The caves ran deep beneath Telia Un. Endless veins that forked in every which way, and somewhere within lay its beating heart. Cold air blew like the land exhaled a breath it had held for thousands of years. In the darkness, torch fires threw shadows against the damp walls. Men dressed in a full complement of armor, save for their helmets, crept along in the black. Each cautionary step echoed throughout what seemed an eternity as the metal they wore creaked and groaned. Seven of them all, shivering to the bone as the wintry air grew ever colder.

The man that led them, skin tanned and face scarred beyond recognition, held up a fist to signal the rest of his troop to halt. He thought he heard a voice just ahead, small but distinct. He jerked his head as a silent order for at least two of them to scout. Three volunteered and unsheathed their swords. Only one held a torch. The glimmer of that light faded as they turned a corner, taken in by the dark.

“Wait here,” said the leader. His tone was soft but no less firm, heavy in an accent that originated in the southern islands. Emphasis was placed on the pronunciation of the T in every word.

“How long?” asked a man to his right. No, thought the leader, not a man but a boy. He had a youthful complexion despite his pallor and the bags beneath his blue eyes. His brown hair was trimmed short in the style of the army. He held his torch with a shaky grip. The leader placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. 

“Not long. Steady now, son.” 

A light flickered in the pitch outside their boundary. It bobbed and weaved. The leader nodded. The scouts were returning with their findings. But as the torch came closer, and the figure that held it stepped into the luminescence of their circle, his breathing faltered. The figure’s face was no longer a face but that of pure bone, white and glistening. Where his eyes had been now rest the sockets that had housed them. The smooth surface of his skull reflected the light tenfold and the leader was forced to squint. 

Some rank smell filled the air. Urine. The boy pissed himself. 

“Hold fast,” said the leader. He hoped his words did not betray his own fear. Somehow the skeleton was able to speak, though his speech slurred like a drunkard on another bender. 

“None may approach, or others will suffer the same fate.” 

“Who are you?” asked the leader, more a whisper than he intended. 

“I am destiny, free at last!” 

The final word elongated in a gasp. All the fires snuffed out. Darkness seemed to seep into their very skin, so palpable one could almost hear it breathe. Silence bred further silence. Blood-curdling screams shattered that stifling quietude. Men scrambled, hollering to one another. Some called out names. Their voices died out. The leader did not move, could not move, as the air stirred around him, a gust that swirled like a raging whirlwind.

A sentence muttered into his ear: “Tell them I am free…”

—-

The second sun began its ascension to join its twin, a pale ball blazing at the height of its turn, the world sheathed in a weak scarlet hue. Ilenia sat atop her steed, one hand gripping the reins, and wiped the sweat that gathered at her brow with the back of a gloved hand. Dressed in the leather garb of a traditional hunter, she waited for her prey to come at the edge of a desert. Her blonde locks were tied in a tail, long enough to reach the small of her back. A hand shielded her eyes from the brightness that shimmered in the sands before her.

Movement shifted in a cloister of dunes. Her prey approached, small but agile. She retrieved her bow from the saddle. From the quiver strapped across her back, she took an arrow and nocked it to the string. With the slow patience of a woman who had done this all her life, she brought bow and feathered fletching to eye level, the string pulled taut. The movement stopped. Then she loosed the string. The arrow arced low before it struck true. She grinned and kicked her horse lightly on the side to urge him forward. As she closed in on her spoils, she slid off.

It took her a few seconds to pull the arrow free from the desert’s grasp. Once she did, she found a grey rabbit hit clean through at the abdomen. Blood soaked the steel tip. Dinner in hand, she climbed atop her steed and drove him into a full gallop, back across flatlands and sparse woods. As a general rule, she did not stray far from home. Conflict was brewing in the northern continents. While she and those she cared for most were safe for the time being, she could not help but feel a growing sense of trepidation. Something nagged at the furthest corners of her thoughts. Some warning she should heed but did not know what that warning meant. 

As the wind from the ride fingered her hair and cooled the heat on her face, she let her mind wander to better days. When starvation was the least of her worries and the age of fruitful labor seemed so endless that they could thrive forever. A childhood spent learning to hunt from her mother.

Surprise is key, my only star. Be the unexpected and expect nothing else, her mother would say, a smile crinkling her tanned face, blue eyes bright and brimming with life. Eyes so much like her own, flecked with bits of emerald. Those of her tribe often remarked how much they resembled one another. Sisters, some would say, twins even. Not mother and daughter. The recollection inspired a grin. The village came into view and she slowed her horse to a canter. Thoughts of the past scattered like dust in a breeze. 

The village of Keloh Rah sat on the outskirts of the city of Luna En. Hunters by trade and merchants when the season suited best, they kept an even relationship with the soldiers that so frequently patrolled their borders. It had been mutually beneficial for decades and despite the unrest that brewed in the north, that relationship remained unchanged. 

Wood huts topped with straw roofing lined the edge of a clearing in a circular formation. The largest of these structures took residence in the center, several stories high and the only of its kind to feature stone steps. A few bonfires were being prepared for supper. Villagers old and young crowded together. For the moment they sang an ancient song that detailed a legend of the first pioneers to travel the southern lands.

Ilenia secured her horse to a nearby tree and entered the village with the dead rabbit tied to her belt. Softly she sang to herself, preferring to be isolated after a hunt to clear her head. She walked toward her hut. Before she climbed the small steps to her door, a tug on her pant leg caused her to turn about, then look down. A little girl whose height just reached Ilenia’s knees stood there. Her brown eyes were wide, dark hair long and rolling over her shoulders to cover much of her tunic. 

“What is it, Leora?” asked Ilenia, crouching to one knee. 

“Why did you leave?”

“I had to hunt. See?” Ilenia gestured to the rabbit that was now unattached and dangling by its rear legs in her other hand. Leora seemed discomfited. Her eyes motioned from the rabbit to Ilenia. She retreated a few steps then ran off. Ilenia shook her head. What a strange child. Once inside, she stripped off her gear and replaced it with a simple mantle. Fatigue threatened to shut her eyes as she slunk onto her straw mat. Sleep then food.