#enderafluff

[spicylief]

Balm

Warning: A bit of citrus

-Two Years Later-

“Well, that should be everything for the evening.” 

Everyone was scheduled. Each person had a role. Now all that was left was to ensure everything ran smoothly.

Setting the quill aside, Laches let out a relaxed sigh and closed the notebook in front of her. As steadily as she could lest her joints object, she stood up from her chair and raised her arms upwards, folding her fingers together and allowing the tired, old muscles in her shoulders a stretch. The cool sea breeze wafted past her neck and she shivered, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders before stepping over to the window. Her hand trailed along the rim of the frame, and for a moment she thought to close the shutters. Upon looking out towards the ocean sunset, she stopped herself. 

Laches allowed herself a moment to enjoy the cosmic beauty. The gradient of rich, vibrant colors that weaved across the evening sky reminded her of home, stirring a memory within her of a life that was no more.

A memory of a time where she could do so much more - create things of greater meaning - than the radiant display before her.

“Hey! Wait!” Laches heard Raja yell from down the hall, snapping her out of her nostalgia.

“I said she is not taking any appointments tonight!” Enki’s voice followed. “Ser, please! Come back!” 

In the distance, Laches could hear the sound of hurried footsteps, accompanied by startled shrieks and yelling as doors were opened and closed. Hearing the handle shake, Laches turned around just as her door swung open. Stumbling into her office was a slovenly young man, dressed in ragged leather combat fatigues. His shaggy hair and untamed beard were a mess, with his blonde tresses stained with dirt and what she suspected was his own dried sickness. Much to her annoyance, his boots had tracked in muddy prints onto the fancy Qyranian rug underneath them.

Nevertheless, Laches stood before him with an air of professionalism. “Ser?”

“Are…” the young man slurred, wavering where he stood. His breath carried a strong smell of cheap wine. “Are y-you the ‘Matron’?”

‘He’s drunk.’

“I am.” Laches answered, her voice even. “Excuse me, ser. But-”

Fumbling at his belt, the young man grabbed a pouch that jingled and tossed it weakly towards her. It fell to the floor, spilling out coins. “I… I need your help,” he gasped, before falling to his side and leaning against the doorframe. He held his head in pain. “I… please.”

‘Very drunk.’

“I am sorry, ser, but,” Laches returned, approaching him warily. “We are fully booked tonight.”

Anxious pale blue eyes stared up at her. His lips quivered. “But I was told…” The man paused and began to cough, and for a moment the older woman feared that he was going to be ill. Once he managed to catch his breath, he took a swig of the bottle he had with him before continuing. “I was told that,” he swallowed, ”that If I came to you with enough money, you could help me.” He slid down the frame and onto the floor, falling to his knees. He gestured a hand at the mess of coins on the ground. “Is that enough? Please tell me that’s enough,” he whimpered, cradling the bottle against his chest. It was then that Laches realized upon closer inspection - he was crying.

That did not stop her from pressing him for some much needed answers. 

“You were told? By whom?” Laches asked firmly, her brow furrowing. Not many of the common folk in Ostian knew of her and her network, much less the full extent of its offerings. At the very least, most believed her and those under her employ were nothing more than simple healers and caretakers. Those who were aware of all she had to offer were either easily accommodated, high-ranking government officials, traveling merchants, or wealthy outlanders that were simply passing through the city.

And all of them knew - if they wished to continue enjoying her services - to keep their blasted mouths shut, especially around those deluded zealots of the Creator's Temple. 

“How did you find this place?” the old woman added. “Who led you here?”

Laches had to find out. To protect not just herself, but her children as well.

“Some,” the man slurred, “Some woman in the city.” His voice shook in frustration. “She told me to come here and seek you out, saying you’ll be able to help me.”

Before Laches had a moment to respond, her enforcers finally arrived. 

“Mistress! A hundred apologies.” Enki came in with a huff. “He just rushed right past us as we were dealing with the other guests.”

Raja reached for the young man, pulling him upwards by his arm. “Come with me, ser.”

“Wait, no!” the man cried, flailing as the stout Kiléan man attempted to remove him from her office. His bottle fell out of his hands. Red wine spilled onto the rug. “Please! Matron! Help me!”

“Boys, wait.” Laches instructed, raising a hand. As Raja allowed the man to crumple back onto the floor, she knelt before him. “Where did you meet this woman?” she asked calmly, tilting her head down to face him.

“I...I don’t know, somewhere by the sea...the harbor,” the man answered, sniffling. “She woke me up while I was taking a nap.”

“Probably passed out in some alley,” Raja remarked snidely from behind him.

“He does stink of wine and vomit,” Enki added with a sigh, pinching his nose.

“Quiet, you two,” Laches snapped at them, casting them a stern look. As they stilled themselves, she returned her attention back to the poor creature before her. “Can you describe this woman?” she asked, her voice softer for the weeping man.

“I don’t. I don’t know,” he answered, rubbing his eyes as he struggled to remember. “The sun was behind her, and she was wearing…” He coughed. “She was wearing a thick black shawl, much like yours,” he added. “I... I didn’t see her face.”

‘A shawl like mine…’

‘A veil?’

‘Was it you?’

“Hmm.” Laches felt the worry for her children roll off her shoulders. Instead, the feeling of dread was now replaced with wild confusion and an intense curiosity.

‘You led him here? Why?’

“Please, mydame. Please, just… help me.” The young man wept before her. “Help me.”

‘’Mydame’? An Endralean? Who…’ Laches’ eyes widened ever so slightly. ‘Who is this boy?’

“Young man…”

“Please, I can’t-” The man began to cough once more, choking on his sobs. “I tried everything I could to forget… to forget everything. Drink, droga...” he groaned, once his throat cleared. “That woman… She said who you were and the... services you offer.” He sniffed. “I don't know what else to expect apart from the usual - based on all the… encounters I’ve had before.” He looked up at her desperately. “But she… she insisted that I find you, and that you’d be able to help me before I...” The man stopped himself. 

The old woman grimaced.

‘What are you playing at, sister?’ she wondered. ‘Is he...?’

"I can't live like this, please," the young man whimpered, burying his face in his hands. “Help me. Help me forget what I’ve done... the horrors I witnessed.” He sobbed, trembling at her feet. “They haunt me… in my dreams... every damned night. I just want to forget... even for a moment.”

“My dear…” 

“Please.”

Laches reached a hand out to him. She tilted his head up by his chin, bringing him face to face with her.

“Look at me, child,” she ordered.

The young man did as he was told.

She stared into him. She searched him - inside and out, forward and back. 

‘You…’

Her lips thinned.

‘I see.’

Breaking eye contact with him momentarily, Laches looked up at her two enforcers and gave them a nod. The two men bowed obediently and wordlessly left her office to resume their duties at the front. She then returned her attention back down to the young man, picking up his wine bottle and recorking it before handing it back to him. Standing back up, Laches reached out her hand and helped him onto his feet.

“Follow me, ser.” 

Laches guided the young man through the manor, taking great care of him as they climbed up the steps, ensuring he did not fall in his drunken state. She took him to one of the bedrooms at the end of the fourth floor hall, opening the door for him before ushering him inside.

“Please, make yourself at home,” Laches offered with a courteous bow, directing him towards the bed. “Someone will be with you shortly.”

“Thank you.”

---

‘Here it is.’

Maera stood before the door, staring at the number in trepidation. She turned to glance down the hallway, hoping Sirius was standing at the end to provide her moral support before she entered. But her brother was not there. After all, he could not be there. He had his own shift that evening and his own duties to fulfill.  

It was fairly quiet in the hall, save for the sounds of muffled giggling, moaning and other such noises of wanton pleasure. Despite the muted sounds of others frolicking behind every single closed door on that floor, Maera felt completely and utterly alone. She returned her attention back to the door in front of her, clutching the lilac-colored robe tightly around her. She touched her face. Sirius said he used only a little bit of makeup on her, but it felt weird and stifling and she felt extremely uncomfortable. She looked down at herself. The leather collar she wore itched and the silver bangles and anklets chilled her as they clinked against her skin.

The damned robe barely went past her thighs.

She felt cold.

She felt exposed.

‘I don’t want to be here.’

Taking a deep breath, Maera raised her hand.

She knocked on the door.

“Ser?” 

Moments passed. No response.

“Ser? Are you in there?”

Maera waited. Nothing. Leaning her ear against the door, she listened. Inside she could hear a very faint snore, accompanied by the occasional cough and muffled groan. ‘Maybe I should just let him be?’ she thought to herself. She then shook her head at the notion. ‘No. I can’t. He paid for me. I have to... tend to him.’  

She grimaced. 

‘Whether I want to or not.’

Opening the door as quietly as she could, Maera peeked her head into the room. It was dark, save for the soft amber glow of the candles resting atop the window sill as well as the bedside table. Expecting to find the man sleeping on the bed, she instead found him passed out on the floor facing her, curled up in a fetal position. She entered the room, closing the door behind her before approaching him.

As she drew near, Maera kept her eyes on the slumbering man. He was dressed in a linen shirt and leather pants, both stained and worn. To her dismay, she immediately picked up the smell of rancid wine, stale vomit, and other unpleasant odors that she did not wish to think too much upon. Gazing down upon his face, she found his beard untamed and filthy, appearing as though it had not been taken care of in months. His hair - which she suspected to be a lighter tone underneath the dried mud and grime - was wild and in some areas matted, reminding Maera of a dog that has been neglected for far too long.  Nearby, she spotted his muddied leather boots and gambeson, tossed aside and both looking to be in desperate need of repair and cleaning. 

If this had been any other occasion, Maera could have easily mistaken him for a beggar, or a drunken vagrant at the very least. 

‘This is the man that paid for my first night.’ 

Kneeling at his side, Maera reached out a hand. As she neared him, she hesitated, doubting once again whether or not to wake him. She wondered what kind of man he was. Was he a cruel man? A kind one? How would he treat her? Would he hurt her? Force her to do things that she was truly not ready to do? Or will she be lucky enough that he will be considerate with her? Gentle, even?

‘None of that matters, remember?’ Maera anxiously recalled the Matron’s words over the years. ‘Unless my life and physical well-being were threatened, none of it matters. I was bought for the night. I am to do as he desires. It’s business. Nothing else.”

Despite her trembling, Maera gingerly rested her hand upon the man’s shoulder.

“Ser?” she murmured, giving him a gentle shake. “Ser, wake up.”

Upon hearing her voice, the man let out a low groan. Pulling her hand away, Maera watched as he winced, his eyelids tightening before opening. He gazed up at her.

“Wh-who,” the man slurred with a groan, rubbing one of his eyes with the ball of his hand. “Who are you?”

“The Matron sent me,” Maera answered, her voice quiet. “I’m here to take care of you.”

The man blinked, looking at her in a confused daze. “Oh… right,” he mumbled, before sitting up. He looked around himself, and grabbed the wine bottle that had been laying nearby. Uncorking it, he attempted to take a swig before pulling it away, looking down the neck for whatever was left. “Sorry, I was just...restin’ my eyes,” he added, before leaning back further for the last few gulps.

"It’s alri-” The moment Maera responded, the man began to cough, choking on his wine. She edged away from him as he covered his mouth with one hand, beating his chest with the other in an attempt to clear his throat. As he continued to struggle, Maera stood up and hurried over to a nearby dresser, where a number of cups and a pitcher of water had been set up. Returning to him with a full glass, she knelt down beside him. “Here,” she offered. “Drink this instead. You’ll feel better.”

The man glanced at the cup in her hand. “What,” he asked hoarsely between coughs, “what is it?”

“Water.”

“Oh.” He took the glass. “Th-thank you,” he murmured, before taking a steady sip.

As the man drank, Maera simply sat and waited. She kept her eyes downcast, side-eying him as discreetly as she could lest he find her stares off-putting. Upon closer inspection, she noticed the dark bags under his pale blue eyes, with the whites red in irritation. She recognized the trails left behind by tears on his cheeks, which were stained with filth.

For a moment, Maera forgot her fear. She could not help but wonder. ‘What happened to you?’

“You’re shaking,” the man remarked. It was then Maera noticed he had been staring at her hands. “Are you okay?”

“I…” Looking down at her palms, Maera sighed and clasped her hands together, hoping to stop the trembling. “I’m alright,” she answered, crossing her arms protectively across her chest. She rubbed her hands along her sleeves. “I’m just cold.”

The man raised a hand and reached for her, lightly stroking her shoulder with the top of his forefinger. At his touch, Maera felt a heavy pit form in her belly, and she fought the urge to shy away in fear of offending him. Her chest tightened, and she suddenly found it hard to breathe.

‘I don’t want to do this.’ Her mind immediately started to panic. ‘I’m not ready.’

Steeling herself, Maera returned her gaze to the man's face. Though his expression remained apathetic and weary, his eyes examining her from head to toe made her skin crawl. “It is rather chilly this evening, isn’t it?” he murmured, as though talking to himself. He looked up to face her - piercing blue met verdant green. “Maybe…” he swallowed. ”Maybe we should try and keep each other warm?” 

Before Maera had a moment to respond, the man reached for her hand and pulled her over, guiding her onto his lap. He buried his face into her neck, and began planting warm kisses on her collarbone. Maera groaned as his beard scratched her. While one of his hands stroked her thigh, the other held her tightly against him. She felt him through his ragged clothes, already half-mast between her legs. 

“Oh...” Maera felt her insides tingle and grow warm. Though her body could not help but find excitement at the contact, her fear lingered. She closed her lips, stifling a whimper.

“You’re,” the man murmured, “You’re so soft.” As he continued to kiss and nibble at her neck, he tightened his hold for a moment and laid her down on the floor underneath him, spreading her legs.  As he continued to nuzzle and nip her neck, she felt him harden against her, providing her with a mental image of what she was in for. She bit her lips, trying so hard not to respond despite her body’s confused reaction to his touch.

“Wait,” Maera gasped, feebly trying to delay the inevitable. “What about the bed?” she asked. Was he really going to take her on the floor? Right then and there? 

“This is fine,” he responded, hands roaming along her sides before coming up to the front of her robe. The man exposed her bosom with a tug on the sash, taking her breasts into his calloused hands. Giving them a tug and squeeze, his lips found one of her nipples and began to suckle. 

As his mouth sent anxious tingles down her spine, Maera felt the man twitch and writhe, stirring readily against her. She clenched her hands tightly at the sides of her head, trying so hard to resist the urge to push him away. She felt him stroking her inner thighs and she turned her head to the side, closing her eyes. He trailed his hands down, reaching for her underwear. One hand slid under the flimsy garment and began to stroke her bottom, before pulling back and cupping her between her legs.

“Aiie!”

“Ah! What in blazes!?” 

With a tiny startled yelp, Maera gave the man a reflexive shove, attempting to push him off of her. Realizing instantly what she had done, she looked up at him, eyes wide in terror, only to find the look of hurt and confusion on his face.

“Hey… “ The man stared at her, dumbfounded by her reaction. “Are...are you okay?” he asked, “Did I hurt you?”

Maera did not respond. She could not find it in herself to respond. Instead, all she did was bite her quivering lips and gaze right back at him, terrified over what he intended to do next.

‘I can’t do this. Gods, please, I can’t do this.’

The man kept his eyes on her. In them, Maera could see his drunken haze slowly ebbing away.

He was sobering up.

“Wait a minute…” The man sat up quickly, putting distance between them. Unlike the tired look he had given her previously, the man simply stared at her, his eyes wide. She felt him searching her face, making her even more nervous than before. He was offended by her reaction - Maera was certain. After all, he paid to do as he pleased with her, did he not? Sitting herself back up, she watched as his expression turned from utter bewilderment to anxious distress.

“How…” The man’s voice was shaking. "How old are you?”

‘What?’ Maera was not expecting that question. “I…”

“Answer me,” the man insisted, his voice raised and firm.

“Eighteen,” Maera replied immediately, wincing at his tone. “Eighteen, ser, as of three moons ago.”

Her answer seemed to calm him, but only a bit. “Have you ever…?“ 

Maera noted that his voice had softened, likely in response to her. She shook her head. “No,” she answered, rubbing her arm in discomfort. “You’d be my first client.”

The man stared at her. After a moment, he leaned back against the side of the bed, covering his face in his hands.

“Shit.”

“Please, ser,” Maera began, stroking the back of her neck as anxiety crept up her spine. “I’m sorry for how I responded. I didn't mean to offend you,” she explained, “I’m just…nervous.”

“Of course you are,” he sighed, his voice muffled by his palm. “You’re just a child.”

Maera’s lips tightened. She felt stung by his remark. “I am not,” she muttered indignantly. “I haven’t been… not for a long time.”

“You might as well be. Like you said, you’re a maid. You’ve never… done this sort of thing,” the man argued back.

“You mean sex?” Maera mumbled, her voice small.

“Whatever.” His hands dropped to his sides and he tilted his head up towards the ceiling. “By the Sun, what was that old woman thinking?” he groaned.

As the cool air made her feel overexposed, Maera closed her robe, pulling it snug around her chest and tying the sash. “Ser, I’m sorry,” she pleaded, her eyes cast down in embarrassment. “Please don’t be angry with me or my Matron. I am of age, and I am here to…” She paused. What was she supposed to say? What could she say? Without upsetting him further?

“I’m not angry. I’m just…this is not…” At his anxious response, Maera gazed up at him. She was shocked by the withering look he gave as he stared at her. His brows were furrowed in distress and his eyes were glistening. He bit his lips and lowered his head. He covered his face in his hands once more. “You… I almost…blazing hells.”

“Ser?” Maera crawled over, seating herself on her knees before him. Tilting her head a bit to the side, she reached out to him. She was about to make the attempt to pull his hands away from his face, but stopped herself, afraid of how he would react to her touch. She let her hands fall helplessly to her side, uncertain of what to do to calm the poor man. He started to tremble. She could hear him sniffling, and a sob escaped his lips. 

‘He’s…’

The man gasped. “What am I doing here?” he cried, “What in blazes am I doing here?”

“Ser…" Without a second thought, Maera placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Please, calm down,” she urged gently.

The man dropped his hands from his face and looked at her, prompting her to pull her hand away. “How can I be calm?!" he wailed, "I nearly just-” Seeing her flinch at his raised voice, the man hushed himself. Maera's heart tightened upon seeing the despair welling in his eyes and the guilt lingering behind them. After a moment, he clenched them shut once more and looked away, covering his face once more. “Ugh… What is wrong with me?!” he whimpered, gasping between sobs.

“Please, ser." Maera tried once more to soothe him. Bringing herself closer to sit beside him, she placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. "Please don’t cry,” she murmured gently.  She took his hand into hers and stroked his knuckles with her thumb. “I am sorry. Please don’t be upset.”

At Maera's touch, the man lowered his other hand, and tilted his head up to meet her gaze. He searched her face, letting his tears fall. “You don’t understand. It’s not you. I…” He blinked and cast his sights down. "Fuck," he breathed and closed his eyes. Tugging his hand away from hers, he pulled his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his knees, burying his face inwards. "What do I do?”

“I…” Maera felt the need to say something, but her words failed her. Moments ago, the man terrified her simply by looking at her. But now, as she sat next to him and tried to comfort him, all she felt for him was worry and pity. “I don’t know,” she admitted quietly.  As he continued to weep, Maera tried to think of something to ease his anguish, even a little bit. But what could she do? 

After a few moments, the man finally spoke. “Listen, I’m sorry,” he murmured, “I… I should have never come here.” He lifted his head and gave Maera a tearful glance. “I just wanted,” he swallowed nervously, and cast his sights away from hers. “Maybe… maybe I should just get out of here.” 

“But ser…” Maera watched as the man tried to pick himself up. He wavered and stumbled back onto his rear. He groaned in pain and held his head, his mind evidently still affected by the wine. “Ser,” she continued, her voice gentle. “You’ve already paid for the room...and for me,” she reminded him. “You are free to do as you desire with me.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I just…” He lifted his head and tossed her a brief sideways glance. “I wasn’t expecting someone so...” He trailed off and turned his head away. “Nevermind.”

Maera reached out to him, placing her hand under his chin and guiding him back to face her. “Ser, please… ” she coaxed him gently. “Talk to me.”

The man’s gaze met hers. Though sadness remained in his weary blue eyes, his anxiety has faded - only slightly - as though relieved by her show of sympathy. “When I heard you cry,” he began, his voice strained. “I… I just saw how scared you were, lying underneath me.”  He brought a hand up as tears continued to pour down his cheeks, wiping them away. “I could not help but think that I almost-" the man stopped himself, his eyes pleading with her.

"It's okay," Maera whispered softly. "I understand. You don't have to say it." She trailed her fingers along his chin, stroking his beard before cupping his cheek. At her touch, the man closed his eyes and more tears fell. He nuzzled his face ever so slightly against her palm, basking at the tiny bit of affection she offered. Maera felt her heart ache at the sight.

The man smiled weakly, grateful for her kindness. But the smile faded as quickly as it formed. "I…I don't…" He sniffed, holding back a sob. "I don't want to hurt or frighten you,” he explained, his voice low and trembling. He reached for her hand, pulling it away from his cheek and clasping it in between his own. “I know I am not exactly… at my best right now. But…” He brought them to his lips, as though kissing the top of her hand through his own. “I am not a monster,” he cried.

“I know…” Maera sighed, nudging her shoulder against his. As she allowed the man to weep and cradle her hand, she marveled at how much bigger his hands were. 

She was a tiny thing compared to him. 

If he truly wanted to, the man could have easily forced her to do what he wanted.

But he didn’t. 

Instead, the man sat beside her, weeping and wracked with guilt and horror at what he almost did to her - a younger, smaller woman, born in poverty, raised in servitude with nowhere else to go.

A mere slave. A nobody. A creature no different than countless others before and after her.

For a time, Maera remained quiet as the man continued crying, sobbing quietly against his hands with hers still held within. Part of her thought that perhaps she should pull her hand away, but she dismissed the idea as quickly as it came. The man was clearly suffering, and if this tiny gesture was bringing him any sort of comfort, she could not bring herself to deny him. She raised her free hand and began stroking the top of his, feathering her fingertips across his knuckles. After a couple pensive moments, Maera eventually found it in herself to speak. “So… what should we do?” she asked him. “From what I was told by the Matron, everyone else is booked solid tonight. No one else can take my place in taking care of you," she informed him. "I’m sorry to say this, but you’re stuck with me.”

“I…” The man sighed, pulling their hands down. His sights lingered upon them and he winced, closing his eyes. “I don’t know,”  he murmured, shaking his head. “I really don’t know.”

Maera bit her lips, her eyes drifting to the side in thought. She tried to remember any details she might have missed when Laches came to her earlier that evening, informing her of her appointment. “My Matron told me that you wanted me to ‘help you forget’,” Maera recalled out loud. She pulled her hands away from his, raising one to turn his face to meet hers. “I don’t know what you’ve gone through, and I don’t want to pressure you to tell me if it means bringing you pain,” she added, with a gentle stroke of his chin. “But...there must be something I can do to help you?”

“I… I’m not sure,” the man answered, his eyes drifting to the side in thought. “Do you have any ideas?”

“Hmm...” Maera tilted her head, roaming her eyes over the poor man in front of her. She stroked his beard, trailing his jawline with her fingers before gently weaving them into his wild, mangy locks.  “Well,” she resumed, her voice soft, “you do look to be... in a bit of a sorry state.”

Though his eyes remained sad, the man managed to give her a sheepish grin. ”It’s been... “ He managed a weak chuckle. “It’s been an exhausting couple years.”

“Mhm. Perhaps I can help you get cleaned up? I can bring you to one of the private bathing rooms we have for our guests and give you a nice scrub," Maera suggested, returning his smile. “I can even have someone launder your clothes for you. Complimentary, of course.” She slowly combed her fingers through his hair, careful not to pull further once she reached the parts that were matted. “Your hair seems to have some pretty blonde under all that buildup." She returned her hand to cup his cheek, stroking his beard with her thumb. "I can try and untangle that mess, if you’d like? Give it a wash?”

"Yeah…” The man’s eyes brightened at her offer. He blinked, allowing more tears to trickle down his cheeks. “Yeah... that sounds good,” he sighed, smiling.

“Alright.” Maera helped him to his feet. "Come with me." 

---

Steadied by her guiding hand, the man followed Maera to the other end of the manor. There, she requisitioned the use of one of the smaller rooms, along with a request to have the man's clothing laundered. As she listed the additional garments that had been left behind in the bedroom, she ignored the concerned and confused looks from those who did not expect her to be serving someone that night. Instead, upon receiving a set of grooming tools, towels and a robe, Maera simply thanked them and returned her attention to the man in her care. She saw the embarrassed look on his face. His eyes were downcast upon the floor, likely from the stares he was receiving. As she reached for his arm, the man looked at her and she gave him a reassuring smile, receiving one in return before she ushered him to their room.

Upon entering, Maera directed the man behind a set of wall dividers to undress, instructing him to place his clothes in the laundry basket by the door once he was done. Afterwards, she stepped over to the Starling-esque stone bath next to the window, and took a seat at the edge, turning the taps on the walls to begin filling it. Rolling up her sleeves, she ran her hand underneath the water, checking that it was not too hot before pouring in a couple cups of soothing salts from a bin nearby.

“So…” The man finally spoke from behind the dividers.

“Hmm?” Maera picked up one of the bottles resting atop the window sill, taking a whiff of one after another before finding one that had lavender oil. She added a couple spoonfuls into the water, followed by a sprinkling of eucalyptus powder. “Is everything okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, I was just wondering,” he continued, “What’s your name?”

“It’s um…” Maera trailed off, and glanced over her shoulder. The man was standing before her completely bare, save for his hands covering his genitals to spare her the sight. Though his skin was covered in grime and filth, she overlooked them and instead found herself eyeing all of the old bruises and fresh scars on his body. They very much reminded her of the scars on her back and her heart bled at the sight of him. The man has seen some terrible fighting - she knew for certain - and Maera could not help but wonder if he had been part of the bloodshed up at the northern border. She had only heard some of the gruesome details through the grapevine, and was informed by Laches that most of what she heard was not even the worst of it.

‘You poor thing. What happened to you?’

“Um...” The man looked at her worriedly. “Everything alright?”

“Huh? Oh!” His voice snapped her mind back to attention. “I’m sorry, ser, but...”

“Hmm?”

“I am not allowed to share my real name.”

“Is that so?” The man tilted his head in curiosity. She stood up and approached him, reaching for his free hand and leading him to take a seat in the washing basin next to the bath. “Why’s that?” he asked, “I’ve never heard of such a rule for a…” He paused for a moment, as though contemplating what to say next. “...an establishment such as this.”

Maera gave him an amused huff. “Safety precautions, I believe. Matron’s orders,” she replied. As he gave her a quizzical look, she simply shrugged. “I know, it's unusual. I don’t quite understand it myself. She tells us it’s for our protection, especially if members of the Creator’s Temple start snooping around.”

“I see.” The man’s gaze never left her as she moved about the room, gathering a bar of pine tar soap and a small vial from one of the cabinets. “Am I allowed to share mine?” he asked as she walked back to him. She set the cleansers down next to him and grabbed the bucket nearby, reaching over the bath to fill it under the taps.

“I’m not allowed to ask,” she replied. Maera dipped her hand in the water, doing one more check on the temperature. “Close your eyes and hold your breath. I’m going to give you a quick rinse.” The man did as she instructed, allowing her to slowly pour the water over his head and down his body. “It’s not too hot is it?” she asked.

He gave her a small shake of his head, wiping the water over his mouth lest he spray her when he spoke. “It’s fine,” he mumbled. She doused him a couple times more, loosening the filth. “But I am allowed to share mine, right?”

“It’s best if you don’t,” she answered, setting the bucket on the floor. She picked up the bar of soap and wet it under the faucet, rubbing it in between her hands.

“Oh?” The man wiped the water from his hair and eyes and peeked at her. “Why’s that?” 

She gave him a sad smile. “In case I get attached,” she explained. “Now, keep your eyes closed, otherwise this will sting.” 

Once the man did as she asked, Maera started to lather his hair. Much to her relief, it was not as difficult to untangle as she initially thought. With some patience, feather-light tugging with a comb, and adding a couple drops of coconut oil, the matting in his hair broke down and gave way after a couple minutes, allowing her to brush all the way to the ends. Dousing his head again with a bucket of water, she gave him another pass with the soap and oil, lathering and massaging his scalp for a thorough clean.

After Maera gave him one last rinse, the man wiped his face with his hand and slowly opened his eyes. Once he found himself able to see without risk of irritation, he looked at her, flashing her a subtle, flirtatious smile. “So, are you?" he asked.

“Hm?” 

"Getting attached?"

"I…" Maera gave him an awkward smile, and let out an amused breath through her nose. “I don't know yet.” Her fingers gingerly stroked the underside of his chin. "Although, you are starting to grow on me," she admitted timidly. “Now, for that beard.”

“Actually, I was wondering…” The man clasped her hand with his own before she pulled away. “Would you be okay with giving me a shave?” he asked. “I normally don’t let it get this wild. But lately I’ve just been, well… a little too preoccupied to take care of myself as of late, as you’ve noticed.”

“Oh! Of course!” Maera put the soap down and reached for the satchel with the grooming tools, pulling out a small brush and a container with shaving cream. She applied the latter generously onto his beard, making sure to pull his hair behind his ears to reach the more tricky areas under his jaw and neck. “Now, hold still,” she added, pulling out the blade.

 The man grinned at her. “Please be careful.”

With a smirk, Maera gave him a deadpan stare, holding the blade an inch above his cheek. “I’ll try,” she returned sarcastically. “But do bear in mind: you talking will make things more difficult. Wouldn’t want to accidentally slit your throat, would we?”

The man gave her an amused look, but said nothing.

Like she did before, Maera was patient and took considerable care with the man, running the blade slowly along the coarser hairs on his face and neck. With each stroke, the bits, curls and waves of his beard fell upon the tiled floor of the basin, floating in the puddles of water by their feet before swirling down the drain. The entire time she tried to focus on grooming him, the man kept his eyes on her, observing her as she worked. To her surprise, she was finding herself becoming accustomed to his gaze. 

Maera was not afraid of him anymore. 

‘Am I getting attached?’

Returning the shaving blade from his neck to his face, Maera began to clear out the smaller areas, particularly around his lips and under his nose. She began to sense something upon seeing his face, no longer obscured by a messy, bushy beard.

‘Why does he look… so familiar?’

“Is everything okay?” The man spoke up. “You froze for a bit there.“

Maera blinked, feeling her cheeks flush at the realization that she was staring. “Ah! Yes. Sorry,” she murmured, fumbling, “I just remembered something - sort of - and got lost in thought.” She resumed his shave. “I’m almost…” She removed the last tiny bits of hair from under his nose. “...done.”

As she pulled away, the man tilted his head upwards and touched his face, running his palm along his jaw and neck. “Wow, I haven’t felt this smooth in...” he paused and sighed. “Blazes… how many moons has it been?” He looked at her and smiled. “Thank you.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Maera stood up, wiping down the blade and putting back in the satchel. She picked up the soap and a brush, rubbing them together to build a thick lather. “Now,” she continued, taking a step behind him, “All that’s left is to clean the rest of you, and you’ll have a nice, hot, scented bath to relax in.”

“Mmm… sounds nice.” The man gazed at her over his shoulders once she began to scrub his back. “Will you be joining me?” he asked with a goofy smile. She gave him a wry look and he chuckled. “I’m sorry. I could not resist the opportunity to poke fun at you.”

Maera grinned and huffed through her nose. “As charming as you are, good ser,” she replied, nudging his shoulder, “I’ve already bathed today.”

“That’s a shame.” 

Returning to the task at hand, Maera began to move the brush in circular motions up and down his back, lathering his skin. Underneath the grime, she gained a clearer view of the scars and yellowing bruises. She came across more scrubbing his sides and along both his arms as she cleaned each one. For a moment, Maera thought to ask him about his blemishes, but thought better against it. She was there to ‘help him forget’, after all, and had a feeling that what he wanted to forget had very much to do with the injuries he sustained. 

Circling the man and taking a step into the basin, Maera stood before him and leaned forward slightly, giving his neck and shoulders a couple strokes with the brush. As she moved downwards, the man straightened up in his seat, allowing her to clean his chest. She noted the featherings of pale blonde hairs between his pectorals, and traced her finger upon them as she cleaned. The further down she went, however, she found herself slowing down.

‘Oh… Right.’ Maera balked. Her hand hesitated just above his waist and she felt her cheeks become extra warm. ‘I didn’t think about this.’

As though sensing her discomfort, the man chuckled and removed one of his hands from between his legs. He took the brush from her, and she looked up at him curiously. “It’s okay,” he reassured her with a smile, reaching for the soap. “I can take it from here.”

Allowing the man to resume cleaning himself, Maera shied away and stepped over to the bath. She found the large stone tub was only a few moments away from being full, the steam permeating the room with a swaddling heat. Picking up the bucket at her feet, she placed it underneath the taps for a refill. The man was just finishing off scrubbing his feet when she returned to him, setting the bucket down next to the washing basin. Pulling her sleeve up a little more, she returned to the bath and slowly dipped her hand in, followed by her arm. She found the temperature of the water hot all the way down yet fortunately not enough to burn. While she herself would find it cozy, she hoped the man would feel the same.

Beside her, Maera heard the sound of water being poured and turned her head to see him standing, facing away from her as he rinsed himself off. She watched as the droplets trailed down his back to his legs, his skin glistening and flush from the hot water. Before Maera had a chance to divert her attention away, the man glanced over his shoulder and their eyes met. He smirked at her, catching her staring once more, and she turned away, her hand covering her face in embarrassment.

“Your bath is ready,” Maera muttered. She turned the taps and shut off the water, keeping her sights away from him. She hoped the makeup she wore had not run in the now hot and humid room, and was just enough to conceal what she suspected was her furious blushing.

“Right.” The man stepped out of the washing basin, his feet pattering on the floor. 

Hearing him slide into the water next to her, Maera slowly turned her head back to face him, subtly side-eying him in case she got a view she was not prepared to see. "Is the water okay?” she asked, once she looked at him face to face. “It's not too hot, is it?"

“It’s perfect.” The man sunk himself into the water until it reached his neck, soaking himself in its heat. Closing his eyes, he visibly relaxed his body. "Thanks,” he sighed with a sleepy grin.

"You’re welcome." Maera smiled back and stood up. “Now, just rest. I’m going to tidy up a bit.”

“You got it.”

Maera stepped away from the bath, picking up the various items left around the basin. Setting the soap bar on the ledge to dry, she tossed the brush into the bucket, and placed them by the door along with the satchel of grooming tools. Grabbing the laundry basket with the man’s clothes inside, she then opened the door a crack, finding one of the washers walking by. After handing off the bundled items for cleaning, she closed the door and crossed the room with the vial of coconut oil, opening the cabinet where it was kept. Noting the insides were in slight disarray, she took a moment to reorganize, picking up the vials that were left sideways and sorting them by scent.

Something caught her eye.

“Oh!”

“Hm?”

“Someone left a bottle of massage oil in the cabinet here,” Maera answered, taking it out. “Usually this bottle is kept in one of the bedrooms or lounges. Someone must have mistaken it for bath oil.”

“There’s a difference?” he asked. At the sound of her drawing near, the man opened his eyes and looked up at her.

“Massage oils are a bit thicker and take longer to be absorbed by the skin,” she explained, seating herself on the edge of the bath. “More slippery and allows for deeper massages.” She pulled out the stopper and sniffed the contents. 

“What does it smell like?” the man asked. Curious, he turned himself slightly in the water and tilted his head up. Maera lowered the bottle to his nose and he took a whiff. “Huh. Pretty light. It's nice," he remarked. "Almonds?"

Maera nodded. "Do you like it?” she asked.

“Yeah.” The man lay back down in the water. “I’ve always been a fan of sweet stuff.”

“Mhm.” Looking down at the bottle, Maera suddenly had an idea. “So... I noticed some old bruises on you while I was cleaning you…” She looked at him and found the man’s expression falling. “I won’t press you on how you got them,” she added quickly. “But if you’d like, I can try and massage the areas on your body where you’re sore?”

“Oh?” The man’s eyes brightened for a moment, but dimmed just as quickly. “You…” His brow furrowed anxiously. “You’d be okay with that?” he asked. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Maera nodded. “Yeah. I'm alright with it. I have already washed your hair and body - well, half - and massages are not that much different," she replied, giving him a reassuring smile. “Any idea where you’d like me to start?”

“Hmm…” The man paused for a moment. His sights drifted down in thought and he slowly shifted and flexed his body under the water, as though to figure out where he might be in pain the most. “Well,” he resumed, “how about my neck and shoulders? They’re the easiest parts for you to reach at the moment.”

“Sounds good.” Maera scooted herself along the edge of the bath, seating herself behind him. She rested his hands upon his shoulders, giving him a nudge. “Just lean forward a tiny bit, please.“ The man did as she asked. “Perfect. Thank you.”

“Mhm.” 

Pouring a small dollop into her hands, Maera placed the bottle nearby and rubbed the oil between her palms, making sure to warm up the slippery substance before applying it evenly on the man’s shoulders. She began by giving the area around his neck a squeeze, pressing her thumbs at each side of his spine. As she made her way outwards along his shoulders, she noted - in addition to some faint bruising - numerous bumps and knots underneath his skin. Returning her hands back to the center, she repeated the motions, applying a stronger pressure with each round as the more stubborn ones refused to give way. As each knot that popped and loosened, the man grunted and sighed.

“Is this okay?” she asked. “I’m not hurting you am I?”

“Nuh-uh,” the man hummed. “You’re doing just fine.”

Continuing her ministrations, Maera gave his shoulders one more pass, ensuring she got out as many of the kinks as she could before moving her hands up. Placing her thumbs at the base of his skull, she pushed them carefully yet firmly against his skin, making circular motions as she slowly brought them down the back of his neck. 

At some point, something under one of her thumbs popped, loudly.

 “Ah!” the man yelped.

“Oh!” Maera jumped at his response, immediately pulling her hands away. “I’m so sorry! Did I hurt you?”

“Hardly!” the man glanced at her over his shoulder, utterly bewildered. ”That felt great! I didn’t realize I… ooh...” Returning his head forward, he tilted it from side to side, giving his neck muscles a stretch. “That’s… wow… I didn’t realize I was stiff there until you unkinked it.”

“You do have a lot of knots,” Maera remarked. “Do you want me to keep going?”

The man chuckled, grinning at her from ear to ear. “Well, I certainly don’t want you to stop.”

She returned his smile with one of her own. “Alright.”

Several moments passed as Maera continued to iron out all the aches and stiffness in the man’s shoulders and neck. With each blissful moan and hitched breath, she would adjust accordingly, tossing him a simple yes or no question if she was unsure. At some point, the calm silence ended as the man spoke up once more.

“So… nicknames...”

“I’m sorry?”

“Nicknames, for each of us,” the man tilted his head to gaze up at her. “You know, something we can call each other for the rest of the night? You said we’re not allowed to share our names. So I was thinking what would be a nice alternative?”

“Um… I don’t know...” 

“I know, it’s a corny idea,” The man lowered his head, dejected at her response. He pulled his sights from her. “Forget it.”

“Oh! It’s okay,” Maera exclaimed, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. ”I think it’s a wonderful idea. I just...don’t know what to call you,” she added. “Hmm… maybe…“

“Hm?” He looked up at her again.

“Silver?” Maera suggested.

“Silver?” The man raised a brow at her, perplexed. “Why Silver?”

“For your hair,” she answered, lightly combing her fingers through his dampened locks. “I noticed quite a lot of it mixed with the blonde while I was washing it.”

“Oh right...heh,” the man chuckled. “I am aging rather quickly, aren’t I?”

“I think it makes you look… distinguished.”

He snorted. “That’s a kind way of saying old.” 

Maera leaned over him slightly, trailing her fingers along the back of his jaw. “Nevertheless,” she giggled softly, “you are still very handsome.”

As the words escaped her lips, Maera felt a flutter in her chest.

‘Did I really just say that?’

The man’s eyes brightened. “You think I’m handsome?” he asked, his voice just above a whisper.

‘I did.’

“Mhm.” Maera smiled and stroked his chin. “Yes. I do, Silver,” she answered quietly.

“Hah.” Beaming at her, the man raised his hand, returning the gesture and feathering his fingers along her cheek. “Well, I think you’re very beautiful.”

"Oh?" To her surprise, Maera felt her belly tingling with delight at his response. She found herself wanting more. "What do you find so beautiful about me?" 

"Why… there are so many things," he replied teasingly. “It’ll take me all night to list them all.”

"I’ll be happy to hear at least one."

"Hmm…alright then." The man thought for a moment. "Your eyes."

"My eyes?"

"Yeah. They're lovely.” His fingers trailed up the side of her face, tickling her near the corner of her eye. "Like a lush green forest, with pale sunlight cascading through the canopy."

Maera giggled. "That's very poetic of you."

The man tilted his head back down to face forward. "I’ll have you know, my lady...” he began with a chuckle. He turned so he could look at her over his shoulder. “...that despite my sorry, ragged appearance, I happen to be a very well-read gentleman.”

“I see,” she snickered, giving him a nudge. She began to gently tap her fists along his shoulders, resuming the massage. “Well, hopefully after tonight, you will at least feel less sorry and ragged.”

“Mhm,” the man hummed, her hands prompting him to face forward once more. “Yes...your eyes…” he murmured with a sigh. “They remind me of the Heartland, back in Enderal."

"Enderal?" Maera made her way to the back of his neck, reducing the impact of her fists the further up she went. "Is that where you're from?" she asked.

"Ah. Yeah.” The man grunted with each tap. "I have not been there for many years though."

"Do you miss it?" 

Maera noted the man took quite a few moments before responding.

"Sometimes," he answered with a sigh. He sounded sad.

"I see..." Maera murmured. "So,” she piped up, hoping to change the subject, “about that name for me?"

"Huh?” The man turned his head to the side for a moment to glance at her, as though her question broke him out of his somber thoughts. “Oh! Yes, of course! Let me think. How about… Ash?"

"Ash?"

"As in the ash brown of your hair, like the silver in mine," the man explained. "I think that helps sort it out evenly, don't you think?"

"Hmm… Yeah, I think so." Maera responded. "Ash… I like it. Short and sweet." 

"For a short and sweet young lady," the man added, giving her a quick flirtatious glance.

"Mhm." Maera bit her lips. Finishing up the last round of tapping, she dipped her hands into the water, pouring a couple handfuls upon his back and rinsing away the remaining oil off his skin. Once he was clean, she rested her palms upon his shoulders. “Well, that should be it," she remarked. “Feeling better?”

The man leaned back to look up at her, resting his head against her thigh. “Much better. Thank you.”

At the contact, Maera felt the fluttering sensation in her chest once more. She gazed down at him, tracing her fingers along his chin. "So, Silver,” she purred, “now that we have properly introduced ourselves, what would you like to do next?"

“I think…” Smiling, the man raised his hand and feathered his fingers along her cheek. “I think I would like to go back to bed.”

“Alright. One moment.” Standing up, Maera hurried across the room to grab the towels and robe she left by the door. When she returned to him, she set the robe and the larger towel at the edge of the bathtub. Opening up the second, smaller towel, she sat behind him once more. “I’m going to take a minute to dry your hair.”

“Mhm.” Covering his head with the plush white cloth, Maera began by using the tips of her fingers to knead his scalp, applying just enough pressure to dry him off. As she did this, he moaned and sighed happily. “You’re really good at giving massages, by the way,” he murmured, as she diverted her efforts towards gently wringing the water from his hair. “I really enjoy them.”

“Thank you,” she replied, padding his face and neck. Draping the smaller towel on her arm, she stood up, and offered him her hand. “Alright, time to get out.” The man took it and pulled himself up. “Watch your step,“ she cautioned. As he stepped out of the water, she noted his continued effort in covering himself as best as he could with his free hand. Once he stood before her, she placed the now dampened towel at the edge of the bath, and pulled open the larger one. “Here,” she offered, stepping behind him. “Let me dry you off.”

Like when she was cleaning him prior, Maera started by padding his back with the towel, working from his shoulders down, and drying off each arm as he offered them to her. With each motion, she whisked away the droplets of water that clung to his skin, noting on top of the scars and old bruises the fine featherings of pale hair that covered his body. The further down she went - drying his buttocks and legs -  she once more surprised herself by how she no longer felt uncomfortable being so close to him, touching him in areas she would have once considered too intimate. Whether it was the towel acting as a sort of barrier, or her steadily flourishing fondness for the man, she was not yet certain. Upon circling to stand before him, she resumed drying him off, padding his chest with the towel and making her way down, along his ribcage, his abdomen…

As she reached his waist, Maera paused over his hands, both of which still covered his genitals. Unlike before, she found herself comfortable with moving forward. However, despite this change, she felt it more important to ask. “Um, Silver…” She looked up at the man. “If it’s alright with you,” she began meekly. “I would like to finish drying you off.”

“Oh!” The man blinked, surprised by her request. "Are you sure?" he asked, his expression becoming anxious. "I…" He swallowed nervously. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"I think I'll be okay." Maera reached for his hands, intent on pulling them aside.

"Are you sure?" the man asked once more, taking a step back from her. "You might not like what you see."

Maera drew closer to him. raising her hand to caress his cheek. "I'll be alright," she assured him. "As long as you are comfortable with me touching you, I will be as well.

The man stared back at her, his eyes searching hers before giving her a nod. "Okay," he sighed. He pulled his hands away, exposing himself to her. "I am sorry...for the state I'm in," he muttered, shifting his sights away in embarrassment. 

Before Maera, the man's cock hung heavily, half-mast and swaying, likely stirred by the comforts she had provided him so far.  The sight of it resting atop his bulbous sacs sent an electrifying tingle from the bottom of her belly down to her own quivering heat. Biting her lips, she suddenly recalled the feeling of him pressed against her from earlier that evening. But rather than the frightened and confused feelings she felt before…

"Hey…" The man's voice called her back, and she looked up to find him looking back at her with worry. "Are you okay?"

Releasing her lips, Maera blinked at him and nodded, smiling to reassure him once more. "Yeah. I'm alright. Just…" she looked down at his thickened member "A bit surprised, that's all."

"I'm sorry, Ash," he groaned, his cheeks reddening. "Normally I can do a better job at keeping things in check, but right now... I'm just…"

"Aroused by the woman taking care of you?" Maera replied plainly. With the towel, she took him into her hands, prompting a grunt from his lips. His moans coaxed her forward, and she quickly found herself enraptured by a sudden high at the contact. As she gently dried him down, the hefty weight of his genitals sent another twinge between her legs. "It's alright," she added, struggling to keep her voice steady as she pawed at him. "I see no reason to hold this against you."

Standing so close to the man - now cleansed of grime and filth - Maera could feel the heat emanating from his body. Not only did she pick up on the herbal scents from his bath, but also his own natural musk. They teased and clouded her mind, urging her further as she fondled him.

"Ash…"

"It's perfectly normal, right?" Maera pondered out loud, cupping him tenderly through the towel. "A handsome man being tended to by a beautiful woman. It can lead to… such things, right?"

"Ash!" The man called out to her, grasping her hands to stop her ministrations.

"Huh?!" Maera blinked and looked up, his voice breaking her out of her daze. 

"You're…" He chuckled, raising one of his hands to her face. He stroked her cheek with his thumb. "You're doing too good a job, I'm afraid," he remarked, his voice quivering. “I almost…”

Casting her eyes down between them, Maera pulled away the towel. "Oh!” she yelped, her cheeks burning at the sight of him fully engorged, his tip weeping with precum. "I am so sorry," she breathed, fully flustered. "I only meant to dry you off, but I…” She bit her lips. “I guess... I got carried away." Idly, she feathered her fingers along the veins of his cock. "I've only ever seen, but never really… touched a man before - not like this, I mean." Realizing her hands were straying once more, she pulled herself away, covering them underneath the towel in shame. “I’m sorry.”

Taking the towel away from her hands, the man set it down on the edge of the bath. He then took her head into his hands. He laughed softly, resting his forehead against her in affection. "It's alright,” he sighed, stroking her cheeks once more with his thumbs. “I suspect you were just curious and got... distracted." He kissed her forehead. "Besides, it felt nice," he admitted.

Giggling, Maera smiled, brushing her nose against his in return before pulling away. “Well, you should be mostly dry now." She sidestepped him, picking up the robe from the edge of the bath. Unfolding it, she held up the garment open to him. "Here,” she coaxed him. “Put this on."

"Oh! Okay." The man slid his arms one at a time into the sleeves of the robe, observing Maera as she tied the sash into a tidy bow in front. She watched as he ran his hands down his chest, stroking the fluffy white fabric. "Oh...it’s really soft," he exclaimed.

“Mhm.” Maera rested her hands on top of his. “I figured while your clothes are being cleaned, you’d need a little something to wear during your stay.”

The man smiled adoringly at her. “Thank you,” he murmured softly, brushing his nose against hers.

Maera closed her eyes, her heart was swelling at his affection. “You’re welcome,” she whispered, returning the gesture. 

Taking one of his hands into one of her own, she began to lead him out of the room. 

“Come, Silver. Let’s go back to bed.” 

#enderal #enderal forgotten stories #fanfiction #oc #prophetess #maera #maera vervain #jespar #jespar dal'varek #ostian #laches #enderafluff #myfics #pre-game

[spicylief]

Wisp

Something crashed.

Then there was yelling.

Jespar’s eyes snapped open, startled by the sounds. As his body stirred back to wakefulness, the first thing that came to his attention was the aching throb in his temples, reminders that he - once again - had one too many drinks earlier than night. It then occurred to him that it was completely dark in his room, save for the tiny slivers of light seeping through the cracks in the shutters.

‘What time is it?’

With the pints he had still fogging his mind, Jespar fumbled his way in the dark and opened the window. He winced as light filled his vision. It was still night, but the full moon shined so brightly that for a moment he thought it was the sun. Once his eyes adjusted, he glanced around at the alley below for any signs of the disturbance.

Nothing.

More sounds caught his attention. More yelling. Someone screamed. Something wooden broke.

It was coming from inside the inn.

Down the hall to be precise.

‘What in blazes?’

Guided by the moonlight, Jespar made his way to the door. He opened it a crack, and glanced outside, scanning up and down the hall.

No one was there.

“Stop, please...” 

Just as he was about to close the door, Jespar heard a girl whimpering from around the corner on his left, towards the common areas.

“Hey!” a voice yelled. It was the innkeep, if Jespar remembered correctly - a elderly Nehrimese man who had to have at least sixty winters on him. “Leave the young miss alone!” the old man cried out.

“Shut up, you old shit!” barked another man - his voice vaguely familiar. He was one of three men - sellswords - who were dining and gambling at a table near Jespar’s earlier that evening. They were loud and obnoxious, and were drinking themselves stupid by the time he decided to head to bed.

‘I should go back inside… this is none of my business.’ 

Jespar stood by the door, and continued to listen.

Something crashed and thudded onto the floor.

“Aagh!” the old man yelped in pain.

“Don’t hurt him!” a girl cried.

“Get the fool out of here!” Another voice. The second mercenary.

“You bloody outlanders will all burn for this!” the old man exclaimed, his voice becoming distant.

“I said shut up!” the first shouted, trailing after the innkeep. “Get out of here!”

“Now where were we?” The third mercenary. The tone of his slurred voice made Jespar’s skin crawl.

‘Go back inside. Close the door. Stay out of this.’

“Please! Let me go!” the girl whimpered.

“Come now! Don’t be shy! We promise we’ll show you a good ti- AGH!”

Something ceramic shattered, followed by the sounds of loud thumps and rushing footsteps. From around the corner, Jespar watched through the gap as a young, dark-skinned girl came scrambling down the hall in his direction. Her ash brown hair was messy and undone, her torn shawl hung haphazardly around her neck and her shredded dress trailed after her as she ran. 

Tears and terror filled her bright green eyes.

Jespar felt a sickening pit sink in his stomach.

“THAT FUCKING BITCH!” one of the men roared from afar.

As she neared his room, Jespar’s eyes met hers.

‘Don’t get involved. Don’t get involved. Don’t get involved.’

Ignoring the anxious voice in his head, Jespar stepped out and grabbed her, pulling her into his room.  With one hand firm over her mouth, he slammed the door shut with his back and with his free hand pulled the deadbolt across. 

‘What the fuck is wrong with me?!’

The girl writhed in his arms and screamed against his palm.

“Shh... don’t make a sound,” he whispered in her ear with a hiss. The girl trembled in his arms, but Jespar felt her lips tighten underneath his palm, doing as she was told. 

“Where did that cunt go?!” one of the men yelled furiously.

“She ran this way," responded the other. “Maybe she’s in there? There is nowhere else she could’ve gone!”

Without a second to lose, Jespar opened up the closet in his room and shoved the poor girl inside. Grabbing his travelpack, he dropped it in front of her, unfastening his sleeping bag before tossing it over her and his belongings. 

“Keep still and stay quiet!” he instructed the girl, keeping his voice barely audible before shutting her inside.

The knob turned suddenly, followed by the rattle of the deadbolt keeping the men at bay.

They started banging at his door.

“Hey! Open up!” 

“Let us in, you little brat! Or we’ll let ourselves in!”

One of them slammed themselves against the door. The deadbolt cracked, but held.

Jespar had to think fast. He did not have a lot of time.

‘What do I do? What should I say?’

Mind scrambling, he took a deep breath.

‘This is such a bad idea.’

Jespar pulled back the bolt, and the two men barged in. He stumbled back, his bed catching his fall.

“Ugh! What now?!” Jespar groaned, slurring and adding traces of exasperation in his voice. He scratched his head. “What’s going on??”

“Where is she?” one of the men spat in his face. His breath stank of meat and ale and his left brow bled.

Jespar wrinkled his nose, raising his hand to block the stench. Focusing on his ruse, he looked at the men in confusion. “Wha... Who?” he stuttered, blinking in pretend delirium. He rubbed his head to feign a headache, clenching his jaw to calm the panic coursing through his nerves.

“The little bitch that ran in here,” answered the second man.

 “Oh?” Jespar blinked, and turned his sights to the window, glancing outside while taking the chance to minimize eye contact. “Is… is that what jumped out my window...?! A girl?”

“There is no other place she could have gone!” the bleeding man growled. “Where the fuck did she go?!”

“How in blazes am I supposed to know?” Jespar shouted back, gesturing and flailing his arms in frustration. “Yo-You all just came bargin’ in here while I’m tryin’ ta sleep!” he added, intentionally fumbling with his words.

“Let’s go, boss. We’re wasting time here,” the second man started pulling the other away. “This drunk isn’t gonna know where she went. Let’s go outside. Maybe we can pick up her trail.”

“Fuck!” the sellsword cursed, rubbing his head as he trudged off with a grumble. “When I find that little cunt…”

As the men left his room, Jespar continued his ruse, staggering by his door and observing them as discreetly as possible. He listened carefully for any worrying developments, keeping an eye on them as they turned and continued to walk away. Their voices became more and more distant, and the moment he could no longer hear their disgruntled mutterings, he shut his door and locked it, yanking the deadbolt across. Jespar then stepped over to the end table by the bed, pulling out a small tinderbox from its drawer. He lit a splint and with it the candle that was resting on the table’s surface. Its warm light now replaced that of the moon outside. Crossing the room, he returned to the window, taking a quick and subtle glance down the alley before pulling the shutters back in, fastening its lock.

Jespar took a deep breath. 

‘By the Sun… that was close.’

Turning around, he stared at the closet.

‘Now, what do I do about the girl?’

Jespar stepped towards it and opened the doors.

The girl had barely moved, remaining still underneath the protection of his bed roll. He swallowed the nervous lump in his throat.

What was he supposed to say?

“Hey kid,” he started gently in a hushed voice, taking a knee on the floor. “They’re gone now.”

The girl did not respond.

Slowly and carefully lest he startle her, Jespar reached over and pulled the sleeping bag away. Underneath, the girl sat, cowering in a little ball. Having a couple more moments to look at her, she appeared to be no more than sixteen winters. As expected, she was weeping in silence. Her eyes were shut tight and her knees huddled against her chest.  Her trembling arms were wrapped protectively in front of her. One hand kept her tattered clothes together over her bosom and head, while the other hand massaged her cheek.

“Hey, you…” Jespar offered awkwardly. He tilted his head to the side. “Are you okay…?” 

The girl did not respond to him. Her eyes remained downcast towards the corner of the closet. Tears streamed down her cheeks. 

“No, of course not.” Jespar looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. That was stupid of me to ask,” he added. From the corner of his eye, he spotted the girl eyeing him. He returned her gaze, only for her to turn away. 

It was then he saw the angry red mark on her face, where one of the men had likely struck her.

Jespar winced. “Your face…” he sighed, reaching his hand out to her. “Here, let me look at tha-” The moment his hand neared her, the girl released a terrified squeak and pulled away from him, curling tighter into her ball. Jespar immediately pulled back, raising his hands to the sides of his head where she could see them. “Ah! Nevermind! I'm sorry!”

The two sat in silence, uncertain of what to do about the other.

Turning his sights away, Jespar’s hand returned to the back of his neck. He began to massage it, hoping to rub away the nervous prickling that was forming under his skin.

‘What am I going to do with you?’

“I…” the girl finally spoke, her voice little more audible than a whisper. “I should go,” she murmured. Keeping a firm grip on her clothes, she slowly unfurled herself from the spot in his closet. As she attempted to stand up, Jespar placed an arm in front of her path.

“Wait.”

“Please, ser,” the girl cried softly, her eyes avoiding his. “I just want to go home.”

“Those men are probably still looking for you,” Jespar reminded her. ”Even worse, they’re angry at you for what you did. If you leave now, you might get caught and...” Jespar stopped himself. He did not want to finish that thought and he was certain she did not want to hear it either.

“Then what do I do?” the girl asked. It was then she finally looked back at him, fear and anguish in her eyes.

Jespar felt his chest ache. The sadness he saw in her made him uncomfortable. He shifted his sights away, glancing off to the side as he tried to think. “I guess…you could stay here tonight? It would be safer for you," he suggested feebly. “I made sure to lock up everything. They won’t know you’re here as long as we keep quiet.”

“I don’t know…” The poor girl did not sound convinced, eyeing past him at the single bed in the room.

Following her gaze, Jespar immediately understood her hesitation. “Look,” he started, pulling up his bedroll, “I have my sleeping bag right here.” He turned around and laid it out before him on the floor. “I’ll stay down here, and you can have my bed, okay?” he offered, waving his hand between the two beds. “From what I can tell, those guys were drinking quite a fair bit. By tomorrow morning, they’ll likely be so hungover they won’t notice you slipping away.” 

The girl continued to eye him warily, leaning back into the closet as though seeking its protection.

Jespar shifted onto the bedroll, positioning himself aside in an attempt to make her path to the bed a bit more inviting. “Listen, you can either take my bed, or stay in that closet if it makes you feel safer. I know it's hard given what just happened.” He ran his fingers through his hair, and resumed rubbing the back of his neck. “But,” Jespar continued, “you'll just have to trust me, okay? I promise, I won’t do anything to you.”

The girl stared at him and Jespar could see the wheels turning in her head. After a couple silent and uneasy moments, she finally spoke. 

“Okay.” 

With her legs still shaking, the girl slowly got to her feet, hands still clutching her clothes against her chest. Placing as much distance between her and Jespar as possible, she eventually made her way to the bed, climbing under the covers all whilst keeping her eyes on him. Like a terrified kitten, she sat there on high alert, waiting to see what he would do next.

“Well, guess that’s it then.” With a sigh, Jespar slipped himself into his sleeping bag, laying down on his side. He gave the girl one more look, offering a sympathetic smile before turning away from her. “Have a good night,” he murmured with a yawn. 

Jespar lay there on the floor, trying his best to fall back asleep. As the minutes passed, he listened. The girl did not seem to move by the sound of it, but he could feel her stare upon his back. Eventually, he finally heard the bedsheets shuffle, and the girl let out a stifled whimper. Jespar continued to wait patiently, listening for her breathing to calm before allowing himself the same.

The girl began to cry, her sobs muffled by the pillow.

‘Just leave her alone. Don’t say anything,’ his mind warned. ‘The poor thing has been through enough tonight.’

Jespar tried his best to ignore her. He lay there on the floor, his back still turned to her, listening to her sniffling. He waited for her to stop.

After what felt like an hour, she did not.

‘Say nothing.’

“Can’t sleep?” Jespar spoke up again, keeping his voice quiet.

With a startled gasp, the crying stopped. Jespar peered over his shoulder to look at the girl. Like him, she was lying on her side. Her torn veil now covered her head like a hood, and the blankets were pulled up to her chin, covering her from neck to toe. She stared back at him, surprised he was still awake. Her eyes were red and the skin puffy underneath. Tears soaked her cheeks. Her lips were trembling, but she had bitten them shut in a weak attempt to keep them still.

“No…“ Jespar remarked sadly. “No, of course not.” He shifted again and lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. “That was a dumb question. I shouldn’t have asked,” he added, thinking out loud. “Sorry.” 

The girl did not respond. He looked at her as she cast her gaze upon the floor. She sniffed and wiped away tears from her eyes as more continued to well up.

‘Guess neither of us is getting any sleep tonight.’

“So,” Jespar started, keeping his voice quiet. “What’s your name? Mine’s Jespar.”

The girl blinked, and their eyes met. She then looked away ponderously, as though uncertain of what to say. “I...I’m sorry, ser,” she responded, “I don't mean to be rude, but... ”

“Oh!” Jespar stopped her, sensing her discomfort at his question. “It’s okay, I understand. You don’t have to tell me.” 

The girl glanced at him, a flicker of gratitude in her eyes. The corners of her lips showed the slightest hint of a smile, but it faded as quickly as it appeared.

“So...” Jespar felt the need to try again, and she looked back at him as he spoke once more. “What were you doing here so late at night?” he asked curiously. ”This place isn’t exactly full of the nicest people. A young girl like you is going to run into trouble.” 

At his question, the girl once more stared down at the floor between them. Jespar watched as her brow furrowed and her cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

“Look, I’m sorry...” Jespar sighed, covering his face with his hands. It seemed he had nothing better to offer than one stupid question after another. “I don’t mean to say it as though this whole mess is your fault… forget I-”

“I was making a delivery,” the girl answered.

Jespar lowered his hands from his face, and turned to face her. “A delivery?” 

The girl nodded. “Mhm. Some medicine for the innkeeper’s mother,” she explained. “She’s very old, and a friend of my mentor. We received word earlier this evening that she had come down with a fever and since we are in the alchemic business… well…”

“Seems a little careless of your mentor to send you out here so late, don't you think?” Jespar remarked, a brow raised. “I heard the streets here in Ostian are not safe at night.”

“It was my idea,” the girl added, shifting her sight away from him. She tightened the blanket around her shoulders, and nuzzled her cheek against the pillow. “I offered to make the delivery, since it was on my way home from work. Plus… I… ”

“Hm?”

“I did it to help my mentor,” she added, her voice meek and whimpering. “Since I was little, he was always kind to me and took care of me. I just wanted to help.”

“Oh.”

The girl wiped more tears away.

“I see,” Jespar murmured sadly. “I guess…” She looked at him. “It was a good thing I was here to bail you out then, huh?” he asked, offering a sheepish grin.

“Yeah," the girl sighed, smiling weakly. "I guess so.”

Turning his head back to face the ceiling, Jespar let out a deep, unwinding breath. “Well, for now,” he started, his voice weary, “try to get some sleep, okay?” He tossed one more glance at her. “I know tonight was… well... awful. But the sooner you fall asleep, the sooner you can leave and return home. Does that sound good?”

The girl paused for a moment, considering his words before nodding back. Like him, she turned to lay on her back, gazing upwards. "Yeah. Sounds good.” 

“Good night then."

“Good night.”

Silence fell between them. 

Just as Jespar found himself drifting off to sleep, the girl spoke up once more.

“Ser?”

“Yes?” 

A pause.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Jespar smiled. “Don’t mention it.”

---

Early the following morning, Jespar was the first to wake. He found the girl slumbering peacefully, and not wishing to wake her just yet, he put on his boots and snuck out to scout the inn, making sure to lock the door behind him as a precaution. Stepping lightly through the halls and common areas, Jespar found no signs of the innkeep and he could not help but hope he was alright. From Jespar’s interactions with him over the past couple days, he found the old man kind and courteous, and was always awake bright and early to greet him and the other guests.

As he approached the dining hall, Jespar’s ears picked up the rumbling sounds of someone snoring. He kept himself close to the wall and stepped forward. Peering from the entrance, he found the sellswords from the previous night, completely passed out. One was sleeping with his head on their table, a wet, bloody rag had been wrapped haphazardly where the girl had struck him. The other two were lying on the floor. Scattered around them were puddles of ale, half-soaked playing cards, a dozen or so tankards, and partially eaten food.

They were utterly unconscious.

‘Guess this is as good a chance as any.’

Hurrying back as silently as possible, Jespar returned to his room. Upon entering, he stepped up to the bed and gently shook the girl by her shoulder. She groaned at the disturbance, burying herself under the covers.

“Hey,” Jespar whispered gently. “Wake up.”

Upon hearing his voice, the girl began to stir. He watched as she slowly blinked her slumber away. “What…” Her eyes widened as she seemingly remembered where she was. She tilted her head up at him, her brow furrowed with worry. “Ser?”

Jespar smiled, relieved that he did not startle her. “Good morning,” he greeted softly. “I went ahead to look for the men from last night. They’re passed out in the dining hall. It’s safe for you now if you want to leave.”

“I…” The girl sat up, rubbing away the remaining sleep from her puffy eyes. “I can go home?”

Jespar nodded. “Yeah. Although we have to be quick and be as quiet as possible.” 

The girl’s face brightened, but then fell once more. She looked down at her torn dress, which would have likely fallen off her shoulders without her holding it up. 

“Hmm… yeah… you don't want to go outside like that, do you?” Jespar pondered out loud. Turning to his travelpack, he opened it and rummaged inside, looking for something he could spare. “Here, take this,” he returned to her, handing over a plain, old linen shirt. “You are a fair bit smaller than I am, so hopefully it should be enough.”

“Oh!” The girl took it graciously. “Thank you,” she murmured. She put the shirt on, pulling it over her dress. Getting out of bed, she stood up to allow his shirt to drape down her body. Upon finding the bottom reaching her thighs, she pulled at the remains of her dress and tore at it just a bit more. Jespar watched as she began to tie parts of it around her waist, turning it into a skirt that reached her knees. For a brief moment, he thought to ask whether she would want to mend her dress, but stopped himself. 

‘After what happened, she’ll probably trash it...or burn it. I would, if I was her.’

Satisfied at the impromptu alteration, the girl looked up at him.

“Alright, I’m ready.”

---

“Ser, are these the men?” 

“That’s them, alright!” yelled the innkeep. “They assaulted the poor miss right in front of me! They beat me and tossed me into the cellar when I tried to stop them!”

Jespar was enjoying a pipe by the Ostian pier when his ears perked up, recognizing the familiar voice of the old man. Curious, he stood up from his spot by the water and strode over. As he turned the corner, he came across a crowd that had gathered outside one of the guard posts further down the street. He found the innkeep in talks with one of the city guards. Next to them were the three mercenaries, bound together, shackled, and each flanked by a pair of guards. Near the innkeep was the girl. She was now wearing a new veil that covered her hair from the sun, and a layered robe of pale colored linens. She was standing behind the protective presence of a tall, lithe Qyranian man dressed in a sleek blackish-blue dress suit, lined with ornate silver threads. His thick, shoulder-length braids were adorned with small rings that glimmered under the midday sky.

‘Oh. That gentleman looks very well off.‘ 

“I see. Thank you, ser, for your testimony.” The guard addressing the innkeep wrote something down in his notepad, before turning his attention to the Qyranian. “Meister Al-Yaqut, would you like to make a statement as well?”

“Those disgusting scoundrels dared to harm my apprentice. I fear they would have done far worse if she failed to slip away,” answered the Qyranian, his deep voice calm but dripping with an underlying, seething fury. “As you well know, my business partner and I take great care of those in our employ, even the little ones. Do as you will with murderers and rapers of children,” he exclaimed with a huff. “From what I understand from my business partner, the standard punishment here in Southrealm is quite sufficient.”

“Very well.” The guard wrote some additional notes before turning to his comrades. He gave them a nod. “Take them away.”

Watching the guards drag the mercenaries away, Jespar listened as the Qyranian man spoke to the innkeep. “Ser, I must ask,” he spoke kindly, “Are you certain you are alright? Sweetling here told me what they did to you.”

“Just a little roughed up but I’ll be fine, my boy.” 

As the two men talked, Jespar turned his gaze back to them. It was then he found the girl staring at him, utterly bewildered at his presence. 

“And how is your mother?” the man continued, “Did the medicine help?”

Jespar returned her gaze, uncertain himself of how to respond.

“She is doing well, thanks to you and the young miss.” The innkeep shifted his attention to the girl.  He reached for her hands and grasped them gently, bringing her focus back to him. “I am sorry for everything that happened to you last night.”

“Oh! Think nothing of it,” the girl returned, smiling sheepishly. “I know you tried to save me. Thank you.”

“Ah… still,” the old man sighed, “Such a thing should have never happened, especially under my roof.” He released her hands. “I best return home. Mama will want to know everything. Farewell, you two.”

“Farewell, good ser,” returned the Qyranian. “Well, shall we head back, my dear? We should probably apply a bit more ointment for that bruise, at least.” 

The girl did not respond. She instead had returned her sights to Jespar, sending him the faintest smile.

‘Thank you.’

Jespar simply stared back, returning the gesture with a smile and subtle wave.

‘Don’t mention it.’

“Sweetling?”

The girl returned her attention back to her mentor. “Ah! Yes! Sorry, Seda.”

Seda tilted his head curiously at her. “My dear, what were you looking at?” he asked, taking a glance at the people around them.

“Nothing. Just lost in thought.”

“Well, come now. Let’s go home.”

Jespar watched as Seda walked away. As the girl began to follow, she paused and gave Jespar another look. She smiled at him one last time before turning away, hurrying her steps to keep up with her mentor. 

Once the girl disappeared into the crowd, Jespar simply turned and left.

#enderal #enderal forgotten stories #fanfiction #oc #prophetess #maera #maera vervain #jespar #jespar dal'varek #ostian #seda #enderafluff #myfics #pre-game

[spicylief]

Weekend OT3 scribbles (wanted to practice hair) along with a snapshot of the Friday WIP with a bit of progress (was unhappy with Kama’s legs and stuff~)

Was kinda stuck between wanting to be a potat and game all weekend vs. wanting to do more art now that I’m done the comic~ lol

#enderal #enderal forgotten stories #oc #prophetess #maera #maera vervain #jespar #jespar dal'varek #tharael #tharael narys #babies #ot3babies #kama #kamari #rami #ramiel #nuri #nuriel #myart #enderafluff #vynblr #Tharaêl #Tharaêl Narys

[spicylief]

Have an afternoon sketch of the OT3′s kids~

I just wanted to take the time to narrow down their appearances. I had their hair, eye and skin color considered for some time. Today was mostly trying to figure out who would resemble which parent shape wise, especially around the face.

Who do y’all see in each kid?

In case you want some info~

Kamari (oldest) is Mae and Jes’ daughter.

Nuriel (youngest) and Ramiel (older) are Mae and Tharael’s twin sons.

#enderal #enderal forgotten stories #oc #prophetess #maera #maera vervain #myart #enderafluff #reference #quick reference #babies #vynblr #kama #kamari #rami #ramiel #nuri #nuriel #ot3babies #Tharaêl #Tharaêl Narys

[spicylief]

Have a lunch time sketch/WIP of an idea I had stewing in my head the past couple months~

“What’s better than 1 werewolf brother? 2 werewolf brothers!” - @mishidraws, today.

#enderal #enderal forgotten stories #oc #prophetess #maera #maera vervain #myart #enderafluff #reference #quick reference #babies #vynblr #kama #kamari #rami #ramiel #nuri #nuriel #ot3babies

[spicylief]

Names for the little ones...

So for the longest time, I kinda had the idea of the OT3 having babies.

First, Jespar and Maera have their daughter (originally named Adila, after his sister).Then Tharaêl and Maera have two twin boys (originally named Letho and Sirius, after each of their respective, adoptive brothers).

After some feedback and discussion with some folks, I decided to go with completely new names for them.

The daughter’s name: Kama (full name: Kamari)

The names of the twin sons: Rami and Nuri (full name: Ramiel and Nuriel, respectively)

Haven’t quite decided on their last names yet, though they’re more likely to take on Vervain rather than Dal’Varek or Narys respectively.

I do have some idea of what I want them to look like (you might have even seen sketches of them waaaay back). But I’ll get around to making art of them at some point...

#enderal #enderal forgotten stories #oc #prophetess #maera #maera vervain #myfics #myart #enderafluff #reference #quick reference #babies #vynblr #kama #kamari #rami #ramiel #nuri #nuriel #ot3babies

[spicylief]

Witch

The heat soothed her skin the moment she entered.

The sounds of dancing patrons, bards, and clanking tankards filled the air. She cast her eye across the tavern, and found the young Aeterna woman sitting at a corner table furthest from the noise. The girl was nodding off with her head resting on the wall. She did not even notice Aisa approaching her.

"Here you are, child." 

"Huh? Wha-?" Esme stirred, her eyes fluttering open. Aisa set the book down in front of her.

"The passenger log of the Morning Dew, as you requested," Aisa offered. “I apologize for the delay. There were some… minor issues that needed to be addressed."

"Oh! You actually managed to find it!” Esme’s eyes lit up at the sight of the tome. She sat up straight and hurried to open the cover, flipping through the weather-worn pages. "Thank you so much!" 

"Hmm."

"Here.” Esme reached into her pockets and took out a handful of coins, counting them quickly from her palm. “Take this payment for your troubles!” She passed the pennies to Aisa with a bright smile. “Again, thank you so very much!"

"Mhmm.” Aisa accepted the pay with a nod. “I hope you find the answers you seek." 

Leaving the girl to examine the book, Aisa made her way over to the bar. Behind it the tavernkeep was leisurely wiping down the counter with a tattered cloth. She smiled at Aisa as she approached. "I am relieved you decided to help that poor girl, Aisa,” she remarked with a sigh. “I was afraid she'd venture out on her own and get herself killed."

"It was no trouble, Astrid. I was going to be in the area anyways for other matters. Heading out to the wreckage simply required a small detour." Aisa placed the coins Esme had given her onto the counter, followed by another handful from her own satchel.  "Now...” She slid the pile over to Astrid. “Do you have the supplies I requested?" she queried.

"Right here. Well, most of it, at least." Astrid pocketed a portion of the coins, and handed the remainder back. She reached down behind the counter and straightened back up, walking around the bar. In her wrinkled hand was a large leather sack. She carried it over to where Aisa stood, setting it down at her feet. "While I was able to obtain most of the items on your list, some of the rarer herbs and reagents not so much," she sighed as Aisa knelt down to inspect the contents, “The wars overseas are making imports fewer and farther between. Even our stores are looking rather sparse for some of our key ingredients. But, just in case, I’ll hold onto your list and store those items for you if they do come by."

"I understand,” Aisa nodded back at Astrid. “Thank you.”

"Anytime.”

"Mhm, yes. This will do just fine for now.” Drawing the sack closed by its string, Aisa stood up, readjusted her fur cloak and picked up her staff. She slung the supplies over her shoulder. “Well, I best be off. I'll be sure to do a once over on your wards on my way out. Can never be too careful around here."

"Especially nowadays,” Astrid murmured wearily in agreement. She tapped her hand on Aisa’s shoulders as she turned to leave. “Thank you again, my friend, for your help as always. Walk blessed."

“Hmm,” Aisa replied with a gentle grunt, walking away. “You too.” 

---

'You should've boarded that boat to Kilé.'

Wisps of smoke meandered before him, guided away by a gentle breeze. Jespar took a slow and steady draw from his pipe and cast his sights across the water to her front door. He tried to think of another place to go, but his conscience would not let him.

'I'd just be running away...again.' He told himself.

Crisp morning air chilled his damp hair, sending wakeful shivers down his back to the tips of his fingers and toes. It was a stark contrast from the swaddling warmth and comfort of the baths. For a moment he wanted to go back in, but the lighter weight of his coin purse made him decide against it. He began to make his way around.

'Why did you even stay?’ Jespar huffed, releasing a smoke stream from his lips. The guard he passed while doing so waved it away from his face. ‘Why didn’t you just sail off to Kilé like you planned to?’

“Excuse me, mysir,” the guard grunted in protest. “Watch yourself.”

“Huh?” Jespar paused in his steps to look back. “Oh. Sorry,” he apologized to the guard, flashing an embarrassed smile.

“Hmph,” the guard gave him an annoyed look, before looking away to resume his post. Jespar continued his walk. He took another whiff from his pipe.

‘Idiot. Fucking idiot. Stranding yourself...Just for her? Why her?' 

Crossing the stone bridge, Jespar made his way down the lane towards Maera’s home. He released the smoke through his nostrils. Another part of him that lingered in the back of his mind continued their unwelcome commentary. 'She's different from the others. You felt it when you two first looked at each other. You haven't felt something like that since-'

'That's such a childish-’ Taking another drag, Jespar blinked and glanced down. The peaceweed was spent. He grimaced in annoyance and tucked the pipe away. ‘...such a stupid reason.'

'If you think so it’s so stupid, why are you even standing here?' 

Jespar blinked. He did not even realize he was already at her door.

He gulped. ‘I shouldn’t be.’

'Well, you did break her heart. If I was her I wouldn’t want to see your dumb face either.’

'I…' Jespar raised his hand to knock, but hesitated. He rested his palm against the wood. His fingers traced the cracks and veins.

'You abandoned her, after promising to yourself that you wouldn't.'

'We were getting too close. It would've complicated things.'

'Yet that very night, you thought of her so intimately. For someone who is afraid of getting too close to others…’ His mind flashed the moments he last saw her, mewling with want underneath him. That night he thought of her so vividly and oh-so explicitly. 'You wished you stayed.'

'Okay, I get it. I fucked up, alright?' The palm he rested on the door tightened into a fist. 'It wouldn't be the first time.'

'Still, the thought of not being able to fix things with Maera terrifies you.'

Jespar unclenched his fist.

'You don't want to lose her. You don't want her to be another-'

'Stop.' Jespar rested his forehead against her door. 'Please, just stop.'

His mind persisted. 'You are tired. Your body is beginning to hurt more often than not and you are not getting any younger,' he reminded himself. 'How much longer can you go on like this? All alone? Wandering from place to place by yourself living job to job with no real place to call home?'

'Why would you need a home if inns and taverns serve just as well? Besides, it's easier this way,' another part of him argued.

'Is it really?' 

'Nothing - no one - to weigh me down.'

'Is that how you see Maera? Some inconvenience?'

'No! Of course not! I…'

Jespar closed his eyes. His mind played a memory of Maera when she first looked back at him, her gorgeous green irises glittering in the morning sunrise. Despite the filthy, tattered oversized robes that he found her in, the twigs in her hair or the bumps and scrapes on her skin, Jespar still found her so very beautiful. At first the attraction was merely one from a distance, and that was all he was up for at the start. He was, after all, one to always appreciate seeing a pretty face. But as time went on, he began to see traces of the woman deep down. Maera was someone who was kind, who listened to him and measured her response with care and consideration. She was delightful company, who made him feel both relaxed and welcome to share his thoughts, always willing to listen to what he had to say. She was definitely an experienced flirt - daring yet mindful at the same time. She was always aware of her boundaries, and though she was free and willing to test them, she knew when to step back in respect. She knew when to give and when to take.

Unlike him.

Jespar found himself wanting to see - no, experience - more of her. He opened his eyes and pulled his head back.

He missed her, desperately.

He curled his fingers and rested his knuckles against the wood.

'You feel something for her - something you have not felt since… well…' 

'You barely know her...'

'Yet once again, here you are..'

The heavy ache in his chest pulled at him. Jespar wanted to hear Maera's voice once more - her laughter and sighs - as she spoke with him and called out his name. The tears and the look of heartbreak in her eyes - when he last saw her - was burned in his mind. He wanted that memory to not just fade, but to be replaced. He wanted to see her smile again. He wanted her to look at him in adoration. He wanted to see just one more flirtatious lip bite from her petal soft lips...

‘Well, here goes nothing.’ 

Jespar knocked.

He waited.

'Do you even know what you are going to say to her when you see her?'

'No.'

The longer he waited, the more Jespar tensed and willed himself to keep his feet firmly planted to the ground. He was not going to run away this time.

A moment passed.

Then, another.

Jespar swallowed. He nervously shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He knocked again. Perhaps Maera did not hear him the first time?

A couple moments became several.

Nothing.

‘Maybe she’s out today?’ 

‘Or she’s stopped answering you.’

Jespar winced.

‘I wouldn’t blame her.'

"Excuse me, Mysir?"

"Huh?” Jespar turned and blinked at the women standing behind him. “Oh, hey. Calia, is it?" he queried and received a nod in return. Beside her was Firespark’s colleague. What was her name again? "And... Lashiri…?

"Close,” the woman replied with a raised brow. “It's Lishari." 

"Sorry."

"It's fine,” she sighed. 

"So…” Calia spoke up. “What are you doing here, Mysir Dal'Varek?"

"Please, 'Jespar' will do just fine. As for what I'm doing here, well…" Jespar trailed off. He looked at the door, rubbing the back of his neck. Should he tell them? How much do they need to know? He glanced at them. "I was…” he hesitated, not quite sure what to say. “I was just taking a walk." 

"Uh huh,"  Lishari remarked, deadpan.

Calia called him out. "You came to see her, didn't you?" she asked. Jespar fought the urge to cringe. He could hear the pity in her tone.

"I- yeah," Jespar sighed, his eyes downcast. "She's not home though," he added.

For a moment the two women did not respond. Jespar looked up to see them sharing a confused glance before Calia turned her attention back to him. "Are you sure? She should be," she asked.

"I knocked more than once. She hasn't answered." Jespar replied. ‘Not that I blame her…’ he wanted to say, but stopped himself.

Lishari gave him a pat on his shoulder. The display of empathy made him curious. Does she know? Does Calia? "Hmm. Let me try," she offered, before stepping up to the door. She gave it a couple taps with her knuckles. "Maera? It's me,” she called out, “Are you there?"

They waited. Nothing.

"Maybe she's out on an errand or a job,” Jespar suggested. “Did she mention anything to either of you?"

"No, she hasn't," Calia answered.

"She shouldn't be on any job at the moment. At least, not anything that takes her out of Ark,” Lishari added. ”Calia and I are supposed to see her this morning. She’s expecting us." 

"I don't like this," Calia thought out aloud.

"Me neither,” Lishari agreed, before knocking on the door again. “Maera!” she called, her voice raised. 

"Wait, why's that?" Jespar looked on as the two women ignored him, worry starting to surface upon both their faces. He began to sense the fear coming from them - something was wrong. 

"Maera!” Lishari yelled out through the door, banging at it with her fist. “If you can hear me, we're coming in!" She reached into her pocket, pulling out a key. With it she unlocked Maera’s door and opened it. 

"What the- you have a key to her house.” Jespar balked. ”Why do you have a key to her house?" 

"She gave me her spare," Lishari responded, her voice trailing as she called out into the house. “Maera?” 

"What-why?!" Jespar asked, his question unanswered as the mage pushed the door wide open. 

"Lishari,” Calia murmured quietly from behind them. “The chain…" 

"Yeah… I saw,” Lishari answered, before stepping in. “Maera?!”

Following Lishari and Calia into the house, Jespar noticed the chain that hung idly by the door frame. He stroked his finger down along its links, recalling that it was not installed the last time he was there. ‘She must’ve had it set up for extra security, given she’s all alone.’ He turned his attention back to the women as they returned from their cursory search of the ground floor. "Maybe she's out after all?" he queried. 

"She should be home. I told her not to go anywhere for the next little while,” Lishari replied, her eyes cast upon the two storeys above them. 

Calia spoke up, “Let’s check upstairs.” She climbed up with Lishari at her heels. 

For a brief moment, Jespar thought to follow them but hesitated. ‘I shouldn’t be here. I should leave.’ He rubbed the back of his neck as it started to flare up with anxiety. ’She wouldn’t want me here, would she?’ He looked around the foyer. His chest ached and he could feel it tighten. He recalled that night - the look in her eyes. ‘After hurting her… and more so since...’ The fearful part of him wanted to leave, another part wanted to be up there with the others. 

‘You came to see her. You wanted to make things right. What kind of person are you if you run away?’ another part of him chastised him - the part he knew was right. ‘She could be sick or hurt, and you want to leave now?’

Jespar followed. 

Calia had come down the stairs from the attic when he reached the second floor. “Nothing upstairs,” she reported with a sigh.

“So, she’s not here after all,” Lishari stated, her voice quieted with worry. The two joined her as she stood at the foot of Maera’s bed, her arms crossed in contemplation. 

Jespar noticed the bed had been left unmade. Walking over, he found a book on elementalism had been left open on the sheets, along with a quill and loose pieces of parchment covered in neat, slanted handwriting. He picked up one of the sheets, reading through her notes. ‘She’s still trying to improve her control on elemental magic…’ 

"This is strange. It appears she did not spend the night here,” Lishari noted out loud. “Usually her room is tidied up before we arrive." She gently bit the knuckle of her forefinger and her brow furrowed. “This isn’t good," she sighed, "Maera needs to be here for me to treat her.”

“Treat her?” Jespar blinked and cast a confused stare at Lishari. “For what?” 

Lishari looked up  at him, as though remembering that he was also in the room with them. He watched as her eyes shifted nervously to glance at Calia, who returned her silent question with an uncertain shrug.

“Hey! What’s going on?” Jespar asked, his chest ached even more with dread, but he pushed forward. “What happened to her?”

---

“Wait here, child.”

With the door closed behind her, Maera watched as Laches made her way down the hall, her boots and cloak leaving a trail of water droplets on the wooden floor. Looking down, Maera realized that a puddle had formed underneath her feet as a result of her rain soaked rags. Though she was now indoors and safe from the storm outside, she could not help but shiver. Part of her wanted to venture into the home in search of warmth, but she stayed.

The Matron said to wait, so she waited.

A low rumbling grunt in the distance broke her out of her daze, followed by panting and clacks on the wooden floor.

A boy yelled out.

"Iri! Iri, wait!"

Maera heard a low, grumbling bark.

A creature with thick graying fur pounced on her.

"Eeek!" Maera squealed, landing on her bottom. Something very warm and wet began slobbering all over her face.

A boy with wild reddish-blonde hair came running down the hall.

"Iri! Down! Bad dog!" he cried, grasping onto the large canine.

Behind them, a slender dark-skinned man wearing blue eye-paint, silks and silvers came rushing in. He looked at the two children as one tried to pry the dog off the other.

"By the Sun! Get that mongrel off her, boy!" the man hissed. Maera felt warm slender fingers pry her away as the boy did the same with the dog.

"I'm sorry, Seda!" the boy whined, trying his best to calm and hold the larger animal. "She just ran off when she heard the door open! She's too fast!"

Seda gave the boy a hard stare before looking down at Maera. He quickly checked her for any fresh bumps and scratches. "Oh, you poor thing! I am so sorry!" he cooed worriedly. Maera glanced up at him as he cupped her cheeks. Maera could not help but notice his eyes were a deep blue. "Are you hurt?" he asked gently.

"I…" Maera found herself unable to speak, taken aback. She does not remember the last time a grown up fussed over her when she was hurt.

"Oh! Seda!" Laches returned from down the hall with a towel in her hands. "There you are. I-" She blinked at the four of them. "My...what happened here?" she queried, a brow raised.

"Sirius lost control of that beast again," Seda replied with a huff, gesturing his hand towards the dog. "She came barging in here and knocked over this little one right off her feet!" Maera felt him patting her on the top of her head.

"She didn't mean to!" Sirius cried out. The dog woofed.

"Boy!" Seda wagged a ring-adorned finger at the other child, his voice snapping. "If you don't train that dog proper, I'll have her chained out in the alley!" he warned.

"But, she didn't hurt anyone!" Sirius argued back.

"My friend, please,” Laches sighed and walked over to him and Maera. She handed Seda the towel and upon unravelling it he began to dry Maera's hair. "No need to be so harsh on little Sirius," the older woman continued, "That hound is the only family he has left. Please do try to remember that and treat her like everyone under my roof." 

Seda grunted in annoyance. "Hmph. As you wish, Matron."

Maera watched as Laches gave Sirius an amused look and the boy returned it with a sheepish yet grateful smile.

"Besides," Laches hummed, "the old girl has many more winters on him, and is likely twice as clever. It's no surprise that she slipped out of his sight."

"Hah!" Seda grinned, his painted lips gleamed with silver paint. He gave Sirius a smug look. "You may have a point there."

Sirius' face pinched in embarrassment. "Hey!"

"Hmm…" Laches looked back down at Maera. Her deep rosy eyes beaming. "The girl does not seem hurt. Are you, child?"

"I...um…" Maera stuttered, feeling like an outsider. She rubbed her head and glanced down at her arms and legs. "I don't think so?"

"Then no harm done." Laches peered over at Sirius. "Come over here with Iri, my boy, and get yourselves acquainted."

Hesitant at first, Sirius slowly stepped up to Maera with Iri trailing behind him. He scratched the back of his head and looked at her with a shy smile.

"Um...hi."

"Hello."

"Tell us your name, sweetling," Seda prompted her with a light tap on her shoulder. When she looked up at him, he gave her a comforting and subtle nod towards the others.

"Mae...um.." Maera clutched the towel for comfort.

"Maeum?" Sirius tilted his head and gave her a curious look.

"Maera," she corrected herself. "It's Maera."

"Ah, Maera!" Sirius sighed with a smile. "I'm Sirius, and this is Iri," he added, petting the old dog in the head. Iri whined. "Nice to meet you." 

Maera smiled. "Nice to meet you too." 

Laches rested a palm on Sirius' shoulder. "Sirius, can you please take Maera upstairs?" she instructed with a gentle tone. "She'll have the bunk underneath yours. I have to speak with Seda."

"Yes, Matron." Sirius glanced at her and nodded towards the hall. "Come with me," he beckoned.

Maera pulled the towel tightly around her. She gazed up at Laches who simply waved her hand in the same direction.

"Go on, child," Laches murmured. "Follow him."

"Um...okay."

Maera followed Sirius and Iri as he guided them down the hall. They passed a number of rooms before turning the corner to a narrow flight of stairs

"Up here."

Upon reaching the third floor, Sirius brought them down another hallway. The walk was silent for the most part, save for Iri's audible panting. Eventually he led them to a room furnished with bunk beds, end tables and dressing closets.

"Here's the dorm I stay in with some of the other kids," he explained. He walked her over to the far corner of the room, straight to the bunk by one of the windows. "I sleep up there. This one down here will be yours."

Maera looked at the small bed before her. She gulped and bundled herself in the towel before gingerly laying her hand on the sheet. Upon feeling how soft it was, she suddenly felt the urge to cry. Did this mean she did not have to sleep on the ground outside anymore?

"I'm sorry about Iri." Sirius' nervous voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

"Huh? Oh." 

"Seda is right," Sirius whined, patting Iri as she nuzzled his hand for attention. "She is my dog. I should be watching her."

"It's okay." Maera smiled and lifted her hand towards Iri. The old dog sniffed her palm curious before inviting Maera to pet her. "She seems nice."

"Yeah. She is." Sirius joined Maera, running his hand gently down Iri's back. The dog whimpered in contentment. "She's always been there for me," he explained.

Maera smiled and giggled.

"Why weren't you?" he asked.

She blinked. 

Around them, the room shifted to a dark void. Iri and Sirius faded away along with the memory. Maera found herself standing on nothing, the floor taken from under her.

"What?"

"Why weren't you there for me, Maera?" Sirius called out to her, his voice still youthful as a child. It had become rife with despair and anguish. "I needed your help, but you did nothing."

"Sirius…" Maera searched futilely in the shadows. Her hands outstretched, reaching for nothing.

"You just laid there," he cried out. His voice aged to what she last remembered but was now laced with anger. "The ship’s captain stabbed me in the heart and all you did was watch as I bled to death on the deck."

"Sirius...I-" Maera felt a stifling knot in her chest. "I was tied up. I couldn't do anything!" she wailed out. "I'm sorry!"

"We always looked out for each other. We took care of one another," he reminded her, his voice shifting back to that of his younger self. Before her, the light of a soul formed from the darkness. "You were my sister, and you just let them cut me down."

"Sirius…" Maera reached out to his spirit but he simply backed away from her. She watched as his soul swirled and formed into him as she last saw him, dressed in rags, blood spilling from the stab wound in his chest. "I never wanted…"

"And now…" His voice shifted back again. "Now, you get to have this brand new life while I get to remain forgotten in the bottom of the sea." Sirius stared at her with disgust and grief. His skin was pale and gray with death. Tears welled in his eyes. "Does that make you happy, Maera? Knowing you don't have me around anymore?!"

His words clawed at her heart.

"Of course not!" Maera cried out in sorrow. She reached for him again, but her hands simply whisked through. "I…" She stared in confusion at her palms before returning her gaze to him. "I never wanted you to get hurt."

Sirius shook his head in disbelief. The tears began to stream down his cheeks. "Then why did you let them kill me, Maera? Why?"

"I…"

"Why, Maera?!" Sirius begged for an answer, "Why?!"

"I don't know!" Maera cried back. "It all happened so fast! There was nothing I could do!" She tried again to reach out for him to no avail. He simply drifted away. "Please, Sirius…" she whimpered as he turned away from her. He began to fade. "I'm sorry." 

Sirius turned to gaze sadly at her. "No, you're not," he uttered, before the darkness embraced him.

"I am... please... believe me."

---

"Please…"

Faint, warm light flickered nearby in the darkness.

Tears welled in Maera’s eyes, trickling down to the pillow beneath her head. Curled on her side, she lifted her hands in an attempt to dry her eyes. The tiny movement stirred a cascading ache throughout her whole body, bringing to attention the stiffness in her neck, shoulders, and limbs. Groaning, she slowly opened her eyes, blinking away the tears and tension from her uneasy slumber. As her body struggled to return to wakefulness, her mind snapped to.

The voices rushed at her at once.

'She's awake!'

'Do you think she can hear us now?'

'Hey, kid! Snap out of it!'

'Come on, now. You all just saw that dream. Give her a minute.'

'But she’s been out of it for so long…'

'Where are we? Can anyone see?'

'Wake up, girl.'

"All of you, please calm down," Maera winced with a groan, shutting her eyes tight as she rubbed her temples in irritation. "I cannot hear myself think."

As the voices hushed, she remembered.

The rain. The fireflies. The moths.

The sound of shattering glass. Agony as the arrows pierced her flesh. The chilling fear as the bandits hunted her in the night.

The rushing blood. The pounding of her heart in her ears. The otherworldly beast that protected her and savaged her assailants. Her fear and fury fanning its flames.

The exhilarating rush she felt as she wrenched the life out of the one that wounded her.

A raven crowed at her.

'Look around you, child.' The voice from that night.

Maera opened her eyes once more.

"Where…"

This was not the Heartland.

'Where am I?'

Instead of lush green forests and open sky, Maera found herself indoors in a small cavern room, lit by the subtle warm glow of a couple nearby candlelights. Whether she was above or below ground she could not tell. The curved stone surfaces from floor to ceiling appeared to have been smoothed out by hand or magic, allowing it to be more hospitable. The bed she found herself in was a space carved into the wall of the cavern, with its flattened stone surface softened by layers of hay, furs, and worn bed sheets. The rest of the room held basic wood furnishings. A barrel beside her carried a small lit candle. A tall bookshelf near the foot of the bed held a small variety of old tomes, baubles and trinkets. Across the room was a desk with yet another candle. Beside it, all the clothes she wore that night was seated or hung on the back of a chair along with her gear.

It was then Maera realized that the only thing she was wearing was an old, oversized linen shirt. A pit formed in her stomach as she recognized that she had been stripped and redressed by whoever brought her here.

'Oh no…'

'Come now, it's probably not what you think…'

‘I don’t know…’

‘It’s probably nothing.’

'But what if…'

“All of you, please be quiet!” Maera hissed. She held her breath as she sat up. Panic stirred in her chest as she carefully checked herself for internal injury and other unwanted marks. After a cursory search found nothing, her fears lessened but did not quite fade away. Who had brought her here? What else have they done to her while she was unconscious? How long has she been here?

A raven called her again.

'No need to fear, child,' the voice whispered in her mind once more.

Maera glanced up. 

The raven was perched at the top of the bookshelf. It stared at her, with one of its eyes possessing a subtle yellow glow. It tilted its head at her before turning to point its beak at the wooden door nearby.

'Come on up.'

Pushing down her fears, Maera tossed aside the bundles of large furs that served as her blankets and climbed out of bed. The moment her feet touched the stone floor, it surprised her to find it warm and soothing, rather than chilled and bracing like the air in the room. It made her wonder where she had been taken. Approaching the chair where her clothes waited, she was pleasantly surprised to find them all neatly laundered. She began to lift the shirt to change back into her clothes when the raven squawked impatiently at her.

Maera gave it a withering look before letting out a sigh. “Please, I don't know where I am, I don’t know how long I’ve been unconscious, and I’m not going to step into the unknown wearing only this shirt.” She turned away from the bird and continued to get dressed. “Just give me a minute, okay?”

It simply trilled at her in response.

Leaving the shirt draped over the back of the chair, Maera made her way to the door. Upon opening it, the raven rushed past her head, flying up the winding set of stairs before her. Maera bit her lips nervously. Her only way out was shrouded in darkness, lit only by the candles from the room she was in. It was also considerably cooler out here, and she could hear the wind whistling in the distance.

"Hello?" she called out, her voice echoing up the spiral steps.

Only the raven responded from above, beckoning her to follow.

Staring up the darkened stairway, Maera lifted her hand with a subtle wave to summon a magelight. 

It did not form.

Maera stared at her hand in confusion and tried again.

Nothing. 

'What in blazes…?'

She tried again and again.

'What is this place? Why can't I-?' 

The raven called out to her again from above.

'Follow him, child. He is there to guide you.'

Maera looked up at the shadows before her. Trepidation fought to hold her in place as more questions rose from her predicament. 

‘This is not sketchy at all,’  one of the voices remarked.

‘Could this be a trap?’ asked another.

‘How could it be a trap? She’s been unconscious all this time.’

‘If anyone wanted to harm her, wouldn’t they have done so by now?’

Forcing herself forward, Maera began to climb. The stairway was much colder than the room below. As the wind hissed and howled through gaps in the walls, she covered her head with her hood, shivering as she felt chilled to the bone. She took each step slowly and carefully, steadying herself against the inner walls of the spiral steps. Even the stone walls felt as cold as ice.

Relief came to her as she saw light at the top and the air became mild once more. Upon entering a large antechamber, Maera found the raven perched on the lip of a brazier carved into the walls. In place of flames, the brazier - and many others like it - were lit by small warm magelights, leaving a comforting ambiance in the room. Walking towards her guide, she took note of the other doors, halls and steps leading this way and that.

‘This place feels like a maze…’

‘I wonder who carved these paths,’ a voice asked.

‘And how…’ pondered another.

The raven greeted Maera with a tilt of his head and a soft chirp. When she approached, he flew up another, smaller set of steps into one of the nearby passages. She trailed after the bird once again and found him just as he landed on the floor by an open door. The raven stared back at her and cawed before flying in. 

As Maera drew closer to where the raven had gone, the alluring scents of warm food stirred an ache in her stomach. It made her realize how famished she was, pressing her feet forward with urgency. Upon entering the room, she found an old woman with her back facing her, sitting by a firepit in the center of the room. She sat cross-legged on a fur rug, focusing on stirring the contents of the cauldron before her. In front of the woman, the raven along with another were resting side-by-side, perched atop the arm of a lounging bench adorned with cushions and a large fur throw. Maera noticed that the right eye of both birds were aglow with the same dim golden light.

"Have a seat, child,” the old woman beckoned gently, waving her hand to the spot adjacent to her. “Supper is almost ready."

Maera hesitated, unsettled by the display of familiarity. As the ravens stared silently at her, the woman turned slightly to her left to glanced over her shoulder at Maera. Her right eye was hidden underneath an eyepatch, and her left was a piercing yellow - similar to that of the two birds. As the crone’s eye peered into her, Maera could not help but feel small.

"Sit,” she added firmly.

‘She’s scary…’

‘She doesn’t look so tough.’

‘All of you, hush.’

Maera made her way over, doing as she was told.

The old woman picked up a ceramic bowl from her side, and ladled out a portion of the stew she prepared. Once Maera settled down beside her, she handed it to her, followed by a wooden spoon. 

”Eat."

"I..." Maera gazed at the bowl in her hands. The stew seemed perfectly safe and smelled deliciously of beef, carrots, mushrooms and potatoes. Despite this and the impatient grumbling of her stomach, she could not help but feel the wariness of the others over this stranger’s courtesy.

‘Could it be poisoned?’ someone asked.

‘Why would it be? It would be such a waste of food.’

‘And poison.’

‘You’d be surprised the lengths people would go to kill you.’

‘Yeah… and if the old gal wanted to, the girl would be dead by now.’

‘Please be quiet, the lot of you. It’s hard to think with all of you talking.’

Noting Maera’s hesitation, the old woman gave her an annoyed look as she served herself a bowl. "You have not eaten for quite some time,” she explained before repeating her command, “Eat."

Maera once again did as she was told. 

While they ate together in silence, Maera tried to think of what to say or ask. She had numerous questions swirling in her mind, but the crone’s mere presence intimidated her from uttering a word. After a time, Maera allowed her vision to wander around the dimly lit room. Her sights landed on one of the windows, partially covered by thick curtains. They wavered from the cold draft whistling in, but beyond them, Maera could see that it was pitch black outside. 

Shifting her gaze away from the window, Maera noted there was a greater variety of furnishings up here compared to the room below. In addition to the cooking area in the center surrounded by pelt rugs and seat cushions, there was a small wooden table set nearby against the wall, accompanied by a couple chairs. Of greater interest to Maera was a pair of bookcases that reached from floor to ceiling, filled with old tomes, scrolls and bundles of loose parchment. Not far from the cases was another table equipped with an extensive setup of alchemical apparatuses, some of which she barely recognized either due to age or rarity. Additional shelves both carved into the stone and made of mounted wooden planks lined the walls, most within a step or arms reach of the workstation. These carried labelled jars, small metal boxes, and ceramic containers. Of the ones she could read, she recognized the names of both common and rare herbs and reagents. 

‘Another alchemist…?’

‘Another arcanist?’

‘Out here? Perhaps a wild mage?’

‘Be careful, girl.’

A voice hissed in the back of her mind.

‘A witch.’ 

"How are you feeling?" the old woman asked softly, breaking her concentration.

"Mm-” Maera swallowed the spoonful she had just taken. “Alright, I think…?" she replied, trailing off. Frankly she was uncertain of the answer herself.

"Hm. That's something, I suppose," the crone muttered. She picked up the ladle resting by the cauldron, and offered her hand. “Would you like some more stew?”

“Oh… I…” Maera glanced down, not realizing until then that she had finished the first one so quickly. Her stomach groaned again in response. Looking back up, she nodded before handing back the bowl. “Yes, please,” she replied meekly. As the woman wordlessly refilled it with another helping, Maera found herself relaxing to the woman’s presence. With another bowl in hand, she finally decided to ask. "I'm sorry but... who are you?"

“Aisa,” the old woman responded with a quick glance, before returning her attention to refilling her own bowl. "I am the one who found you unconscious in the Heartland. You were covered in blood and your own sickness after your little skirmish with the bandits."

“You...you saw that?”

“Yes, thanks to Gin and Nin over there,” Aisa replied, nodding towards the two ravens. “They help me keep an eye on you. They also guided me to you that night."

"Ah... I see," Maera muttered, eyeing the birds before glancing down at her bowl. She took a couple mouthfuls, pondering what else to ask. After several moments of silence, she spoke up. “Um…Aisa, if you don’t mind me asking,” Maera continued, trying to ignore the piercing look from the old woman’s eye. “Where am I exactly?"

"My home."

Maera stopped herself from flinching at her tone. "Which is... how far from Ark?" she asked slowly.

"Far."

"How far?"

"Deep in the northern region of the Frostcliff Mountains."

Maera blinked at her. “How…” she stuttered, her eyes widened in surprise. "How did I end up all the way out here?"

"I ported you here,” Aisa explained with a sigh, as though mildly irritated with having her meal disturbed. "After what happened that night, you fell unconscious, and lying out in the cold rain made you terribly ill. I concluded that since it was far too dangerous for you to be left out there alone, I brought you here to my home to look after you," she added. "I bathed you, healed what I could, and fed you broth and water in the brief moments you were barely conscious." She took in another morsel. "By the way, you owe me fifteen pennies. While I was able to have a tavernkeep down south clean your clothes, I also had to purchase that oversized shirt you woke up in so you had something to wear in the meantime. It's all she had spare to sell, unfortunately, so I just took it."

"Oh. I see." Maera felt another weight lift off her chest, though others still remained. Reaching into her coin pouch, she portioned out the amount owed and handed it to Aisa. "Thank you, by the way" she offered, "I am... grateful."

"Mhm."

As she watched Aisa pocket the pennies, Maera found herself thinking out loud. “So...you’ve been watching me?” she questioned.

“Yes. Since you made landfall here in Enderal,” Aisa replied casually, consuming another spoonful.

“Why?” Maera followed up instantly. The idea that someone has been spying on her disturbed her, and stirred even more questions in her head. 

Maera felt Aisa’s gaze peer into her as the crone contemplated her answer. “Listen,” she began, setting her bowl in her lap, ”when you’re an arcanist who has been around as long as I have, you make a habit of keeping track of others who are coming in and out of your area. More importantly, you do what you can to keep a discreet eye on them to determine whether or not they are friend or foe.” 

Maera stiffened, her nerves burned. “And who am I to you?” she mumbled, indignant.

As though sensing her unease, Aisa sighed. “Don’t worry, child. You have nothing to fear from me,” she added, before returning her attention to her meal. “You may be powerful, but I do not see you as a threat.”

“Oh.” Maera allowed herself to relax a bit at the old woman’s response. She did not trust Aisa yet, but she pushed aside the need to ask further questions. Instead she chose to finish her stew. Upon the last couple bites, Maera set her spoon and bowl down at her lap and waited quietly, opting to look around once again at her surroundings.

The wind outside whistled, occasionally howling against the glass. Maera began to wonder how high up the mountains they were.

"So...” 

Maera looked at Aisa as she spoke. The old woman set her bowl down, leaving the spoon inside before gazing back up at her.

“I assume you have more questions?” the crone offered.

“Oh?” Maera bit her lips. “Hmm.. well…” She thought for a moment on what to ask the older woman. ”Given you’ve been watching me, you do know that I live fairly close to the Heartland, right? In Ark?"

“I do.”

“So… If you knew that, why did you teleport me all the way out here to your home in the mountains?” Maera questioned, “Could you not take me back to Ark?

“I could.” Aisa answered lightly, before adding an abrupt, “But I didn’t.”

Maera tensed, troubled by the crone’s response. "Why not?" she asked.

Aisa gazed at her thoughtfully once again, as though deciding on how to respond. Instead of speaking, however, she simply raised a hand and made a slow swirling gesture with her finger. As she did this, the ground began to gradually rumble beneath them, sending subtle reverberations to everything in the room. Maera watched as threads of her hair began to float and waver around her head, with bright cracks of static sparking between the strands.

Trepidation surged in her mind. The voices began to murmur in confusion.

‘Girl...what is happening?’ one asked.

‘What’s going on?’

‘What are you doing sitting there? Stop her!’

Maera felt her blood run both hot and cold, rushing a bracing sensation through her veins down to her fingertips. Looking down at her hands, her vision began to brighten, the edges shimmering with white light. Frost began to crystalize around the bowl in her hands, even though heat began to form in her palms. Once Aisa’s finger stopped, the bowl in Maera’s hands cracked, snapping into chunks as the pieces became encased in a thick, crude coat of ice. The wooden spoon that she held burst into flames.

"Aiie!!" 

Shuffling back, Maera screamed, dropping the bowl from her lap and tossing the fiery utensil across the room. Before the spoon could hit anything, Aisa flicked her other wrist and caught it with a quick telekinesis spell. As the crone carried it back to them, Maera watched as her finger made yet another swirling motion, but in the opposite direction from the first. The light bordering her vision faded away, returning her sight back to normal. The ground no longer grumbled and the air around her no longer felt electrified. The bowl still remained within the ice.

“That’s why,” Aisa finally answered, staring grimly at the burning piece of wood as it slowly cracked apart before them.

“What…” Maera gasped, breathing rapidly from shock. “What did you just do to me?” she cried, whimpering and clutching her chest as her heart throbbed from panic and confusion.

Aisa simply gave her a sideways glance. "To you? Absolutely nothing.” She tossed the remains of the spoon into the fire pit. “What I did do was simply tone down some of the stronger warding spells I had to put up since I brought you here,” she explained.

"Wards?” As her breathing settled, Maera looked down at her hands. “Is that why I can't-?" Like before, she attempted to conjure another magelight to no avail. "I see."

"Hmm."

"I thought I had... I mean, my friend, she…" Maera blinked. "Wait, how long have I been here?"

"Over a week."

“A week…” Maera gasped softly, as her mind immediately went to her friends. Lishari and Calia must be terribly worried about her, given what they know. And Jespar…

'Would he even care?' 

‘He has been knocking at her door at night, before running off like a coward.’

'You two aren't even talking anymore…'

'He has been avoiding you…'

‘All of you. Please be quiet.”

"Mhm." Aisa's voice cut past the others in her head. "The wards your friend placed on your mind wore out several days ago. I tried to reapply them, but your unstable and peculiarly intense connections to the eventualities - and to the magics therein - more or less shattered them the instant I placed them.”

“Oh.”

“It’s a shame, really. Your friend weaved a beautifully designed spell - she’s a bright one for certain," Aisa added thoughtfully. "However, while it simply blocked your mind from spontaneously manifesting the different eventualities against your will, what really ails you remains to be a problem and - as you can see…" The witch gestured to the frozen bowl. "It is… progressing," Aisa sighed, lifting the bowl curiously to examine it. "So far you've been lucky that only your connections with elemental magic have been adversely affected. If your conditions worsens...well… I do not wish to think on what unpredictable and unstable Entropic energies or Psionics will do to those around you." 

Maera swallowed the dread that bubbled in her throat, grimacing at the old woman’s words. "I see."

"Do you understand now?" Aisa asked, giving Maera a stern and piercing stare. "Do you see why you were brought here?"

Maera felt her body tense and her nerves burn as the gravity of her situation struck her at her core. She cast one look at her hands before glancing back at the old crone.

"What's wrong with me?"

---

“How long has this been happening?” Jespar sat on the bench in Maera’s bedroom, holding his head in his hands with his elbows resting on his knees.  He rubbed his temples with his thumbs, as the weight of Lishari’s words pressed down upon him and sent a burning pit to his stomach. 

“We’re not sure to be honest,” Calia answered worriedly. “A couple weeks? A month? Even she’s not sure how long her magic has been acting up in her sleep.”

“The signs appear to be worsening gradually,” Lishari added. “She’s been lucky so far, with only weak ice magic frosting her sheets.”

Jespar sat up, as a thought occurred to him. “Perhaps it’s just her struggling with elemental magic?” he reasoned. He realized as he asked the pointlessness of questioning the Nehrimese mage. “She did tell me that she has difficulty with it...” he added, his voice trailing off.

Lishari raised an eyebrow at him. “Um. No,” she responded bluntly. “Usually if an arcanist has a weak Glance into the eventualities, their casts are either barely effective or they struggle to conjure it. Period.” She sighed, resting one hand on her hip while the other rubbed the bridge of her nose. “No… whatever is happening to Maera, it’s very much specific to her. I suspect part of it is largely due to her unique aura or whatever the deal is with her being the Prophetess. The other part of the problem is - from what I can tell - whatever baggage she’s been struggling with this whole time.”

“Baggage...?” Jespar looked up at the two women. He hoped his guilt was not evident on his face.

"Well… aside from you, of course," Lishari remarked lightly, her almond eyes glinting at him. Intentional or not, Jespar could not help but feel like she just backhanded him, but said nothing.

'I deserved that.'

"I do know that she is still quite anxious over being found by the Order again," Lishari added, moving the conversation onwards. "When Calia and I last tried to convince her to come back, we upset her so much that she unintentionally burnt the corpse of a bounty she was collecting to a crisp.”

"Maera is also still upset with Arantheal over her trial," Calia recalled out loud. "She never told me what happened exactly, but I can still remember how violently she woke up from her trial, screaming and crying. I've never heard or witnessed such a drastic awakening in all my years living at the Temple. Well... until hers."

"Hm. Come to think of it, she has mentioned a couple things about that day to me as well..." Jespar sat up and crossed his arms, looking up at the ceiling as he attempted to sift through the memories. "Something about,” he paused, trying to recall her words, ”being trapped and tormented by someone who reminded her of her father, who I suspect she is not quite fond of.” Jespar then looked back on the times he spent with her, going through their conversations and interactions with one another. “I have also noticed her reminiscing here and there. Not quite discussing her past, per say - just...hinting at it. Every time she did that, however, she would immediately shy away from it. I cannot help but wonder…” At that instant, the memory of the scars on Maera's back flashed in Jespar's mind. “...why…”

The pit in his stomach suddenly became filled with a sickening dread.

‘Maera…’

At that moment, Jespar felt his heart ache. What was Maera’s life like before he met her? Before he found her lying unconscious in the brush, dressed in rags? Given the few pieces of the puzzle he was able to come across and what he himself has observed so far...

Jespar was afraid he was not going to like the answer.

Yet he still wanted to know. He needed to know.

He had to find her.

‘I need to see her again.'

"Well…” Lishari broke him out of his train of thought. “Whatever she's going through, one thing is certain: Without any formal training, Maera has managed to become an incredibly strong arcanist in an unbelievable short amount of time. The power I've seen her wield would take a normal arcanist decades of practice and study to achieve, and while that sounds amazing at first, I’m worried that if she is unable to keep that power under control, she has the potential to become extremely dangerous to herself and others.”

“So she’s...” Calia trailed off.

“At the moment? She’s a catastrophe waiting to happen,” Lishari stated bluntly.

“I… hmm...” Calia looked as though she wanted to ask something, but hesitated. She crossed her arms and her brow furrowed in thought. “I wonder…” she resumed, “Should we notify the Order about this? About what’s been going on with her?”

“Should we? Absolutely,” Lishari replied with a nervous laugh. “But will we? Hells no,” she added with a vigorous shake of her head. “It’d be a terrible idea.” “Why’s that?” Calia asked, “If Maera is losing control of her magic, shouldn’t we tell Aranthael or at least Firespark?” At her question, Jespar turned his attention back to Lishari, wishing to know the answer as well. 

“If we tell them about her - and that she’s gone missing - they are going to start asking why we did not come to them sooner,” Lishari pointed out. “We’re already facing a lot of trouble if they find out we’ve been keeping her location a secret this whole time. If they also discover what’s happening to her… well…” she grimaced, before continuing, “I don’t want to find out what they’ll do to her if they decide to go after her. I also dread what they’ll do to us if they figure out we were involved in any way.” Lishari closed her eyes and massaged the bridge of her nose with her fingers. “I have a feeling Firespark chewing me out for this would be the least of my concerns.”

At her words, Calia gulped anxiously. Jespar watched as she turned her sights away from them, crossing her arms tightly as though to comfort herself. Sadness and fear began to surface upon her face. “Yeah… you’re right,” she murmured quietly, “Things would not end well... for any of us.”

Seeing the two women become distracted with their thoughts, Jespar closed his eyes and leaned over again, resting his elbows on his knees. He covered his face with his palms and exhaled as quietly as he could, trying to relieve himself of the burden on his shoulders and chest. As he shifted his hands to the sides of his face, he gazed blankly at the floor. He began to wonder exactly how much Maera has told the two women about her magic? Do they know precisely how much she is capable of? 

From what Lishari explained to him earlier, Maera was coaxed by them into sharing a fair bit of information about herself, including details regarding him and the past couple weeks. If she trusted them enough to tell them that much, has she divulged the full extent of her abilities? As far as he can guess, the two women only know about her Thaumaturgy and Elemental skills, the latter of which garnered greater concern for them. But did they know that she has been heavily developing her capabilities with Sinistra magic? With Maera struggling to keep her magic under control, there could be far more to worry about than burned bed sheets or the occasional earthquake. At the same time, revealing that she’s capable of using such magic and potentially losing control over it could have Maera hunted down by the Order. 

Jespar was beside himself.

What should he do? Should he tell them? Or should he continue keeping Maera’s secret from them?

‘Tell them.’ Part of him hissed at him. ‘Tell them, and run the first chance you get. Catch the next boat out of this damned rock and never look back.’

‘No, stay. You have to find her. You have to make this right and help her,’ another urged. ‘You’ve been a coward too many times for far too long. Do something right for a change.’

His chest ached and he felt his throat tighten. The idea of being the one to end up depriving Maera of her freedom sickened him. Despite the terrifying power she wielded, he wanted to believe that she is still the kind, curious and thoughtful person that he knew. Maera also worked so hard and risked so much to make a life for herself here in Enderal. She does not deserve to be punished like those who used such nefarious power to harm and exploit the innocent, did she? Would execution even be on the table, given she’s the Prophetess? No, Aranthael still needed her. He would not risk losing her like that, right?

Jespar closed his eyes, rubbing his temples with his thumbs. Part of him was still yelling at him to find the first boat out of the country as soon as possible. It screamed at him, insisting that none of this was his problem to solve. The other continued to argue against that, urging him to stay. After all, he could not help but feel at least partially responsible for what has happened to her.

Before that night, Maera was fine.

But after…

Jespar sighed.

He had to find her. 

"So..." Jespar sighed, gazing up at both women. They turned to look back at him, "What now?"

---

“Simply put, child,” Aisa began, eyeing the broken, frozen bowl in her hands. “You’re ill.”

“How so?” Maera murmured softly, puzzled by the old woman’s answer. “I feel fine.” She watched as the ice began to hiss and melt in Aisa’s palms. The bowl came apart, reduced to a pile of ceramic shards in her lap. 

“Are you sure about that?” Aisa responded, staring up at Maera with a curious gaze. “Nothing feels...off here?” She tapped a finger at Maera’s forehead. “Or...here?” she added, pointing the same finger over her heart.

“I…” Maera quieted. She began to see where Aisa was going with this.

“You are unwell, Maera.” Aisa stated once more. “Your mind is unravelling, and it’s adversely affecting your connection to the eventualities.” Her palms began to glow with a pale blue light, and the shards began to shift back to their place. “You need help,” she added.

“What kind of help?” Maera asked. “Do I need to find a healer?” She watched as Aisa’s fingers flexed and spun, weaving strands of lights in between the ceramic pieces. 

“No. The kind of help you need cannot be given by your average healer.” Aisa replied, her eye focused on the bowl in her care. “An apothecari might be able to provide you something to help ease some symptoms, like numb your mind with droga. But what you need to resolve your problems will have to come primarily from yourself.” She glanced at her for a moment. “With guidance, of course,” she added.

“I see…” Maera watched as the cracks in the bowl began to mend, but not seamlessly. The light being woven from Aisa’s fingers appeared to act as an adhesive, filling the gaps between the fragments. Upon becoming whole, the light began to fade from the cracks, leaving behind a pearlescent material. “How long do you think it could take?”

Aisa glanced at her, before looking down at the remnants of their meal. With a wave of her hand, both bowls and Aisa’s spoon were whisked away into a nearby wooden basin filled with soapy water. She snapped her fingers, and the water began to bubble and boil. She covered the cauldron with its lid, and stood up. Nearby, a walking staff lying against the wall shifted for a moment, before flying right into Aisa’s outstretched hand. 

“Come with me,” she responded flatly, before walking towards the door, wooden staff clacking.

Maera heard the ruffling of feathers, and both Gin and Nin flew to Aisa like children tailing their mother, with each one perched on each shoulder. Maera stood up and followed her. 

Aisa guided her back through the hall, passing the antechamber and climbing down an unfamiliar set of stairs. The path they took led them deep into the mountain, passing additional rooms, halls, and passages lined with braziers, lit by either flame or magelights of varying colors. The further down they went, Maera found the air becoming warmer, eventually forcing her to remove her cloak. She was surprised to find that every area they came across was also carved and smoothed out in the same fashion as the rooms above. Some were empty, save for the odd shallow bodies of water, creeping moss and plant life. Others held broken and worn out structures and furnishings, primarily made of stone, crude metal or faded ceramic.

“Aisa...” Maera breathed, curious at the sight. “What is this place?

“What remains of a lost people,” Aisa answered, her staff tapping on the stone beneath her with each step. “Long lost and forgotten,” she added, her voice faint with sadness. She glanced over her shoulder. “Come, down this way.” 

The crone led Maera through what appeared to be a large archway. The entrance was marked by standing braziers on each side, lit with pale blue flames. As they ventured further down the magelit path, she could hear the faint sounds of flowing water and feel the warmth in the air begin to intensify. 

“You may want to remove that outer vest of yours as well, by the way,” Aisa remarked, removing her shawl. “It gets quite warm down here.” Maera did as she was instructed.

The chamber they entered was dark and the air was thick with a soothing heat. Standing next to Aisa at the entrance, Maera could hear the water clearly, rippling and streaming with the chiming sounds of droplets spattering upon stone. The old woman raised her hand and with a snap of her fingers, the room began to light up. 

Amber magelights sparked to life on the braziers lining the walls, cascading inwards from where they stood. Numerous, natural hot springs and fountains were laid out before them, varying in size and depth. Each was divided and bordered by water-worn rock formations, winding and leading to the middle of the chamber. The center platform - raised higher than the other pathways - had its edges lined with natural stone pillars. Its surface was engraved with worn yet oddly familiar markings. 

Removing her shoes by the door, Aisa set her shawl down before making her way towards the platform. As she approached it, she raised a hand and her palm glowed with bright iridescent light. Maera watched as the air began to glimmer in intervals all around the room, with crystalline barriers flickering with each flourish of the old woman’s hand.

More wards.

Gin and Nin flew off from Aisa’s shoulders, perching themselves on whatever ledges they could find overlooking the center platform. Sitting down at the edge of the markings, the old woman glanced at Maera, who remained at the entrance. “Are you coming?”

“Oh. Right.”

Slipping out of her boots, Maera folded her cloak and tunic and placed them on the floor, leaving on her blouse and pants. She slowly retraced the same path Aisa took, taking care to ensure she did not slip into one of the pools. The closer she came to the platform, she could not help but eye the carvings.

“Are those...phasmalism markings?” Maera asked.

“Not quite,” Aisa replied, looking down at the pattern before them. “These are older. Much older.” She gestured to the spot directly opposite of her. “Have a seat, child.” 

As Maera did as she was told, Aisa guided her attention to the circular pattern before them.

“These markings,” the crone began, “are those of old magic, where its practice predates any schools known in this era. Like those who used to wield it, its knowledge has been lost long ago.” She gestured to the room around them. “The people that once dwelled in this city used this chamber as a place of healing and meditation, for both mind, body, and soul.” Aisa then gazed back at her. “They also used this place to commune with the spirits of their ancestors and seek guidance from the gods.”

“The gods?” Maera asked, “You mean the Light-born?”

Aisa scoffed and her lips curled in disgust. “Those were not gods,” she remarked dismissively. “Those your people called the “Light-born” were merely children gifted with strong connections to the eventualities, much like yourself. Only their own arrogance saw themselves fit to play as gods.” Her expression then softened and she cast her eye around the room once more. “No. The gods I am referring to are… well…” Aisa’s voice trailed off into a weary sadness, before she bowed her head to return her focus on Maera. “Hmm.. nevermind that for now,” she murmured. “We have more pressing matters to deal with.”

Maera gave her a subtle nod. “Right. So…” She looked down. “These markings…”

Aisa hands began to glow with a soft white light. “These markings - this whole chamber, rather - will make it easier for me to assist you and the souls trapped within your mind,” she answered plainly. “Well, more specifically, it’ll make it easier on you, since it’s going to be quite difficult for you once I start...hm...” The old woman paused for a moment, before adding, “... releasing them.”

“Wait…” Maera glanced up at Aisa. “Why would you need to do that?” she asked, “I didn’t trap them, I just…”

“Started picking them up like stray puppies and kittens off the street? Without next to no knowledge on how to properly care - no - safely handle them?”

“I- hm…” Maera hushed herself. It did not occur to her until that moment, but Aisa brought up a very important point. “I just… when I found them…”

“You... ‘just couldn’t leave them there’?” Aisa remarked in amusement, raising a curious brow before clasping her palms together. As she pulled them apart, the glow had shifted to threads of light emanating between her fingertips. “You know,” she began ponderously, “most practicing phasmalists choose to bind the soul they capture to an object of sorts, usually a talisman.” She flexed her fingers, and the threads weaved together. “It would grant them the ability to summon the soul as a spectral manifestation of its mortal form, bound to their master’s will.”

“I know that,” Maera replied, indignant. “I just…” she trailed off, contemplating the right words.

‘Come to think of it, I have been wondering what we’re all doing here,’ one pondered in her mind.

‘She found me in a cave,’ another remarked. ‘I’ll be honest. Being here is definitely an improvement from staring at rocks for the last century.‘

‘I don’t even remember how long it’s been since I died. All I remember is being trapped underwater until she picked me up.’

‘Can all of you please be quiet? I’m trying to think.’ 

“What? Don’t understand how to do it properly?” Aisa glanced up at her, before casting the threads down upon the carvings beneath them. They shimmered with a soft, yellow light. “I’m surprised, child, given what you’ve been able to learn so far on your own,” she remarked casually, marking unfamiliar runes between the curves and lines with her glowing fingertips.

“No. I…” Maera gazed down as she felt the light shift from yellow to a cool green, sending a soothing sensation through her skin. “I know how to do it. It’s just…When I was reading more about phasmalism and what it entails…” She glanced back up at Aisa. “Look, I’m not exactly a saint when it comes to my newfound abilities,” she muttered, “I’ve messed with people’s minds, paralyzed them, and outright killed them if it meant I could get a job done.” She sighed before looking down at her palms. “But...something about enslaving someone’s soul, imprisoning them within some inanimate object, forcing them to do your bidding for as long as you lived...”  Maera grimaced, and held herself tightly. The thought stirred a burning ache in her belly.

“Hmm. Well...” Aisa smirked as she continued to write. “I am not one to pass judgement on you. I’ve done my share of…well... I suppose what others would deem terrible things.” 

The last of the threads filled the engravings beneath them. As their light shifted from green back to white, Maera could feel the discomfort in her stomach ease and fade. She also felt the stiffness once present in her limbs dissipate, as though being washed away. “So… these glyphs you’ve written on the floor...” she breathed, curious as she watched 

“Do two things,” Aisa answered. “One, they reconfigure the platform to display the state of the patient - in this case, you. Two, they allow me to preemptively store some of my own magic for later use while I focus my attention elsewhere,” she explained. ”In other words, they enable me to temporarily ease whatever pain you have all over here,” Aisa remarked, gesturing her hands up and down her own body as an example. “So we can focus on the pain here…” she added, taping a finger right in the middle of Maera’s forehead.

“Hey!” Maera cried in protest, rubbing her forehead. “What was that for?”

From her, Aisa had pulled a tiny, jade hued wisp of light.  “Just taking an impression of your soul, my dear. Don’t worry,” the old woman replied nonchalantly. The little wisp hovered above her palm, and she eyed it curiously. Its light pulsed, blinking erratically between shimmering brightness and swirling darkness before dissipating. Aisa closed her palm and looked back at Maera. “Tell me child, how many souls have you taken into your care?”

“I…” Maera thought for a moment. ‘How many of you are there…?’

‘Six?’ one of the souls pondered.

‘No, seven,’ another replied.

‘No, there are six of us,’ argued one more.

‘I could’ve sworn there was one more...’

‘Same. Granted, that fella is not much of a talker.’

“I… I’m not sure,” Maera finally answered, “Six? Seven?” She gave Aisa a sheepish look. 

Aisa stared at her. “Blazing hells, child,” she mumbled, covering her face with her palm.

“Is… that bad?” Maera asked, her voice small.

“Well, my dear, it’s certainly not ideal,” Aisa replied with a sigh. “No wonder your connections are destabilizing so drastically…”

“I don’t understand…” Maera remarked in confusion. “I thought having a poor or weak Glance...er… connections to the Sea of Eventualities would hinder my magic, not have it manifesting out of my control.”

“Your connections are not poor or weak, child. Far from it,” Aisa returned, staring at Maera with her piercing yellow eye, “You in particular have immensely strong connections, and with each day that passes they are becoming stronger.” The old woman looked up, stroking her chin ponderously. “I suspect it has something to do with your aura. It’s quite different compared to most,” she noted.

“That’s what Lishari thought when we first met,” Maera recalled, “She’s the friend who designed the warding spell for my mind.”

“Ah yes. The bright one.” 

“Mhm,” Maera nodded, before adding, “So…what’s wrong with my connections being so strong? Isn’t that a good thing for an arcanist?”

“The problem,” Aisa resumed, “is that in order for one to properly manipulate the eventualities, one needs a strong and healthy mind to focus on both maintaining and controlling those connections. But you, my dear child...” Aisa poked her lightly in the middle of her forehead. “You have quite a lot of untreated turmoil in there. Lots of anguish and frustration built up over your lifetime.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Maera responded instantly, “What arcanist - what human being - doesn’t suffer on a daily basis in some way?” She crossed her arms, and stared skeptically at Aisa. “I know there are plenty of people who struggle in their day-to-day lives. Some are better off. Many others are faring far worse.” She tilted her head to the side. “It’s life. What do my daily struggles have to do with my control over magic?”

“Please let me finish, dear,” Aisa offered gently. Lifting a hand forward. she swirled her forefinger above one of the pivots in the glyphs. 

It began to emanate brightly with wispy, pale blue smoke. 

“Once again, to properly navigate the Sea, one requires a calm and healthy mind,” Aisa explained, guiding the brilliant light along the paths. She opened up her hand and the light split up, travelling smoothly throughout the carvings. She raised her other hand with fingers outstretched, and slowly turned her wrists.  “If one suffers from troubles of the mind…” she added, as the lights weakened, losing their hue and slowing down. “One must be properly trained and focused to offset the effect of those ailments..”  The hand guiding the light closed into a fist. The color was restored and the lights returned to their previous pace.

Maera observed Aisa release her hands from channeling, before returning a hand to one of the pivots. 

“Now, with an untrained mind...” She began her cast once again, and from the node formed a light that fizzled and sparked, rather than simmer steadily with smoke. “An arcanist would normally struggle to focus on their connections…” She guided the light, but as it began to move, it was slow and could only split into parts of a split path. Maera also noticed that in some engravings, the light reversed, or simply faltered before fading away. “Ultimately, in most cases, they would fail to reach the eventuality they require to conjure a spell.” 

Maera looked up as Aisa once again stopped her hands. As the engravings became clear, the old woman took one glance at her, and in a swift motion, tapped her gently on her forehead. From it, Aisa once again pulled out a verdant, iridescent wisp.

“With you, on the other hand, the situation is different.” Aisa took the little green light and clasped her hand around it, weaving it into strands before laying them out over the markings. 

The light within carvings changed to the jade hue, before emanating with a brilliance far greater than anything Maera had seen so far. 

“Due to the nature of what you are, you are capable of reaching an immense range of eventualities, and thus, a greater well of magical capabilities.” Without any of Aisa’s prompting, the center pivot flashed, before splitting up wildly throughout the carvings. “However, at the same time, compared to someone with your level of power, you have relatively next to no formal training, and thus have no proper tools developed to cope with whatever stress or challenges you face,” As multiple wisps travelled through, the lines and curves began to crackle and hiss, as though filled with fire. “This…suffice to say… is not ideal.”

Maera glanced up at Aisa. The old woman was not casting or channeling as she did before, insteading her eye was simply observing the display before them. Maera looked back down as her lights continued to behave erratically, bouncing between and shooting past the pivots. Their movements grew faster and faster, and after a time the lights began to warp into darkness, losing all its hue but somehow none of its brilliance. The friction their movements formed in some areas began to spark violently, bursting and crackling like tiny blackened wildfires.

“As you can see,” Aisa concluded, “With a deeply anguished and ill mind, your connections are exceptionally volatile and unpredictable.”

“I think I understand,” Maera offered, “But what does that have to do with the souls I’ve gathered?”

“It’s simple, really. They’re a distraction. Additional noise that your mind has to work through that much harder in order to maintain normal functions.”

‘Did she just call us noisy?’ one asked curiously.

‘Hush. Let the old woman speak,' replied another.

Aisa’s piercing yellow eye stared right into her, as though searching for something. “Listen, I understand why you did it. But despite your intentions in saving those lost souls, you’ve done more harm than good, especially to yourself.” She leaned over and gently tapped her fingers once again on Maera’s forehead. This time, she withdrew a number of wisps - seven, to be precise. With a flick of her wrists, the wisps overlaid themselves upon the shadowlit carvings. “By collecting so many souls without knowing how to properly handle them - by allowing them to take up residence in your mind rather than finding a way to send them off from the mortal coil to the next - you have crippled your mind's ability to maintain stable connections to the eventualities.”

The lights immediately began to travel alongside the same pathways as hers, disrupting their movements and even colliding into them, triggering greater bursts of energy. Maera shifted back, as one of the paths sparked and sizzled a little too close to her legs. She glanced up at Aisa. “I…” she stammered, “I had no idea.”

“Mhm. In short...” Aisa tapped her own head. “The more voices you have running around in here, the more stress your mind endures, the more it struggles to process your pain and trauma in a healthy way, and the more you struggle to maintain control on your connections to the Sea."

“I…” Maera bit her lips. “I still cannot see how they’re-”

“You’ve been hearing them, have you not?” Aisa asked, gently, “Their voices?”

Maera gave her a silent, uneasy nod.

“Those voices you are hearing are hindering your ability to reflect and examine the state of your mind,” Aisa explained, “This unfortunately leads to whatever illnesses or pain you incur becoming neglected and accumulating over time. The longer you keep those souls within you, the more difficult it will be for your mind to process and recover from any trauma you endure. And you, my dear, have quite a lot of it.”

“What are you talking about?” Maera did not like where the crone was going.

With a wave of her hand, the circle reset, returning to its soft, pale glow. Aisa reached over, resting a hand on Maera’s shoulder. She stared into the younger woman’s eyes. “I’ve seen into your mind, child,” she murmured quietly. “Since you’ve arrived in Enderal, I’ve caught glimpses of your memories, your dreams and your nightmares, both from the present and the past.” Her face softened with pity. “You have… quite a significant amount...”

Maera’s eyes widened as she felt a mortified chill rush up her spine. She pushed Aisa’s hand away and shoved her back. “You…I thought,” she shuddered, staring at the old woman in disbelief. “I mean… know you could see the wards Lishari placed on my mind but… to dive deep into my head like that.” Maera held herself once again. “I was already uncomfortable with the idea of you using your birds to spy me. But going through my thoughts and memories like some open book...” She glared at Aisa, hissing angrily, “You had no right.”

“My dear, I am trying to help you,” Aisa argued, straightening her clothes as she sat back. “Whether you want to believe it or not. You are unravelling, and it shows quite literally with your involuntary outbursts of magic.”

“That still does not justify you invading my mind like that...” Maera grumbled, her teeth still clenched.

“What would you have me do? Ask nicely?” Aisa asked sarcastically. “You are a horrifying accident waiting to happen. Had I not dragged you out here into the mountains and put the wards in place...” The old woman stopped herself. She closed her eyes and sighed, “Look… we can argue this another time. Do you want me to help you or not?”

Maera clenched her jaw anxiously and continued to hug herself for comfort. Knowing Aisa could see into her mind like that - delving into her most intimate thoughts and memories - without her knowledge absolutely terrified her. Sure, the old witch was offering her help now, but what would stop her from turning Maera’s mind against her or those she cared about?

Then again, if what Aisa explained to her is true, Maera was becoming - has become - a danger to herself and everyone around her.

What other choice did she have?

“Fine.” Maera spat resentfully. “What do you plan to do to me?” 

Aisa's lips curled and thinned in annoyance. She evidently did not like the change in tone coming from the younger woman, but Maera could not care less.

"Well, for starters,” Aisa began, her voice calm, ”I have to extract those souls from you." She lifted her arms in front of her, with palms facing down and fingers stretched out. Wavering her torso slowly from side to side, Aisa began to shift her arms in a stirring lyrical motion. "Releasing them would clear your mind, allowing you the means to once again process any untreated turmoil that is destabilizing your connections to the Sea."  The engravings began to emit fine, pale wisps of smoke, guided by the dance of the old woman’s hands to trail along the edges of the circle. "However, doing so will take quite some time and it will not be easy, especially given the number of souls you have."

"How so?"

"The ritual I have to perform is an old yet intricate spell. It was designed as a burial rite for the dead whose souls struggled to leave their bodies, hindering them from passing on,” Aisa explained, resting her hands on her lap. The smoke around them continued to trail and meander around them, drifting in wait. "In your case, while the ritual only needs some minor modification, it requires a significantly greater amount of care. I can only take out one soul at a time and I must be careful not to remove yours by accident."

Maera felt a nervous lump form in her throat, but swallowed it down. “Yes… please don’t.”

"Hmph. Don’t worry, child. This spell is meant to target the souls of the dead specifically. It is very unlikely your soul will be separated from your body. That said…'' Aisa glanced around them, guiding Maera’s attention to their surroundings. “While I have taken extra precautions to protect you and your soul with the aid of this chamber, its runes, and the wards I have put in place, I must warn you that the whole process will nonetheless be immensely taxing on you... physically, mentally, and spiritually." Her lips thinned. "There may also be a number of... side effects."

"What kind of side effects?"

Aisa glanced down at the glyphs before them, before tilting her head to the side, looking back up at her. "To be honest, my dear,” she sighed, “I do not know. This ritual was designed for the dead, not the living."

Maera did not like what she was hearing.

"I don't think I have to inform you that due to the unpredictable nature of this... operation, you must stay up here in the mountains with me so I can oversee your recovery."

Most definitely not.

"For how long…?" Maera asked, fearful she already knows the answer.

"I do not know. That depends on you, frankly."

Maera grimaced. She was beginning to have second thoughts. She wanted to go home - back to her soft warm bed, back to her alchemy table, back to the life she had just started for herself. She wanted to see her friends again. She wanted to be there just in case…

‘No. Forget him,’ one of the souls uttered. ‘Remember how he hurt you.’

‘You have a kind heart, mydame,’ another spoke, ‘You deserve someone better.’

The others murmured in agreement.

Nonetheless, Maera’s heart ached, longing for home.

For him.

“Well?” Aisa gazed at her, a brow raised.

‘What do I do?’ Maera asked herself, before her directing her to those within her mind. ‘How do you all feel about this?’

‘Well… if we technically don’t belong here,’ one offered.

‘And we either continue to make you sick, or end up bound within some flimsy piece of jewelry,’ another added.

‘I would like to move on from this world. It’s too depressing.’

‘But what does lie on the other side?’

‘Maybe I’ll get to see my wife again.’

‘My son...’

‘...’

Maera looked up at Aisa. "Fine," she answered firmly.

Aisa nodded. "Mhm. Very well then." She raised her arms again, and resumed their channeling dance. “Do any of them wish to volunteer first?”

‘Anyone?’ Maera’s called out to them within her mind. All of them remained silent. She could sense their uncertainty.

“No?” Aisa asked, which Maera responded with a shake of her head. “Okay. I’ll pick then.”

“What?” Before Maera could react, Aisa’s eyes - including the one under the eyepatch - began to glow, their brilliant golden light directly shining into hers. Maera could feel the old woman staring right into her mind, weaving around and reaching towards the others within.

It felt like she was in there for years.

‘You.’ Aisa’s voice finally emerged, echoing softly in Maera’s head. ‘Come.’ 

‘Oh… me?’ one of the souls gasped. ‘Why me?’

‘Fate does not need to give a reason. It simply chooses.’

‘But I…’ the soul began to falter. ‘I don’t know…’

‘Go on,’ spoke another. ‘Maybe you’ll get to see you son after all.’

‘Will I, mydame?’ the soul asked Aisa, pleading. ‘Will I get to see my baby boy again?’

‘That I cannot promise you, my child,’ Aisa answered truthfully, ‘Wherever your soul may travel is not for me to decide. I can only offer the possibility.’

‘I… alright then.’ 

In her mind, Maera felt the soul reach out to her. A hand that was not there gently touched her shoulder. 

‘Thanks, mydame... for saving me from that crypt.’

Aisa’s voice echoed again in her mind. 

‘It is time.’  

The crone began to chant in the physical world. Her voice reverberating and humming a lyrical hymn in a  language Maera could not begin to recognize. Around them, the once meandering pearlescent smoke began to shimmer, its luminescence intensifying with each chorus.

Just as Maera was about to respond to the departing soul...

Something flashed before her eyes. A loud, buzzing surged through her mind, followed by a deafening thunderous crack.

Her vision went white.

It all came at once.

Maera screamed.

---

Pain surged through her body. Her heart throbbed painfully in her chest. Blood poured from where the arrows struck, gushing at the same rate as her terrified pulse. Around her, horrified screaming and yelling. The beast snarling and howling. The sickening sounds of breaking bones and ripping flesh filled her ears in the heavy rain.

Another snap.

Her head pulsated in agony. Her vision blurring as they were surrounded by the undead. Her arms ached terribly, her muscles straining from the effort of keeping the creatures at bay. Him lying there, bleeding out from his neck.

She began to fall.

They surrounded her - their faces familiar but their voices monstrous. They mocked her. Toyed with her. Burned her soul alive.

She felt herself drowning.

He stared back at her in the depths. His blood still flowed from the gaping wound in his chest. In his eyes, she could see his despair, his terror, but they held no life.

She sank deeper.

All she could see was darkness. Her body ached and burned. Someone pulled at her hair. Others pulled at her elsewhere. One particularly cruel held her down by her neck.

The flames surrounded her.

She watched it all burn. She watched them all burn. Tears poured from her eyes. She looked at their mangled, charred corpses, before resting her sights upon his. 

The iron in her hand burned. 

She held it in her mouth, and began to climb.

His remains were still warm. His bones burned her terribly.

Maera did not care. 

She pulled herself up by his bones and cooked flesh, ignoring the pain as the broken pieces scraped at her skin. Steadying her feet on his hip bones, she grabbed him by his collar, still moist with blood. With one hand, she took the iron out of her mouth.

‘Father...’

With a scream, Maera drove the iron into his skull.

Right through the eye socket.

Again and again.

His bones snapped and cracked from the iron and her fury.

Stab. Stab. Stab.

Maera continued to scream and cry. 

Her throat stung.

Something ripped.

She began to fall.

---

‘Do something!’ From her palm, the soul trembled, as though crying out to her.

Aisa simply watched, overseeing the sight before her.

‘Please, can’t you see she’s in pain?!’ the soul begged, their voice pleading in her mind.

Before them, Maera writhed and whimpered, lying on her side with tears falling and eyes white with a brilliant golden glow. She reminded Aisa of a sleeping dog having a nightmare.

‘You wanted to help her! So help her!’

“Silence.” Aisa muttered with a hiss, quieting the soul.

She had to see this through. 

They both had to.

It was part of the process.

Once Aisa had finished the incantation, Maera’s eyes had begun to glow and she released a blood-curdling scream. She then collapsed on the ground before them, seizing and succumbing to whatever assaulted her mind. The aura of the glyphs and engravings beneath her continued to dance wildly, flashing with colors and lights. 

Orange. Purple. Red. Blue. Black. Orange. Red.

Indicators of the trappings of her mind.

So much anguish.

So much rage.

So much pain.

‘Please….’ the soul cried again. ‘She doesn’t deserve this...’

Aisa ignored them. She did not have to explain herself.

The child needed this.

Maera’s breathing began to quicken.

She let out a desperate gasp. She choked.

She vomited out water.

“Interesting…” Aisa murmured.

‘Is… that supposed to happen?’

Both Gin and Nin began to caw anxiously.

‘My lady…’ Nin began.

‘Do you hear that?’ Gin added.

Nearby, something shattered, then another.

Aisa swiftly turned her eye to look at the wards she had placed in the chamber. A couple had been completely destroyed. Others were trembling, shuddering from the unseen force that was assaulting it.

“She’s breaking them…” Aisa observed. Around them, the ground began to shake. The simmering pools around them began to bubble and boil. The moisture in the air stung and burned. Aisa returned her attention back to Maera. She was now convulsing.

She choked again, sputtering droplets onto the stone.

Blood.

“Huh.”

‘Help her!’ the soul cried out.

Before they could repeat themselves, Aisa encased the soul in a shimmering bubble, and thrusted it across the pools to the entrance of the chamber.

“Gin. Nin. Go,” she commanded. The twins followed the bubbled soul to safety without protest.

Aisa moved forwards and pulled Maera into her arms, cradling the young woman as gently as she could in her lap. As her free hand began to fill with a white, pearlescent glow, she formed a thick, crystalline dome around them, covering the top of the platform.

Outside, the chaos in the chamber calmed. But within, sparks of electricity and hot air swirled violently around them. She flinched; her skin stung from the spikes and elemental fluctuations of the reality around them. 

Aisa held Maera against her, rocking back and forth. She began another chant.

A lullaby in her native tongue.

A song of night.

In her arms, Maera continued to writhe in agony, eyes shimmering with both tears and light. The air around them began to lose its charge, and the glow underneath them began to fade. Aisa held onto her. Her free hand now rested upon the young woman’s head, emitting a cooling spell to ease her feverish mind.

“Dear child…” Aisa murmured softly. “Can you hear me?”

The glow began to fade from her eyes, revealing deep, emerald green irises once again. Maera began to come to. Her pupils readjusted to the light in the room.

“Maera?”

The young woman swiftly responded with a fist to the old woman’s face.

#enderal #fanfiction #oc #prophetess #aisa #jespar #jespar dal'varek #calia #calia sakaresh #lishari #lishari peghast #esme #esme yaleal #enderal forgotten stories #enderafluff #myfics #maera #maera vervain

[spicylief]

Enderal OC Last Names

It occurred to me that I haven’t given my OCs last names, which could raise issues where in-world official documentations are concerned (like deeds, contracts, etc)

So, here are some for the ones I have so far:

Maera Vervain

Chose her last name, prompted by Laches who raised her.

Taken from the vervain/verbena flower, which have remedial properties and can be used in alchemy.

Does not remember her family name. Does not want to/would rather forsake it given her hatred for her father.

Laches Nóttdóttir 

Did not have a last name, for...reasons.

Chose her last name for official documentation.

Means “night daughter” in Icelandic

Aisa Nóttdóttir

Did not have a last name for much longer for similar reasons, also being off the grid most of the time.

Eventually adopted Laches’ for official documentation.

Seda Al’Yaqut (side character seen in Ostian)

Family name

Adjusted spelling. Intended to mean “sapphire” in Arabic

I’ll add to this list as I come up with more~

#enderal #enderal forgotten stories #oc #prophetess #laches #aisa #myfics #myart #enderafluff #reference #quick reference #maera #maera vervain

[spicylief]

Enderal Fics AO3

I did it. My fics are now mirrored on AO3 in their entirety. The Post-Ending | Qyra smut fics are still standalone-ish though. For now at least. :P

#enderal #enderal forgotten stories #fanfiction #fanfics #AO3 #oc #prophetess #laches #aisa #jespar #jespar dal'varek #calia #calia sakaresh #tharael #tharael narys #vynblr #enderafluff #myfics #maera #maera vervain

[spicylief]

Enderal Fanfiction

Here is where you can find the chronological Read Order of my Enderal fanfics. If you lose this on your feed, I will include a link to this post on the blog page as well (under Library)

Mirror to AO3 profile (if you prefer reading there)

Update Date: 2024-03-14

Update Notes:

Added Reverie

~Enjoy!

Nehrim (Ostian) Arc

Stray

Thorn

Wisp 

Balm  *

Winters 

Reverie ***** -added-

Torch

Enderal Arc

Relay

Play

Lost

Found

Sister

Care

History

Flirt

Tired

Eyes 

Ally 

Cage 

Letter 

Brandy

Pairings

Trails

Shatter 

Fault 

Glimpse

Ache  **

Temper 

Knock

Barrier

Beast 

Witch

Qyra Arc

Home - Comic

Senses  *****

Bother - OTP Asks 30.1 - Jespar x Maera *****

Long - OTP Asks 30.2 - Tharael x Maera *****

#enderal #enderal forgotten stories #fanfiction #fanfics #master list #oc #prophetess #laches #aisa #jespar #jespar dal'varek #calia #calia sakaresh #tharael #tharael narys #vynblr #enderafluff #myfics #maera #maera vervain

[spicylief]

Tonight I have gone full send on my scribbles doc into figuring out more headcanons, this time involving my other OCs (Aisa and Laches), The Veiled Woman, the Cycle and the High Ones. But while I want to I’m too afraid to share because I’m afraid it’s bad and people will disagree with it and I dunno if I should. Also I might I spoil things for my fic and aaaaaaaahhhhhh

#enderal #enderal forgotten stories #fanfiction #fanfics #planner #scribbles #aisa #laches #veiled woman #vynblr #enderafluff #outline #massive spoilers #maybe

[spicylief]

Enderal Fic Planner and Scribble Docs

So, as a small handful of you know, I do work with two Google Docs to develop and plan my Enderal fanfic/verse. An even smaller handful of you even have the view-only links to them.

There is one doc that’s a planner/outline and one that’s a scribbles/brainstorm notepad.

I’ll be honest, while I am struggling to get the chapters out, I am writing a shit ton of other stuff within that realm. Since, I know some of you are probably wondering “when is the next one coming out?”

Well...short answer: I don’t know. lol

That said, as an “I’m sorry” for all of you waiting to read more of my fic, well...

If anyone wants the link to the Scribbles doc and the Planner doc for my Enderal fanfic/verse, DM me or comment under the post. 

Reasons:

I cannot post it to tumblr or AO3 as both docs are constantly changing and evolving.

More importantly, they are filled with TONS OF SPOILERS AND UNFILTERED/UNSYNCED BRAINSTORMS WHICH ARE SUBJECT TO ALTERATION AND CUTS.

So yeah...  ye be warned if ye ask...

>.>

#enderal #enderal forgotten stories #fanfiction #fanfics #planner #scribbles #oc #prophetess #laches #aisa #jespar #jespar dal'varek #calia #calia sakaresh #tharael #tharael narys #vynblr #enderafluff #myfics #outlines #massive spoilers #maera #maera vervain

[spicylief]

Brandy

“Ah, there you are.”

Jespar let out a subtle sigh of relief. Part of him was worried that the errand boy he hired would not deliver his letter and ran off with his coin. Another part of him was worried that Maera would receive the letter, but would choose to ignore it. After all, the sad look he noticed from her when he saw her last made him wonder whether he had already ruined their friendship.

Of course, the part of him that was against this meeting entirely was still screaming in his head that this was a bad idea.

Maera looked at him the moment she entered the tower. Her weary eyes seemingly brightened at the sight of him and he felt a gentle tug in his chest. Shaking off the feeling, he greeted her warmly, ”Glad you made it! So, how was it? I heard quite some stories about this ‘trial’ and was never sure what to make of it.”

Leaning her shoulder against the wall, Maera rubbed the back of her neck and looked off to the side. After having a little longer to look at her, it occurred to Jespar that she looked both physically and mentally exhausted. He was beginning to suspect some of the more unpleasant stories about the trial were true. 

‘Yet she still came to see me.’

“It was…” Maera paused momentarily, as though pondering what to say, “...different than what I expected.” She blinked, shook her head, and gazed back at him. “How come you’re still here? I thought you were planning to leave on a boat to Kilé.”

Jespar shrugged. “Yeah. I changed my mind,” he said simply. He caught a tiny smile teasing the corner of Maera’s lips, “Come, let’s go upstairs.” he beckoned, offering her his hand. “It will be worth it.”

She took it, and he led her up.

“There we are… wait a second.” Upon reaching the top of the tower, Jespar knelt down by a small crate of goods he had brought up for that evening. He opened it and began to sift through its contents. He took a quick glance at Maera, who in the meantime was standing behind him, taking in the view around them. He spoke up, “So - wine or pipe?”

Maera returned her attention to him. “Oh! Wine sounds good.” 

“Tirmatralean brandy, vintage 8190.” He took out the bottle and a silver goblet, filling the latter with the former. He handed her the drink. “A real treasure… Consider it a congratulatory gift for passing the trial.” He set down the bottle nearby. “I’ll leave this here for you if you want more.”

"Oh. Thank you..." Maera then noticed his lack of drink. “What about you?”

“I’ve got my own indulgence for the evening right here,” he replied, padding his pockets. As he stood to lean by one of the parapets, Jespar took out his pipe from his tunic and a portion of peacewood to fill it. He observed Maera as she rested on the wall adjacent to him. She looked down curiously at her cup. With a gentle motion of her wrist, she swirled its contents and took a whiff. Her brow raised as though intrigued by the notes she picked up, and she took a sip. She closed her eyes and a pleasant look washed over her face.

“Mm...Thank you very much,” she repeated, her eyes sparkling. “It’s lovely.”

“I figured you’d like it.” Jespar chuckled as he lit his pipe. He took a whiff of his own treat. “Nothing better than a good pipe and a nice sight to go along with it,” he remarked scanning the scene around him. Maera’s gaze followed his as he continued. “It’s always sad to see how few people can truly appreciate these things.” 

Maera sighed, “Yeah…agreed.”

Jespar returned his attention back to her. “Anyways, tell me my friend,“ he began. Maera returned the look. “What is it that drives you? I’ve been asking that myself since we met. I mean, it’s not like anyone is forcing you to play errand girl for Aranthael, is there? And with your abilities, you could make a fortune as a mercenary.”

The young woman took a sip of her drink, her eyes focused on the dark, sweet, fragrant liquid as though contemplating his question.

“Not to mention the danger you put yourself in,” Jespar added. “Securing the excavation site, passing the trial… they certainly haven’t been easy on you so far.”

"I just…” Maera paused for a moment. “I needed to start over,” she stated plainly. “After everything that has happened, I wanted...needed to make a fresh start for myself in Enderal.” She took another sip of her drink. “Aranthael and the Order are just offering a more...lucrative option towards achieving that. Although,” she sighed, weariness clear in her voice, “...you are right. It hasn't been easy, but I’ve managed so far. I do what I have to do, after all."

“I see.” Jespar gently blew out a stream of peaceweed smoke through his nose. “In any case, it’s interesting to see how you’ve gotten from being a magically gifted refugee to the center of all ‘this’.” He crossed his arms and looked up at the night sky. He took another drag of his pipe. “Kind of reminds me of a woman I used to travel with… Lysia,” he thought out loud. “No matter where she went, she always ended up in the eye of the storm.” 

‘Lysia… why am I bringing her up?’

“I first met her... eight years ago now? By the Wise Hermit, time really is merciless.”

‘Blazes, I might as well just tell her how old I am. That’d be attractive.’

Jespar glanced back at Maera to gauge her reaction. He hoped she did not catch his embarrassing slip of personal thoughts. Instead, the young woman was simply returning his gaze with an innocently inquisitive one of her own. “How did you end up travelling with her?” she asked.

‘Well, I started it. I might as well see this conversation through.’

“We got hired for the same job,” Jespar answered. “Usually I work better on my own, but this partnership was... refreshing, in every aspect. It felt good to know someone’s got your back for a change, especially with the kind of work I do.” He looked back up at the sky. “Which is why we decided to stick together after that first job,” he remarked nervously. Jespar kept his eyes upon the stars, somehow afraid to see her reaction. He then quickly added, “And it went great, at least initially.”

Maera kept quiet. Jespar felt compelled to continue.

‘Must you really?’

‘Yes.’

‘You’re an idiot.’

“She was just too…intense, that’s the right word for it.” Jespar sighed, “She wanted everything, and she wanted it at once. The rarest jewels, the most handsome men, the best contracts.” With a nostalgic chuckle, he cast his gaze down on the stone floor beneath them. “If you asked her to steal the Golden Queen’s crown, she would have done it without hesitation, just for the thrill of it.”

“So…” Maera’s voice was quiet...gentle, as though she could feel how - despite his relaxed posture - this conversation was getting quite personal for him. “I... take it you were a couple?” she questioned softly.

“We travelled together, we had sex…” He blurted out. “So yes, according to most people’s definition of it, we were a couple.”

‘That was crude. Was that necessary?’

‘Yes. It’s the truth. Shut up.’

“How long did you work together?” Maera’s question brought him back to attention.

“That was…let me think,” Jespar looked back on his memories, “About three years, yeah. We went to Arazeal, Qyra, Arktwend, and one time, we even fought a group of Petrified on Melée.” He sighed, “She fought as ardently as she lived. I don’t know how I would have survived that fight without her.”

“Sounds like she wasn’t too different from you,” Maera giggled, wondering out loud.

“Oh yes, she was,” Jespar huffed amusingly at her assumption, ”I love a good adventure and earthly pleasures, but I can cope without them. I could always tell a difficult job from a reckless one, and that has kept me alive…” He took another puff of his pipe and exhaled before continuing, “Lysia pretty much lived by one principle: The more extreme a job, the better.” He thought for a moment. “With that attitude, I guess it was obvious that things would go south eventually…” He did not realize his voice had become sad until the words came out. “...one way or the other.”

A couple moments of silence passed between them before Maera spoke up, her voice quiet and gentle again.

“What happened to her?”

“Well,” Jespar sighed, “she started expecting more from our ‘partnership’, our talks and the occasional sex. As she saw it, you either go ‘all the way’ or you don’t go at all.” Realizing his pipe was finished, Jespar tucked it away. He pushed back from the parapet to stand next to the one next to her. He leaned forward on it and cast his gaze out into the wilderness, unable to meet her eyes as they followed him.

“I wasn’t ready for that.”

Another quiet pause.

“So,” Maera murmured, “...she wanted something serious…”

Jespar dared a glance at her. She was looking down at her drink. Jespar noticed it was almost empty.

“Love.”

‘That word sounds pretty good coming from her, doesn’t it?’

‘...’

‘Kinda makes you wonder what else sounds good coming from her...’

‘Shut up.’

“Love as she defined it, yeah.” Jespar remarked, brushing his thoughts away, “Had it been for her we would’ve married after the first night.”

Maera looked back at him, and their eyes met. 

“And what was it that you wanted?” she sighed, curiously and softly.

‘I… don’t know… I don’t remember...’

‘Do you remember Lysia ever asking you that?’

‘You might as well be honest with her.’

‘I...’

“...That’s a long story.” Jespar answered, turning his sights back on the horizon. ”Not one that puts me in a favourable light, at least if you’re like most people. Let’s save that for another time.” Jespar heard her take one last swig of her drink before reaching for the bottle. She poured herself another cup.

“So you split up.” she concluded.

“Split up...Yeah. That’s one way to put it.”

‘...far too lightly…’

A couple moments of awkward silence passed between them again. Jespar cautioned another sideways  glance at her, and she was looking down contemplatively at the brandy. He wondered what was on Maera’s mind. What must she think of him? Was she amused? Unimpressed? Jealous? Jespar started to notice that while Maera was prone to wearing her joy or excitement on her sleeve, indications of all of her other emotions were far more subdued.

It made Jespar wonder how she ended up like that.

“But anyway, enough about me. What about you?” he queried as he settled his gaze on her. ”Has there ever been someone in your life? Or have you always been the lone wolf?”

‘What in blazes are you doing?!’

‘Um…’

Maera blinked at him. Her eyes twinkled. “Am I sensing a subtext here?” she asked with a chuckle, biting her lips through an amused grin. “Not that I’d mind...” she purred.

‘Yep, I walked into that one.’

‘You did it on purpose.’

‘...Maybe.’

“Oh my, is that how you think of me?” Jespar laughed, trying to recover from his questionable lapse in judgement as smoothly as possible. “Can’t two good-looking adventurers have a nice chat on a beautiful evening without implications?”

‘’Good-looking’? Really?!’

“But jokes aside, I think I know what you are trying to say. And as attractive as you are…” Jespar’s mind was scrambling.

‘I just called her attractive…’

“....I’m afraid I have to pass.”

‘I’m a dumbass.’

‘Way to give her all the mixed-signals, you moron.’

The twinkle in Maera’s eyes faded, and she looked away. "Oh...alright." her voice became quiet again and she took another sip of the brandy.

‘You’re confusing the poor girl…’

"Maera… I…” Jespar resisted the urge to cover his face in his hands in obvious embarrassment. “Listen… Maybe the entire thing with Lysia was enough for me. Sex is fine, but I guess I’m just not… naive enough for anything else anymore.” He looked up at the stars. “Love, love, love… People have such lofty expectations these days, really. Sometimes I think it would help us all to admit that there isn’t much that separates us from the apes.”

“Sorry, but I don’t get it,” Maera sounded rightfully confused by what he was telling her. “You are attracted to me, but you don’t want to do anything about it?”

‘Yes I do!’

‘NO! I don’t!’

‘You’re fooling yourself!’

‘Shut up!’

“I… No. That would just complicate things, believe me.” Jespar glanced at her and she returned the look at the same time. “And I can hardly imagine that a woman like you doesn’t have at least a hundred options to choose from.”

‘Did you have to say that?’

‘It’s the truth!’

‘Yes, but it’s evidently still not helping.’

The moment those words came out of his mouth, Jespar noticed a sad, stricken look cross Maera’s eyes. She looked as though his words brought up something from within her. She quickly hid it by returning her gaze back to her drink.

‘That’s…’

‘What was that about?’

After an uneasy number of seconds, Maera spoke up, her voice soft but flat. “Maybe they don’t interest me as much as you do.”

“Oh come on, that’s just corny.” Jespar tried to laugh it off, “You don’t even know me.”

‘By the Wise Hermit, read the fucking room.’

‘I’ve upset her.’

Jespar kept going, regardless of her reaction. “You see, this is exactly what I meant with ‘lofty expectations’,” he blurted out, “We’re here, we get along, and we’re having a good time. Why the need for all this sentimental stuff?” He nudged her shoulder with his elbow. “I like you, let’s just leave it at that, okay?”

Maera did not respond. She simply stared down at her cup.

‘She’s definitely distressed.’

‘What did I do?’

‘I have no idea…’

Jespar tried to change the subject. 

“Why don’t you tell me a little more about this trial?” 

The young woman hid it well, but he could hear her taking in a deep breath. After he heard a barely audible sigh from her lips, Maera looked back at him, her expression blank. 

‘That’s a wall.’

‘There is definitely something behind it.’

“I heard you passed it together with that quiet girl, Calia.” Jespar shook his musings away. “What is she like? I’ve heard some stories about her.”

“Calia…” Maera sighed and looked up at the sky, as though contemplating her answer in order to move the conversation along. “She’s nice… friendly, actually. I don’t know her all that well, but from the brief couple hours I spent with her, I think she’s alright.” She looked down at her drink and took another sip. “As for whatever stories you’ve heard, I don’t think you should believe them entirely. I suspect they don’t come from an empathetic point-of-view.”

“Oh?” Jespar sighed, grateful that the subject has changed.

“Mhm. Another novice that was with us for the trial - Dunwar.” Maera grimaced as she uttered his name. “He was rather rude to her and called her... a variety of things that were unkind. I suspect a fair amount of the Order share his perspective too.”

“Huh…” Jespar pondered for a moment. “Is there any truth to the rumors though?”

“Well,” Maera hesitated, as though uncertain of what words to use. “I have a feeling she doesn’t deserve the hostility that people direct towards her. In fact...” She took another nip of the brandy. ”...from what I can tell and what she’s told me herself, I think her story is rather sad.”

“I see.”

“Calia’s been very kind to me otherwise... her and Lishari.”

“One of Bushy Beard’s mages?”

“Mhm,” Maera nodded. “Lishari was actually the one who coaxed me into joining the Order. I was...avoiding Aranthael and the Order for a while beforehand.”

“I was wondering what all the worried muttering was about,” Jespar responded. He recalled his visit back to the Temple after refusing the boat to Kilé. “At first, I just heard the usual ‘give her a day or two, she’ll come around’ bit. But after a while… well… Arantheal was starting to look a bit agitated. I was curious if and when he might actually snap at someone sooner or later.”

“I bet.”

“You were apparently missing for a couple weeks?” Jespar turned to lean his back against the parapet, restfully crossing his arms.

“Yeah…” Maera sighed, “I trudged back to the Sun Coast and stayed at Riverville for a little bit for some work. I mostly helped out the locals with their issues, did some reagent gathering, alchemy work, bounty hunting and so on.” She swirled the goblet gently in her hand before taking another gulp. “I didn’t want to deal with the Order or the Grandmaster… not after that first little conversation I had with him. I only came back to Ark because I did all I could out there.”

“How bad was that conversation?” Jespar raised a curious brow at her. “Was it really enough to refuse work from the Order? They do pay very well and I imagine it could easily help you get your life started here on Enderal.”

“It’s…” Maera looked at him, questioningly, “While I was gone, did any of those up at the Temple ever tell you what I was? My whole role in this...whatever you want to call it?”

“The Cycle and the Cleansing? Firespark mentioned it to me in passing when I asked about you and I did peek at a couple of his notes regarding Emissaries when he wasn’t looking.” Jespar responded, thinking back to the time she was gone. “Aranthael called you ‘Prophetess’ if I remember hearing him correctly. He was ordering a couple of the Keepers to go out into the city to look for you.”

“Mhm.”

“Apparently, we’re in the midst of some end-times scenario.’

“Yeah, and I...” Maera trailed off.

“...didn’t take it well.” Jespar concluded out loud, finishing her sentence.

“Imagine being me during the days leading up to you bringing me into Ark, only to find out I’m a key figure in stopping the end of the world?” Maera looked at him witheringly. “How would you take it?”

“Not any better, I imagine,” Jespar answered, plainly and honestly.

“Mhm.” Maera took another sip of the brandy.

“I see. And what changed your mind?”

Maera blinked, staring at him in the eyes. He saw her contemplating before carefully setting her drink down by the bottle. She reached for something in her pockets and handed him a small piece of parchment.

“What’s this?”

“Bank receipt.”

Jespar let out a sharp whistle at the numbers he saw.

“I’m eyeing that place by the bathhouse.”

“You’re... almost there…” Jespar could not believe what he was reading. 

‘She’s only been in Enderal for less than a month and has accrued this much. She’s insanely fast.’

“I just need a couple hundred more to get the place. Although I still need about two grand to furnish it though.”

“This is still incredibly impressive.” Jespar looked at her, handing her back the receipt. “If you work with the Order, you could have everything you need in no time.”

“Yeah...about that…” Maera pocketed the parchment and picked up her drink. She turned around to lean against the parapet, gazing at the scene around them. “I… I think I made a mistake, joining the Order.”

“What makes you say that?”

Maera looked down. For a brief moment, Jespar noticed a flash of fear and frustration in her eyes. She closed them, and downed the remainder in her cup...

...and poured herself another.

‘Wine was the right call, it seems.’

“So, you were asking me earlier about the trial,” Maera began, biting her lips. “...well, I don’t know if the stories you heard about them are true, but for me…” She trailed off into thought, gently swirling the goblet before taking a sip of the brandy.

Jespar watched her face intently in an attempt to understand her. 

“Well, first they brought us out into the Whisperwood...to some ritual site.”

“The First Foothold. I’ve heard about it,” Jespar commented out loud.

“Yes, that place,” Maera nodded. “When we were there, they had us recite some vows.”

“Okay, seems normal so far…”

“...and had us drink this weird concoction.”

Jespar blinked at her. “Okay, that’s a little weird, but not unheard of when it comes to religious rituals.”

“I felt a little sick…. and blacked out,” Maera added bluntly.

“That’s...a little more unsettling.” Jespar stared evenly at her. “I’m guessing you didn’t expect that, did you?” 

Maera looked back at him and shook her head. “No, and that was the only good part.”

“And the bad part?”

They shared a look. Despite her calm expression, Jespar was starting to recognize the emotions in Maera’s eyes, albeit they were still very well hidden. 

This time around, she looked...haunted?

“I…” Maera turned her sights away from him, as though she was able to notice him reading her. “I found myself trapped, locked in some...prison, and I wasn’t alone.”

“Anyone you know?” he queried.

“Not...quite.” Maera paused for a couple moments. “He said a couple things about me, telling me things I did not want to hear or believe.”

“What did he say?”

“That I was lured into a trap. That I’m a fool and that I am actually dead… that all of this…” Maera gestured to the world around them with a wave of her hand. “Everything I’m experiencing up until now, like our conversation...” She glanced at him and tapped her temple with her fingers. “It’s all in my head...as I’m drowning - dying - in the bottom of the sea.”

Jespar stayed quiet to let her continue.

Maera’s voice hushed in sadness. “He made it sound as though you and I never met. Like you’re a figment of my imagination and none of this is real.”

Jespar watched her stare at her drink, lost in her miserable thoughts. Worried, he tapped her shoulder in an attempt to snap her out of it. “You don’t believe that, do you? I mean…” He tried to think of something reasonable to calm her fears. “You passed the trial, and you’re here. You must’ve been able to see through whatever lies he was trying to tell you.”

“For the most part, yeah, I don’t believe him, but...” Maera replied quickly but her voice was faltering. “...a small part of me thinks that there is some truth in what he was telling me. I’m just not sure what…” 

“It could be just your mind playing games on you… it has been known to do that to people. Besides, you are only human.” Jespar pondered out loud.

“I suppose…” Maera did not sound convinced regardless of his attempts to comfort her. “He also said a couple other things…” she continued, “As I listened to him, he began to remind me of someone…”

“Oh? Who?”

Maera glanced at him, and he returned her gaze. For once, she allowed him to see the fear and anxiety plainly in her eyes. 

“My father.” 

‘Please don’t ask me about him.’ Her eyes begged him.

‘I won’t.’ He returned with merely a nod. 

“I see.” 

They looked away from each other, and both allowed a couple moments of silence to pass. Jespar waited patiently as Maera topped off her drink, taking another sip before continuing. 

“You were there too…” she murmured quietly.

“Was I?” Jespar responded gently, curious.

“Mhm.”

“Did I frighten you too?”

“Not...really...?” Maera answered, and Jespar oddly found himself relieved to hear it. “I mean, I began to realize pretty quick that it wasn’t you. But…” She was beginning to fumble her words a bit. Jespar suspected the brandy was starting to affect her. “Yeah, you did… or at least someone who looked like you began to scare me, along with others from recent memory, even those I’ve lost.” Maera leaned against him, shoulder to shoulder. “They were all saying some...pretty terrifying things. Some hurtful… most of it ominous.” She closed her eyes. “Then their voices began to change into something...inhuman. All of them yelled at me and I…” She trailed off.

“What happened?”

“It was over. I woke up, screaming.”

Jespar kept silent.

“Calia had to hold me down and snap me out of it. Apparently, I was utterly delirious...” She stared at the wine in embarrassment. “She was afraid I would hurt myself in my sleep…”

“That sounds like quite the nightmare.” Jespar noted, stroking her shoulder to comfort her. “Definitely unpleasant.”

Maera nodded, and continued to nurse on the remainder of the brandy in her cup.

“So...now…” Jespar gently coaxed her to continue.

“I…” Maera started, and sighed, “I don’t want to go through with the ceremony...or even go back, period. Back to the Temple, to the Order…to Arantheal.” 

“Hmm...yeah, I can understand why. After all that with just the trial... and having the fate of the world being dumped on your shoulders out of nowhere…” Jespar thought about her whole situation out loud. “You just want to be left in peace, basically,” he concluded.

“I want my own life,” Maera clarified. “I can live with a little bit of adventure now and then...but nothing close to what Aranthael is expecting from me.”

“That seems pretty reasonable, actually.” Jespar agreed with her. He glanced at her, “Knowing how you started out when you first came to this country...If I recall, you basically had nothing.”

“Well...” Maera looked back at him. A shy smile teasing the corners of her lips. ”I had you,” she murmured gently and honestly.

‘Okay, I’ll give you that.’

“Yes, you did.”

Maera giggled softly and leaned her head against his shoulders, blushing. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” 

“It’s alright.” Jespar simply chuckled. ”I’ll let the drink take the credit for that. You seemed to have enjoyed my gift quite a fair bit tonight.”

“Have I?” Maera pulled back. She furrowed her brow and picked up the bottle. She gazed at the brandy curiously in the light of the nearby brazier and noticed it was now down to half. She sighed, “Oh dear...so I have.” Jespar laughed at her nonchalant response. Placing the bottle back down, Maera pouted at him, failing to hide a grin from her lips. “I’m glad you find my slight drunkenness amusing.”

“I am, very.” Jespar nudged her with his shoulder, prompting another giggle from her.

‘She’s adorable…’

“It is really delicious. Again, thank you,” Maera murmured graciously, leaning against him again.

“You’re very welcome, fair lady,” Jespar replied, his voice low and gentle.

After a relaxed sigh, they let another couple peaceful moments pass between them. Jespar watched as Maera’s fingers traced the engravings on the wine goblet. He observed her hands, and felt as though he was peering into her thoughts. In her tipsy state, Jespar could sense Maera internally debate whether to move her hands closer to his.

‘Please...do it…’

Slowly and nervously, Maera released the hand next to his from her cup, and allowed her pinky finger to brush lightly against the side of his hand. 

It was the tiniest and gentlest of touch, but it struck him, hard.

‘Please...give me more…’

Jespar returned the gesture. He allowed his own finger to stroke hers back. It was very subtle, but he heard the tiniest gasp escape from Maera’s lips.

‘Don’t do this….This is dangerous…’

‘Stop…’

“So…” Jespar pulled his hand away and clasped his hands together, hoping to brush the moment away. “What do you plan to do now?”

Maera took in a sharp breath and shifted away herself, as though coming to her own senses as well. “Well I…” she began and trailed off and looked into the horizon. “I...don’t think I can go back. Not after what happened…”

“You’re going to avoid them again?” 

“At least for a little while…” Maera replied, honestly. “I’ll probably grab one of the other rooms at the Dancing Nomad in the meantime, at least until I get the place. Like you said, I’m not that far off.”

“Right.” Jespar nodded unconsciously, stroking his beard.

“You won’t tell them what I told you, will you?”

“I won’t. Don't worry,” Jespar assured her. He then shrugged, “It’s not my place to tell them, anyways.”

“Thank you.”

“Mhm.”

Another pause.

“Do you disapprove?” Maera queried.

“Of your choice? Not really.” Jespar answered. “As far as I’m concerned, you should be able to live your life the way you want.”

“I…” Maera hesitated, “I still feel guilty though. I mean, even if I feel a little bit coerced into it, I still agreed to join them.”

“Yes, but,” Jespar poked her shoulder, “When you agreed to join them, they weren’t exactly forward about drinking a strange potion that made you black out, followed by an experience with terrifying nightmares… and that’s just to start.”

“Yeah...that’s true.”

“Listen, don’t feel too bad about putting some space between yourself and the Order for a little while. How you feel is completely reasonable, and at the very least you tried to give them a shot.”

“Am I wrong for running away from them?” Maera wondered out loud.

“Honestly…” Jespar mused, “Hm… That’s just life, I think. There comes a point where you’ve done all you can.”

“Mhm…” Maera took another sip of her drink.

As the air around them began to chill, Jespar was beginning to feel his shoulders ache with fatigue. He looked over at Maera, and noticed her blinking, as though fighting to keep her eyes open.

“My, my, now we’ve certainly lost track of time, haven’t we?” Jespar yawned, covering his mouth and arching his back to stretch. 

Maera watched him, her lips not leaving her drink. “Mhm…” she sighed, taking one more sip.

“I really need to hit the hay for a couple hours now,” he murmured, letting out another yawn. ”I have to go look for some new work tomorrow and I have heard about a nobleman who is looking for a sellsword. That is if Arantheal or old Bushy Beard doesn’t have a new job for me by then. Say what you want about them. The pay is beyond generous.”

“Mm,” Maera nodded at Jespar, giving him a warm smile. 

“Would you like me to walk you back to the Dancing Nomad?” Jespar asked kindly.

Maera shook her head. “No thank you. I appreciate the offer, but I think I’ll be alright.” She raised her cup. “I’m just gonna finish this little bit and enjoy watching the stars for a little while longer.”

“Alright, Maera.”

“Have a good night,” she added, before taking another gulp of the wine he had gifted her.

“I’ll see you around, my friend.” Jespar cast her a warm, sidelong nod before he turned away, and Maera returned her gaze up to watch the stars. 

“Jespar?” she called out to him.

“Yes?” he called back, picking up the small crate he had brought with him earlier.

“I…” Maera paused for a moment, “I am glad you decided to stay...in Ark, I mean. I enjoy your company.”

Jespar stared at her, her back still facing him as she continued to gaze upon the sky above. For a brief moment, he wanted to speak with her a little longer, but decided against it. 

There was always tomorrow, after all.

“Likewise,” he responded simply, “Good night, fair lady.”

#enderal #fanfiction #oc #prophetess #jespar #jespar dal'varek #enderal forgotten stories #enderafluff #myfics #vynblr #maera #maera vervain

[spicylief]

Fault

“Here. I believe this is what you’re looking for.” 

Jespar opened his eyes and looked up. Aisa found him sleeping against the wall by the door, with Maera cradled in his arms. The young woman was slumbering peacefully.

The old woman bent down, and placed the Pyrean Cube by his side. 

“Oh...yeah...” Jespar muttered wearily, his eyes glazing over the artifact. He picked it up for a quick glance, before setting it back down. He returned his sights back to Aisa. “Thank you, mydame...for everything.”

“Hm,” the old witch merely grunted as she stood up. She clasped her hands around her staff. “How is she?” she asked, nodding towards the woman in his lap.

Jespar gazed back down at Maera. He raised a hand and brushed a couple hairs away from her face, checking her forehead with his palm. “Well, her fever is gone more or less. She’s just sleeping now.”

“Good.” Aisa sniffed, and tightened the fastenings on her fur cloak. “Stay with her until she awakens.”

“That’s the plan…” Jespar murmured with a sigh.

Aisa reached for the door. “I’ll be off then.”

“Mydame…” His voice gave her pause.

She looked down at him. “What is it, boy?” He gazed up at her.

The young man gazed up at her and hesitated, seemingly uncertain of what to say.  “Who are you? What's your name?“

“I'm just a friend.” she replied tersely.

“I see… Does she know who you are?”

Aisa smiled. “Not yet.”

Jespar raised a brow, perplexed. “What should I tell her when she wakes up?”

“Just tell her a strange woman showed up and saved the day… it’ll be enough.”

The poor boy looked even more confused. “Oo...kay…” he muttered, gazing back down at the young woman. “Goodbye then.”

“Farewell, child.” With a nod, Aisa opened the door and left.

---

It was warm.

‘Wake up…’

“Maera?”

It surrounded her.

She felt safe. Happy…

‘You need to wake up.’

‘I want to stay here…’

“Can you hear me?”

‘Jespar?’

The smell of leather, sweat and dried blood struck her first, along with the faints scent of peaceweed.

“Please say something…” she heard him whisper.

Maera slowly opened her eyes, groaning.

‘Pull yourself together, woman,’ one urged her.

‘Give her a minute,’ another scolded.

Bright, blinding light began to shine through the darkness. She winced in pain.

“Jespar…?” she cried out weakly, rasping as she tasted something metallic on her tongue.

Maera suddenly remembered.

The golem. The undead. Her collapse.

The danger they were in.

Her eyes shot open.

“Jespar?!” Maera cried out, lunging forward.

...followed by a sharp pain to the face.

Something cracked.

“OW!” Jespar yelled loudly from her side.

Covering her face, Maera hissed, her forehead taking the brunt of the impact. Blinking away tears of pain, she looked frantically around her.

It took her a second before her vision cleared and she realized she was sitting in Jespar’s lap. 

‘Isn’t this…?’ Confusion swept across her mind.

They were at the entrance of the ruins.

They were fine.

‘What…?!’

“What...where…?” Maera turned to look at him. Jespar had his hands on his nose, as blood was trickling from his nostrils.

“Oh...hey…” Jespar replied shakily with a pained grin and crooked nose. “How are you feeling?”

“Aah! Jespar!” Maera realized in an instant what just happened. “I’m so sorry!” she cried, raising her hands to his face.

“Glad to see you’re alright…” he added with a weak chuckle. He hissed as her fingertips brushed lightly on his bridge. “Eeuuhh..”

“I’m so sorry, Jespar…” Maera cast a gentle healing spell on his nose. “I didn’t mean to…”

“I know,” Jespar responded. He let out a grunt as she set it back in its place with a dull pop. "It’s alright, really," he added, wincing.

With a relieved sigh, Maera finally had the chance to look around them again. She noticed the Pyrean Cube on the ground beside them.

“That’s...”

“Yep.”

Maera looked up at him in utter confusion.

“What happened? I thought...”

“Some strange woman saved our asses,” Jespar replied with a shrug. “She came out of nowhere, dealt with those… things attacking us.” He picked up the cube. “One thing led to another...and next thing I know, we’re out here with this stupid thing.” 

“Huh…” Maera simply stared at it, dumbfounded.

‘Was it the Veiled Woman? Did she save us?’

“Anyways…” Jespar placed the cube back on the ground. His eyes then focused on their hands. He idly played with her fingers in contemplation. “I think we need to reconsider finding the last artifact...”

“Huh?” Maera glanced at him, and he looked back up at her. “Are you sure?”

“I should’ve pulled us out the moment I noticed this place was making you sick,” Jespar replied with a nod. “I took the job. Considering I’m likely the one with more experience on this sort of thing, it was my fault this run nearly got us both killed. I don’t even want to think about what lies in the ruins out in the desert.” He raised his hand and held her cheek in his palm. “You almost died trying to protect me and I don’t want to risk that happening again. I say we hand this in, receive our payment and be done with this job altogether.”

“Yeah…alright...” Maera sighed and held his hand in hers. She did not realize it until that moment, but looking at their hands together, it surprised Maera how much smaller hers was compared to his. She also noticed dried blood, both on his hand and on his collar.

Seeing that stung her. 

‘This was your fault…’

“I’m sorry too… “

“For what?” Jespar gave her a curious glance.

“I should’ve been more aware of what was happening to me. You did check to see if I was alright - numerous times - and I just brushed it off.” Maera felt a tightness in her chest. “I was reckless,” she added shakily.

“Eh..” Jespar gave her a shrug. “Neither of us realized how dire the situation was until it was almost too late. Shit happens…not every job will go smoothly. Fortunately for us and by some weird twist of fate, we got out alright. Isn’t that what matters at the end of the day?”

“I guess…” Maera still felt guilty. In her mind, Jespar was being too patient and kind with her. Even if the ruins did not affect her, it was still foolish of her to press them onwards in such unknown territory when she was becoming ill. It was an unnecessary risk that she decided to take, and she almost paid for it with both their lives. She closed her eyes, and cast her head down, covering her mouth with her hands to prevent herself from tearing up.

“Hey, hey…"  She could feel Jespar reaching for her. "Don’t beat yourself up over it," he sighed soothingly, pulling her hands away from her face. With his fingers, he raised her chin up to look back at him. “We’re alive. We’re okay."

‘That doesn't change the fact that I almost got us killed in the first place…’

Jespar pulled his hand away from hers and held her face in his palms. He stared at her empathetically. “Look. If it'll help you feel better,  just invite me over to dinner once in a while after you get settled into your new home, and I’ll call it even. Okay?” Maera gazed at him silently. She was still unconvinced, but did not want to argue with him. 

After a moment, she nodded, sniffling.

“Alright.”

“Good. Let’s get out of here.”

---

After over an hour, they finally exited the ruins.

Observing them at a distance, Aisa smiled, watching the couple make their way back to the Tavern.

“Well…”

A voice spoke from behind her.

“This is the first time in eons that I’ve seen you interfere directly.”

Aisa ignored her remark.

“It’s surprising… unusual.”

“I’ve got an odd feeling about this one…” Aisa looked back at her with a smile. “I’m curious to see where her thread leads.”

The woman standing before her returned her smile. 

“As am I.”

#enderal #fanfiction #oc #prophetess #jespar #jespar dal'varek #aisa #enderal forgotten stories #enderafluff #myfics #maera #maera vervain

[spicylief]

I officially take this as permission to take more liberties. I am more or less likely stretching the timing of stuff now in my fics.

@cat-with-a-keyboard

#enderal #vynblr #enderal forgotten stories #enderafluff #fanfic ideas #delete this post later

[spicylief]

Guess who’s tormenting her OC?

This bitch.

...and also Jespar because I’m naughty.

#enderal #oc #prophetess #jespar #jespar dal'varek #fun stuff #enderafluff #maera #maera vervain