Two masked luminymphs enter Khashi Kno’s Entertainment Centre. They trawl through the myriad tables and games to find a familiar face—one whose smile is laden with sadness.
Rein is a deer beastkin working as a dealer in the casino. They are quite popular, especially among lonely players who just want a listening ear.
When he sees Hierophantic Mask and Free Wind approach, he gives them a light smile. Polite enough, but to his luminymph friends, they see a hesitance in his eyes.
“Hello friends!” He calls. “How have your travels been?”
Past the pleasantries, Hiero finally unveils the truth about Snowdrop, his partner, and Flake, their child. The euphoria of their family’s love was exchanged to erase the memory of the pain that ultimately brought Rein here.
Rein takes the button, thumbs it over like it’s somehow familiar. He stares at the flower, glowing and alive, like he’s trying to read between the veins of his petals.
“I…” They croak, throat thick and eyes burning. “I’m scared. What if I don’t want to remember?” The pain that he has felt—when he thinks of heights, of Eagle Rock—comes coalescing altogether.
Free Wind takes his hand. “I know how it feels,” she says simply. “You won’t be alone.”
Rein can feel the ache and sorrow and regret from the button. But most overwhelming of all, as he continues to thumb it over, is joy.
“Who knew it’d be so hot on a volcano,” Free Wind complains, taking off his robe and stuffing into his traveller’s pack, “don’t you guys have some kind of climate control here?”
“Don’t you live in the Desert?” Alana replies incredulously.
“Yes, in a City located in a cavern that’s naturally cooler than the blazing heat of the sun.”
“Fair enough.” The volgecko concedes. “So are we going to keep talking about the weather or will you help me find my staff?”
“Just trying to feel a bit more comfortable, is all,” Hiero laughs as she takes off her own outer robe. “Now, was there something you had when you lost the staff? Something you were wearing?”
Alana nods, removing the necklace from her person and handing it over to Hiero. Its crystal shines brightly, and Hiero closes her eyes to listen to the song of her Mask.
Formed from the heat and pressures of the early world and the powers of the old gods, this crystal has grown silently, consistently, within the shrine of Mt. Molar. It saw many things: the sealing of a corrupt goddess, a father’s death brought to justice, before it was collected by Alana as a reminder, formed into the necklace she has kept close to her heart.
It saw, too, the loss of Alana’s staff, who had misplaced it on a hike climbing up one of the larger volcanoes…
Free Wind gasps. “Oh gods, we have to get closer to the volcano?!”
At the border heading towards Koralia, Free Wind’s grip on Hiero’s hand tightens.
“It’s been a long while.” Free Wind states simply, xyr voice steady. But Hiero feels the tremor in their hand.
“Hey,” Hiero nudges her. “I’m here. Always will be.”
She offers a small smile, and a mirrored promise.
Throughout their travels, Hiero writes. Notes, diagrams, maps. She’s heard from Midsummer that he has begun his own adventures, and Hiero can’t wait to drop by that summer house he’s given her a key to.
She writes some new plays too, ready to come back to some more creative pursuits. She’s been writing one to grapple with Life and Fate, a real epic that takes the wind out of her just putting quill to paper. Still, it is rejuvenating to see it all come together, line by line, sheet by sheet.
There is also a special play she secretly writes, when she wakes in the night and has to slowly disentangle herself from Free Wind’s peaceful sleeping frame. A dialogue, to be performed by an audience no bigger than the actors themselves. A proposal, even, to be bound together.
The Founding Festival comes again soon enough, and Myddul begins to feel even more alive with its activities in full swing. For Free Wind, the music and golden decor all seem to scratch an itch she had no idea she had.
“Careful,” calls out Hiero, reminded of a memory gifted from a small wooden box.
Free Wind dances anyway, taking cue from the beat of a live band. Ze holds out a hand to their darling love. Come dance with me.
Hiero approaches—and then, xe slips.
Warm hands surround him. Golden eyes connect with green.
Free Wind grins. “My knight in shining armour!” She exclaims, full of joy, and pulls Hiero down for a kiss.
“Real strange, mysterious place,” Free Wind’s voice rings through the thick air of the swamp, the slosh of mud underneath their boots punctuating each footstep. “Thought you’d like it very much.”
Though most of the swamp is quite unwelcoming, not all of it is, especially in the presence of one ‘Ol Man Barrow.
“Come in,” says the beastkin, opening the doors to his hut, seemingly under construction. “I’ve just put the kettle on.”
“Hey.” Donut Donutmister is there too, and waves a casual hand.
Barrow apologises for the state of things, and explains that he’s been in the process of restoring the temple to its former glory, that it's slow-going, especially with his joints, you know, and perhaps they would be willing to help.
Hiero has just the thing with her Mask. She can see back into a time when the place was cleaner and grander. Together, they slowly arrange the foyer.
A stray bulb catches Hiero’s attention. She’s about to call Barrow’s attention when the Mask hums once again.
A silver bulb, once part of a great looming door. A door with an emblem, consisting of a skull, surrounded by a circle. Upon the circle, is a quill, a set of scales, and a scythe.
Free Wind’s right.
What a strange, mysterious place indeed.