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Walter
Chapter 9: A trip to the library




Rain smattered heavily against the window to their left, in the center of the small room a singular candle stood upon a simple round table. Its light was enough to make the three individuals' faces visible, all but the Spirit Walker who wore his hood far over his head.
”This is all very ominous, but would you care to explain the point to it now? Or do you suppose that I should guess it?” Walter leaned forward, he had been quiet in his protest until now but the mystery these two were shying away from was growing more interesting.
”It's best that you see it for yourself, Andalus.” Simoron replied, the witch sat casually in her own chair, her bright emerald eyes shone in contrast to the candle's and she smiles in sly knowing. ”I assure you it will all be quite clear.”
Walter looked at Larnicus, who said nothing. Then he peered back to Simoron and he swayed a hand.
”Then carry on, Simoron.” He said. And the witch did. Walter saw as she brought her hands forward, she performed rigid and stale motions, grasps and clutches of her hands that was different than any spellcasting that Walter knew, there was no fluidity, no motion or anchoring that was tied to wordly things. The spell was crude and dry, without emotion and its effect Walter could not guess. He looked back to the candle, its flame started to sway and flicker along with every move that the witch made. It contorted and twitched, as if the natural state of the fire fought against the witch's control. Walter started to wonder where this would lead, but before he could draw any thoughts he heard the voice of Larnicus to his right. The spirit Walker was finally speaking.
”From the Flame comes life. A power as mirrored as life's hypocritical illusions. From the Flame comes death. A truth defined by our existance in this Realm. For those who walk between it, in a world not of death, neither life – Flame is tangible, it is not our creator, nor our destroyer.” The voice came clear, Larnicus spoke in a way unhindered by any other sound, even the smattering against the window had silenced in respect of the Walker's chant. Walter sat frozen in his chair, listening to the Walker's words while staring at the flickering flame.
”The Flame is our tool. We are its masters and we shall dictate the fate of worlds, ours is the jurisdiction, ours is the vote and ours... Is the Execution.” There was a pause, Walter felt goosebumps rise across his back.
”Look into the fire, Andalus. And you shall witness the truth.”
Walter did. He felt his gaze draw toward the candle where it stood, now entirely azure blue, it flickered and twitched no longer. It stood tame and controlled, awaiting its receiver. Walter stared at it and as he stared the blue flame became larger, it spread out across his field of vision and blotted out both the Spirit Walker and the Witch. In the end all that he could see was the blue fire that encased him, it danced and weaved around him, blinding bright but he could not stop staring. The blue flame took over, there was nothing else. Until...

A courtyard. He had been moved, maybe even teleported. Walter looked around himself and saw the cobbled streets of a city he did not know, it was a ruin, decrepit and wasted past a millennium. In the central square stood the moss-covered remains of a fountain and on all sides were the fallen ruins of houses, cathedrals and castles. They spread far into the thundering skyline, towering crumbled spires and opulent statues of kings and heroes who had been slain long ago. Finally he looked down upon himself, his arms emitted a strange glow as did the rest of the body. As if he had been coated in an azure colour that shone a mild blue. He moved his hand and observed it for a minute, after a moment he concluded this must be spiritual magic. While his body wasn't here, he assumed his entire spiritual essence was. A manifestation of his own soul in corporeal form.
”How peculiar.” He noted and set his eyes back around himself. The dark square was empty but for him. How was it possible that a witch and a Spirit Walker could draw forth such magic? How had they discovered it? Walter took an uneasy step and noticed that walking was just the same, as was all of his physical actions. He canted his head and pondered before extending his right arm, he shut his eye and focused for a moment upon the arcane power around him, searching for something to bend. ”That can't be right...” He muttered and flexed the spread hand and the very air around him drew in. Wherever he was it held such a magical force that even the air was subject to a mage's grasp. Walter weaved his hand and looked as the air infront of him split in two. A tear in the very fabric of the world, on its opposite side he could see the dark void of the next realm. Walter swung his hand back and the tear promptly closed. He stopped all casting in fear of tarnishing reality and looked around the ruined city once more. ”Tara'Sufal.” He concluded, in only slight disbelief.

The city must have been the wonder of the world in its time. Walter could imagine where buildings once stood, beaming with alacrity and well being. Now the buildings lay crooked and fallen. A testament to what this city once was, and what it could have been. As Walter progressed he came to realize the city was empty. Not a soul or a single creature. From what he had read about the Outworld, which is where he assumed to be , it would be swarming with various creatures and Fables. There were none now and he made his way up a tall staircase unhindered by anyone else. The stairs led to a pantheon building, it was rounded and stood untop of a tall hill in the center of the city, Walter could see how the cityscape spread like a gray, ruined mass miles and miles in every direction. Towers and spires pointed up to the thundering clouds above but most were fallen short and crumbled. Walter made his way to the large doors of the building and opened them, he was met by a most wondrous sight. Information. Inside stood bookcases on every edge of the room, they spread in a labyrinth of wooden shelves littered with unending literature. Here was the knowledge of an entire civilization that had mastered science, magic and philosophy. Walter smiled and took a step inside. There was a sound, a rumble in the distance of the vast library. Walter looked toward the sound and then jumped in a startled noise. Several of the shelves came crashing down, something stampeded across them, tearing through wood and paper in its wake. Walter gasped at the wanton destruction and narrowed his eyes. A shelf came flying far above his head and smashed into the wall, splinters rained down upon him but he was fixated upon the creature responsible. It stood upon four limbs, indifferent from each other they were all pale milky white, its skin was that of blisters and scorch marks, the long limbs ended in thick cloved feet that scurried through the library in a frenzy. The creature turned its small, horrendous head to the sorcerer and fixated its two eyes on him, bloodshot and wide they looked upon him with murderous intent, it opened its maw and revealed the pincers that would undoubtedly tear him apart in seconds. Walter stood his ground, staring back at the creature. He would stand no chance against this beast in any actual battle. But he was no ordinary man, especially here. The Spider creature came rushing toward him, its limbs contorting unnaturally as it sprung toward the entrance where Walter stood. He took a single breath and locked his eyes upon the far end of the library, looking past the beast. With a single flutter of his eyes and a single breath taken he had moved, and now stood on the opposite side of the room. He turned and saw the creature crash against the smaller door, it scrambled and shrieked, furious as to have lost its prey. Walter had been right, moving across the void here was no consequence, which implied so much more... Walter rose his hand, swinging it in a singular pattern that he repeated, back and forth. After three turns around he brought his other hand upward as well. The creature had located him again and prepared its charge, shrieking into the air, spitting some sort of liquid upward. Walter rose his hands and with it every splintered piece of wood that lay across the floor hovered up, floating precariously in the air above them. The creature came at him again, clopping its cloves in a mad charge, Walter narrowed his eyes, took a breath and quickly thrust both of his hands forward and down. The debris he had grasped all flew down, honed in on the charging creature's warpath. They pierced with great speed into the creature's limbs, its small body and its weak head from above. The splinters of wood struck deep into the beast and it roared in tremendous pain, immediately stumbling and falling onto the floor in a terrible crash. It spun its limbs about in fury but failed to rise, bleeding sickly blood upon the ground and splashing it upon itself. Walter narrowed his brow in focus and spun his arms about in a secondary spellcast. He focused upon the blood spilt by the beast and by clenching his hands he gained control of that as well. The blood began to putter and boil, and the further Walter focused and the longer he held it, the warmer it became, the creature shrieked and stumbled again, crashing its head against more of the bookshelves as the searing heat left burns and pains across its body as well as within. This battle was forfeit.
”Out with you!” Said Walter, he could feel the rush of the arcane come upon him, he acted by instinct now, letting the blood within him and the power around him guide his actions. He spun his hands in a fluid motion and then thrust his palms forward. The creature seemed to freeze up mid-motion as the air around it cracked open. Several seams of reality suddenly burst open and were again promptly closed. The creature could not shriek any longer, the few parts of it that were still left in this realm fell down to the floor with a plain thud. As for the parts that had been moved. They would hardly bother anyone again.

Walter sighed and dropped his hands to his sides. He looked around and noticed the destruction caused by both him and the beast and he solemnly realized what had happened here so long ago. He shook his head and huffed out a tired breath before turning away from the destruction – There were books to be read.
Miriam
Chapter 19: The Lies of a Guide...


"Fire, they say was first released upon the world by its jailor in the hope to cultivate. Its embracing warmth and its serene light spurred life and allowed mankind to rise to immeasurable lengths and unfathomable strength, such was the power of fire - But fire grows, it becomes difficult to contain, in man's greed they feed it to gain more power, and further strength. Fire spreads, uncontrollable and hungry for devastation and ruin. In its wake only ashes and singed rock remain and what had once given life has now become the herald of destruction. Does this mean that it is in fire's fate to destroy? That the flames, heart of all life, are evil? What truth is there in muddled questions of an age long lost since before even memory? Perhaps there is only one question that is important to wanderers lacking direction in this world of enclosing dark..."

- Unknown Author

A foot dropped into the sinking ground and Freda yelped in surprise before raising her foot out of it. She found some ground and regained balanced upon it, even with Eliana upon her back again and the land becoming more and more similar to a bucket of sludge, sprinkled with tufts of water the knight pressed on as hardly as she had before.
"Miriam." She said, looking forward to where the Scavenger stood. "Please tell me, you can see the fort..." Perhaps tiring of carrying the Walker whose descent into possession only became more evident as time went on.
Miriam did not respond, she looked up to where she expected stars to shine, there were none. The only light that remained now was the dim light of the moon where it shone behind a barrier of thick, dark clouds. She sighed and set her heavy eyes down on the path ahead of them. The outline of the fort had been visible before, maybe a few miles off. Though she could see it no longer. She stared into the darkness that was ahead, aware that Freda was speaking with her, most likely asking for assistance. Miriam didn't listen, there was another voice that had more value now.
"You are doing good." It told her. "Take them into the water.. Into my hold." Miriam had attempted to ignore it earlier, but found it impossible now. She was never sure if it told her the truth, or if it lied. She could not rely on her senses, nor her own mind. Then what was she good for? The huntress sighed loudly and rubbed a dirt-caked hand over her settling eyes. She was getting tired, sleepy rather than weary.
"Miriam!" Freda beckoned. And the huntress shook her head briskly. Leia scampered back to assist Freda, though mostly hovered nearby, panting in support. "Please tell me.. You know where we're going."
"We... Need to go there." Miriam said, she narrowed her eyes and stared through the dark. The moon, she thought. It rose and it shines where it ought to be, but was it truly the light of the moon she saw? Or was it an illusion of her addled mind. She could not trust it, but this was the direction she had chosen, and she pointed forward reluctantly.
"You had better be right." Said Freda and walked past the huntress, Eliana hung meekly over the Knight's back, her hushed murmuring was incomprehensible but her state was clear as day, she would not last long and the environment had only worsened her illness. "If we do not reach the healer soon, I-.." Freda paused for a moment and looked down into the mossy ground. Miriam looked past her, she looked to their left where the bog had sunk into a natural body of water. Dark and chilling the water reflected only the clouds above and were just as black. Miriam saw it ripple, something moved within.
"Let's keep going." Said Freda at last. Perhaps she had said something else before that but it was the part that Miriam heard.
"...Right." The Huntress responded and left whatever had been in the water unmentioned.

They walked. Leia had learned to travel only on the grass and therefore walked first with no larger issue, the dog seemed uncertain and nervous, whimpering the occasional sound back towards Miriam. Whom only sauntered numbly after the dog, hoping that her friend would know the way as she could no longer see it herself. Freda came behind, she panted lightly and often let out a grunt or groan while adjusting the way the Walker hung over her. Eliana had grown pale and the black marks upon her limbs seemed to stand out even in this darkness. Miriam remembered it as the shadow that had surrounded her in Lowburg, and again outside of it. She remembered it had been comforting, though terrifying and she wondered if Eliana was perhaps in the same realm she had been then. Maybe she would know, once it happened to her... The voice ensured her that it would. And she did not doubt it spoke the truth now.

They walked. Miriam felt her legs grow heavy, she shut her eyes and could not tell the darkness of her eyelids from the one that surrounded them. Only by looking down could one see the path they followed. Uncertain if it even led where they hoped.

They walked. In silence and in desperation, Freda had most likely understood by now that Miriam knew not where to go, but what point was there in arguing and bickering now? There was only one option, to continue walking... Eliana murmured to herself, clinging tightly to the knight carrying her as if she was her final anchor to this world and that if she were to release it, she would plummet into the water, and be swallowed by it.

They walked. And Miriam came to realize the futility of it. Life's only purpose, its only end that all men and women and beast of the world share is to die. Why walk, if the only destination there is to reach is death? Why not sit down, shut your eyes and dream pleasantly. Dreams are so much more beautiful than the world, such a cruel, unfair world...

They flew. Miriam slowly opened her heavy eyes, her head bobbed back and forth in pace with whatever was carrying her, hooves thumped briskly against the path of gravel beneath them, both behind her and to her sides there were more horses, more riders. She let herself sink back and she felt someone behind her, an arm clutched onto her and held her closely so that she would not fall off. Miriam fluttered her eyes and imagined it all to be a dream, closeby she heard a familiar bark. Her head fell to the side and she saw a banner in the wind, it flew next to her. A radiant outline that sprung out from the darkness around. The bird held a flaming sword in its talons, screeching as if challenging any to face it, if they dared. Miriam let her head drop back against the man who held her and she shut her eyes again and darkness again took over her mind and her vision.
"Hello." She thought. "My old friend."

"One question... What's worth living for?"

Walter
Chapter 8: The Congress of Magic

”You're being preposterous.” Choffed Arel the Vast. Titled for both his vast knowledge of the world. As well as the vast width of his being, though this was never shared to him publically of course.
”Preposterous how?!” Rem Lornstone shouted back, he paced the circular room, adressing all of the twelve mages rather than just Arel. ”They will be expecting us, this is known. Why not use what we possess? We have our advantage. Cease it!” A murmur spread across the room as men leaned over to whisper either praise or folly into eachother's ears. No one whispered to Walter, they had understood by now how attempting to invite him into the conversation was futile.
”You'd have us throw everything into an uncertain plan. What proof have you, Rem? Hmm?” Replied Arel, shifting in his too small of a chair, a table stood beside him and platters of food were upon it, as if the man had nothing better to do than emphazise his own stereotype.
”I have faith in our God. I have faith in our limitless power. You and your lackeys would limit us due to cowardice?! That, Arel. Is not how wars are won.” Rem glared up at the man and smiled smugly as the murmur that followed seemed more approving than before. Walter had seen unbound magic before. It had resulted in fire that could melt stone. In wind that could shatter wood. All from one mage, whose ambition was rivaled only by his malice. Walter leaned forward in his seat to look at Rem. His intention was different than what Molaire's had been that day in Monarch's rise, but the result of his magic would no doubt be the same. Destruction. Arel spoke up again and Walter looked up and expected his response.
”There is no telling what effect such a spell would have. The ocean is a fickle mistress and last time such magic was utilized, It was by Death's Hand, to create the host of undead our fore-fathers struggled so to vanquish.” He paused to look around the room and all the elder men gathered nodded in solemn agreement. ”- The risk is not worth it.” He concluded and leaned back in his chair, he grabbed himself a biscuit and took a generous bite from it.
”Midway stories and nothing more!” Complained Rem.
”What say you, Andalus?” Simoron asked to everyone's surprise, it was the first time she had spoken during the lengthy debate and Walter had completely forgotten the witch was here to begin with. ”You lived among them. Do they expect us or not?” Walter looked from the witch who had spoken so brazenly to change the topic and instead he watched the men who had all grown silent. They respected the witch's opinion. Maybe because she had earned her place here not from blood-ties like them, but for rigorous training and raw magical talent, perhaps because she was the only woman in the room. Now they all looked to Walter, expecting the response. He nodded faintly, clearing his throat before speaking.
”No doubt. The Northeners do not forgive transgressions, and we have killed both their people and their king. They may even come at us directly for revenge.” Walter then shrugged and reclined in his seat. Wishing not to speak more than required, he scratched loosely across the bandage which covered his arm. A murmur followed between the men. Rem stared up at Walter from the center of the room. Walter watched Simoron however, the woman wore her hair in a practical bun and unlike most of the men in the circle she wore no robes. But rather preferred a lengthy leather coat. Rem spoke up and gained everyone's eyes again.
”Do you see, brothers? The Northeners will not be forgiving. They have seethed long already against us. Their army outmatches ours. We have but this one choice! Call upon the ocean and we shall drown their land in the flood of Valentia!” Some voices rouse up to match that. Agreeing upon Rem's decision. Walter scanned across the circle of mages. Arel shook his head in disagreement, Rovell and Pamarus, the twin sorcerers had gotten up from their chairs to support Rem. Simoron wore no expression, watching the men from her chair in idle boredom. Walter set his eyes on the fourteenth and final chair in the circle, which stood empty. The Sorcerer-King was as expected, not in attendance and their debate would lead around in circles as it had for two weeks now until the king did arrive and chose for them. Walter tore his gaze off the large chair and looked as Tamarus of Lazarus got up from his chair, the young man was essentially the ruler of the island. But his authority meant little now in times of war.
”If this spell risks the lives of our people, then it is not worth it! We shall continue with the invasion plan as already decided!” The mage may even have been older than Walter by a few years, but he looked a decade younger, trying and failing to gain the attention of the bickering sages. The boy eventually sat back down, the congress had elected to bicker and bicker they would. Walter watched the debates with melancholy, he sighed and shared a glance with Simoron who seemed to share his point of view. At least her eyes spoke of the same emotion. She looked at Walter and then faintly nodded past him, to his left. Walter followed the gesture and looked upon another silent character, they sat in their chair, covered beneath an azure cowl which hung over their face. Walter scrunched his face in thought, what had Simoron wanted to point out with this? The man under the cowl, Walter knew to be Larnicus, the only Spirit-Walker among the council. As expected he had said nothing, even when the debates touched upon his spectrum of the magical realm and people had been glad for his silence. Behind Larnicus a younger man stood, also dressed in an azure robe and carrying two finely carved staves, Walter did not know this one, Walkers were a mystery, most would argue, others would say they held no magical ability at all, that they were only stories people told, who would contrast other legends. Walter looked back to Simoron and she gave him her first smile, it stretched to the side of her face with sly intention. Walter blinked confusedly, Simoron flashed her smile and winked one eye toward him. What she implied, Walter could hardly guess but he doubted it bode well.
Miriam
Chapter 18: Return


"Miriam, quickly now." Said Freda, the knight looked back to her with an eager look but still seemed sympathetic to the huntress' plight. Miriam pushed a branch out of her face, the forest was quiet and scorch marks had imprinted themselves on trees throughout it, it was easy to find the way back but Miriam found focusing much too hard currently. When she looked up, she could not see the sun, though Freda assured her it was there and whenever she shut her eyes she would feel the presence of her parasite, so she kept her eyes open.
"I'm trying." She complained, walking around a rock which lay in her way. "I'm not feeling very well."
"Which is precisely why we need to be swift, my people will have healers - We must find Ellie as soon as possible." Freda explained for the fifth time, she waited for Miriam now and afforded her a helping hand up the slope.
"Because the world is in terrible danger." Miriam muttered, the knight had explained her story but Miriam had paid little attention to it. "Ellie told you." Miriam added, as if to clarify the confusion.
"Ah.. Well, no. A spirit did." Freda said, pushing her way through some shrubberies. "It only appeared as Ellie."
"...Right." Said Miriam and looked back ahead, they were coming to the edge of the forest now.
"I am not of full understanding either." Said Freda, slightly vexed. "But the task is clear enough." She was very invigorated and moved as someone who hadn't been punched by a troll ten minutes ago. Miriam was growing rather jealous of her new companions and their magical boons, which seemed to give them unlimited potential, where as she was only getting dragged along this journey of theirs.
"If you say so." Said Miriam lowly. She honestly just wanted her dog right now. There was a brief silence as the subject was dropped, Freda spoke up again later.
"Why were you weeping?" She asked, her voice grown softer and more curious.
"As I understand it, I have a magical mad-man inside of me. So excuse me for crying." Said Miriam, rather annoyed. Freda frowned in some concern, most likely understanding there was more to it but she said nothing else about it. Miriam sighed, adjusted her large coat and looked back ahead, the trees became sparse, and the icy fields of the North were becoming visible through the woodwork.

There was a happy bark, Miriam bent down and embraced Leia's head in a tight hug. The dog nestled her muzzle against Miriam and lapped her tongue in the air happily. Ellie appeared next to her, she seemed more like herself now, whatever that meant with a girl such as her. She'd stopped talking to herself, at least. She and Freda spoke instead. Miriam did not truly listen to what but she felt as if the two were aware of things she could not even comprehend.
"We have got to hurry." Said Eliana to Freda, she held onto her tattered dress as it swayed with the cold wind. Freda nodded and looked down to Miriam and Leia.
"How much further is it?" She asked, Miriam struck a frown and pushed herself to her feet, Leia left her and skipped about in swift circles around both her and Freda. Miriam looked across the landscape, rolling hills that were tied together by slopes and stretches of dense wood, this part of the Northlands was mostly useless to her, though she knew them nonetheless, even without the sun she could point out the direction they needed to go.
"Day's walk south." She said, nodding that way. "There will be a road past those hills there." She spoke from her own memories, every road and path cataloged and mapped. Every crevice and town placed in order of necessity. This is what she was here for. "We will see the fort long before they see us."
"Then we've no time to loose." Said Freda, she then looked to Ellie who nodded gravely.
"I do not know how long we have, but I pray it'll be enough.." The Walker said, she then turned and looked out into the field before them, as if she saw something they could not. She then took a step, and another and like that she was leading the rest. The Walker was transfixed upon her location, the knight walked after her, focused upon her task. Miriam and Leia walked last, unsure about most of it. Miriam was at least, she looked down to Leia who returned a happy bark, and it filled Miriam with a feeling of hope, she reached down, patted the dog's head and then followed the others. Though she was filled with doubt of both their destination and their purpose. Especially given the trust the two seemed to put in things they did not really understand.

Meanwhile, further North

Walter took a deep sip from the tea, it was bitter but most likely good for your health. He had never enjoyed bitter tea but alas, it would have to do. He smiled politely and sat the cup down.
"Thank you." He said and the woman nodded kindly back his direction. She was pouring her own cup now. The two sat in the center of a raggedy tent, the tent had been set up just a few hours ago in the outskirts of the rest of the camp of refugees. They blabbered and shouted outside, proclaiming both doom and glory. News came in hourly of the supposed fate of both King and the town. Walter looked down and noticed a face by the edge of the table where he sat. The little dark haired boy peeked at him, eyes just above the edge of the wooden piece of furniture. He smiled uncomfortably for the child and expected him to stop staring, he didn't. Walter blinked confusedly, unsure what to do. He was released as the mother spoke. Her accent thick and unruly.
"'s a right mess it is. And you tellin' me the poor Walka's up and died?" She asked, unphased by the presence of her son.
"Indeed." Said Walter, and took a new sip from his bitter tea before continuing. "Jonius' death is both a shame, and untimely. I am uncertain how the plan will continue without him..."
"Got ta' be somebody else." Said Anathema, raising a questioning brow. Walter frowned thoughtfully and furrowed his brow.
"Perhaps. Though even if we find them, we may already be out of time..."
Miriam
Chapter 17: Dreams of Home


"What in the name of..." Miriam found the words oddly familiar in her mouth. She peeked out from her hiding spot upon the charred wasteland before her, trees were still crackling with sparks and embers, the dry moss on the rocks had all but been evaporated, as had any sign of the troll that had assailed them. The forest looked so different and the sensation it carried was also different, as if the entire forest had been altered by this immense power surge. Miriam warily climbed down from her rock and landed on the crispy ground, she felt lighter somehow as well and she had a smile on her face when calling out to the knight she could not see. "What is the DEAL with you two?! Wow-eehe!" She laughed and looked to the crevice where she assumed the knight would be. She was right. "Oh... Crud." Her tunic was splattered as if by paint, as was her face and hair. She was entirely drenched in blood and she lay completely incapacitated on the ashen ground, head fallen against the rock behind her. The air around her still seemed to sizzle with some magical energy. Miriam quickly drew in and gently tried to rouse the knight. "H-Hey... Uh, well. Good job! You awake?!" There was no response and the knight's head only slumped forward instead. Miriam gulped. "Damnit... Please don't be dead." She pleaded and then brought her head forward, she tilted it and pressed her ear against the knight's chest, listening intently for a few seconds. She then leaned back, relieved to have heard a heartbeat, if a faint one. "Oh, thank you!" Miriam drew a sigh of relief and sat down with her legs folded beneath her. "What a day..." She groaned and absently huffed a breath up at her black bangs. "Can't say that wasn't entertaining." She added, in a bit of a mad cackle.

"You... are heavier than you look." Miriam complained, she dropped the unconscious knight against the moss-covered tree, she then quickly fixed it so the woman was covered by her cloak, there wasn't anymore bleeding but she had already lost enough blood and was close enough to being dead. There would be no moving for some time at least. Miriam adjusted the knight's resting pose. She wiped away some of the blood covering the woman with her sleeve, she had no water to use so this would have to do. She doubted the knight really cared if she was blood-splattered, should be happy to be alive. Miriam sat herself down next to the woman she still didn't know the name of and a thought seemed to come to her, as a voice in the back of her head.
"You could just leave her." It suggested. Miriam looked around the forest. She then shook her head. "Who would blame you?" The voice in her head continued. "You could just say she was slain by the troll, no one would ever know." Miriam pursed her lips, she didn't like how articulate her head voices were, they had never been so malicious before either. "Miriam. If you stay here, you'll both die... This is for the best." The voice said again.
"Screw you, Head voice." Miriam muttered. And then it was silent, just like that. Miriam looked back to the knight where she lay and she figured she had to prove the head voice wrong. She was going to help this person. Why she had become such a compassionate person as of late she would never realize, but she kind of liked helping. It brought up a new feeling which seemed to make her warmer inside, a feeling that she enjoyed. She got it again now when looking at the Knight woman. Miriam cracked a smile for herself and adjusted her seat slightly. The air was chilly, even more so now without her cloak but she had suffered worse, especially when she was little. Miriam was quite confused with herself but the pictures just seemed to come to her: North, even more North than any person really ought to go, least of all live. There was a cabin halfway up the mountain, smoke rose from the small home's chimney from a fire that burned inside a large hearth. Around the hearth three people sat. A small girl with pitch black hair, uncombed and unwashed. Next to her sat an older boy, he was muscular and held the little girl close to his chest. Finally there was a woman, she wore a thick sweater and held a poking stick, which she often used to rouse the embers of the fire. Miriam smiled to herself again, she felt her eyes well with the beginning of tears and she sniffled once in happy thought.
"How quaint." The Head voice spoke up again, and Miriam's own memories now erupted. The hearth she had imagined exploded in an inferno not unlike what she had just witnessed and the three people around it were encircled and swiftly enveloped by the madly raging fire. Miriam then saw the cabin, as she had before but now it was a massive bonfire rather than a home, the flames cracked and whipped against the sky and before long, the house on the mountain was no more.
"Stop. Stop!" Miriam cried out, she held her hands over her head and balled her legs up, she shut her eyes in a desperate attempt to block out this vision but to no avail as the snippets of pictures came to her still. The house was no more, it was only a bundle of burnt logs and ashen stone. One pile of timber shifted, it buckled and gave way, a small hand crawled through the rubble and the little girl pushed her way out, she looked around, eyes glossy with her welling tears. "Please stop..." Miriam whimpered. She saw the girl crawl up, her wooly sweater had been singed by the fire but the girl was miraculously mostly unharmed. The girl shouted but there was no sound coming from her mouth, she cried the names of those who had sat next to her and then she waited. Her tears fell over her sooty face and her hair was smokey black, just as it had been before. Miriam promptly shoved herself to her feet, she buckled and wobbled but she stood. The vision ended, there was no more to come, just the sound of her head voice, ringing a hollow, concise laugh. Miriam fell back to her knees, she looked at her hands and she began to sob uncontrollably.
Walter
Chapter 7: Rebirth


The Syren slowly faded out of view. Walter watched the gray blot of fog where he could see the pram of the ship lie, clouded in the thick gray mists. Like the melancholy of his heart, the fog lay as a sheet which hid all of his true desires from him. An uncertain emotion crept into his heart, he could not think rationally for this was not a puzzle that the mind could solve and the emotion he felt could not be described with words coherent. It was insignificant. The ship was no longer in sight and he had lost his chance. Yet he persisted to look into the fog where the ship had once been visible. Harsley paddled with determined vigour behind him and with each stroke the powerful man pulled they drifted further apart from the Syren, and from home. Walter was certain Harsley spoke to him, though he did not hearken and the words only came across as meaningless grandiure. The water blended together with the gray fog and it sloshed in pace with Harsley's rowing. Walter looked into the fog until he was no longer searching, he only stared numbly, expecting and awaiting nothing to appear. He remained sat like this, and for the remainder of the trip he wished he and Olive had remained with the man whom offered them rest all that time ago. He wished that they had never reached this point and finally he wished that maybe at the end of this fog lay awakening. And they would in truth, still be on the road. Forever walking.

This was only a dream. It had been an obvious ruse of the mind, but Walter still found himself dissapointed when he found reality at last. The shore that he stepped down on was not sand, it was a myriad of sharply cornered rocks that had by the sea's incessant power been whittled from the great cliff that sat before them. It was not particularly tall but due to the heavy fog its peak was not visible. The air was damp and the reek of seaweed littered the inhospitable shore. Harsley dragged their small boat unto the shore and joked something about Walter helping while twiddling the fingers on one hand in a mystical fashion. Walter watched the large man with dour expression, he wore a coat befitting the poor weather and had changed hats to one less ludicrous, in fairness he was a good man. Loyal and strong, undoubtedly useful. But Walter was only struck with dissapointment when he looked at him. How could anyone be excited to be here? To leave everything behind for the sake of death alone? If this was honour, then Walter wanted none. Walter looked down the beach past the man as he could stomach the thought no longer. It looked much the same as the rest of the landscape: gray. The cliff sat to their left, unwelcoming and pointy. Lazarus isle, the closest of Valentus' many islands to the mainland and to their enemy. Walter found himself following Harsley forward. Truly. they were in no rush, they were to meet the local garrison and prepare for the fleet's arrival in three week's time. This place would be the staging point for the war to come and preperations needed to be made by seasoned and willing officers. Harsley fit this perfectly and would no doubt be able to do so alone, even without an army the man would no doubt go to war if the King demanded so. Relying on determination alone. Walter was here because he was an annoyance. He had been forced to leave and-... Though had he? He stopped to think: Had he not accepted his duty without recourse or even argument? He had obediently shied to the orders of his lord and the will of his country and perhaps this was the reason it hurt him so. More than his bandaged arm did. That he had simply walked.
”Come on, Andalus.” Harsley said over his shoulder, holding a lantern before him which lit up his stoic face. ”Long way to walk yet.” The captain smiled in a brotherly fashion for the sorcerer. In a way that Walter imagined he smiled to all of his kinsmen. Walter pitied his sense of duty but respected the man's simple position enough to respond.
”Yes... Lead the way.” He followed Harlsey down the beach and they were soon on the cobbled path, which would lead them to war.
(Keep in mind these are the recorded thoughts of Walter Andalus and may or may not be actually correct. "Keep an open mind and surprise will be replaced with enlightenment")

”Things that ought not be.”
Compendium of magic
By Walter Andalus


Chapter 1: The fundamentals

The purpose of this book is to bring information and understanding to the Catalysts and magically adept of nations where the art has been banished or forbidden. It is to further knowledge of all, so that the mistakes of the past are not repeated. Enjoy the read.
-Walter Andalus

When discussing magic it is preferable to be familiar with a few classifications, to best avoid laymen's terms. When referring to items or people with magical properties, Catalyst is the word most commonly used. These properties may vary, as may the magical ability of the person or item. In most cultures a person able to perform magic is known as a Mage. In the Mage nation of Valentus a man becomes a sorcerer when allowed into the council of the King's Scholars. In other nations it is common to hunt Witches, women born with magical abilities who cannot control or understand their powers.

When referring to creatures who have either been created or addled by magical manipulation we use the word Fable, although it is more common to call these creatures Monster or Fairy, even though this is a much too narrow point of view to describe such marvelous creatures and their very differing appearances and nature.

The laws of magic are not governed, they are stretched thin but we can classify a few different schools and assume they belong to a select couple of powerful spirits. (See Chapter 2) The names of these spirits vary vastly between different cultures and faiths. As some are considered gods and other are not aware of their existence in the slightest. What these spirits are exactly and what their connection to the different kinds of magic has, is uncertain even to this day.

Magic, despite popular belief for most cultures, is not an uncontrollable force of destruction that inhabits poor souls. Neither is it a tool easily controlled. Comparing magic to either something as simple as a tool or something plain as evil, is the fastest and easiest way to distance yourself from the true wonder of magical ability. Realizing that magic is in truth, something entirely unique is the first step you will need to take to reach understanding.

Chapter 2: The Catalysts, and the creation of Mages
The Northern mages

Where precisely magic originated is uncertain, records show that humankind has been the host of magical ability since before civilizations were first formed. It is safe to assume that the great empire of Tara'sufal was founded upon magic and later destroyed by the very same art. Thus their history and culture was wiped from the earth. However the first recorded mage of our own time was Larcel Tym. A man of the northern nations who inexplicably discovered the ability to manipulate the air around him, making it either warmer, or colder. A simple enough spell but it would be the origin of magic as we know it. Several individuals huddled around Larcel as in the Northlands it is common practice to share what you have, and to share warmth would truly be one of the greatest of gifts in such a inhospitable land. Larcel was viewed by many to be a savior and hero, and his goodwill nature was recorded by both minstrels and historians. His feats and stories are many but they all culminate in that he would later discover others with similar potentials and he would teach his own art to these lucky few. Thus the creation of the northern mages was asserted. Their focus being to bring pleasantries to the young nation. Their story would not end happily. (See chapter 4)

The God of Heart reveals itself

Meanwhile to the west, a more dramatic story revealed itself. As the pilgrims who arrived upon the many shores of the western sea were met by a most queer hospice. The Valentian legends tell us that Lavaticus Horsefell was the first to recieve visions from the great god of Hearts, the god was named Valentia and the nation Valentus was founded with the guidance of these visions. The legends continue to explain the powers granted to Lavaticus, that he could change weather, turn time forward and command the animals of both sea and sky to do his bidding. This art he shared with thirteen apostles, as Valentia ordained him to. These legends are today viewed with some skepticism, as most of the feats performed by Lavaticus can be explained by natural occurrence or common happenstance. However the impact and power that Lavaticus still has on our culture to this day is impossible to disregard, as the first Sorcerer-King. His line even lives on and sits on the Tidal Throne to this day and age.

The Midway legends
In the central kingdoms, many years before magic had been a less commanding force in the culture. In the nations of Midway, magic was not what had commanded their resources or growth but rather their faith. The nations had been assaulted by monstrous Fables and indescribable plagues for generations. Its citizens were dying and the end of life was certainly imminent, had it not been for the intervention of what is now believed to be one of the grand spirits of benevolence, the nations would surely have fallen into chaos. The spirit is known as Ho-Dar and it translates to a great many things. Ranging from simply Flame to Phoenix of Compassionate death. The spirit (or god) granted the champion warriors of the nations a share of their own power, and under the very first Grand-Marshal. A man known as Cedric the many small nations rallied and grew into one order of the Faith that would together destroy the dark faction and its ”Black leader”. (See chapter 3) It is uncertain what exactly occurred during these times but the Midway legends explain it as a battle of otherworldly proportions, and their own historians claim that this was the ushering of the first era. An arrogant and narrow, If not imaginative view of the world. The Faith of the Flame was unrivaled in the southern kingdoms, as many other nations grew to accept this benevolent savior as their god and protector. It is also important to note that the magic of the Phoenix differs greatly from the other arts. Rather than being able to command and manipulate the world, they are allowed gifts from the great Flame in form of prayers and blessings. It is very likely that it is only a different kind of magic, rather than an occurrence different in itself and that this is only the shape that the Spirit of the Flame has elected to show itself in.

Spirit Walkers
The most mysterious kind of Magic is that of the Spirit Walkers. The origin of this magic is entirely shrouded in mystery, perhaps even to their own kind. To try and understand their position without being able to see what they are able to percieve is a task of utmost folly. What most scholars can agree on is that one if one in every thousand is born with magical ability, then one in each of those thousand has the potential to become a Spirit Walker. This would mean that for every Ten thousand people in this world, there is One Spirit Walker. What magic they actually possess vary. They are known to have control of lighting and shading. Being able to manipulate the very light of the sun and moon to their liking. According to the rumors, a Spirit Walker would be able to enter the second realm. The world between ours and the final realm, as well as the Outworlds from which the Fables originate(See chapter 3). What benefits they gain from being able to do so is uncertain but due to this ability they are sought after by other both other mages as well as any person who wishes to better understand the links between our worlds. To note every rumored ability of Spirit Walkers would not only be a waste of time, it would also be a show of stupidity. To assume that they are true without proof would lead to the fear and indignation that the Walkers are already much too aware of.

Death
The last main form of magic is that of the Shadow. Much like the Spirit Walkers, it is rumored that the members of the Death's Hand were able to enter the second realm. What other powers the cultists had is unclear, as they were all destroyed during the Ushering of the first Era. Though it is clear that they were responsible for the curse of undeath that settled in our world, somehow. Causing spirits to roam in the second realm and even return to their bodies when they should have found peace in the last realm of existence. It is safe to assume however, that the Death's Hand were the masters of magic, and could only be countered by the power of the Phoenix. Without its assistance, we would live in a world ruled by these people. And such horrid thoughts, I would rather avoid.

There are several smaller nations around these lands and their faiths and views of magic vary from nation to nation. Explaining each different view would take much too long, as they are mostly just different views on the topics we have discussed above.

Chapter 3: Fables and the Outworld

Scholars agree that the Fables arrived from the Outworlds. Either by their own volition or from being summoned by tears in the realms, caused by a dangerous use of magic. It is a common misconception to compare the Outworld with the third realm of existence, as they are both hosts of magical power and creatures that we do not fully understand. Cornelius Marvellus wrote in his compendium of magical beasts that : ”Fables are not different from the beasts of our own realm, they act as their nature and instinct allows, they hunt, mate and sleep as need be. Their means may vary greatly from that of our own creatures, (As in drakes who'd breathe fire, or reptiles in the shape of trees to camouflage themselves.)” Thus we can assume that the creatures of Outworld are just that, creatures. However magically distorted they may be, they are still limited to their animalistic instincts. We can bunch the Fables into three different categories.

The Creatures of Outworld would be the first. These Fables have their origin in the Outworld and have arrived in our world through different means. They do not belong in our world and do not enjoy their time here. Our nature and our laws of the Realm are different than what they are used to and they have a difficult time adjusting to this. Thus they are mostly agressive, (but this could simply be their standard position from the Outworlds.) They vary from the mutated Fishfolk that crawl in deep sea caves to the trolls and ogres of myth. These are often known as Monsters.

The second type are the Chimera. The Chimera are creatures of our own world that have in some way been addled by magic, either by mating with a similar species from the Outworlds or by some spell cast upon them. These are more rare than the typical Fable and the creatures become half natural and half magical. They are among the most legendary creatures of the world. Such as the Pegasus or the Phoenix. It is also commonly believed that drakes are members of the Chimera family, rather than the Fables.

The last is the Spirit. This is one of the most complex topic to discuss within magic as the nature of spirits is entirely individual. We simply do not know what, how or why they are. What can be agreed upon is that spirits appear as representations of our own emotion. If you find yourself in a place of great magical power you may bump into a spirit who is just as likely to share its knowledge as it is to posess you. The simple truth is that we do not know what spirits are. They could possibly be the souls of dead people. They could be the emotion of a forest, they could be gods that created us all, they could be any of all these things, or none of them. How they appear and how we remember them changes and there are very few records of people actually communicating with these beings. (See Chapter 2) To assume what powers these spirits possess or what exactly they are, is worthy of a book in itself. Some would assume that creatures such as Ho-Dar is a spirit of Fire. And that the ”Black Leader” is a spirit of Death who use humankind to wage a war against eachother. There are also theories that the creatures of the third realm can enter the bodies of pregnant women and that their children would then become hosts of the creature. Thus creating a human – Spirit Chimera. This is only speculation, though and there is no recorded history of such activity.

Chapter 4: Magical ability, and its dangers
Those born with magical abilities carry an immense responsibility. If you do not learn to control your innate powers then you will soon find yourself a danger to yourself and to others in your vicinity. If you wish to achieve safe results with your magic then you will need to practice the necessary gestures and phrases that will ultimately link the realms and allow you to manipulate the world around you. You will also need an understanding of what power you have as a catalyst, and what power you will need to draw elsewhere. If you do not learn the proper spells than the magic that is locked within you will release itself according to your own emotions. An outburst of anger may as well summon a spiral of fire and cool disregard may as well cause the air around you to chill.

What follows are a few mentions of times that magic has caused great harm and terror in our world, may they act as a warning for those inquisitive and unknowing.

The Fall of the Northern Mages
One of the most notable occasions of dangerous magic is the Fall of the Northern Mages. Generally debated by both supporters and antagonists of magic and its arts as the most important magical event in the Northern realms. Second only by the explosion at the Royal Spire only a decade ago, which killed King Mallus Averheim, and ended the impending peace between the North and Valentus. At any rate, the first mage of our time was as previously stated a man by the name of Larcel Tym. A simple and charitable individual who had the power to control the air around him to create heat, acting as a bonfire for the populace of his small town. First considered to be a hero he gained a following and after many years of pilgrimage he had learned to teach this art to other gifted individuals. This was the creation of the first order of Mages in the North, it was also the last order of Mages. The people of the north were different in many ways and often battled between eachother, until the time that they were united under one king and their nation was officially founded, what many do not enjoy acknowledging is that the people of the north was at first united by magic. The different people of the north joined together under Larcel's teachings which did not please their leaders, who considered other people and their's to be a bad mix, and that Larcel was little more than a man hungry for power, and that in time he would use his following and create an army which he would use to sieze the realm for himself. If these threats are warranted or not can be debated back and forth forever, as in truth, we do not know the truth. What we do know is that the chieftans of the north decided that Larcel and his "God-given" power was best removed. So they removed him. Larcel was slain by the first union of the Northern people and the north erupted in a short-lived civil war between the followers of the Chiefs, and the pupils of Larcel, who unleashed, (at the time) devastating magic. (We would consider it meager in this day and age.) The chieftans won the war and an illwill to magic had seeped into their minds, a position they would keep even now, near a whole millenia later.

The Grand summoning

The Grand summoning is a bed time story mages hear in order to scare them into subordination. In the lands of Valentus, a country renown for its liberal use and study of magic a mage was born by the name of Tomsom Moore. Tomsom writ a great amount of texts and spells that would further the art of magic in the nation beyond any mage before him, even the sorcerer kings. How Tomsom gained the understanding of the Outworld that allowed him to be so creative and fluent in the magical way is most likely due to some sort of deal made with either a creature of the Outworld or even a spirit, just like the Sorcerer-Kings of old. Tomsom was considered a great asset to the nation for most of his life, until one day he used his resources of the college of magic to fund his vanity project. The opening of a gateway that would lead directly to the Outworlds. (Note that the Outworlds are reachable with ship.) For what reason we can not know, as when the spell was to be performed Tomsom was halted by the college who considered the project too dangerous to perform. They were a little to late however and Tomsom finished his gateway and in the words of Grand-Sorcerer Torel at the time: "From it poured horrors of another world, such creatures I could not have imagined in my deepest nightmares. They tore at eachother in greed and wanton destruction, all pressured by an urge to spew into our realm, claws and teeth and scales, the creatures blended together until all we saw was Death itself as it entered our halls."

To this day and age, the island and the gateway still exists just off the coast of Valentus isle. Expeditions have been made and projects performed but no warrior or mage has ever been able to unravel the secrets of the island, and have all turned back in fear of horrible death. It remains as a dangerous and inhospitable rock that reminds us all that ambition in the arts, may very well lead to utter destruction.
Miriam
Chapter 16: The not so silent woods


"What in the name of..." Miriam remained hanging from the branch she had begun climbing. The rules for fighting against bears were simple; Don't do it. She looked down to where Ellie sat, the giant furball had fallen down on the ground next to her and it didn't move. "Ellie?!" She shouted down. "Are you alright?" Miriam still hung from the branch with one leg over it, she had an arrow betwixt her teeth and her voice was muffled because of it. Eliana looked up to where Miriam hung and gave her a sort of smile, Miriam didn't like it.
"Never better." She said and stood back up, with suspicious leisure she dusted herself off and looked down at the giant dead bear next to her. Leia approached and circled the bear, sniffing its fur with disdain. She then looked up at Miriam and barked proudly, panting in glorious victory over her greatest foe.
"Well..." Miriam started saying with an uncertain voice. "What happened?" The Walker smiled and gave Leia a light pat on the head.
"It's just magic, no need to worry your little head about it." Miriam twitched a frown. Her head wasn't that little.
"Hmph." She humphed while swinging herself off the branch, she landed on the dank ground with a thud and promptly swung her bow back over her shoulder. Approaching the dead bear to rip one of her arrows out of its thick fur. It had hardly pierced the skin of the great beast and yet Ellie had killed it with no issue what so ever. Something was seriously off, and the only person who knew what was off fighting monsters in the woods. Miriam looked skywards and spotted the light of some stars, she then found the closest boulder and checked on which side the moss grew. All the while Eliana remained close to the bear, petting Leia, wearing a strange smile on her lips.
"We're not far off out of the woods now." Said Miriam, looking back to the strange Spirit Walker. "The Southern exit should bring us out into the fields. Then it's just a day's walk to the fort. That a way." She pointed down south into the dense woods. Eliana nodded firmly and took a few steps that direction, she was full of vigour that Miriam honestly envied. Weariness had hit her like a rock and no adrenaline rush could match it. Her legs still hurt from where the shadow tendrils had tripped her but it wasn't the largest hindrance in the world.
"Good. I look forward to meeting these healers." Said Ellie, taking some steps into the forest to where Miriam had pointed. Miriam struck a concerned frown and adjusted the bow over her shoulder.
"Yeah, well..." Miriam looked back the way they had come and as she looked the whole forest seemed to shudder with a tremor of power. Something roared within it and Miriam could imagine what it had been. "How do you think she's doing?" Eliana looked the same direction and seemed to consider this for a moment.
"Don't underestimate those knights. She may survive." It was a blatant statement and it lacked the uncertain tone that had defined Eliana earlier. Miriam considered her available actions for a moment, eventually she sighed out and gave a sharp whistle. Leia ran up to her immediately.
"Lells. Stay with Ellie." She commanded with a sharp nod and Leia replied with an affirmative bark. Miriam then looked up at Ellie where she stood at the brink of the thick foliage. "Wait just outside the woods, ought to be some elevation you can find. Got it?"
"And where are you going?" The girl queried curiously.
"Picking up our jailor..." Miriam sighed and shook her head meaningfully.

The way back was simple enough to traverse, Miriam had rushed through more dense woods before, but none with such hesitation. Whenever she had encountered a threat she and Leia were always fast and clever enough to avoid it competently or smartly run away. That was how she handled it, this hero business was simply not in her nature. There was another roar and Miriam changed her direction slightly to match it, she wanted to appear on the flank of the beast at least. She passed through a glade she recognized and the thundering steps of the monster grew louder, she heard someone shout in the same direction. Obviously the knight, Miriam did not even know the name of her jailor but at this point and time, she had to admire the courage that she possessed. She would have called it stupidity but considering the position Miriam had gotten herself into she figured she couldn't really judge people's intelligence anymore. Miriam pushed through some shrubbery and sprang out the other side into the pounded glen.

The gray back of the monster towered in front of her, its bull tail swished back and forth in frothing fury and its massive arms pounded the ground before it, or rather one of them did. The other hand was pierced by a spear held by the knight who thrusted against it in furious desperation. She bellowed a battlecry and pushed back, a futile action as the troll took a thundering step back and then swung its other hand about, it struck into the knight and threw her aside, but her sword had met it and the troll roared alongside the wounded knight as its hand was cut into.
"Crap. Crap. Crap." Miriam breathed rapidly and quickly flung her bow about, she strung a bow and pulled back the string past her ear. Actually striking the troll would be simple, the plan after that was less clear. She let the arrow go and it whistled past her ear speedily, it flew through the air and then struck against the back of the troll's head. A hit! Miriam thought. Only to realize the arrow had bounced off the skin. "Oh.." The monster growled and turned its head around, the large maw snorted and its blistered snout sniffed for the new target.
"Miriam?! What're you doing?!" The exhausted voice of the knight was heard from the other side of the troll.
"I don't know!" Miriam shouted back and quickly turned on her heels. She shrieked and sprung past one of the overturned logs just as the fist of the troll smashed into the ground behind her. She stumbled and quickly rolled to pick up her momentum, with the bow held in her hand, some of her arrows were lost in the movement. Miriam made a turn as the troll flipped the log in mad fury, roaring in frustration. The log crashed into the trunk of some tree that Miriam ducked beneath. She shrieked again, cursing her decision and cursing the knight, the troll and Walter. She did however keep moving, running from trunk to trunk to avoid the flailing of the furious monster. Eventually she had circled the glen halfway and was suddenly stopped by something in her path. She thudded against it.
"I told you to leave! Where is Ellie?!" The knight gave Miriam a whack over the head.
"Outta the woods by now with Leia. Don't you worry about miss Magic fingers!" Miriam shouted back up at the taller woman. "She can take care of herself." Their argument was interrupted as the tree they hid behind was smashed into, it creaked and some of the bark snapped off of it. The troll reached its hand behind to try and reach them, while pushing its weight against the tree. The Knight thrust her spear into the hand and the troll recoiled, but only grew angrier. "Besides. I came back to help you. So.... You're welcome!" The knight groaned and took hold of Miriam by the arm, dragging her away from the tree. They rushed past a mossy rock just as the troll toppled the tree they had hid behind. It turned and followed them, fuming with ravenous fury. Freda flung Miriam behind herself and readjusted the grip of her weaponry. The knight was tired but obviously intent on either winning. Or dying.
"Then help! And don't get in my way."
"Tsk. Excuse me, Princess." Miriam sassed back while drawing one of the few arrows she had in her hip quiver. She knocked it and awaited the Knight's move.
Miriam
Chapter 15: The Fateful Spirit-Walker, the Misplaced Princess and Miriam


"Tap." Miriam said, as she tapped Ellie on the forehead. The girl opened her eyes hazily but stared beyond Miriam's face into the gray sky above. Miriam struck a concerned expression and let Ellie slump back down to sit. She looked back to Freda who stood a few feet away, arms folded and expression stubbornly rigid. "I don't think we're getting much farther." Miriam said. Standing back up with only a light grunt. She shook her head firmly in an attempt to brush off the dozy feeling, it helped but only minorly.
"We are not stopping now." Freda replied, her hand absent-minded waving Leia away. The dog had taken a strong liking to the knight as of the latest hour. Miriam rose a brow of question.
"She can't really walk..." She said, implying rest. Not speaking of her own weary head but rather just gesturing down to Eliana.
"Then I shall carry her." Freda argued. "We're not stopping out here. The battle is still too close." Miriam scoffed in response to that.
"We're miles off by now. Why would they come this way?" She looked toward the shadowy outline that was Lowburg.
"We must reach my encampment soon. And, those murderers might still be abound."
"Which murderers?" Miriam asked no one in particular in a sarcastic scoff, imagining all sides to be equally guilty in this affair. Freda struck a harsh face, perhaps taking personal blame in the comment. Miriam didn't imagine Freda liked her, but she did seem intent on helping Eliana. Besides, the knight could probably slice her down in a matter of seconds if she wanted to and Miriam had tempted death too much these last couple of days to try her luck against this armoured giant of a woman.
"We shan't stop now." Freda said. "Do you wish to suffer death from the Shadow, hm?" The knight queried, Miriam was getting quite fed up with this mysticism but she had to agree, she didn't have a better plan. She groaned and rolled her eyes but finally admitted defeat.
"Fine."

Freda scooped up Eliana, who seemed to drift closer to waking every minute. Her eyes had been open for a while now but she still seemed... off. She hadn't spoken and simply hung on Freda's supporting arm, her feet moving by themselves as if she was sleep walking. Miriam walked on the other side of the Walker, feeling quite responsible for her at this point. She noticed they had changed direction and were approaching the forest again from the north side.
"Eh... Why are we going here?" She asked.
"I need to fetch someone. It's not far." Freda grumbled impatiently.
"Are you saying we've circled half the forest just to walk into it now?" Miriam queried, curious as to the poor decision making.
"I did not choose the direction. The Raylians did." Freda responded snappily. Miriam smartly did not push the subject further as to avoid getting punched. She looked down to Leia at her side and lent her a meaningful look. The dog barked happily.

There was a silence befitting the name of the woods as they walked into it. Eliana moreso stumbled into it in a state of blind swaying. Miriam broke it.
"This place is haunted, you know." Leia snapped her ears alert and looked around as if to push the point further. Freda grunted and shook her head some. But she did grasp the hilt of her sword tighter.
"I am not worried of such paltry rumors - No fiend could withstand the Light." The knight's gaze was locked ahead and she walked with determination only a fanatical madwoman could possess. Miriam shrugged and elected to keep an eye out for goblins or other fairy-folk just in case they proved to be real.
"If you sayeth so." Miriam said, snickering for herself. She could have sworn Ellie smiled as well but that might have just been her imagination. Another silence fell over the party as they trudged through the woods. It was gloomy and pressured. Miriam was certain Freda was getting lost and she was about to say something as Eliana suddenly and surprisingly broke the silence.
"Jack...?" She mumbled. Freda, Miriam and Leia all stopped to look at the Spirit-Walker. Waiting. The girl sighed sadly and wavered on the spot. "I'm sorry Master." Miriam looked to Freda who was the first to act, she seemed more decisive and knowledgeable on these things.
"Walker?" She queried. "Are you roused? I require your assistance." She had taken Ellie by the arm to gently shake her. "Are you awake?" Miriam pocketed her hands and yawned. Not attempting to grasp the inner functions of magic, or the even more so confusing topic; Eliana. The blonde mage narrowed her eyes upon Freda and seemed confused.
"Uh... Wh-what?" She fluttered her eyes uncertainly until her gaze shot up, Leia had acted second and pranced up to Ellie to press her paws against the girl's ruined skirt. Panting happy breaths in a bid for attention. The sight seemed to calm Eliana who grew more focused as time passed. She looked around some more and spotted Miriam. "Miriam?" She said, there seemed to be something on her mind.
"Ellie." Said Miriam and offered a quick quirk of a smile. "How are we feeling?"
"I..." The walker started, but she stopped whatever she was about to say, growing dour and silent. She looked down at the ground, or actually, she looked down at Leia.
"Miss. I am Freda. We are bringing you to our healers to halt what has infested you. This I've sworn." Freda was quick to say, ever thinking about the duty ahead. "Are you alright?" Eliana sighed and held her response inside. Miriam watched her suspiciously. She then took a breath and turned on the spot. It was about time to go the correct way again.
"This way." She said and stepped through some bushes. Leia pranced after her with a happy bark. Freda followed quickly and rose her voice in protest. Eliana waddled slowly after them both, thoughts trapped on sights the others could not comprehend, implications that spelled the doom of them all, and perhaps the whole realm.
"Duty..." The Walker said to herself and gave herself a light slap. "Save us all..."
Walter
Chapter 6: A Hero's reward


Walter woke to the sound of sloshing water. He tiredly opened his eyes and looked hazily up into the wooden ceiling above him. Confused as to why it was slowly shifting side to side in a rhythm of uneasy decision. He briefly shut his eyes again and groaned from lack of words to describe the sensation. suffering a painful surging headache as well as a sort of stretching sensation in his arm, no more ripping arrows out of it, he thought to himself while smothering his face in the raggedy pillow. He slumped over to his previous position again, too weary to get up just yet, he just lay there. His legs were numb, he guessed he had not used them for some time. With a mumble he pulled lightly on the sheet that lay over him and shifted to his side so that he could look around. He realized now the cot he was laying in was the thing that swayed, along with the movements of the ship he was undoubtedly in. The room was empty and dark, Walter assumed it was late in the evening as there was no light coming in through the window on the far side of the room. He assumed he was on the Syren, he assumed that they had done it and were finally safe and on their way. home He'd succeeded. He gave a sigh of relief at the realization. As he lay there looking out into the dark room he thought about what his victory would imply. If war was unavoidable before, it was sealed and printed now. Not only had they attacked the guards, but they had used dark magic to do so. In fact, he had used dark magic. This caused him to sigh in hollow anxiety. It did not last long however, Walter swiftly excused his actions as duty. Duty to his country, duty to his people people and to his Princess... - Olive. Walter got the sudden urge to stand, he swung his weak legs out of the cot and placed his feet on the floorboards, with a sway he stood up and began to walk forward. The room held many other cots but all of them were empty as was the rest of the room. There were no candles to light it up so Walter followed the only light he could see, which was the door at the end of a nearby staircase. Walter bumped his toe into a table as he progressed towards the light.

He opened the creaking door and looked out onto the wooden deck. His face was immediately struck with a powerful sea breeze which carried the scent and spirit of the broiling ocean. Men shouted to each other above him from the masts and rigging. The sea around them was awake and vexed, a churning sea to be sure, but it was no storm of immediate danger. Walter stepped out on the main deck and met the gaze of one of the sailors, he seemed to disregard the sorcerer and walked on past him with a coil of rope in his hands, keeping a ship moving required constant work. Walter looked up instead and saw stars in the sky. Night, then.
”Andalus!” A thundering voice cried from behind him. Walter turned and noticed a figure standing upon the wide top deck. ”Up at last, I see. Good man.” Harsley continued, he now stood leaning against the railing and looked down at Walter, the man brandished a ridiculously large hat and wore a cutlass at his belt. Behind him one of the Valentian men-at-arms held the helm. Walter rolled his eyes sarcastically inside his head and thought about how unoriginal the man was before lending him a short yet respectful wave.
”Captain.” He paused his speech for a moment, attempting to conjure something to converse about. His head still hurt and he was beginning to realize how much his arm actually hurt, in a prickling sort of way.
”Lord wanted to see you soon as you woke.” Harsley said, his eyes already having left Walter to look out across the rest of the ship and their starlit path. Walter stroked across his bandaged arm and frowned in thought. Already half a step from leaving.
”Suppose I'll go see him then – What's our course, anyway?” Walter figured he should make sure.
”West by sou' West. 'course.” Said Harsley with a proud smile. Walter smiled back politely and then excused himself with a meek nod. He did not need to ask where Tarveil would be. The Captain's lodge was the only place important enough for such a man.

”Knock, knock.” Walter muttered; he would normally just have knocked, but his knocking arm was currently bandaged and not functional so he relied on words. He expected the Lord to summon him inside and he already had a hand on the doorknob when another voice was heard instead.
”... Who's there?” A much more endearing voice than expected replied. It was inquisitive, soft yet undoubtedly drowsy, and it was exactly the voice Walter wanted to hear. He smiled in happy surprise and kept his hand on the knob.
”... Old Lady.” He said back eventually. A smirk formed on his lips as he could not stop himself. Olive must have paused to think about what this could mean as there was a silence. She was careful when she did eventually respond.
”Old lady Who?” She asked, a marvelously regal giggle was being suppressed.
”Oh! I didn't know you could yodel.” Walter said in mock surprise, relieving a short chuckle with the end of his terrible joke. He could hear Olive giggle inside and it made him smile and better yet, it made him forget about his hurting arm.
”Come in.” He heard her say and he gladly did. Opening the door and entering the cabin, it was well furnished with a work desk and a wardrobe standing out as the most significant things among the spacious room, not counting the girl who sat on the bed, she had tidied up since last Walter saw her, her hair had been braided and fell down her back neatly and she had obviously been given a finer dress to wear. It was coloured in the official Valentus crimson on its embroidery which slunk across the light brown dress in intricate runic patterns, a dress worthy of a Princess but it was weird to see her dressed in such things again. She smiled at Walter as he entered and she stood up from the bed, putting the book she had been reading aside.
”How are you?” He asked while watching her. She smiled a cheery response.
”Just fine.” Her mood altered in a second as her gaze fell on Walter's bandaged arm. ”And you?” Walter trailed the eye and looked at his own arm, he gave a fake smile to reassure her and shook his head lightly.
”Just peachy. Simply glad I made it.” He said.
”So am I.” Said Olive, beaming a smile. Walter paused for a moment to look at her, she looked back and shifted her tender smile. He felt an urge rise within him... Just a hug, there was nothing dangerous about a hug. They were friends, weren't they? She was a free person and could do-...
”Guardian Andalus.” Tarveil entered and Walter's world grew so much darker in an instant. He looked over to the Lord and gave a forced nod.
”Lord Tarveil.”
Olive turned as well and gave the stiff Lord a respectful curtsey.
”Good evening, Lord Tarveil.” She said and Walter noticed her expression had changed back to her royal mask again.
”Princess.” Said the lord and nodded for Olive before turning to Walter. ”You're awake, at last. That's good.” Walter noddded and drew a light puff of a sigh.
”Yes, I hear we're on our way.”
”So we are. We will be home within the Moon's turn.” Tarveil adjusted his coat. He hadn't changed from what he had worn in Arlston and neither had his mood, despite their victory.
”It'll be good to go home at last.” Said Walter, agreeing with the Lord. Tarveil quirked a brow however and wafted a hand.
”You shan't be going home, sorcerer.” He said as if that had been obvious from the start. Walter blinked in surprise and looked briefly to Olive who hadn't changed at all, she wore her royal mask still. Perhaps she had already heard.
”Why not?” Walter asked, he held one hand over his wounded arm as it surged painfully.
”We will drop you and Harsley on the way, of course. Lazurus isle, most likely.”
”The reason?” Walter grew irritated now. But so did Tarveil who were in no mood to answer obviously reasonable questions to simpletons such as him.
”We are at war, Andalus. You are to join the invasion force. I trust you take no issue with this?” Tarveil stuck Walter with a piercing gaze which Walter met with a cool expression. His arm hurt again.
”Of course not, sir.” Sighed Walter. Obedience came naturally to him.
”Excellent. Your actions will be brought to the King for commendation by myself personally, as shall the Princess, I ensure you - You may go now.” Tarveil nodded firmly and concluded the business with a dismissive wave of his hand. He waited for Walter to leave the room which like an obedient dog, he did. Tarveil then shut the door. Thus sealing the fate Walter Andalus, Guardian of royalty and Sorcerer of Valentus had been ordained.
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