered, "This is why I wanted to bring my bow," before moving to his side. Bowing, Kaelan watched the ground and listened as the Sword God sheathed his blade.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Lirael Sylmoira. Thank you for coming so quickly. I am Kaelan."