The Call of Something More

Strictly speaking, it wasn’t against any form of rule for the denizens of the Shadowlands to leave their respective covens territory, just...unusual. Many of them lost their powers when leaving their respective zones of influence, beyond the denizens of Maldraxus that is. It was expected that one should never find themselves with the time to wander, the great unspoken law known by all and spoken by none. You did not ask questions, you did not second guess the word of the Council of Death, you did not wander beyond The Path. Sometimes, however, every couple millennium or so when the necessity of their duties required as much, this rule was broken. The nature of Revendreth required that they call upon the other covens to deliver repentant souls unto a new afterlife. Devos herself had made such trips, now and again delivering souls to their new home, and every time she could but stare in wonder at the realms so very different from her own.

Ardenweald was probably her favourite of the three beyond Bastion. To spite being oh so different from her home in the afterlife, it invoked the same moral goodness that invigorated her every time she returned to the Archons light. Its forests embracing her with a warmth not found among the stone structures and barren wastelands of Revendreth or Maldraxus. It called to her in a way she had not felt since her embracement of The Path eons before; her soul shifting to its harmony so easily that it should have scared her, offered her pause, but instead made her wish for nothing more than to fall into its eternal song. 

The soul in her hands squirmed as they crossed through the gateway and into the halls of Oribos, its change in behaviour pulling Devos from her thoughts. She watched as the last wisps of Revendreths influence faded, the souls glow fully settling into soft blue as the last red markers of the land of the repentant left it. Its violent squirming and twisting settling down into little more than a soft pulse. Yet even in this more docile state, there was little doubt about the power it contained. In Revendreth it had thrashed and stormed like a wild beast, its form as red and volatile as any fire she could remember. She had almost thought herself there to deliver it to the Maw, that is until one of the Venthyr had instructed her to take it Ardenweald. 

A piece of her had recoiled at the time, a small thing buried deep within her being twisting uncomfortably at the thought of bringing such a destructive force into the peaceful woods of the night fae. A fierce protectiveness of the Eternal Forest rising from seemingly nowhere as her temper flared. Yet The Path proved true, a few deep breaths and the foreign feelings settled themselves, the Venthyr offering little more than a raised brow as it handed her the soul. 

A wondrous forest spread all around her, filled with green trees and red bushes, the light of Elune shining down upon her as she stood at attention...

“You seem heavy with thought, an unusual sight for most Kyrian.” A voice said from behind her, the scent of pine and moss floating into her nose.

“We are beyond such things.” She responded before turning to face the Night Fae.

Ara’lon had not changed since the last time Devos had seen him, not that she expected him to. He stood a good foot shorter than her at the top of his head, but the four horns atop him more than made up the difference. Their knifepoint forms standing like daggers as they jutted up into the air. Beside them his ears reminded her of a dog, twitching with every noise that filtered past them. A long mane of black hair flowed down the sides and back of his head to drape gracefully off the front and side of his slim shoulders. The ends of it lay against alabaster skin that quickly gave way to fur and hooves as his more animalistic traits made themselves known. 

“I meant no offence.” He told her as he raised his hands in a placating motion. “It was no more than an observation. Often when I meet the Kyriam during these sorts of duties they are as reserved and emotionless as stone. It is refreshing to meet one who seems to hold some shred of emotion.”

She frowned at that, her lips pursing and eyes narrowing. He hadn’t meant it to be an insult but an insult it was nonetheless. 

“The Kyrian are not without emotion. We are simply taught to control it, unlike you wild folk.”

It was his turn to frown now, his smirk falling at her thinly veiled insult. 

“I would hardly call repression control. Your Archon would have you believe that The Path makes you stronger, hardening your heart to steel so as to better carry out your duties, but it is more like glass. An illusion of strength so easily shattered under the right pressure.”

Devos growled then, her hand moving to grasp the handle of her sword where it sat at her side as her feet slid into a battle position. 

“And who are you then to challenge the wisdom of the Archon?” She all but snarled out at him. “To question that which is taught to us by none other than a member of the Council?” 

He frowned at her for a moment, his brown eyes moving up and down her frame as his head tilted slightly to the right. His claws moving slightly lower on his dream weaver staff as he leant on it, the center of its top pulsing slightly. For a brief moment, as their eyes met, she felt as though her soul were being judged once more. Her whole body humming as the power within his staff seemed to connect with something deep within her. That same seed as before blossomed in the presence of such raw nature magic. 

She was in a grove, green trees and red bushes surrounding the clearing yet not encroaching beyond the border. She was standing in a line of soldiers, ten of them in total, shoulder to shoulder along the diameter of a great ring of moss-covered stones. Her shoulders were square and back straight, her heels locked behind her, hands flat against the sides of her thighs as a commanding officer walked down the line. A small group of druids behind him carrying a set of armour resplendent armour. 

It was a ceremony, of that she was certain, yet many of the details eluded her. She knew this moment had been important to her, important to everyone present, she had to remember...It felt wrong that she could not, she was missing key information, things she shouldknow! 

“You have all been chosen, the greatest defenders our people have to offer.” The officer shouted at them, a single moon crescent blade clutched in his left hand and raised above his head. “Ten of you stand before me, but by the end of the trials only one shall remain to join the Ellemayne Knights.” She clung to every word like a lifeline, desperately hoping that they might trigger some kind of revelation.

None came.

Instead, pressure began to build inside her skull, building and building the more she watched. Like a knife twisting in a wound, digging further and further into the depths of her mind. This had been her life, her story, the reason for her existence! 

Around her a sharp blue light began to gather, growing harsher the further she pushed. Yet she was completely oblivious to it, her focus entirely on discovering more of her memories. Yet the more she pushed the more the light seemed to push back. Slowly it began to creep along the ground, consuming and erasing all it came into contact with. Eventually, she noticed it but by that point, it was too late. With a bright flash of pale blue light, the pressure was gone, along with the memory. 

With a snap, Devos came back to herself. Oribos materializing around her as its mighty halls rose from the shattered remains of her dream/memory. She staggered back slightly at first, her hand falling from where it had been hovering a few scant inches away from the staff as she brought both up to clutch at her head. Her eyes widened as she struggled to come to terms with what she had just experienced. 

She hadn't noticed, but the entirety of Orobos had stopped around her. All the scribes, prophets, and travellers froze in place, all of them staring at her and Ara’lon. Beneath her, the stones had begun to crack like glass, a spider web of green and blue lay lines spreading out from the points where her feet touched the ground. Some as wide as swords ran up the pillars while a single scribe had cast an arcane shield around the ancient one technology the cracks had threatened to climb. Without realizing it she had dropped the soul in her charge, its glowing shell cracked as her area of influence spread over it.

Slowly though, as she came back to herself, they began to recede. The power flowing back into her soul as the panic within her began to dissipate. Across from her, the staff began to dim, to hum of a harmony she had not known herself to possess slowly fading away, leaving that deep seed within her somehow...empty. All around them the various denizens of Oribos began to go back to their duties as though nothing had happened, the gentle murmur of the great halls returning as the machine of death returned to normal.

“Interesting…” Ara’lon muttered as he grasped the soul in his hands and pulled it from the ground.

He looked over her once more, watching as the green tinge that had slowly been making its way up her leg began to retreat back down. 

“What…what was that?” She asked him dazedly before shaking her head once last time and raising her eyes to glare him down. “What did you do to me?!” 

“I do not know.” He responded after a moment's pause. 

“You don’t know?” She echoed dryly. “How can you not know?! It was your magic that did it.”

He clearly didn't appreciate her tone, his eyes narrowing as a frown settled across his lips. His grip on his staff tightening as he rose to his full height, nearly matching her own as his long goat legs fully extended. She did not back down though, making sure to maintain eye contact the entire time. 

Their little staring contests lasted for nearly ten minutes before the Night Fae finally broke it off. His whole body suddenly spinning around and throwing her off balance in response. 

“Come.” He told her. “The Bells of the Arbiter will ring soon, we must deliver the soul to Ardenweald if you are to return to your duties in time.” 

She watched him walk towards the Ardenweald gate for a moment. A part of her told her she should just return to Bastion, she had received the soul from Revendreth and Ara’lon would make sure it got to Ardenweald. Her duty here was complete and many more awaited her in Bastion. There were ascended to train, Kyrian to guide, and as her companion had stated there would soon be a fresh host of souls to carry to the afterlife. Her duties as a Paragon were endless and The Path demanded she return to them without question. 

Yet...there was clearly more going on here she did not understand. Questions that demanded answers, mysteries that reached down to the very core and depth of what the Shadowlands truly was. If she returned to Bastion there was a good chance she would never find the answers she craved…

She looked over her shoulder, her eyes moving across the gates of Bastion. Gleaming and white, the blue light of the Archon shining through into the grey halls of Oribos. A few Kyrian were standing before it, their backs straight, gold halberds glowing with purifying blue light. They said nothing, showed nothing, their armour like nothing more than decorations for statues. 

She turned back to face Ara’lon. he was standing beside the gates to Ardenwealed, a gentle smile on his face as he whispered to the soul sitting on his shoulder. Beside him, the wild magic of Ardenwealed flowed openly around and through the portal. The green druidic life force flowing down the vines that wrapped around the pillars. The same hum as before radiating from it, although to a much weaker degree than she had felt mere moments ago. She breathed in and the portal seemed to breathe with her, a warm feeling filling her as her body relaxed. 

It was hardly much of a choice in the end. 

Ara’lon raised a brow as she approached but didn’t comment as she moved to stand before the portal.

“It shouldn’t take us much time.” He said as he stepped up beside her. “Once I have delivered him to his seed within my grove you shall be free to return to your Path.” 

She didn’t answer; instead, she took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and stepped into the swirling green portal. The energy coalesced around her and for a moment all she could see was vibrant green as her soul, and those of her companions were transported to the wildlands. There was no real way to describe it, the process of becoming energy and then reforming at your destination; at best it felt like pins poking against every inch of your skin, at worst it was as though you had been tossed into the heart of the sun. For her, it had always been nothing more than a disconcerting moment of non-existence, a brief blink in which she knew nothing and felt nothing.

Travelling to Ardenwealed was different. It didn’t feel like a return to obligation but a new beginning of chapter she didn't know existed. 

She expected to arrive at some random point within the network closest to their destination, instead (as her body reformed at the mouth of the gateway) she was greeted with the sight of the mighty dream tree. Almost immediately a wave of power washed over her as she took in the beauty and magnificence of nature. 

A wide clearing existed around the base of the mighty tree. Various Night Fae and soul warriors mingling as they went about their duties. Some carried great baskets of Anima infused berries they were picking from the trees while others lowered them to the roots of the soul seeds to nourish them. Many looked like Ara’lon, horned Night Fae with goat legs and claws, while others took the forms of blue spirit animals wandering into and out of the great forest before them.  

“Welcome to Ardenweald.” Ara’lon said as he materialized beside her. “The great forest beyond.” 

“It is beautiful.” She breathed, her eyes manic as they moved to take in everything they could. 

He chuckled at her reaction before moving forward, gently wrapping a hand around her wrist to pull her forward with him. They walked slowly, affording Devos the time to truly absorb the world around them, whether Ara’lon was doing it on purpose for her benefit or simply taking his time mattered little. Her captivation was complete, all thoughts of The Path forgotten in her wonder. 

She lost track of time as they slowly made their way around the base of the great tree. Occasionally her guide would stop to converse with a fellow Night Fae or offer fruit to a nearby seed. She watched in all with rapt attention, her eyes marking every greeting and gesture, committing them to memory for later use. She was amazed each and every time an Anima berry released its soul magic to a nearby seed, the blue magic of the afterlife rejuvenating the soul within with each feeding. 

Unfortunately, she was so enraptured that she failed to notice her guide stop, nearly falling over as she bumped into his suddenly still frame. 

“What-” She began only for her words to die out as she laid eyes upon the most stunning creature she had ever seen. 

The first thing she noticed was the two curled horns that stuck out the sides of her head. Closer to branches of a tree than the ivory of bone, they sprouted leaves and other smaller branches as they curled inward on themselves in much the same pattern as the staves held by the Fae. The horns led back to two smaller ones sticking out like Ara’lons’, short and dagger-shaped as they stuck out from the women's platinum blond hair; the tresses of which fell into two braided lengths down the front of her shoulders on both sides. A kind smile sat upon her pixie-like features as those beautiful blue eyes stared down at her. 

Never before in the entirety of her afterlife had Devos felt so inferior. Even the raw strength and grace of the Archon could not compare to the magnificence of the creature before her. 

“My queen, I-” Ara’lon began before being interrupted as the queen raised a hand to stop him. 

“It has been quite some time since a Kyrian has graced the forests of Ardenweald. Tell me, young one, what brings you to my domain?” The Winter Queen asked, her voice like silk as it flowed into Devos's ears.

The question confounded her for a moment. Her tongue heavy with words that would not come as she struggled to answer the simple question. Of course, the reason for her journey was the soul resting on Ara’lons’ shoulder, but that didn’t seem quite right. There was more to her reason than a simple delivery, something had drawn her here, a call that resonated with the very core of her being... 

 “The forest, it called to me.” She finally answered. 

The Winter Queen seemed happy with her answer, her smile widening just a little bit more as the glow in her eyes brightened. Slowly she extended a hand out to Devos, the four claws that made it wrapping around her arms to coax her forward. For a moment her legs refused to work, but when it became obvious the queen would not stop they were forced to step (less she fell flat on her face). 

Slowly the queen began to lower herself, her dress folding as she moved her eyes to be the same height as Devos’. The Kyrian’s breath hitched as those clawed hands moved once more, one wrapping around her waist while the other raised her left hand to gently rest on the Queen's cheek. Then soft lips were pressing against her own and it was euphoria.

The seed that had been so long dormant inside her roared to life at the Winter Queen’s affection, the natural magic of Ardenweald flowing into her from every direction. Just like in Orobos cracks began to spread out beneath her feet, but instead of releasing raw destructive Anima, they coaxed roots from the forest floor. The wood wrapping around her feet and ankles to draw out the excess Anima she was releasing. Slowly, the blue of her skin began to give way to green as the calm power of Bastin was replaced with the wild heart of Ardenweald. 

A gasp escaped her lips as the Winter Queen’s hands began to glow, her own power beginning to flow into Devos. Eventually, it began to feel like too much, the gentle transfer of power increasing the longer it went until it felt as though the very core of her being were being ripped out. She attempted to turn her head away, but another root was there to hold the kiss in place, a muffled scream escaping her as the power transfer increased once more. 

Her soul felt like it was on fire, the Anima in her body shifting and coiling as the powers of Bastion and Ardeweald wared within her. She could faintly feel the Winter Queen trying to soothe her pain, a gentle prodigy at her mind urging her to relax, but they were for not as her mind was lost to the concoction of agony and fear that dominated her thoughts. She was both flying and sinking, burning and freezing, dying and being born, all at the exact same time. 

Then nothing. 

The claws on her body retreated as did the roots. The ground beneath her feet sealing back up as the power of the ley lines soaked into the dirt as vegetation. Her soul no longer felt as though it were being dipped in molten Anima and instead felt strangely at peace in a way she hadn’t ever felt before. Then, at last, the kiss broke as well, Devos leaning forward with the Queen's retreat in a desperate attempt to maintain the euphoric experience. Once separated, the leader of the Night Fae smiled at her as she ran a claw along Devos's cheek.

“I am the forest.” she said, her voice echoing among the trees. “And at last you have answered my call.”