A Name Forgotten

“Their sacrifice saved us all, of that there is little doubt. However, their names will likely go down in infamy, for they doomed us as well.” - Ie’nun manual fragment, author unknown

    Maya’s dress flowed behind her as she strode confidently down the claustrophobic corridor. All of the passages throughout the fortress were narrow to limit the movement of larger A’run during an incursion, but these were especially small. Crafted as both a servant’s passage as well as an escape route for rulers, the dim passageway led to a lower section of the structure that was a honeycomb of tunnels, locked doors, and dead ends designed as checkpoints for a defensive retreat should the keep fall. All of that was unimportant for Maya at the moment, however. Critical for her was only that it served as an escape from the feast going on above her. Most of the northern nobles had not bothered to attend the challenges and festival, considering the commoners’ celebration beneath them. They arrived only this evening to play politics and annoy her and her father with proposals or thinly veiled insults at their continued support of southern independence.

    Huffing at the thought of one particularly disgusting young heir who had managed both in the same sentence while scarfing down the food provided by those “rebellious” southern commoners, Maya forced herself to slow down and take a breath. She had fled the social torture as soon as she could after speaking to the few nobles she had managed to befriend, but she had another goal in coming down here. Taking a quick glance at the fork in the path ahead, she gathered her bearings, memories of childhood adventures granting her an uncanny comfort in the labyrinthine network. Five more minutes and three more turns of following her nose and ears had her arriving at her first destination. Stepping out into a chamber just as long, if not as tall, as the great hall hosting the peerage, she couldn’t stop a smile from wiping away the frown the nobles’ company had left her with. Spread out before her was a feast of an entirely different nature. All of the servants and soldiers not posted at the party above had gathered in the servant’s mess, and they were having a celebration of their own. The lower ceilings and dimmer lighting were doing nothing to dim the excitement and happiness filling nearly every corner of the normally suffocating room

The Pauper’s feast. I missed it more than I thought.

    The long, rough wooden tables typically used to feed the coterie of servers and guards that staffed the fortress had all been pushed together on the far end of the hall, where she could just make out Gerald directing a few kitchenboys in setting out what might be the largest roast Kirin she had ever seen, the monstrous bird no doubt masterfully prepared and delicious. The king’s head chef and volunteer taste tester was remarkably rotund for an Ie’nun, but she had no doubt of his abilities, either in the kitchen or on the battlefield. Watchers knew he had always managed to catch the two young girls whenever they had attempted a night raid of his kitchen. Although they always seemed to still come away with treats of some kind despite the balding man’s efforts. 

She was glad her father had let him leave the work above to others. She was a little ashamed to admit that a small part of her had worried that the long cycles since the last set of Challenges would have led to her father no longer paying for the Pauper’s Feast. Many of her fondest memories as a child were of her father bringing the both of them down here to play and eat with the servant’s while he dealt with the political problems that always arise at the challenges. The nobles always wanted to try and lay claim to the potential Blades for their region as soon as possible, even if they hadn’t earned their weapons quite yet. She hoped he would find time to come down and join them before the evening was over, although she doubted it with the strange events of the morning. He always enjoyed letting his mask slip among the humbler of his subjects, and Watchers knew they loved him for it. She made a mental note to return later on to tear him away if she had the chance. It would do him good to be among his people, and Maya had no doubt that his relationship with those who served him did far more to solidify his seat as King than his maneuvering among the peerage, although she was sure none of her peers would agree.

Her happy musings were cut short as she stumbled forward. She glanced down with a bemused grin at the cause for her misstep. A young handmaid in training with a big grin on her face had managed to sneak up on her while she was lost in thought. The little girl, barely eight cycles old, had slipped from the crowd and gotten a hold of her hand, and she was now tugging the princess towards the festivities with all she had.

“My lady Maya, I’m sho glad you came!  Jeremy kept shaying you wouldn’t come, but momma promished you would. She shaid Missh Ana used to come too, and His Majesty might even come! But this ish my first time sho I didn’t know…”

    Maya let out a bark of laughter at the adorable young girl straining to pull her forward. Sweeping the youngster up into her arms, she strode forward to join the festivities and search for the little one’s mother, who was no doubt helping organize the musicians she could see setting themselves up next to the area that had been cleared off as a dance floor. 

“Hello to you too Cara! I hope you’ve been enjoying everything. Have you gotten to see anything new down here in the south yet?”

The little girl’s eyes grew wide at the abrupt change in position, but all thoughts of propriety her mother might have tried to instill in her about being carried around by royalty fled as her eyes began to shine at the question. Her mouth opened to unleash a torrent of nearly incomprehensible stories of all the things she had encountered during the “amaishing” day.

Maya simply smiled and let the girl try to fit everything into a single breath while she looked around for the Head Maid. She knew the gap toothed Caralin quite well. Her mother Teresa was the Head Maid for the Royal servants and was renowned for her attachment to propriety and tradition. Against all odds however, the stern woman had bowed her head and asked if her children, Caralin and Jeremy, could attend the basic lessons she and Anallise had set up in the town outside the keep at Asuhold. The princesses had welcomed the young children from the keep with open arms, as well as any of the other servants’ children. They had seen no reason to restrict their more mundane lessons of arithmetic and history  to only the sighted children they had originally set out to help. 

The response was enthusiastic to say the least. Many of the servants and soldiers stationed at the northern fortress that the King called home had long since considered the two princesses one of their own, having watched them grow up before their very eyes. However, to Maya and Ana’s amazement, as well as their father’s amusement, their willingness to take in and help the children of these people had led to an almost unhealthy devotion among the servers. All of those who served the King and peerage had formed a huge community, kept safe from the abuses of nobles only by their own efforts and the intervention of their ruler. In response to the princesses teaching their children, this community had come out with swords swinging, so to speak, in support of the girls’ efforts.

    Overnight, they had started to find gifts and donations to what would become their fledgeling orphanage and elementary school outside the door. The toughs and gangs who used to cause trouble for the poorer town children heading to the school suddenly found patrols around the area much more common. Additionally, more than once Maya had seen a young man or woman from those same gangs in the back of the classroom, a fresh bruise blossoming on their cheek or chins, no doubt forced into attending by whichever guard had caught them making trouble.

    Before this support, Maya had broken down in tears of rage the first time a young child, a little blond haired boy of only six cycles, had walked into her class with a broken arm and the tiny amount of money his single mother had been able to give him for dinner missing. Watching him struggle not to cry as he strained to open the heavy wooden door to the only opportunity for education he would likely ever have, she had nearly gone to their father right then, Storm take the law!

    She had held herself back however, and didn’t even inform Ana of the incident, afraid that they wouldn’t be able to restrain themselves. She suspected Ana had seen similar occurrences though. Unfortunately, Maya knew exactly how fine a line they had been treading with their work. Teaching an Art without unanimous approval from both the King and the Council was strictly illegal, even for them. The risk to the children with an unproven Path is too great to ignore. 

And considering what Vyrn said about shifters and A’run…. There is probably far more to that law than we thought.

They could never have gotten approval from the nobles on the ruling council without revealing far too many of Vyrn’s secrets, which the arrogant asses would no doubt have been chomping at the bit to acquire. Additionally, since it turned out that much of what they had been teaching the sighted children was sourced from the taboo Sa’yun, it was likely their father would have been pressed to strip them of their status and possibly even jail them if they were found. This weird legal limbo had forced them to work on the outskirts, as a sort of open secret. Their building was dingy and donated for free to the oddly broke princesses. They were forced to “borrow” study materials and furniture from various sources. Their “sources” were usually aware of the activity and turned the other way. Unfortunately, their limited number of acquaintances outside of the reach of the nobles on the council meant that they had been severely limited in what they could do for the children.

    The sudden aid from the royal guard and servants had floored the two princesses, bringing even the normally stoic Ana to silent tears the first evening they had found their rundown doorstep overflowing with food for the children. The help had given them the breathing room they needed, allowing the school to flourish, with more children coming in almost daily.  Recently, they had even managed to purchase an old inn across the street and convert it into an orphanage, giving them a cover for their education of the sighted children, and allowing them to operate in at least something approaching the light of day. No doubt this move into the spotlight was the reason Jalis and Allison had inquired about it.

    Shaking her head to clear her mind of the past, Maya finally spotted the woman she was looking for. Teresa’s stick thin figure was currently wielding a serving fork over her head, her brown hair swaying as she shook the implement in an obvious threat over some imperfectly completed task. She was along the left wall, near the tables, directing the assembly of a set of stages where traveling bards and Proctors would be performing.  The princess smiled at the sight. It was always refreshing to see the woman in her element, without the stilted phrases and uptight mannerisms that usually dominated her behavior around nobility.

    Making her way through the swarms of already celebrating servants, she smiled and nodded as different members of the crowd recognized her and joyfully greeted her royal highness.  Struggling to keep moving as the recognition spread, Maya finally broke into the relatively clear space surrounding the tables where the food and stages were still being set out. She immediately started to make her way towards the Head Maid, both to return her daughter and to ask the question she had come down here for in the first place.

    Her stride was broken by the sudden wriggling of her initially talkative passenger. Cara had spotted her mother and suddenly realized exactly who was carrying her. Terrified her mother would see the current situation, the little girl had become extremely determined to be put down immediately, lest her mother deny her access to the many wonders of the celebration in punishment.

    Maya simply smiled and gently put the girl down on her feet, helping the young lady to smooth her skirt and hair. By the time her mother, Teresa, had turned around in response to a comment from one of her underlings about the approaching heiress, the little handmaiden had assumed the most demure and proper of stances as she escorted the princess to her mother. Maya couldn’t help her grin growing even wider at the sight. Teresa would no doubt be immediately suspicious of her daughter’s suddenly acceptable behavior, but unfortunately Maya would have to leave that for another time.

“Thank you for the escort, Cara.”

    The young girl jumped at the royal’s whisper, turning her head so fast she nearly caught Maya’s already rising face with her swinging braid. The princess ignored her surprise and strode past her escort to reach Teresa a step ahead. The stern woman already had a calculating glint in her eye as she looked at her daughter, but she quickly returned her gaze to Maya and gave a quick dip of her head and a genuine smile.

“I’m so glad you could make it your highness. All of us are happy to see you still remember this little gathering of ours.”

    Maya was a little taken aback at the sincerity in the woman’s manner and gaze, although she was pleased to see the woman drop the normal pretenses here at least. Giving her own soft smile in return, Maya nodded and gestured at the chaos around them.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Miss Teresa. Many of my fondest memories are of enjoying Gerald’s cooking and watching the bards from your husband’s shoulders during the festival.”

    The maid’s eyes flashed, no doubt in response to the reminder of her husband, a royal guardsman, absconding with the young royals into the festival back then. Her smile only grew gentler, however. Her eyes softened and she looked Maya up and down before inquiring in a much quieter tone.

“He wasn’t the only one that used to steal you two away, wrapped around your fingers as you two had my husband. How is the Wanderer doing?”

The maid paused here, her gaze faltering before continuing in an even softer tone, her smile fading ever so slightly,

“How are you holding up, your highness?”

    Maya’s smile fell at the question. Turning her head and pretending to watch the latest dish being brought out, she struggled to keep the litany of confusing emotions from her face. She refused to allow herself to dampen the joyous mood around her. It had been a decade since the last of these celebrations and the people around her deserved every moment of what little joy they could snatch. 

Besides, I’m down here to get the answers to my questions, whether he wants to tell me or not. 

    Turning her eyes to match Teresa’s gaze, she forced a warm smile onto her face. It wasn’t as difficult as she expected with the atmosphere surrounding her helping to form the joyful grin.

“I’m doing just fine, Miss Teresa. Although I won’t lie, seeing all of this, and all of you, helps more than I can say.”

Mustering her nerve, Maya took a deep breath, her chest squaring, and continued before she could get sucked into any of the activities that were already beginning on the stage directly behind Teresa, the music beginning to waft out over the bustling crowd.

“Before anything else, however, I do need to speak to him. Is he in his room?”

    The head maid’s face showed only confusion at the question. Dipping her head, the woman apologized, her voice adopting the more formal cadence the princess was used to hearing from her.

“I’m sorry, your highness. I do not know the Wanderer’s whereabouts at the moment. I was under the impression that he would be attending the Noble’s gathering this evening.”

    Stifling a groan at the woman’s return to formality, as well as Vyrn’s typically mysterious whereabouts, the princess tried in vain to rub the crease from between her brows as she closed her eyes and responded, her voice short and clipped despite her best efforts.

“Did he at least take a room? Surely there is somewhere I can leave a message for him?”

    Teresa kept her head bowed as she responded. Although Maya was sure she could hear some amusement slipping through the cracks in the woman’s voice this time. No doubt she was amused at the man’s continued ability to avoid and annoy every noble around him, including Maya it seems. 

“He has always kept a permanent residence here at the Horns, your highness. None of the servants are allowed inside, but the last few days the towels we left outside his door have been missing. Used, I would presume, although none of us are aware of a drain for a washroom coming from that portion of the castle.”

    Maya didn’t even try to keep the surprise off her face at the revelation. She hadn’t known he kept a room for himself here, let alone a secret one. He had always found temporary lodgings among the servants in the northern fortress, another ploy to annoy the nobility no doubt. This proclivity was why she had come straight to the Pauper’s feast to inquire about his location. Curiosity was beginning to burn through the heavier emotions weighing down her heart at his disappearance following the Challenges.

I knew he always stayed with the servants. He never was one to bask in luxury. But a permanent room that the servants he is so fond of are barred from……

“Could you show me the way there please? Hopefully I can speak with him and be back before the festivities manage to hit full swing.”

    She was speaking the truth there. She really didn’t want to miss her first Pauper’s feast in ten cycles, and she could already smell the dishes being laid out to her right. The snacks and finger food of the earlier hours had done little to fill her grumbling stomach.

    Teresa raised her head, a small smile adorning her face as she nodded towards her daughter and responded in a warm voice.

“I would be happy to, your highness, but I am quite busy arranging for the entertainment you used to love so much as a child. Cara has been taking him his towels every morning, so I am sure she would be delighted to continue to act as your escort for a little longer.”

    Maya turned her head to look at the little girl behind her and nearly choked. She was quite literally bouncing in excitement at the idea. Her carefully braided hair was swinging back and force from the pent up energy pushing the girl from one foot to the other, her tiny little fists clasped in front of her. A mix of exasperation and loving amusement colored the princess’ next words as she inquired of the young lady,

“Is that true Cara? Would you be able to show me where Vyrn is staying?”

    A flood of nearly indecipherable words were her answer as the handmaiden in training nodded her head furiously and grabbed the princess’ hand once more to drag her off on their “adventure”. Openly laughing now, Maya allowed herself to be led off towards a door behind the stages, only turning her head to nod in thanks to the girl’s smiling mother. She also ignored the many workers setting up the stages and tables trying not to laugh at the sight of the princess of the northern realms being manhandled by a child.

    A few moments later had the pair escaping the echoing sounds of the burgeoning celebration. The little girls gushing tales continued non stop, however. The silence of the rough stone corridors did nothing to deter the young maid from telling her teacher and princess all that had been happening throughout her day, interrupting her tirade only to quickly fire questions about Ana or the king without any pause in expectation of an answer.

Maya simply allowed the little one to enjoy her role as guide and escort, nodding and providing short, simple answers when she could. Most of her mind was devoted to following their pathway away, and down, from the servant’s mess where the feast was being held. Already they had passed by the deepest servant’s quarters, the rooms which contained those who maintained these corridors and the escape routes even farther towards the back of the mountain fortress.

They weren’t moving towards the back of the mountain however. Instead, the young girl had led her to a few well hidden passages that seemed to spiral directly down towards the base of the monolith. Eventually the passageway no longer held even the basic workings that dotted the fortress and provided light whenever someone moved nearby. Instead, the rougher stone was now lit by a sparse scattering of torches. Without pausing or releasing the heiress’ hand, Cara leaned up on her toes and snagged one such torch while they continued forward.

“Normally Jeremy helps me. He holds the towels while I lead with the torch, but sometimes….”

    Maya allowed her mind to totally ignore the girl’s following words. Instead she was looking before them with wide eyes, mind racing at the changing tunnel. She could make out a shift in the stone a few dozen yards ahead. The stone became rougher, even less finely carved, and darker as well. The flickering of Cara’s torch was swallowed by the almost disturbingly black stone that was now devoid of even the earlier torches, explaining Cara’s acquisition of her own.

That’s…. That’s  Aerinite! So much of it… How did they even make this?

    As they continued walking for several more minutes in the lonely and dark passageway, Maya’s amazement continued to grow as the solid black passageway continued for a greater and greater distance with Cara’s voice echoing down its length. She couldn’t understand it. Even the forgers weren’t capable of shaping aerinite in more than the tiniest of amounts, let alone carving a tunnel through a solid mass of it. The stone refused to interact with Aether in almost any way other than absorbing it, and was incredibly durable, far stronger and tougher than granite or marble. 

Not to mention the sheer amount of the stuff surrounding them. The largest solid block of the stone she had ever seen had been in the center of an array in the forges below the northern keep. The size of her closed fist, the stone had acted as a stabilizer for the massive array that protected the secrecy of the forgers from prying eyes, and was the pride and joy of the Grandmaster despite its small size. He had once said that the stone would have been able to fund the entire Academy of Asuhold for a year if sold in the black market. 

Maya and her young guide had been walking through an entire tunnel of the rare stone for close to five minutes already. Even if the tunnel was only lined with the stuff, which the rough nature of the walls strongly denied, the mass of aerinite surrounding them had to be worth more than the entire northern realms combined!

Eventually, she spotted another light peeking around a slight curve in the tunnel ahead of them. It was only as they approached the odd, lone torch that she noticed the silence chilling the dark tunnel around them. Looking down at her suddenly silent escort, Maya was confused at the solemn demeanor that greeted her. Cara’s eyes were fixed on the lit torch ahead of them, her face fixed in a frown. Maya could feel the little girls unrelenting grip on her hand tighten even further at whatever thoughts were passing behind her eyes.

“Cara?”

    Maya spoke softly. She remembered that look, oddly enough. She herself had worn it nearly ten cycles ago, not long after Vyrn had disappeared into the Veil. She wasn’t like them, however. She would not be pushing this girl to break Vyrn’s trust like they had her.

“It’s ok, Cara. We can go back to the feast. If he said the torch means something, then you should listen.”

To Maya’s surprise, the little girl shook her head violently at her words. Speaking quietly, Caralin explained to the confused royalty standing next to her.

“Itsh ok Miss Maya. He shaid that you and Miss Ana were always welcome, no matter what.”

    Following her baffling statement, the little girl let go of Maya’s hand and trotted to the far side of the tunnel from the existing light source, straining up against the wall. After a moment, she found what she was looking for, and slid her own torch into a matching bracket Maya hadn’t noticed in the darkness. Turning around, Cara gave Maya a surprisingly graceful curtsy, her head dipping in apology and respect.

“I’m shorry, teacher. I can’t follow you pasht here. Shay hello to Vyrn for me? I’ll tell mom to hold the best acts and dishes for you. Don’t try and come back without Vyrn or you’ll get lost.”

    Before Maya could properly respond to the girls’ strange shift in behavior, Cara darted off down the tunnel, back the way they had come, disappearing into the blackness. Maya started at her abrupt departure, and she reached out for the girl while she called out.

“Cara! The torch!”

    Silence and darkness were her only answers. Shaking her head at the oddness surrounding this entire week, she turned to look down the tunnel towards their initial destination. She was determined to see Vyrn and get some answers out of him. From Cara’s words, it sounded like the torch meant he was in his room, and it was unlikely the little girl would get lost. She obviously knew the tunnels down here far better than Maya did. Looking past the matched set of torches Cara had put in place, Maya froze.

That’s not possible.

    Between the two torches stood a solid aerinite wall, with a wooden door set into its middle. The previously stretching passage was nowhere to be seen. Taking a step back in shock, Maya’s eyes flickered across the wall and door in front of her. Idly noting the empty basket resting on the floor next to the door, she desperately searched for any sign of a working. There was nothing, however. The tiny amount of Aether not absorbed by the aerinite walls swirled harmlessly around her, no sign of any illusion or barrier in sight.

What is this? I don’t see anything?! Just the stupid fucking door!

Her breath coming heavy at this point, Maya was beginning to feel out of her depth for the first time since she was a child. The sensation wasn’t as unfamiliar as she might have wished. Gritting her teeth, Maya steeled herself. She knew better than to expect herself to understand everything around her. He had taught them that extensively. Her hesitation at the door’s appearance could have been disastrous under more dangerous circumstances. It seemed like it might have been too long since she had pushed herself into new territory.

Glancing at the door’s handle, she noted with a tilt of her head that the door was actually cracked open. Striding forward with feigned confidence, she paused with her hand inches from the door. Grimacing at her own unwillingness to simply barge in on the frustrating man, Maya found her hand raising up to knock her knuckles against the wooden frame.

“Vyrn? It’s me, Maya. May I come in?”

    For the second time that evening, only silence and darkness responded to her entreaty. Giving it only a few moments more, she finally pushed the door open and stepped into the Wanderer’s abode.

Looking around the small bedroom, Maya was surprised by the spartan accommodations illuminated by the workings on the ceiling. The bare stone walls were interrupted only by a small raised cot pushed against the left wall, made neatly with a single blanket pulled taught, and a small desk and chair against the wall opposite the entryway. Maya idly noted a used towel, no doubt left earlier in the day by the two youngsters, draped across the end of the cot. Peeking around the open door at the right wall, she saw only a single closed door with a large bolt holding it shut from the inside. Striding across to it, she assumed it contained both the washroom and the missing Wanderer, judging by the towel. Raising her hand, she called out once more while knocking on the oddly solid wood.

“Vyrn? Are you decent? I’m coming in!” 

    Only an echoing silence answered her declaration. Frowning in frustration and confusion at the oddness and lack of response, Maya huffed, cursing the “stormblighted whitehair”. Trying the handle, she found the door firmly locked from the other side as well. Well and truly confused at the portal apparently locked from both sides, she looked at the deadbolt more closely. Understanding dawned as she squinted at the dark steel.

He’s got Aether woven over the whole thing. He can probably unlock it from either side with the right working.

    Her pride at spotting her mentor’s obviously careful work had a small smile punching dimples into her cheeks. Turning away from the impassible door, she allowed her curiosity to guide her over to Vyrn’s desk. The chair was still pulled away, turned slightly towards the locked door. Plopping into the open seat, she decided to let herself do a bit of snooping while she waited for him. She was relatively sure, between the working and small signs of habitation, that Vyrn had simply stepped past the closed door. Scooting closer to the desk, she looked it over carefully.

    There were a few loose, blank sheets of paper scattered across its surface. She noticed a stoppered inkwell as well, although she didn’t see a quill or knife anywhere.  Leaning back slightly in the chair she examined the underside and legs of the desk.  Letting the front legs of the chair fall back to the stone with a thump, Maya chewed her thumb in confusion. No quill, knife, or sand for drying, but she didn’t see any drawers for storage. Glancing over her shoulder at the cot, she quickly eliminated the idea of anything being stored underneath it. She had never seen a more bare piece of furniture.  

Plopping her elbows onto the desk, she let her chin rest in her hand while she sorted through the pages in front of her with the other. Finding only a single off-white sheet of paper with any writing on it, she quickly recognized the handwriting as her father’s. The paper was simply an invitation to the feast she had left earlier, detailing when it began and who would be attending, with careful attention paid to some of the more…. aggressive members of the peerage. 

She smiled into her hand at the not so subtle threats her father had hidden in the invitation should Vyrn not deign to show up and help, “fight off the peacocks”. Obviously, Vyrn had ignored them out of hand. If there was one sure fire way to make sure the infamous Wanderer didn’t show up to interrupt your party, it was to have as many nobles present as possible.

Surely he has more than just this in his only permanent residence… Or at least the only one I know of.

    Frowning at the mental reminder of how little she actually knew about the man, Maya drummed her fingers on his desk while she hummed into her other hand in thought. A few moments later, she paused. Balling her free hand into a fist and dropping her ear to the desk, she wrapped her knuckles against the top of the wood.

That sound….

    A wild, childlike grin found its way onto her face as she quickly slid the chair back, ignoring the loud noise it made scraping across the stone. Dropping to her knees on the stone, She ignored her dress on the bare floor as she carefully inched her fingers across the underside of the desk. Brows screwed up in concentration, she remained focused despite the chuckle fighting to distract her from her search. Vyrn had always loved to make puzzle boxes for them when they were younger and stuck inside because of the Storm that would hit the Mainland every cycle. Ana was much better at solving them, but Maya had always been competitive….

Got it!

    Smiling even wider, Maya carefully pressed up on the three indentations she had discovered with her right hand. A soft click on the left side of the desk rewarded her efforts. Getting to her feet and peering around the end of the desk, she could see a small lateral section of the wood jutting out from the rest. Getting back in the chair and scooting it over to the end of the desk near the hidden compartment, she pulled the small drawer out fully. Sitting inside was the missing writing implement. Surprisingly, it looked very similar to the pens Ana and the forgers had just started to make recently. It was shorter and came to a much sharper point then the ones Maya was used to seeing up at Asuhold, but there was no mistaking what it was.

How in the world did he ever get one of these? The grandmaster only released the first one based on those books Ana found a few months ago.

    Ignoring the odd pen for the moment, Maya turned her attention to the sole other occupant of the hidden compartment.  The thin tome was bound in a black skin that was unlike anything Maya had ever heard of. She knew she was looking at a small black notebook, but something about the blackness of the material kept trying to force her eyes away, as though they would rather skitter to anything rather than rest their gaze on that black thing, which seemed to hide the entire drawer in shadow despite the bright lights overhead.

    She was bewildered by the effect. She had practiced looking through enough illusions and mental workings at a young age that she was ordinarily able to see through even the most advanced, and yet…

I can’t see a single working on the book or even the drawer…

    Shaking off the odd effect as much as she could, she reached into the dark space and wrapped her fingers around the surprisingly soft material. Lifting the book out of its resting place, she would have stumbled, had she been standing. The moment she had picked the book up, the effect vanished, leaving the entire room several shades brighter and letting the details of the notebook come into sharp detail.

    Blinking at the sudden brightness, she flipped the notebook over looking for any other clues to its origin. She couldn’t keep her gasp contained at what she found on the other side.

If the nobles ever found this....

    Her eyes wide, she let her gaze play across the name in front of her a few times to engrave it in her mind. Roughly scorched into the odd black material, a single odd name was printed.

Vyrn’Aeris, the Wanderer

So Vyrn was his real name after all…

    A small chuckle escaped her lips at the thought. She was well aware of the almost absurd lack of information surrounding Vyrn. However, it still amused her that even his very name was in question. The going rate on the black market for information about Vyrn was absurd, with even a single tidbit netting an informant enough coin to buy a small village. However, despite decades of the peerage pushing for dirt on the influential figure, almost nothing was known about the enigmatic man. The only name anyone had for him was the short name he gave to everyone, Vyrn. Even the origin of his title, The Wanderer, was a common topic of discussion for anyone trying to puzzle out the white haired guide’s origin, with most assuming it was born of his appearances in seemingly random hamlets and cities to offer aid. It was oddly comforting that he took the title as his own, as well as the fact that he had apparently always been giving his real name.

    Now totally enthralled with her find, Maya flipped to the first page and dove in, curious to learn as much as she could about the man who had dominated her younger years.

In the ancient style, my name is Vyrn of the Veil. I’ve come to be known by quite a few other names and titles through the years. Mankind now calls me the Wanderer. The Striders call me A’sol, or Bright one. The Temer know me as Oneeichi, or Biggest Brother. The Astralatans, Irenoi, and even the Watchers themselves all have their own names and titles for me. Some born of respect, bought and earned. Others latched onto me because of irrational hatred and greed.  I have been called slave, insect, and worthless, all truthfully. More recently I have been given the great gift of being called Master and Teacher, although sometimes I doubt my ability to fill those shoes. However, I have never thought of myself as any of those things. 

I am Vyrn’Aeris, proud son of Iscil of the Storm and May’Aeris the last Sa’yun, and this is my story.

    The notebook made an oddly soft noise as it impacted the surface of the desk, flipping closed. It’s simple and rough hewn appearance mocking her astonishments at its contents.

This… he made a journal?! If anyone ever got a hold of this….

Maya’s mind was already aswirl with thoughts of the chaos that would dominate the court should this book’s existence ever be made known to the public. Vyrn had stifled many of the more vicious instincts of the ruling class over the last few centuries, especially with his protection of the strange Proctors who wandered the continent distributing news and forecasts of the Storm. This had led to an odd dichotomy among the nobles of the northern realms. Most of them held a deep seated hatred and resentment for the seemingly young man. They believed that he withheld secrets of power and long life that were their divine right as nobles, and their efforts to uncover his secrets and pressure him out of politics were unceasing, nevermind his countless contributions to their people or their protectors.

 The remaining few held faith with both Vyrn and the King, believing in him out of gratitude for his single handed rescue of mankind from the slowly encroaching Veil all those Cycles ago.

Especially for those who are aware of his agelessness…

    Hands trembling now, Maya reached forward and picked up the innocuously dangerous notebook once more. Ignoring the renewed brightness brought on by her contact with the black leather, she opened the journal to its first page. Reading over the introduction once more, still not believing what she was seeing, she glanced nervously at the still locked door. Moving her gaze to the slightly open passage behind her, she gripped the book to her chest and darted to the open door. 

    Shutting the heavy door and locking it, she heaved a sigh of relief as Vyrn’s working on the lock activated, closing the room off from all but the most determined of sieges. Walking slowly, her eyes now once more fixed on the pages in front of her, she settled herself on the small cot to wait for her teacher and began to read further…

    My first waking memory remains clear in my mind, its clarity granting it a sharpness that has kept the wound it left from ever truly healing. Although some might argue about calling my inspiration a wound, I know it for what it truly is. 

I was not quite two years old at the time, and I was comfortably situated on my mother’s lap. She was sitting in her favorite chair next to the massive stained glass window my father had gotten put in for her to celebrate their marriage. It was a truly impressive affair. All of the glass was handcrafted by forgers brought into our realm by the shifters. The cost of bringing the forgers alone was likely enough to bankrupt any normal village like ours, but my father had saved up for years to build our villa and spared no expense to give her the home she had dreamed of. I can still remember the tiny kirin that seemed to fly through the glass, their tiny wings changing positions and color whenever I would move my head.

    I was fascinated with the intricate images of different creatures and plants displayed in the window, and my mother would often use her seat next to it to both distract me from whatever latest “tragedy” was upsetting my life as a toddler, as well as to help her relax. Watcher’s know she deserved whatever help she could get dealing with me as a child, my curiosity led me to trouble more often than not, and my father was not the greatest at dealing with small children, despite his best efforts.

    The first thing I remember of that day other than delight with the pretty glass figures was confusion. My mother was trembling, her arms around me much tighter than I was used to, and she was making a very odd noise deep in her chest that I could feel throughout my tiny body. I was confused and wasn’t sure what to do. She was normally so happy when we sat together by the window, but then I had never seen my mother cry before.

    Eventually feeling the wetness of her quiet tears on my ear and neck, I remember the moment of understanding nearly as clearly as the glass kirin I loved so much. The deep, hollow comprehension felt like it was trying to pull my chest into my heart, and it was the first time I felt scared in my young, charmed life. My mother was hurting, and I didn’t understand.

Yet.

May’Aeris, my mother, was our rock. Even my father, great warrior that he was, could only let his fury falter and dim in the face of my mother’s quiet practicality, logic, and if I am being honest, her stubbornness. I can recall an almost uncountable number of arguments and fights between my parents from my childhood, but I only ever saw her cry twice in all those years. I have never again felt so deep a terror as when I understood the truth of my mother’s fear and sorrow on those two days.

On that first day of my memory however, I thought, in my childish naivety, that I could help. I turned from my favorite corner of the window and put my arms around my mother’s head and neck. Running my hands over her hair like she had always done for me when I was hurt, I said over and over, my small voice barely audible.

“It’s ok, Mommy. It’s ok. I love you. It’ll be alright.”

    I kept repeating the same lines she would always say to me, ignoring the renewed sob that wracked her chest at my words, as well as the increased pressure around my midsection from her arms. I was scared by my mother’s tears, but she was Mom, she would be ok. Not to mention, despite my best intentions, I was still a very curious child. Boredom and discomfort set in quickly, but even at that age I understood that my mother needed me.

    So I did the next best thing, I looked out the window.

    I was ordinarily absorbed by the images and colors on the edges of the window. The beautiful creatures and vistas depicted in the glass and frame were more than enough to catch the eye of my young mind. However, most of the window was faintly transparent, allowing us to look out into the town square of the village that had sprung up around my parent’s abode long before I was born. Unable to closely examine and run my fingers along the different creatures while my mother held me so tightly, I decided to take a page out of my mother’s book and use the window to see what the other villagers were up to. It was early morning, but it was sixthday, which meant the weekly market would be starting soon. 

    Shifting slightly to let my head slide to the side of my mother’s, I peered over her shoulder and out into the town square. My movement startled my mother, but she seemed distracted in her sorrow, not noticing in time to stop me from seeing exactly what had sparked her tears.

“Mommy?”

    My voice trailed off, my quiet reassurances forgotten in place of a desperate question. I needed an explanation. I couldn’t understand what I was looking at. My mind was screaming, crying, raging, unable to form a coherent thought in the face of the horror kept at bay only by a thin pane of glass.

    Outside our window, dragging his bloodied form across the hard packed dirt of the town square towards us, was the owner of the local lumber mill, Tavrin. Even through the colored glass I could make out the tears streaming down his face. Almost mechanically, my mind noted that his mouth was probably open in a scream because of the entrails he was dragging behind himself where his legs would normally be. However, impossibly, the pitiful figure of the miller could not hold my gaze or attention, despite the oddity of his silence even as he screamed.

    No, I did not stare at him.

    I did not look at any of them for long, although my eyes took them all in, even if my mind could not. Sahra’s body slumped over the vegetable stand she had begun to get ready for the morning market, her jaw missing and her golden hair stained a dirty rust brown where it hung, inches above the dirt.  My favorite playmate Nick’Oran, adorned in his market day best, his head twisted the wrong way, his unseeing eyes peering beyond the fallen form of his mother’s half eaten corpse draped over his body in a vain attempt to shelter him.

Kara’Lin, Johnathan, Eatry, Tom, everyone.

    They were all dead, pieces of them strewn across the square in a macabre mockery of the vibrant hustle and bustle of our small village. Blood covered everything. The walls of the buildings, the stalls, the dirt, stained and scattered with pools of the thick red liquid, and even the monstrous figure that held my young gaze so tightly was plastered with the color of death. 

    Standing just behind the screaming miller, gnawing on the second leg it had just torn free, stood an A’run. Nearly twenty rist tall even as it hunched over its latest meal, its head sat on nearly the same level as the roofs of the nearby houses. Shrouded in a storm of bloody, dark aether, I could make out little of the aether-born creature’s features beyond its piercing violet gaze and the massive claws that protruded beyond its fell aura on its many, misshapen limbs. However, I could see it as it worried at the leg like a dog, despite obviously being able to swallow it whole. The limb seemed like little more than a snack in front of the massive figure. I could also see, even then, as the light blue and brown aether within the lost limb was drawn out and subsumed by the dark aura of power surrounding the creature.

    Soon, the Aether stopped flowing, and the creature’s gaze shifted from its meal, settling on the dying man a few rist from it. Tavrin had managed to pull his dying body a couple rist closer to our home, but while the beast devoured his lower half, his strength had given out. Perhaps blessedly, he had passed out from the immense pain and shock. Almost lazily, the monster stretched one of its many limbs toward the completion of its meal. I watched as its limb stretched out in ways it shouldn’t as it reached for the man. However, before its claws could reach its prize, its head and upper body whipped around. Its whole form froze in that new position as it gazed behind it at whatever had caught its attention.

    After a heartbeat, it dropped the leg still clutched in its claws and spun completely to face the new threat, dropping to all…. Seven?  Regardless, its new position allowed me to see what had caught its attention so fully.

    Standing at the far end of the square, his white hair gently shifting in the breezes so common to our lakeside settlement, was my father. However, I could barely make out his features beyond the piercing brightness of the violet aether surrounding him. My father’s aether was almost always tightly controlled. Even with my sight, as a child I could normally only barely make out the lightest touches of aether flowing through his veins when he would lift a particularly heavy object for my mother or when he would swing me around.

    Now, it raged. 

    I had never seen so much aether around or inside one person before. My father was almost like one of the images from the window, but they now seemed dull and listless in comparison to the fury and beauty of the energy surrounding and flowing through him. Even the greatbow slung across his back was full of the otherworldly potential, and my father soon put it to good use.

    A roar resounded from the beast at the challenge to its own fell aura, shaking the panes of the window in between us, despite the odd silence. Charging forward at what seemed like an impossible speed, the A’run crossed half the distance between it and my father in half a breath, tearing up dirt and corpses alike as it raced towards its opponent.

    In contrast, Iscil of the Storm seemed calm and unhurried. He leisurely unslung his greatbow while the beast roared, and meticulously drew and nocked an arrow from the quiver at his waist as it charged. By the time he had raised and drawn his weapon, the A’run’s claw’s were stretched out in that same unnatural manner, only a few rist from his throat.

And then my father, and his aether, moved.

    If I had not possessed the sight from such a young age, and if the forger crafted glass, colored only by the aether infusing it, had not filtered out much of the visible aether for me, I likely would have had not the faintest idea of what happened next.

However, I was a strange child, and my father had purchased the very best for my mother’s window.

    And so, I watched, fascinated as my father’s aether flowed, stretching around the beast’s charge at an incomprehensible speed, my father’s gliding form following closely behind, his weapon still drawn and trained on the beast before him as he circled it. So quick was his movement that I don’t believe the A’run even realized his opponent had changed position until my father arrived directly behind it. His dodge so quick that the powerful A’run seemed to be moving in slow motion. However, now his arrow was pointing away from his wife and child, and he released before the beast could react.

    The surge of light was too bright for my young eyes and I ducked my head in pain into my mother’s shoulder. Blinking rapidly, I hurriedly raised my head once more, spots dancing in my vision as I looked out the window for my father. 

    He was already striding through the death filled square toward us, slinging his bow over his shoulder as he went. Looking behind him for the A’run, I saw the beast laying in a deep furrow from its aborted charge, with the upper half of its body missing and its dark aether already escaping into the air. Beyond it, a charred and broken path of destruction cut through earth and structure alike for as far as I could see. My father’s arrow had stopped for nothing. 

Turning my gaze back on my father, I found that he was looking straight at me. Ignoring all of the bodies and gore surrounding him, he smiled at me, even as a tear worked its way down his face. 

I knew that smile. It told his only son that everything was alright now, that Dad would fix everything. It said that they were safe, and so, tears now pouring down my own face as well, I hugged my mother even tighter and said to her.

“It’s ok Mommy, Daddy’s back.”

At my words, she dropped the working she had been holding around our home and burst into loud sobs.

___

“Hello, Maya.”

    Maya jerked in surprise and quickly sat up on the bed, closing the odd book in a vain attempt to hide her exploits. Cheeks coloring at the thought of being caught reading what seemed like his personal journal, she found herself looking everywhere but at the man standing in the shadow of the previously impassible doorway. Forcing herself to look straight at the most important figure in the world, she forced a smile on her face and responded.

“Hi… Vyrn.  I was looking for you to get some Storm-Blighted answers, and Cara showed me your room, and then the puzzle…”

    Her voice, normally so brazen and bold, trailed off quietly at the stern look in her teacher’s eyes. No matter how long he had been gone, it seemed she would always be vulnerable to that heavy gaze, especially when she was caught red handed invading his privacy. She turned her face to the floor at her feet, a frustrated and angry look beginning to sneak its way over her face at being in trouble despite her original intentions in searching for the Wanderer.

    She refused to look up when she felt the cot sag slightly underneath her as he settled himself next to her. Sighing heavily at her refusal to emerge from behind the black tresses forming a curtain around her downturned head, Vyrn leaned back on his hands and stared up at the intricate workings on the ceiling providing light as he said quietly,

“How much did you read?”

    Maya seemed to sink into herself even further at the question, her head dipping towards her fidgeting hands as she responded in an even softer voice.

“Just your first memory, I’m sor-”

    The heavy sigh of relief that escaped Vyrn’s lips at her words cut her off and made her spin her head to look in amazement at the strange man. A distant smile rested on his face as his eyes peered through the ceiling and backwards in time. Before she could formulate the confusion into a coherent question, he turned to match her gaze and answered the unasked question.

“That’s fine then. I’m not ashamed or traumatized by that memory anymore Maya. It’s been far too long for anything but pride in my parents and a faint sadness to remain. I’m just glad you hadn’t managed to reach any of the training methods from my childhood before I could talk to you about them.”

Maya leaned backwards quickly, flustered, as the chiselled, ageless warrior leaned across her, his white hair tickling her nose, and snatched the little black book up in his hands.  He turned it over in his hands, his fingers running along the burned in name with what seemed like remorse. Abruptly, he slapped his right hand on the cover and asked her in what she recognized as his teaching voice,

“Do you know who I wrote this for Maya?”

    Maya turned a queer look on her mentor at the oddly worded question. She had assumed, since it seemed like a journal, that he had written it for himself. His question made it appear otherwise though.

Who he wrote it for…

He remained focused on the black tome, refusing to look at her or give any hints until she answered, it seemed. A dozen different emotions flitted across her face as she considered his query. Finally settling on a response, gone were her embarrassment and frustration. In their place, only curiosity and a slight, hopeful suspicion remained.

“I don’t know for sure…”

    She spoke slowly at first, watching for Vyrn’s response. When he remained stoic, waiting for her full response, she continued quickly

“...But that’s not a journal for you is it? And you said it has all the training methods you used in it...”

    She grinned widely at the small smile pulling at the corner of his lips despite his efforts to keep his face still and expressionless. Reaching over and snatching the book out of his hands, she ignored his surprised look. Triumph, pride, and joy battled in her eyes as she looked at the autobiography of the strongest and most mysterious artist alive clutched in her hands. Holding it to her chest she matched his surprise with an even brighter smile and said,

“It’s for us isn’t it? Ana and me, I mean! You are going to teach us your path!”

    She ignored his chuckle at her exuberance. Her happiness at finally having a chance at becoming something more was far too extreme to allow him to interrupt it. Her mind raced as she considered all the implications of being taught the path of The Wanderer, especially after her father’s revelation concerning advanced paths for artists. She even started humming to herself in happiness.

    Letting the young girl bask in her excitement for a moment longer, Vyrn took a heavy breath and stood, startling the princess from her increasingly fantastic dreaming. He was looking at the door he had entered from as he responded, both his tone and his look oddly solemn.

“It’s not just for you and your sister, Maya.”

    As Maya watched, aether flowed from her teacher in a torrent of potential. He typically appeared as a void, even to her sighted eyes. Only the smallest amounts of aether possible was ever visible in her teacher’s workings. Now, deep within the bowels of mankind’s last great bastion, he was a raging river of power to her eyes. As she watched, the churning mass of power pouring forth from the Wanderer began to move. Shifting color and shape it began to twist and turn in unfathomable shapes and symbols. Forms of Aether she had never seen before flitting before her faster than she could track, gone and finished with whatever task he had assigned it before she could even register their existence. The storm of potential growing in complexity and power until Maya couldn’t help but compare it to the Storm itself.

And then it was gone.

    In its place was open air. The stone walls, the cot, the desk, and the doors were all replaced with clouds and starlight of the open sky.  Looking down, Maya felt her stomach turn as she observed the mountain turned fortress beneath her feet. 

    Thousands of rist below her, all the various lights and sounds of the festival goers lit up the warborn structure like an odd, morbid solstice decoration. With nothing between her and the unforgiving mountainside except open air, she could make out the innumerable streams of aether twisting through the sky, connecting and dancing amidst the multitude of people living their lives below.

    She gripped the cot beneath her until her fingers turned white. She could still feel the thin mattress, she could even feel the massive ball of aether rotating and shifting around her. However, she saw none of it.

    Vyrn stood silently in the night sky, now facing his one time protege. He looked on as she slowly unclenched her hands from the invisible cot and stood before him, marveling at the world illuminated by moonlight beneath them. A small smile found its way onto his face when she turned her head up and began to laugh at the river of stars overhead. Its beauty and closeness inspired a sense of such pure wonder that she found herself falling back into that long forgotten state of excitement and wonder as they explored the world with their teacher.

    Placing his hand on her shoulder, he brought her back to herself and gestured towards the fortress beneath them, with the ocean of colorful tents now dyed black and white by the darkness in the fields before it. Speaking softly, with utmost reverence for what they were seeing, he explained,

“It’s for all of them Maya. For every southerner rallying together to stand against unbeatable monsters.”

    There was a shift, and suddenly Maya was looking down on her hometown, and the castle and Academy that overlooked it. A’suhold glowed with the light of a thousand forges, eternally burning while the A’tun forged their masterworks to arm the Blades and Spears of the Crown. Meanwhile the port town named after the infamous academy twinkled with a thousand shuttered windows. The citizens completing their nightly rituals a thousand eyes away from the Wanderer’s bedroom.

“It’s for every student of A’suhold, striving to sharpen themselves to protect their families. For every child begging on the streets to feed themselves and their siblings.”

Another shift, and they were a few hundred feet above a road in the deep, northern forest. Camped next to it was a convoy of wagons and skippers. Their fires pushed back the darkness of the forest, away from the safety of a city and its walls, just enough for the merchant families to look on as a Proctor, one of the most respected bards and advisors to the nobility, danced and capered to elicit the small children’s laughter.

“For every traveler finding a moment of happiness in a very, very dark world.”

    Another shift, and they were back inside that Pirate Clan hall from the cycle before. The clan leader’s even now bickering over some new matter while a storm shook the windows with a ferocity to rival gods.

“For every lost soul seeking their destiny.”

    Another shift, and they watched animals trek across a desert she had never heard of before. 

    Another, and she watched women in chitinous armor like nothing she had ever seen fighting off a pack of odd horned creatures three times their own size.

    Another, and Vyrn showed her a redheaded child carrying a younger black haired girl through a snowstorm.  Both of them wore odd flowing garments, all of them covered in blood, most of it not their own. As Maya gasped at the heart wrenching sight, the boy turned to look at them through the blizzard. His left eye was a deep, impenetrable black as it locked onto the two ghostly figures, while his right eyelid struggled to cover the bloodsoaked chasm occupying the other side of his young, shattered visage.

    Another, and the shifts stopped. 

Falling to her knees, Maya stomach lost the small amount of finger food she had scrounged from the nobility’s gathering. Tears fell to the pristine silver moongrass alongside her mess as she tried to forget and remember what she had seen of the young boy and what she assumed was his sister.

His face… Oh, god how was he even moving?!

Lifting her trembling hands from the forest floor Maya did her best to gather herself and get a handle on their new surroundings. Looking around, Maya felt her mouth fall open as she gazed upon strange trees, massive ropy trunks growing into illogical shapes all around the dirt and strange grass filled clearing. Looking into the treetops she could see a few dim lights coming from the abodes resting there. Mind slowly beginning to wrap around where she was, Maya spun, looking for it. That one feature that would confirm her suspicions crowded out all thoughts of the heart wrenching scenes she had seen, at least for now.

    And there it was.

    The Waystone stood tall, its weatherbeaten exterior defiant in the face of all that nature had thrown at it over thousands of cycles. No moss or plants of any kind hid the innumerable symbols covering the monolithic stone, which stood nearly one hundred rist tall. 

“This…. This is…”

    Maya’s voice trembled. Tears formed at the corners of her eyes, but she refused to blink, lest she miss a single moment of the vision that stood before her. Vyrn slowly walked up beside her, the awestruck girl failing to notice the sound of leaves crunching beneath their feet.

“That’s right little robin.”

    She spun, tears still in her wide eyes at the name from so long ago, but the words stuck in her throat.

    Vyrn stood with his head upturned to the full moon, his eyes lightly shut. He lifted his palms towards their surroundings and slowly filled his chest with a breath that seemed to fill him with…. Everything. Maya could feel the world around them pouring into the sad, sad man before her, and with it came a broken smile on his suddenly weathered face.

    And yet.... She found herself matching his challenging smile with one of her own.

“This is my home. The storm torn Isle of Sadras.”

    His smile deepened as he turned and gestured towards the Waystone. Maya could barely contain the grin now as he continued.

“Or more specifically, the Southern Academy of Ie’nun. The House of Blades. The place where we train human monsters to fight the monsters clawing at our borders, desperate for blood and death.”

Turning his head skyward once more with a wildness eating into his eyes, Vyrn’s voice boomed out from him, shaking even those mighty trunks with its force as he declared,

“Welcome to Ie’Sadran little robin. Are you ready to fly?”