After leaving the nameless tavern behind, with a heavy sense of dread following close on her heels, Gabriela had spent the better part of a month traveling. She headed north, following the unfamiliar stars that shone brightly during the night, and when the sun shone bright and she was weak, she slept in the dark places she could find. And so, along with her dread, there was a distinct and heavy weight upon her chest -- a sort of longing mixed with anxiety. She wanted to go back. She wanted to return to the only home she had left. The further away she got from Him the greater the distance she put between herself and any hope of returning to that place. But the logical part of her, that very delicate part of her mind that was slowly mending back, knew that there was no home to go back to.

Orisia was gone.

Valucre as well.

The world she knew no longer existed.

Through valleys, and over hills, beyond great expanses of thickly wooded territories -- she moved in search of something she could not yet name. She carried with her a single and precious possession. A tiny grain of white sand from the tropical beaches of Versilla. The small, glass-like jewel of a speck had been found upon one of her eyelashes, a forgotten relic of the kingdom she had nurtured and then destroyed. Gabriela carried it with her as if it were a child, for indeed it was.

And then, at long last, on a tepid night, when the breeze blew the sweet perfume of star jasmine and the faintest hint of orange blossom, Irene Gabriela DuGrace, known as the Black Queen, ventured deep into the heart of a secret grove.

Her mind was heavy with remorse and regret more so than usual. The warmth and the fragrance of the night stirred the deepest and darkest parts of her memories. So the weight of her past actions came down, and hung like a shroud around her, suffocating her with each step she took. And the grove, secluded and untouched -- mostly dead --, seemed like the perfect canvas upon which she could paint her redemption.

From the remnants of a tattered satchel, she produced and cradled the Seed of Orisia -- that tiny grain of sand, all that was left of her true home. And with renewed purpose burning in her summer-set eyes, she entered the grove, though the shadows seemed to whisper and the trees bent away from her. She was not wanted in this place, but she did not care. She would make this her home, or it would become her grave.

It wasn’t hard to select a place, nestled in the moss and soft wet earth, where the grove’s magic pulsed like a massive and ancient heart.

“I will begin anew,” she said to herself, and to fend off the harsh criticism of her logical mind.

This wasn’t right.

She could not bring another country to existence -- she could not be the mother to a new nation.

And yet she did and she would -- for she birthed a new realm in that very moment, a new kingdom that would right the wrongs of her past.

Gabriela knelt on the ground and plunged her hands deep into the soil, marveling for a moment at the warmth and feeling the earth’s pulse beneath her fingertips. With every ounce of power she still possessed, she lovingly planted the Seed of Orisia, a beacon for all of her aspirations of redemption and renewal. And the grove responded to her touch, stirred by the echo of La’Ruta that still resided deep in the bones of the Black Queen.

The air changed, the energy becoming a nearly tangible thing as the dormant trees and other vegetation stirred to life. Lanterns, ethereal and otherworldly, flickered to life, casting a warm, and soft glow upon the newly birthed territory. It cut through the darkness of the night and created a sort of radiance around the edge of the thicket, a thing that fought back the frightful shadows that had once crept without any hindrance.

As the grove blossomed with life, Gabriela knew that her sacrifice was not yet complete. She understood that the revival of Orisia and the creation of the Illuminated Grove required her to give more than her power. For there was no birth without blood and pain -- one could not bring life into the world without being torn apart.

Her child demanded her blood, her essence, and the remnants of her godhood.

It was her only inheritance to give.

With a resolute determination, Gabriela curled her fingers into her palms and tore into the tender flesh with her glass-like fingernails. She felt the bite of it deep into her bones but did not so much as whimper at the pain. Rather, she focused on the sensation and breathed through the agony of her life force flowing into the soil. Like black fire, she felt her vita pour out of her -- leaving her as nothing but scorched remains. Her blood mingled with the earth, her sacrifice breathed life into the very roots buried beneath her, and from there, traveled across a vast network that connected all of the trees within the woodland. Shadows from her blood swirled, blending with the Seed of Orisia, infusing it with the remnants of her divine power.

The heart beneath her hands beat stronger and faster, while her own slowed and ached to carry on.

The process was arduous and draining, consuming her with each passing moment. Gabriela could feel the last vestiges of her strength being siphoned away, but she pressed on, fueled by her desire to rebuild and redeem -- even if she did not live to see it.

When it was all said and done, and the ritual was over, Gabrela could barely keep her golden eyes open or control the sharp tremble in her arms and shoulders. The grove stood vibrant and alive, glowing with a magnificent radiance that was simply uncanny, the legacy of Orisia reborn. The Black Queen's task was complete, her work a testament to her unwavering determination. And she, utterly exhausted, collapsed into a cradle of uprooted tree limbs that sprang forward to catch her.

As she surrendered to the embrace of sleep, her hands blackened with soil, torn flesh, and blood, Gabriela found solace in the knowledge that she had paved the way for a new world, a realm where her regrets could maybe be transformed into hope, and her pain could find purpose. And as the night whispered its lullaby, the rejuvenated grove cradled her, guarding her slumber.

For three days and three nights, Gabriela slept.

It was a profound sleep, devoid of dreams -- and nightmares. She was not haunted by the ghosts of those she had killed, nor was she tormented by the one who owned her soul. There was only the darkness of exhaustion, and the peaceful river of the abyss, which carried her under a star-filled sky. But she could not see these stars, even as they bore their light down and illuminated her passage over the dark waters, she could only sense them against her skin. She was aware of the existence of the world beyond her unconscious prison and mindful of the passage of time that did not stop simply because she was no longer participating in reality.

There was a risk of slipping into torpor.

The exhaustion was so heavy, and at times it felt like the black waters of the abyss would lap over her body and pull her under. She would cease to exist them. She would forget the world, lose all track of it, and sleep until such a time as fate deemed her worthy to be awoken once again.

However, this was not the fate she chose. She did not sacrifice everything only to birth Orisia’s Seed into the world and abandon it. She could not merely plant the seed of paradise and hope that it would survive. No -- this new world needed her. She would nurture it. Gabriela fought against the demons of her debilitating fatigue and managed somehow to crawl back out to the surface.

But a great many things were lost in the trauma of it all…

As the first rays of moonlight broke through the dense canopy, casting a pale, white glow over the mystical forest, a woman slowly stirred beneath the towering trees. From a cradle of roots, shaped to protect her small figure, she slowly moved to sit up. Her eyes fluttered open, revealing a radiant golden gaze that mirrored the hue of the setting sun. And the moment that her eyes opened, a sea of lanterns flickered to life, casting warm firelight all abound.

This was a marvel to her. She lingered, looking up through dark lashes, at the golden show of lights above her head, the warmth of the lanterns reflected in the color of her eyes. And when she could drink no more of the sight, she felt herself take a breath -- a deep and needed breath.

She sat up, and her dark, chocolate-brown hair cascaded down her back and fell in thick sheets all around her. The forest was alive with enchantment, and she did not know whether to be delighted or frightened. The lanterns that floated gracefully from the branches above, illuminated and revealed a path that opened ahead of where she lay. The soft rustling of leaves and the distant calling of a nightingale shifted her focus.

With an elegant grace that she did not realize she possessed, the woman rose to her feet and revealed a figure that epitomized delicate femininity. Her attire, though tattered and worn, clung to her form and accentuated her slight curves. The black tunic she wore was loose but torn in so many places that it barely concealed the pale, moonlight skin of her back, her belly, and her shoulders, and her tight breeches, though soiled with grime and dirt, clung to her hips, her rounded bottom, and shapely thighs, highlighting her lithe physique.

Confusion clouded her mind as she tried to piece together the fragments of her memory.

Who was she?

How had she come to find herself in this strange place?

And the hunger.

What of the hunger?

For there was a hunger within her, an insatiable thirst that gnawed at her very being.

Curiosity mingled with trepidation as she cautiously began to explore her surroundings. Every step she took seemed to be guided by an invisible force, drawing her deeper into the heart of the forest, until eventually, she stood upon the very path that had been lit for her. The lanterns gently swayed in the breeze and cast playful shadows before her -- teasing her to follow.

As she ventured onward, a subtle aroma filled the air -- a scent that set her somewhat numbed senses ablaze suddenly. It was the unmistakable scent of life, of warm, pulsing blood. Her golden eyes widened, reflecting the predatory edge that lay dormant within her. She knew what she craved -- what she needed to survive.

In the distance, a soft whispering sound reached her ears. The calling of a nightingale. Intrigued, she followed the sweet song until she arrived at a tranquil clearing. The lanterns, ever her companions, lit up the opened space amongst the trees. There, amidst the dappled moon and starlight, ran a peaceful stream, its waters shimmering like liquid silver.

Unable to resist, she went to the water's edge and knelt down, peering at her own reflection. She became captivated by the juxtaposition of the captivating beauty she witnessed and the darkness that lurked right behind her own golden eyes. The face staring back at her bore the marks of immortality -- a timeless and ethereal creature that barely concealed an eternal hunger.

With trembling fingertips, which she only now realized were badly injured and painful to utilize, she touched the corners of her mouth. And while she stared at her own reflection, she parted her lips and saw the sharpened canines that sat so neatly along the top row of her teeth. Without consideration, her tongue ran over the surface of one of these sharp incisors until she felt the prickle of pain and saw the stain of black blood dripping down her chin.

And although blood is what she craved, the taste and sight of her own filled her with a familiar dread she could not exactly explain. She cringed and quickly did away with the droplets of vita with the back of her sleeved hand until there was no evidence of the self-inflicted wound. And when it was all said and done, she sat back, her bottom resting on the back of her caves, and her hands dipped at the edge of the cool waters. Her eyes were shifting, examining her surroundings once again.

She had smelled blood but there was no sign of it.

Czeslc

“...Hey.. Hey now…” He stopped any movement forward, instead turning his body and attention back towards her. His voice lightened up at the sight of her and the feelings it provoked within him. He now, with what seemed to be somewhat instinctual, he wanted to back up on the tension and instead reassure her. She seemed younger than him though he was ignorant of the truth. He felt the need to now explain himself.

“Hey I just.. Look. You just can’t be comin’ up on someone like that. Someone like me, ya’ know? I just.. Okay I just can’t handle it.” He admitted to the now seemingly timid and dissociated woman before him.

He noticed her attention focused on the tavern instead of him. He felt the need to check over his shoulder to confirm, but he was confident. There was something going on with her.

She did not seem to want trouble any more than him. She came to him and certainly could have owned him without any struggle. She was willing to leave him instead, for the sake of avoiding confrontation at such an extent? She seemed as though her skeleton had buckled.. as though she had nothing strong enough to stand on.

"Hey." His voice far more stern and direct to get her attention again. "What's... what's going on..."

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With the feeling of awkwardness after this unequal exchange between them, Czelsc could not help but look above to search for Rhae, the small kestrel falcon hunting the skies. His attention was above with his focus on Rhae for just a moment.

Just one moment.

He brought his tired, dark brown eyes back down to view the woman again but instead was only looking at where she had been.

Where she had been…just one moment ago.

His face kept flat as he looked forward. Sure he was shocked, he was surprised. Somehow he even found himself a bit disappointed. Though the years of him showing free emotions faded long ago. His face would stay still as did his body while merely trying to have any guess, any understanding as to what just happened.

Where did she go?

He stood still with his attention straight forward. He had this moment of not knowing exactly what to do. That was not common for him. He brought his hands to his hips, bracing himself some while handling his confusion.

He forced his attention to return above once more in search of Rhae. He finally saw her hovering rather than circling. This was a good sign. This showed she was calmer and must have gotten some insects. That she had finally gotten a proper meal for herself.

He let out a loud whistle to call the bird to return. There had been a significant amount of training between them and it showed. Rhae circled a turn to dive right for Czelsc who held his hand out. With a dive then a swoop, she tossed her wings back for resistance to land on his hand carefully. Her little talons dug into his skin to perch. With his same dirty left hand he reached for another piece of the raw chicken and held it out for her in case she still needed it. Thankfully she was full at last. He tossed the chicken back into a small satchel he kept just for her. Then he brought the small falcon up closer to his face. His brown eyes locked with the dark eyes of the falcon as he stared.

Hunting was over.

It was time to work.

Certainly there was no actual communication going on between the two, but Czelsc took this moment. He wanted all the training to show for this moment. All the time spent together. His look at Rhae seemed to resonate along the lines of; “Don’t let me down, not this time. Or else.” to the small thing who merely looked back at him cluelessly.

He wrapped his hand around the bird again as he had done before. His fingers met around her body at her breast bone.

As he prepared to launch the bird again, the clueless bird, Czelsc recognized that he paused for a moment.

He looked once more to where she had stood not long ago. His face had the same demeanor besides a little more depth to the wrinkles. Signs of concern and of guilt that he could not hide.

His gaze returned to Rhae as he tossed the bird into the air once more. She took off with her wings flapping immediately to gain height. Czelsc waited until she began to stabilize before he let out a loud whistle that pierced differently than the one he used to call her back. The small falcon now seemed to steer sharply after hearing the whistle and began to soar.

She was hunting with him now.

Czelsc picked up his pack from the ground once more then fluidly swung it over his shoulder, then the other. Good to go.

He looked up again and watched Rhae; where she was, where she was facing, where her focus turned. This companionship between human and falcon was one of the oldest in human history. The benefits from this wild partnership were insurmountable.

And these two were about to prove it.

At least Czelsc hoped. He needed to be confident in Rhae. He needed to trust her.

Cutting through the air, Rhae gave out a loud call claiming she had spotted something. Czeslc peered up again as he followed by footstep through the forest which began to hug him tighter and tighter. He heard Rhae call again as he heard another bird call against her. Czelsc’s focus turned ahead with a flinch of his eye, subconsciously, to quickly think and determine what bird he just heard. A nightingale. Beautiful birds.

Silent moments passed as Czelsc continued to look up to try and find Rhae again. The canopy grew thicker as he followed where he thought she went.

Then another call, an echo. He quickly turned over his shoulder to face around to where he heard this new call from Rhae. Czelsc gave out a unique whistle very loudly to respond to her. His direction of travel now turned toward Rhae as he picked up pace. She had narrowed down on something. Then he heard another call of the nightingale. Rhae was telling Czelsc she had found something, or had gotten interested in something. Since she had followed this bird and had not attacked it meant Rhae was trying to relay something to Czelsc. She had not attacked it which they would do even if hungry to store a meal for later.

Czelsc tried to continue his travels through the forest, but where he began and where he was now seemed to be two different worlds. He had gotten so wrapped up in keeping his directions straight with Rhae and so focused on the smaller scale details of this forest that he had not realized how very different this place had seemed when compared to his entrance from the tavern.

He began to look up and around a lot more now. He knew which direction to follow Rhae so he took this opportunity to absorb this area. It was unlike anything he had seen before in all the travels of the world that one human could achieve. How could that be?

There was so much to take in. So much to get lost in. His focus kept upward as he traveled. It was difficult to set aside his bewilderment at what he was now walking through. There were faint lights, new smells so strong, there was something so different that he could not begin to fully understand yet. If he would ever be able to as a human.

Then he was finally through the thick. Through into some incredible open clearing, covered by the forest which could have felt like armor protecting the spot. It was a secret. It felt like one at least. A hidden gem that only the deserving could ever view. He did not feel like one of them.

As he was absorbing these new surroundings, these mystical feelings, he did all he could to maintain his focus. Czelsc viewed the tree line surrounding the area of which he had just emerged from. He followed the natural barriers to the shores and scanned along the soft banks. The signs of nature holding her own dear to her; the moss, the stones, the water, the flora. The smells of each were strong and earth-rich. There was so much beauty for him to take in, and just as he had that thought, he saw something.

A mound, no maybe not. But it was not natural to this spot. From the distance and darkness, his human eyes could not make the object out well enough at first. He continued to look around the area as he approached this unusual spot.

Then it moved.

He stopped and immediately crouched down what he could. There was not much to available to help him hide along. His body instantly pinched some pain at the sudden snap to crouch. He saw the, well, what he thought was just a mound of earth, seen it uncurled and sit back. This was the best he could describe what he saw until approaching.

Czelsc slowly stood back up and crept along, his body slowly adjusting to being up again. He moved slowly until he realized what it was. What she was.

There she was.

He kept silent, unknowing what to do next. He wanted to find her, but hadn’t thought of the “then what?”

His thoughts were short. Though they were deep, considered, they were also short. He jumped to action.

Czelsc stood as straight as he could. His right leg stood out a little ahead of him to brace. The bag, the rifle, everything was packed away. His right hand hung along his side while his left hand braced the straps in his grip. He was intentionally showing no signs of wanting trouble. Of any risk to her. That he had no motive. No interest in danger.

He was still naïve to her truth. He knew she was different but nothing beyond that.
The swaying, flickering lights bringing some reflections to the water, blurry to him. Seeing this soft glow coming off her hands held underwater. His attention came to her.

He gripped the straps in his left hand one more time before speaking.

“...Hey-you..." The lower voice, the accent and the haste caused this greeting to easily be mistaken for only one word.

He stood still in the clearing, looking ahead to the woman who left him not long ago.

Character:
Vadrian Dawnwood



Light. Like sunlight. Bright. His eyes are closed. Yet he can feel the rays as plain as day.
Like he had felt her. Her fingers. Her whispers. The soft touch of a woman. Like the sun.
His woman. That man’s. Yet he felt no bed at his back. He was at rest. Was he...undone?
Had he met his end? Was this death? Am I alive? Stupid question. You’re already awake.

He had to be in order to think. Maybe this is merely a dream. Perhaps. Just another one.
Whatever gripped him, it was firm, though no smooth sheets as his bed had been. Dust.
That’s what the man’s past was. Ash and dust. She was gone. Vanished like mist. Away.
The man was alone, a gentle breeze on skin exposed, with a chill to the bone. No pain...

Wherever his beloved was, she was okay one way or the other. He promised himself this.
He’d be convinced of that much after the world had ended. When fortresses were broken.
He lied on his back. His eyes were closed. His hands slipped past fabric but felt no ocean.
Grass. He squeezed, feeling those blades of earth between fingers. Eyes began to open.

The sky is above him. No. There was no sun on that black canvas. More than one. Stars.
It wasn’t sunlight that warmed his skin. It was moonlight, cold as ice, that had frozen bones.
But the man began moving, spreading his arms, feeling twigs and leaves, sticks and stones.
Movements were languid, thoughts lazy, vision hazy, as he listened to a song of a pale heart.

Aine... He tasted her name on his lips. He could not hear his own voice. Where are...am...I...
Vaidin... She might say. If she were lying there next to him, stargazing, peering past treetops.
Beyond the dark green crowns, and the sky so far, on a new horizon, rising, like the new dawn.
I need you by my side. He might tell her. I always will be. She’d whisper. Now, my Dawn... Rise.

He did as bidden. It was night, twilight long gone, but the knight must rise. The dawn would.
Hours later, time did not matter. These trees were ageless. As ancient as House Dawnwood.
He got up. Knees were weak at first, as though he’d been asleep for years, but a man stood.
The Blade of Morning and the Earl of Tryhold. He walked, as the Lord of Dawnwatch should.

One foot forward, one boot after the other, carrying him onward through the forest’s thickets.
There were no lanterns guiding him, if barely a sense for direction, hardly a scent of purpose.
Maybe it was her, the voice in his head, the violin of his woman, his wife, bringing him in step.
Gaze ahead, hand bends a branch, ears hear the whisper of a bird, close, if still a bit distant.

Lord Dawnwood, no, a mere man, walked onward, suddenly aware of his outfit with its doublet.
A gold doublet, an orange shirt beneath it, grey trousers and boots. The colors of Dawnwood.
An orange wolf on a gold tree on a grey castle on a field of orange. Their sigil was in his head.
The signet pinned to his breast, a brooch emblazoned on his chest. I am Vadrian Dawnwood.

Shhh... The Lady of the Wood whispered. Forward. Onward. Toward the bird getting closer.
Lady Dawnwood, would she be waiting for him? Her husband’s heart thrummed in his chest.
Amid his ribs, he could hear the drum of blood thumping between his ears. A clearing ahead.
A burbling brook, maybe, a murmuring creek.The stream of dreams... He had a sudden thirst.

At the perimeter, on one side of the tree line, Vadrian stepped closer, and spotted a figure.
Another person, for certain, crouched down at the edge of the water. No. Though it isn’t her.
He stepped closer, as did another figure, a third, while this man was standing like the first.
Two men. One woman. Shaped like a wedge. A triangle. Like my own house...forever burned.

“...Is this...” He hesitated, hearing his own voice, not weak, but quiet, though just as good.
“This forest...” Vadrian’s thoughts could not find purchase. He looked from man to woman.
He did not recognize the former, the other man, and the back of the latter was turned to him.
“What is this place?” Will either recognize his own face or name? “I am...Vadrian Dawnwood.”

@Blesses Blight @Czelsc