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Consciousness returned to her all at once, followed shortly by a wave of agony that wracked her entire body, forcing her to stifle a scream. Y’shtola Rhul paused for a second to regain her composure, and then with a strained groan tried to stand. Her limbs responded hesitantly and with great pain, and she soon found that the best she could manage was an unsteady sitting position. Even that exacerbated her pain. She cursed under her breath as she stared down at the massive bite marks puncturing her tunic and chausses, both of which were covered in massive, splotchy red stains.
With a defeated sigh, Y’shtola inspected her surroundings as best as she could. She was still in the cave, and the feral goobbue lay completely still a few yalms away, its face crushed under the rubble of the cave’s stone monument. The inscription upon the monument was now fractured into pieces, the only still legible section being the first two sentences: I am the waves that bear. I am the winds that guide.
The last thing Y’shtola remembered was the creature lunging at her as she tripped backwards over the uneven cave floor. Judging by the way the monument had smashed into the goobbue, Y’shtola surmised that she herself must have been the culprit. In her desperation, she had likely unleashed some sort of earth magic that had wrenched the monument out of its platform and smashed it into the beast.
Normally she would be the first to bemoan the loss of such a piece of cultural significance, but at the moment the archon was far more concerned with her immediate survival. She was alone, she was bleeding out, and she strongly suspected the next creature to enter this cave would either be the very kidnappers she had been tracking or some wandering, feral ashkin. Either way, she needed to leave. Now. She reached for her wand, only to be met with empty air. Her heart skipped a beat. Frantically, she looked around, and quickly spotted fragments of enchanted oak littering the ground beside the goobbue. Y’shtola fought the panic rising up her chest as her mind grasped for options. In her current condition, with no wand, no aetheric focus, nothing to stop the bleeding-
“Oh, you poor thing!” Y’shtola’s body instinctively spun towards the unfamiliar feminine voice, only to trigger a spasm of pain that caused her to scream and collapse back to the floor. Fighting to keep her eyes open, she raised her head just enough to catch a glimpse of the speaker. Her breath caught in her throat. The panic she had been holding back burst forth like a flood. The figure was standing atop one of the larger rocks that dotted the outer edges of the cave, and was dressed in a hooded, black leather robe covered in various small accents and decorations. Their face, the top of which was covered by a black mask, wore an apparent look of concern, although every fiber of Y’shtola’s being did not trust it.
“I see an Ascian has graced me with their presence. How benevolent,” Y’shtola put as much sarcastic venom into her words as she could, although the pained weakness of her voice somewhat weakened its effect.
“Well now no need to be rude,” the Ascian pouted, crossing her arms, “Here you are about to expire in a cave, and yet you seem ready to bite the jugular of the first person who comes along!”
Y’shtola summoned her courage, pushing back the waves of fear that had been washing over her. If this was to be her end, she would meet it with dignity. “I have no patience for games or prattle today. If you mean to kill me then do so now and be quick about it. And if you mean to interrogate me or take me as a hostage, then I assure you that you will be sorely disappointed by the results.”
“You certainly seem to be assuming a lot of me on first meeting,” the Ascian snorted in bemusement.
“It would be naive to expect anything less of an Ascian who set a monster upon me, would it not?” Y’shtola nodded meaningfully at the blade embedded in the goobbue’s back, which had been clearly stuck there to enrage the beast and send it into a frenzy.
“Ah, I see the misunderstanding.”
“By the Twelve, cease these pointless jests.” Y’shtola’s temper was being sorely tested. Sadly, despite her earlier statement, she had no means by which to cut short the Ascian’s prattle.
The Ascian ignored her as she went on, “First, I was not responsible for the goobbue. I am afraid the blame for that lies with one of my…more fiery colleagues. The old man always had somewhat of an aggressive approach. I did track you here, I will admit, but only to learn of your progress in your investigation. I had no intention of seeing you come to harm. And as for my nature, yes I am an Ascian, but if you took the time to learn of me, I assure you that you would see I am not someone to be feared or distrusted.”
Y’shtola narrowed her eyes. While she did not trust the Ascian, any information about the shadowy cabal’s members could be useful. Only if she could find a way to escape, of course, but she would worry about that later. “Continue then, if you must.”
“We Ascians all have our roles, you see, like the thousand different tiny parts that make up one of your magitek devices. We have the sorcerers, the creators, the schemers, the infiltrators, the judge, so on and so on. Each of us pulling a single thread at a time from the frayed, moth-bitten tapestry that is the current world, all to create a beautiful, idyllic tapestry of our own.” The Ascian spoke in an amicable, excited tone, befitting a Studium student explaining a brand new discovery to a close friend more than a cultist talking to a sworn enemy. She extended her arms wide for emphasis and gracefully spun in a circle as she hopped down from the rock and started to walk towards the archon. ”As for my role in this grand machine, I am a…a scout, perhaps? No, that’s far too military…how about, a vagabond? No, a free spirit! That’s what I am!”
The Ascian let out a bright, youthful laugh, clearly amused by some joke in her own words that Y’shtola could not parse.
“No, no, I have it…” she continued as she leaned down close, giving Y’shtola a good view of the wide, seemingly genuine smile that graced her features. Only inches away now, the scion could see a few long locks of midnight blue hair peeking out from behind the mask under the hood. “I am an adventurer,” the Ascian said the word slowly, with such a sense of ecstatic glee that she seemed to be savoring the flavor of each individual, enunciated syllable.
“I believe that is the term for one such as I in this age, yes? Adventurers travel the world, they learn about people, they seek out the secrets of the most hidden depths, and when they encounter something out of sorts, they help, however they can.” She stood back up and exuberantly mimed each behavior as she described them. ”That is my role, I suppose. I pass through and I…help.” The Ascian’s cheerful tone dipped slightly in that last statement. Even dying, Y’shtola was still scrutinizing her foe’s every word and meaning, and this sudden change was not lost on her, although she could not place the exact emotion behind it. Was that tiredness in the Ascian’s voice? A lack of conviction? Regret?
“Even supposing all you have said is true,” Y’shtola finally responded, “a pertinent question remains: why are you here?”
“Like I said, I help.” The Ascian knelt down again, moving her hand towards the largest bite mark, a massive wound in Y’shtola’s torso. The miqote’s hand shot up and grabbed the Ascian’s wrist. It was a light grip, but the Ascian stopped nevertheless. With her own free hand, the Ascian reached up and removed her mask, revealing light blue eyes that looked down at Y’shtola with thousands of years of age. “Please.”
Y’shtola relaxed her arm and dropped it to the side, allowing the Ascian to reach her wound. With a muttering of words the archon did not understand, the Ascian spread a warm, comforting pulse of aether first into the massive gash, and then into the remaining wounds. The magic closed up each of them one by one. As her injuries mended, Y’shtola could feel strength returning to her limbs.
“Can you walk?”
“I believe so,” admitted Y’shtola as she slowly got up, not knowing what to make of this peculiar Ascian. “May I ask, why did you assist me?”
“Because I know of your exploits, Y’shtola, and I believe in your potential. It would be a waste for you to die here, so many mysteries still to solve and so many wonders left to see. So much I could show you.” The Ascian still spoke amicably, but there was a seriousness to her tone that was not present before, “I know you believe us all to be blind zealots of Zodiark, but I assure you all we want is a better world, the same as you. You have seen the sorry state of this star for yourself. The corruption, the violence, the hatred. The criminals that torment the good-hearted, the greedy who bleed the lands dry, and the empires that crush the weak.” She took a deep breath and took a brief look back out the cave towards the clear, afternoon sky. ”But I’ve also seen something else. What the world can be. A world of endless land and sky, of nature in balance everlasting, of people, full of life, devoted to the betterment of the star. That is what I fight for. That is what we can fight for.”
She reached her gloved hand out to the archon, who stared back at her, watching hesitantly, carefully, but not stepping away.
And then, the Ascian saw it. A brief moment of self-doubt. A split second of vulnerability. A consideration. The crack in the walls of Y’shtola’s soul.
And there, the Ascian had a choice. Follow her heart or perform her duty? The question tore at her mind, the question that never became easier no matter how many times it had confronted her over the eons.
In the end though, she knew what she was above all else. She was the adventurer. And she would help. However she could.