Pilgrimage

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley,

Or harvesters in the Moor,

But now are, due to the greed of man,

For they always settle scores.

-Wendell Fair, Poet of the Idle Torment

Teeth barred, ribs broken and bleeding, Kelvin Musker, had finally met his little sister. Of course, she wasn't aware of this. If she had been, a few minutes prior, he may not be on the edge of death. But his soft-spoken nature paired with his hulking figure and brash appearance had landed him in quite the macabre predicament. Should he even tell her at this point? Should he relay the lengths at which he had gone to find her? In his humble opinion, it could be quite awkward to describe his arduous journey whilst simultaneously assessing the damage done to his chest cavity.

He made up his mind. He wouldn't tell her just yet.

He would tell her eventually.

Right?

"Hey! Have you decided to die yet!? I'm not entirely sure who you are, or why you decided it would be a good day to cross me, but when someone does you the courtesy of not removing their sword until you're dead, the least you can do is DIE QUICKLY!"

Hazel had not yet surmised that this recently skewered companion of her's may not, in fact, wish to die. On the contrary, he may in actuality still be in possesion of that ever disquieting "Will to Live" that humans always seemed to possess. Typical. They're always so stubborn.

"So...you...you really don't know who I am...do you?", Kelvin uttered, bellied over and wincing between breaths.

"I don't, and I really don't care to. Now, please, it's both our time to depart. Though, in quite opposite directions, I'm afraid. I'm headed North towards the Armory in Trout, and you...well...". Hazel shrugged while drawing in the ground with her dagger; she had won it in a Valestrian horse race a few years back. Her proclivity for impulsive evasions of boredom often brought tools to her arsenal and foes to be wary of.

As she continued to draw, however, a certain peculiarity that had previously been chalked up to nerves, would not loosen it's grip on her. She observed the dagger glide lightly over the surface of the forrest floor, parting grains of dirt and fallen leaves to either side of the blade. However, after completing a rather shoddy image of a Bowlsnake with a final flourish of her knife, she observed some debris follow in a trail behind the lifted weapon. However, instead of returning to the ground, the trail remained stagnant, stuck mid-air.

She paused, and as her thoughts strained within her, she realized something. Upon entering the glade, she had felt a subtle yet everpresent pressure begin to pulse around her body, as if she were being lightly squeezed at all times. She had only known that feeling before in the presence of far darker and increasingly more vile company then her current. But regardless of the company, whether they be human, tradients, harvesters, or martyrs, their was always a common factor: Magic. Specifically that of the Old World, before the invasions from beneath many years ago.

Kelvin rose slightly to his knees, the sword still neatly thrust between his ribs. He stammered a few syllables that were unrecognizable to Hazel, but obviously were some kind of cursing. She could tell that his figure was racked with pain, but he still contained an odd strength within him. Power, not weakness, seemed to emanate from him. It wasn't the appearance of someone merely human, certainly not that of one close to death.

"I haven't much time, Hazel. Well, rather, I am in possession of great lengths of time, but not an increase of it", Kelvin explained with a weak chuckle, "You're seeing it now, aren't you?"

She was. In addition to her observations from the knife, she had also noticed similar patterns of dust, leaves, and rocks caught mid-flight and creating trails in the air from where they had just ended their brief stint of battle. If she focused her eyes on them, she could indeed see that they were still moving, but at a rate that would be imperceptible to a passerby. She turned to Kelvin, who's shrug had turned to a sort of upright lean.

"You're a mage aren't you!?", Hazel exclaimed, "I know a dilation when I see one, I've fought magii before. What are you doing all the way out here in the Outlands?" Before she could say anything else, her breath was arrested as the sword hilt began to extend outward from the gash it wrought upon Kelvin's side. That same pressure she had felt when she entered the glade began to intensify, as she suddenly felt every muscle in her body begin to tense and contract. She was pulled into a foray of movements with muscles spasming, eyes darting in multiple directions, and a pulsing sensation in the base of her skull. Subsequently, she felt her hand grip the leather of her sword hilt as her legs compelled themselves to walk, but she could only seem to move backwards. All around her, the trails of debris began to shift the direction of their movements quite hasilty, returning to their inital resting places. In what all at once felt like an instant, the pressure released like that of a stretched out rubber band, and she found herself transported a few yards from where she had just been.

After she fully regained her bearings, she began to shrink back from the figure that once lay wounded on the ground, as he slowly stammered towards her. "I apologize for that.", he said calmly, "I realize that it may have been exceedingly uncomfortable for you. If it's any consolation, however, you did stab me. That's the closest I've come to death in a long time. You fought very well."

"Who are you?", she whimpered, still recovering from the after effects of the spell. "Who I am is not important, at least not for now. But what I have come to do can no longer be hidden, as the fate of your people may depend on it." Kelvin knew his next words by heart, having hoped to one day recite them to her for a long time. "Hazel, while you may not know me, I know much about you. You're the daughter of Alondros and Seraphina, two of the most cunning and noble protectors of Outlands our world has ever seen. You have been raised to follow in their footsteps since you were a little girl, and yet, you want nothing more than to freely roam the woods. Rather unfortunately, though, that dream may never be realized, as you are also the last hope for peace amongst our fractured lands."

Hazel was taken aback by his words. For someone she had essentially slaughtered a few minutes ago, he was surprisingly well off. "What in Helios do you mean by that!?", she questioned.

The ground suddenly began to shake. "Another one of your spells, mage?", she accused. "No", he answered, "I wish it were so. I'm so sorry, I truly am, but you have to come with me at this very moment. We need to get you to Wind's Rest by nightfall. That shaking is not something either of us are prepared to face, not yet anyways."

With the ground rumbling like it itself was enraged at them both, Hazel pondered what to make of the situation. She was always up for an adventure, but to leave everything behind this quickly and without saying goodbye to her family....

Then the rumbling stopped, her ears began to ring with a piercing screech, and a hole developed in the ground, not 30 feet to their right.

Hazel had a decision to make.