Woah, so that was where the second one had gotten off to after the gust!

"The griffin seems to be agitated by the blue substance on your boot..."

...Hmm? Ah. Odd, it wasn't glowing like that before...but they also hadn't been in an area with this much light previously either, so...

Briefly admiring the scintillating blue under the obelisk's expansive rays, the hunchback proceeded to violently scuff it off the end of his boot, shaking the squelching fibers free of as much excess as possible; It wasn't exactly brand new, but he'd never been particularly picky about the state of his funeral attire anyway. Taking a cue from Golde, Ifor sought to maintain as neutral an expression as he possibly could before the crouched wonder...a task that required moderately more effort than he needed to breath. Pity, now his composure was broken.

An agonized moan erupted from behind the creature, and like clockwork the moon suddenly seemed to shift in response. What brazen shadows had previously remained peeled away in retreat from their master's gaze, and -perhaps quite unfairly- the entirety of the posse was suddenly made quite clear. The old lichen wasn't even on his board anymore - in fact, Ifor couldn't help but break the faintest of smiles at the tosser writhing about in the sand, delirious in the stupor of his withdrawals. Apparently the sudden impact of the...majestic Bull-Eagle, had been more than enough to rattle the unsuspecting vanguard, causing the 'stretcher-bearers' to slip and fumble their wounded passenger into the powdery sands below...

...That reminded him - that landing had sent up a mighty powerful spray into the air; It'd probably be best to shake off the rest of this powder in similar fashion to his sole.

"Thaht's uh big cahtch yuh goh' there, Mhissus - shure youh cuhn handle 'im?", Ifor replied, sending the sugary crystals flying in powerful spasms of his limbs and torso.

It was now and only now that Izzy realized the thrumming and sighing beat of the lux that the lantern cast upon them. The heat she felt in her breath was not the doing of the daemons in her drink, nay and again nay. It was the not unpleasant dreamlike glow of the lantern that had heated her inhales and exhales, sobs and sighs. 'Twas true as true could be; it was not a lantern. Nay, it was a Lantern.

Steely-blue eyes slipped away from the scraggly haired, yet kind-hearted woman in front of her, and, suddenly the concerns of mortals slipped away as well. Into the unattainable hue of the Lantern's light she now gazed. And slowly, like petals of the readied flower after the rains, this next Ephiphany was about to blossom. Something about a Lantern and its fire. Nay, not just fire, but Flam--

The crash of the basket to the ground and the yank of her arm brought her away from her Epiphany... was that what it was or was it but mere drunken stupor playing yet again with her thoughts and emotions...?

She would never know the truth for the concerns of mortals were now the pressing matter at hand; a missing child always made it that way, it did.

When things settled down and the goat-handling urchin was located, Izzy found she had learned three new things: One, the urchin boy was named Sunny and the angellic North was its mum. Two, these things, these Hollows were the monstrosities she fathomed them to be; the town was on high alert. And Three--

The shorter guard bumped into her with intent and importance. Only one blue and yellow clad guard-type stood before her, the one that stared eye-to-eye with the tall drunken redhead had gone upstairs. The shorter guard demanded to know the whereabouts of these 'Hollows.' Steely-blue eyes stared her over with a languid up and down appraisal. Pupils dilated as a sudden glint shone in those red-rimmed eyes. The shorter guard... oh but what meat she had on her; so full figured, sooooo biteable and sooooo cute.

A slow coy wink captured the gaze of the shorter one. A flash of hot white from between pink lips, a tip of a phantom tricorn hat, a motion so slick and complete. The shorter guard suddenly at first felt Izzy's pale and slender hand at the small of her back, and then like the setting sun, the hand lowered and was cupping at the top of her buttocks as the redhead laughed softly in her ear, after a momentary pause, the hand slipped across to the generous hip, then slid up her side till dangerously close to her breast, and as the people marched and engines growled, the shorter guard found one of her own hands being held out firmly yet expertly posed. The ensuing kiss upon her hand was rather gentle and feather soft.

"Enchanted... ahoy miss, I am the one they call Izzy the... I am Ms. Izzy, the lost at sea. But in this place I am found with you. How funny be the Lady of Whims, no?" the hand she slowly and gently lowered, but not without first nibbling a fingertip and then biting softly at her own lower lip. "Of course I will come with you... and come quickly will this lass, if you'd so have me as such... and only if it pleases you..."

Ahem.

And Three...? She wanted that Lantern for her own.

But first thing was first.

"Now that you are done flirting with Ms. Izzy, let it be known that this 'Hollow' turned up where we washed ashore; beyond the rocky mushroom field thataway, and upon yonder sandy shore. But a single one 'twas all, aye.

"Oh and angellic Ms. North? Shan't you accompany us?"

The woman at the tower (stout and strong, with a whip of black hair tied tightly behind her head, and eyes a piercing blue) appraised Izzy with a cool, interested gaze -- as if she could peer through the washed-ashore traveler and see something very curious. She accepted these advances confidently, even as if they were expected.

North, upon Izzy's question, startled with a quiet yelp and fidgeted with her blouse; she'd been very busy trying to appear as if she hadn't noticed the intimate exchange.

"O-oh! Ha, ha! No ... no no!" North laughed, showing her palms with a hunch of her shoulders. "I'm very prone to motion sickness and those scythes quite frankly scare the shit out of me ... ahem." She pressed a fist to her mouth and took a second to compose herself. "I must go ensure my son is all right. Go! Save your friends."

"Right. Let's get moving." The uniformed woman grabbed Izzy's arm in a firm grip and ushered her quickly into the tower and up the spiraling staircase; the stone walls were illuminated dimly by little glass flasks filled with a gelatinous, blue-glowing liquid.

"Izzy the Lost at Sea," the woman said, and her voice echoed up the staircase. Above them were shouts and whirring engines. "That's a tragic title you've got. You may call me Gale of the Storm. You're not from Pyre or Echo, are you? No -- if you'd ever seen a Hollow before, you'd know there's never only one."

They emerged into the blue light of the landing above, where women in close-fitting leather uniforms rushed and shouted sharp clear words. Spears and halberds, crossbows and strange guns with red-violet glowing components were tossed between them and strapped to their backs. With gloves, helmets and goggles each lighted upon their own shining, whirring machine: each was like a metallic scythe, as wide as the height of three men, that shone a deep and threatening crimson-violet underneath as the machine rose into the air.

While a few scythes and their nimble riders sliced quickly down over the town and toward the water's edge, Gale shoved a helmet into Izzy's chest. There was a bright blue light -- more glass filled with a luminescent gelatin -- embedded in the helmet's forehead like a miner's torch. It was the only light they would have to see by.

"Keep your feet at shoulder-width," she instructed as she led the way to an empty scythe, strapping on her own helmet and goggles, "hook your arms around my waist, and lean when I do." She planted her feet on the scythe and took its reins into her gloved hands. "You know, we're recruiting new Windriders. But let's see if you don't throw up first."

The scythe lifted weightlessly off the platform, then plummeted headfirst, the wind rushing around them, before they leveled out and shot like a bullet over the candles and campfires of the town, tilting and weaving expertly in the spaces between the dark spires and towers. Ahead, the other Windriders' violet engines and blue headlights flashed in the night, scattered but all heading toward the darkening ocean.

Behind them, the moon was getting low in the sky, half-hidden by the mountain in the distance.


"Friends?" the boy's head raised at that, and he seemed not to hear much else of what Elliot had to say before he was leaping across the rocks to get a better view of the two dark figures on the shore, who appeared to be staring down his griffin. He stood with his shoulders back and a foot up on a higher rock, almost imitating the eagle image of his feathered hood. He took in a deep breath, but paused instead to watch more closely.

It wasn't every day that the griffin met a stranger without ripping their heads off.

The girl, meanwhile, tilted back her fox hood and stared at Elliot with unblinking eyes. Her hair was a ratty blond, and her pale face had no recognizable expression. For a moment she only stared up at Elliot, both of them illuminated by the glow of the Obelisk of the God of the Wind.

Finally she took a small step forward, into churning ankle-deep water, but her eyes never wavered.

"You're from very far away, aren't you?" she asked in a breathy voice, somewhere between astonished and very confused. Her eyes widened even further. "You've seen the sun, haven't you?"

The griffin nuzzled its beak into Golde's palms, relaxed as if she had cast a spell with only her trust and her gentle words. She would find that the beak was scarred, the feathers rough and broken and grayed with age.

It opened an eye when Ifor spoke.

The beast stared at him, studying him with an unsettling intelligence -- as if Ifor possessed some agency or knowledge that was gravely important. It turned its beak toward Ifor and made an urgent, warbling noise in its throat.

"Lightborn," the girl whispered in awe.

The boy -- confused and distracted by the spectacle on the shore -- looked back over his shoulder. "Hah?"

The girl had begun to breathe quickly in excitement, and she finally broke her gaze to grin up at the boy. "Lightborn! Fang, they're Lightborn! They're here!"

The boy paused a moment, tilting his head and squinting. He wasn't sure he'd heard her. "What?"

But the girl had already grabbed Elliot's wrist tightly in her fingers, her eyes pleading. "You have to help us, everything is wrong, the light is in pieces and the Dragon is stirring, and the Gods have locked themselves up, we're at the mercy of the Dark --"

The griffin took a step toward Ifor, and had just begun to lower its head when it panicked suddenly, thrashing and screeching, tangled beneath something webbed and dark that had dropped out of the sky.

SKKRRREEEEEE

While the griffin struggled beneath the heavy woven net, the roar of engines accompanied blue and red-violet lights overhead; the scythes of the Windriders darted through the night air, descending upon the obelisk.

The second griffin flung into the air, just in time to avoid being trapped by another web -- and with a deft tilt of its wings and a midair somersault, the griffin sunk its claws into one of the metallic scythes and flung the machine's rider violently into the sea. Two more scythes gave chase through the air, but the griffin was too quick for their guns and spears.

"Looks like your friends've been captured by Kith," Gale informed Izzy as they approached the scene: the floating yellow obelisk, the aerial battle between a griffin and two Windriders, Elliot and two fur-wearing children on the water-sprayed rocks. She leveled a spear at the boy, while the children both confidently yanked their hoods over their faces -- the hollowed heads of a dead fox and an eagle, demonic in the cast shadows of the obelisk's light. "We'll rescue them -- and then we'll clear the beach."

She was referring, of course, to the small army of Hollows that crept nimbly along the sand, from the direction of the place where their first encounter had escaped.

Nothing to worry about.

Elliot's heart pounded in his chest as he heard the boy respond to him with a question. A one word question. "Friends?" Typically that was not a good sign from anyone. The last time someone responded with a single word the conversation devolved into a brawl. Of course that was in a tavern between a pair of drunks, however he had seen similar reactions to varying degrees for exactly the same reason.

"You're from very far away, aren't you?" she asked in a breathy voice, somewhere between astonished and very confused. Her eyes widened even further. "You've seen the sun, haven't you?"

Elliot blinked and stared at the girl with blank confusion. Why was the sun important? He wracked his brain as the pair spoke back and forth. The energy shifted quickly from tense to excitement, and the fear Elliot felt slowly faded as he relaxed. Confusion quickly settled back in as she started excitedly calling him a Lightborn.

He was about to ask for clarification when she grabbed his wrist.

"You have to help us, everything is wrong, the light is in pieces and the Dragon is stirring, and the Gods have locked themselves up, we're at the mercy of the Dark --"

They were interrupted by a sudden attack from above in the form of a net. A fearsome metal machine and griffin entered combat in which the griffin was clearly far more agile. The metal of the machine proved to be a poor defense against the beast’s fierce claws as well as they dug into one of the scythes and dismounted its rider viciously. Elliot reluctantly braced himself for combat. The loud machines drowned out almost everything around them.

He then looked hard at the obelisk. What better way to protect his fellow castaways than to literally blow away all the threats. Then they could run back to the beach. He then glanced toward the beach and promptly his heart sunk. A swarm of the fiends had risen, and he could only imagine what they might be capable of doing. One bite was likely no problem at all, but dozens would be lethal.

The next concern that came to his mind in regards to the obelisk was if he could even direct the wind at all. The fact that he was even considering attempting this caused him to question his sanity. Ultimately, there would be only one way to tell, and he had no time to wait.

Elliot mouthed to Golde and Ifor. "Brace yourselves." Then he dashed for the obelisk and pounced on it. As soon as he made contact and the wind picked up he tried to focus it so that all threats would be blown away. He prayed to the fates that would be enough.

All the fantasies, myths, and legends of old were coming to life right in front of him. Would this revelation unravel Elliot’s mind or open it to new possibilities? He worried about the consequences of both.

Foul death coveted the night sky - glimmering silhouettes roared demonically, and blitzed over its many ethereal wonders with unnerving speed; and out of nowhere a heavy net launched itself upon its prey, catching the mythic beast beneath by total surprise - though it would be swiftly avenged by the devastating prowess of an airborne kin. The misshapen corpse fell haplessly through the air, landing in a crumpled heap upon the glittering beach...yet its still drop echoed not only the dangers from above, but from beyond as well. Slate and hollow-faced as the first, a sudden group of lean hunters emerged from under the flaxen influence of the beacon's light, no doubt attracted to the scene by the smells and sounds of anguish.

The sky tore itself apart in a frenzy of scattered sprays and wispy trails of light, the shifting sands swallowed and regurgitated a hail of mechanical debris and fire from whatever the dead silhouette had rode atop, and the seas continued to beat mercilessly upon the rocks just shy of him. Ifor took all of this in with a solemn gaze, then upon instinct, clasped the gold-haired woman in front of him and t u g g e d. A shrill shriek decimated his ears and her squirming mass erupted in a fury of scrambling shoes and flailing joints. He could feel her jolt desperately back in the direction of her newly bound acquaintance, but slung her over his shoulders regardless, turned, and mustered all of the speed his shortened legs could carry him with. Yet just as he barreled off, the winds revived themselves in wild exhilaration once more! The air exploded about them, dashing the frantic pair up against the cliff, and causing Ifor to drop his catch onto the ground with a heavy thud.

Searing pain shot through the escapee's gashed arms, and grits of sand welled tears up in his eye, but he pushed on. The pounding of his heart doubled his efforts as the waking light of the moon herself seemed to revive him; his strength returned greater than before, and he slung the now limp Golde onto his back with renewed vigor. His feet beat madly at the sands, taking them ever-further from the battlefield, far away into the moonlit night. The scintillating seas drowned out the echoes of distant conflict, the frenetic thumping of his heart pounded away within his ears, and the passing winds scratched away at his parched throat...but in it, something struck with Ifor. The feeling of escape, of freedom from the chaotic din and -it seemed- the ground itself surged through his blood; fire coursed through his limbs and heart, but he paid little attention to them. The youthful bliss of speed mesmerized the heaving figure under the moonlit strip, and he pushed further, harder. Sand sprayed out from under his thunderous footsteps, the motion of escape bobbed his curled and grey hair up and down in time with his wispy goatee...and a smile crept up from between his flushed cheeks. The discord long behind them didn't matter now, and the fates of his newly met acquaintances hung far beyond his mortal reach. Let all else be lost, let nothing interfere with the sensation of this searing bliss; Let his energy be an offering for the blessings of the God of Speed.

"...Heheheh."

Izzy wavered a bit as she turned to bid Ms. North a fond farewell, "To your child then angellic Ms. North. Thankee sooooo very much for yer kindness and offers, Ms. Lady. Thanks one thousand fold, aye and again aye."

The tall redhead reached over to grasp the woman's hand, but North shrank away and just waved in return.

"Fare'ee well and save them I will...! Y'knows--"

Izzy arm was pulled as she was ushered elsewhere. The short guard had quite the powerful grip. And 'ushering' along was too kind a word. 'Dragging along' was more accurate. But the rough stuff Izzy did not mind, for this guard seemed interested in getting to know Izzy more. "Aye, me name 'tis tragic, but 'tis true. But as I said before, love, Izzy the lost at sea is now found here with yo-- Wait. Your name be 'Gale.' O' the 'Storm.' Why, what a name! Parents both betrothed you such a moniker then, aye? Well, woud'ja just blow some thunder my way then--

_{why hulllllloooooo there..."}

Her jaw held open but no more words escaped her as steely-blue eyes slowly swept around the blue-lit platform. There were so many women here. And all of them in tight, form fitting leather. Sooooo many of them. Moving about. Legs running. Bosoms bouncing. Hips swaying. And all in leather.

"Nay, love.. I... I-I be from not Biter nor Toucho-- UH! Pyre nor Echo. Born upon the rollicking sea was this lass. But if I must say a town, then I be from Mo'tawabni and if I must-- Alright. Why then... Why so many women here...?! And why so tight is the leather?! Make me just wanna' reach out n'-- OOOFF...!"

Izzy found herself with helmet and in one of these... skiffs? She absent-mindedly put the helmet upon her head as she listened to Gale and got into position. "Soooooo... let me get this straight... you want Ms. Izzy to: spread her legs, wrap her arms round your waist, and move me hips in rhythm with yours...? Uh-huh."

The drunken redhead fanned herself with one hand, "So. This be me WindRider training? Sold. I will take up yer offer and train like this as much as ya wants, aye. And if we have to have extra-curricular private lessons with less leather and more leaning then-- wahhhhhhhhooooooooooOOOOOOO!!!"

The shock of the dead drop turned into elation as they rocketed onward towards the shore. The thrum of the engines was new to Izzy and thusly, rather unsettling to her, but the exhilaration of flight soon conquered her unease. It truly was just Izzy playing fool with her flirting, but the moment changed when she saw the figures illumated in the distance. There was a true urgency now. Izzy felt the fire rekindled from within. The voices of Doubt and Despair seemed like such an eternity away now.

She felt alive. She felt sexy. She felt passion.

She felt 'found.'



"Aye. See them, do I, Ms. Gale." in any other circumstance, Izzy would be jumping up and down, beside herself in wonder at the sight of the griffin. But she was not merely Izzy right now. Nay and again nay, for she was something more. Much, much more. "But those are not the Hollows. I do not know those children, but there seems to be many of the shipwrecked missing. But there! That's--"

A long pale finger pointed at those upon the shore and she faltered. Isabellia realized that she did not know any of their names. A head shake she gave and continued on anyways, "The be-spectacled one be 'Bruiser'; a fighter he must be to get such marks upon his face yet a poet he be with pen n' journal no less. The long-armed, short-legger be 'Mumbles' n' he be quite a ferocious brute, but with few words. The womanly one be 'Miss Pretty Bits' and she... well, now then, not t'make ye jelly in the belly, love, but she be me ex-girlfriend and oooooohhhhh... but crazy jealous does not even half descibe how she reacts to mine own tidings--"

Isabellia shut her mouth and reacted, lightning quick, hooking Gale's arm, preventing the woman from launching her spear. Little did she realize that the Kith were the children; she actually thought that 'Kith' was their word for 'Griffin.'

"OI!!! MS. GALE!! Kill the Kith then, not the babes!! Ya gone barmy, have ya?! Those are but children! Stand down! They be but children, I say!!"

From the corner of her eye, she saw the violet light of the other Scythes light up another portion of the beach. And there she saw them. And not just one.

"Hollows!" still wrestling to disarm Gale, the tall redhead turned her head and yelled at the top of her lungs: "Mates on the shore, 'tis I, Ms. Isabellia!! Away from whence ya came, for more monstrosities arrive! Worry not! We will kill the griffins and rescue ye lot!!"

Golde giggled as her newfound friend squawked and nuzzled her, its combination of soft fur and feathers tickled her. She reached into her bag with one hand to acquire more berries to feed the griffin while the other petted its head. Never in her life will Golde ever dreamed of meeting a mythical creature such as a griffin face to face, much as making it her friend!

"Oh you are very wonderful and majestic indeed! I bet my brother will-", she stopped, her feeling of elation gradually turning into despair. Meeting and befriending the griffin almost replaced the blight of darkness within her. Even if Golde left her family slowly succumbing into madness, the pain and sadness that came with this decision was always in her heart.

The griffin cooed and licked a droplet of tear off of Golde's cheek. She didn't notice she was crying until the griffin did that. She looked at the griffin and almost saw empathy in its eyes, as if it can relate to Golde's pain. Golde sniffled and hugged the griffin as newly formed tears wet the creature's hide while the griffin enveloped its wings around Golde and continued to coo.

"Thaht's uh big cahtch yuh goh' there, Mhissus - shure youh cuhn handle 'im?", Ifor said.

Golde just laughed and released herself from the griffin's embrace to go back rubbing its head while it continued to coo to show its pleasure. "Yes Ifor, I am sure I can handle it. I've handled bigger creatures than this majestic fellow, and they made this griffin look well-mannered!", Golde jokingly replied.

Everything that occurred after that happened in the blink of an eye. A heavy net suddenly dropped from the sky on Golde's griffin friend, trapping it. She yelped in surprise and fell on her bum as she heard the unmistakable sound of plane engines soaring through the night sky. She recovered from the shock and desperately tried to untangle the thrashing griffin from its trap. "Don't worry friend, I won't leave you", she said as she persuaded the griffin to calm down to prevent it from being more entangled with the net. She glanced back at Ifor and Elliot, surprised by the glowing floating obelisk, two children wearing animal hide, and the other griffin. Elliot mouthed both to her and Ifor to get ready as the second griffin flied through the air, evading the falling net, and battled against the other planes. Just then, Ifor scooped up Golde in surprise and ran away, the griffin caught in the net continued to trash and cried.

Golde also trashed and struggled to be free of Ifor's strong arms. "Ifor! What are you doing?! Let me go! We can't just leave them there! Elliot! Elli-", Golde stopped. While she forcibly struggles to be free from Ifor, he accidentally dropped Golde and her head suddenly hit something hard. Her consciousness gradually fades and the last things she saw and heard were the cries of the griffins, one in defiance while one in helplessness, the engines of the planes, a shadowy mass forming and coming from the beach, and Ifor's beefy hands as he lifted her again and ran away.

"What!" Gale barked in surprise, her arm disabled by Izzy's hold. She swung her head back, an expression of rage and alarm on her face. Their scythe whirred and screeched as she flung them around for another turn. "Let go, you idiot!"

Elliot would see the change in his peripheral, haunting in the light of the obelisk: each of the children, in a moment, dissipated into an ethereal, reflective shimmer -- the light passed through them, as if they had never been there. In their place, huge and ghostly figures rapidly took shape.

"Mates on the shore, 'tis I, Ms. Isabellia!! Away from whence ya came, for more monstrosities arrive! Worry not! We will --"

Izzy's proclamation was cut off when the scythe was very suddenly yanked out from under them. She might catch a glimpse of huge blue eyes and translucent, ripping fangs before she was flung off into the open air.

The little girl among the frothy rocks, moments ago, had pulled down her fox-head hood. She had quickly transformed herself into a great and monstrous ghost-fox -- translucent and shimmering in the light -- that towered over Elliot. Though the fox appeared incorporeal, its jaws proved quite the opposite when it leaped into the air and sank its teeth into Gale's scythe. With a great fling of its head it tossed the scythe and its two riders like ragdolls into the deep of the cold sea.

Izzy hit the water with a painful crash. Cold water enveloped her, fizzing with the impact, and for a few moments it was unclear which way was up. Water filled her mouth, her nostrils, her lungs --

-- and yet, she could breathe.

The boy, meanwhile, had become a ghostly, enormous eagle. With a gleaming wingspan the eagle rushed to the griffin's rescue; it caught the second scythe from behind and, with a mighty aerial maneuver, flung it away from the shore.

Meanwhile, the longer Elliot pressed his hands to the obelisk, the brighter it became -- until the light forced him to close his eyes.

The fox and the eagle both landed neatly on the rocks; they were children again, shielding their pale faces from the light.

The light was suddenly gone -- but the expected gust never came.

When Elliot next opened his eyes, he would find his hands were pressed against the armored chest of a man, who stood just at Elliot's height -- if not slightly shorter. His muscled arms were folded stiffly, his yellow hair was spiked and shimmering, and he glared at Elliot with such a scowl of hatred that Elliot might be sure he was about to die for his assumptions.

The obelisk was gone.

The little Kith girl gave a shriek of alarm, and with a few leaps the ghostly fox returned and raced across the stones toward the shore -- where the Hollows swarmed hungrily around the trapped griffin.


As Ifor ran along the sand under the starlit sky, the shouts and shrieks and howls faded behind them. Soon enough, there was nothing to be heard but the calming rush of the breaking waves, the hiss of the foam on the beach. The ambling Hollows seemed to have stopped their chase -- they had been distracted by easier prey.

The narrow strip of beach seemed to stretch ahead for miles. Far in the distance, a bright green light shone like a beacon.

To the left were dunes and a rocky wall slick with moonlit algae. At places, the wall seemed to be lower or gentler in its slope, allowing a glimpse of the flat field of mushrooms above.

All was quiet and dark.

Should Ifor and Golde decide to continue forward for a few hours, the rock wall would become higher and more formidable. Eventually they might spot something in the water ahead: a low pile of boulders that extended out into the ocean. The waves were forced to break against the stones, so the water nearest to the beach remained calm and still. Gulls squawked overhead, floated on the water, pecked at the shells on the beach.

A long wooden dock extended into the still water, protected by the rocks. Tethered to the dock were a few modest fishing boats, some filled with tackle and rods, and a couple sailing boats with furled sails. At the very end of the dock, the figure of a man sat hunched with a fishing rod.

From the beach, opposite the nearest end of the dock, a wide cavern entrance had been carved neatly into the cliff face. Inside, more boats were stored on racks, illuminated dimly by glass bottles filled with a blue gelatinous liquid much like the jellyfish residue that had got on Ifor's boot. The cavern extended deep into a tunnel within the rock.

As the pendulum oscillates to maintain balance, and every effect must reciprocate a cause, so was the exhausted hunchback forced to capitulate to the cries of nature - of the aching creaks of his joints and searing pulse of his heart, the tumultuous throbbing of his skull and the rasping gasps of his breath. His weary pace trickled down from halfhearted jog to brisk walk, then a dreary amble, before entirely dropping the weight of a man and a half onto his knees amidst the spongelike sands. The foam of the tides washed about them under the cobalt haze of the aged night and the whole of his broad figure shivered with spasms of frigid, streaking pain...yet now he sought to drown out the rest - to rebel against the limitations of the body and carry on, to escape the treacherous callings of sand and sea that beckoned rest despite all the dangers of this foreign land; even a fulldial or so back, an unexpected light had cut across the sky, blinding him, and convincing the wanderer to gain evermore distance from the sight of that awful din...

"Fhurth'r...jhust...fhurt'er..."

Closing his eyes only accentuated it - the feeling of his chest caving in on itself with every breath...the needling anguish of his contracted hands and the locked state of his elbows. In this darkness he was alone, cloaked in torment, basked in agony - acutely aware of every horrible sensation as they ran wild with frenzy up and down his limbs, his torso, his head; cartwheeling around inside his throat, playing the drums across his crown - a merry little band of feral torturers seen fit to party well into the night's end. They swirled and writhed about inside him, morphing and melding into a galling maelstrom of fiendish purpose, coagulating their disseperate masses into a ghoulish design of singular, unadultered P A I N.

...

...And then with sudden dissipation, he opened his eyes, and was alone no longer.

The night had grown still - silent as the pits he'd dug for so long in his youth, and an enigmatic chill lingered on the deafened air. The lapping sensation of the waves sent shivers up his spine, causing him to glance downward...and there, he saw it...but what *Was* it? The being was faceless, gaunt and emasculated, stretched like hide upon the moonlit strip and set to dry amidst the rolling tides; everywhere the moon struck, it fled, but with an endless hunger it sought to covet all else devoid of the Lady's protection. The shape of a man, imitating a sense of life in mocking mimicry - if it were to be questioned on its identity, what would it describe itself as? A mirror without face, a Master of all yet servant to "else" - a character without character in the presence of its own? It moved as Ifor moved, felt as he felt, mouthed in unintelligable silence as he mimed his idle thoughts aloud.

...A paradigm lacking its moral?

Startlingly, it shot out across the sugary dunes - tearing outwards but then suddenly bouncing back, like a beast fettered by the rope! The world tilted askew, and as he desperately tried to maintain his balance astride this unannounced quake, Ifor shot his gaze back up toward that distant guardian of the night; her ethereal face, though low only seconds before, now launched itself across the sky - hurtling in mad desperation towards the stars! Yet...yet the seas remained constant - and in the middle of a seeming cataclysm, the drifter quite apparently understood the gravity of the scenario unfolding about him: ...The world was stable...*He* was falling. Reality slipped into still darkness, and in those final moments Ifor oddly found himself mutter a sole thought:

"...Ouw..."

...

"...GNYAHG, OUW! Whatch werr'yr bhumblin' a'bout, youh bhear you!" she growled, gingerly rubbing the bruise on her cheek. The harvesthand beside her quickly dropped his scythe and shortly followed suit onto his knees; yet the helping hand outstreched was just as swiftly rebuked, and with a growl the muscular little woman shook the lanky buffoon around by his ear, barking "Whhat part o'thaht did yhou missheere?! Pick up iht uhp 'an pahck it up, Scrounger!" Shoving him aside, the vixen shot a sharp glance over her shoulder and added: "IFHOOR, HEEHRTO! COHM SHOWH THIS DOLT 'OHW TO CAAHREE 'IHS TOOLS 'ROUND..."

As per his instructions, up hobbled the hunchback, his face sweaty and young, lacking the wrinkles of age though as always possessing his patented "Couldn't Care Less" visage. With a grunt, he quickly heaved the tall reaper up onto his shoulder, then, tilted it askew so that it's head faced the ground and its butt the sky. Having demonstrated this ludicrously simple concept, he then returned the tool to the dirt, nodding at Scrounger before pointing back towards the it; however, as soon as the gaunt young man had reached over to retrieve it, quite unexpectedly from above came the wrathful hand of, it seemed, the Old Lord himself...what with the size of that mitt, anyway.

"OUHW - WHAT WHAS THA'FOR?!?"

Ifor shrugged, nodding back over at the temptestuous woman sitting adjacent within the flax as he turned to make his exit: "...Dhon't go hittin' on muh mhom."

"Eyey there, wher're youh off to soh qhwick? Cohm cohm an' lay awhile - you wohrk tooh 'ard lad...it's noh'guhd tah' work so 'ard." mother insisted, patting the dirt beside her with a calm hand.

...

"...Oih thought yhou said'dcha wahnted mhe tah'go?!"

"LAY OFF, SMARTARSE!!!"

...The night laid still, save for the rustling of the seas - two corpses adrift under darkness did ease; stranded strangers entwined in fates unknown...but to what end, who could ever know? Bad enough was it that neither seemed to move, even though the tides lapped aimlessly at their clothes...

As the sounds of combat clattered around him, Elliot laid his hands upon the obelisk. Heart pounding, he prayed that he could replicate the storm he brought up before. As the children fought with their griffins against the machines he began to realize both sides were only focused on each other. They had such a focus that it was almost as if he was not a factor, simply a bystander to this battle. He realized too late he had acted against his own better judgement.

The last time he acted under fearsome circumstances such as this someone died, and he regretted it ever since. Would he regret this? It was clear they were at war by how fiercely they fought each other. He had no information. No context as to why they were fighting. The children did not seem to be bad people, however the riders of the machines likely were decent people as well. Who was he, an outsider, to interfere in a war he knew nothing about?

And yet here he was...

Elliot realized there was no wind although the light grew brighter and brighter. Soon it embraced all around it. Even with his eyes closed he thought he may go blind. Eventually the light dimmed and Elliot reopened his eyes. He blinked a few times as he noticed his hands rested on the breastplate of a scowling man. Confusion came first as Elliot pulled away. What had just happened? Who was this? Why was he there?

Was he the god that the girl had mentioned?

Then Elliot heard a shriek and glanced around to figure out what had happened. The machines had been dealt with by the children's powers. Whatever transformation they had undergone could only be described as incredible. However he quickly noticed the fiends had come out en-mass and were now swarming a trapped griffin. The girl raced desperately to rescue it. Even with her transformation, Elliot had a hard time believing she could succeed.

What could he do?

His experience and success fighting was more luck driven than skill. Even if he had been talented charging into a mass of fiends like that could only be considered suicide even with blood that can harm those creatures. What malice could create such fiends anyways? He then looked back upon the man before him. His one good option.

"Sir," Elliot's words felt heavy. Important. He knew the next words he said would change his life forever. "Forgive me for disturbing you. If you are who I understand you to be, then your worshiper has grave need of your assistance." He pointed in the direction of the girl and griffin. "I, Elliot Allard the Last, will accept whatever punishment you have in mind for me for disturbing you. Please aid the young miss. That is all I ask."

He could not imagine a better way to approach this. If this were in fact the Wind God the girl mentioned then what could he do to avoid retribution? Elliot was just a mortal. The Fates would decide now how this turned out. The least he could do was to accept responsibility for his error and correct it with a call for assistance. He could only pray the Fates would be kind to him.

Golde woke up from the splash of seawater on her face, coughing and spitting out the water from her mouth. She felt extremely cold and she realized Ifor took them both to another beach. She saw him beside her, being splashed on by the back and forth of the waves of the sea. Golde tried to rub off the wet sand from her skin and clothes but to no avail; instead, she heaved, dragged, pushed, and rolled Ifor towards the drier area of the beach where the waves won't reach them.

After what seemed like millennia, Golde sat down on the sand as she rested her back against Ifor and gasped for breath. She took a look around her and realized she doesn't know where they actually are with the only noticeable landmark near them was this very big and weird-looking tree that made no sense to her.

But then again, none of them all are sure either.

Golde hoped to see the very bright light that came from the obelisk or just even the sound of the airplanes used to attack them yet she couldn't see nor hear both them. She thought of the others they left, especially Elliot who was touching the obelisk, the peculiar children they saw, and the griffins.

Oh, the griffins!

Even when she's dizzy, Golde forced herself to stand up. She couldn't bear the thought of her poor, newfound friend being torn to shreds by the mass of walking nightmares that came from the beach from where they were.

She thought quickly. How can she find them if she doesn't know where they are?

A high place, Golde thought as she began to look around once more and began to approach the tree. I need to find a high pla-

Golde abruptly stopped thinking as she didn't notice it a while ago. The very big and weird-looking thing she thought was a tree was actually an old and creepy looking windmill. Golde began to nervously sweat despite being cold from being wet.

She glanced at Ifor who's still deep asleep, perhaps too tired from all the running and carrying he did. She also didn't notice it before, but just a few walks away was her medical bag. She ran to retrieve it and went back to Ifor to heal his new wounds on his arms. After that, she put her hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry for what I did earlier, big guy", she said to him while he's unconscious. "I know you did that out of the kindness of your heart and I greatly appreciate that. I just got to find out where we and the rest are so we can join together again. I won't be long, I promise". Golde kissed Ifor's forehead, then she stood up and approached the creepy windmill.

---

@Virgil

---

---

Like a fierce agitator the Eye glared, basking the fulvous fields beneath in an incinerating gaze - rendering them limp, distorted and hot to the touch. Once they had stood mighty, tall and golden - traits long since tainted by the corruption of time and distress; now, having been brought to the lowest strands of their pride, with heartless strokes they collapsed unfettered from the seats of their glory, scattered like swaths of ashes across the dirt as their mutilators cut and advanced...cut, and advanced.

...

"...Iht ain't rhite!", the young man so unattractively addressed as "Scrounger" barked, lifting the blade once more before letting the weight guide it through the stalks in a tempestuous swipe. He stopped, glowering over the flaxen field, rubbing his face in irritation at the sweat stinging his eyes, stomping the ground rather childishly in a mock display of authority - seemingly trying to say: "N O T I C E M E!"

As if granted by the Baron himself, the lanky lad's prayer was answered: "...OUW!"

"Kutt th'e blaath'ring, yha spoilt lit'l calf..." Mother groaned, retracting her hand from up the smarter side of Scrounger's head. "...Fhere ah beggar's sohn youh ought te' beh thankful fhor aal the worhk yah ken geht."

"--But not in SUHMMER!" The company whinger replied, barely ducking a followup shot by Ifor's own mitt; "Summer's fohr LAZIN', noht GRAZIN'! Leave tha' muck'in'bout teh the lhikes ohf thuh ahnts, the 'hoppers - Old Badger's do--GOHW!" Having found success, Ifor's hand returned to the task ahead, its host grumbling away to the chorus of the scythe: "Youh tahlk lhike the Bharon's brat works, Scrouhnger...youh worhk like 'eh worhks, too; Outtah keep ah look'ouht fhor a nhew roll-mhodol..."

"...Youh know, ifhor ah klowhn yoor' noht very fhunny..."

"..."

...

"...Ouw...OUWH-OUWH-OUWWWWHH--"

"--Q U O I U U H H H H H H H H T ! ! ! !" The elderly man's voice rang deep and low to deafening effect, and even Ifor found himself oddly compliant with the command. He glanced up from his momentary workout towards the source of that auditory explosion, and upon recognizing its host, a faint smile flickered by underneath his heavy brow. The hunchback left the battered carcass beneath as he rose to his feet, and just over his shoulder he could hear the approving tone of Mother's greeting:

"Sehdric - plheasunt surprhize seein' youh bahk soh eharly!"

The sound of the ocean rushed and breathed behind her as Golde made her way up the rocky slope, toward the outline of tattered wind-sails turning gently in the salty breeze. Stones shimmered wet under her hands and feet as she grasped them and clambered higher -- until she stood upon a plateau overlooking the beach and Ifor sprawled peacefully below.

Across the flat landscape she could see a twinkle of lights in the darkness -- but since the moon had vanished behind the mountain, there was little light to make out more than that. One light was brighter than the others; almost sunlight, that beat a heartlike pulse as she watched it.

The windmill was aged and disused, but made of strong stone. Inside, the floor was overgrown with blue-glowing mushrooms that cast a cool illumination on the walls. The stairs wound up, slashed by dim starlight through the cracks in the stone, around the wooden machine that used to use the wind to ground grain, now gray in disrepair.

At the top of the stairs was a small room open to the stars -- the roof had rotted away long ago. This room was ... clean. The floorboards had been scrubbed, and the walls left intact gleamed like new. There was no debris, not even a leaf out of place. Against the far wall was a single wooden chest, and inside it neat stacks of identical, pristine books. Each of them was filled with the same precise handwriting, meticulous diagrams of plants, animals and imagined machines, and mechanical drawings of the view of Woondaly from the broken window.

From here, the glinting spires of the town were clear. Like something magical out of a fairy tale, the silhouetted skyline of roofs and domes was forested by precarious towers, glittered with tiny blue lights, illuminated softly by the pulse of the brighter point of sunlight.

Also in the chest, tucked into a corner, was a stoppered glass jar filled with thin shoots of a strange, winding plant that gleamed in the faintest light, like rippling rainbows on slick oil.

She would not be able to see the lone scythe that moved quietly along the beach, below the rocky cliff, toward Ifor.

The scythe, like those that had attacked the site of the obelisk, glowed a gentle violet underneath; its rider rode very close to the sand, keeping in the shadow of the rocks so not to be spotted from above. The rider snaked along the shoreline carefully -- but slowed and stopped as soon as Ifor's form was spotted on the sand. The rider hovered for a moment, uncertain, before carefully stepping down into the foam-washed sand. The scythe was quickly compacted into something that could be strapped to the rider's back ... but this was only to stall for time while he decided what to do with this new development.

He was a slight man, with an almost boyish look about his adult features, dressed in modest but very clean clothes that were nothing like the form-fitting uniforms of the Riders. He approached Ifor calmly, eyes steady on the hunchback's silhouette on the sand.

When it was apparent that there was no immediate danger, the rider lowered himself to one knee, curious, and carefully studied Ifor's unusual appearance: the strange shape of the skull, the curve of the spine, the size and coarseness of the hands. Ifor's eyes were moving behind closed eyelids ... dreaming.

With an unhurried decision, the rider reached into a jacket pocket, uncapped a small vial, and wafted some sharp-smelling salts under Ifor's nose to wake him.

"You will be drowned by the tide," he informed Ifor factually, "if you stay here much longer."


The Hollows clamored and scratched and bit and moaned, climbing over one another to reach for the struggling griffin.

The huge, ghostly fox crashed into them, flung them aside in a frenzy of ripping teeth.

The boy, his eagle-mask pushed back, stared in dumb shock at the man who had appeared in the obelisk's place.

The yellow-haired man's eyes flashed with venom at Elliot's plea ... and then a slow, sadistic smile spread upon his face.

"Please aid her, you say?" he mocked, before he cackled a cruel laugh. His smile quickly turned hateful, and suddenly his fist was curled in Elliot's shirt.

Immediately Elliot would understand that this was going to hurt.

In a fierce, powerful motion, the man flung Elliot toward the shore. Elliot sped like a bullet, propelled by the wind, across the rocks and directly into the heart of danger. The fox returned to the form of a shocked little girl, and she scrambled away just before Elliot crashed into the swarm of Hollows with an explosive burst of air.

The Hollows were tossed in all directions, some into the sea, some into the rocks, some scrambling away on the beach.

Elliot would find himself laying comfortably against the soft fur and feathers of the griffin that had broken his trajectory. The griffin was injured, scratched and partially plucked, unable to fly but very much alive.

The man on the rock glared at the sky as if it had done him a personal injustice. He glared at the boy, who startled and stammered but was too star-struck to make out a word. He glared across the water at Elliot, with a deadly promise in his eyes -- and then he disappeared in a strong whirlwind. He had far better things to do.

Elliot gasped for air. The last few moments had completely escaped his memory as the winded young man desperately tried to recover his breath. He remembered being in the forest near a glowing obelisk. He remembered desperately reaching for it in hopes to harness the powers he thought it held just for a short while to remove the attackers in their metal beasts. Suddenly, he found himself laying softly against an injured griffin near the girl.

Why did she have a shocked expression on her face?

He dazedly turned his attention toward the direction his body faced. Who was that angry looking man?

Elliot attempted to stand and found himself on his hands and knees coughing and gasping. All the strength had been taken out of his legs. He glanced back up at the man and they made eye contact. The deadly promise in his eyes caused a level of terror Elliot had no idea existed to rise up in his heart. That was not a man. It was a monster. Something more fearsome than any of the fiends he had witnessed on this island. The monster disappeared in a whirlwind and Elliot relaxed.

Then the memory of what just happened came back to him. The mocking statement. Being thrown at an incomprehensible speed. Knocking away the fiends. If he had landed on anything other than the griffin he imagined the terrifying consequences and shuddered. Finally he took in a deep sweet breath of air.

Adrenaline settled down for the time being and Elliot's entire back rang out in pain. He clenched his teeth and growled in pain. He was not surprised that he blacked out when he was thrown. "That's the 'god' you so worship?" He shot a hurt glare at the girl. "By the Fates I could not imagine a more terrifying experience than that."

He slowly rose to his feet and hobbled back to the pool where the obelisk once was. It took all of his efforts to avoid tearing up from the pain although his face was an unrestrained grimace. He sat down by the water and started to splash his face to cool down. He had to figure out the history of this island and only then could he make a decision on how to act from here on out.

The familiar stranger stood strong before the squabbling trio with an almost regal air, his front slightly masked by the harsh shade of the sun while all around his figure there seemed to shimmer a glowing outline in likeness of the favor of The Eye itself. He was lean yet muscular, with short, black, balding hair covering his crown; His face was rough, showing evidence of a lifetime of harsh circumstances in the twist of his nose and the droop of his lazy left eye - and though now lax in posture, the forearms and hands betrayed a somewhat more martial background. Yet despite the sharp tones of his build and the firm silhouette he cast across the wilted flax, Sedric clearly possessed a more than 'civilized' sense of style about him - and if for nothing else than vanity or the fancy of the nobility, his garments remained well-kept and tidy...flaring ever-so-slightly into the realms of flamboyancy, yet lacking in that crucial appearance of utter, criminal wealth of status, as was befitting of those others born properly of the mercantile or manipulative classes.

"Plheasahnt's nh't eksaktly teh whaarding Ih hehrd yah lohst describe't ahs, Ghabrye...", Sedric snorted, clawing at the sweat irritating his hazel eyes, "...bhu bhesyhd tha' besyhde, whaat's this quarrel ghone off 'bout? These toho bhrrats stihl acktin' their age?" Mother out-scoffed the weary traveler with the ease of a sow well-acclimated to the discordant squeals of her litter, waving a hand over the ragged pair with an offhanded wisdom: "Age? Boys'r 'n ageless loht - one mohmehn they'cud tahlk teh earh off'a philosopher, the verry next they'll beh tossin' uhp dihrt lyhk ah couple o' acrid ol' gohats." She grinned smugly at Sedric, eyeing him up and down; "...Although Ih see suhm of'ya Billies 'ave prog'rest tah walking on tywo lhegs."

Ifor caught the faintest of smiles flickering on by under the reddened man's gaunt cheeks, and though its immediate meaning was lost to him, he couldn't help but notice the slight resemblance of character possessed by the two elders. What two rival constellations did writhe in battle amidst opal skies on the night of these two warriors' births? What strange coin affixed itself between those houses of an ancient and singular, trivial lineage - to repeat the cyclical tradition of enmity that had possessed their families for generations? How much longer would such an ancient ritual carry on when the former house bore stunted offspring and the latter remained single - or was that time yet to come? Would he too eventually be forced to suffer through the incessant nature of some spiritually-molded agitator? "What, isn't't legaal fer ah man tah carry ah grudge?"

"If 'tis, yhour lhisense 'as certanely exphired bye now, Sehdric."

"..."

"..."

"...KHOM'ERE, YOU TROUBLEMAKER YOUH!", cried the hunter to the exasperated shrieks of his quarry, yanking the smaller woman's balance out from underneath her with one fluent motion; Like a ragdoll he hurled her tan frame over his right shoulder, jutting a finger out towards the two youths fixed adjacent beneath the mischievous glow of his mile-wide grin: "Let's cuht this dreahdfall heat with uh fhew drinks, ahye bohys? WHO'S WITH ME!?"

Ifor and Scrounger exchanged glances, then looked back and shrugged; "Youh payin?", Ifor inquired in his usual monotone base, to which Sedric briefly struggled to retrieve a rather fat pouch of coins. The prosperous jingle of its girth set a twinkle in Scrounger's attentive blues, and with hands like a thief he sharply snatched the purse away for his own anxious inspection. "Taste them ihf yah lyhke, Lhiehihn - buht'ashure youh, they're ahl ohf honhest'mhint; straight from the Chief Constable's pocket toh mah own." The lanky lad sifted his fingers through the pouch with dazed disbelief, while from over Sedric rumbled the thunderous portentousness of a tempest about to burst; "Ifor, tell this kraass bhull toh set youhr muhther down, 'fore ah certain sumwonn eahrns ah slight ihmped'mint toh their ghaite..."

"Sedric, ghonna nheed youh tuh puht'er dohwn 'fore Ih ehndupp havin' tah geld yhar liddle-fellas."

"Oh-ho-ho!", the elder man replied, holding the squirming, black-maned woman firmly between the crook of his arm; "Tha' sohnds lyhke ah biht ohf ah challenge toh mee! Oh, but ihf'tis, yu'd buhst hahve sumethin' tuh wayge'r, aye? Wha' shall'ee wayge'r, Gahbrye?"

"...Aih hate youh."

"Heh-Heeh, I knoh - buh'tha' doesn't 'nswer myh question!", Sedric chuckled, his feet beginning to shift anxiously from the weight. She sighed, grumbling: "Aih dunno...Sohmthin' he won'mis, then..."

"LO, WEH HAVE AH VOLUNTEER!"

"Whai', wHA--", was about all she could say before a sudden jolt shifted the vowels inside her mouth into a hoarse gurgle; and just like that, the race was on. Yet, Ifor's feet stood planted, and he suddenly felt...strange...ethereal. He glanced up into the streaming glare of the sun, but was instead met with a harsh and sudden darkness. Reality spun unnervingly about him, and then all at once he felt cold, wet, and more than slightly odorous...and not a pleasant type of smell either. With a jerk, his eyes flicked open to the ravenous dim - and there, just above him, sat..."Him." Nothing else occupied the space around them - the air was quiet, save for the ambient lapping of the waves against the spongy sands.

"...You will be drowned by the tide, if you stay here much longer."

"............

.............

.............Youh'r ahn ahstute 'uhn."

And only when Gale swore at Izzy did the tall redhead know the error of her ways. Griffins were still griffins in this world and Kith were actually children. Wellll... murderous, magic-wielding monster children in this world to be certain. Izzy should have let Gale's spear fly home. But: should've, would've, could've. It made no difference; there was no denying fate now. Izzy's error spelled disaster.

The beast shook and swatted the flying scythe like a teper-tantruming toddler would a toy. Oh but those eyes of the beast: such ferocity, such inhumanity, such power. And now more then ever did the former Unequalled Flame of the Daemon Squall Pirates desire to own the Lantern in the centre of the wheat field. But first thing was always first; she needed to survive the crash.

When she hit the water, the white stars exploded in her head and all went black. The last she saw ever again was the nightsky through rippling dark water as she had always seen her own death in her own dreams. That and the sight of both fists held out, middle fingers at full salute to greet Lady Death. Oh, she had seen this moment so many times in dreams since she was little.

And yet again did she forsake the dream and Lady Death's desire. Steely-blue eyes snapped open and she awoke to another dream she had ever since she was yet a frizzy red-headed girl. And like her death scene in dreams, this re-birth scene was as she had seen it. Isabellia was aware of her last moments and she knew she had been given another chance to live, but if only she brought to life another with her.

Such a strange feeling when she screamed out Gale's name from beneath the water. So strange was it to be aware of how she took a 'breath' before and after her scream. But Izzy did not dwell upon the surreality of it all. She saw the shapely shape of Gale and swam with all her might towards the brunette.

Both hands snatched up the WindRider and pulled her up to the surface. And such a strange feeling once she took a breath of open air; strange in that she noted the difference between breath underwater and breathing out of water now. But again Izzy did not dwell upon the surreality of it all. No, instead she clutched Gale in one arm and the wreckage of the Scythe with the other.

Suddenly a massive explosion sounded out from the shore and when all was said and done, Izzy saw the dark masses splash home into the dark water. They were still a fair bit away from them but not as far as Izzy would have liked. She had a good inkling of what had hit the water; the twin glows that would be the dark masses eyes had given them away. Oh, how Izzy loved her fancy new boots… but she would have to abandon them to swim faster than the Hollows should they give chase. That and she would also have to abandon—

“Ms. Gale! Gale O’ Storms!!” she violently shook the Scythe pilot in hopes of rousing her. A single, solid breath Izzy took and then that moment of calm and clarity took over. Then with all her might, and, with both legs kicking, she tossed the stout Gale onto the wreckage. Several presses she gave to the chest of the brunette. Then Izzy's mouth covered Gales and blew a few times trying to seep the water from the other woman's lungs. When she looked up next, the steel of the blue in her eyes ignited. She was no longer merely Izzy now.

“WIND-RIDER!! At arms now, missy!! Lackadaisical git!! Not allowed to die yet! Hear me?! You will do yer damned duty! You will never stray from the fire... AT ARMS!! NOW!!”

"That's the most terrifying thing that's ever happened to you?" The girl darted across the stones after having released the griffin from its restraints; the beast, disheveled and bloody, limped behind her. The girl's hair was afly, her hood shoved down to her shoulders, her bright blue eyes wide and livid as she stared at Elliot. "Is living in sunlight such a comfort, then!"

"He's gone." The boy sat on a rock and shoved back his eagle-hood. "Thanks for awakening the Wind God, but now you've pissed him off! I dunno how or why but ya did!"

"We're all going to die." The girl struck a hand through her hair in horror. "Fang, we have to appease him. What if he favors the Artificers after this?"

"Like hell!" Fang grinned confidently, though he was shaking. "Everyone's going to find out sooner or later, right?"

"Oh, gods..."

"Hey, lightborn! Elliot, right?" Fang gave him a sharp grin. "You're coming with us."

"Why, so he can break something else?!"

"Don't listen to Wisp, she's high-strung."

"I'm not --!!"

"This isn't a request." Fang clambered onto the back of his own griffin and leaned down, offering a hand to Elliot to help him up into the makeshift saddle. "Where else you gonna go this late at night? Back to the Horror nest?" His grin turned dangerous.

Wisp jammed her hood over her head again. "I'm walking." She laid a hand on the injured griffin's beak, and together they turned around and hobbled back to the beach. Wisp's griffin had no chance of being able to fly back -- they would have to risk crossing the mushroom field on foot.

Gale choked on the saltwater in her lungs.

Under Izzy's care she lurched and opened her eyes wide, water spilling from her mouth. She instinctively flung her body to the side -- only to find that she was floating on the wreck of the scythe, which slipped and bobbed under her. Shaking, she clung to the sides and carefully got to her knees with terrible sounds of retching and gagging. The water seethed and roiled around them; Gale squeezed her eyes shut.

For a long moment she didn't speak, too angry to say what she really needed to.

"Are your friends alive?" she asked finally; she let the rush of the waves soothe the blame and rage in her salt-scraped chest.

Finally she looked over at Izzy, and stared at her face with an expression of resignation and defeat. "You really are from another place, aren't you." She slipped into the water, and pushing the ruined scythe as a float she kicked toward shore, assuming Izzy was alongside her. "You could have been killed. I'm sorry for bringing you out here." She glared ahead as her feet found the sand and she waded up onto the shore. "I have a tendency to show off."

She looked out toward the place where the obelisk had been, and her eyes went wide.

After a moment, her jaw slackened.

"... Where is the obelisk? Oh, no ..." Her mouth closed, her jaw clenched. With tears in her eyes she dropped to her knees and dragged her fingers over her scalp, shaking in distress. "This isn't happening..."

The roar of the ocean drowned out her choked breaths.

She pressed her hands into the sand and forced herself to her feet. "It may be fortunate that we were thrown when we were -- we could've been caught in the god's blast." She laid a hand on Izzy's shoulder, mostly to steady herself, but the look in her eyes was fearsome. "Come, we have to warn the city. The Wind God has awakened. I pray for us all."

The sand-rider tilted his head. "Thank you," he said honestly, completely missing Ifor's sarcasm. "But I really must insist: you appear to be unwell. If I had not arrived, you may have been in danger of drowning."

He neatly replaced the bottle in a pocket and got to his feet, while the fans of hissing water lapped at Ifor where he lay. The rider stretched down a hand to help him up. "My name is Oliver. I'm an investigator for the Pyre search-and-rescue division -- and while I did not happen to be on duty when I found you, I'm very glad I did. I use this windmill as a research station." He gestured above them, at the shapes of tattered windmill sails that rose above the rocky slope, silhouetted in the moonless dark. "You may rest and dry yourself there. I have food as well, if you are hungry."

The smile he offered was tight and inexperienced; he waited patiently for Ifor to take his hand.

"That's the most terrifying thing that's ever happened to you?" The girl darted across the stones after having released the griffin from its restraints; the beast, disheveled and bloody, limped behind her. The girl's hair was afly, her hood shoved down to her shoulders, her bright blue eyes wide and livid as she stared at Elliot. "Is living in sunlight such a comfort, then!"

Elliot reflected on her question, and as soon as he thought of the plague that had torn through his homeland his expression darkened. While it had not caused a spike in his adrenaline like this incident the plague certainly was more terrifying than his most recent experience. Even so, having experienced what he just went through it was quite close. If there were worse things as she implied then he truly worried for his well being. He closed his eyes and exhaled heavily. He quietly listened to the pair converse about him and the situation.

He did not blame the girl for feeling the way she did, but he appreciated the level-headed mentality of the boy. He reopened his eyes as soon as Fang called his name. He seemed to have a choice. He could come with Fang, walk with the unhappy Wisp, or he could leave the both of them to go on his own to find the others. He could come up with reasons for each one, although he was not particularly attached to any of them. Everyone he really knew and cared about had died. If he went to find the others all that he would be with were strangers from the old world.

Elliot had not forgotten his journal. He wanted it back, however right now he needed to learn as much as he could about this new land. Clearly being this so-called lightborn meant something significant. He needed to learn about this. He needed to learn about the history of this new land. He would not let himself repeat the same mistake as he did with the obelisk. He felt the god was more an enemy than anything else, and it was his responsibility that he was now free and roaming this land.

He wondered what else the Fates had in store. He decided he would take a neutral stance for now. The error of getting involved broke his historian ways. He took Fang's hand and climbed onto the griffin. "Thank you. I've never flown before, what do I need to do?"

Elliot could not wait to find a safe place to lay down and rest. After everything that just happened he needed some time to recover from his injuries. He also wanted to take the time to ask questions and learn as much as he could. "I would like to know everything you know about 'lightborn' I have never heard about it before."

Reflection preached that smiles shrewd often tentatively break, yet why then would ‘honest’ eyes yet swear by an honest make? By all the stars glittering and strewn wildly in the shattered dim’s wake, if Truth was the issue…would he really be lying here, awake? Ifor rumbled in irritation – at the throbbing cries of his wounds, at his lack of context on this mysterious stretch of rock and grit...and something about the only partially revealed stranger still had his mind at unease. However, the strongest chain was only determined by its weakest link, and a chain of one bruised and weathered link couldn’t carry much favor in the eyes of the Fateful Hags; with a heave and a grunt, Ifor towed himself up onto an equal knee by “Oliver’s” outstretched hand.

The orange rimlight slanted askew across the fresh-faced man’s previously silhouetted visage, and by a passing observation the spark of awareness suddenly jumped to life within the hunchback’s tamed gaze: …Golde.

For a moment he sat in still silence, pondering the relevance of this new information, before lingering over towards his left – towards that wayward beacon of age and security. The outline stood proud despite its decrepit figure, cast as a cutout a midst the backdrop of a horizon inflamed - and though he still lacked a proper foundation of trust within the stranger’s invitation, the hunchback found himself nodding in agreement. The foaming waves gurgled behind them in anticipation.

…But a new question yet languished on the edge of his weary mind:

“…The Dawhn lhies dihhm t’dhay, noh?”

Golde made her way towards the old windmill. She saw blue mushrooms growing inside that provided enough light to illuminate the infrastructure. She admit that this place made her feel really uneasy and uncomfortable, but she was determined to explore it if it meant she can find something in here that can help both her and Ifor. Thinking of him made her hasten her walk, as she herself doesn't know when he's going to wake up. For all she knew, he could already be awake and is currently wondering about her whereabouts.

It's not that she wants to stay away from the big guy, but honestly speaking, she still feels a bit of anger and hopelessness within her. She could only hope for the best regarding Elliot, her newfound friend griffin, along with the children's safety and well-being from the mass of shadows she saw emerging from the beach. She shook her head and slap her cheeks a bit, reminding her she has a job to do and thinking about things is not enough to get them done.

She continued her ascend upwards the creepy windmill until she came across a... wait, why is it clean? It has no roof, which made Golde think of how can someone manage to cover the harsh sunlight and the torrent of rain, yet the room was obviously and very well-kept. She marveled at the night sky covered with hundreds and hundreds of stars. A smile of pure fascination was on her face as she has never seen so many stars nor has she been this near to them.

She moved closer to the side and saw the town she couldn't see clearly before. Even if it was night, Golde still admired the architecture of the houses and buildings like something out of a fairy tale. She can't help but shed a single tear. Golde was sure her little brother would have loved the view. She can see faint blue lights coming from the windows of the houses and another brighter light somewhere far in the distance. She can't make out what it is but she figured she must focus on the now before she can move further forward.

She returned her attention back to the room and surveyed it, trying to find something that can help her. She immediately saw the huge chest in the corner of the room and quickly went to it. Inside, she saw books filled with hand-writings and diagrams of plants, animals, and even machinery. Golde was so happy she let out an excited laugh. She saw how vital these books are for their survival and she was very relieved when she skimmed through them. That, and she's also a huge bookworm who will never be bored of reading books even on repeat.

She doesn't understand most of it, even the complicated diagrams of machinery she thinks are products of the owner's imagination, but she spent enough time in her local library during her childhood to get the important pieces of information out of it. According to the books, the town before her is called Woondaly.

Golde was about to read more when something inside the chest caught her eye. She put the book back inside to retrieve a strange-looking and gleaming jar at the chest's corner. Only upon holding it near her did she realize there was a plant inside it that seems to be the source of its mysterious yet beautiful glow. Feeling very anxious yet curious, Golde held her breath as she opened the jar, anticipating on what's to come.