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The wind howled as three figures trekked across the Frostback Mountains. The trail was not easy, and it had grown harder to travel once the sun had disappeared behind the towering mountain formations. Nevertheless, the group kept a reasonable pace. Though the snow proved to be an inconvenience. When it was midnight and the storm was at its peak, only then did they stop.
The cave was no inn at Val Royeaux, but it sufficed to say it was shelter from the raging storm. One of the travellers pulled off their gloves to warm their frostbit fingers from the bitter cold. Their makeshift fire crackled and sputtered, dying a slow and painful death. After a while, all that remained was remnants of a raging inferno, embers to remind them that it was a dangerous world where they lived. They could easily die from frostbite as well as any human who didn’t see them as people, but rather animals. Yes, it was a dangerous world.
The one without gloves pulled back their hood to reveal a weary face. He looked worn, for his age. His skin was soft and wrinkle free, but his eyes showed that he had seen a lot for someone who had not yet seen the light of 28 years. His hazel colored eyes glared at the dead embers. He had left his home twelve days ago, and already he had seen the best and worst of humanity. Mage or not, the people degraded him. Dehumanized him to make it seem as if he was an animal that deserved to be beat. It had taken its toll on him. His older sister fared no better.
Her aquamarine eyes had lost their spark many years ago, but now they looked almost lifeless. Cold and calculating, he concluded, not lifeless. She was the eldest of the three travellers. It was her sole duty to make sure that they all made it to their destination. A weight she wished she did not have. Her wavy auburn hair stuck to her head, damp now that the snow caught in her hair had melted. Her cracked and bruised lips struggled to form silent words. Curled up with her cloak, she looked younger than she was. Almost frightened. She unwrapped the cloak from around herself and slowly, she sat up. Still chanting a silent incantation, she raised a hand. The air around her seemed to hum with energy. She closed her eyes, deep in focus, still chanting. The cooled embers sparked back to life, flames even hotter and brighter than before. She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Still cold and calculating.
The last of the three hadn’t moved for the duration of their resting period. She was sprawled out on the cold rock. The boy had thought that she was dead for a moment, but was reassured when he saw the puffs of air enter and exit through her nostrils. Sweat coated her forehead and made her skin appear almost luminescent. She was no master of the arcane arts like her sister or a sneaky thief like her brother. No, she relied on brute strength alone. Her muscles screamed from the pain, but she did not complain. Her suffering was silent, only made known by the occasional moan when she exhaled. The armor she wore was heavy, almost too heavy for someone her size, but she argued that it was better to be worn out than dead. Oh how she was right.
The morning she and her siblings headed out, they had been jumped by bandits prowling the trade routes for anyone in a group of four or less. One had tried to stab her in the abdomen, but she was lucky. The same armor she had complained about hours earlier had saved her life. Now, she welcomed the searing pain in her muscles. It was a sign that she was still alive, and not buried on the side of the road.
The boy looked to his sisters and wondered how it had come to this. A few weeks earlier, he would have begged the Keeper to let him explore a world he was not experienced with. Now, he longed for the familiar touch of his mother, the kind words of his father, and most of all, the crisp kiss of the fresh woodland air. It wasn’t an easy life, but one he was content with. Hard work had made him grateful for the things he had. A loving older sister who would become Keeper one day. A fierce younger sister who would have a role in the clan as warleader. The seasons changed, and he had weathered many hardships, but the one thing that was always constant, was the support of his family.
The warrior shuddered, her armor clanking against the stone floor. Regaining her strength, she sat up to face her two siblings. She noticed that the fire was lit again and looked to her sister, who only mirrored her own stoic face. Though her own sister was a mage, it didn’t mean that she condemned the rash actions one performed when pressured by a templar. She would always side with her sister, but not with mages. You are not like them, she argued, they are monsters who kill people. Her brother felt differently. He would always side with the mages, but not because of his sister. He felt that it was only right that they have their freedom. However, the mage of the group felt differently. Her beliefs contrasted those of her brother and sister alike. She felt that the mages needed protection, but in a controlled environment. It was the only topic where they stood divided. Well, that and religion.
The warrior opened her mouth to say something, but the words died on her lips. She didn’t want to start an argument. Not now, not when they were stuck in a cave, waiting out a brutal storm. She exhaled sharply. The fire wasn’t much help, but it was all that stood between her and freezing to death.
Her brother noticed that while she gazed into the fire, the flames danced in her eyes. Partially because she had reflective eyes, but also because there was a tenacity to her nature. She held so much anger and rage, but he didn’t know why. He had asked her on many occasions, but she never gave a clear answer.
The mage cleared her throat, a sign that she wanted to speak. Though she was quiet in nature, subtle actions like that stated that she commanded respect. She held raw power like her sister, a growing ferocity, but it was all controlled. She almost never made a wrong move, and always kept her emotions in check. Like her brother, she had a compassionate side, but she never let it get the better of her. She was better off being known as cold and heartless than caring too much. Perhaps if she hadn’t been born a mage, then it would not have been a problem. But she was, and it meant that she was destined to be clan Keeper one day. And that signaled that she would have to be groomed and prepped to be a leader, whether she liked it or not.
“Brother, Sister, I think it is time we continued on.”
That was all she said, but they knew that it was a command, not a suggestion. And so they grabbed their belonging. A stave, a bow, and a sword. Appropriate weapons for a mage, a rogue, and a warrior.
The snow blanketed the road, but it was not too troublesome that it made walking impossible. The warrior griped about her sore body, but did not slow them down. In fact, she was leading the group, perhaps because she was better equipped for an attack from the front. Her brother followed her, then came her sister. The sky stumbled between night and day, like a drunk man walking. When it was dawn, they came upon the crest of the mountain. And they saw it. Their destination. The sight was breathtaking, almost picturesque. Tall, snowcapped mountains, a grand temple dedicated to a long dead prophet, and a swarm of mages and templars alike.
The eldest at the three released a dramatic sigh. She was glad that they arrived at their destination, but she had an uneasy feeling about it all. However, she pushed it to the side. Afterall, it was in the best interest of the clan to learn what was happening at the Conclave. Little did she know in that moment, it was her last day she'd ever experience true peace.