Three days after she'd entered the Catacombs, Estella emerged.
She would not go so far as to say she was a changed person, but... in the two days that had followed the encounter with whatever being had worn her father's face, she'd found that even the occasional demon could do little to disrupt her sense of place. If anything, she'd confirmed for herself her purpose, and armored herself against all the possible ways anything could think to tell her she could not or should not be there. It hadn't been roses, by any means, but it was with a pervasive sense of certainty that she followed Zathrand back out of the tombs and once more into direct sunlight. And back to the people who'd been waiting for her.
The Ghilan'al had done something, some kind of diagnostic spell, to check for signs of demonic possession, and she'd submitted to the examination without protest, patient until she was cleared. Whatever they thought of her, she'd passed their trial, and not even Lord Aedanthir tried to deny it.
Estella was exhausted, hungry, and covered in dust and moss when she folded herself into the collective embrace of the other four, but she was smiling nonetheless.
"You've earned yourself much with this," Asvhalla told her, leaning somewhat on her beautifully-carved staff. It was made of some pure white wood, hewn perfectly symmetrically, with an elegant focus in green set into the top. "Tomorrow, we will walk with you to the glades, and there you will make your claim. All of you should rest well in the meantime." With a small nod, she departed, leaving the group to make their own way back at whatever pace they saw fit.
It had to be a slow one, with Ves at her side. He looked significantly worse than when she'd gone in, as though the three days of her absence had aged him a number of years instead. At some point he'd acquired Astraia's staff for walking purposes. Astraia herself looked like she didn't quite know what to do with her hands without it, but of course she made no complaint.
"So you're all right?" Ves asked, studying her and trying to determine if anything was amiss. "Not being possessed isn't exactly a high standard of wellness by itself." He was obviously relieved that she'd passed that bar, at least.
"I'm all right," she confirmed. "It was... a strange experience. Parts of it I still need to make sense of." She didn't think that she'd really had enough time to decide exactly what, if anything, the whole thing had meant, to her and for her, but she also didn't feel any particular need to hurry that understanding. For now, she'd done it and it was over, and the last hurdle was the one that still lay in front of her.
For once in her life, she really believed she'd be able to clear it.
Gently, she took Ves's free hand in her own, mostly just because she wanted to hold it but also in case his balance failed him, and they started up the hillside that led away from the cave entrance. "Um... Harellan, you mentioned that this was some kind of rite of passage for the people here, right? Does that mean you did it as well?" She was curious as to what his experience had been like; whether it had resembled hers.
"I did." He glanced back over his shoulder a moment, having taken the lead position as they walked. "I suppose it is not entirely unlike a Harrowing—that thing they do with the Circle mages elsewhere. But it isn't just the mages. Anyone who might conceivably be given access to the Eluvian network at some point has to demonstrate that close proximity to the Fade will not be ruinous to them." He fell silent for a moment, picking his way up the slope with easy grace.
"It is also the time when we are given the names we use as adults. Names are significant for us; it is generally believed that we aren't sufficiently set in our characters to have a proper one until adulthood. Children have names of course, but it's well understood that they aren't permanent. And when one is cast out, one's name is taken, and replaced with something else. Such as mine." He smiled, sharp like the edge of a knife, but she could easily tell he wasn't directing any sort of hostility at her. "No doubt were it not for you, I would have found it much more difficult to walk openly here."
“No one has bothered you about it." Cyrus, walking behind them, didn't sound entirely convinced.
"That would be because the official tack is to behave as though I'm empty air. No doubt you've mostly met the exceptions rather than the rule, as we've been staying in my mother's home, with people I've known since birth. A bit harder for them to do."
Well, the use of that particular name certainly made sense now. Estella had wanted to ask if his real one was Telahn, as the vision of her father had called him, but it seemed like a sensitive topic, if names truly meant as much as all that, and she wasn't sure he'd want anyone to know. So she stifled the question, focusing on the walk instead, at least until they'd reached the bounds of the city once more and the going was easier.
The following morning, Estella woke to find that several maidservants were already in her room. She thought to protest when she was informed that they would be readying her for the day, but when they confirmed that this was mandated by Asvhalla as part of the necessary trappings of the events themselves, she acquiesced, allowing herself to be stripped, cleansed and dressed by efficient, practiced hands.
The garb of choice for today was white like the others had been, but sleeveless, the collar bearing elaborate stitching in pearlescent thread that only really showed up when she shifted and the angle of the light changed. Her hair was meticulously brushed until it shone, but left to hang loose behind her rather than tied out of her way. The robe itself fell to her knees, belted into place with a length of white braided rope, which she was informed was made from woven halla hair. She was given no shoes, and no weapons, and all of her bandages were left off. It felt like they picked every inch of her as clean as possible, from the dirt under her fingernails to every untoward speck of lint that dared sully the snowy linen.
She really couldn't imagine she'd remain this clean for even a few minutes, but it seemed to be important, so she didn't say that much. When they were satisfied, they ushered her out gently, telling her to make her way to the front of the house, where the others would be waiting.
There did, indeed, seem to be quite a number of others. Everyone, not just her, was garbed in white, but hers were the plainest. All eight Ghilan'al wore colorless versions of their official robes, and the small collection of soldiers with them even had armor, but it too was pale, as though it had been made from white ironwood or bone or something similar. Among them was Fenesvir, still looking a little wan but otherwise much recovered; he flashed her a brief smile.
Astraia's robe was similar in cut to Estella's, but tailored for her smaller size. She looked at home being barefoot, but not at all herself in all white. Estella had never seen her wear anything white before, actually, and the elf kept looking down at herself, smoothing the skirt, extremely self aware of any piece of grass or dirt that made its way onto her.
She had her staff back, which meant Ves was empty handed, save for a small knife now sheathed at his belt. His tunic was also sleeveless, something that highlighted how much more gaunt he'd become since the complications with Saraya began. The cleansing it seemed they'd also been given was able to take a few years off him, but he looked exhausted, almost certainly from lack of sleep. He wore white pants under the white tunic, ending in pale, bare feet as well. He offered a smile to her as she emerged, as good of one as he could muster.
Harellan and Cyrus stood next to them, dressed in a similar fashion also. The former seemed quite at home, while her brother picked with some disdain at the loose neck of the tunic, as though he wasn't quite comfortable with the way it lay on his skin. He'd retained his swords, now kept at his waist with a belt not dissimilar to hers.
No sooner had she joined them than Lord Aedanthir cleared his throat to speak. "You've passed your trials," he said, his tone neutral. "As a result, it has been decided that you are permitted to prove your claim in the way any other would, if they wished to gain admittance to house Saeris. The nature of this test is exceedingly confidential, and it would serve everyone well to remember that." Glancing over them with a weighty stare, he nodded once and turned on his heel, pausing only to gesture Asvhalla ahead of him.
It was she who led the way outside of the city; the procession caught the attention of no doubt every resident they passed. It seemed to have that sort of official gravity to it—Estella assumed there had to be some reason they were all dressed this way, for one thing. She wondered if this test was administered all that often. Surely not, if they kept the sort of meticulous track of marriages and children Harellan had suggested they did. Maybe it was designed just for this kind of purpose: if a bastard child claimed descent from someone in particular.
She felt a temptation to ask, but something about the atmosphere seemed to forbid it, render it superfluous. Noise was minimal as they walked, limited to the soft clanking of the soldiers' armor. She noted that the only slave present seemed to be Zathrand at the back of the group, and wondered if she should be concerned that they'd consciously chosen to include a healer.
But there was little point in thinking about it. There wasn't any turning back, not at this point. Not when she was so close. So Estella occupied herself with the walk instead, finding that the ground was not as unforgiving on her bare feet as she'd expected. For the most part, they walked a narrow path that seemed to have been deliberately put there, the dirt packed and smooth, the edges of it crisp. Gradually the ambient atmosphere of the city grew wilder again, the trees losing the signs of cultivation. Drooping vines clung to the branches; along the sides of the path, ferns grew thickly. She could hear the distant roar of another waterfall, and the calls of tropical birds high above.
Maybe it was just her, but the air seemed infused with something expectant, like a dam quietly and valiantly holding back a tide of water, but starting to creak, just a little. Reaching out, Estella brushed her fingertips over the petals of a bright orange lily specked with black, then skimmed them along the tops of a fern as high as her waist. If not for the path, it would have been very slow going, indeed.
As the walk continued, the roaring of the falls grew louder, and she could tell that they were orienting themselves towards it. They finally reached the river slightly upstream of it; just by peering ahead, she could see the cloud of mist and spray flung into the air by the falling water, feel the force of it through her bare feet, thrumming up into her chest.
It was then that Asvhalla stopped, turning around and facing the group at large. "This is as far as we go," she said, indicating herself and the rest of the native residents of Arlathan. "Harellan must remain here as well. The rest of you are permitted to accompany her; you will find what you seek at the bottom of the falls."
Estella's brows knit; she peered down the cliffside. It didn't seem like it would take a climb, exactly, but some parts of it were definitely more vertical than horizontal, and much of the ground appeared slick.
Harellan had clearly expected the caveat. "They think I would attempt to cheat the test for you." He smiled wryly, then took a few steps closer to place his hands on Estella's shoulders. "They'd be right if I needed to, but I don't." He looked to debate something with himself for a moment, then placed one palm on her cheek, speaking so low she almost couldn't hear him over the falling water. "What you see will scare you. Conquer your fear like you've conquered the rest."
She nodded slightly. "I'll do my best." An affirmation, not a hedge. Gently stepping away from him, she turned to the others. "Ves? If you want, I can..." Estella gestured vaguely with her hands.
"I think that would be best." He was certainly trying to conceal how bad a state he was in, but it was clear that even the walk this far hadn't been easy. He took his own look down the cliffside, gauging the difficulty. "I can make it with your help. I have to."
With a small noise to indicate her consent, Estella took up his hand in both of hers, opening the connection between her magic and his body, easing it forward the way she'd ease herself into hot water. Even like this, she could feel how much more fragile he was than he'd used to be, the fearful extent to which the troubles in his head were affecting the rest of him. But that was just another reason to take particular care with how she used the spells, and she focused on shoring up his strength and reflexes, lending him as much as she could. It had only been about four days since she'd completely drained herself, and this used most of what she'd regained, but she was fairly sure she could make the descent under her own power, and so she didn't think much of that.
When that was done, she heaved a sigh, glancing between Cy and Astraia. "I'll go first, I suppose." At least that way if she slipped or struggled somewhere, she could try and point them in some other direction.
The first bit was just a direct drop. Lowering herself to hang from her hands, Estella let go and fell a good five feet more before she landed. The ground was fairly dry, and she didn't have trouble staying upright, which was fortunate. Moving out of the way so the next of them could make it, she picked a likely looking path over the next rocky part, a little less sheer but definitely at greater risk of damaging their feet if they stepped wrong.
Ves made his way down after Cyrus, as her brother was perhaps a better indicator of how to approach the descent with a larger build and more weight. He looked much more focused immediately after her magic had taken effect in him, but there was still a fine tremor in his legs when he crouched down, in his arms when he lowered his weight. He kept his breathing steady and controlled, as though he was struggling to lift a great burden, not just his own body weight. Astraia followed him down, watching him carefully.
The look in his eyes was not so different from how he looked in battle. Intensely focused, alert and aware of his surroundings, focusing his efforts on the precise control of his body. It was hard to say how much Saraya was able to help him, or if at this point her presence was only ever an added difficulty. He took careful steps across the slick rocks, his hands almost always out and near the wall for potential support. Astraia navigated it carefully but with ease.
The descent continued in a sort of staircase pathway, only the steps were far too steep to take one leg at a time. The others could hop down, but Ves chose to lower himself to a seat on each one, sliding slowly down until his feet were planted below him. It quickly left the white of his tunic and pants darkened with bits of smeared mud on the rock. The mist from the falls had all of them damp by the time they made it much further, their assigned clothes sticking to their bodies in places.
Estella half-climbed, half-slid down a short embankment, hissing when her foot caught on a stone as she landed. It was enough to open up a cut on the arch; she stopped to dig it out of the ground so it wouldn't get anyone else, tossing it away into the clearing ahead.
By the time they reached ground, she was slick with sweat, neither the mist nor the humidity making it easy to stay dry. Her hair, heavy and long, bothered her most of all, but at least they'd finally gotten where they were going. She peered back up the climb, able to make out the figures still waiting at the top, but they weren't close enough to discern in any detail.
Exhaling, she waited for the others to reach the bottom before leading the way into the clearing. The falls ended in a large pool of water, probably three times as deep as she was tall, and quite wide. It was surrounded on all sides with a lush growth of grasses and moss, a wide circle above it open to sky. She couldn't see anything in the area that looked obviously like a test or anything like that; there were no altars, no elf-made structures, no signs of life or ritual to be seen.
She was pulling in a breath to speak when a low rumble started in the ground beneath her feet. Estella froze in place, glancing around as though to spot the cause. It took a moment, but the rumble became audible as well, a low, rolling sound like tumbling over one another, heavy and roughened. The air almost hummed with it.
The sound of the water falling behind her changed; Estella whipped around to see the falls spitting down the middle, the onrushing stream parting around an object in the center of—what?
The object disturbing the fall of the water was moving, emerging from the falls with obvious intent. the first impression she had was how green it was, saturated in the color to the point of brilliance, a gem-like hue only enhanced by the way the droplets of water upon it cast away the light. A rounded shape gave way to something elongated, but it wasn't until the entire horned head of the creature was free that Estella realized she was looking at a dragon. There was a dragon here, and she was completely without defenses.
A long, powerful neck followed its head from behind the falls, each few feet host to another curved spike, only a slightly darker shade of green than the scintillating hide. The eye she could see opened, a slit pupil contracting in the light. It moved down, fixing upon her, and its upper lip pulled back from ivory-colored teeth. Estella swallowed. The sound from before was it growling.
Cyrus was at her side almost immediately, stepping half a pace in front and drawing both falcata. The expression on his face was grim, but also almost... perplexed. Fascinated, certainly; it was not every day any of them saw such a creature up close. He didn't raise the weapons or attempt to attack—he probably wouldn't have been able to, given the distance involved. “Stellulam?" A dozen questions were implicit in the question. Cyrus was asking what she wanted him to do here, but also another handful of whys and hows, probably without expecting that she had any more answers than he did.
She didn't in fact have the answers to any of them. The dragon stepped off whatever hidden piece of solid ground it was planted on and into the water, the sheer size of its body displacing enough of the water in the pool that it flooded over the banks, nearly reaching their feet and swamping the bright grasses around them. With obvious intent, it swam in their direction, the rumbling around them dissipating slightly but not vanishing entirely. Maybe that was just the sound it made when it breathed normally.
Putting her hand on Cyrus's shoulder, Estella stepped forward so that she was even with him. "Don't hurt it," she said, brows knitting. "I think... can you feel that?"
It was hard to tell for sure, but she didn't think it was going to hurt them. Maybe that was just because it hadn't done so yet, and surely they could have been bathed in fire by this point if it had so desired. She could feel herself shaking; there was something about standing in the presence of a creature so much larger and more deadly than herself that stirred an instinctive fear in her, one that made it hard to resist the desire to run and hide. Everything in her was driving her to do just that, except for the one thought. The one thread of... familiarity? Or something not quite familiarity, but more abstract than that. It had no name she could give it, but it let her stay where she was, at least for now.
Ves was shaking as well, though it would be understandable if that was just a result of his physical state rather than any fear. Astraia, however, was quite clearly terrified. Even still, the head of her staff was pointed down and away, as though she was attempting to be as non-threatening as possible. She certainly had more potential to hurt the dragon than Ves did, given the power she'd previously demonstrated with her spells. Ves didn't even bother drawing the knife at his belt, as there was clearly no use for it even if they did have to defend themselves.
"Saraya would also like us not to fight, for what it's worth," he added, holding a hand out as though Astraia needed any encouragement to stay back. "I think she means that for all of us, but it might be she just wants me not to do anything stupid."
“It would be splendid if we had any idea what to do instead." Cyrus still watched the approaching dragon warily, but it might be that he felt some version of the same strange thing that she did, for he seemed... steady, almost. Either that or he was just holding himself together a bit better than the rest of them.
The dragon reached the edge of the pool, pulling itself out in a powerful motion, water cascading from its back and flanks. For a moment, it spread its wings as if it meant to fly, stretching the leathery membranes up towards the sky. The sun shone through them, exposing the darker lines of its blood vessels beneath the nearly translucent green webbing.
"Maybe I should..." Estella took a slow, careful step forward, holding both hands low, but slightly away from her body, making it as obvious as possible that she was without physical defenses. The dragon remained where it was, head slightly turned, clearly tracking her movement with the closer eye. This close, its size was even more obvious. She could stand between its two forelegs and her head would not brush its underside, though Cyrus's might.
She took another step, her wounded foot sinking slightly into the mud created when it had disturbed the water. The rumbling increased in volume, and for a moment she froze, afraid she'd provoked it somehow, but aside from the spike in noise level, nothing changed. It didn't move to attack her, nor did she find herself suddenly aflame or impaled. She had to believe that counted for something.
Conquer her fear, Harellan had said. Much easier to say than do, but...
Picking up her other foot, Estella slowly extended her arm until it was well in front of her body, trying to broadcast her intent in the plainest terms possible. She had a feeling that surprising it was the last thing she wanted to do. Her heart thundered in her chest, frantic and staccato, but she swallowed past the lump in her throat and kept moving forward.
Narrowing its eyes, the dragon shifted its head slightly, parting its jaws. For a horrifying moment, Estella imagined her death in a gout of flaming breath, but though it exhaled humid heat from its lungs, there was no fire. Instead, a serpentine tongue slid from its maw, flicking in the air as though tasting it. It inhaled, the force of its breath nearly enough to tug her another step forward on its own, and she had the distinct impression that it was... sniffing her.
She really hoped she didn't smell like dinner, and chanced another step forward, tilting her head upwards to make eye contact with it as well as their relative dimensions would allow.
The stalemate lasted for several long moments, in which she finally drew within range of it. The dragon did not move as she extended her hand the last few inches, brushing the very end of its nose with her fingertips. It expelled a breath, almost a huff, the gust picking her damp hair up from where it lay about her and stirring it backwards with a ripple. It was almost sticky, and frankly didn't smell very good, but... that wasn't so different from any other animal. She'd never call a dragon an animal, exactly, but the similarity emboldened her just enough that she shuffled forward another half-step, moving her hand back against the scales beneath it. They were smooth, like polished stones, and glinted every bit as brightly in the sun from overhead.
Estella shuddered, but fascination won out over fear, and she traced a few more of them with her fingers, studying the way they lay together, overlapping at irregular intervals, thickening closer to its brow ridges. It was still rumbling, but the tenor of the sound had shifted, softening again, and this close, she could see its sides shift in time with the noise.
"Um." Still not entirely sure of herself, she risked a quick glance back at the others, but the dragon's nose remained unmoving beneath her touch. "I think it's okay now. If... you wanted to see up close?" Maybe it was stupid of her, but she imagined that it might have been enjoying her ministrations, and the longer she had to get used to it, the more the rumbling sounded almost like purring.
“You think. That inspires so much confidence." Cyrus's face pulled into a grimace, but she could also easily spot his curiosity, practically shining out of his eyes in a way it hadn't in more than a year. Carefully, he returned his swords to their sheaths, though he took his cue from her and approached very slowly, his hands easily visible and empty. That wouldn't have meant anything, once upon a time, but now he was arguably more helpless in such condition than she was.
He stopped slightly to her left, frowning and taking in a deep breath. Even his obvious interest wasn't quite enough to banish all caution, clearly. When he reached forward, his whole arm shook, but it steadied upon contact. “Well, this is..." He cleared his throat, the words clearly failing, if only temporarily. “This is not something I imagined I'd ever do." He moved his hand just a bit, tracing the edge of one of the scales a little further back from where she was.
Ves and Astraia took a bit more time to approach, though Ves had lost most of his signs of fear upon seeing that the dragon welcomed the touch of both of them. Astraia began to approach after Cyrus did, slowly lowering her staff down to the ground and setting it there. Together they worked their way towards the side of the dragon's head, both of them eyeing it with unrestrained amazement.
"Only ever seen one of these at a distance," Ves said, reaching out to touch the scales. "Certainly never seen one that wouldn't eat me on sight."
"He's so beautiful." Astraia had a smile locked on her face now that the terror had slowly receded, and she placed both hands flat on the creature's neck. A look of uncertainty crossed her features. "Or... she? Can you tell?"
“I believe all high dragons are female, but we're probably better off if we don't try to confirm." Cyrus said it wryly, walking forward the several additional strides necessary to run a hand along one of the ridges at the creature's neck. “I have to say, if this doesn't qualify as proof, I've no idea what was supposed to happen instead."
Almost as if that were a cue, the dragon shifted, slowly extricating herself from the hands upon her. She raised and fanned out her wings again, which Estella interpreted as a signal that she was about to take off. "We'll want to get clear now," she said, backing up rather urgently.
No sooner than they were all a safe distance away did the dragon drive her wings towards the ground in a powerful motion, pushing herself off the ground simultaneously. Several more mighty flaps lofted her airborne, the wind buffeting all of those below. With a loud roar, she pointed her nose towards the sky and ascended, circling above the treeline several times before heading roughly westward.
"Congratulations." Estella swung around to face the speaker. It would appear that Asvhalla had made her way down the cliffside at some point, though she must have done so magically, because she bore none of the smears of dirt and sweat that befouled the rest of them. "The Ghilan'al acknowledge your blood claim, Eliana Saeris. Access to Vir Dirthara is yours."
She would not go so far as to say she was a changed person, but... in the two days that had followed the encounter with whatever being had worn her father's face, she'd found that even the occasional demon could do little to disrupt her sense of place. If anything, she'd confirmed for herself her purpose, and armored herself against all the possible ways anything could think to tell her she could not or should not be there. It hadn't been roses, by any means, but it was with a pervasive sense of certainty that she followed Zathrand back out of the tombs and once more into direct sunlight. And back to the people who'd been waiting for her.
The Ghilan'al had done something, some kind of diagnostic spell, to check for signs of demonic possession, and she'd submitted to the examination without protest, patient until she was cleared. Whatever they thought of her, she'd passed their trial, and not even Lord Aedanthir tried to deny it.
Estella was exhausted, hungry, and covered in dust and moss when she folded herself into the collective embrace of the other four, but she was smiling nonetheless.
"You've earned yourself much with this," Asvhalla told her, leaning somewhat on her beautifully-carved staff. It was made of some pure white wood, hewn perfectly symmetrically, with an elegant focus in green set into the top. "Tomorrow, we will walk with you to the glades, and there you will make your claim. All of you should rest well in the meantime." With a small nod, she departed, leaving the group to make their own way back at whatever pace they saw fit.
It had to be a slow one, with Ves at her side. He looked significantly worse than when she'd gone in, as though the three days of her absence had aged him a number of years instead. At some point he'd acquired Astraia's staff for walking purposes. Astraia herself looked like she didn't quite know what to do with her hands without it, but of course she made no complaint.
"So you're all right?" Ves asked, studying her and trying to determine if anything was amiss. "Not being possessed isn't exactly a high standard of wellness by itself." He was obviously relieved that she'd passed that bar, at least.
"I'm all right," she confirmed. "It was... a strange experience. Parts of it I still need to make sense of." She didn't think that she'd really had enough time to decide exactly what, if anything, the whole thing had meant, to her and for her, but she also didn't feel any particular need to hurry that understanding. For now, she'd done it and it was over, and the last hurdle was the one that still lay in front of her.
For once in her life, she really believed she'd be able to clear it.
Gently, she took Ves's free hand in her own, mostly just because she wanted to hold it but also in case his balance failed him, and they started up the hillside that led away from the cave entrance. "Um... Harellan, you mentioned that this was some kind of rite of passage for the people here, right? Does that mean you did it as well?" She was curious as to what his experience had been like; whether it had resembled hers.
"I did." He glanced back over his shoulder a moment, having taken the lead position as they walked. "I suppose it is not entirely unlike a Harrowing—that thing they do with the Circle mages elsewhere. But it isn't just the mages. Anyone who might conceivably be given access to the Eluvian network at some point has to demonstrate that close proximity to the Fade will not be ruinous to them." He fell silent for a moment, picking his way up the slope with easy grace.
"It is also the time when we are given the names we use as adults. Names are significant for us; it is generally believed that we aren't sufficiently set in our characters to have a proper one until adulthood. Children have names of course, but it's well understood that they aren't permanent. And when one is cast out, one's name is taken, and replaced with something else. Such as mine." He smiled, sharp like the edge of a knife, but she could easily tell he wasn't directing any sort of hostility at her. "No doubt were it not for you, I would have found it much more difficult to walk openly here."
“No one has bothered you about it." Cyrus, walking behind them, didn't sound entirely convinced.
"That would be because the official tack is to behave as though I'm empty air. No doubt you've mostly met the exceptions rather than the rule, as we've been staying in my mother's home, with people I've known since birth. A bit harder for them to do."
Well, the use of that particular name certainly made sense now. Estella had wanted to ask if his real one was Telahn, as the vision of her father had called him, but it seemed like a sensitive topic, if names truly meant as much as all that, and she wasn't sure he'd want anyone to know. So she stifled the question, focusing on the walk instead, at least until they'd reached the bounds of the city once more and the going was easier.
The following morning, Estella woke to find that several maidservants were already in her room. She thought to protest when she was informed that they would be readying her for the day, but when they confirmed that this was mandated by Asvhalla as part of the necessary trappings of the events themselves, she acquiesced, allowing herself to be stripped, cleansed and dressed by efficient, practiced hands.
The garb of choice for today was white like the others had been, but sleeveless, the collar bearing elaborate stitching in pearlescent thread that only really showed up when she shifted and the angle of the light changed. Her hair was meticulously brushed until it shone, but left to hang loose behind her rather than tied out of her way. The robe itself fell to her knees, belted into place with a length of white braided rope, which she was informed was made from woven halla hair. She was given no shoes, and no weapons, and all of her bandages were left off. It felt like they picked every inch of her as clean as possible, from the dirt under her fingernails to every untoward speck of lint that dared sully the snowy linen.
She really couldn't imagine she'd remain this clean for even a few minutes, but it seemed to be important, so she didn't say that much. When they were satisfied, they ushered her out gently, telling her to make her way to the front of the house, where the others would be waiting.
There did, indeed, seem to be quite a number of others. Everyone, not just her, was garbed in white, but hers were the plainest. All eight Ghilan'al wore colorless versions of their official robes, and the small collection of soldiers with them even had armor, but it too was pale, as though it had been made from white ironwood or bone or something similar. Among them was Fenesvir, still looking a little wan but otherwise much recovered; he flashed her a brief smile.
Astraia's robe was similar in cut to Estella's, but tailored for her smaller size. She looked at home being barefoot, but not at all herself in all white. Estella had never seen her wear anything white before, actually, and the elf kept looking down at herself, smoothing the skirt, extremely self aware of any piece of grass or dirt that made its way onto her.
She had her staff back, which meant Ves was empty handed, save for a small knife now sheathed at his belt. His tunic was also sleeveless, something that highlighted how much more gaunt he'd become since the complications with Saraya began. The cleansing it seemed they'd also been given was able to take a few years off him, but he looked exhausted, almost certainly from lack of sleep. He wore white pants under the white tunic, ending in pale, bare feet as well. He offered a smile to her as she emerged, as good of one as he could muster.
Harellan and Cyrus stood next to them, dressed in a similar fashion also. The former seemed quite at home, while her brother picked with some disdain at the loose neck of the tunic, as though he wasn't quite comfortable with the way it lay on his skin. He'd retained his swords, now kept at his waist with a belt not dissimilar to hers.
No sooner had she joined them than Lord Aedanthir cleared his throat to speak. "You've passed your trials," he said, his tone neutral. "As a result, it has been decided that you are permitted to prove your claim in the way any other would, if they wished to gain admittance to house Saeris. The nature of this test is exceedingly confidential, and it would serve everyone well to remember that." Glancing over them with a weighty stare, he nodded once and turned on his heel, pausing only to gesture Asvhalla ahead of him.
It was she who led the way outside of the city; the procession caught the attention of no doubt every resident they passed. It seemed to have that sort of official gravity to it—Estella assumed there had to be some reason they were all dressed this way, for one thing. She wondered if this test was administered all that often. Surely not, if they kept the sort of meticulous track of marriages and children Harellan had suggested they did. Maybe it was designed just for this kind of purpose: if a bastard child claimed descent from someone in particular.
She felt a temptation to ask, but something about the atmosphere seemed to forbid it, render it superfluous. Noise was minimal as they walked, limited to the soft clanking of the soldiers' armor. She noted that the only slave present seemed to be Zathrand at the back of the group, and wondered if she should be concerned that they'd consciously chosen to include a healer.
But there was little point in thinking about it. There wasn't any turning back, not at this point. Not when she was so close. So Estella occupied herself with the walk instead, finding that the ground was not as unforgiving on her bare feet as she'd expected. For the most part, they walked a narrow path that seemed to have been deliberately put there, the dirt packed and smooth, the edges of it crisp. Gradually the ambient atmosphere of the city grew wilder again, the trees losing the signs of cultivation. Drooping vines clung to the branches; along the sides of the path, ferns grew thickly. She could hear the distant roar of another waterfall, and the calls of tropical birds high above.
Maybe it was just her, but the air seemed infused with something expectant, like a dam quietly and valiantly holding back a tide of water, but starting to creak, just a little. Reaching out, Estella brushed her fingertips over the petals of a bright orange lily specked with black, then skimmed them along the tops of a fern as high as her waist. If not for the path, it would have been very slow going, indeed.
As the walk continued, the roaring of the falls grew louder, and she could tell that they were orienting themselves towards it. They finally reached the river slightly upstream of it; just by peering ahead, she could see the cloud of mist and spray flung into the air by the falling water, feel the force of it through her bare feet, thrumming up into her chest.
It was then that Asvhalla stopped, turning around and facing the group at large. "This is as far as we go," she said, indicating herself and the rest of the native residents of Arlathan. "Harellan must remain here as well. The rest of you are permitted to accompany her; you will find what you seek at the bottom of the falls."
Estella's brows knit; she peered down the cliffside. It didn't seem like it would take a climb, exactly, but some parts of it were definitely more vertical than horizontal, and much of the ground appeared slick.
Harellan had clearly expected the caveat. "They think I would attempt to cheat the test for you." He smiled wryly, then took a few steps closer to place his hands on Estella's shoulders. "They'd be right if I needed to, but I don't." He looked to debate something with himself for a moment, then placed one palm on her cheek, speaking so low she almost couldn't hear him over the falling water. "What you see will scare you. Conquer your fear like you've conquered the rest."
She nodded slightly. "I'll do my best." An affirmation, not a hedge. Gently stepping away from him, she turned to the others. "Ves? If you want, I can..." Estella gestured vaguely with her hands.
"I think that would be best." He was certainly trying to conceal how bad a state he was in, but it was clear that even the walk this far hadn't been easy. He took his own look down the cliffside, gauging the difficulty. "I can make it with your help. I have to."
With a small noise to indicate her consent, Estella took up his hand in both of hers, opening the connection between her magic and his body, easing it forward the way she'd ease herself into hot water. Even like this, she could feel how much more fragile he was than he'd used to be, the fearful extent to which the troubles in his head were affecting the rest of him. But that was just another reason to take particular care with how she used the spells, and she focused on shoring up his strength and reflexes, lending him as much as she could. It had only been about four days since she'd completely drained herself, and this used most of what she'd regained, but she was fairly sure she could make the descent under her own power, and so she didn't think much of that.
When that was done, she heaved a sigh, glancing between Cy and Astraia. "I'll go first, I suppose." At least that way if she slipped or struggled somewhere, she could try and point them in some other direction.
The first bit was just a direct drop. Lowering herself to hang from her hands, Estella let go and fell a good five feet more before she landed. The ground was fairly dry, and she didn't have trouble staying upright, which was fortunate. Moving out of the way so the next of them could make it, she picked a likely looking path over the next rocky part, a little less sheer but definitely at greater risk of damaging their feet if they stepped wrong.
Ves made his way down after Cyrus, as her brother was perhaps a better indicator of how to approach the descent with a larger build and more weight. He looked much more focused immediately after her magic had taken effect in him, but there was still a fine tremor in his legs when he crouched down, in his arms when he lowered his weight. He kept his breathing steady and controlled, as though he was struggling to lift a great burden, not just his own body weight. Astraia followed him down, watching him carefully.
The look in his eyes was not so different from how he looked in battle. Intensely focused, alert and aware of his surroundings, focusing his efforts on the precise control of his body. It was hard to say how much Saraya was able to help him, or if at this point her presence was only ever an added difficulty. He took careful steps across the slick rocks, his hands almost always out and near the wall for potential support. Astraia navigated it carefully but with ease.
The descent continued in a sort of staircase pathway, only the steps were far too steep to take one leg at a time. The others could hop down, but Ves chose to lower himself to a seat on each one, sliding slowly down until his feet were planted below him. It quickly left the white of his tunic and pants darkened with bits of smeared mud on the rock. The mist from the falls had all of them damp by the time they made it much further, their assigned clothes sticking to their bodies in places.
Estella half-climbed, half-slid down a short embankment, hissing when her foot caught on a stone as she landed. It was enough to open up a cut on the arch; she stopped to dig it out of the ground so it wouldn't get anyone else, tossing it away into the clearing ahead.
By the time they reached ground, she was slick with sweat, neither the mist nor the humidity making it easy to stay dry. Her hair, heavy and long, bothered her most of all, but at least they'd finally gotten where they were going. She peered back up the climb, able to make out the figures still waiting at the top, but they weren't close enough to discern in any detail.
Exhaling, she waited for the others to reach the bottom before leading the way into the clearing. The falls ended in a large pool of water, probably three times as deep as she was tall, and quite wide. It was surrounded on all sides with a lush growth of grasses and moss, a wide circle above it open to sky. She couldn't see anything in the area that looked obviously like a test or anything like that; there were no altars, no elf-made structures, no signs of life or ritual to be seen.
She was pulling in a breath to speak when a low rumble started in the ground beneath her feet. Estella froze in place, glancing around as though to spot the cause. It took a moment, but the rumble became audible as well, a low, rolling sound like tumbling over one another, heavy and roughened. The air almost hummed with it.
The sound of the water falling behind her changed; Estella whipped around to see the falls spitting down the middle, the onrushing stream parting around an object in the center of—what?
The object disturbing the fall of the water was moving, emerging from the falls with obvious intent. the first impression she had was how green it was, saturated in the color to the point of brilliance, a gem-like hue only enhanced by the way the droplets of water upon it cast away the light. A rounded shape gave way to something elongated, but it wasn't until the entire horned head of the creature was free that Estella realized she was looking at a dragon. There was a dragon here, and she was completely without defenses.
A long, powerful neck followed its head from behind the falls, each few feet host to another curved spike, only a slightly darker shade of green than the scintillating hide. The eye she could see opened, a slit pupil contracting in the light. It moved down, fixing upon her, and its upper lip pulled back from ivory-colored teeth. Estella swallowed. The sound from before was it growling.
Cyrus was at her side almost immediately, stepping half a pace in front and drawing both falcata. The expression on his face was grim, but also almost... perplexed. Fascinated, certainly; it was not every day any of them saw such a creature up close. He didn't raise the weapons or attempt to attack—he probably wouldn't have been able to, given the distance involved. “Stellulam?" A dozen questions were implicit in the question. Cyrus was asking what she wanted him to do here, but also another handful of whys and hows, probably without expecting that she had any more answers than he did.
She didn't in fact have the answers to any of them. The dragon stepped off whatever hidden piece of solid ground it was planted on and into the water, the sheer size of its body displacing enough of the water in the pool that it flooded over the banks, nearly reaching their feet and swamping the bright grasses around them. With obvious intent, it swam in their direction, the rumbling around them dissipating slightly but not vanishing entirely. Maybe that was just the sound it made when it breathed normally.
Putting her hand on Cyrus's shoulder, Estella stepped forward so that she was even with him. "Don't hurt it," she said, brows knitting. "I think... can you feel that?"
It was hard to tell for sure, but she didn't think it was going to hurt them. Maybe that was just because it hadn't done so yet, and surely they could have been bathed in fire by this point if it had so desired. She could feel herself shaking; there was something about standing in the presence of a creature so much larger and more deadly than herself that stirred an instinctive fear in her, one that made it hard to resist the desire to run and hide. Everything in her was driving her to do just that, except for the one thought. The one thread of... familiarity? Or something not quite familiarity, but more abstract than that. It had no name she could give it, but it let her stay where she was, at least for now.
Ves was shaking as well, though it would be understandable if that was just a result of his physical state rather than any fear. Astraia, however, was quite clearly terrified. Even still, the head of her staff was pointed down and away, as though she was attempting to be as non-threatening as possible. She certainly had more potential to hurt the dragon than Ves did, given the power she'd previously demonstrated with her spells. Ves didn't even bother drawing the knife at his belt, as there was clearly no use for it even if they did have to defend themselves.
"Saraya would also like us not to fight, for what it's worth," he added, holding a hand out as though Astraia needed any encouragement to stay back. "I think she means that for all of us, but it might be she just wants me not to do anything stupid."
“It would be splendid if we had any idea what to do instead." Cyrus still watched the approaching dragon warily, but it might be that he felt some version of the same strange thing that she did, for he seemed... steady, almost. Either that or he was just holding himself together a bit better than the rest of them.
The dragon reached the edge of the pool, pulling itself out in a powerful motion, water cascading from its back and flanks. For a moment, it spread its wings as if it meant to fly, stretching the leathery membranes up towards the sky. The sun shone through them, exposing the darker lines of its blood vessels beneath the nearly translucent green webbing.
"Maybe I should..." Estella took a slow, careful step forward, holding both hands low, but slightly away from her body, making it as obvious as possible that she was without physical defenses. The dragon remained where it was, head slightly turned, clearly tracking her movement with the closer eye. This close, its size was even more obvious. She could stand between its two forelegs and her head would not brush its underside, though Cyrus's might.
She took another step, her wounded foot sinking slightly into the mud created when it had disturbed the water. The rumbling increased in volume, and for a moment she froze, afraid she'd provoked it somehow, but aside from the spike in noise level, nothing changed. It didn't move to attack her, nor did she find herself suddenly aflame or impaled. She had to believe that counted for something.
Conquer her fear, Harellan had said. Much easier to say than do, but...
Picking up her other foot, Estella slowly extended her arm until it was well in front of her body, trying to broadcast her intent in the plainest terms possible. She had a feeling that surprising it was the last thing she wanted to do. Her heart thundered in her chest, frantic and staccato, but she swallowed past the lump in her throat and kept moving forward.
Narrowing its eyes, the dragon shifted its head slightly, parting its jaws. For a horrifying moment, Estella imagined her death in a gout of flaming breath, but though it exhaled humid heat from its lungs, there was no fire. Instead, a serpentine tongue slid from its maw, flicking in the air as though tasting it. It inhaled, the force of its breath nearly enough to tug her another step forward on its own, and she had the distinct impression that it was... sniffing her.
She really hoped she didn't smell like dinner, and chanced another step forward, tilting her head upwards to make eye contact with it as well as their relative dimensions would allow.
The stalemate lasted for several long moments, in which she finally drew within range of it. The dragon did not move as she extended her hand the last few inches, brushing the very end of its nose with her fingertips. It expelled a breath, almost a huff, the gust picking her damp hair up from where it lay about her and stirring it backwards with a ripple. It was almost sticky, and frankly didn't smell very good, but... that wasn't so different from any other animal. She'd never call a dragon an animal, exactly, but the similarity emboldened her just enough that she shuffled forward another half-step, moving her hand back against the scales beneath it. They were smooth, like polished stones, and glinted every bit as brightly in the sun from overhead.
Estella shuddered, but fascination won out over fear, and she traced a few more of them with her fingers, studying the way they lay together, overlapping at irregular intervals, thickening closer to its brow ridges. It was still rumbling, but the tenor of the sound had shifted, softening again, and this close, she could see its sides shift in time with the noise.
"Um." Still not entirely sure of herself, she risked a quick glance back at the others, but the dragon's nose remained unmoving beneath her touch. "I think it's okay now. If... you wanted to see up close?" Maybe it was stupid of her, but she imagined that it might have been enjoying her ministrations, and the longer she had to get used to it, the more the rumbling sounded almost like purring.
“You think. That inspires so much confidence." Cyrus's face pulled into a grimace, but she could also easily spot his curiosity, practically shining out of his eyes in a way it hadn't in more than a year. Carefully, he returned his swords to their sheaths, though he took his cue from her and approached very slowly, his hands easily visible and empty. That wouldn't have meant anything, once upon a time, but now he was arguably more helpless in such condition than she was.
He stopped slightly to her left, frowning and taking in a deep breath. Even his obvious interest wasn't quite enough to banish all caution, clearly. When he reached forward, his whole arm shook, but it steadied upon contact. “Well, this is..." He cleared his throat, the words clearly failing, if only temporarily. “This is not something I imagined I'd ever do." He moved his hand just a bit, tracing the edge of one of the scales a little further back from where she was.
Ves and Astraia took a bit more time to approach, though Ves had lost most of his signs of fear upon seeing that the dragon welcomed the touch of both of them. Astraia began to approach after Cyrus did, slowly lowering her staff down to the ground and setting it there. Together they worked their way towards the side of the dragon's head, both of them eyeing it with unrestrained amazement.
"Only ever seen one of these at a distance," Ves said, reaching out to touch the scales. "Certainly never seen one that wouldn't eat me on sight."
"He's so beautiful." Astraia had a smile locked on her face now that the terror had slowly receded, and she placed both hands flat on the creature's neck. A look of uncertainty crossed her features. "Or... she? Can you tell?"
“I believe all high dragons are female, but we're probably better off if we don't try to confirm." Cyrus said it wryly, walking forward the several additional strides necessary to run a hand along one of the ridges at the creature's neck. “I have to say, if this doesn't qualify as proof, I've no idea what was supposed to happen instead."
Almost as if that were a cue, the dragon shifted, slowly extricating herself from the hands upon her. She raised and fanned out her wings again, which Estella interpreted as a signal that she was about to take off. "We'll want to get clear now," she said, backing up rather urgently.
No sooner than they were all a safe distance away did the dragon drive her wings towards the ground in a powerful motion, pushing herself off the ground simultaneously. Several more mighty flaps lofted her airborne, the wind buffeting all of those below. With a loud roar, she pointed her nose towards the sky and ascended, circling above the treeline several times before heading roughly westward.
"Congratulations." Estella swung around to face the speaker. It would appear that Asvhalla had made her way down the cliffside at some point, though she must have done so magically, because she bore none of the smears of dirt and sweat that befouled the rest of them. "The Ghilan'al acknowledge your blood claim, Eliana Saeris. Access to Vir Dirthara is yours."