Travel Book Entry: 8th December
The past few days have been tough. Yesterday, especially. Eijo had the idea for me to write – well, for him to help me write – in this book. I can’t read or write common, only our own language. Perhaps it will help ease what feels like a burden?
Riastrasz went off alone again, once the eggs were located. A narrow gorge filled with lava, choking ash – those of us not resistant to it drank a mixture I made with some herbs Kyrzen got for me a while ago in anticipation of this, but it was still unpleasant, even to someone from Vol’dun. We had to fight our way through two Djaradin guards. They’d set up a huge barricade, which Ithigos used his magic to help us breach. Cristana and Caste charged ahead to fight off two Orcs at the top of the gorge, with the eggs finally in sight. Ithigos used his magic to try and help the eggs, but there was this strange shimmering. In the moment, I don’t think any of us fully noticed it. In shameful truth, the only reason I noticed it in hindsight was when my arrow missed one of the Orcs, hitting one of the precious eggs we’d come so far, fought so hard, to save.
I was distraught, agonized, over that mistake. But before I had time to sink into despair, Eijo made me look up. Where moments ago our friends all stood – Cristana, Caste, Daera, Ithigos, and even the two Orcs they were fighting - now, they were simply gone, seemingly without a trace. The last thing we heard was one of them shouting to get help, and a word that stood out to me. “Firelands”. In a panic, fearful of the very lives of our friends, Eijo and I ran as fast as we could back down and out of the gorge, back to where the rest of the Wayfinders were. We gathered as much help as we could – Windshriek, our former enemy, a primalist, along with Kyrzen and Addy, who rushed back to help us. Windshriek did some magic, back at the top. It’s all a bit beyond me, but I know there was some kind of rift we went through.
We crossed through and reunited – luckily, our friends were still alive… but this land was unlike anything I’d ever seen. Smothering and smoldering, the Firelands earned their name. Waiting for us was Ashwing – another of the Primalists, one of Windshriek’s former allies. It was a difficult battle against her fire-Druid magic, but she fell, alive, but badly injured, in the end. We checked on the eggs – luckily, the arrow did not harm the little one inside – but before we had much time, a truly gargantuan proto-drake of some sort, landed. Another of Windshriek’s former allies, I think. He… took control of her, somehow. I stupidly tried to attack him when he was flying off, but fell down a rocky cliff-face. The rest is a bit of a blur.
We escaped, with the eggs, fortunately, but Windshriek was lost to us. She disappeared somewhere. Riastrasz, too, was left in the plane of fire. He was too large to move – and if we didn’t escape when we did, we’d all be trapped there with him. Our friends were thankful that we went to get help as quickly as we did. I try to think that way too, but the guilt always weighs me down that Eijo and I aren’t able to help as much as I wish we could. I know they appreciate what we do to help, I know they do. They know we do our best, within our limits. But, neither of us have magic to command. We’re just two Vulpera in a huge, dangerous world. Sometimes we can help by being quiet, or squeezing through smaller gaps – we’re good scouts, lookouts. But this horrible realm of fire, these great, powerful magic users. It’s a lot to take in. It’s out of our depth, completely.
In the end, the ones I care about are safe and will recover from their injuries. The Wayfinders, my love Eijo – my friends. It took a lot to get the ash out of our clothes and fur. But, we will be okay. We got the eggs out, every single one, safe and sound, even despite the arrow lodged inside one. I only wish Windshriek and Riastrasz were still with us, too.
-Fira
After the finale in the Waking Shore, we head towards some potentially calmer times over the festive period!