Jon stared out towards the shore as he hauled the last tender aboard the ship. The rain was still falling on their fourth day here, and though Arjiah was living like a goddess, dancing and swimming in the rain like it was her very own heaven, the water was beginning to wear on him. A twang of homesickness struck him as he thought of his cats, and Mary's cooking, and his spot in an armchair by a welcoming hearth. He rubbed his shoulder with a sigh.

It no longer hurt him, but the memory remained. Still he found his sleepless evenings plagued by thoughts of the mark, and Brazen's strange fate. All in all, Brazen's life had taken a turn for the better, or rather existent but he still worried over his actions, and their complications. He often pondered what might have happened if his idiocy in making strange deals for this ship, had left them without Brazen, for good.

He worked with the dwarves until every last knot was tied, and heaved a sigh, as he finished dropping restocked crates of food below the deck.

Arjiah laid a hand on his shoulder, "Are you alright? You're working a lot harder than you normally do."

"I'm fine," he said, rather gruffly. "Do... do you think they will be?" He spared one last glance to the shore.

"Of course," she said. "They know what they're doing."

Her tone held so much conviction that Jon's worries diminished in an instant and were replaced by an urge to hug her. He knew that Fykes liked to roam, and knew well the toll that traveling so far could inflict, and he knew that Katerin was smart enough to maneuver Fykes out of any trouble he found. With the rest of their friends, they would be fine. They would not be on a continent the world had not even bothered to map in hundreds of years, if they were not sure of themselves and their purpose. "You sound quite convinced."

Arjiah let out a soft chuckle. "Well, they can make their own decisions. I will worry for them, but I will not doubt them. Are you ready to go home?"

"Oh, I spose' so." He winked. "Don't have much of a choice, now."

"You could always flee the ship, and live out your days on the shore."

"I'd die from the lack of a good drink, and there aren't nearly enough ladies here." He shook himself, and took a step away from the rails, as the Mynyrri's sails unfurled behind him. "I'm sure I've got a job to do, somewhere."

"Me, too. I'm hoping the two of us are enough to hold the winds in our favor, though," Arjiah said, with a glance to Moki, as the Meadalark called her.

Jon offered her his best encouraging grin. "We'll sail around a bit, find an easier crossing. The last one was made out of the pressure of desperation. And besides... you're forgetting who it was that got all our sorry asses to Itrea, in the first place."

"That was hardly just me, and the Current was minimal."

"Modesty is your worst flaw, my friend." Jon patted her shoulder.

"Or is modesty just a life long enemy of yours?" Arjiah gave him a toothy grin, as the ship lurched forward and she turned to heed the call of the Windrunner and her duties.

Fykes let out a sigh as he coaxed their small campfire back to hesitant life. They had been traveling for five days now, and as the skies grew ever darker they had settled under the trunks of giant mushrooms, seeking the driest land they could. The trees had slowly given way to this forest of mushrooms, though it had not made traveling any easier, and navigating was now another problem. For the caps could block all but a sliver of the clouds above, and climbing the mushrooms was somewhat like climbing and artfully made stack of daggers. The bark of the mushroom's stalks was a strange and living metal, sharp as any knife he had ever seen. Dry ground unanimously won out over the prospect of a few small cuts, however, and most everyone was quiet and contemplative as they went about their tasks.

An air of unease had settled over them as the excitement and wonder had slowly worn down, giving way to endless claps of thunder. Though, the rain and hazardous plant life was not all that made him uneasy, as his companions settled in for the night. They had found few snags in their plans, and their map had been mostly accurate despite Katerin's endless worry over how much they might trust it. They had encountered nothing dangerous so far, and that was what truly made him nervous. The enormity of this place and its wild nature reminded him of his early explorations of Itrea, but here nothing had yet tried to kill them.

The wildlife was rather uninterested in their presence, and he worried immensely. In such a wild place, he still waited for an angry predator or some other such calamity. He felt as though there were eyes watching him at every moment, and he wondered where those eyes watched from.

And even if people were rare, he would have thought to see some sign of a community by now, if there was one. They had gone to shore at the easiest place within miles, and following that logic, had there been any other people, they should have found them by now.

The woods began to thin in their next few days of travel, and still they were not threatened by a thing. Even the flowers here reminded them how small they were, with petals large enough to cover even Trunk entirely. His sketchbook was filling up rather quickly, but despite the beauty of the place, things grew tense. It was cold, wet, and lonely. Over the days of travel the opinion grew that maybe there were no other people to be found here, and that thought was surely a sobering one.

Katerin walked near the back of the group, glancing over her shoulder every few minutes. Today had left her feeling strange, and she kept wondering if there might be something behind her. She knew better now, than she had when she first encountered the forests of Itrea, and it was no instinct of unfamiliarity that kept her eyes sharp. Every time she looked, following that glimpse of movement from the corner of her eye, there had been nothing. She steadied her breath, and shook herself. Seven days of nothing is better than seven days of trouble. The day wore on, and her unease did not fade. They had not been fortunate enough to find any mushroom or tree to camp under, this night, so their oiled canvas tarps were strung from a large boulder to the marshy ground.

She dropped her meager armful of dry sticks to the ground. Fykes pulled her to the log he was sitting at, as he stirred a pot full of food to hopefully ease the chill from her bones.

"See anything interesting?"

"Nothing. Not even enough fuel for the fire."

"You act as if the lack of dry fuel is a terrible thing," Trunk said. "But we do not need the fire."

"Speak for yourself," Roahn said, holding her fingers above the flame that was struggling to survive.

"It is almost as if you all wish for trouble," Trunk said, to which Huen nodded and grinned.

"I think they enjoy it."

Katerin snorted. "I just expect it. Everything on Itrea put me on edge."

Roahn grinned. "Makes sense, considering who you travel with." She threw another stick onto the flames and stretched her arms. "You ever going to tell us what all happened over there? I know you're a famous lady and all that. But you never have told us why. The way they look at you in Rastridge is a feat."

"I don't see why it's so damn important," Katerin said. Her tone too sharp for even her to believe the lie she tried to tell herself, that she had no qualms with it. "It has nothing to do with our current... adventure."

Roahn blinked, giving her a look of disbelief. "Alright... my lady. Whatever you say."

Katerin worked to keep the glare from her face, and took a breath to calm her fears. She did not catch the look on Fykes' face, nor the worry in his eyes.

They ate their meal in silence, and drank little of their mead, each of them dreading what might happen if they should run out of supplies here. The rain never quit, and lulled them into a dreary yet restful sleep.

*

Even Brazen, who had been tasked with keeping watch, had fallen prey to the soft and lulling sounds around him, and had drifted from his watch.

And that was the strange thing about the creatures that called this place home. The rain and thunder was a shroud to them. They could hide amongst a clap of thunder and step with the same softness of the falling rain. They could watch through the eyes of the wind, and hunt with a timeless patience.

*

Roahn awoke to a terrible pain in her stomach, as a foot slammed into her, stealing away her breath. A flash of lightning split the sky, and she saw a huge and twisted form above her, swinging down with a club as her fingers searched for her weapon. She rolled to avoid the blow, and kicked the creature in the knee, with an anger only fear could offer. "Wake up!" she roared, as she heaved herself to her feet.

She heard the sounds of the sleeping people around her, as she found her feet, and swung her hammer towards the creature. Her blow swung too wide, and the creature snarled. She brandished her weapon and parried the next blow, staggering under the force of its swing.

*

Katerin awoke to a roar of anger, to see the glint of a blade arcing for her. She snapped her fingers, and a barrier of magic sprung into place around her shattering as the blade bounced off it, a scream caught in her throat, she grasped her staff and appeared, standing, only a few feet from where she lay sleeping. She saw the rest of her companions scrambling to their feet, and witnessed six creatures, large and bulbous as they attacked.

*

Brazen awoke in a panic, trying to summon his weapons to his hands. When it inevitably failed, he pulled his axe from the dirt beside him, his hands shaking and grip slippery. He could have sworn he was just watching the shadows beyond the camp. Had he truly fallen asleep? He charged through the muck with bare feet to chop into the creature looming over Roahn. His axe sliced up its thigh, and it turned in a savage fury to swing its club down upon him. Without his shield, he raised his weapon to block and did so poorly, so that the club smashed into his shoulder. The pain that wracked him brought tears to his eyes, and stopped his breath.

*

Trunk tripped as he tried to evade the swing of an axe, catching himself on his hands and knees. He spoke an incantation under his breath, and a boom of thunder of his own creation sent his attacker sprawling away, where Fykes met it with his blade. He pushed his back against a tree, and called upon the marshy ground. A writhing mass of vines sprung forth, and wrapped around the creature, leaving nothing but a swirling mass of brambles in view.

*

Fykes turned to parry another blow, and his feet made trenches in the mud as he was pushed back under the creatures might. It kicked out and caught him in the leg. As he fell his thrust his blade forward, into its stomach. It cried out, and swung a fist down at him in a wide arc.

*

Katerin's staff twirled in her hands, and she slammed it first into the creatures shoulder, then deftly up into the creatures groin. There was no fear in her thoughts. Instead, she felt focused and her worry had faded. For her dreams had been too dark for the threat of this moment to truly register.

*

Huen watched as the creature doubled over, and he bounded forward. One palm stuck the creature the neck. It dropped its weapon and attempted to swat him away. He ducked with incredible speed, kicking it in the thigh and slamming his other foot down upon its toes with all the force of a boulder.

He landed in a low crouch, one foot still extended as the creature yowled in agony, doubled over and hopping on one leg.

*

It spoke in a strange and guttural language that no one seemed to understand, and within another moment the creatures were fleeing the camp. The ones that had survived, that is. One fell free of a mass of vines, with its throat opened wide. Another two lay dead, one missing limbs, one with a concave skull.

Brazen and Roahn both moved as if to chase them, as the thunder barked again in the distance.

"Let them go," Trunk called, staring at the one before him, with its blood pooling to the soil.

"He's right," Katerin agreed, breathless. "It's the middle of the night and we are hardly dressed."

Roahn growled after them, glancing at her muddied gamebeson and feet.

"What were they, anyway?" Fykes said, cleaning his sword and glancing around with a weary gaze. He was answered with an abundance of shrugs.

"Maybe they're the locals?" Katerin said, one hand rubbing absently at her throat.

"They smelled worse than I do after a three day stint at a house of luxuries, and weren't half as friendly as a gnomish beggar," Roahn said, with a snarl.

Fykes snorted at her words. 'If they are, then our hopes of finding a few friends along this path is... unlikely. But at least we know there are other creatures here that are capable of speech."

"That was speech?" Roahn asked, with a frown.

Trunk nodded. "A dialect of the giants tongue, I think."

Katerin blinked. "I thought giant was a... more fluid language."

"It's only an approximation," Trunk said with a frown.

"We need two people on watches." Roahn said, her angry tone surprisingly fading.

Brazen lowered his head, and stepped forward. "I.. I'm sorry. I don't know what happened. I felt strange, but I didn't know I would fall asleep..."

Katerin grasped his hands and looked him over at arms length. "Are you okay?" His eyes were wide, hands shaking.

"No. I—"

"It's alright, kid." Roahn's tone was tense. "Happens to the best of us, and it'll likely happen to us again before we die."

"She is correct." Huen said. "Did you even know what tired was, before?" He wore a hesitant expression, as if unsure he should even broach the subject.

"Well, no." Brazen said, swallowing.

"Then you have nothing to worry about. Just rest before you take a watch, and you can always wake someone up," Fykes said.

"I would happily take over for you," Huen said. "I enjoy the nighttime hours."

Brazen finally let out a small smile as he turned to Roahn. "I'm not a kid. I'm older than all of you, remember?"

Roahn snorted. "Fine, oh inexperienced ancient one."

"I'm better at fishing, too."

"And I'm better at eating bananas and keeping watches, so lets call it even."

Their banter faded as Katerin moved to take the next series of watches beside Huen, and the rest made to get as much rest as they could before the effused daylight found them once again.

The next two days of travel passed them by without another incident, and all was back to the eerily calm atmosphere. It put Katerin on edge, and gave her no distraction from thoughts of her dreams, and thoughts of Lodyne. She realized with a strange amount of worry that the lack of conflict had been driving her crazy. She thought of the turmoil of Itrea, and the struggles they faced—but no longer did she yearn to return to aid them. It was futile to wish for something she would not do, after all. Her want for answers had not diminished, so she would wait and watch and search for them here.

On one particularly dreary day of travel, as they crossed hill-swept plains with cliffs and the face of the mountains now visible in the distance, they saw a lone figure on a hilltop. Their attempts to hail the figure were in vain, either unheard or unacknowledged, and after a moment of discussion they followed after with hesitant steps and hands near their weapons. When they crested the tall hill that the figure had stood upon they saw a strange sight in the evening light.

Plants grew in meticulously cultivated plots of soil that looked haphazard, with pathways that wound around and though the small plateau behind. The clearing was backed by a sheer cliff face. The strangest sight, however, was of the three cloaked individuals who worked to tend the plants. All of them covered in cloaks, and bowed to the ground.

"Hail!" Katerin called. Stepping forward to the edge of the hill.

All the figures rose in tandem, and glanced toward her, before one walked forward with casual steps, while the others retreated toward the sheer wall of rock.

A female voice boomed out from the figure who came forward, now standing back from the bottom of the hill. "If you would be willing to converse I will speak to one of you, at the bottom of the hill. If you are here to rob us, Heed my warning that you will not succeed!"

"We mean you and yours no harm!" Katerin called, and moved to step forward before a hand caught hers.

"Katerin, do you remember the lizard-folk?" Fykes asked, under his breath.

Katerin narrowed her eyes. "She wants to speak." That particular plan of hers had been a discussion more than once, and it always came up when Fykes would advocate for a more cautious approach.

"We don't know that."

"These are the first people we have seen here. It's worth the risk."

"I'll be ready," he said, releasing her hand.

Katerin had to fight her own feet as she walked down the hill. As she worked to keep her footing she realized the advantage the woman held. Should things turn violent, any attempt to rush down the muddy hill might render her friends in a mess of their own before they could ever aid her. She met the woman at the bottom of the hill with most of her dignity still intact, and noticed the scowling expression and the small darkened metal of a dagger in the woman's hand.

"If you want a fight, this is not the place for it." The woman warned.

"A fight is the last thing we want." Katerin said. "I can promise you that." She tried to gauge the woman's eyes, and took in her features. A sharp chin and nose, but soft cheeks, showing her youth, with soft brown curls peeking from her hood. "We just need some directions."

The woman scoffed. "Let me guess, you want to find the nearest port, right? I'll break this to you as easy as I can." She blinked with faux concern. "There isn't one."

"No, we know that. That's not what we're here for."

The woman balked. "You.. came here on purpose?"

Katerin nodded. "We just need a hand with navigation, but if you'd rather we left you alone we will be on our way. We didn't come to cause you any trouble."

The woman regarded her for a solid minute, blade still firmly in hand, before she sighed. "Call your companions. You might as well get out of the rain." She flashed her hand up into the air in some signal, and Katerin watched four people stand from among the plants that grew behind them, and saw yet more movement as men appeared from along the bottom of the cliff face, and began their approach.

"Do not worry, but I can't just let you walk in." The woman said.

Katerin nodded, and turn to hail her own companions. She watched with the best mask of seriousness she could as they slipped and skidded down the hill.

When each side was met they turned and were lead towards the cliff with the woman in front, the rest of the group around them in a circle, as if they were a sort of guard.

Katerin could see weapons upon them, but strangely she registered very little worry over the fact. As they approached the rocks, the woman dropped back and Katerin blinked as the escort around them simply stepped through the wall.

"It is only an illusion," the woman assured, sticking her arm part way through the wall. "No harm will meet you."

Katerin smiled. "Clever."

As they entered the cave, they all had to blink to adjust their vision. Torches and fires lit the space in a comfortable and warm glow, and warmth met them like an old friend. Their escorts dropped their wet cloaks, and hung them along a wide stretch of pegs carved from the stone, while more spoke with the woman and rolled a heavy stone gate into place, securing it behind the illusion and locking it with a series of bars and chains.

Katerin counted the bars, and studied how they worked, less out of curiosity and more out of a caution that she could not ignore. No sense in being trapped, because she had not paid attention. She caught a glimpse of Trunk. He stood stiffly, eyes darting between the various fires and torches with unease. His breathing was shaky and his hands were clasped behind his back, while he hunched lower.

She offered him a small, reassuring smile before she turned back to regard their guide. The lights stretched into the distance until they were nothing more than pin pricks, and a small village of sorts met her eyes. Pathways, domed houses built of stone and dirt, haphazard tents and lean too crafted from cloth, and rooms carved into the mountain itself caught her gaze. A number of people wove between the buildings and rooms, walking as they might in any other city.

"Welcome to Eld'Hiruma," the woman said.

Fykes whistled, and the sound echoed through the space.

"Thank you," Katerin said.

The people who had escorted them in all seemed to relax once the gates were shut, one man in similar appearance to Huen, spoke quietly.

"We will not remove you of your weapons, but please do not consider using them."

"Of course not," Fykes said.

"We will take you to meet Eld'Torkrest. The Heart of the Flame. He will decide if you can be welcomed, and if we are to aid you. If not, you will be asked to leave." The woman started forward, motioning for them to follow.

Katerin saw at least a dozen faces as they walked, all eyeing her and the group beside her with a range of expressions. Distrust, suspicion, curiosity, and even one or two kind smiles. She could not blame them for their caution. She might do the same, had she been in their position, considering the fact that they had been traveling for over a tenday, and this was the only group of people they had encountered.

She was nervous, but not the kind that made her fingers twitch for her staff. It was excitement. A thousand questions flowed through her mind about many details of this place, and it was a struggle to keep them internalized as they passed flickering torches and shrouded curious faces.

Their guide led them past a dozen tents to an arching pathway cared into the side of the cave. It wound high above the flickering torches below, and ended in sight of a large cavern entrance with thick leathers sewn together to create a door.

"Kiern, please tell the heart he has visitors awaiting him." The woman spoke and the dark skinned elf nodded and slipped past her into the curtain without a word.

As they waited, any attempt at conversation was quickly snuffed by the silence that seemed to press on them as they stood here, fiddling with their armor and cloaks.

Katerin wanted to laugh as she imagined the man explaining that there was a group of visitors, seeking directions. She assumed that visitors were rare, and even rarer in groups, especially those who had come on purpose and sought out not a safe haven, but directions towards likely more danger.

Finally, when several of Fykes' attempts at jokes and conversation had failed, a figure appeared before them, on the balcony above, wreathed in flames.

"Welcome to my home," the figure said. He stood taller than any man, with a voice that crackled like the flames that wreathed him.

Katerin opened her mouth to speak, but found no words. She had expected an elf, and would not have been surprised by a human, but this figure was neither, and her thoughts could not work fast enough to process it.