A World Away

The bird fell to the ground, soundless and dead before it touched the forsaken earth. A pale arrow pierced it’s chest, white plume darkening with blood as it’s body gave one last twitch.

A shame really. The Silver Wings were a very beautiful species, one of the few that managed to survive in these lands. Touched with magic, a little bit more than those born here, it survived the Cataclysm and continued to do so despite the sudden incline of predators that were without much to eat.

Remarkable they were, but a man needed to eat and so Eskil snatched it up, placing it’s warm body into his game bag. The second one today. As much as he was willing to shoot down for the week.

Enough to keep him alive until the next one.

With the little vegetation he managed to grow and the rations sent to him by the Griffin Outpost living out here was manageable, however on days like this, when his bad leg acted up in response to the shorter days and longer nights, Eskil looked upon the landscape with ire.

Even after all these years the fell beauty of the Silverwood always took his breath away. A constant reminder of what had occurred six hundred hundred years prior. It was living history. His grandmother had been alive then, an abyssal knight pledged to the throne forever more. Still was even after it’s fall. She alone could remember what the forest once looked like. Silver still, but ever changing. Ever growing.

Not at all dead and haunted.

Rubbing a gloved hand alongside his thigh to stimulate heat the old man looked around with a critical eye. Thoughts distracted by the stinging ache that ran up his hip and down to his heel, the slight limp that was further aggravated by the uneven trails, he had to be more aware of his surroundings.

The wildlife may be slow to migrate back into the Silver Forest, but a few daring risked to enter the cursed wood and battle with wraiths and lone hunters alike. They’d take a swipe at him if they could.

Especially with winter coming.

Trekking back to the lone road Eskil wandered on for a few minutes, keeping careful watch over the fog that clung to the white ground. The rolling land -shattered from past impacts, remnants of black stone still visible beneath the ash and snow- went on for miles and miles and sometimes ran meters deep. Plenty of places for something sinister to hide in.

He continued on until a cross roads appeared. The near nonexistent trail led into the wooded depths and at it’s end a dark crumbling husk amidst the bowing trees.

“Almost home,” he muttered, digging his staff into the earth as he diverged from the road, taking extra care not to trip over the knotted earth. Reaching the cottage was a hassle, one that he debated every time he made his way towards it. His attention further divided to keep from falling, his back exposed and hands busy with keeping balance.

An unwise distraction.

Fool, he thought, as he always did when visiting.

More cottages came to being, popping into existence like stars during the gloaming hour. These parts were littered with the remnants of civil life, simple living. Crumbled village homes that stood as grave markings for the souls who hadn’t made it out in time.

Who were claimed by the Cataclysm.

He pushed his way into the cottage, squeezing through a narrow crack that grew wider every year. No doubt this cottage was once a pleasant place. Warm and inviting, not something he typically associated his grandmother with. The passing centuries may have done a number to it, but it was still a place of roots to him. He could imagine laughter filling it, hearty smiles that had no place in a dreary atmosphere such as this.

A poor place to be resting in. For eternity.

The second floor had collapsed, not leaving much room to navigate through. However upon her return his grandmother had put in some work, pushing aside the rubble until she had cleared the living space. Brushing aside the collecting fog with a wave of his hand a small hill of rocks appeared, stacked as neatly as uneven rocks could be.

“There we go,” he said, taking a large piece from a wayward sack at his hip and placing it upon the growing cairn. “That should do. I’m afraid there’s nothing bigger in the Grove to give you. Better than nothing at least.”

At least you showed up, coward.

His grandmother had promised him that upon her death her spirit would return to the home she had forsaken in favor of the court. He imagined her beside him, watching as he paid respects to the great-aunts and uncle he had never met, always surprised that he showed up to even do so.

One bad deed, a moment of weakness on the battlefield and that was what she would always see him as. A coward.

Long ago she had come to properly bury her children and since his arrival forty years prior Eskil would continue to build the cairn whenever he was able. The small bones far beneath the earth, still wrapped in one another’s arms in an embrace that would last eternity.

“Be at peace,” he whispered to them. The loss of them, the loss of everything had no doubt turned her grandmother cold. The last of her order, left to endure the unending years alone… It must have been hell. He hated her, just as much as he loved her. Eskil hadn’t been able to do much for her when she was alive, but now…

Now he could at least do this.

Lapsing into a reserved silence that eased the weight of some burdens from his shoulders Eskil departed from the cottage several minutes later, ascending back up to the path with the memories of his grandmother fresh upon his mind.

Like an old wound raised up and occasionally picked at.

Not many lived here and that was fine with him. It meant fewer people to happen across. Fewer people to put their noses into his business and his past. He never did like the crowds or sharing a space with comrades in his days at the gentry. Content with being on his own, a lone wolf like his grandmother, Eskil didn’t mind solitude.

It only seemed that when faced with the memories of death did he yearn for the presence of another. Someone to walk alongside him in the Silver Forest, someone who would speak back to him; unlike the wispy specters who hovered upon their abrupt graves and replayed the last seconds of their lives over and over again. Someone far more agreeable than the hungry wraiths that roamed the forest, starving for souls and lusting after life and occasionally trying to make him their next victim.

With a soft groan he pulled himself up the incline and as one foot set down upon the path an explosion erupted overhead. Head snapping upwards he was astonished to see a brilliant silver star barreling towards the earth, tendrils of green echoing after.

“By the Gods,” Eskil shouted, stumbling backward as his mind rapidly tried to process what was happening. It’s been two centuries since any debris of notable size had fallen from the ether. Long enough for those to return to the land without dread of being killed by falling rock.

Fearful that it would be his bones buried beneath a newly born creator Eskil watched the rock’s progress, seeing it shoot across the sky…

…and vanish.

Heart pounding he began to furiously rub his eyes, even going as far to pinch his himself afterwards. Did that truly just happen? Was the fog playing a trick upon him? Or had he been bespelled with madness? He had quite a few enemies still kicking around-

Another explosion arced across the sky, no different than the last save for the speed in which it rushed towards the ground and once more is vanished a second later. Again and again, faster and faster, Eskil could see now that it wasn’t coming from the sky, from the horizon between this world and the dark space beyond. It was piercing threw the air from Elsewhere.

“A portal,” he breathed.

He’d never seen once so massive before and what sort of idiot would perform magic in the middle of such a cursed place? The wraiths would be on them before they took one step away from their blasted academies.

Eskil ceased his cursing, watching as an immense green storm pulsed within the air, flashing silver flickering rapidly and bathing the forest in shadow and light. Slowly the arrowhead of chaos speared towards the ground and the air around him began to vibrate, smelling of earth and salt.

It was commonsense not to portal to the lands of the Silver Court and not even the fiercest or most arrogant of magic users would dare to travel here by such means. Not unless they had no other choice.

Smelling trouble upon the horizon Eskil watched the spectacular sight before him dip behind the treeline. Though nothing changed upon the landscape and it remained a cold barren waste he could sense a shift in the air. A ripple that cascaded through the forest, felt more by the remnant beings than someone with warm blood and a beating heart. His wasn’t the only attention drawn to the occurrence in the sky.

Quickly brandishing his staff Eskil needed only an iron thought of will to bring the gloaming stone upon it’s head to life. It was a crystalline gem of dark blues and purple with sparks of fiery orange flashing deep within it’s complexities like hidden flame. No visible light could be seen, not by those of his kind.

But the wraiths could see and be touched by it.

Tortured by it’s mere presence they would stay away from him, most even fleeing. The staff was not the only gift given to him by the Rangers and while he debated upon spending it the distant sounds of fast movement reminded him that not all were fortunate enough to have the Gifts of Rhena with them. He may not serve the realm as a soldier anymore, but he still abided by the vows he had made half a century prior.

Taking out a small silver feather from his breast pocket he twisted it around his with his fingertips, the faint glow of illuminance still present upon it. A thread of magic, just a pinch. He was a fighter in heart, never willing to learn magic more than he needed to, but he wasn’t a fool enough to turn away help when it was freely offered.

The feather vanished, it’s spell spent and hopefully the Rangers would heed his call for help. A giant portal in the sky was beyond him and even as he began to follow it’s descent he silently prayed to any higher being that willing to aid him.

The Rangers may come to resolve the issue, but it was up to him to ensure no lives were lost in the meantime.