Their words of discouragement echo in my head repeatedly, as I lay on the top of my bunk facing the ceiling of the sleeping tent. The sun has sunk, and a harsh rain pours above me, the occasional drop seeping through.

  “You don’t have the strength yet.”

  They’re wrong– and I'll personally make sure they realize that. They want me to live out the rest of my days starving and impoverished, reminiscing in a pitiful nostalgia of what I could’ve found, what I could’ve achieved.

  Drop. Drop. Drop.

  I’m jolted out of my thoughts by cold raindrops landing directly on my forehead. Probably karma for all the water torture I used in the legion for intel reconnaissance. Alexandria, Orbona, Charlie, and Sevilla are all fast asleep, Charlie is loudly snoring. Where is Antarc?

  Festivities are being set up outside in the outpost’s square, the clamor and bustle of the settlement in overdrive, despite the cold of the rainy night. What could Antarc possibly be up to? Oh well. May as well get whatever sleep I can. I begin to close my eyes.

  Fwip.

  A swooshing sound comes from the entrance of the tent. I sneakily shift my eyes below to see Antarc tiptoeing to his bunk bed he's sharing with Orbona. I watch intently. What is in that bag?

  “Pst. Little one.” Antarc whispers to Orbona, tapping her on the shoulder.

  Orbona sits up from her top bunk, still half under her covers.

  “H-huh?” She mutters groggily.

  “Shhhh!” He gestures a finger to his lips frantically.

  He glances towards all the beds, and I swiftly cover my head with my blanket.

  Did he see me? I reluctantly lower my blanket.

  Antarc returns his attention to Orbona, and I let out a discreet sigh of relief. Who doesn’t enjoy eevesdropping?

  “I got you something from the town square.” Antarc whispers

  “R-really?” Orbona asks, a mixture of confusion and excitement in her voice.

  Antarc reaches into his bag, and pulls out a cotton knit of a deer.

  He hands it to her, a kind smile on his face.

  “Oh my! T-Thank you sir!” Orbona whispers, holding it tightly to her chest.

  How philanthropic. I can’t say I’m surprised.

  “Call me Antarc, little lady.” He giggles, sitting under her top bunk on his bed, Orbona climbing down in her sleeping gown. She plops down next to him, still clinging to the deer.

  “Go back to sleep. We’ll be woken up once the festival begins, which is likely soon. You’re gonna need a lot of energy, so rest up.” Antarc says, in the tone of a concerned father

  “You sound like my dad.” She whispers, giggling. Antarc is silent.

  “Why did you get this for me, Mr. Antarc?”

  Orbona asks after a pause, shyly with a hint of intrigue.

  “Wellll, since you’re down here already, I suppose I can tell you a story, if you want to hear.” Antarc says, exuding a defeated sigh.

  Orbona jumps up.

  “Yes! Please!”

  “SHHHHH!” he ushers her down.

  Setting his bag on the bamboo floor of the tent, he begins to speak.

  “Once, a long time ago, a young Canorian man, and a young Gremorian woman met under peculiar circumstances under the bright sun of the Upper Erisian Expanse. A harsh rain of acid fell upon its sacred grasslands.” Antarc begins, painting a vivid picture with his words.

  “The young Canorian man was far from home, seeking a new and peaceful life in spite of the horrors he had grown accustomed to. Sprawled with colossal stone towers connected by bridges, the Towerstruck Lands were nearly awe-invoking enough to distract him from the imminent danger lurking at every corner. The island of Erisia– especially the Upper portion, was not a welcoming land.” I listen, immersed in this story that I’m not meant to hear.

  “What about the woman, Mr. Antarc?” She asks, the gleam in her round eyes visible even across the room.

  “I’m getting there, Orbona.” Antarc reassures.

  “S-sorry..”

  Antarc continues.

  “The woman was the man’s opposite in many aspects, although they bonded in one category–Hardship. The woman was sharpened by the unpredictability of Upper Erisia, raised amongst and forced to adapt to its unforgiving landscape. A Navaen woman, just like you. She was strong and fierce, an inexhaustible fire burning in her heart, burning solely out of the love for her family and her people. The Navaens of Upper Erisia were a particularly tough group, survivability being their only priority in the treacherous land they roamed. Having to deal with not only the towering Stone Golems, and giant Land Sharks with rows of jagged teeth, but also evil Central Authority military patrols in persecution of a Navaen Genocide. This woman was born and raised through hardship.”

  Antarc fixes his posture.

  “One faithful evening, these two would cross paths. The man stood still under a fallen tower, arched between two large mountains, gazing through a shattered window on its outer wall. Still unfamiliar with these mountains, the sight bewildered him. As he watched a bird fly by through the window. All of a sudden, his nose was overwhelmed with a fragrant note of lavender that coated the air. He scaled the fallen tower with desire to find the source of the heavenly aroma. In this unfamiliar land, the scent drifted his mind back to the bustling plaza of his home-town, the perfumeries advertising their scents, and the overbearing heat of the sun. The man was at peace, briefly.” Antarc said with a sigh of relief.

  “The woman, on the other hand, was on her own, with something to prove. Her tribe thought of her as frail, a burden in a sense. She wanted to bring them home something priceless, more than just food for the night– A token of her worthiness. Her people sound asleep, the woman escaped her sleeping tent, and reached the outskirts of the village. She stood atop a jagged peak, overlooking the vast acid rivers that sprawled across the mountains. Her eyes were caught by a bird soaring in the air above a ruined tower. Unfiltered determination enveloped her being, as the woman reached into her bag, and sprayed a perfume across her body. It was her family’s tradition to coat the musk of a hunter before pursuing their prey, and It was her fallen mother’s last batch. The woman gracefully leapt off the cliff, and scaled across branches and stone pillars. The two were both in pursuit of something equal parts unknown, and equal parts familiar. As the man ran in pursuit of the scent, his nostrils felt it getting stronger and stronger. Eventually he reached a waterfall that stretched into a vast lake of acid. He stood on the grassy shoreline, unsure of whether it was worth crossing the distance. Just as the man was about to return on his path, he noticed something on the opposite shoreline. A woman, sprinting towards him. The scent got stronger, and stronger, until eventually they were standing on opposite sides of the same river, staring at each other.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Antarc put his hands up to his head, imitating a Gremors horns, before beginning to do an impression.

  “Home-lander! I wish to take you prisoner as a gift to my people! Come with me peacefully if you wish not to get hurt! The woman shouted across the distance, her voice reverberating across the forest behind him. But the man just stood still, as he processed the inexplicable beauty of the woman standing across from him. Blah blah blah was all the man heard leaving her lips, each of his senses captivated wholly by her. He had almost felt like he had found a purpose in this strange woman yelling threats at him. The man mustered his courage, and yelled across the distance. ‘Hey! I really like your perfume! Where’d you get it? What's your name? I’m unfamiliar with these lands, so I've been looking for a guide!’ The woman was puzzled of course, but also intrigued with the stout man screaming these random questions at her. She turned around, and began walking back where she came from. ‘Wait, where are you going!?’ The man asked, reaching his hand out. The woman turned back around, sprinting into a massive leap, closing the distance between the two instantaneously. Now standing face to face, the man was still, stunned by the grace of her movement. Just then, the woman-”

  Antarc’s story and my eavesdropping is interrupted as our sleeping quarters door sweeps open, and a horn is blown.

  “THE FESTIVAL HAS BEGUN! WAKE, HOME-LANDERS!” Booms a quaking voice.

  Alexandria, Sevilla, and Charlie collectively wake in a panic, startled by the racket.

  “I will finish the story tomorrow, Orbona.” Antarc reassures Orbona, as she grabs a cloak from the wall and runs past the chief out into the festival. Man. I really wanted to hear the rest of that story. Who knew Antarc had such a gripping way with words?

  We all follow suit, changing into our garments, and exiting the tent.

  Hundreds of Navaen men, women, and children dance and frolic among the bustling square, hundreds of torches of blue flame scattered throughout the plaza. It truly is an awe to view, to be in the presence of hundreds of years of tradition, all enveloping in ecstasy before my eyes. Flames dance, and so do the people, as adrenaline courses through me.

  Sevilla runs to the many food stands, Charlie vanishes, and Antarc embarks in search of the nearest bar. Alexandria walks with me through the festivities, the warmth of the blue flames alleviating the cold in the air. The moon shines a bright blue, ominously illuminating the festival. The stars are visible tonight.

  I stop in my tracks, feeling a tap on my shoulder. I turn around to see a drunken warlord, Raeis.

  “I want to thank you, for your valiant attempt at helping Orbona!” He lifts his wooden mug of mead into the air, drunkenly stumbling on his words. Never in a million years would I expect to witness the Bloodfrost Imperator absolutely plastered.

  “Thank you, sir!” I salute him.

  “Don’t call me sir!” He bellows, stomping on the floor. I briefly lose my balance.

  “Call me Raeis, Zaman!” He laughs heartily.

  As I regain my balance, I don’t bother correcting his butchery of my name.

  “Haha, of course, Raeis! My apologies.” I stutter.

  “We have much to discuss tomorrow-”

  The chief and I’s little conversation is interrupted by a loud cheer of a crowd behind us.

  “Is that who I think it is?!” the drunken warlord rumbles, cutting through the crowd with one hand, pulling me along with him in the other. We emerge through the horde of Navaen’s to the forefront of the crowd.

  We’re greeted by the sight of a standoff between around seven drunk middle aged Navaens, and identical triplets? The three pale men wear dark green nomad robes, and wield indistinguishable black and gold cestuses. Is this the Navaen Hydra? They all immediately notice the presence of the chief, and bow apologetically.

  “Rise! Samwise, Meris, Jaegen! To what do I owe the pleasure to host the Cassatra Triplets!”

  The Navaen Hydra– otherwise known by their people as the Cassatra Triplets, are prodigies of bloodsport. They are of the Meteor Isle Navaens, lying deep in the east. They were raised and bred by battle, and know nearly nothing else. Or such is said of them.

  The middle triplet speaks.

  “Oh uncle Raeis, it is a-”

  “Pleasure to see you!” The right one finishes his sentence.

  “Now, Meris, what did I tell you about-”

  “Referring to the Chief as uncle?” The left one interrupts the right one’s sentence.

  “Good to see you, Chief Raeis!” They all say, suddenly synchronized.

  “Oh, drop the formalities! It is a night of celebration, and we have many guests of honor.”

  Raeis speaks in an embracing tone.

  He shifts his gaze from the triplets, looking up to the moon, and reaches his free hand to his spear.

  “MY CHILDREN, FLOCK TO THE CENTER! THE CEREMONY IS NEARLY UPON US!”

  Raeis’ scream echoes as the music reaches a crescendo. He slams the bottom of his spear into the floor, and every Navaen in the outpost chants.

  “INVICTA NAVAE!”

  How does the Etrean military not hear this? Oh well. With Raeis here, there shouldn’t be anything to worry about. I turn around to usher Alexandria through the crowd, but the space she occupied behind me is suddenly empty. Where did she go? Damn it. Hopefully we all reunite at the ceremony. A bunch of drunken Navaean aren’t a crowd I’d like to get lost in.

  I follow directly behind Raeis as he ushers a crowd of at least five hundred Navaens behind him, to the very center of the outpost’s square. A fountain of luminescent water surrounds a towering altar, the elders sitting in a circle around it.

  The Elder with the braided beard stands, barefoot in the water.

  “We are the resilient, we are the unbroken. We are unfaltering. Our conviction lies strong, the resonance of our spirits lies stronger. Navae has guided you, and I, and our people for centuries.” The Elder starts, raising his hands to the starry night.

  “On the night of the blue moon, we gather in celebration of Navae, and the fruits of her love– but this does not come free. Love must be earned, and trust gained. Favors are not free, and words are but wind.” The Elder says to the silence of the crowd. Nobody has dared to make a sound.

  A chilling sensation coats the air I breathe and raises the hairs on my neck. Something isn’t right.

  I need to find my guild.

  I close my eyes and listen intently, waiting for any sign of my friends, as the rest of the crowd devotes every ounce of their attention to the ceremony.

  The silence is interrupted by a muffled screaming sound, as a party of four navaen warriors escort two naked prisoners, who are blinded, battered, and gagged. They are gagged so efficiently that if the field wasn’t completely silent, I’m not sure we’d be able to hear a single muttering.

  What is happening?

  The warriors escort the two pale men directly to the front of the altar, where a lump of rock engraved with glowing scribes greets their necks. They swiftly subdue the prisoners to the rock with a tight rope, and join the rest of the crowd.

  The two desperately attempt to escape the rope, their chipped teeth desperately chewing at the cloth in their mouths. I can’t understand them, but I know what that wetness around their blindfolds is.

  This is a difficult sight. I need to leave. I turn around to embark to find my guildmates, but I'm stopped by a hand on my shoulder.

  Raeis stands, his face suddenly very intense. His touch is cold. He looks past me.

  “You must witness, Home-lander.”

  For a moment I consider running, but I know the hand on my shoulder could be the very one to end my life here and now. I comply, and turn back around.

  Another elder stands up.

  “We have been persecuted, slaughtered, defiled. Our people have been subject to unfiltered malice. When all this death and destruction searches for a home, we banish it to its place of origin.”

  Another elder stands, only two remain seated.

  “A treacherous poison stains the legacy of our people, of our lands. Our very traditions lie at stake– due to the cruelty of the Ministry’s false Prophets.

  The second to last elder stands. My stomach starts to sink.

  “These two vessels of cruelty, of hatred, of Ministry, sit before us, humbled by the perseverance of our people. Our ferocity is equal to none. Our enemies buckle beneath the might of Navae, and the might Navae gives our people. These two are veterans of the Ministry, who have slaughtered our people like livestock. They wish to eradicate us.”

  The final elder rises, ominously, manifesting a heap of cruel ice into a jagged blade. My heart starts pounding.

  He lifts the glacial sword into the sky, almost piercing the moon that illuminates the altar.

  “NAVAE! We denounce deceit, malice, and hatred. We ask that you cleanse these foul shells of their sins, and return them to the song, along with the lives they have taken.” The Elder walked up to the stone, and the two prisoners.

  “FOR NAVAE! He screams, winding his blade back.

  But before it meets their neck.

  Pop.

  His head explodes into a cloud of red mist as blood, bone, and brain matter splatter across the altar in an instant painting of gore. The sound is deep and thundering. For a moment I think it has deafened me, then I realize that the clearing is still just as silent as it was before. As his lifeless body falls limply to the floor, a dark man appears out of the shadows directly behind him, cackling.

  “For the Ministry.”