39 lines
No EOL
2.7 KiB
Markdown
39 lines
No EOL
2.7 KiB
Markdown
The silence stretched long after Tuaru’s pronouncement, until even the fire crackled more gently, as if wary of echoing too loudly. Then Eris rose from her place, brushing ash from her hands.
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“We kept more than stories,” she said.
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She crossed to the rear of the lodge, past weather-beaten talismans and bundles of dried roots hung from the rafters. From behind a woven mat of black goat hair, she drew forth a satchel of treated hide—worn, almost brittle with age.
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Eris placed it on the hearthstones between them and knelt. With slow, reverent fingers, she unwrapped the contents: layers of old cloth, each bearing the scent of preserved mountain sage and time. Inside lay a shard of slate, perhaps the size of Telaryn’s palm, its edges worn by handling. One side was smooth but carved—etched in sharp lines that shimmered faintly in the firelight.
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Tuaru leaned forward. “Pre-Shattering sigils. Not temple work. Clan-marks. Blood-bound and mountain-bound both.”
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And beneath those, curling around the edge like vines creeping over ruin, were letters in the angular script of the Veyari—part mnemonic code, part incantation.
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Sari stepped closer, breath fogging faintly in the fire’s glow. “It speaks of a path hidden by weight and waiting. A place not sealed, but dreaming. The Keep lies buried beneath what the stone has forgotten.”
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Halven leaned in, gaze narrowing. “This is a map fragment,” he murmured, wonder dawning. “That curve… that marking… it matches the old clan charts from the deep northern passes.”
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Eris nodded. “There were once four fragments. Only one remains. The rest were lost when the world break apart. We have passed this one down through thirteen generations.”
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Telaryn reached out, her fingertips grazing the cold stone. It throbbed faintly beneath her touch—not with heat, but memory. As if it recognized something in her blood.
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Sari’s voice was nearly a whisper. “She’s calling again. The mountain feels it.”
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Tuaru gave a low grunt, neither agreement nor protest. “The Keep of Ash lies beyond the veil of living memory. But this—this points the way. Through ruin. Through frost. Through the bones of the world.”
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Telaryn looked to him. “You’ll guide us?”
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“No,” Tuaru said. “But I will send those who can. Blood demands it.”
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Eris met her eyes without hesitation.
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Sari nodded once, lips tight, fingers curling around the haft of her staff.
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The fire flared as if exhaling.
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From the shadows, Grandmother's voice rose again—soft, cracked, but unshaken.
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“If you wake her legacy,” she said, “you must learn to carry her curse.”
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Telaryn said nothing. She only held the fragment tighter, and in the firelight, her shadow flickered long across the stone. |