-0657 Military Hours, 23rd Of April
-Tartarus Base

A hue of yellow shines through, stirring me from the slumber that once held me captive. Opening my eyes, the soft glare becomes apparent as I turn away from it, relishing in the serenity afforded by the early morning.

I nuzzle into the fabric of the bed, enveloped in its softness with a sigh parting my lips. It was just like before the war, where the silence would serve as my companion, and where my troubles could be cast off into the forgotten blue, destined to arise only when I deem it so.

Keeping these thoughts faithfully close to my heart, I reminisce of the simpler times before I left home, a smile trudging on the corners of my mouth. A distant warmth surges through with each passing memory, where in spite of the people I know being so far away, I hold onto them tightly.

This everyday hope that glimmers regardless, just like the stars I am so fond of. It is this feeling of longing that I so clearly emphasize with the Humans.

All of them were Husbands, Wives, and certainly more. They are special to those they've left in that world of theirs, but I don't know how... only they do. Come what may, but if fate is cruel enough, they will need to cast aside the memories of those they hold dear.

No amount of longing will ever bring the Rift back to its iridescent glory. My pity for them is well rooted in understanding. The portal to a world beyond, an allure they could not ignore, even if it meant forsaking their own for the forbidden fruit that has long since withered to an unrelenting black.

"Home," I murmur, forging inner images of the world I only knew through their words and pictures, or of moving scenes not unlike those of a messenger orb.

Earth.

They hold onto their realm of origin dearly. A world devoid of magic and spiritual energy, where there exists pragmatic nations that were built on the foundations of their elaborate contraptions, forging towering spires of metal and glass that could graze the very skies themselves.

Even more fascinating, were the largest of their land beasts being those of wrinkled grey skin, large flattened ears and a tail that seemed to sprout in place of a nose. Oswin was adamant in those creatures being hideous to gaze upon, though I for one appreciated their gentle aura.

I look around, greeted by the sight of my fellow compatriots still in deep slumber. Their faces hold the mark of peace, innocent and unmarred by the affairs of our own world for the moment.

Letting loose a yawn, I rid my silvery hair of its unkempt appearance and texture. Without much need to be well groomed, I opt to merely comb my fingers through the restless mane, taming them to fall over my left shoulder in a neat bundle of white.

Despite the endeavor, rogue strands stubbornly cling to my face, refusing to fall in place, the result of a night's worth of tossing and turning it would seem. Without a thought, I move a hand to tuck the offending strands behind my ears, making myself presentable at long last.

I shake my idle thoughts away, placing renewed focus on what awoke me in the first place. Looking to the rays of light that came through the window, I anchor my sights on the mountain ridge lines in the distance, seeing the sun hesitantly peeking over its jagged edges like a shy maiden in waiting.

Just as the days before, I allow myself to be swept away by what is expected of me, weaving into the rhythm of duty with a graceful ease. I don my armor, great care taken as I fasten the many straps, with the last being those of my helmet's, the ornate metal patiently gleaming with the subtle flair of infused crystals.

Fully dressed as if for battle, I bring myself to the door bordering the hallway, offering a parting glance to Oswin and Sephra, still adrift in slumber. I leave them to their own, closing the door without a sound, my destination leading me down a flight of stairs.

Guiding myself to the outside of the building, the oncoming breeze carries with it the scent of a new day. I follow the path of crude asphalt, its grey mired with the touch of morning yellow. The short journey to the illusive Rift went along without troubles, and soon I find myself greeted with its unmistakable black.

Human Lore Savants and Euralian Prime Scholars alike push onwards with their quest, their hard earned wisdom guiding their efforts in affairs beyond my understanding.

Ancient scrolls and parchment, some more than hundreds of Starwheels old are hung proudly by the seasoned Euralians, pertaining to events that were not well known to the common folk. Because of this, I would like to believe our history harbors a few harsh secrets that were kept hidden for less than honorable reasons.

As for why the Scholars would ever need references to things of the far past, it escapes me.

I cut aside my musings as a wandering patrol of three human warriors pass by, their eyes harboring stern glints that spoke of a guarded curiosity. As if drawn to me, their attention hovers over my entire being, and I feel as though I am being judged for crimes unknowingly done. Perhaps they are right.

I keep my eyes ahead, not willing to contest their unwanted gazes and weapons. Soon enough, they pass on without so much as a greeting, and I release the breath I held dearly.

Gaze still set forward, my legs urgently bring me closer to the Rift, each step closely in line with my quickened heartbeat. The humans were numbered yes, but we Euralians, even less so here. If they wished, we would be rightfully between their claws.

They would gain nothing from stealing a victory against us, so I hope my thoughts stay as they are, and nothing else.

Amidst my musings, I spot two more humans immersed in a hushed conversation, willfully ignorant of my passing presence. They are nothing like their soldiers, and I was grateful for that.

White garbed and armed with parchments and various little trinkets, they continue on with their perplexing routine, their every word shrouded in a mist that I could not break though.

"Any changes in the last ten hours?" The one closer begins with an inquiry, shooting her eyes up to regard the man beside her.

"... picked up some slight gravitational distortions around it, centered on its 'equator'. EM Spectrum's also on the rise transitioning from SLF to VLF, reading's currently at twenty seven point four six Kilohertz."

"... that's the closest we've ever gotten to reaching the visible spectr..."

For the first time, residing in their voices is a tinge of hope, luring my eyes for a quick glance in their direction, curious as to the source of their newfound optimism.

Strangely enough there is nothing new, only their assortments of metal contraptions, still affixed to the black ropes they are greatly fond of, most certainly chanalling an unknown essence that was crucial for them to work, should my theory abide with the truth.

Clearly the humans have found a change worth noting whilst the Scholars fed the darkened Rift a sudden inrush of Esper Crystals.

The impromptu work area around it flourishes with activity, though any progress made on both sides are kept separate by the bridge that was our differing ways of research and language. It was frustrating just looking at them.

Even with necklaces infused with the rare Seal Of Understanding enchantment, no amount of artistic wordplay could ever hope to fathom the vast distance between the two groups. It was disheartening to have the efforts of our Jewel Meisters be wasted in something that proved unproductive to our cause.

Deep within myself, I constantly wondered if this is all a fruitless endeavor, and that in the end all that we stand to gain here was more insight into their way of life, to observe them with keen eyes in their moments of vulnerability.

A small yelp escapes my lips as I take a misguided step forward, tripping over a neatly hidden bundle of black rope. In a moment my senses sharpen, and with the agility instilled within me, I manage to correct my posture saving myself from a loss of pride.

"Merciful Vierra..." I affirm, feeling the warm rush of blood across my face, undoubtedly staining my cheeks with the hue of embarrassment.

The mistake evidently caught the attention of my fellow Euralians, their eyes turning to regard my arrival with an expectant look.

Amongst the hooded figures of importance, I spot a familiar person coming towards me. His seasoned eyes greet my own, and I see the expression of a man harboring great knowledge from times beyond and before my birth.

"Alone again I see," he says, a firm expression lining his wrinkled features as he stands before me. On his hands lies a finely crafted sceptre, adorned with an array of crystals, glimmering faithfully under my eyes.

I return his words with a respectful bow, to signify his greater age and knowledge over me. "As always, Elder Darmas."

A warm silence flows in shortly after as I weave in to stand beside him, turning to face the ever mysterious Rift. I stare at it, willing my eyes to peer through its black depths, only to fall short as expected. A distinct notion enters my mind as I look onto myself, questioning the worth of my presence here.

As a warrior first and foremost, there is little my skills could provide here, not with affairs that reside outside of battle. In the grand scheme of this act, what was my purpose here? It was unfair that I am here, whilst the rest of the 4th Scouting Regiment risks their lives out on the front lines and beyond.

I release a sigh, turning to the Prime Scholar with displeasure woven across my face. "Please do remind me why the Lord General deemed us important enough to be here."

Breathing life into his sceptre, he conjures an orb of pure magic in front of me, the act sudden as it is unexpected. The purity of its blue essence speaks greatly over his mastery in the art of evoking.

I observe with interest as it hovers away, as though beckoned by the promise of a purpose, my affinity sensing the vibrant energy within about to become undone.

The Prime Scholar spares me a thoughtful glance, amusement lacking entirely. "I understand your dissatisfaction, simply looking at your scouts mediating yesterday's misunderstanding," he says, only pausing to sever his ties to the orb for emphasis, its remains now bound to the winds. "It is all too apparent."

"Though there is more to your presence here," the Elder further explains,"they act like lost children, led astray from their parents, unarmed with the wisdom of the greater world. Our world. Each passing day, their desperation strengthens."

I concede to his answer, "So you've noticed as well?"

"The Rift grows ever smaller with the passage of time. The humans are starved of options, and that makes them fickle. No one can predict what they will do, some of their warriors already regard us with dangerous eyes."

A wave of unsettling cold rides up my back at the Prime Scholar's suggestive tone. The skies seemingly dimmed, grass now darkened to my sights, and I feel as though I stand before the peak of dusk-fall. Even just thinking of such an occurrence is unnerving.

"They wouldn't dare, I just don't believe they will." I vehemently disagree, placing my hopes in their words. They are neither Euralian or even birthed from our world, but I believe the worth of a promise transcends these boundaries.

"We shall see..." he replies with a dismissing tone,"the mere possibility still stands firm."

"Why... would you ever think that?" I inquire, my words lined with a hint of disbelief.

"Many Starwheels ago, I've seen it happen. A small town far north on the Melfrost Reach, the people were starving. The famine was harsh, so they had to pillage Yhunian farmsteads across the border... just to survive."

He lowers his head in shame, "I was there by happenstance, there were many things from that time I wished, I had never seen. Desperation brings out the worst in all of us."

I avert my eyes from him, now reminded of the incident that was known, even to me, as the spark that led to the sudden bitterness between our nations. I was just a child then.

"You need not say further," I stop him, not expecting our talk to be led astray to this, "you still haven't answered the question." Instant regret wells up as I say those words, knowing it could be perceived as demanding.

On the brink of offering my apologies, the chance never came as he replies, dissuading my attempt to do so. "There is a reason why you scouts are valuable here, your skills with the pencil served you well behind enemy lines. This is no different."

I fold my arms against one another, finding no faults within his words. He was right, every scout was trained for this. To observe from the shadows unseen, imprinting the scenes before us onto paper, be it a lush valley or a bastion held by our foes.

With little to say against it, I opt to remain silent, offering only a small hum to fill the silence. Perhaps there is some merit to my scouting group being here.

I have to tell myself that, to let this faith propel me onward. We continue with our eyes again anchored towards one another, my own violet against his blue, my heart beating steadily as unspoken words and thoughts pass between us.

Sensing the same request behind his eyes I finally relent, if only to honor the path of duty. "Very well, I'll try to find out where they are keeping more of these Elven Relics. No certainties however."

"Your continued efforts are valued, Ver'Elyott," The Elder replies, referring to me by honorifics, my breathing hitches for a moment. What could the Prime Scholars be possibly planning with my sketches?

The desire to question him further builds up, but I hold it back, offering the Elder my parting words, "Spirits guide you," the soft murmur of a farewell I doubt he took notice of.

I turn my back away, guided by the slow running stream that was the solace all around. With my directions affirmed, I head northwards, embracing my part in all of... this.

The journey that proved to be beyond the wildest of tales.

======
-0717 Military Hours
-Tartarus Base, Depository Module 01

"You believe they would simply let us do as we wish? They still have their limits." An uncertain voice asks, concern rolling off her tone.

I quell my thoughts, facing Myandra with furrowed brows. "We'll have to test the waters to be certain, murky as it is... I can see it. They are hiding more of those relics here."

"You've been adamant in this, more so ever since a flight of theirs returned two days ago, but this-"

"It came from the far south, and those rumors have it from across the ocean," I cement my voice with conviction, compelled to make my suspicions well known. "The poor health some of them were in, you were there as well. Weary faces, battered spirits... it springs a puzzling notion."

With all that I am worth, I believe this is tied to the enemy of our distant past. The defeated race, who's hair gleams like the gold of the sun, and eyes painted with the colour of warm pastures. I am not alone in harbouring this looming suspicion.

They are alive...

The elves are still out there, just beyond the uncharted blue. Hundreds of Starwheels have passed since the great purge on them. My warrior ancestors fought them, marched to the southern shorelines, shedding blood for reasons lost to time. Their journey could have perhaps brought them pass the striking mountain peaks of the Fredgal Alps, where I stand.

After this long voyage of time, do they still hate us? I must forge onward to find the answers, if only for closure and nothing else.

To the sides of my vision, the gentle ascent of the mountains comes into focus, a firm backdrop to the building just ahead. Warm suspicion flows readily into my blood as human warriors and lore savants alike stop to gaze at us.

Since the day of landing, it remains under an air of secrecy, distant from the rest of the human fortress, as though an unwelcome addition to the greater whole. Knowing the humans however, such a notion lacks proper judgement. There is undoubtedly more to it.

No taller than three persons high, and standing with its back against the ascending slopes of the Fredgal Alps, the unassuming build falls under my watchful eye as I close in on it. Like a hunter regards its prey, I push on without regret, undaunted in my task.

Not deterred by the approaching warriors, I stop just before them, keeping my staff at the ready, though never for the intent to strike. They would keep their word, as will I.

"Stop, don't proceed any further." The lead warrior with the three arrowed insignia suddenly decrees, though I take no surprise from it, already expecting such a response. I can bravely assume by the tone itself that he wishes for the both of us to not take a step further.

I look amongst them, hoping to spot one within their ranks with a necklace of gleaming yellow. There are none within my sights. They did not expect any Euralian to wander the outskirts, and it shows through their body language, with some shifting to the prelude of a battle stance, if their postures could even be considered as one.

Affirming my intentions, I take not a step back even as a knot forms in my chest. Can't they see we are here to help? It is the only thing they really need to take heed of.

I offer my hand to them, gauntlet encasing my outstretched fingers from their prying eyes, the layer of steel masking the slight tremble that came with performing such a daring act.

Cold sweat breaks through my skin at their continued oath to silence, my attempt at emulating their customary greeting only succeeding in raising their guard.

Adrift in the waters on how to connect to these men, I withdraw my hand back to the side. They are like me, trained for battle, instilled with the skills to fight beyond their own self. The bulwark between us resides not with the differences in our armor, but rather in our own upbringing.

"You need to let us through," I say with a determined voice, allowing the weighted tone a chance to pass forward the message unto their ears.

Unmoved by my declaration the four warriors remain in place, unified in posture and expression, not a hint of interest evident from head to feet. They stand as an impassive barrier against our approach, much like a gate would to unwelcome guests.

I center my eyes on the apparent leader as he strides towards me, appearing so certain in his footwork. The veil of odd tension unravels as the armed human stops just shy of my reach, shaking his head in denial, face carved to reveal no emotion as his eyes sat firmly on mine.

Myandra voices out her thoughts, sounding thoroughly unconvinced from my side. "This will never work, they don't seem to desire any of us near this place."

As much as I treasure my pride, I have to admit its downfall. "Sadly."

"I will take my leave. Astel still needs to be groomed. Send an Illuminary flair up if you are in danger, we'll come right away," Myandra places a hand on my shoulder, earnest in her worry as I regard her words with a nod.

"I will," I answer back, accepting that only I will remain for this endeavor. "Let's hope it does not come to it."

The weight of her hand leaves my shoulder, her measured footstops soon trailing off, growing weaker until it is consumed by the ambient morning hyme, quiet as it is.

Alone to my thoughts, the task at hand seemed insurmountable. Suspicions that are in desperate need of clarity remain locked away, and the illusive tendencies of the humans riles up a large flair of annoyance within the dark of my heart.

Just as a battle rages within on whether to continue or concede on this endeavor, I perk my head up to spot the approach of a small crowd of five, led by an aged women. Draped in a calm demeanor, she catches my gaze with an expression that offers a vague glimpse into her soul.

Meagan Pierce...

A name as foreign as her appearance, the one who commands all in this fortress.

Blackened hair with tinges of grey, she carries herself firmly as the Matriarch, escorted on both sides by her warriors. An important figure, one of the few instances I've seen where, just like us, their women rightfully hold positions of importance.

I have her attention, and she, mine. As surprising as it is for the human Matriarch to concern herself here, it is overshadowed by a wave of relief when I notice the presence of an Euralian necklance around her neck.

This alone makes her intentions clear as day, and I quickly gather the strength to ferry the urgent thread of words past my lips.

"Greetings Matriarch," I address her, a hand clench over my chest in traditional salute. "I have no intentions to bring about a demand, but I must ask this once. For permission to enter this place."

Casting a serious gaze at her, my narrowed focus enlightens me to a slight shift in the women's aura as she motions her warriors to stand aside, a wide berth left in their wake.

"Concerning that-"

"Ma'am..." One of the warriors rudely speaks out, mouth and nose covered with a neat lining of black silk, "the contingancy is still in effect. With all due respect, I have to remind you this could be taken as-"

"I'm know what this could be considered soldier," she rebukes him without turning away from me. "But given our options, it's hardly relevant right now. I'm willing to bend the rules."

".... understood, just making sure you're aware Ma'am," he answers, with syllables that have become a constant to my ears in the past few days. Strange and yet familiar now.

At a brief lost on the unexpected turn of events, I make my confusions known, nerves prickling at the uncertainties her statement might bring. This is between me, and evidently her. She must be made aware that more needs to be done.

"I feel... the need to say this, your rules for us leaves much to be desired still. In this veil you set between us, we can only do so much to help."

"Regardless, I await your decision," I shift focus back unto the matter at hand, hopeful of my chances but remaining humble, "what ever it may be." My intentions have always been true, with my only wish being it is conveyed through my words and posture.

"Granted," she says, a single word weighted with significance. So noble is the fire in her eyes, I'm left without doubts on this being a lie.

"For the sake of cooperation, I'll make this an exception. It's time your people know fully about them," the Matriarch explains, upholding a stern posture, her shoulders seemingly weighted down by things beyond my entitlement know.

"The various relics?"

"Specifically... who made them."

"We already have a suspicion on who they are," I tell her, taking a step closer in brewing interest, revealing a dark part of Euralian history to the human matriarch.

Relics from a distant time, left behind by their creators, aging gracefully ever after, until they were found by the humans upon the forgotten ruins of what were once proud, bustling elven city ports. The terrible purge against them, now just a faded memory from within the depths of written history.

I recount as much as I can whilst we went inside, my attention slowly drifing towards the myriad of artifacts around, all of it undoubtedly forged by Elven hands. There are those who questioned why it ever happened, including me.

"... we destroyed their city ports, with the intention of eradicating their kind. Every, last, one of them. Even... down to their children." I stop, a frown weighing down my lips from going further.

"That, explains a lot," she whispers, tone drifting away in self thought.

I feel a mournful ambience take over my being as I set my gaze upon one relic to another, each holding a story that could never be told. A surge of emotions run through me, prickling at my heart like blades without form. Some undoubtedly are ancient, beyond the realm of written history, whilst a few remain shimmering, unscared by the passage of time.

Some of them are familiar, and I recognize these to be the ones that came from the flight of two days prior.

"By the Herald... so they did survive," I gasp, placing a hand over my lips to mask my surprise. Cold sweat erupts on my back as I take in the knowledge, understanding the weight of it.

How long were the humans dealing with the remnants of Elven civilization? Would they judge all Euralians harshly now, knowing the misdeeds of our ancestors against them?

"And doing well from what we've seen. We know it to be a fact because of that mission we sent across the ocean. There's an huge Island chain far south."

Is that so...

Rendered speechless, the true face of their secrets are revealed. In this newfound clarity, away from the shallow farce of secrecy, the truth stands unmasked and free.

This was what Jerome and his elites are facing, the reason why there were whispers of humans venturing across the ocean, compelled by the unknown, far from the rest of their kin.

Though her explainations did much to lift the veil, a troubling notion still remains.

With a hint of trepidition, I ask, "Your flight harboured a few injured, I assume they were attacked?"

"Yes... still don't know exactly why," she answers, a sigh parting her lips, "I was hoping you could shed some light on who they are."

I shake my head in dismissal, darting my eyes to the ground. "Your hopes are misplaced, I only know of them through folklore. Stories of the old, and history scribes, that's the extent of my knowledge with the Elves. All that I know, I've already shared."

"Noted," the Matriarch answers, hasty in her mannerisms. "I have to report this so I'll be leaving. Don't remove or touch anything, that's all I ask from you. That being said, feel free to take a look around."

"I will abide by that." I emphasize my words with a salute, hand on chest with a slight bow through the act, strict movement just as the humans do with theirs. It is always intriguing to observe the way these people word their sentences, sharp and concoise, an apt reflection of who they are.

With no more barriers standing against me, I bring forth the materials from within my field satchel in preperation to draw. I choose the most alluring of the artifacts, favouring the larger ones until my eyes rest upon a statue of the Crystal Herald herself.

It is old beyond measure, its crystal sculpted in Vierra's likeness with a few odd differences, beautiful even when faded. It will do nicely.

-------
-Written on the 55th day of Summer, Starwheel 509th

Throughout my days here alongside the humans, there is always something I would learn about them, be it their rigid customs or one of their guarded secrets.

With the blessings of the Human Matriarch by the name of Meagan Pierce, I was given enlightenment into more of their secrets. Much like a Shell Scuttler would readily grasp at things not theirs, the humans did so with the relics of our once enemies.

The greatest of these would be a revered statue crafted in the likeness of our Goddess Vierra. Forged from an ancient class of Esper crystal, its faded blue could be mistaken for that of an ocean's.

The image above has been drawn to the best of my skills, and encapsulates the divinity, and royal finesse of the Crystal Herald with a hint of Elven architecture. One could only wonder how beautiful it must have looked without the slow scars of time.

The scribes were correct after all, they are the original followers of the Herald's faith. Noble founders of a religion that has since been adopted into our beloved culture for many generations.

For what our ancestors did to them, I believe the light of forgiveness will always be beyond our reach. The human intervention with the Elven survivors is only a reminder that we best keep our distance from them.

It is the least we could do, lest we tear open old memories of that horrible time.

Inora Ver'Riya, 4th Euralian Scout Regiment, 21st Royal Cohort, The Prideful Solace Detachment

----

With my opinions concluded on paper, a sense of melancholy washes through me, driving my thoughts astray.

After a moment of hesitation, I lift my hand up with every intention to touch the crystal figurine. The urge is there, stemming from a primal curiosity.

The ones who made this was gifted beyond measure, I can see the love and effort shining through, even in its crumbling state. My fingers draw closer, wanting to feel the touch of a culture unknown to my memory.

I earnestly want to, though the words of the Matriarch holds me back from completing the act. I loath the restrains against us, but above all, I will value the promise of another's before anything else. My sense of honor reels my fingers away from the ancient statue, arms placed back to my side, a lonely silence filling the sobre room of dull grey hereafter.

The feeling of parchment rubbing against my fingers drives me to stow away my report into the field satchel, making certain to tighten the main straps.

The task is complete, and questions, somewhat fulfilled with answers. Content with my findings, I head outside, feeling the wind ride along my face with the touch of warmth as blue skies and untainted clouds come into focus.

I look up, eyes squinting at the glare above. The sun has now arisen to peak overhead, its steady ascent now giving way to a gentle fall towards the western sky.

Tracing my steps back towards the Rift, I offer my parting respects to the warriors who once stood against me, even recieving a cordial nod from one of them much to my surprise. I repay the gesture with a smile, warm and natural like the sun's focus on the land before moving onwards.

Behind that hardened shell of theirs, is a person. They try so hard to appear cold and distant, masking their faces and emotions with such dutiful effort that it is often hard to truly discern who they are beneath.

Myandra may be right about him after all. Elite warrior or not, a soft heart of good can reside in anyone.

I chuckle at myself in amusement, as fitting for her far reaching experience as a Seeker, she could discern Jerome's noble frame of mind and what he stands for. She says him to be loyal to the cause, someone with the spirit to lead others into the fray, a mind sharp as a spear's lethal end.

Truth be said, I find these qualities to be undeniably attractive. How could I not?

And though my interactions with the Elite warrior are sparse, often leaving little insights into his stance as a person, I agree with Myandra's impression of him.

Familiar voices pull me out of my musings, stopping my thoughts from wandering further. I look up, seeing my two companions alongside the Prime Scholars, a perturbed expression shared between them.

"What is the matter?" I ask them, wanting to know the cause of their unease.

"The human matriarch revealed the truth behind the relics, of their intrusive affiars with the Elves," Sephra steps forward, answering almost immediately with an urgent look on her face.

"Of that, I am aware. I was the first to be told."

Oswin joins in with a steady voice, casting his eyes to the side, "Because of that, the Scholars are pondering on sending a messenger orb to Drossal tonight. The city will no doubt send the news back to the capital. The Inquisitory League, as well as Her Highness, Queen Ayleth will be informed of our findings today."

"This will certainly draw more attention to the humans," I say out loud, thinking on what would happen should they know. As I ponder on this, a reminder of yesterday's events creep onto my thoughts, replayed in swift succession.

"We were supposed to send a messanger orb every two days, I could be mistaken but I am sure you evoked one yesterday."

"I did... however," Sephra replies, eyes hopping over to Oswin.

"They deemed this important enough," he answers in her steed, eyes prevalent with conviction. "Thus they plan to after duskfull arrives."

"I see."

If the Scholars are adamant on this, they surely intend on revealing first and foremost, the knowledge of the Humans and their dealings with the Elves.

An ocean away, an oasis of land across the endless blue, and through unknown means they found them. And they were driven away.

This is something worth telling, though I believe it is not our right to do so. Regardless of my opinions, I trust the Prime Scholars in their judgement.

I have to...

Heaving a sigh, I turn my focus back to my surroundings, joining my companions on their current task ahead after murmuring an apology of my absence prior.

The day marches on to duskfall, blue skies slowly giving way to a fading orange as cold winds bellow throughout the vale. Tethered to strings atop a system of metal poles, the human's metal lanterns come to life, enveloping their fortress in a uniform shade of white, revealing a scene reminiscent of when I once scouted the fortress from the safety of the mountains.

It's hard to believe we once called them Skirmishers in place of their real names not many days prior. We learnt so much since then, all of it birthed from the dark void said to have once stood in a myriad of colours.

======

-24th of April 2046, 1200 Hours UTC
-Earth, Undisclosed News Network

".....in what many believe is a prelude to civil war, diminished resources have locked several countries into a state of total anarchy as international relief efforts continue operations inspite of the recent insurgent attacks in Tanzania's capital resulting in the death of seven.

In response to the situation, local Government forces have been placed on high alert as UN led troops were dispatched from Brazil and the UK in an attempt to deal with the ongoing insurrection, though some have expressed concerns for the soldiers citing a parellel to the Bahir Dar ambush three months ago.

With average temperatures across the African subcontinent reaching record highs at 44.3 degrees celsius, experts believe the continent will eventually be rendered mostly inhospitable to human habitation by the end of the 21st century.

This falls in line with current projections of Global Warming seen in recent years, raising concern across social media platforms to a level not seen since the emergence of the last pandemic.

This is David Thompson, thank you for your attention..."

===end===

For all the emotions it brings, love anchors you down. A burden shared with a lover, a destiny as old as time.

A beautiful tale it is to be woven into, yet tragic it will be should the bond break.

Till death do souls part, never forever it is, even as their love burns brighter than a hundred stars.