Private Tales In the Wake of the Raging Flame

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
Caliane finished her meal with just the Evening Star for company. That brightest of stars had risen early whilst the sky was still cast in the hues of an early evening. It seemed as though there were too many exciting things happening on their plane for the star to miss. Once done with her meal she cleaned and set it all away, ready for when Eren returned and they would make their journey. But with the chores done her mind was left to wander and she found herself pacing idly, then exploring a bit of the woodland they were sheltered in, and finally returned to their camp to rifle through her pack to find a book. Whilst her mind had never rested easy the book was enough to draw her from her lingering worry. So she looked almost content when Eren finally crested the ridge screaming his warning.

Hastily Caliane bounded to her feet, stuffing the book back into her pack and her wings beginning to flare with the flame. Her first thought was that he was being attacked and flames leapt into her hands ready to defend against... against... Nobody followed him over that ridge and it with a sinking feeling she realised what his words meant.

Her take off burnt a good chunk of the earth away as she shot into the skies and soared back towards the village as fast as her wings and magic would allow.
 
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With as much in him as he could muster did he follow, but no amount of magic would have him match her. She would arrive long before him...


At first, there were plumes of smoke rising in the ever nearing distance. Drawing near, even now there were fires that still raged without answer. The gate had been smashed, the market destroyed, and the streets were littered with the dead, armed or not. What few men of their guard remained did their best to tend the fires, as well as the dead, but there were so few of them now and there were few other hands to help. It seemed no part of this once peaceful little town had gone untouched.

When Caliane arrived, she would find there was no one among them who'd gone unscathed, and many innocence lay among those fallen.

 
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People looked up as she passed but did not say a word, not even when she alighted in the middle of the carnage. Those still alive were too busy mourning to care about the avenging angel walking among them. Caliane did not pay them much heed either, a fact she would feel guilty for in the days and weeks to come, but her mind first went to her friends. The couple who had sheltered and fed them.

"Wendy! William!" Caliane sprinted through the ransacked inn. The door had been ripped off its hinges and the inside had not faired much better. Tables and chairs had been smashed to pieces, thrown out of the way or trampled beneath rampaging hooves. Some of it still smouldered by she put them out with barely a thought as she passed, tipping back furniture in the hopes of finding the two. Patrons lay dead slouched in their booths or strewn across the floor where they had stood to fight or fled.

"Wendy! William!" Caliane slid in puddles of blood as she stumbled through to the backrooms. Other members of staff had been killed here as they had been cornered. It was here that she found her friends. William had been pinned against the door with two arrows, his head sat on the table staring at it, a permanent scream locked on his face. Wendy she found outside tied to one of the horse stands, her back a mess of flesh.

Both bodies were still warm.

For a few moments Caliane could only stand there dumbly. She stared at the scene but her eyes were glazed, unseeing, as her mind attempted to process what had happened. How it had happened. Why. Then a fury so terrible, the likes of which the young avariel had not felt before, ripped through her. Her body erupted into flames and then she was airborne, arrowing back the way she had come.
 
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Across flat and stream, through bush and thicket, no matter what it was that barred his way he moved past it as the crow flied, with all the haste his Aerai blood granted him. Though no matter how much he willed it, he would not arrive in time to undo what Caliane had so surely found herself in the midst of now.

He arrived sometime after her, and was quick to find his way past the ruins of the gate that once protected them here. The streets were in shambles, and everywhere he looked he saw either the dead or their dearest loved ones, mourning over their fallen bodies. He drew in a deep breath and made his way through the street. As he took the route which first lead them to their friends inn, he was dismayed to see that the destruction only grew the further into town he went. His pace quickened, and just as he came upon the remains of their friends' inn did a blazing light shine forth, ascending into the sky and with the boom of mighty wings alight with fire, it was gone.

"Caliane..." he whispered to himself, but the worry in him now was not for her life.

It was then that he knew what he would find in there, and his head hung with the sense of grief that came over him. And he knew that the conclusion had likely come to her, as it had to him when he'd touched the mind of their attackers. Why now after so long would they sack this place so?

Never before have they sought such a prize as her.

 
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There was nothing but a roaring in her ears as she flew. All thought and reason had fled in the face of her wrath. There had been no need for such a slaughter unless those monsters had believed them to be hiding their prize. Their deaths had been filled with slow torture not the quick deaths of a merciless savage just looking to pillage and loot. Somehow they had known that William and Wendy had harboured them. But how? There had been no sightings of the creatures near the town and Caliane had grounded herself so she would not be spotted.

And then it hit her: her feather.

She had given it to Wendy before their final farewell as a thank you. The elf had known what it had meant and had shed tears as they had embraced. But there had been enough that had fallen from her broken, crumpled wings for the centaurs to have them too. An easy enough scent to track for barbarians. She had led them right to their friends door.

So they would die.

Caliane was not a vengeful person. Her soft heartedness had often made her father question if she were even his child at times. She had not even shown this wrath to those who had had her caged for months. She wanted to blame the rising of the Soulfire for this sudden change in her personality but a quiet part of her knew that it was the world that had changed her. She wondered, too, if she would be able to come back from this.
 
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Melysius departed from the healer's home in a bit of a huff. Damothee had frustrated him, or that is what he would say. In fact he was far more frustrated with himself for allowing her to be injured during their attack on the human's village. He'd put far too much faith in her, in seemed, and had forgone some of the protective tendencies he more often displayed regarding her. But her insistence against him had been far from mild, and so he - knowing full well her skill - relented. And really, she'd suffered a very minor injury next to the many fallen and those more grievously maimed.

Leaving from there while his partner's wounds we mended, he approached a nearby fire and began speaking with some of the others there. There'd been a strange occurrence not long ago, an odd shifting of barrels seemingly on their own, and what they thought had been shouting just outside their encampment. But no one had been spotted in the surround, and no one had been found in the camp.

Melysius was seldom concerned, but when his eyes looked up into the dark of the night sky, he - by chance - spied a peculiar thing in the distance. It burned like a star, but it quite clearly moved swiftly across the sky. And it was heading toward them.

 
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You can let go whilst I deal with this, Little Bird...

It was tempting to let the Soulfire consume her as it had done so before, but in doing so she would give this vengeance over to the elemental being and it was rightfully hers. Wendy and William had not been the Soulfire's friends. It had not been Caliane the creatures had tortured or her soulmate, who the Soulfire had staked as much claim to. No. These deaths were hers. Her wings pushed her faster until the sky seemed to crackle with heat. As she drew in sight of the town she did not stop to reconsider what it was she had come here to do she only tucked her wings in and plunged.

She fell like a shooting star into the midst of the pathetic shanty town. Deep inside she gathered that flame until there was more than she could hold onto. There was a moment of utter silence as she landed, kneeling, and she thought she saw the centaur who had captured her that night with a hand raised to his bow as if he might somehow hurt her.

Then the fire erupted.

Flames spewed in every direction roaring through weapons, huts and bodies. People who had the chance to screamed for their lives but those closest to her had not even had that luxury. On and on those horses of fire galloped until it reached the very edges of the village turning everything in its path to ash and ruin. Caliane poured all her grief, all her anguish, all her hate and rage into that tempest until she felt tears upon her cheeks.

She stayed there, knelt in the ashy ground, and sobbed as the fire raged on.
 
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* * *​

There had been cold in the night. It was not yet so crisp as to warn of winter's coming, but the chill was present all the same. But here now in this place, that chill had vanished. Now there was ash and smoke and fire. And death. As Erën came to this place, he did not find tents or shacks, he found only the remains of such that had been changed by the coming of a great and fiery wind. As he moved through the burning ruins, he stepped over timber, cloth and flesh, finding his way to the destruction's center.

That is where he found her.

"Caliane," he uttered as he approached, but his step was cautious. Only once before had he seen her unveil such terrible ruin, and in that time there had been much grief. But there was nothing but a yearning in him for her, eager to take her in his arms and shield her from all the world around her and take her from this place.

"Caliane, I'm here," he called out, drawing near.

 
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"S-Sir?"

Through the grey still falling ash shuffled forward the old man who had been with them during their own imprisonment. There were faded bruises on his skin and a nasty gash still healing no doubt from when he and the others had attempted to free those within. It seemed only Caliane and Erën had managed to escape that day. Behind him huddled others; men, women and some small children who clung to one another. Their eyes were wide with fright and they darted from their leader to the kneeling angel.

"She... won't move Sir. We - We've tried. The women offered her blankets but..." he wrung his hands. "We didn't want to just leave her but this place... Sir, if you don't mind we want to be going now."
 
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Erën slowed to a halt at the old man's beckoning, giving him leave to approach him and speak. Though, all while the man spoke, the solemn stare that he afforded only for her did not waver, and his eyes remained upon Caliane. Only after a moment of quiet did his eyes turn to the man, and he nodded, "go now."

Then, with softness underfoot, he approached her. He studied her, but not for worry or fear of harm, only in care and delicacy. Caliane was soft-hearted, kind, and quite easily ridden with guilt. Though her actions were of pure intent, often did she second guess her actions after times of instinct. And here, in the ashfall of her wrought destruction, he dared not know what thoughts had taken her lest she be the one to say them.

He came near, and kneeled there beside her, but he said nothing. Instead, cautiously, he brought his hand to rest upon her shoulder.

 
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The man looked grateful and bobbed his head before scuttling back to the group of ashen faced slaves. He gathered them up in short order and soon they were making their way from the charred circle of earth; the only sign that remained their struggles here had been real. Caliane didn't so much as look up. On her knees she stared at her hands folded loosely in her lap. Flickers of flame still danced over them, threading and weaving about her fingers like a playful kitten. As Erën approached they flared brighter.

"I killed them all," she said after a lengthy pause of silence whilst he gave her what comfort he could. She glanced up at him and her emerald eyes reflected her agony and grief but there was something other there too. Something akin to hate or as close to it as she Avariel could come given her nature. "I killed them all and I feel... nothing."
 
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Even if it was that he himself was without much remorse for those that had been slain, for they had shown themselves for what they were in his eyes, he had known already such was not the case for her. But as Erën comforted her, and he thought on what she said, he thought more of it than what she unveiled. To him, it was not that she felt nothing, rather that she had no idea how to express what she felt. That, to him, was far more perilous.

And though he was a warrior well versed in the slaying of others, there was little he felt he could say to quell the fires that burned within her in these moments. There was little comfort to be had in the slaying of potential, perceived innocence, even if the greater good could justify it. To any true warrior, the loss of such life was never something taken so lightly. There was nothing that could be said. At least not for a time.

Finally, after only a short while, Erën at last asked her to leave from that place with him.

"We mustn't stay here, come."

There was nothing more for them to do there now than to put it behind them.

 
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Caliane let him help her back to her feet. She swayed but there was no sign of physical harm or even, really, any sign of physical toil from what she had done. Just a few months ago she would have needed to sleep such a display off but as she stood the fire rippled over her in waves as though there was more inside of her eager for release. She wound her fingers through his and held on tightly as they left that ashen plain and wandered... well, Caliane did not really know where they wandered.

You did what was necessary, the Soulfire soothed but it did little to comfort the jagged parts of her heart. Neither had watching those centaurs die. None of it brought Wendy and William back. None of ir erased the guilt.

"It was my fault," she said softly after they had been walking some time. "I... I gave Wendy one of my feathers. They tracked my scent there."
 
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He breathed a quiet sigh, grieving for her guilt.

"You are not one of those who rode there with the intent to harm them," he quietly replied, "your token of friendship was not the cause of this. It was the evil in the hearts of those who slew them."

They were monsters, and she had brought a swift and just end to them. Retribution. Recompense.

"Sometimes this world is beautiful," he said, turning his eyes upon her with a softness in them, "and sometimes," he turned his eyes forward again, "it is cruel." She knew this already, of that he was all too aware. But sometimes it was a hard burden to bear, that at the end of the day no matter how much or how hard one tries, bad things will always happen. Sometimes it felt better to take on the blame. Sometimes it felt more hopeful to.

"Do not carry this weight, Caliane. I'm sure they, too, would say the same."

 
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Caliane could not bring herself to agree even though that way led peace for her heart. She had always known herself well enough to know she did not have the heart for war. It was not the gruesomeness of it as her father assumed; she had picked the Hunter rank after all. No, it was the pointless waste of life that came with war. Did any person truly deserve to die? Why did any of them get the right to make that decision? Monsters were a far clearer evil. People... people were not.

There had been children in that camp.

Her wings drooped lower.

There had been children in the village too, the Soulfire countered. Caliane could only sigh. It was times such as these she thought she understood why the Elders closed the gates to Thyasari.

"I just want to go home. I'm so... tired."
 
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He was quiet for a while after her admittance. The world was harsh and full of danger and grief. Who wouldn't wish to flee from it? Perhaps it had been his many years chasing those very things that had numbed him to the desire to return home. Maybe it was that he knew that road, for him, only lead to more of what he'd hope to avoid - a plight he wished no other to contend with. Whatever it was, he wondered on what reprieve, if any, Caliane would truly have in Thyasari. Would not the troubles she has faced follow after like the unceasing shadow, chasing her no matter how bright the day?

He wondered if anything could ease the pain that one's soul carried on with after every cut. Every failure, every loss. Every empty set of eyes staring back.

And then... he remembered it, shining brightly under the brilliant sun. He remembered, then, what it felt like to yearn for that place you knew so well in the midst of your most innocent days. He remembered the warmth and peace of a familiar breeze, carrying on it a scent so comforting as to almost go without notice.

He remembered what is was to want for home.

"Then that is where we will go."

 
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Caliane startled at the quickness with which he agreed with her. Looking up at him she searched his face for any sign that he was doing this for her against his better wishes, but he looked full of resolve on the matter. The pain in her heart eased a fraction, and then a fraction more when she realised she had never truly shown Erën her home. They had meant to after returning Lazule to her fathers in the hopes of finding her a new body, but their enemies had forced them down a different path. She found herself glad, however, that this first experience they could share just the two of them.

"Thank you," she rocked onto the tips of her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. She knew that it was his home that had set them on this quest in the first place, and what he gave up in delaying their next move. For her. It filled her with a warmth that had nothing to do with the ancestral fire that burned in her veins.

"There is a portal stone not far from Thyasari," it would be a few days hike from there - or a day of flight - but the idea of being home amongst her own kind had rejuvenated her enough that such a journey did not feel so harrowing. She even found herself picking up her wings once more.
 
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He smiled and leaned into her lips just a little, and his eyes softened with her touch.

There was nothing he would not do, nothing he would not step aside, and nothing he would not give to take as much of the pain and stress from her as he could. He could slay monsters of many kinds and trifle with the likes of demons, but no foe was greater to him than that which brought Caliane sorrow. If Thyasari was the answer, then that is what he would pursue.

They took their time and made their way to the very place that had brought them to this part of the world. As they drew near to the portal stone, Erën took a quick look around. With nothing of interest or danger in sight, he cast Caliane another smile and then inspected the stone. A small, ambient light showed in his fingertips, and a gentle arc flickered between his finger and thumb as he reached toward the face of the stone.

Being much more careful than he had before, he asked as he pointed to one of the various symbols, "it's this one, or am I mistaken?"

 
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Caliane bent to examine the rune Erën pointed to and then cast her eyes over the others. It was not often that she used the portal stones, preferring instead her own wings, but she recognised some of the ancient symbols for the Lost Names of certain modern cities. The strong harsh lines her love pointed to were unmistakably Flyshrish - the old tongue of the mountainous creatures who one ruled the city that protected the stone. Now the hairy giants roamed in small nomadic groups, but their legacy remained.

"Yes. Belgarth is a little closer, but the dwarves are still not fans of my kind," her wings shifted uncomfortably. Belgarthian dwarves even less so for it was they that the Avariels had waged their long Sky Wars against. Both races had long memories and held even longer grudges. After the ordeals they had suffered here she would rather a longer hike for less chance of trouble.

Route decided, she watched curiously as Erën spelled the rune and the portal yawned open. She had had little time previously to take in what it was he had done but now she felt more sure she might be able to do it for herself if she had a need. Stepping through the wavering light they left the undulating grasslands and stepped out onto the snowy edge of a lake. Caliane took a deep breath and let her eyes close as she savoured the taste of home.
 
All things considered, it was easy for Erën to agree that Belgrath was not their best destination. While the conflicts of old were well and far into the past now, it was best to leave well enough alone at this point. He wasn't sure he'd have the patience for a tough tongued dwarf, anyway. So it was the stone further north then, and as the rune lit with magic from Erën's touch, the portal was made open and they made no hesitation in stepping through.

Erën described the use of the portal stone as... strange. It was in making the magic ready to be pulled into the stone, not forced into it. And, for one like Erën and no doubt Caliane too, it was like a drop in the bucket.

The ground crunched under his feet. The crisp mountain air filled his lungs and he too was filled with a sense, not of home, but of a definite fondness. He cast his eyes out over the shimmering lake, up the mountainside in the distance, and then around them where they stood. In these lands they were far more familiar, far better equipped to deal with anything that may bar their path. It was safer here, even in these wilds.

He let out a gentle sigh through his nose, and then he turned to Caliane and embraced her, tightly and somewhat abruptly. And for a moment, wordless and still, he held her.

 
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Caliane froze in bewilderment as Erën wrapped her in a tight embrace. Her eyes darted immediately for any sign of danger or trouble that might explain his action but on seeing nothing calmed her erratic heart and the flames which had leapt at her spike of panic. Her arms slid around him to return the gesture and with a deep breath let herself relax as she realised what had driven him to hug her. Relief. In these mountains they were within the borders she knew her people patrolled regularly and thus they were safe. After the past few weeks of fighting demons, being hunted, kidnapped, and loss, the relief made her feel exhausted.

"Come," she said after the moment passed and stepped back, though still she held tightly to his hands. "I can't wait to show you my home," she had seen his in a way, through the snatched odd Dream-Memories and the Collective, but she had never been able to give him the same. Not whilst her home had continued to be hostile to those without wings.

It was hard resisting the urge not to fly the familiar currents of these winds but instead she showed Erën the freshly cleared pathways through the mountain. The amount of footsteps that must have passed through to trample the snow so filled her with curiosity and hope. Since the Avariels had re-announced themselves to the world more and more people who had once called Thyasari home had decided to return home.

"I don't think I've ever walked through the gates before," she mused aloud as they clambered higher.
 
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"Well," he replied, "I am happy to share as many first times with you as I can, Melissë."

The path to Thyasari lead them up the mountain, and though the mountains of The Spine were far grander than those Sharyrdaes was built upon, it was just another familiarity that the Aerai and Avariel had in common. And the relief he had shared with her earlier became more prominent on his features, and he was all too willing to let his eyes wander as they progressed along the path with their hands twined together.

He did make note of the trampled path, finding it somewhat peculiar given the Avariels' natural inclination to fly to-and-fro, but he thought little of it. It was not as though they did not have a pair of legs.

As they ascended higher, Erën could not deny that he his curiosity about Caliane's home grew as they came nearer. He wondered how a city where everyone could fly might accommodate someone who was landbound like himself. He wondered what it was like to see the sky full of wings like his lover's, moving here and there as casually as one in his home would walk.

Along the path he shot her a glance or two, smiling at her and mentioning the odd sight here or there which caught his eye; simply enjoying the time with her, and doing his best to put the past well behind them before they reached what he knew was to be her solace. They needn't carry any worry with them there.

 
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As Erën commented on this or that Caliane told him stories of her home. She pointed out the unique carvings into stone the ordinary traveller would walk past and explained how Hunters from her Guild had left them as a means of tracing their paths. She pointed out sentry posts up in the crags of the mountain face where an odd feather was stuck indicating who was on sentry duty. Each tale more energy seemed to consume her. The weight on her shoulders seemed to lessen and her steps became less lethargic.

The path they wound up grew narrower where it looked as though the pass was freshly cleared of a rockslide and suddenly Caliane turned sharply to the left. The gates to Thyasari loomed above them seemingly carved from the mountain itself. Gold ran through the rock like thin veins creating a tapestry of the Avariel's history long past. Two sentinels landed in a flurry of wings. The male to the right possessed a wings of a soft mint green, whilst the woman to the left possessed snowy wings flecked with golds and browns much like the mountain eagles that they'd spotted. Both wore shimmering gold armour including winged helmets that left only their eyes, nose and mouth visible.

"Caliane," the woman said with familial warmth. "What are you doing here?" her eyes flickered to Erën curiously, noting first his ears and then his sword. There was a flickering of recognition there then a widening of realisation. "You bring one of the Aeraesarians?" The male seemed to double take, looking over Erën with renewed interest. Caliane slid her hand into his and gave a comforting squeeze, before twining their hands together.

"Erën this is Shyaendri and Haelindor," she indicated first the female then the male both of who bowed their heads in greeting. "I would like you both to meet Eren'thiel Xyrdithas, my mate," she pronounced with obvious pride.
 
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Erën had only a little time to admire the city's gates before they were greeted by the pair of Avariel. He looked them over, noting the gilded armour they wore. But there again, he had little time before the pair spoke to them and mentioned something that he found quite curious.

First, their arrival was clearly unexpected given the reaction from the pair, but it was their identifying him as an Aerai that piqued his interest.

"Erën this is Shyaendri and Haelindor..."
​
He tied his fingers with hers and returned the affirmation in her grasp, and smiled to her as she proclaimed him as her mate. And though this was something he felt no small amount of joy, it was her show of it that warmed him. But as much as he wished to linger on these fairer things, he simply could not leave his curiosity unattended. Of his belongings, his sword was likely the first most obvious indication of his lineage. But more than this, how quickly they had spotted such a detail was interesting. From what he understood, he and Caliane were the first of their two peoples to come into contact with one another.

He gestured to the sword that hung on his hip, the jewel of its hilt flashing some in the light, "I'm not the first Aerai you've seen in recent weeks," he said, half a question and half a determination.

 
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Haelindor nodded causing Caliane to frown. There were such few Avariel children that those born close together were often raised more like siblings which had been the case with her, Haelindor and Shyaendri. Zandeer had been the other to make up their small little group but he had followed her into the Hunters Guild. It was knowing these Avariel as well as she knew herself that had caused the frown and feeling of foreboding.

"Something is wrong," her heart sunk. Had disaster struck even here? Was there no place left that could claim peace? Shyaendri instantly stepped forward to take her free hand and give it a comforting squeeze.

"Not here. Thyasari is well - thriving even. Some of the valley elves who used to have their homes here have been returning - even some humans and--"

"The Thirteen were called upon," Haelindor cut in unable to take Caliane's unblinking gaze any longer. He glanced briefly to his companion with an apologetic grimace. "An Aerai messenger arrived a moon turn ago asking for aid. The Elders decided to answer by sending The Thirteen, the left a week past."
 
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