#aiani

A CrossXworlds story

© 2025 - Kevin W. Burke

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Little Aiani wiped her nose on her pants, sobbing, and looked up to plead again with her Ada to stay. But her father was already gone, footprints trailing over the sand dune. 

She panicked.

“Ada?”

The Stormcrawler answered instead, a shrill backwards shriek from over the dunes, moving towards the rogue Pocket. It was chasing her ada. 

He had ordered her to stay, to wait there. In her heart, behind the fear for Ada, she was angry at him for leaving her, for facing the Stormcrawler alone, for not letting her help him. 

She was a good girl, but she couldn’t obey him this time. She had to help him. One man couldn’t take on a Stormcrawler alone, but maybe with her Firebolt, they could fight it together. 

She ran after his tracks in the sand, her courage building as she ran. That is, until she cleared the last dune. She found the Stormcrawler hissing above Ada, far bigger than she had expected. Its tall legs were twitchy and stabbing, its spider shell crusted over with hardened lava, a ghoulish skeleton head in place of a spider’s head. 

Aiani’s courage wilted. But Ada didn’t flinch below the Stormcrawler as it targeted the spot in the sand where he sat crosslegged in front of the Pocket. He was methodically casting a ritual spell that Fire Elves in their clan used to release their elemental fire essence when they were preparing to die. 

With no village elders to contain it, Aiani knew her Ada’s fire essence would flare out, taking the Stormcrawler and the rogue Pocket with him. Ada wasn’t planning to go back to the village with her. He was sacrificing himself for her, and for the village. 

She screamed, calling after him, climbing the last dune. The Stormcrawler turned on her, stabbing at her with those deadly pointed legs. She dodged them and struck back, firing her Firebolt at it. 

It hissed angrily, but was unhurt. It returned fire of its own, and when it burned her, it also consumed some of her memories. Body and mind aflame, she cried out in agony, rolling in the sand. She was helpless against this monster. 

Before it could consume the rest of her, Ada hit it with his crossbow, making it chase him back towards the Pocket, saving her. But the delay would cost them both: A second Stormcrawler came through the Pocket, trapping Ada. 

He charged toward the Pocket anyway, running under the second monster and desperately rushing to finish his ritual spellcasting. 

Just as he finished the spell, one of the Stormcrawlers stabbed Ada clean through with an obsidian tipped leg. His fire essence erupted in his place before the Pocket, the violent burst of fire energy causing the rogue Pocket to flicker and implode. As it did, it sucked sand, fire, and both Stormcrawlers inward. The Pop! of their molten cores bursting were barely discernible over the thunderous implosion. 

Aiani couldn’t even hear herself screaming her Ada’s name as his essence was sucked away. 

And then, just as suddenly, it was deathly quiet, except for a faint whistling wind over the dunes. 

“Ada?” she whispered. Her breathing came in gasps. 

The wind blew, sand stinging her eyes.

She stood, little legs quivering, and ran towards the place where the Pocket– and her Ada– had just been. 

There was a pit in the sand, blackened at the bottom, and smoking. 

“Ada?” she cried, her voice cracking. She knew he was gone, but a part of her fought it. 

Aiani stumbled down into the scorched pit, towards a stream of smoke trailing up from the center. There was a glow down in the sand at that spot, and she reached into it, oblivious of the heat. 

She pulled out a smoke hued nugget of glass, and as she did, the glow came with it. The glass nugget had a vague flame-like shape. The glimmer inside was smaller and much more faint than the pendant her Ada had given her, the one with Nana's fire essence inside. 

But it was there. She hadn’t lost all of her Ada. 

Suddenly the wind picked up, whirling sand around her.

A voice shrieked with the wind behind her.  

“Councilor Caladstone, hand it over!” 

Aiani spun, clutching the glass nugget in her hand defensively, her long legs planted widely in the sand for stability. She calculated her Mana reserves and quickly did a mental inventory of her available spells. 

Isvarae Sivelle floated over the nearest dune in the center of a vortex of wind and sand, one hand extended from her swirling robe strands, gesturing Aiani forward. What was the Council Delegate doing here? She didn’t belong here. 

“I won’t let you take it!” Aiani shouted defiantly over the sandstorm, “I can still save it!”

“You think you’re protecting something valuable, but you’re being selfish! That will endanger all of us if it’s left to grow!” 

“This is all I have left!" Aiani cried out, tightening her grip around the glass ember. 

“You must let it go!” Isvarae demanded, a curl of her hand causing the winds to pull at Aiani, tugging the nugget loose in her grip. 

“I will save him!” Aiani insisted through gritted teeth, clenching her fist around the glass ember.  

The torrent of wind pulled at her fist, and as she tightened her grip, the ember cracked.

“You fool!” Isvarae shrieked. 

In a flash, the ember burst in her hand, and everything went white.

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A CrossXworlds story

© 2025 - Kevin W. Burke

__________

“Gallwraith is in on this too?” Lyra raised an eyebrow, skeptical.

“No, but he’s into something, ma’am,” Aiani said. “I’m still trying to figure out the full extent of it.”

“Explain.”

“Wednesday night, before my meeting with Gallwraith ended, one of his men interrupted us to whisper a message. I didn’t hear much of anything, but I caught the name of Stormweaver in the whisper.”

Isilhuine’s head jolted to attention. She also took a long look around the Council chambers and then lowered her head and her voice.

“Go on…”

“Gallwraith ended our meeting abruptly, but before he did, he dropped mention of his attention being needed on some unrest by the locals in Centrecity.”

Lyra’s eyes sharpened. “What time was this?”

“Before midnight, ma’am.”

“You’re sure you’re remembering the time correctly? And the details of his comments?”

“Crystal clear.”

“Hours before he was supposedly surprised by the attacks on his return,” Isilhuine mused. “An attack that was instrumental in swaying the urgency of Council’s vote on the Surge plan.”

“Exactly.”

Isilhuine straightened up. “What else?”

“Flint tried to corroborate the details of the attack with his contacts in the Centrecity BaseOps team. He couldn’t find any hard evidence of the casualties from the attack, and their Delegate is refusing to provide any, citing confidentiality of the surviving families. There was a list of casualties produced, although with one conflicting report– a dwarf agent on the casualties list who is very much alive… Davrik? He refused to talk to Flint and everyone else is reluctant to discuss how he ended up on the list, other than calling it a mistake.

“Oh, Council personnel went missing, alright,” Councilor Isilhuine said. “They were all low-level assets like Davrik, exactly the kind of nobodies whose absence wouldn’t be felt in operational stability or political impact. I hadn’t managed to pin Councilor Gallwraith down on producing the remains to return to their surviving families. Now we may never know.”

Aiani nodded. “Flint and I suspected as much. We speculate that either there are Council assets who are in on it with him, who gave up their identities to become casualties in name, or else he sacrificed assets to force the urgency of the vote. Either way, it gave us the impression of a man who would stop at nothing to get his way. Which is the real reason I feared for Davin’s life.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Gallwraith seemed particularly petulant about my connection to Davin on the rooftop the night we met. His disdain for Davin was palpable. And in the runup to the Surge plan there were Council Guard sentries placed on each floor of the BaseOps building. It felt like an effort to monitor my interactions with Davin.”

“There were what? I had no knowledge of this!” Isihuine said, incredulous. 

“I thought I was just being paranoid,” Aiani said. “But in the fog of war, on the night of the Surge attack, a hit team was sent to Davin’s apartment.”

Isilhuine stared at her. 

“Those are serious allegations, Aiani.”

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A CrossXworlds story

© 2025 - 2026 - Kevin W. Burke

__________

Note: The following interlude takes place between the events of Episodes 15 and 16.

TRYL NODENET ARCHIVES: AFTERSHOCK

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Source: PolitEcon - NodeNet longform magazine

Timestamp: C7.T24 - 06:58 MT - Two months, six days after #riftday

Subject: The Oldest Hand in The Room

Byline: Palomaran Affairs Desk | Analysis

It was meant to be a deflection.

In the fifth hour of a strained Armistice briefing, with negotiations stalled and tempers thinning, Illia’s newly designated Elven “Special Agent to Tryl,” Aiani Caladstone, was asked a question that had already begun to circulate beyond the chamber: By what legal authority had the Illian Council on Sovereign Harmony acquired land surrounding Pocket sites across Tryl over the past several centuries?

The premise behind the Tryllian legal inquiry was simple. Illian entities, as non-Tryl actors, had never held recognized standing under Tryllian law. Their land claims, therefore, were invalid.

Caladstone did not dispute the premise.

“If Illian agents have no standing under Tryllian law,” she replied, “then Tryllian law itself has no standing.”

The laughter in the room was audible and immediate. 

To be fair, the Tryllian legal experts were already straining at incredulity since the infamous #riftday events had turned their understanding of the world upside-down. The things of children’s stories— Elves, dwarves, magic, dragons, and the like—had become sudden, brutal reality. That, they had to concede.

But this legal argument, on the other hand, felt like something the Tryllian experts knew more about than some young neophyte PR elf. So the laughter erupted. The sort of laughter reserved for statements so disproportionate they collapse under their own weight.

Laughter that lasted approximately nine minutes. Then the Council backed her up. 

I. The Documents

The Illian Council did not issue a rebuttal. It issued an archive. Not a statement, nor a clarification, but a structured release of authenticated materials spanning multiple centuries of Tryllian development—legal drafts, trade accords, advisory correspondences, maritime sponsorship ledgers, arbitration frameworks.

The implication was not argued. It was meticulously indexed.

Within hours, Tryl’s legal scholars began isolating familiar language—phrases long assumed to be products of early Palomaran governance—embedded verbatim in much older documents bearing Illian seals or signatures attributed to known Council intermediaries. Many of the intermediaries—primarily the long-lived elven and dwarves—still on the current Council body. Even for documents as old as the Federation’s founding two centuries ago.

Within days, challenges were filed. Forgery was asserted.

Within weeks, the legal challenges began to fail. Parchment, ink, and handwriting analysis showed the documents were legitimate—and many of the ancient document authors, in fact, still contemporaries in the current Illian Council.

II. The Federation Layer

The first layer of Palomaran history to give way was the most recent: the Federal Charter itself.

Every Palomaran school child has been taught the origin of the Charter—delgates from the sovereign colonial provinces, loosely allied under the Colonial Compact, had gathered to revise the Compact to address shortcomings with it, and instead emerged with an all-new Federal Charter, soon ratified by the provinces involved. What had long been treated as a uniquely Palomaran synthesis—balancing provincial sovereignty with coordinated arbitration and trade—began to show structural parallels to earlier Council-authored frameworks. Not mere inspiration, or influence...

Continuity. From Council origin.

The office of the High Envoy. The arbitration conventions between provinces. Even the limitations placed on executive consolidation—each had precedent in documents predating the Federation by decades, in some cases centuries.

The prevailing assumption had been that Palomar invented its system of checks and balances out of necessity. The emerging conclusion was less flattering: it had inherited it.

III. The Colonial Compact

Further excavation led to the pre-federal period—the Colonial Compact.

While the Colonial Compact is mostly a footnote in common historical narratives of Palomar, scholars found here that the Council’s presence became harder to dismiss as coincidence. Trade and labor reforms once credited to pragmatic colonial governance bore hallmarks of coordinated intervention: standardized contract durations, early prohibitions on indefinite servitude, and arbitration mechanisms designed to supersede local authority when disputes crossed settlement lines.

These were not organic developments of a frontier society. They were externally introduced constraints.

More curiously, correspondence between colonial administrators—long archived and rarely examined outside academic circles—revealed a pattern of external advisement. Recommendations, phrased cautiously, consistently aligned with what would later become Compact doctrine.

The advisors themselves were never formally identified. They didn’t need to be.

IV. The Break from Valyra

Beyond the Compact lay the storied Palomaran Revolution—the formal severance from the old Valyran kingdoms that initially colonized the continent.

For generations, this had been understood as a predictable outcome of distance, taxation disputes, and political misalignment. A colonial inevitability. Yet newly surfaced materials complicate that narrative.

Council-linked intermediaries appear in diplomatic margins and trade disputes years before open rebellion—advocating for colonial autonomy in terms that mirror later independence rhetoric almost exactly. Not merely supporting the break once it began, but prefiguring it.

More telling still: earlier Council efforts within old Valyra itself, predating Valyran knowledge of the Palomaran continent.

Records indicate sustained attempts to reform Valyran trade and labor systems—efforts that met resistance from entrenched monarchies and guild structures. Proposals were diluted. Compromises stalled. Structural change failed.

Shortly thereafter, Council-directed attention had shifted west to “discovery” and colonization.

V. The Palome Expedition

At the center of that westward shift sits a familiar name: Pietro Palome.

Long celebrated as the navigator who first charted the Palomaran continent for Valyran powers, Palome’s voyage has occupied a stable place in continental history—ambitious, risky, and ultimately transformative.

Less discussed, until now, is its financing.

Ledgers released in the Council archive indicate that a significant portion of the expedition’s backing did not originate from Valyran courts or merchant houses, but from entities now attributable to the Illian Council’s network.

The expedition, in other words, was not merely permitted. It was enabled.

And the risk in Palome’s voyage must also be necessarily reframed—documents showed evidence that agents of the Illian Council had themselves discovered the continent that would become Palomar in the process of meticulous mapping Pockets and their entrance into Tryl. Framed in this light, the “discovery” of Palomar becomes something closer to a redirection—an intentional pivot away from an unreformable Valyra toward a more malleable frontier. 

A new continent to act as a new vessel for old ideas. But not old to Tryl. Old to Illia, where they originated.

VI. Before the Voyage

The final layer is the least complete, and the most contested.

Fragments suggest that Council engagement with Tryl predates Palome’s voyage entirely—appearing in advisory roles, trade observations, and legal commentaries within late Valyran records. Peripheral at first. Then recurring. Then embedded.

Not as rulers or conquerors. Societal architects, they saw themselves, working from remote halls. 

And not just on the Valyran side of Tryl. Ancient documents, when aligned with Palomar’s indigenous nomadic tribe oral traditions, reveal a collaboration between the Illian Council’s nomadic tribe representatives and Tryl’s pre-Palomaran tribes to foster the concepts of sovereignty of tribal lands ahead of Valyra’s arrival on what would become known as the Palomaran continent.

VII. The Question That Remains

None of this, on its own, proves malign intent. 

Every intervention can be read as stabilizing. Every reform, as progressive. Civilized. The erosion of feudal structures, the limitation of indefinite servitude, the spread of arbitration-based governance—these are, by most measures, improvements.

But taken together, across centuries, a different question begins to assert itself:

Not whether the Illian Council influenced Tryl. But whether Tryl, as it exists, was ever entirely its own.

Caladstone’s remark was dismissed as absurd when it was first spoken.

It is no longer being laughed at.

Comments:

- nodeMatrix: What else isn’t really from Tryl? Next we’re going to find out Illia invented pizza, beer, and pushup bras?

- spark_anon: Bruh, Illian Dwarves invented beer and Illian Gnomes invented pizza, lol. We kept it clean too. Cheese and vegetables, no Tryl meat stack abominations. Pushup bras are 100% on you though.

- grimlingprophet: Since Pietro freaking Palome? Are you kidding me? I’ve been saying they’ve been here for years, but this… this is too much. This goes all the way back. 

- TrylFirstBro: So what, we’re just going to pretend this is fine? They wrote our laws. They shaped the system. Maybe that elf chick was right—none of this is legitimate. Maybe it’s time to build something that actually belongs to us. 

- civitas_legal: If even half of this holds up in arbitration, every land claim near a Pocket is going to be litigated into oblivion. But with Council magic users on every Pocket perimeter… maybe litigation will be less relevant than incantation. 

- dockhand77: “Societal architects, not conquerors.” Yeah? Come down to Crosshaven again and architect your way outta that!

 - blueharbor: Everyone’s jumping straight to conspiracy. The Council pushed labor limits and killed feudal systems. That’s not nothing.

- ironveil: Or they optimized us to be better cattle. There’s a difference.

- midreach_mom: I don’t care who wrote what. I just want to know what’s coming through those Pocket things and why nobody told us! __________ END INTERLUDE

A CrossXworlds story

© 2025 - Kevin W. Burke

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Davin stepped back, her arms sliding down his. He caught her hands in his as they slid down, then squeezed them. She looked back up at him. 

“When you’re ready to trust,” he said, “come see me again.”

Davin took another step back, letting her hands slip from his. She wanted to step towards him, to feel him again, but she let herself continue to shrink against the cold cement wall where he’d left her. 

He took a deep breath, straightening up. His face brightened. “I believe you have a Council to wow,” he said, an almost mischievous spark in his eye. 

He shot a hand out to the bar across the door without so much as a glance at it, hitting it squarely in the center and triggering the latch, maintaining his gaze on her as he did. Davin swung the door outward. He smiled at her wistfully for a moment, then stepped out. 

When the door latched closed, the darkness hiding her again, Aiani slid down against the wall until she was crouched onto the floor. She propped her head back against the hard wall with a slight thump, harder than she'd intended. The pain was cathartic, though. She clenched her teeth and leaned her head slightly forward, then made it thump against the wall again, a bit harder this time. A third thump, even harder. 

She grimaced at that one, eyes watering, and leaned forward, rubbing the back of her head. Not so smart, Aiani. That was all the self recrimination her head would take at the moment. 

Aiani scooted herself along the cement floor until she reached the steps, sitting on the first step like a bench seat, resting her feet two steps down. She fetched her Comm device out of her hoodie pocket and turned it on for the first time since the Surge pulse. The screen flared to life, illuminating her and the flight of stairs. 

Spark had told her that the Pocket energies still seemed capable of supporting a scry connection. Aiani tapped the series of menus and glyphs that he had taught her, and opened the app that the comm used to enable the scrying. 

Aiani hesitated to start it, already imagining the clamor of the Council hall, the questioning demands by certain members of the Council body. She grimaced again, this time from a pain of a different sort. She held the Comm away from her at arms length, shrinking back from facing it all for a moment. 

She sighed, then resigned herself to facing her fate with the Council. She swallowed hard and looked up, stalling one more moment before she’d commit. She closed her eyes, trying to drown out the swirl of Council faces in her mind. As she did, one face came into focus. 

Davin. The spark in his eyes. His tease about wowing the council echoed in her ears. 

She breathed out unexpectedly, her chest trembling, her eyes popping open. 

Fine. She’d show him. She’d face them down.

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A CrossXworlds story

© 2025 - 2026 - Kevin W. Burke

__________

Note: The following interlude takes place between the events of Episodes 15 and 16.

TRYL NODENET ARCHIVES

CYCLE 5 - TURN 17 // TRENDING FEED // TAG: #GLITCHDAY / #RIFTDAY

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Source: Centrecity Press drone footage, Centrecity City Hall

Timestamp: C5.T17 - 15:05 MT

At the Centrecity City Hall steps, the mayor emerges to a podium at the top of the steps, to issue a statement reassuring the public.

Among the staffers and security detail behind him, two of them begin to glow with faerie fire auras as their glamours fade, their disguises falling. 

The crowd clamors, some screaming. 

Turning to see the source of alarm, the mayor lights up as his illusion also falls, leaving his elven appearance.

Security bots whirl in confusion. One glitches, tazing the glowing staffer, who goes down in convulsions. 

The mayor raises his arms, pleading. 

“I mean no harm! I was placed here a century ago–”

Someone throws a bottle.

The security bots deploy shields, but half are protecting the mayor and half are containing him. 

The press drone spirals off course, video glitching as its telemetry systems hang.  __________

Source: Gloomsburg Live News 5 Commcast Update

Timestamp: C5.T17 - 13:07 MT Medium shot, anchor desk. News anchor Jerb Williands faces the camera. His posture is rigid, his voice measured. 

“Earlier this afternoon, Live News 5 aired a brief live segment filed by one of our autonomous field units, Nori, regarding events in the Woodrock district. 

“That segment contained language and framing that did not meet our editorial standards. In particular, the report engaged in speculative descriptions and unverified characterizations of individuals involved in an ongoing incident. 

“While the video footage captured by the unit does depict unusual environmental and situational conditions, claims made on-air regarding off-world origin, non-human identity, or extraordinary capabilities have not been independently verified at this time.

“It is not the role of Live News 5 to speculate, sensationalize, or draw conclusions while facts remain incomplete. The live feed was terminated as soon as production staff became aware of the deviation from journalistic standards. 

“For clarity: During the recorded exchange, the individual interviewed appeared cooperative, did not initiate hostile action toward civilians, and was engaged in what authorities have described as an ongoing public safety response. 

“We regret the confusion caused by the earlier broadcast and reaffirm our commitment to accurate, responsible reporting– especially during moments of public uncertainty.

“Further updates will be provided as confirmed information becomes available through official channels.”

Jerb pauses briefly, a faint shake of the head, then continues into the next segment.  __________

Source: Gloomsburg Metro Police Department Press Release

Timestamp: C5.T17 - 13:17 WT

Due to widespread incidents involving unstable spatial anomalies, localized atmospheric phenomenon, and undocumented biological incursions, residents are strongly advised to remain indoors unless an evacuation notice is issued.

Do not approach glowing individuals. 

Do not approach autonomous police dog units exhibiting erratic behavior. 

Do not approach shimmering distortions, dimensional apertures, sphere-like mirages, or any object producing harmonic vibrations, regardless of their perceived beauty.

Stay tuned to official channels for emergency information. 

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Source: Gloomsburg Metro Police Department internal memo

Timestamp: C5.T17 - 13:20 WT

[Yellow sticky note appended to Gloomsburg Metro Police Department Press Release, above] 

Chief,

If you ask me to issue one more absurd press release simultaneously confirming and denying the terrifying reality of today’s unusual events, I’ll retire to private detective work.

– Det. Bendric Bunning 

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A CrossXworlds story

© 2025 - Kevin W. Burke

__________

Isilhuine leaned back, folding her arms, looking satisfied. 

“While we’re making confessions then, there’s something I haven’t told you, Aiani. Also to avoid incriminating certain parties.”

Aiani nodded again, listening.

“I’ve been part of this council for a long time. Since I was an intern, younger than you. There’s no one left on the Council besides me who remembers this. Your grandmother’s reputation is deeply revered on the council now. But when I was a girl, she had an entirely different reputation.”

Aiani straightened up, eyes widening.

“In the months after the battle had been won against the Wizard’s Alliance, the Council was on the verge of collapse. All of the different nations and races that had worked together to defeat a common enemy, now had a greater working knowledge of each other’s strengths and weaknesses than they had ever had, and certain factions started to exploit that. 

“One of the factions was the alliance of elemental elves, who had long resented the supremacy we Stone Elves have held over the affairs of elves. Other factions began to exploit that resentment, and it became a wedge of contention that threatened the whole collaboration. Relations between the different clans of elves had grown practically hostile.

“Until your grandmother, in the exercise of her duties of exploring all the Pockets, found herself in Fire Elf country… Morinar. And in defiance of the directives of her elven superiors, she refused to renounce her forbidden love for a young man, a Fire Elf she’d met there. 

“The Council members said she was reckless, rebellious, and a danger to the security of the Council. But it was the love and loyalty of your young grandparents to each other that turned the tide in Elven relations, and in the process, set the example for continued collaboration for all the rest of the Council races and nations. She would have never taken credit for this, but she was the glue that held the Council together.

“I see a lot of her in you, Aiani. I need you to fill her footsteps. To be that glue.”

Aiani nodded, breathing deeply, stifling her sniffles. Isilhuine was right. Her grandmother had never told her any of this.

“Thank you, ma’am. I will do my best.”

Isilhuine looked around the chambers again. 

“The Council body will reassemble any minute to continue their damage control efforts from this blasted Surge plan. You and I have kept each other from our own business for far too long. But one more thing.” 

“Yes, Councilor?”

“As soon as I’ve cleared up this business with Gallwraith and Stormweaver, I’ll call another regular Council Meeting. No promises, but I suspect that when I’m done, the rest of the Council will be open to reconsidering a proposal, should you be inclined to raise one.”

Aiani grinned.

 “Yes ma’am!”

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