C’mahji found himself in Raincatcher Gulley - but how? Had he not laid down beneath the stars in Thanalan but moments before? He looked around warily, swiveled his ears to and fro; the jungle around him carried with it the heavy, earthy scent of a fresh rain, but something was off. The shadows danced in ways they shouldn’t. The sounds of animals were muted. He recognized where he was - the edge of his tribe’s territory.
A gust of wind swirled around him suddenly, bringing with it small embers and the smell of burning wood and flesh.
He felt his stomach drop and he began to pick his way through the heavy underbrush. The leaves of the ground foliage left his pants wet, and the tree bark he touched was still damp. The further he traveled toward his tribe, the stronger the smell became, and the more panicked he was.
He burst into a run, ignoring tree branches that seemed to grasp for him. He stumbled over an unseen rock, but continued. Finally, he emerged from the underbrush onto the main path leading to the tribe’s main gathering area. He could see the ebb and flow of oranges and yellows that indicated a burning fire, could smell it - but he heard nothing.
There was only suffocating silence.
His run became more desperate, until he reached the edge of the village and planted his booted feet to stop - only to slide across bloodied dirt. The tribe’s village was there exactly as he remembered it, yet nothing like he had ever seen. Fires had broken out, but did not actually burn the wood that the flames licked at. People were in various states of being, yet did not move.
There, in the middle of the village, was Lefay. But - no - that didn’t make any sense. How could she be here? She didn’t know this place. He had left her at her home after visiting earlier. She wore a beautiful white robe, with gold and red trim. She clasped her hands together in front of her. Flames licked at her robes and skin and hair, but did not burn her. Around her neck she wore a necklace with the symbol of Azeyma.
“Child of Fire,” she spoke, in a voice that was like Lefay’s, but laced with power that made his knees buckle. He felt his blood run cold when she spoke, and began to back toward the way he’d come, only to freeze when he felt a cold hand and sharp, claw-like nails drag lightly over his shoulder. In the next moment, Sanrai had circled in front of him, wearing a smile that was terrifyingly serene.
“Be not afraid, and do not run. It is unbecoming of one who would become a warden, hm?” Lefay reassured, stepping toward him, “You are to be given a Gift tonight. First, you must understand.”
There was a crack of thunder, and then the air to his left began to shimmer and the very fabric of reality appeared to tear for a moment. “From your past, you will begin your lesson. You will see where you failed as such a warden - where the Gift would have aided you.”
The area to his left stopped flickering and shimmering, and he was drawn to look, even before Lefay motioned for him to do so.
To his left, he saw the towering figure of a man standing over a Keeper woman - he knew the memory well, but this was different. They flickered in and out of existence, the shadows dancing around them. C’mahji saw a spear, driven through the Keeper’s belly. He could tell the man was twisting it. Rage and anguish rose in his chest and he turned to take a step toward them.
Quite suddenly, the entire scene shattered like glass - the shards scattered like ash to the wind. He let out a panicked cry, but his attention was drawn to the center of the village again.
“Your first failure is not of your own doing, not precisely. This was but a failing of your tribe. They feared you, and what you stood for,” Lefay took another step toward him.
The air continued to shimmer and shake, and his gaze followed it. Another scene was soon before him, and he turned his dumbstruck eyes to it. A man, which he knew on instinct alone to be a Nunh - frozen in a specific pose like the pair before. The Nunh had a woman by the braids - and was dragging her with ill-intent toward a hut. She was in a pose of resistance, kicking, mouth twisted into a scream, hands wrapped around the man’s wrist.
Then, to the side, there was him - younger, a teen, but tall and strong and capable. There he stood, shame painted on his face, looking away. As before, the scene shattered as soon as it truly registered with him.
“Your second failure is your own,” Lefay said, with another step toward him. “You bore witness to it. But you remained silent. You cowered. It is… unbefitting of a warden. Your past failures color your present, Child of Fire.”
He turned an increasingly shaky and blurry gaze to the center point of the village. There, he was met by a much larger scene. In the middle was a woman - a mother, clearly - cradling a kit, no more than five summers old. Hanging in the air around the woman and child were rocks, clearly having been thrown at the pair. The crowd surrounding them was angry and jeering, with only a few looking sick or afraid.
And the kits eyes glowed - one a bright sky blue, and the other a deep violet.
“Your third failure happens even now. You abandoned those who believed in you. You abandoned those who still had hope for a better -”
“I lost!” C’mahji finally shouted, shaking lightly from head to toe, “I challenged them, I tried - and I lost! I - I followed tribal traditions - I did what - what Azeyma demanded when one lost without honor.”
Lefay stared at him unblinking for a moment, and there was a sudden flare of the flames around her, and a rising temperature. C’mahji took a step back, ears laying tightly to his head against his braids.
“I did not deliver My Word unto you. You knew in your heart the decision was wrong, did you not?”
“I reject your gift,” he finally spaat, suddenly filled with anger and fire, “I don’t want it. You did nothing for me! I prayed to you - and I heard nothing but the birds chirping and the bugs singing in response!”
Lefay tilted her chin downward. The scene behind her and in front of C’mahji shattered.
Then, quite suddenly, Sanrai was in front of him and eye level, floating off the ground to pull off such a feat. She stared into his eyes with a gaze that didn’t quite feel alive - and then she smiled, “Come now, sweet C’mahji. Would you reject such a Gift with half the information?”
He became aware of yet another scene to his right. This one was far different. Sanrai led him to it, grabbing hold of one of his braids gently and guiding him there. She said nothing as she waited for him to take the scene in.
There were a dozen soldiers dead, and another half-dozen hunting dogs. They were non-descript, shadowy aberrations, but they had a very real weight to them. In the middle was Sohkatani Dotharl - and in his head, C’mahji finished the introduction she always gave herself, without a second though. But behind her cowered another man - him.
The scene jumped to life with a suddenness that startled C’mahji. Sohka whirled on him, a weapon in her hand. She shouted at him, in a language he recognized as Xaelic, but he could understand her, “What is wrong with you?! You cowered! Like a child! No, worse than a child!”
There was a pause where she looked at him, with a blend of anger and disgust and pity, and C’mahji felt his breath catch in his throat all over again. He had not realized how much it would hurt to have such judgement rendered against him, and -
“To think I ever thought of you as a friend, or partner, or warrior,” Sohka added bitterly, and then spat on the ground in front of him.
The scene shattered and Sanrai reached out to pat his cheek, “Your fourth failure is set still into the future. Who knows how far? How long? None can say. But you are on that path, yes?”
“The Gift,” Lefay added, having taken another step toward C’mahji. “Will stoke that Fire in your belly that has fallen dormant. It will allow you to be what you wish, what you have failed to be.”
C’mahji shook his head and tried to take a step back, but Sanrai kept hold of his braid like a leash, and hummed. “Not yet. One more.”
On cue, a final scene manifested. He saw himself, shacked with hands behind his back, and a heavy iron collar around his neck. He was on his knees, and he was being assessed by a rich looking man. He was flanked by two guards, and a shady looking merchant which could only be a slaver. No one’s mouths moved, but C’mahji could guess the conversation. He swallowed hard.
The scene shattered, and C’mahji found himself face to face with Lefay now. The flames that danced around her and over her flesh jumped to him eagerly, but did not burn him. She reached up and rested her hands on either of his cheeks. He did not move.
“Child of Fire, My warden - do you see now?”
He felt himself unable to answer her verbally. He felt numb, from head to toe. Frightened. Finally, he forced himself to nod once - a short, nervous, jerk of a motion.
Lefay smiled a slow, pleased, and entirely predatory smile. “You will remember your Past. You will change your Present. You will prevent your Future. You WILL accept my Gift.”
She leaned up and kissed him, hard and hungry, and he felt fire ignite and bloom inside him…
… and suddenly, he jolted awake with a startled gasp. He was back at camp in Thanalan, drenched in sweat, burning up but shivering from head to toe. The night was calm but not silent. He was still by the stream which he had set up camp by. He was still alone.
He placed his hand over his chest as he tried to catch his breath, to try to steady his shaking. He couldn’t. The images from the nightmare were burned into his brain, replaying over and over. He covered his ears with his hands and rolled onto his side, curling up into a little ball and staring out over the stream, hoping the gentle roar of water would calm him.
But his eyes were drawn to the horizon, where he saw a star that he had always been taught represented Azeyma. He saw it, burning bright in the sky. With a whimper, he closed his eyes tight, and willed it all away.
Tagging due to mentions: @pocket-panda @lefayexplores @sanraibayaqud
