Of Shadows & Stars

[Soulserenity20]

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For thousands of years the gods have existed in balance. Six of the divine, one for each of the six sacred elements. Fire, water, earth, air, light, and darkness.
Two races have risen up from these elements. The first, of the shadows. The Drauga exist within the dominion of the elements of Fire, Earth, and Darkness. The second, of the stars. The Ylraa exist within the dominion of the elements of Water, Air, and Light. These magical races have lived in peace throughout the ages of the gods.

Every one thousand years, the age will turn and the six gods step into the next stage of their life-cycle, moving from shrine to shrine as they grow to power and choose the form in which they will manifest in the Age of Time. Balance has long kept this cycle in rhythm, but all balance is at risk, for all balance, is fragile.

The god of darkness, Euvaran the Forgotten, nears his hour of dominion over Maharan. The other gods have sensed a twisted darkness growing in the Shrine of Fortitude and have grown fearful of the dark god's intent. He seeks control, possession, imbalance in his favor, and above all else: power.

In response to the rising darkness, the Gods have summoned forth two great Heroes of Ages and given them gifts of powerful mana and great luck, will, strength, and wit. Graced by the gods and reared by a pious people, they were bred to fulfill their most dire and dangerous fate.

Once more the Heroes of Ages are resurrected to combat the forces of ruination: one of shadows and one of stars.

Our heroes venture to the place where the Elders of the Elements abide, deep in the forgotten woods of Elyra. Only there will their path be made known. ​

 

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Aegald

When Aegald awoke he felt numb. Wrapped tightly in his tattered woolen cloak, hands tucked firmly between folded arms, with only his bushy beard and hooked nose peering from the hood, he had not expected to find himself chilled down to the bone. Moving cold, stiff muscles, the elf propped himself up on his elbows and shoved upward, the soft sand providing just enough support to leverage himself into an upright seated position. Letting out a ragged breath, watching it coil and steam in the air, Aegald grimaced as he saw the fire weathered down to embers. Hauling himself up from the edge of his narrow dip in the ground, the woodsman momentarily stumbled, legs still half asleep, and sat by the fire to warm his hands, relishing in the tingling sensation of circulation returning as the ash-white charcoals vented out heat.

Eäna awoke not much later than he, and with little conversation, the pair packed what little belongings had been set aside and left. Outside the bleak, green-grey landscape remained unchanged. A fresh layer of snow had crusted the earth, burying any traces of life in the process. If the Tygan had not tried so fervently to kill him, Aegald might have called it enchanting or majestic, but all he saw was the brutal landscape attempting to deceive him into passivity. When he gave the temple one last look as they exited the clearing, Aegald could have sworn he could just barely catch a glimpse of the sun from between the peaks of the pines. Then a cloud in the grey overcast sky shifted and the light faded.

As the two pressed deeper into the Tygah once again, the snow drifts became deeper, the white flakes continuing to add to the pile as they continued. Now at ankle height, just enough to make walking difficult, the snow made it evident they would not make much ground this day.

"These woods are starting to feel like home, Aegald. I fear we've been here for too long. Perhaps we ought to recall our true homes. Tell me of yours, if you would."

The elf pondered the question for a long moment. It had been ages since he had considered his home, what his life before vague prophecies of heroism had been like. For over three years now he had been wandering, first the forests of Esendar, and then the trek north with Eäna had begun. Before that, he was a pupil in Nevriathel.

"I remember our trips into town," Aegald finally stated gruffly, adding in a hoarse chuckle. "My 'pap wasn't one for much of the village gossip, but 'bout once every month or so we would stock up what we'd caught and carry it into town. I was always in charge 'o settin' up our stand in the market square, with my sisters off with my 'ma to purchase what we needed while my brothers were left to do what they want."

A smile came to the man's stoic face.

"There was one time, my 'lil sister, couldn't 'o been more 'an twelve or thirteen, comes runnin' with a bow in her hand, proudly showin' it off. Thing is, it's about twice her height, so it's draggin' against the ground, and my 'ma comes running after her, lookin' just as pleased. She'd been saving the coin for about two seasons, and the way my father looked at her, it was as if she'd confessed to scuttlin' our boat or leaving the fish to rot. Hate to say it, but she became better 'an I ever did by the time I left

"Aye, but Caygrove was a pleasant enough dot on the map. Esendar's a big province, lots of folks came down to our 'lil fishing stop plenty of times. We even had a Drauga come once, bringin' with him one of those..." A pause. "Azyran? Azyren? Ayren? Name eludes me. But he told me 'bout some mage lookin' for pupils out north in Nevriathel, and I was a discontent youth. It was a fine city, if a tad big for my tastes."

Aegald sank into silence then, and Eäna pressed him no further.

When the sun hung directly overhead, the two stopped momentarily for a brief rest and a meal before continuing ever onward.

"Ah, so we meet the north, the true north. Surely we draw near our destination. The snow harbingers the realm of the old gods and within that realm lay the temple of the Elders of the Elements," Eäna accentuated the statement with a deep breath of relief.

"Could be too it's just damn cold," Aegald offered dryly, secretly wishing his companion was correct. His woolen cloak could only do so much to keep the cold out, even as he kept it tucked tightly against him, the hood propped up and his cowl pulled over his nose. As if to mock him, the falling snow thickened and began to seep into the gaps between his cloak and his tunic.

"We ought to press on until we can find some form of shelter. We can craft snowshoes out of bark to help keep up atop the snow if it grows too deep. I never thought to bring mine. How are you holding up?"

"'Bout as well as can be expected," the woodsman replied, doing what he could to keep the falling snow away from his body.

As the snow's fall from the grey skies above continued to increase in pace, the air around them thickened to the point that a white fog seemed to envelop the woods, dotted through with wildly plummeting flecks of snow. Aegald could no longer feel anything from his knees and below, his fingers stiff and sore from holding the cloak to him. His dried lips cracked in the cold, and his tongue had grown accustomed to the taste of blood while his nose had grown red and irritated despite its covering.

"But I doubt we're finding another conveniently placed temple here."

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Eäna

Laughing lightly at the man's remark, Eäna recalled the temple and how unusual it had been to have stumbled across it. It was as if some kind of fate were driving them along their way, stopping them off at various locations and experiences meant to thicken their adventure, making them seem more like heroes than lost, miserable travelers. Miserable, well at least one of them seemed to be as such. Eäna was used to the cold, fond of the cold. This wasn't to say she didn't often feel the effects of it nor that she didn't long for refuge from it, but she could hardly complain when in the company of a southerner. She took a collect a rather thick branch and break it down to a more manageable size before igniting the end with a spark of here mana. She could sustain a torch for hours with little effort, allowing the fire to feed off her mana, instead of its natural fuel source. Handing it to Aegald, she hoped it would help warm him, despite it being more than bright enough out for them to see.

"Let that warm you, if you wish. Perhaps you'll climb a tree when your hands are more nimble and see what you can spot about the forest, hmm? We've been wandering blind for too many days."

She had come to grow fond of the man. He was quiet, rugged, and miserable at times, but he was kind and sincere. This brought Eäna comfort, knowing that he had a strong character about him. His stories from along the way, however short and abruptly ended they may have been, had allowed her to see past the rough exterior of the southerner, if only for a small while. She had grown fond of his company and had come to trust his judgments, for he had shown her several times that he was sharp of mind, both witty and wise. He had held his own in battle, saved her own hide more than once, and above all, he had never given her reason not to trust him. He was like an old novel, worn and dusty, hard to read but never deliberately hiding his story. She only needed to find a way to read the worn lettering and understand the foreign words.

"I'll wait here and get a fire going. We can make a soup from what little provisions we have left." In her mind she scoffed and shook her head coldly at just how little they did have left. A meager soup it would be.
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Aegald

Aegald gladly accepted Eäna's magically-enhanced torch, gingerly placing it behind a segment of his cloak to protect the kindling flame from incoming wind, half-expecting the faintly crackling wood to burn him or his cloak upon contact. Almost instantly he could feel the tingling sensation of circulation returning to his hands as he cradled the branch, marveling again at the woman's delicate knack for magic. Her manipulations of mana ranged from the obvious to the remarkably practical. As Eäna began to settle down in a small, relatively unmarked, patch of snow, Aegald seated himself atop a fallen log, barely registering the cold snow and ice that had been deposited over the wood. As he waited for blood to begin flowing to his hands, the woodsman kicked his feet to shake the loosest clumps of snow off, leaving the more stubborn patches untouched.

Winters back in Caygrove had never been half this brutal. Aegald was already well a grown man by the time he had seen his first snowfalls around the more central regions of the province, and he had never quite grown accustomed to winters spent without the warm sea air to offset the frigid gales from the north. This, however, was something different entirely. The cold deprive him of his senses, his flexibility, his legs even. Every step was a battle between himself and the elements, each footfall leaving tell-tale evidence of his passing only to be covered again in a mound of fresh snow.

Thicker cloak, he mused to himself, rousing the will to stand.

With his hands functional (if not exactly comfortable), Aegald clambered up the log he had seated himself upon as far as it would go. The once-standing pine continued for about two or three meters before it ended, the bulk of its surface balanced upon an outcropping of rock. From this vantage point the woodsman could easily propel himself over to the nearest pine. Finishing his climb to the top of the angled log, Aegald marked his target - a tree about a meter away from the log's side - and made for it with a running start, leaping nimbly up and barely managing to catch himself around the pine.

Aegald let out a sharp gasp of breath and gave himself a moment to recover, cold muscles wailing in protest at the sudden strain as they held him to the tree. Gnashing his teeth in agitation, feeling his hands going numb again already, the woodsman began to scale the tree, ensuring to keep his movements short and purposeful as to avoid tempting fate. In little over two minutes he stood at the peak of the tree, legs spread wide, feet balanced upon two sturdy branches. He cast a look around, scanning for any obvious landmarks or notable features. With the sun almost directly overhead, Aegald could only gauge direction by the lonely mountain in the west. Finding it about where he expected it, the woodsman looked up towards the sun and traced about where "east" would be. The pair still had quite a bit of daylight left to them, perhaps five or six hours or usable traveling time, but with no way of telling where this temple was save for "east", he could not say if they would arrive today, tomorrow, in a week, a month, or a year.

Aye, conversation for another time.

The woodsman descended and approached Eäna, grabbing his torch from where he had left it by the log.

"We're still headin' in the right direction, but I've no way of knowing when we'll eventually hit where we need to go," He seated himself upon the ground, using a bit of wind magic to fan the flames of his torch before planing it in the snow beside him. "But as long as we don't meet anything that'll knock us off our path, we should find it one way or another. Big question isn't if, but when..."

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Eäna

The journey pushed on for days after that. They ventured northward, pressing on each day as the great snowy blanket that cloaked the landscape thickened with each passing mile. The colder it got, the quieter her companion seemed to grow. She, on the other hand, seemed to feel more alive in the brisk air of the north. She could almost have been said to be enjoying it, had she been there on more willful terms. There was always the sobering reminder of her "great duty" to dampen her blissful thoughts.

For some time, they lacked food. Nearly two days they went without finding so much as a rodent or bird to snare or shoot. When they finally did find meat, a den of fat rodents, the likes of which she had never before seen, they were careful to dry and stash some for later, should they fall from fortune's favor once more. She hadn't thought of it herself. She was too hungry when at last they pulled the skewered meat from the fire. It was Aegnor that willed self-control and thought of the future, not she. He was wise, always thinking of what she forgot, preparing and planning. The blood of survival coursed through his veins, this was clear.

After their 4th day of journeying onward, they realized they had almost certainly gone too far north. Frustrated, they backtracked and readjusted their trail, heading father east at Aegald's recommendation from his sight above the treetops. She would owe him her life by the end of their journey for 7 days after their departure from the temple, they at last came upon the majesty of their destination. It would have been a much longer journey without him, perhaps eternally so.

When at last they stepped foot onto the dark, roan cobblestone path that led to an ancient and massive temple, Eäna felt relief sweeping over her. It was exactly as it had been described: black stone walls with mighty, red-wood fixtures and supports. Brilliant designs wrapped around the building, set into the dark stone. They were cosmic maps, shining still, if not a bit dulled by neglect, that were told to hold the journey of the gods through the ages within them. To Eäna there were little more than beautiful swirls and curves, but she sensed an aura of old wisdom, power, even, coming from the structure.

As they neared, they were met with the deep, soothing bell toll that seemed to draw the open air to a deep tremble. Casting a glance to the Ylraan at her side, she began making her way up the old terraces. At each one, there rested a quiet pool, fed by a stream that trickled down from the higher levels. The first was a dark blue, the next a shade of green, the next a deep brown, then red, umber, and gold. It was dazzling, and the organic styling of the architecture. The terraces appeared as a natural part of the landscape and the flow of the pathway, its wooden rails, its chiming bells ringing out into the air. It was a magical place that seemed to call to her. As they peaked over the last of the rises, a great, wooden door sat open in wait and waiting nearby was a small child, no more than 8. The boy wore a golden robe that faded into a deep bronze at the hem. Though simple in design, it was elegant and beautiful.

As they approached, he bowed, his bald head dipped low.

Eäna smiled, charmed with the boy's manners. "Hello." She said quietly, bowing in return. "I am-"

"Eäna." The boy finished her sentence. Then, looking to her companion he said, "and you are Aegald. We are most pleased of your safe arrival. We had grown worried, with how long you were taking, but it seems our patience has paid off. Please, come. You are expected." He gestured and led them into the belly of the temple.​

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Aegald

"Why, if the Divine exist, do they allow Darkness to reign?" Aegald asked, calmly shutting the aged tome his mother had handed him. Outside, the subdued rustle of drying autumn leaves in wind sounded, and if he focused, Aegald could hear the distant din of waves breaking upon the bay.

His mother laughed softly and sat behind her son, resting her chin on the young elf's head and taking the book out of his lap, opening it with the crinkling sound of well-worn pages. She flipped to a page, its corner torn and the edges frayed. Aegald watched his mother's movements keenly, admiring the intricate ink work on the page. It depicted a black murder of crow blotting out a full moon - beneath the swarm stood a wraithlike figure, its limbs extended to unrealistic proportions. A pale blue skull rested where the creature's face might have been.

"Your question is one many struggle with," his mother finally spoke. She turned the page thrice and tapped a blue skull not too unlike the one on the earlier page. "That is Darkness," her finger traced around the circle, resting on a stylized rendition of the sun. "That is Light," her finger continued. "Fire, water, earth, and-"

"Alaern!" Aegald called excitedly, recognizing the great falcon. "Air!"

His mother chuckled again and kissed Aegald upon the forehead. "Very clever, that's Alaern. Alright, now what's that say?"

Her finger came to rest on a line of script at the top of the page.

"Ages come and pass, tales are remembered to be forgotten, empires built and ground to dust," he stated, drawing out each syllable. "Time both sows and reaps, and it too passes on."

"Do you understand?" She asked.

"No," the boy stated truthfully.

"You will one day. Come now, I think that's your father coming home I hear..."

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"Ages come and pass," Aegald muttered under his breath as the pair approached the temple.

The woodsman felt an innate sensation of awe as he trudged forward, indescribable in its sheer breadth. He heard the distant echo of bells, admired the breathtaking and painstakingly detailed structures, felt the crunch of fresh snow under his boots, smelled the scent of still and pure air. In all his decades of life, he had yet to experience serenity as complete as this. For a moment, he could even forget the bitter sting of the frigid winter wind and aching hunger in his belly.

"Hello," Aegald was suddenly snapped back to reality as his companion spoke. Before them stood a young boy, bald, dressed in flowing gold and bronze. "I am-"

"Eäna, and you are Aegald. We are most pleased of your safe arrival. We had grown worried, with how long you were taking, but it seems our patience has paid off. Please, come. You are expected."

Expected? And how did the boy know his name? Aegald mulled the question over, realizing that even minor nobility knew their names. Well, perhaps Eäna's. The woodsman had never been one for blind faith in the gods, despite all evidence to their very prominent role in the world, and the notion of prophecies and "chosen ones" still sounded more like the workings of some storybook author, not reality. But here he was, with a woman trained in the arcane, leagues away from home, following a boy no older than ten into an ancient temple far away in the woods. How many had made this voyage before them? Aegald had heard stories of various Heroes of the Age venturing to seek the advice of this deity or that, but none had ventured with another, and only a handful went on to visit more than one temple.

"What, what is this place?" Aegald croaked.

"I believe you know already," the boy replied calmly, offering the woodsman a small smile. "It is one of many destinations laid before you."

Were any answers in the stories, the sagas, and the songs straightforward?

"Aye," the woodsman stated meekly.

As the trio continued, the temple's doors came into sight. They stood an impressive five meters tall and half as wide, their face carved from a thin layer of raw stone striped with bands of well-kept wood. The impurities of the stone had been left within the doors themselves, but Aegald spotted no handles, knockers, or bars with which to open them. At the child's approach, the stone faded away, then then a wall of wind snuffed out - as they approached, another layer of the elements faded until they were left with a wide, open floor. A vaulted ceiling towered over their heads as they entered, an ornate depiction of the cosmos etched and painted across its surface. On either side stood six pillars topped with a glowing sphere. The inky black orb shone the brightest, a dull purple light that throbbed slowly. The others, by contrast, were no brighter than embers from a dead flame.

"Each one of these stars," the boy suddenly spoke up, gesturing to the ceiling, "represents the soul of a hero who has come before you. Though their legends have long since been lost, they are immortalized within these walls."

Tales are remembered to be forgotten.

"But I get ahead of myself, come, come, this way - you are-"

"Expected," Aegald interjected.

"Ah, yes, you are indeed."

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