albany

TwO WEEKS until THE Celebration OF RISEN sUNS

They were seven days into their journey. It was dusk. Crickets chirped and cinagas hissed in tune with the setting sun. The mountains of eastern Sol Victus had melted into hills and then plains, with tall golden grains and grass that sang soft songs in the summer breeze.

The caravan had stopped for the night in the bend of a narrow river, strong-sided with water of dark blue. A few water-trees grew on the banks, wide and thick with enough cover for a few to sleep underneath. A clearing had been made by travelers before them, remnants of agna krystallin from moons ago stood in the center, all shards and scorch.

The folks of the Caravan had begun to layer the ground with woven blankets, wrapping wide and long pashminas around themselves (nothing more was needed for cover in the Victusian night). They chewed on the fresh fruits they had picked up along the way, idly chatting as the sun fell further and further in the horizon.

“Can you smell that?” Viaris asked Albany, eyes softly shut as the amber rays of setting sun lit her face.

Albany sniffed, only smelling dirt, the stream, and the cooking meat, “Nothing unusual. Is something wrong?”

Viaris chuckled, falling back onto her blanket, shaking her head, “No, no. It’s the salt. I haven’t smelled it in years.”

“Salt?” Albany asked, face turning southward. “You can smell the sea from all the way up here?”

“The sea never leaves you, it just calls you back,” Viaris sighed, looking, for a moment, much younger than she actually was.

One of the apprentices brought over a few kabobs of onions and red meat, swathed in large, waxy leaf. They bowed their head briefly as Albany and Viaris took them gratefully.

“I can’t wait to get to Diamus,” Albany said in between bites of food. “And see the sea. I’ve never seen it up close before.”

“So you tell me,” Viaris hummed between bites, crossing her legs, looking out at the clearing and campground of fellow apprentices.

The sun began its quick descent, the crickets beginning their nightly serenade to the stars as the apprentices began to wrap themselves in their ornate cloths. The world was winding down for yet another night.

“When we’re in Daimus, see if you can find a way to learn how to etch Kohn Verma,” Viaris said suddenly, eyes wide open, nearly blank as they surveyed the sky of many stars.

Albany quirked an eyebrow, lying down as well, “That would be cool, but what purpose would I have for that? I’m not a scribe, astrologer, or cave-keeper. Are you trying to change my role at the Temple?” A small jest.

Viaris didn’t reply right away but continued to stare at the budding stars.

“You’re right where you need to be. At the Temple and otherwise.” Her eyes were drifting shut, and her breaths going even.

Albany looked up as well, trying not to dwell.

...

...

...

...

So she dreamt.

...

The air was the color of fresh blood, the scent of iron gagging her as she fell to her knees. The soil was orange and metallic, silver liquid metal coated her hands and legs, moving like water.

Pained cries of the commons echoed off of shattered pillars, once alabaster, now in ruin. Thunder roared overhead but never ended. The skies were angry and the air was choking.

The body, perhaps her body, fell to the side, curling fetally and praying to the Gods. The ones that she knew. Not the ones that filled the air and her lungs. This was not their world was it?

Albany wondered.

Around them lay the broken bones and flesh of those who had already fallen. They laid with sightless eyes, yet still reflecting the horror around them. Limbs twisted unnaturally with trauma, blood, mixing with the liquid metal pooling on the ground. She was horrified, stunned.

...

There was a cry that thrummed over the thunder.

A screech that carried, causing the earth and clouds and souls of the many to moan in spirit. It was an old sound that was seldom heard, yet they all knew it well. All beings of Aeterna felt a tearing in their soul. The air shook with power as the dead eyes of the many rolled into life once more.

And thunder poured from the heavens.

...-

Albany awoke with a start, jolting awake on her back. Her pulse raced and her mind swam. She was not new to nightmares, but it was rare she had one so vivid. She ran a hand over her face, adjusting to the starlit darkness.

It must’ve been hours until sunrise still, the creepings of a dawn sun still well put to rest in the vacant, black horizon. It was far too early for her to be awake.

A quick glance around showed the fellow priestesses and priests sleeping soundly, nestled together and wrapped up. The solixen dozed in a nearby pasture with the other mounts all except for one cmonphis that patrolled around the clearing, keeping guard.

Her heart was thumping in her chest, sweat dripping down her brow and neck. Terror had furrowed her chest, pain and fear carving it. She placed a shaking hand over her heart, stunned and shocked.

What kind of dream was that?

Albany had never personally had a prophetic dream before, but she knew of many apprentices and prophets who were all too familiar with them. Most manifested the ability young. Albany was beyond her twentieth passing off the sun-

It was just a weird dream.

But, it felt like more than that.

She laid back down, the ground feeling colder and harder than before. Viaris has rolled away from her at some point, cuddling with Albany’s leorelle, the two purring.

Albany hugged herself, rubbing her arms and counting her breath.

One...

Two...

One...

Two...

Gods and Goddesses...

What was that dream?

She had experienced many nightmares in her years, but never anything like this. The raw terror and vividness of it all stung and ached even as she tried to rein her mind in.

The clouds of the night were thin, a sliver of moon peeking between the puffs occasionally. Diovis’s swathes of stars and color twinkled down, coloring Albany’s skin with a soft purple hue.

She softly shut her eyes, listening to her pounding heart.

Gods and Goddesses,

Please,

Have that what I just dreamt,

was nothing more than that-

a dream.

I’m not in the business of becoming a prophet.

I quite like who I am and I grateful to you all for that.

Blessed be,

She signed the prakriti, fingers to the forehead, sternum, and lips.

Mind,

Body,

And spirit.

Her breathing began to fall even, the calming darkness of an unremembered dream gripping her.