Onmiddan Prepositionally Reinstating "Infinitive Thread Titles"

[drake]

Peachy cotton candy clouds held indigo linings in the early Corronian Sunset. The blazing orange reflection of the sleepy sun’s eye gently swayed with the waves of the western sea, as phantom streaks blurred the horizon. The discord subtly blended the sea and the sky, only showing vulnerability to those who searched the distance. The seaside sands rhythmically sighed as the emerald waters crested their foam, each taking their time to gently wash the shore. Drake couldn’t help but close his eyes as the tissue beneath his skin shimmered in delight of the ocean’s natural beauty. Wave after wave coursed through his being as he slowly inhaled the thick, humid atmosphere.

After years of searching and countless exiles, Drake had finally found the peace he sought. All he had known, loved, and valued all passed as the comet flew by. He used to enjoy the mountains, and the sounds of their tumbling boulders; however, now, each time he heard a great crash in the distance, he relived the terrifying earthquakes of Lornius’s supervolcano which shook each of the worlds’ continents. Never again could he enjoy Althanas’ beautiful snowfalls without feeling the thick, viscous film of his own bodily fluids coagulating in his lungs and choking him to death from Lornius’s dreaded ashfall. If only he had listened to his friends. If only he had gone underground, and waited out the storm. No, Drake had to “play the hero,” trying to save those whose doom had been written; each time he resurrected face down in the ash, only to choke, once more, out of existence- for months on end. Thankfully, the world would never know how long Drake might have remained there had Koli not found him in the outskirts of Raiaera. Eventually the winds cleared the ash from the lands into the seas, washing it all to the Southern Oceans. Rumors blew their way to the docks, as the sailors reported colossal heaps of Lornius’ ashen pumiced remains gathering around the outskirts of Istraloth’s ever-rampaging storm, nigh impassable without a large enough galleon (or dreadnought). No successful reports of running the blockade ever reached the continental islands.

Images of Koli, Drake’s vampire friend, and the masked archer- all of whom he held in such high esteem- flooded the principality’s mind upon the subvocalization of Althanas’s southernmost ring of ocean-bound mountains. Few had ever ventured to the tropical paradise and returned to regale the event, but both of Drake’s friends who had accompanied him on the journey had gone missing. Koli disappeared shortly after carrying the young sentient-nonliving being to safety; whereas, the last he had heard of his vampire friend, the suave blood-cursed humanoid had departed on a rescue mission during the calamity. None had heard from him since.

Acidic grief melted Drake’s deltoids, triceps, and cerebral vertebrae as he swam through the memory of his closest familiars. Along with every remembrance accompanied the realization of their leave. Drake closed his eyes, unable to hold back the boiling, bitter tears that bled from his eyes. Of all the years that had passed, the principality still felt as helpless as ever against the neverending tides of emotion which plagued him. He wept defeatedly as the bright yellow cream he saw underneath his eyelids slowly faded, and began to swirl with phosphoric whites, blues, and reds from his eyes’ hypnagogic machinations.

Drake opened his eyes to brilliant ghostly starlight shining down from Althanas’s beautiful full moon. The young principality heaved a chungus sigh, as the rush of grief-instituted hormones cascaded down his crown and through the tips of his toes. His entire existence began to pulse with his heartbeat, as his awareness encapsulated the wind’s sway upon the leaves in the nearby forest, the glint of the waves’s juxtaposing their crests’s foam, and the oscillating chirp of the local insects’ mating calls contrasted with the night’s thundering silence. After the emotional rush climaxed, Drake’s deaf spell broke with a solitary sopranic feline yowl in the distance of the forest.

Drake closed his eyes once more, singing an unheard disonance in his mind’s ear amidst the solitary cat.

“I know.” Drake whispered solemnly.

The shared pain left a bitter taste on Drake’s tongue, which burned an image of his vampire friend’s handsome face into his vision. He opened his eyes, unable to shake the ghostly image. Drake cast a halfhearted glance towards the forest he had trekked through so many times. But this time was different. This time, a sickly red aura radiated from the arboreal community. Trees looked like eyes. Eyes looked like fangs. Nothing about this scene reflected normalcy.

Drake’s uneasy trance was broken by a solitary husky figure, who solemnly moped out into the unveiled atmosphere. Paper white moonbeams illuminated her snowy fur, as the forest’s shadows darkened her gray collar, and shoey ankles. Inky black eyes bored through Drake’s soul, and guided him to the pits of his fresh despair. The principality closed his eyes, and submitted to the grieving fluffy large cat before she called out with a strange vocal sound. Though Drake's mind did not understand its communication, he understood the pain within the cry amidst the neon streaks which accompanied. Drake lost track of time as his mind raced. After what felt like hours, he opened his eyes, only to find the golden orbs of the forest’s animus inches from his.

The beautiful cat bared her needlelike teeth as Drake's fell into his worst memories, trapping himself to relive them at his mind's mercy. The principality brought forth in his head, a crystal clear image of his red-haired predecessor. Wishing for endless, dreamless sleep- as he had done countless times before- Drake closed his and sighed heavily.

Upon opening his eyes, Drake noticed the same cold and unmoved golden eyes staring back at him. Nothing had changed. Unfamiliar at first, Drake noticed a resemblance between his vampire friend and this great cat in front of him.

“Uelinuw?” Drake asked confusedly.

A stunningly energetic mental image of Drake's lost friend overpowered the memory to which he clung.

The cat sat on her rear legs and lazily looked out over the ocean, her eyes drooping sadly.

Drake inhaled defeatedly and comforted the feline, gently retaining the image of his friend.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, “I miss him too.”

After some time, the cat looked up at Drake.

Do you know where he is? She asked telepathically.

“No.” Drake said. “But I want you to help me find him.”

[drake]

Brittle leaves snapped and crunched underfoot- occasionally interrupted by the orange ghostly sound waves of breaking twigs which split little fractals into Drake’s peripherals for brief instants. Beside the rootbeds’ growls, and the hushed treetops’s reassuring each other amid the ocean’s blackberry breeze, Drake followed the great fluffy cat in silence. Now and again the principality reached out to caress the passing trunks, savoring the graham colored sandy sound waves as barking fibers left an earthy taste on his fingertips. Time flowed viscously as Drake waded through amber thickened molasses atmosphere, the sticky humidity a counterforce to be reckoned with.

The feline ally guided the principality into a vast clearing which the forest guarded from even moonlight. Tree tops glistened with milky moonlight overhead, but no direct beams dared to flow where the shadows tread upon the perennial grasses. Eva halted before a nice boulder, which Drake liked very much, and sang a dynamic tune to the night sky. Drake gazed upward to the stars, which seemed to twinkle in response to the melody. As his awareness returned to the treetops, the principality sensed a thick mental presence joining the two. He began examining the rustling leaves above him for any indication of another being. A prickling sense of uneasiness descended on the back of his neck as time grew liquid. After what seemed like long minutes of scouring, Drake noticed two otherworldly glowing green irises which stood out against the dancing natural moonlit greens ten meters above. Finding his watcher did little to quell the growing weight in Drake’s stomach. Upon locking eyes, Drake noticed the utter stillness of an etheric hunter.

“So, you followed the cat to your own dinner party,” sang a voice with a ghostly vibrato like honey on crystal glass. “How are you still alive?”

“Good evening to you too,” Drake replied to the polite treetop dweller. “I’m searching for a friend.”

“It must be quite the acquaintance, for you to have trekked into this part of the forest. I can’t tell if you smell of despair, or utter insanity.”

“Eh, two out of the pan,” Drake mumbled under his breath.

“Really?” The voice replied, having somehow heard.

A beastly man sprang from the moonlight, falling faster than any mass Drake had ever witnessed. His thundering impact with the ground shook the world beneath the principality’s feet, causing Drake to sway in lost balance. The strange humanoid form absorbed the shock completely, remaining stationary, crouched on one knee as his hands braced the ground. A silver mop of hair flowed down past his ears, and powerful muscles rippled throughout his physique. All the while, the figure’s eyes never left Drake.

“Is that all?”

[drake]

Before Drake’s very eyes, the silver haired hunter began to glow a dark indigo-blue color. The principality’s nostrils began to tingle as the space between them smelled of elongating space and autumn breeze. An eerie silence swept their surroundings as a hush overcame the nestling birds and local insects. The nonliving sentient being’s ears popped as sudden winds cascaded the treetop radius around them, ominously “shushing” that which had fallen silent already. Indigo streaks brandished their momentary existence from inky blots, directly into the green eyed etheric hunter, as blue flashes began to crackle, stinging the principality’s nose and throat.

The figure before Drake opened his mouth, baring his teeth as he released a savage hiss. Drake widened his eyes at the impressive display of power, grateful to witness this strange phenomenon.

Before Drake could ponder any further, Drake's mind expanded throughout the entire proximity. All in an instant, the top of his head felt itchy while his soles felt icy. The heavens frowned down with a great scowl through the swirling clouds, as the ground below remained completely unphased A blinding flash descended from above, illuminating the environment's colors past their neon silhouettes, as a deafening void thundered through the principality's ears. A shockwave slapped the being’s face as he felt like his eyes would burst. Stabbing, oscillating pain stiffened Drake’s entire body into the “complete tetany” position as intense amounts of energy bolted through his being. His vision went completely dark as his senses scattered before clouding up. Invisible lines from higher dimensions and advanced spectra revealed themselves to the principality’s perception- lines akin to those bounding schematics and designs twisted and overlapped each other as the skin on his face felt like cold air was puffing up a balloon. The equilibrium provided by Drake’s inner ears began rotating in synchronicity with the swirling, overlapping secret lines beneath and above his normal vision.

And then Drake remembered to breathe.

As he took a deep breath of the now freezing evening atmosphere, his mind abandoned all memory of the unseen. Just as quickly as the beautiful new world revealed itself to him, so did it vanish- leaving another chasm in Drake's memory.

The principality would have opened his eyes, had he ever closed them; rather, the neon and whispering illuminations flooded with color from the visible plane, which overpowered the delicate yet ever-present realm which Drake had just visited. Bright moonlight danced on the bell pepper-green leaves as they began to sway rhythmically once more in the evening breeze. Tension in the principality’s stiffened muscles melted away, and he felt the spongy forest floor pressing upon his back from beneath the soft bed of grasses.

“I’ve never tasted your kind before,” came the silky voice akin to a Short Mart’s. “And I’m not sure that I’d like to, seeing what.. existence, you live.”

A soprano yowl broke the confusion, as the great cat’s telepathic voice connected the three nonliving sentient beings in a common thread of communication.

I had to make sure that he was who he said he was, the cat interjected. W23yd3, this is Drake. He was a very close friend of our departed, and he wants us to help find him. Perhaps we can find peace.

“Wait, this is an Ally!?” W23yd3 responded with a scathing curse under his breath, "Why didn’t you say something Sooner, Uelinuw!?”

Drake winced at the telepathic force the vampire used to emphasize his point. He opened his mouth to speak, but his voice refused to strike any noise.

Will my voice ever return? Drake asked with his mind.

“And he lives!” W23yd3 exclaimed.

You thought I was dead!? Drake hissed telepathically.

“Well, I heard your heart beating, and I saw you breathing, so, I thought you were unconscious.”

Relax The telepathic cat chided, You passed the test. And the sooner that you relax, the sooner your senses and motor control will return.

“Right,” W23yd3 said flatly, “Sorry about that.. Here, let me make you some soup. I know soup was a time old favorite which nearly became tradition with our mutual friend.”

[drake]

Drake rested for the better part of the evening through a brief, dreamless sleep, until a scent’s sounding of deep string instruments amidst seaside gusts returned him to the waking world.

Golden speckles of salty sulfur odors behind shimmering cherry-pine flecks of seasoned tomatoes’ scents filled the clearing. Smoky odors of charcoal, denatured by those ever elusive waves of heat which seemed to ‘distort’ the space, stretched and energized the inside of the vertebrae behind Drake’s heart. A magnetic prickling subtly tingled beneath his tongue as he felt the odors feed his soul. Drake took a deep inhale of the wonderful aromas and sat upright slowly. His headache lessened and feelings of sickness diminished compared to the previous night, he hoped that food would help to cure his ailments.

“Ah, hello. Just in time,” W23yd3 said, handing the principality a wooden bowl, crafted from seaside reeds in recent years.

“How long was I out?” Drake asked, rubbing the back of his head with his free hand and blinking the sleep out of his eyes.

“It’s almost The moon is setting, so, four or five hours?” W23yd3 replied.

“Not too long until sunrise,” Drake mused concernedly.

“We have plenty of time,” the infant mortal responded. “The local farmers and I have an arrangement, after you eat we can head to my shanty hovel.”

“You call it that,” Drake blinked, “And you live there?”

W23yd3 shrugged. “I travel often. What did you expect, some mansion?”

“Whatever,” Drake said as they enjoyed their soup. “So, tell me about what our mutual friend was doing during the beginning of Ashfall.”

“Well,” W23yd3 began, “He needed to rescue a great serpent from certain doom- a grand, ancient old fellow. But he had a temper, and a couple of thousand years ago he rampaged around breathing fire or something. I don’t know, a massive lizard can’t startle a few villages without being slain?”

Drake stared at W23yd3 in disbelief of the perspective. The principality had heard tales of the devastation of which W23yd3 spoke. A great unnamed amphibious deity, born before the reign of the stars. He had been deliberately forgotten by most of civilization as to weaken his influence on conscious archetypes. Either way, perhaps there existed means to reason with this forgotten amphibian.

“Anyway, legend has it that mighty heroes kept slaying him, only for him to always rise the next day. So they captured and exiled him to an underground cavern beneath seaside cliffs. There they imprisoned him with a magical glass to wait out time and remain forgotten.” W23yd3 said.

“Our council knew that he was misunderstood, see. Well we heard rumors of strange volcanic glass that matched the description of what the lord had been trapped with.” The infant mortal continued. “The glass had power to control similar material of its kind- molding it like thick syrups.”

“Wow,” Drake mused. “Syrup.”

He tried to pronounce it in the same strange way that W23yd3 did.

“I always say ‘Syrup.’ Syrup. Huh, whatever,” Drake said. “Lornius. As far as I know it’s nearly impossible to ge-”

“By the temperate climate of Corrone, what in the world is that!?” Drake exclaimed frightfully, pointing to a shadowy figure creeping up on the campfire.

A silhouette crept into the light of W23yd3’s cooking fire, an extremely large ant with fiery eyes appeared shocked upon being discovered. He must have been at least two feet long; before Drake could react, the ant charged the principality with shocking speed. Drake felt a strange exoskeletal limb grab his foot and the energy of several horses all densely packed into this massive, heavy ant. The once comforting clearing floor began to feel like sandpaper as the ant dragged him across the grass towards a nearby tree. Drake’s soup launched off into an unknown position, but he felt the burning liquid sear his forearm as a final farewell.

Suddenly an ominous clicking filled Drake’s mind. It clicked faster and slower, beginning to mimic language.

/ H I S S \ it said.

“Wooooooah!” Drake shouted as the massive ant ascended the tree.

/S T R A N G E R\ The noise clicked repeatedly as he proceeded to shake Drake by his ankle, seven meters high in the tree.

“What. In. The. World.” Drake stammered in between attacks, bewildered at the unfolding scene.

“Mountain, he is an ally!” W23yd3 boomed from below.

The ant stopped violently shaking Drake, and began to stare at him with his tomato colored eyes amidst the sandy bark of the vertical grooves behind. The entire tree seemed to sway as Drake’s head slowly mimicked a pendulum’s movement from the dangling by his ankle.

“What,” Drake sighed disappointedly with folded arms. “What did that accomplish? Why is your first instinct always to attack me?”

The ant descended the tree and set him on the ground. Drake remained in the prone position for a time to prevent himself from being sick.

“Sorry about him, he gets a little jumpy around new people,” W23yd3 said nervously, staring down at the principality. "Drake, this is Mountain Ant. Mountain Ant, this is Drake."

"Nice," Drake sighed heavily, "it's nice to meet you."

“Well,” W23yd3 continued. “Now that everybody is here, let’s get to the hovel before the sun rises.”


----


The thick layered curtains obscured the golden morning rays, allowing only outlines to delineate wooden furniture from oversized insect, feline, and humanoid. Drake felt around, giving his eyes time to adjust, and seated himself in a nearby simple chair. He set his new bowl of soup on the small wooden table in front of him. It wouldn’t take long to finish.

“Would you like some tea?” W23yd3 asked.

“Sure,” Drake responded. “So, if you don’t mind my asking, why haven’t you found our mutual friend yourself?”

“I know that he went to Lornius, but I haven’t known anything about where he went or who he traveled with.” The etheric hunter replied as he lit the fireplace, illuminating the abundantly placed maroon tapestries which covered both the wooden walls and the windows. Upwards, W23yd3 had painted and gouged the tall ceiling to represent the stars and shadows in the night sky. The celestial alignments looked like their positions during some evening in the late summer. In the corner where two walls met, and the double plated panel met the gable’s joist, the hunter had painted a full moon. Crystalline glass, perfectly intact in beautiful unique shapes unrecognizable to Drake, shone light across the room from the fire. W23yd3 had mounted them to the barriers such that they reflected a single beam across the room into a flickering circular broken pattern on the chimney.

Drake’s eyes relaxed as the tapestries began to shimmer in synchronicity with the fire. Forests, animals, seas and mountains, W23yd3 had it all hanging around the room depicting a cornucopia of natural settings. Golden nectary sunrises blended with the ice-cream coned peaks of the familiar twilight mountains with a deep swirling sound which brought chills about the principality. The colors flowed from deep mellow sounds to relaxing hums as the fibers changed into the shades of poplar tree greens which vines shrouded before flowing across the ground. Indigos and familiar spacious tickles of purple peeked through the fruit trees and vines, adjacent the poplar tapestry, from ripe looking vegetables and lush fruit. A rich bluejay-blue sky from expertly dyed threads brought serenity and relief from the day’s ailments to Drake. Across the room, windy tapestries brought songs of homesickness over an evening sea. Stars, stitched into the scene, from Corrone’s Western sky during a descending winter’s eve whispered hope as rich golden thread adorned the sea’s crests.

A back door to the structure sank a step down below the raised kitchen area. To the left of the fireplace, a ladder led to an exterior loft. Adjacent the ladder was a door to some storage area of the hovel. To the right of the fireplace towered a vertical padded Ulder box, nestled in the corner of the hovel.

“You have a beautiful home.” Drake said, admiring the scenes.

“Thank you,” W23yd3 said, motioning to the tapestries. “I’ve picked these up over the years. Though, no new additions since ashfall. I prefer to see these places while traveling, but I like being reminded of them when I can’t be there.”

A rusty kettle hanging over the fire which had already begun to spout steam, started to whistle and W23yd3 no sooner took his cue. He balanced the instrument on the flat of a long pointed fingernail with masterful precision, as he removed cups from a cabinet that Drake hadn’t noticed before simultaneously with the other hand. Swiftly he filled them and seated himself at the table himself, hanging his kettle from a hook on one of the few untapestried wall spaces within arm’s reach.

“Well,” Drake said, “I’ve heard most news from the docks. Nearly all shipping companies halted intercontinental voyages during the first few weeks of the calamity. The only company that did continue- a union of private freight captains that had deep ties with mining.”

“Oh,” W23yd3 said, beginning to understand. “The obsidian mines.”

“I’ve heard about those. Aren’t they the reason that passage is still forbidden to the Lornius Crater Sea?” Drake asked. “I’ve never seen obsidian, but I hear that the Markson Company still mines it under protection of the existing remnants of civilization.”

“Nearly all intercontinental passage is still forbidden,” W23yd3 said wistfully. “I don’t know what happened to the privateers, but I do know that after Ashfall, when the farmers began exporting to the Raiaeran subcontinent again, the world’s Navies began escorting their trade. This favored a select few, who unified into the current cargo companies.”

The tea had steeped long enough, and Drake enjoyed the spicy flavor which contrasted with milky ground flower petal texture. It followed the soily salty flavored soup well.

“I heard of this small-town merchant, before ashfall he owned and traded with a fleet of cargo ships to the outlands.” Drake said, looking into the embers at the fire’s base. “He was able to go back last year by getting something called a ‘Passage.’”

“Hmm,” W23yd3 thought out loud, “I know that the Viceroy’s advisors have sought to reopen local trade with Scara Brae, and they’re confident in eventually sending patrols. They primarily want their courrier networks restoed.”

“I hope that came from a credible source,” Drake mused.

/You would be surprised what the ants overhear\ Mountain Ant crackled.

Drake set down his tea, bewilderedly blinking off his surprise. “Okay, why have they not proceeded on this sooner?”

W23yd3 sighed. “They’ve tried, but the existing cargo companies are preoccupied with intercontinental trade. Most of the local fleets turned to fishing and coastal shipping, and they aren’t keen on leaving their families for much longer than a few moon cycles.”

Drake had noticed how mental sicknesses continued to plague the catastrophe’s survivors. Most had lost their youth and vitality, capable of incredible feats of intellect but needing lengthy intermittent rest periods. Many, however, had grown strong and kept their peers sane enough to continue. Recently, some parts of the world began to value life again, and revived their sacred traditions in harmony with their environments. The calamities encouraged many to value the continuity of their lineage.

The principality’s mind raced as strange sudden visions of colossal cliff lines with great seas on either side flooded into his mind’s eye. Deep fissures into the layered stone filled at high tide, and drained at low tide. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes and yawned.

“Well, the east Corronian merchant has been nicknamed ‘The Voyag of Corrone’ among the local docks,” Drake said tiredly, trying to remember what he was saying. “Before his 'Passage,' he shipped cargo around the entire coast. He raised a deep sea fishing fleet, and now he ships to the east again.”

“What would make it worth his while?” W23yd3 mumbled to himself.

“I know he has been wanting to raise a defense force with some new technology,” Drake said. “Some magic allows certain metals to float. It could change the way we understand seacraft. The books were removed from the library before I could finish them.”

“News on the comings and goings of Lornius has been difficult to come by as well,” W23yd3 replied.

“I do know a captain who sails in the west, he trades with the companies of New Beinost.” Drake said after a minute. “He used to trade with the outlands. This captain hails from the same hometown as the Voyag.”

“Perhaps they know each other,” W23yd3 muttered pensively.

“Well, maybe there’s a way we can do more investigating on the Obsidian Mines.” Drake said.

“If a sudden need for a new obsidian shipping partner arises,” W23yd3 mused, “Perhaps the network can be influenced to contract a private trading service. It would take a few months to plan.”

“Probably a few months longer for the seafaring technology to debut,” Drake continued, “But the Voyag is eager to extend his routes again. I think he has these future ships logistically prepared.”

“And somebody very important in Corrone wants networks restored with Scara Brae,” W23yd3 finished. “I don’t know why, but I’m sure that I can find out.”

“Well,” Drake yawned. “It’s a start.”

“Yes," W23yd3 said, collecting their expired dishes. He deposited them in a jumpy basin whose alarmed dishy clang startled Drake with shadowy red spirals from the corner of his eye. Above the unsuspecting basin, the etheric hunter withdrew a wicked beeswax tallow from the unassuming cabinet and handed it to the principality.

“Here, in case you need light. Just don’t burn the down the damned hovel. There is a bed in the loft. I will have Mountain Ant do some digging, we didn’t look very thoroughly last time and our search standards were different.”

“If we can forge a link between the obsidian mines, the captain, and the Voyag, we might secure passage to Lornius.” Drake said, taking the candle with a customary utterance of gratitude. “See if Mountain Ant can figure out some of the first places where the Markson Company mined obsidian.”

W23yd3 nodded.

“Where is he now, by the way?” Drake asked curiously.

“Oh he is probably far off somewhere in his lair.” W23yd3 said. “He made tunnels underneath most of the continent, so, who knows. He usually returns by sunset.”

“This world just keeps surprising me.” Drake ended.

“Sleep well.” W23yd3 bode sinisterly, with a wicked grin.

"Woah, dude. Don't be creepy."

"Sorry."

[drake]

Drake spent the next several weeks returning North to the Eastern Corronian port city of Mneumnopolis.

W23yd3 worked in secret with Mountain Ant to deduce the history of the world’s mining companies. The etheric hunter also sent a message through the Western intercontinental fleet requesting the esteemed captain’s return schedule. W23yd3 then spread news amongst Radasanthian nobility about the private fleet owner’s success, and his nickname “The Voyag.”

Trekking north through the plains of Yarborough always brought Drake a deep fulfillment and satisfaction. The fertile coastal farmlands stretched for leagues inland, adorning the continent’s edge in a beautiful leafy, sandy checkered dress pattern. Farther inland, tall thick grasses grew up to three meters tall. Prairie lions and other vicious predators made the grasses their home, and few layperson citizens had the mettle to survive the passage.

Though he could handle himself in the tall grasses, Drake preferred to follow the edge of the farmlands, however, where the seas kissed the land. Some hours, Drake had quenching sandy beaches to admire as he walked, whereas during others he toed the edge of an oceanside cliff. Fortunately, Drake had made this journey several times, and knew how far to walk so that he could set up camp on the beaches for the evenings.

Several days into his journey, Drake awoke to the gentle hum of a Corronian sunrise. The seaside breeze pleasantly stretched his throat and flowed through his chest, nourishing his mind. To the North, Port Gisela peeked through the seaside haze to greet the principality. Drake still had half of a day’s journey, but he was eager to rest on a mattress, and replenish his supplies before continuing on the next leg of the journey.

A heron called from above with her “whump, whump” sounds.

Drake smiled at the good omen, before packing up his camp to continue on.

[drake]

The oceanside foot trail soon merged with the major wagon roads, which proved wide enough to comfortably accommodate eight oxen. For centuries, the world widely recognized Gisela as the host of the beloved Gisela Open tournaments. To the east the ocean stretched out into the horizon until it melted into the baby blue sky. Its long reaching waves repeatedly crashed against the fickle shoreline, as waterfowl split the breeze with their cries. In every other direction, dull tall grasses sprouted from the countryside, shaded by the great overcast sky. Far beyond the port, at least thirty kilometers beyond the city’s unwalled limits, the rocky shoreside sprouted out into a great peninsula which doubled back towards the town. The peninsula held several acres worth of forested breadth, and hid beautiful secluded beaches on its oceanside shores. Approximately two miles northeast of Port Gisela’s harbor, the strip of land reached its end at Wyron’s Point.

During tournament years, large masted sailing vessels sat at anchor in the bay North of the port for as far as the eye could see. The grasslands surrounding the open city’s borders overflowed with the tents, campfires and training camps of the visiting warriors. Wagon trains ran during the day and all throughout the night, delivering caravans filled to the brim with meats, and bursting with fresh produce- all sourced from the local countryside. The sounds of jolly reminiscing and hearty laughter over food and drink clashed with the furious cries of those testing their mettle on the training fields. During the tournament, any traveler saw Port Gisela’s glow off the horizon for tens of miles away as a beacon of relief from their weary travels. Here they could find rest, refreshment, and even moreso- the opportunity to join a potentially legendary army, and earn a spot in history’s memory.

As Drake approached the two great square-based granite pillars which marked the city rurals’ limits, he noticed a sudden movement from the corner of his eye. Looking to the west, he saw a figure’s upper body bounding above the wafery tips of the tall grass. Shortly after appearing, the figure vanished in the planes only to reappear in the same manner repeatedly.

“There’s only one warrior I know who jumps like that,” Drake muttered to himself as the figure approached the stone landmark by which the principality stood.

Soon, the figure differentiated herself as a tall muscular woman with brunette hair fastened back, who leapt from the grasses and onto the main road. She knelt on the ground with one hand on her knee and the other palm flat on the ground, breathing heavily as she recovered her stamina from the world. Her short angular face relaxed, expressionless as her pink angular nose ran from exertion. Fatigued eyelids partially obscured her serenely blazing grey eyes.

“Umaiana?” Drake asked from next to the pillar, approximately two meters away from the fatigued warrior.

“OH GODS!” She overreacted, standing up and instinctively raising her fists, “Don’t mess with me, I’ll turn you into swiss cheese!”

She reached for a weapon to throw while sweeping her horizon until her gaze locked on to Drake’s. Her quenching, wispy irises reached into Drakes chest and squeezed his heart, making him feel the distinct urge to cough, shudder, and chuckle at the same time.

“Drake?” She recognized hesitantly.

A sudden gale tugged loose some hair at the west side of her crown, which temporarily obscured her pupils before dancing in front of her forehead. Grasses bent low in the open planes as Yarborough’s sudden evening winds dismounted from the planes and barreled towards the ocean. The monumental granite pillar stood firm and steadfast, cutting a pocket of stillness for Drake amidst the currents of changing pressure. Upon reaching Umaiana, however, the winds slowed before enveloping her in a gentle embrace. Though the stalks bowed under the gale’s majesty, Umaiana’s features melded gently, dancing harmoniously among nature as her adored companion.

Drake stood still in wonder upon seeing a long lost friend in such a spectacular scene.

“It is you,” She said with a great smile, her snowy pearlescent geometric teeth contrasting with the suddenly dingy surroundings. “I’d remember those green eyes anywhere.”

“Wow, are you still chewing on charcoal?” Drake asked.

Her expression instantly turned flat.

“Fifteen years, a comet and ashfall,” She said, “And that’s the first thing that you ask me?”

“Sorry,” Drake said, flushing red and diverting his gaze. “You just have the whitest teeth that I have seen since Lornius exploded.”

She hesitated.

“Yes. Every night.”

Drake smiled, feeling a bit more comfortable.

“Well, it’s nice to know that some things never change.” He said.

“Yeah, you don’t look any different at all. Do you age?”

“Honestly?” Drake asked, “I can’t remember.”

They both laughed.

“Where are the others?” Drake asked.

“Oh, some over there, others are here. I’m sure I can round a few of them up on short notice.” Umaiana said. “Why don’t we go to The Maple Leaf for a repast? Some of the others drop by that hangout from time to time.”

“That sounds wonderful.” Drake responded. “I’ve been waiting a long time to catch up.”

The two set off through the city rurals towards the port.

[tkhyAzurchlorovirgo168]

The bright, flowing face of the full Althanian Moon volleyed cold, mistily reflected starlight through the edge of the world’s upper atmosphere in a steady endless barrage. Very few things existed that actually brought some kind of feeling, or sensation to Bassal; however, witnessing these lightwaves’ entries into the upper reaches of the world made her calm. The world barely shivered in silence, and time slowed down- watching the transition of the moonlight’s travel made Bassal feel as though bubbles were comfortably popping all throughout her energetic signature. As the reflected starlight passed through the undifferentiated medium of cosmic background on its way to Althanas, it condensed back into the atmosphere- rematerializing itself in the same orientation as it left the star’s atmosphere from whence it came. The raining streams of moonlight entered the atmosphere with a tiny flash- a phantom puff of spark- detectable to Bassal, but unnoticed by any other entity until now.

She had exuded an incredible amount of energy while protecting that blonde haired entity on his journey to one of the great stone fields that the two-legged people lived in. So many rogue and errant time threads to channel away- countless anti-time objects to deflect, and, of course, the usual hostile environmental factors. He became the familiar of some warrior, which gave Bassal some much needed relief. She enjoyed the sunset before basking in the moon fizzles. Down below, there was another important two-legged person on whom she needed to check.

Before swooping in on Gisela, Bassal descended to the Outter-West Dheathainian sea in search of a friendly One-Tailed-Two-Tonned-Mostly-Spectral person. The distortion of energy which Bassal’s aura carried seemed to freeze the atmosphere in a ten-mile radiused sphere. The surrounding weathers winds and waters treated Bassal’s aura as if it were a solid, impenetrable void, but the elements improbable enough to slowly pass through- mimicking newtonian fluids- found an unwavering 67 degree Fahrenheit environment about the entire sphere of signature. The nonliving sentient being felt around through the sea in search of the faithful escort.

Suddenly, a majestic geyser of water burst high in the air in the near distance, signaling that Bassal had almost found her friend. Excitedly, Bassal made contact and asked the whale friend how things had gone. He explained to her in his own special way that he had followed the transport ship from afar without their knowing, and that he was grateful to share of their safe passage. Bassal thanked him profusely and told him that she saw an approaching meteor shower that would be visible from the outskirts of the Istralothian storm- just north of the Southern Circle. If he and his family left soon, they could swim there in time to enjoy the storm’s seasonal algaes during the day. At night, they could watch the meteors shower the world for several weeks. Bassal ensured that the meteors would burn completely long before impacting with the world’s surface- but they would burn brightly enough for her one-tailed friends to enjoy them from their vantage point.

After a fond farewell, Bassal reached Port Gisela at the speed of thought. Her aura blasted through the thick, matted sheets of stagnant energy like a blazing inferno drives away the suffocating shadows of a solitary windowless enclosure. Bassal had no idea what kind of energy lingered previously- but it mattered not, because absolutely nothing lingered in the wake of her intensity.

---

With the dry dock finally underfoot, Ceidar let out a sigh of relief. Sailing always made him uneasy. The fortuitous tradewinds brought a familiar sparkie tinge to the tip of his nose as the salty mist brushed Ceidar’s face. No matter how fared the journey, Gisela’s warm outer limits awaited all the same. The engineer most looked forward to feeling the solid, unwavering coast beneath his shoulders. Not far ahead, where the dock met the cobbled city, awaited his guide.

Swiftly they would verify each others’ identities before following a winding and complicated route to their dining venue. Only after a sequence of routine conversations, would Ceidar reveal his news about the Dheathainian Guildmaster. Upon seeing the face of his guide, however, all inhibitions fled for a split moment.

“Mai?” Ceidar called out.

“I told you to stop calling me that,” Her voice sang back overtop of the wind’s whooo sound.

“Uma then,” Ceidar remembered.

“That’s the one.”

“How did you get involved with guild business?” He shot.

“Not here,” she retorted. “We have to change the location tonight- complications arose.”

Ceidar skeptically rose an eyebrow.

“Do you remember Drake, the prospective contact from the tournament army that we mustered all of those years ago?” She asked.

Ceidar shook his head slowly, perusing his memory. “I can hardly remember anything before that day when I fell asleep in the migrating mountain’s library. All I know is that when I woke up, I knew who I was, and I found out that everybody I loved was gone.”

Uma sighed. “Yeah, most people alive today have some kind of wake-up experience like that. Few of the first-wave survivors are even left.”

They pondered in somber silence for several moments, neither knowing what to say.

“Well, it seems that the Obsidian Wave lives on, complicating our lives in ways we don’t understand.” Ceidar said.

“Let’s go meet Drake. He is waiting at The Maple Leaf.”

“Nice,” Ceidar said as they started off, “I love their tomato pie- they never add plant gelatin- only fruit, herbs and salts.”

Bassal followed in the mist above the drainage canals.