#agnes 04

It was not long before that Freydis was certain she had seen a flickering on the dimly lit horizon. In the first few moments that followed she did not trust her own senses and probed Soren to confirm if she had merely imagined it. But hours later her certainty was fortified. Weeks ago, she had spoken with Fyren about the way in which she felt the Arches or perhaps fate screamed out for her. For the past month or so, their crying out had been quieted. Now, they were deafening, and she knew their source was from within the ashen earth of her homeland.

The bracelet she wore that bound her to the Genasi who, against all odds, had become her closest confidant was alight with activity as well. It seemed Agnes was able to pack her bags even more quickly than Freydis could. Her approach was palpable through the addition senses gifted through the bracelets, and the Veil Maiden could barely refrain from departing from her cabin to meet Agnes on her journey if only to meet with her mere minutes sooner. 

Freydis did not know the next right thing to do. Should one rush to the border in an attempt to dismantle it? Ought they fortify the Wildlands after their close encounter with doom at the hands of the Kossith? Was there something to be accomplished by beseeching some other sort of elevated wisdom? Agnes may not have all the answers, but she would know the next step, especially with the looming darkness that seemed Hel bent on swallowing Avalon whole. 

When Agnes arrived at long last—any semblance of patience Freydis may have ever possessed long since exhausted as she waited in darkness on the front steps of her cabin—she rushed forward to meet the Genasi with the usual ritual of a hug. The next moment, Freydis was looking Agnes over as if she might tell precisely where Agnes came from if she merely squinted hard enough. “Where did you come from?” Freydis asked, breathless as if she were the one who had finished a long journey. “What have you learned?”