#shafise

Aranya sat quietly on a gilded floor, looking out at the stars above Zandalar. She was calm, still, breathing evenly and slow, despite what she was about to do. The arcanist looked down at a beautiful crystal trinket with a crescent within it, a gift from Colpeia’s tribe after she had sent them aid in the wake of Sargeras stabbing his sword into the heart of Silithus and robbing the Tanari illusion-weavers of one of their most sacred places.

It was a gift that later came with wisdom and warnings spoken to her, as she requested training in an illusion so deep, that she could lose conscious control of herself and it would still remain in place until she deliberately willed it away. A disguise to let the Thalassian woman cross to the other side of the faction war, stay afloat of matters in the world, keep playing a hand that could matter in a world where Azerite now decided the fate of so many. An illusion as only the Shafise could craft to let her pass for ren’dorei amongst the Alliance.

“What you ask has its dangers, Ankaa,” the sultana had warned her, calling her by her Tanari-given name. An illusion that strong required both strength and surrender. She had to give herself to the power that she invited and allowed in, but also needed an anchor within herself to keep her being who she was. It was a process that could drive one mad, if they survived it.

Colpeia hadn’t left Aranya’s side for a single moment of the phoenix-mage’s training. It might’ve been that the lovely desert-elf felt she would never forgive herself if anything happened to Aranya and she wasn’t there to help her, save her, bring her back, do something. It was actually a comfort to have her there, to have her see and know what her friend could do, her limits.

Aranya closed her eyes to the Zandalari skies, it was time to get this over with.

She breathed slow and deep, following the breath with her mind as it came into her and left her. Then she went deeper, following the rhythm of her blood, focusing on a particular power that flowed through her, and there were many to choose from. The red mana Kazakus gave her, charging her, keeping her sharp. The Sunwell’s sparkling, arcane light, giving her life. The essence of Felo’dal, her phoenix familiar, pulled into herself so long ago when he sacrificed himself for her in the Firelands, and she couldn’t bear to have his existence so utterly ended. There were also lingering traces of magic and mana she had siphoned from prey.

Aranya chose one thing within her to be her anchor, and focused on it utterly; how it felt, where it came from, what it did in her veins with every breath and beat of her heart. Then she opened her mind, inviting in something else, something from beyond the definitions of reality, in which space and time were merely words that didn’t actually mean anything. The purest primordial form of existence, the thing from which reality itself somehow coalesced into being and could one day dissolve and return back to.

Her eyes immediately flew open, their colors no long a smoldering green, but a whirling chaos. Her mouth fell open in a silent gasp that didn’t come, the wind somehow taken out of her. She fell forward on her hands and knees, shaking uncontrollably. Her blood raced in a panicked rhythm, she wanted to push whatever felt like it was now re-weaving her bones and skin away, but she rolled over, collapsing onto her back, shutting her eyes tight as she somehow forced her mind back onto that one power within her that she had chosen to anchor herself through this, going inward and letting go of everything else.

When she finally stopped shuddering and felt she could finally breathe again, Aranya just remained lying on the floor for a moment, dizzy, re-orienting herself, pressing her cheek to the cool floor and appreciating the stability it gave. Eventually her breathing calmed, and she lifted her head, midnight blue tresses falling back from her moonslight-hued shoulder as Halenvar pulled her close and tight to him, almost crushing her against his massive chest.

Aranya loved his warmth and solidity, it was wonderful.

“I hate watching you go through that,” said Halenvar, his tone sounding strained.

“I’m sorry,” breathed Aranya, her voice now having an otherwordly echo.

The first time that the valarjar had ever witnessed what it was that his now-wife had to go through each time to maintain her latest choice of disguise, Colpeia had had to hold him back, almost having to resort magic to do so. “Don’t! If you interrupt now it could kill her!”  

Aranya’s husband loosed his grip on her to told her face in his strong hands, his blue green eyes holding the pale blue stars of hers. “Be careful,” he said, like always. “Come back to me soon.”

“I will,” promised Aranya, kissing him.

“The magical defenses of Sunspire have had to change,” said Aranya. “The runestones were removed, and there’s a temporary ethereal dome to reflect magic for now. But Kurel has asked for a Titan-origin arrangement, which would stand up to the Legion, the Old gods...” The arcanist tilted her head to one side. “Almost anything but dragons, given the creatures’ titan-imbued nature.”

Colpeia’s slender eyes widened slightly, impressed. “A tall order,” she said.

Aranya nodded. “Learning about titan enchantments is no small undertaking. Their work was always very precise, and tends to rely on objects that serve as beacons, or locks and keys, or both.” The embers of her green eyes narrowed. “It was like they could encode their magic in such a way that the intuitive ways of mortals and demons could never touch.”

“I know this kind of magic could have very serious consequences,” admitted Aranya. Exactly the reason why she was so grateful when the illusionist agreed to help divide the focus of such power, share the burden. “If I tried to cast it alone, it could be the kind of lethal recklessness that even I couldn’t think of as even a wildly good idea.” The corner of her mouth pulled up “And... I’ve been guilty of some admittedly reckless and wild ideas.” She grinned lopsidedly.

Colpeia smirked, tilting he teacup against her lips to finish off its contents. The eclipse weaver set it aside on the arm of her chair. “It’s never wise to be reckless, but the best discoveries come from wild ideas,” she said. “I think if we take great care, we may be able to accomplish what you want.”

“I’m fairly certain we can,” said Aranya. “And I think with your background in math, the precision of titan magic would also make you a wiser choice as a partner in this than another.”

There was also the matter of Rariv’sha, the missing Tanari princess.

“There’s so much that I owe to her, and to her generosity, Peia,” said Aranya. “I can’t just let her go.”

Aranya pleaded with Colpeia to teach her any magic of Tanaris that the eclipse weaver knew. Khepris, Shafise, Mirage, anything that could be used to connect to the missing woman and allow the arcanist to find her faster. Simple scrying was obviously not enough, and Aranya had not been able to reach her by amplifying her reach across the ley-fabric of the world - as she had done with Kurel in the past.

“Then perhaps what you need,” suggested Colpeia. “Is the Gaze of the Stars.”

Aranya blinked, fascinated and intrigued.

Colpeia asked, “Do you remember the crystal that teleported us to my tribe’s location?”

The phoenix-mage smiled, recalling the beautiful and mystical charm. “I do,” she answered.

Colpeia explained that its enchantment, its make, was from silithyst crystals, and that its energy went above and below the world. “The energy feeds into the view of the stars. The ley lines are the colors that it sees,” said the desertborn. “This way, wherever its assigned source goes, it can find. It is how a separated Shafisian can rediscover the tribe before dying among the sands.”

Aranya looked amazed. “That... sounds like it would do it, yes.”

But what to use as a source to connect to the missing Khepris woman?

{Don’t worry, the enchanted bear and blanket that Ra gave Valéria won’t be harmed.}

@beamgully @rarivsha mentions to @kurel-andiel @sunspireport and tags to @halenvar since this was at his cottage in Valdisdal the day before we got the whole Stormheim band back together.

Aranya had been to Tanaris before. Adventures, pursuits, and battles with the Legion’s most recent push into Azeroth had taken her there. But in any of her times coming to the sandy South of Kalimdor, Aranya Ver’Sarn had never been to Land’s End Beach, only flown over it.

It was a delight to see Colpeia’s home here. Charming, with a relaxed atmosphere, and plenty of small cacti kept decoratively around the place. The ‘hellos’ once Aranya arrived were warm and brief, and within minutes the two mages were transported by an beautifully made charm of Colpeia’s, which was enchanted to take them to where the rest of the nomadic Shafise were camped, no matter where the other Tanari were.

Aranya had looked around with appreciative eyes for the wondrous aesthetic of the Shafise, and been greeted graciously by the tribe and by Sultana Zahashiq. The celestial hues of the tents and garb of this tribe left the Thalassian feeling a bit strange in her phoenix-motif reds and golds, but she let this feeling pass.

Within the tent of the sultana, Zahashiq had expressed that she - like Colpeia - had an auspicious sense of what trade relations could be between the Eclipse Syndicate and the Shafise - a tribe known throughout the sands as the Eclipse Weavers. Nonetheless, the venerable woman requested Aranya to further describe what sort of organization the Eclipse Syndicate was

The arcanist explained that the syndicate had originally been an entirely underworld organization, headed by her very dear friend, Opheron the pyromancer, who had recently retired.

“While we've still kept much of its ‘black market’ operating methods,” said Aranya. “I've had ideas to refine it, broaden it with fresh directions, and even see it operating in the open... As its namesake, an eclipse, does.” Her words seemed to come inspired in the moment, as she explained, “The sun shines, there is light... But its face is masterfully veiled by the moon.”

Sultana Zahashiq seemed impressed with Aranya’s choice of words, and concurred with an estimation that Colpeia had of the Thalassian woman. “You could have been born among us." The high approval in her tone resonated deeply. By her wizened demeanor, one could guess this was not a compliment she threw around lightly.

Colpeia smirked at the Sultana's remark, and Aranya blushed just a little at the praise.

“Enlighten me of these ideas,” continued the sultana. “By what creeds do you conduct business? And what sorts of items do you typically feature in your wares? I'm certain they must be interesting if you operate free of outside governing power.”

“We hold buyers' and sellers' interests over bureaucratic interests,” the arcanist made no hesitance to reply. “Plenty of what can be termed ‘black market’ is not even necessarily unlawful, but gets around sanctions, ordinances, tariffs, and often for a better price than what trade officials allow. As for items...” Aranya was a bit more thoughtful for a moment, the side of one slender finger coming across her lips for a second. “During Opheron's time as head, a lot of things were illegal or banned, yet moved through the syndicate unhindered,” she admitted. “I want to expand that to almost any goods anyone can't sell for what they’re truly worth.” After a beat, she added, “Not to mention, faction tensions tend to get in the way of free trade with embargoes, at times. How silly of them.” A sly smirk spread across the blood elf’s face.

The sultana chuckled at that last remark. “There is a reason the Shafise have strived for allyship rather than war throughout our timeless presence among the sands. Yes, I'm aware of the nature of a black market,” she said. “What catches my attention is your unprompted reassurance that not all of your activity is unlawful, simply breaking laws that are superfluous or even against any greater good. From the way you speak, I can guess you are a woman who holds ethical business in high regard. Is this true?"

Copleia noded supportively at her sultana, but allowed Aranya to answer for herself.

The Thalassian nodded very solemnly, and replied, “Very much so, Madam Sultana.”

The queen of the Eclipse Weavers what terms the arcanist would see in a trade arrangement with the tribe.

“The syndicate would take a percentage of the value of goods from your tribe, and distribute as far as we reach. Even as far as the Mok'nathal tribe of Outland. And we would open trade from all the worlds we are spread through to you,” answered Aranya. “But unlike other regulated trade, there would be no buyer's tax or trade tax, or fees. No cost to you as the buyer but what you exchange for what  you purchase. The other side of the deal will already have their percentage taken ahead.”

Sultana Zahashiq noted aloud that these were fine promises. “I would, however, like to talk numbers,” she pointed out. “What percentage do you have in mind?”

Aranya gave her standard policy cut for an answer, “No more than ten percent on most goods, but I may have to insist on a hard twelve percent for a few items that may have ordinances against them that make them harder to move or secure.”

The sultana considered this for a moment, her eyes hard with thought. Ultimately she agreed that the terms were well within the reasonable range that the tribe usually dealt in, and the accord was made.

desert flower by rastlion

Outside once again, Aranya was instructed through the Shafisian ceremony of the oath flower, whereby she gave her oath to the entire Tanari tribe that the terms between the Eclipse Syndicate and the Eclipse Weavers would be honored, by herself and all within the syndicate, and that no dishonor or harm would be done to them from the same. Breaking of this oath on her part would require her to ingest the same poisonous desert flower she swore by, and if by anyone else in the syndicate, then she would be bound to personally deliver them to the tribe for justice. This oath would be binding for as long as the sorceress lived, even she she were to step down as head.