• PM To Join • Harmonic Convergence

[Aeodan]

TBD

Aeodan sat behind a mahogany desk, eyes staring unblinkingly at the strange device in front of him. The ChordBox, the piece of Shay history that he recovered from Farafan's temple, taunted him with its strange shape and unknowable runes. He frowned, as he had a million times since leaving Rynmere, and operated it once more. Beyond the desk, clouding a classroom, was a number of students who all resembled his sister Edalene... And himself, before his transformation from a young boy to a middle aged man. He should have had Thomas reverse the magic before he left the Orm'del, but he couldn't bring himself to relinquish this new identity that he had created for himself... Someone who wasn't Aeodan Burnett, who didn't kill a man... Who didn't let Ninacky die.

Two arcs meant nothing when Ninacky had no arcs remaining. But still, Aeodan could not dwell on that past, at least not without a plan for the future. And so he listened ot the stone, looking up every now and then to see if the images of his sister or himself, which he didn't seem to notice were replicating, could make heads or tails of the language. The only two faces in the crowd that were not his own or Edalene's were Envoy, his Emean companion, and a strange redheaded girl. She might have not existed to Aeodan at the moment.

Envoy, though, immediately recognized the girl, and it turned its porcelain face to regard her, its smile too toothy and humanlike for its alien appearance. It dipped a long frog's finger into a vial around its neck, and the voice that came out obviously belonged to someone else. It was smooth and assured, a jovial scholar's voice... And one Aeodan knew well.

"You don't look like Her," the being said, the stolen voice projecting more amusement than the statement let on. It was impossible for Thomas's voice to sound anything other than jovial, especially since Envoy only ever knew the man while he was reunited with his family. Still, though, it was disconcerting, and the creature was obviously a phantasm from beyond the realm.

"Shhh." Aeodan commanded, never even looking up at Envoy from his desk. He was entranced, as he had been a billion times, by the songlike quality of the Shay's language. If only he could figure it out. He began to sing, in Common. The images of himself and his sister sang along, a harmony exactly like the one in the Fifth Temple.

"Lo! I, Child of Song, Lyolon, My Humble Name.
I Come to You, Oh Fifth Verse of The Song,
Oh Priestess of Carapace, Oh Empress of of Peace
Oh Devourer of Shame, Oh Princess of Rebirth

When Came the Tyrants, Your Enemies Emean
When Came the Trumpet of the Song, You Flew
We Prayed to You, Victorious. We Sang Your Fortune.
Louder, Still, Than the Heretics Who Worship False Verses.

The Daughter of Their Empress, That Child of Poison
Who Stole Your Mighty Wingbeats, Who Corrupted Your Many Many Children
Lisirra, of Cierel, Defilement of Your Beauty, Spun her Guile
Upon the Spear of Mighty Raskalarn, Daughter of the Conqueror

Her Venom So Foul, to Pierce Your Noble Hearts
To Turn Your Benevolence to Violence.
To Turn Your Protection from Your Singing Chosen
To Make You Enemy Unto Yourself

I, Most Humble Shay, Lyolon
Last of My Station, My Daughter Now Silenced
Choking on Heretic Blade, I Miss her Tune
Will Sing You to Slumber, Mighty Farafan

Still Your Many Many Legs
Fold Your Many Many Wings
Close Your Many Many Eyes
And Dream of Us, Your Chosen in Song".

As he finished the Second Sermon, the ChordBox sat unmoving, as it had since leaving Farafan's temple. Aeodan snarled in frustration, sneering at the useless artifact. He knew that the magic that powered it still slumbered beneath Rynmere, but he had to hope that he could awaken it... That he could learn the language and save Farafan... Truly save Farafan.

And Envoy once again turned its head towards the redhead, expressionless. She still got the impression that it was gauging her reaction to the Sermon, to everything she was witnessing.

[Yeva]

8 Ymiden 720

It didn't occur to Yeva that she was among the company of replicas, nor did she notice that amidst the waves of dark-headed students, she was the only one who appeared to possess locks of blazing red. Instead, she seemed rather intent on rearranging a stack of loose notes, fussing over the order in which they were displayed. No matter how hard she tried to organize them, each jostling of the paper assisted in jumbled the lettering of each sentence, until after a great rustling of frustration, each character of the alphabet dislodged itself from the parchment and went fluttering through the air to scatter across her desk and onto the floor.

Gentle hands went snatching at the air, hoping to grasp the elusive message, but as she struggled to scoop up the letters as delicate as robin eggs, it became apparent that the symbols which had fallen on the table were now fused into the wood. Her fingertip squeaked as she rubbed the surface, brows knitted.

Just as she was beginning to ponder this curiosity, a voice called out in the silent classroom, pleased and jolly, "You don't look like Her."

Yeva looked up, spotting a thing. It was framed thin, with an almost child-like build and four finger-like appendages with one of which sat dipped into a vial containing red sludge, bound around its neck. Teeth and eyes, many and golden were honed watching. The creature was otherworldly and Yeva felt her shoulders rise in caution, unsure how to answer its observation, “Who?”

'What’s wrong with how I look?' Yeva wondered without knowing, glancing over at a girl who sat in the chair beside her. She opened her mouth to speak, cut off by the irate ‘shh’ of the middle-aged man at the front of the classroom. The professor’s back was to the hoard, attention ever focused. This did not stop the familiar feeling of shame that crept into her chest from the public reprimand. Yeva’s cheeks began to flame, unsure who he had wanted to silence- although the embarrassing was not as severe as normal, it should be noted - and she found herself waiting.

Just like the others, her seating partner had mousy brown hair and black nails that looked oddly familiar. The medic stared at the girl’s hand for a moment, the lingering pressure of deja vu on the back of her mind. Like Faith, Yeva realized, staring at the black claws. On the opposite side, her right was a boy. He too, held a stark relation to the stranger on her other side, with jutting bone structure and full lips. They had a resemblance in their face but also in their posture. And then, just as Yeva was beginning to put together the pieces that something just wasn’t right about this class, the room began to vibrate with sound.

It began at the front of the class, a soft lilting Common that rippled outward and crescendoed into a full orchestra of song. Yeva had never been in such a large room with so many voices in sync, and the effect was haunting, ethereal. Goosebumps rose along her arms and she gripped the edge of her desk. Yeva listened.

Again, she did not understand.

Lyolon.
Priestess of Carapace.
Empress of Peace.

Tyrants. Enemies Emean.
False Verses.
Lisirra. Raskalarn.

I, most humble Shay. Lyolon.

Mighty Farafan.

Yeva’s hand shot into the air, even before the song ended. She felt as if the questions on her tongue didn’t soon release, she would choke on their very existence. But still, the professor paid her no mind, the song ended and an eerie silence blanketed the group like heavy snow that left her straining in her seat.

The redhead could feel Envoy watching her, the creature with the strange voice and unnatural disposition. Yeva tried to keep her eyes ahead, arm beginning to tire as it stretched towards the ceiling. Why was no one asking questions? Why was the older one not teaching them? At last, her curiosity demanded satisfaction and she did not care for the etiquette of structured learning. Yeva jumped to her feet and went bounding down the aisles in a flash of burning umber, intent to seek the answers herself, “Excuse me,” she called, stopping a few feet away as she noticed the man’s snarl.

Honey brown eyes dropped to the Chordbox, a strangely shaped device etched in runes. They did not appear to be Arathanaka, but she studied them nonetheless. Her head tilted and her expression seemed to light up, the freckles of her cheeks stretching as she smiled, “What is that!” and then remembering why she had approached in the first place, she looked back up, “Please explain your song. I have so many questions."

[Aeodan]

TBD

He sat, unmoving for a while, after he finished the Verse. His breathing was shallow, hitching every few seconds as if he were going to burst into tears. Indeed, they welled in his eyes, but he choked them back. The Song, written by Lyolon the Shay, spoke of the defilement of one of the Verses of Idalos, the rulers of the world prior to the Originals. Aeodan stared straight ahead, the deluge dangerously close to the surface, when the woman approached. Aeodan knew she was different than the other faces in the crowd. He knew the faces in the crowd were all the same face, but on some subconscious level, he denied it. Even to himself.

A soft smile broke his lips, though, at her insistence that he tell her what the Song meant. He blinked back the tears finally, the first of his movement since he sang. The ChordBox remained motionless and mysterious, dutifully resisting his attempts to crack its ancient code. Turning to the redhead, he seemed to stare right through her.

"You're curious, though I suppose you have been since you were a girl," he said, the wistful smile playing on his lips. In that moment, she was Edalene as a young woman, before the Temple of Farafan, before the deaths of Allan and Ninacky... She was Edalene when she was his sister, curious and unabashed. It took him a few moments to speak again, and this time, his voice was fiery and full of passion.

"That, my dear, was the song of a creature that no longer exists in this world, but has been instead relegated to the status of mythology. Named Lyolon, he was a Shay dedicated to Singing of the Verse Farafan. That song, specifically, noted the attack on Farafan by the Immortals so beloved by the world these trials. Poisoned and driven mad with grief and pain." The words were heavy, but the tone was not. In fact, it was as if Aeodan delighted in telling Yeva, or perhaps anyone, what he saw that trial, what he encountered in those cursed ruins beneath Rynmere's porcelain surface.

In truth, he was relieved. He carried the weight of that secret, damning him by association to the Professor, Thomas Theodore Terrance, and perhaps giving away that he too participated in the criminal terrorism in Rynmere two arcs prior. But there, in that safe space, surrounded by the ChordBox and his sister a thousand thousand times, he felt secure. Secure in his knowledge, in his pursuit, and in his Quest.

Envoy shambled over, walking delicately like a caricature might. Its loping gait was unnatural, as if it had been described to the Diri but It had never actually seen movement. The blood on its grotesque finger was still wet, and when it spoke, it was once again with Edalene's voice.

"Lost to the world, those songs are," and it grinned that horrible smile. Aeodan's eyes snapped to it, finally aware that they were in the Diri's presence. He blinked, becoming somewhat more aware of what the situation was. He turned back to the redheaded woman, whose smile lit the dreamy space around him.

"And you, inquisitive dove, have stumbled upon a secret so astonishing, it cannot be spoken about for fear of jest. Nevertheless, I was there... I saw Farafan, mighty and many. I gazed upon the poisoned carapace, and watched as it killed her. And then I killed it." He was gone again, a million lifetimes away, buried in the cloying darkness of Farafan's temple.

"To proceed, you must share with me a Secret. A great man once told me that every great Adventure requires a sacrifice, something honest and true, to christen in, and now that you have been given a taste of this esoteric history, you will not be able to get a full night's rest without searching. The Song will consume you, whether you can hear it or not, and it will boil your blood with the lust of Adventure. So speak true, and speak now, or leave this place, and leave this memory," came Aeodan's continuation. He paused then, finally seeing Yeva as herself, and not his sister. His fingers flexed, but he gave no other indication that he would move until she spoke.

His eyes were soft and inviting, though the hard set of his jaw and the wrinkles around his eyes gave away his exhaustion. Envoy, though, stared hard at her, its wicked smile gleaming from within, as if it had candles in its mouth flickering behind his teeth. It was Aeodan's Truth that brought the Diri to him, the power calling beyond the Veil to awaken the Diri. There was power in a Secret, and the more buried the secret, the more power.

[Yeva]

Title/Date

Yeva thought the professor might cry; was he so moved by the music? Yeva wrung her hands, afraid her eagerness had become intrusive, overstepping boundaries of etiquette and into the dangers of officiousness. She glanced back at the room, to her desk, but it was no longer empty, instead replaced by another replicated face. A brunette with a soft face, next to a boy of similar features. Just as all the others.

"You're curious, though I suppose you have been since you were a girl."

Yeva's attention snapped back to the man, whose warm smile caused his the corner of his eyes to crinkle. He spoke with familiarity, as if they had known each other for a very long time, seized with passion, "That, my dear, was the song of a creature that no longer exists in this world, but has been instead relegated to the status of mythology. Named Lyolon, he was a Shay dedicated to Singing of the Verse Farafan."

Lyolon. Verse Farafan. The Shay.

How did he know all this?

Yeva knew very little of the world, and had never travelled to Rynmere, although it was a short journey from Rharne itself. What did she know of that place? They had a king and a queen and noble families, and more recently an inquisition. And then a plague according to Adunih records, but Yeva had never heard anything about the Shay, and she leaned against the table, lowering her chocolate gaze to the ominous chordbox. Why had the Immortals attacked?

Uneven footsteps squelched and pattered forward, the creature shambling with a red-dipped finger and eerie, illuminous smile. She could still hear its words, its accusation. You don't look like her. Yeva wanted to back away, and would have, had she not be dreaming.

"Lost to the world, those songs are."

The professor continued in his instruction, describing things she still didn't understand. Farafan was mighty and many - so multiple? - and a poisoned carapace. Her brow furrowed, "I don't understand." Who did he kill?

And who was being avenged?

Her?

Yeva did not look back this time, restraining the thousand questions on her tongue. He asked for a secret now and for a long, Yeva did not speak. To anyone who knew the young woman, they could vouch how honest she was and the few secrets she carried were not hers to share. It took some time, and each time she opened her mouth, she shook her head before pressing her lips together. Frustration bloomed in her chest. Then panic. She didn't want to say, but as she tested the secret to her own heart, she knew it was true.

"I..." Yeva suddenly didn't want to be here. Was it too late to leave? She hugged her arms to her chest and her head dipped in sorrow, "I have turned a blind eye to suffering; Athart mourns and I pretend I can not help."

A pained look twisted her face, a pleading in her eyes. Yeva was not a selfish person, her heart heart but what could she do a world away? "There was a storm; a plague. The city's covered it up, but Avriel have disappeared. Feathers in their wake, I know they suffer... But they scorn me. They don't want my help!"

Her chest tightened, she drew away from the table, conflicted and seized with the desperation to be understood, "The slaves were liberating. They cried war. But I was scared, I was hurt... I made a vow and broke it," tear sprung in her eyes, she couldn't breathe. She had sworn to help anyone in medical need when she joined the Order, "I should have stayed. I should have found a cure. Now I might have the knowledge and..."

Her shoulders dropped.

Yeva looked at the Chordbox accusingly, silent tears rolling down her cheeks and soaking the collar that appeared around her neck, "I never want to go back."

[Aeodan]

TBD

There were moments in history that shone through the mire and darkness of the times, beacons of hope against a backdrop of villainy, tyranny and shame. These echoes of humanity were etched in the amber of civilization, unearthed and uncovered by those with the humility and honesty to accept their shortcomings and delve into the ruins of their own actions. Consequence bore guilt bore misery, and by speaking that misery into existence, one could begin a path of destiny so strong that neither Original nor Immortal, Verse nor dragon could hinder its progress. There is a candidness in being true to ones self, even in a realm that does not truly exist, at least the mortal knows it. Upon speaking her Truth, that sense of belonging, of worth and destiny broached the air between the two, settling like a heavy and velvety perfume, suffocating to those uninitiated into the ways of Adventure, but comforting like a weighted blanket to those familiar with the experience. Aeodan smiled as she finished, the tears in her eyes bringing soft ones to his own, and he reached an aged hand out to lay on her shoulder. Yeva would notice the tattoo on that back of his hand, that of a spider, beetle and bee in a triangle.

"You are, as you always have been, right where you are supposed to be. You cannot change the past, nor can you lift the guilt, but you can strive every single trial to put the next foot forward. We do not read books backwards because the stories themselves are not to be told backwards. In media res, we find both our strength to carry on and the vulnerability of ourselves. Sit, child, and I will tell you of Farafan, the mighty."

Aeodan indicated the chair next to Envoy, knowing full well It was sitting there. The creature never blinked, but merely followed Yeva's movements as she did as Aeodan asked. He turned back to the ChordBox with a sigh, sitting on the edge of the desk and staring down at it.

"My sister's name was Edalene. She was a brash girl, sure of herself. She thought the world owed her something, and perhaps it did. We were both headstrong, but Eda was actually strong, and she demanded nothing less than the best for herself. It was endearing to those close to her, but offputting to those who were at arms' length. Except one man. There was a professor in Rynmere named Thomas Terrence, a historian and perhaps the greatest archaeologist the Kingdom had ever seen. Those who called him friend did so with a loyalty that bordered on love, and those who called him family guarded him with their lives and more. So when Edalene met Thomas, there was an instant kinship in his softness, blunting the rough edges of her personality. They bonded quite quickly, though archaeology was my field of study before Edalene's... She was a religious scholar, see," he explained, the wetness around the edges of his eyes growing and threatening to break free of the meniscus.

"But the Professor's magnetism drew my sister, and he invited her to accompany him in place of his usual colleague to look into a strange story told by a friend of his. Eda, of course, begged him to let me come. I was sickly then, weak of leg and spirit. When the Professor did relent, I tried my best to keep up with them, but felt myself a burden. But when we arrived to a large stone obelisk outside the Eastern Settlements of Rynmere, something in me stirred and changed. Much as you, dear girl, told your Truth, so too did I, and the strength of the story flowed into me. The very next morning, now bled into family with the Professor, the three of us progressed to a crypt that we were told belonged to an ancient and powerful civilization... if only we had known."

Aeodan paused and turned to Yeva, the fires intense in his crying eyes. She could see the pain, buried for arcs, rising to the surface. Anger covered it like a layer of dust, and he clenched his jaw to keep from lashing out at the ChordBox. After a few agonizing trills, though, he regained his composure.

"Below the surface of Rynmere, sealed away by forces unknown, was a shrine to a being named Farafan, the Many. Farafan was the Fifth Verse of Idalos, a spirit so powerful that only twelve of them were worshipped by the pre-mortal civilization known as the Shay. These Shay were around when the Originals first entered Idalos from Emea, and fought a bitter war against them to maintain the status quo. They lost," Aeodan lamented.

Here he paused, watching as Envoy vibrated silently in its seat. He knew that the being had something to communicate regarding the Originals, but that it could only relay the message once, and it would wait until it could do so in every language of Idalos at once. Turning his attention back to Yeva, he finished his story.

"Farafan was poisoned and crippled by Raskalarn and Lisirra, and has been sealed away in that Temple since the earliest days of the Immortals. Edalene, Thomas and I uncovered that temple, and in doing so, woke the Many Mother. Enraged and embittered, Farafan lashed out at us as if were were the agents of Lisirra ourselves, and Farafan killed Edalene. In my grief, instead of helping Farafan, I struck at Her heart and destroyed her, forcing her to retreat, perhaps forever. Though Edalene was Judged and brought back by Pier and Pre, we barely escaped with our lives. Since, though, I have made it my life mission to find more of the temples of the Shay, to uncover what really happened on Idalos before the written record of mortal man. Armed with the ChordBox and a SongStone, I hope to learn the ancient language of the Shay to help me find and enter their temples..."

He paused.

"Dust knows that would be a story for the legends," he mused, though there was not much mirth in the statement. "And now you, hungry in your pursuits and True to yourself, find yourself invited by Dust himself to play your part. It's an exciting thing, is it not?"

Aeodan then looked as he had before he had been changed by that Becoming well. He looked youthful, excited and hopeful... Things he had not been in arcs. And Yeva could tell.

[Yeva]

Title/Date

The man reached out to rest his hand upon her she looked at the marking upon his skin - she hadn't noticed it before. A tattoo, a trinity. She found it strangely beautiful; creepy crawlies never scared her, and the bee in particular made her smile through the first trickle of her tears. It reminded her of Dari, of his nickname for her. Honey Bee.

When he spoke of media res, she nodded, "You're right." He had to be; Yeva did not like, nor did she want to consider the possibility that it was all significant. That while connected, these chain of events had a purpose that would reveal themselves. That her journey was not over, "Thank you."

Sniffling, she took another breath and looked to where he pointed. It was sitting there, the thing with the mouth and bloody vial. She tried not to hesitate too long, her steps a bit shyer the closer she stepped forward, but if made no move to touch her, she would take her seat and tuck her curls behind her ears to listen. No more tears, she silently willed, hurrying to dry her cheeks as the Professor began the start of his take.

And what a beginning it was. There was a romance to it, woven with affection and pride. Out among the rows of seats, sat the crowd of students, at the many faces of the woman. The memories and its reflection. Next came the description of Thomas Terrance, but whom she had no face for. Yeva, noticing the shine of his eyes - the moisture - furrowed her brow.

'Don't cry,' she silently pleaded, gripping the edge of her seat as he continued. With tellings of Rynmere, she pictured the boy he was and the looming obelisk, desiring Truth. Some things were still difficult to imagine, but she could feel the uneasiness, the sorrow.

"Below the surface of Rynmere, sealed away by forces unknown, was a shrine to a being named Farafan, the Many. Farafan was the Fifth Verse of Idalos, a spirit so powerful that only twelve of them were worshiped by the pre-mortal civilization known as the Shay."

Yeva looked over at Envoy, the Professor's words haunting and grim, "They lost."

So final.

The creature beside her began to vibrate and drew back, leaning away but not leaving her seat. It made her uneasy, she couldn't hide the expression, but she tried to stay focused. The story was no over and she wished dearly to hear its end, invested.

"These Shay were around when the Originals first entered Idalos from Emea, and fought a bitter war against them to maintain the status quo."

More details followed, many she did not understanding. So... the Originals were before the Immortals. She had asked that very question to Friell in the Spirit of Adventure and he had expertly avoided its answer. How curious now, was that she was told the answer, when being called to something, apparently by 'Dust' himself, "Cassion?"

She knew of him, had met him, but the possibility of his involvement was not the reason she jumped from her seat. Yeva looked between him and Envoy, unfazed when the old man was replaced by someone far younger. In Emea, it somehow made sense and she smiled, "Exciting is one word," Yeva took a deep inhale that expanded her chest, until her ribs ached. At last, she spoke, "I want to know more. Tell me... What can I do? Where can I go?"

[Avalon]

Review Rewards

Yeva

Name: Yeva

Points awarded: 15

Knowledge: Non-lucid dream

Skill Review: Non-lucid dream

Aeodan

Name: Aeodan

Points awarded: 15

Knowledge: Non-lucid dream

Skill Review: Non-lucid dream

Notes:
This was a beautifully written piece! I enjoy reading about events that I'm not familiar with and this piece included a lot of them.

Both of you included a lot of personal detail into your writing that made the character experience that much more vivid. As a reader, I appreciate that. It allowed me to connect to the characters and care about their individual experiences within the non-lucid dream. Sometimes it's hard to make that connection but you guys did great in that department, grabbing the reader and pulling them in...or her in, in this case!

Awesome job!

If you have any questions, comments, or concerns regarding this review, feel free to PM. Enjoy your rewards!

Avalon