Session 71

Gar finds a way

Deep crimson velvet curtains adorned the windows of the mess hall, their rich folds pooling onto the floor like the robes of some forgotten monarch. They transformed the waning evening light into something regal, casting the room in a warm, muted glow. Candlelight danced across polished glassware and the gold trim of each place setting, adding an understated opulence to the carefully arranged tables. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats, spiced vegetables, and a hint of aged wine…a melody of indulgence that promised satisfaction, or perhaps distraction.

Dax stood near the head of the room, hands clasped behind his back, surveying his handiwork. He allowed himself the barest hint of a smile. This was his masterpiece…a night of perfection, an evening to set the stage for something more. Aqol would notice. He had to notice.

And then Aqol appeared.

The young half-elf hovered in the doorway, an uncertain figure framed by the soft light spilling from within. His wide eyes flickered over the room, taking in the details with the quiet intensity that had made him a talented painter. His satchel, bulging with brushes and paint supplies, rested at his side…a reminder that Aqol was never fully anywhere else but in his thoughts.

Dax’s smile faltered, just slightly. “Aqol,” he said, stepping forward with practiced ease, masking his surprise. “You made it.”

“This is…” Aqol began, his voice soft, like a brushstroke on a canvas. “This is magnificent.” Awe colored his features, but as quickly as it came, it faded. He lowered his gaze to Dax, something heavy settling over his expression. “But…”

“But?” Dax prompted, already missing the awe.

“I’ve been thinking,” Aqol said, voice firmer now, though tinged with hesitation. “Before we…before the date…I think we need to talk. About our pasts.”

Dax tilted his head, genuinely curious but cautious not to press too hard. “What have you been thinking?”

“I’m cursed, Dax,” Aqol said with a faint, self-effacing smile. “Not literally, I mean… Relationships. They don’t work for me. I should tell you more about myself before…before we make this into something it might not survive.”

For a moment, the silence stretched between them, fragile but not uncomfortable. Dax watched Aqol and saw the layers of self-protection in his guarded smile. Slowly, Dax nodded.

“I’d like that too,” he said, his voice softening. “To talk. To get it all out there.”

Aqol seemed to relax at that, the tension in his shoulders easing. “There’s a place on the ship I go when I need to think,” he said, a glimmer of hope lighting his features. “The conservatory. It’s peaceful. Would you… come with me?”

Dax smiled again, this time unguarded. “Lead the way.”

They left the mess hall, the rich scents of the feast giving way to the ship’s harsher aromas of ozone and machinery. Aqol led Dax through narrow corridors and up creaking stairs, their footsteps echoing in the silence of the evening. Finally, they reached the conservatory, nestled at the bow of the ship. It starkly contrasted with the rest of the vessel…spanning two decks, the space was open and vibrant, filled with lush greenery and the heady fragrance of flowers. The air was warm, a controlled oasis against the chill of the world outside.

Aqol guided Dax to a lofted bench on the second floor, overlooking a cascade of vines and blossoms. He gestured for Dax to sit, then joined him, his fingers fidgeting with the strap of his satchel.

“This is it,” Aqol said quietly. “So I’ll start, my name is Aqol na Laru. I’m part of an Aristocaste Family who has fallen on bad times. My father passed away for enigmatic reasons and now I’m the one the family is relying on to save the family. I have to become a strong wizard now and hope to get into the Eldon Order. ” Aqol pauses on the weight of burden put upon his shoulders.

Dax hesitated, letting the silence grow heavy enough for him to speak, though he seemed reluctant. Finally, he cleared his throat and muttered, “Alright, I’ll go.” He straightened, like a performer stepping onto a stage. “My name is Dax, and my past is… well… complicated.”

The words hung in the air, weighed down by an unspoken history. Dax’s mannerisms betrayed his roots in the theater and circus…flair tempered by an uneasy vulnerability. Ramond Dumfy’s name came up, and Aqol perked up. “That name,” Aqol murmured, narrowing his eyes as if sifting through a hazy memory. “It’s familiar.”

Before Dax could probe further, a question spilled from him, raw and innocent. “What’s a date?” The question felt almost too simple for a man so layered, yet the truth of it was there…Dax had never been in a relationship. Never been on a date.

Aqol, unprepared for such honesty, faltered but tried his best to answer, weaving his explanation through the lens of his own past. The words led him to darker memories, secrets he had buried. Aqol’s expression tightened. “I… once dated someone,” he began, the words reluctant as if they might bite back. “His name was Izeeldeen. It didn’t end well.”

Dax tilted his head, curiosity in his gaze. Aqol sighed, as if the story weighed too much to carry alone. “Izeeldeen asked me for something…an Aredite Rose. Its thorns carry an enchantment, making the bearer irresistibly alluring if they draw blood. I hesitated, not knowing what he intended to do with this rose.”

The memory came rushing back to Aqol as he spoke, his voice quieter now. “But I didn’t bring him the real rose. I thought… I thought I could fool him with one that looked the same. He needed it for a spell, one of Malice…a Blood Revival. He didn’t realize until it was too late. The spell failed, and it scarred him. He…” Aqol hesitated, his voice thick with regret. “He left me after that.”

Dax nodded, his expression neutral but not unkind. “I don’t care about your mistakes,” he said, his voice firm. “We all make them. Let’s leave this place.” He gestured toward the conservatory’s exit. “Let’s go to the mess hall and start this ‘date’ thing.”

Aqol blinked in surprise but nodded, his usual guarded demeanor softening. Together, they moved toward the exit…until Dax stopped abruptly. His breath hitched, his hand clutching at his chest as his vision blurred. Gar’s voice whispered through his mind, and the scene struck him like a blade.

He saw himself standing over Aqol, a deadly spell erupting from his hands, consuming Aqol entirely. Crimson sprayed the leaves of nearby plants. Little was left of Aqol, only entrails and blood. The image burned into his mind, vivid and horrifying. His stomach twisted, his steps faltering. Then the scene, the vision, the nightmare that Gar had shown him, stopped. “Dax?” Aqol voice pierced through Dax’s stunned state.

“Aqol,” Dax said suddenly, his voice sharp. He turned, his eyes shadowed by something new…guilt, fear. “I… I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

Aqol frowned, reaching out instinctively. “What’s wrong? I can help…”

“No!” Dax’s voice cracked. He shook his head, stepping back. “You have to stay here. Please. Just… trust me…Actually don’t trust me but know that im dangerous if you follow me.”

Confusion warred with the hurt on Aqol’s face, but he relented, his shoulders slumping. “Alright,” he said quietly. “But, Dax… whatever this is, you don’t have to face it alone.”

Dax didn’t answer. He turned and walked away, leaving Aqol standing alone in the conservatory.

A Spirit Walks

The explosion had left them shaken, its aftermath hanging in the air like a phantom they couldn’t quite escape. Mack, Orianna, and Sirius sat together, the tension between them palpable, though none seemed eager to address it directly. Instead, they turned their attention to the letter from Garthos, the words penned to Orianna an anchor amidst the storm of uncertainty.

Orianna held the parchment tightly, her knuckles white. “I don’t know if I can do this,” she admitted, her voice trembling as she finally broke the silence. “My whole life, I’ve always had someone telling me what to do, guiding me. Now… now it’s just me. And I keep making mistakes. What if those mistakes ruin everything for the group?”

Her words hung in the stillness, vulnerable and raw. Mack shifted beside her, the metallic lines of her golem frame catching the dim light. She didn’t speak right away, as if carefully weighing her response. Then, her voice…steady and warm, like a comforting hearth…broke the silence.

“Orianna,” Mack said, “I’ve seen my share of mistakes. Trust me, you’re not alone in that. It’ll be okay. We learn, we grow.” She paused, her usually unshakable demeanor flickering with something more human. “My creator… he made a mistake too. A big one. He tried to take something that wasn’t his to take.”

Orianna looked up, confused by the shift in Mack’s tone. The golem’s eyes seemed distant, focused on something only she could see. “Charlotte,” Mack said softly, her voice almost breaking. “The girl I raised in Eden. I lost her to someone…a man I think might have been my creator. That mistake… it cost me everything. But I keep going because that’s what Charlotte would want.”

The weight of her words settled over them, but Sirius, ever pragmatic, broke through. “I have to ask you about Muvara?” he asked Orianna, his tone measured. He wasn’t one to linger in the past when the present demanded action.

Orianna frowned, her lips tightening. “I’m upset with Muvara,” she admitted. “I liked Xanthos. He made sense. His quest made sense. But Muvara? She’s betrayed me. She used you as bait, Sirius.”

Sirius shrugged, a lopsided grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t see it as betrayal,” he said simply. “What Xanthos and Muvara did… it saved me. I live. And I don’t have to face Edmeera’s wrath anymore. That’s not a bad trade.”

His words gave Orianna pause, her anger simmering but less certain now. Sirius pressed on, his tone lighter. “Why not seek an audience with Muvara? Hear her out?”

Orianna hesitated, but then, tentatively, she closed her eyes and reached out in prayer. The air around her seemed to shift, growing heavy and electric, as if reality itself bent under the weight of divine presence. When she opened her eyes again, they were filled with a light not entirely her own.

Muvara’s voice resonated, calm and commanding. Orianna barely had time to speak before Sirius stepped forward, bowing his head. “Muvara,” he said with uncharacteristic reverence, “allow me to serve in your name.”

The deity regarded him, silent for a long moment, as if weighing the worth of his words. Finally, her voice filled the space, resonating with unshakable authority. “I accept.”

With that, Sirius’s path was sealed. He stood taller, his purpose clear. The Spirit Walker’s mantle settled on his shoulders like a cloak, heavy yet fitting. Orianna watched him, her own doubts momentarily eclipsed by awe.

For better or worse, their fates were now intertwined, bound by divine will and the choices they dared to make.

Regroup and make another plan.

The group gathered in the lower deck’s dim light, the soft creaking of the ship’s timbers blending with the muffled crash of waves against the hull. Dax, Mack, Orianna, Aydriann, Peach, and Ember all stood in a loose circle, the air thick with the anticipation of their next move.

As they began to make their way toward the top deck, Mack’s metallic frame glinted in the lantern light, leading the group. A sudden clink interrupted their ascent…a small metal pipe ricocheting off Mack’s head before clattering to the floor. The sound rang out, hollow but sharp. Mack stopped and picked it up, examining the strange object. It was perfectly crafted for her height, as though designed to hit its mark.

Unfurling the roll of parchment tucked inside, Aydriann read aloud: “What’s her last name?”|Ven

Aydriann straightened, scanning the space as if expecting Venoxyin to step from the shadows. “Ven!” he called out, his voice carrying through the ship. No answer came. The group exchanged uneasy glances but decided this mystery could wait. For now, they had a plan to finalize.

They reached the top deck to find Muvara standing near the ship’s prow, her presence commanding even beneath the soft veil of illusion she maintained over the vessel. The air shimmered faintly around her as if the ship itself resisted being perceived. Edmeera’s gaze, ever-watchful, would find no purchase here.

Orianna’s expression tightened at the sight of Muvara, her feelings for the goddess still a raw wound. Ember, standing beside her, tilted her head in quiet curiosity. The divine presence drew Ember’s gaze as naturally as fire consumes air.

Muvara turned to them, her voice cool and deliberate. “You are safe, for now. But Edmeera is patient. Her reach is long. Please be careful.”

The group huddled, exchanging ideas. It was Aydriann who finally spoke, his voice steady despite the weight of the decision. “Zaelira can teleport us to the Kaircrumao. The rest of the ship will take everyone else to New Moonshire. We’ll regroup there once the task is done.”

It was a clean plan, though not without its risks. Aydriann volunteered to speak to the ship’s captain and ensure their course was set for New Moonshire. “I’ll take care of it,” he said simply, already turning toward the crew quarters.

As the group dispersed, Aydriann talked to the captain. Shortly after he climbed the crow’s nest, his silhouette framed by the rising moons. Dax and Mack moved toward the ship’s hold, where Zaelira would be waiting. Mack gave a small, thoughtful hum, her mind likely still on the note from Ven.

Peach, uncharacteristically quiet, headed back toward Elira’s quarters, his expression shadowed by a private thought. He had asked for a knife for Elira but Aydriann had paused the conversation. Ember stayed on deck a moment longer, staring out at clouds before finally deciding to seek out Preslynn and message Lynessa.

Orianna hesitated, her feet unwilling to move as she stared at Muvara. Finally, she turned sharply and headed toward the lower deck. She would find Sirius.

Each step felt heavy with purpose. They had tasks to complete, a plan to enact, and enemies to outmaneuver. But beneath it all lingered the truth: every move they made now would shape the battles yet to come.