“I apologize for the uncomfortable ride, but no centaur willingly wears a saddle.”

“Well, if it can’t be helped,” the man said sardonically as he straddled Tova’s back. He held on to the packs to steady himself as Tova stood. He wondered if he should be hugging the centaur’s torso. He immediately rejected the idea. That can’t be polite, can it, for a guy who’s half horse? He thought. 

“We’re going to move fast. Hold on as best you can, Herald.”

“Okay, you’re going to have to call me something else. I don’t know if I’m your prophet, and I’m not taking that title.”

“You got something you want to be called? That’s one of the things the stories always start with - the naming.”

“What’s a good name, you think? Believe me, nothing is coming to mind for me.”

“You want me to name you?” Genuine shock filled Tova’s voice. “That’s -”

“Don’t tell me that’s what sages do. I don’t care about sages, I just want something to go by other than ‘hey you’ or ‘Herald.’”

Tova mulled it over for a moment.

“What do you think of Ashwin? It’s an old name from my clan. A hero’s name.”

The man said the name a few times. 

“Doesn’t feel like mine, but I’ll get used to it. Okay, let’s go see this sage of yours. And maybe get something more comfortable to wear. These shoes are useless.”

With that, Tova took off, and the world again became a blur. The man - “Ashwin,” he muttered, still feeling out in his mouth - kept his head low and held on as tightly as he could. He felt it was his first time riding something living, and he had trouble getting into the rhythm of the thing. His body bounced against Tova’s flanks painfully. 

As they rode, he saw the landscape shift. The trees grew larger, thicker in circumference and tall enough to hide away all direct sunlight. They traveled long enough for Ashwin to grow bored with the experience and ready to have his feet on the ground.

Finally Tova slowed to a walk as the trees grew more measured from each other and the sky could be seen again through the canopy. Greenery spread over the ground, but this seemed more lush and cultivated than the ferns and moss of the forest. Rectangular cabins with wooden shingles began to appear, grouping together the further they traveled until they made up most of the landscape. A diverse array of peoples populated the area - people with animal-esque bodies, people with horns, more centaurs, people with long ears and gray skin, as well as humans of every description.

People took notice of Tova and Ashwin, and as the two passed by they stopped to stare. The beaten earthen road widened, and the buildings became more utilitarian and mercantile. They passed a long wooden cabin surrounded by a wooden deck that was filled with people sitting at floor tables and drinking from small earthenware cups, yelling and bickering and flirting and gambling with each other.. 

“Oi, Captain, never thought I’d see the day when you’d let a human ride you,” a squat man in a rounded steel helmet called out from a game of dice.

“Your observations aren’t wanted when you’re off duty,” Tova called back gruffly. “Get back to your ona if you’re not drunk enough to mind your own business.”

“Am I a secret?” Ashwin asked quietly, trying not to meet eyes with any of the gawkers.

“No, but we’ll be mobbed if they think you’re the prophet,” Tova said as he approached a wooden wall with an arched entryway that surrounded a tall pointed building centered within. Images of plants and animals were carved into the wall, and it was colorfully painted. The tall, relatively thin building gave Ashwin the impression of witches, though he was not sure why. Its wooden shingles were bright yellow and reflected the sunlight that managed to reach it quite dazzlingly.  

Tova passed through the arch into a courtyard thick with greenery and flowers that covered all but stoney paths that snaked around the yard. A small shed sat in one corner of the grounds, and short fruit trees were planted haphazardly around the yard. They were covered in bright, multicolored ribbons and wooden chimes. The central building grew up two stories above the courtyard, old, polished wood and yellow shingles rooved at sharp angles.

“This is our shrine.” Tova lowered himself, and Ashwin slipped off his back. “It wasn’t too rough for you, was it?”

“I’m fine,” Ashwin said awkwardly, cringing at the tight pain in his legs and back. “Hopefully it’s the only time I ever need to hitch a ride with you.”

“Tova!” An old man, clean-shaven with an unbent back, stood at the door of the shrine’s building. He wore an outfit similar to Ashwin’s, the short robe and wide, black trousers, though his robe was black rather than red. “Is this he?”

“I believe so, Sage Ossar,” Tova said with a small bow of his head. “He wears a sage’s garb, and he has no memories of a name or a home. He was not far from where you told us he would be.”

“And what of the restlessness in the forest? The wind is chattering to me today.”

Tova glanced down at Ashwin and cleared his throat.

“There are mages in the forest, but none followed our trail. However, there was one who was with the Herald when we found him. He says she accompanied him as he found his way through the forest, and that she did nothing suspicious, but -”

“She wasn’t a threat,” Ashwin interrupted bluntly. “I don’t care what you smelled on her. She didn’t deserve to be killed.”

Ossar approached them swiftly, startling Ashwin into taking a step back. The sage took no notice of Ashwin’s wariness, leaning close to the supposed prophet’s face and staring into his eyes. He nodded.

“The halo of gold circles the black iris. And shadow surrounds him. A trace of a mage’s power is here, yes. You say she wasn’t a threat?”

Ashwin carefully took another step back. 

“I knew her as well as I know you or the big guy over there. Which is to say, not at all,” he said sternly. “All I know is that she was in the same clearing as I was when I woke up, and she seemed just as confused as I was.”

“She was there when you awoke?” Ossar nodded. “Was she asleep, or awake?”

“Oh. Uh.” Ashwin thought for a moment. “She actually woke me up, I think.”

“Can you describe her clothes to me?”

“Really? That’s important?” Ashwin waved his arms wide around his body. “A really full skirt or robe that hit her ankles. It was blue.”

“Mage uniform,” Tova muttered. “I saw it as well, Sage.”

“So. A woman in a mage’s robes woke you in a forest clearing, claiming she, too, had woken with no memories and no name.” Ossar arched an eyebrow. “And that does not seem suspicious to you.”

“No? Why should it be? I don’t know why it should be!” Ashwin’s irritation finally rose to anger, breaking through whatever was suppressing his emotions. His jaw clenched and his words came from him in a growl. “I am in a strange land, I know no one, I know nothing about who you are, what mages are, what the hell you mean by shadows surrounding me, and I sure as hell don’t know what you mean by me being a prophet. The only thing I know is that a wolfman named Arhad murdered a perfectly nice woman in front of me, and a centaur named Tova gave me a sandwich. So please don’t act as if I should know better than to talk to strange women wearing blue robes in the woods.”

“Well. That’s me told,” Ossar said with a small smile. He nodded at Tova. “Captain, if you could, I think the Herald needs some time. And please keep the knowledge that he’s here under wraps for now - he must accept the role of his own volition, not due to the pressure of the mob.”

“Understood.” Tova nodded at Ashwin. “I hope to know you better, Ashwin, whether you are the Herald or not.”

The centaur left the courtyard, closing the large doors of the entrance behind him.

“Luckily for you, no one chose to speak to the shadows today,” Ossar said, turning and walking toward the central structure. “We are alone, for now, and no one would come through the doors while they were closed unless it was an emergency.”

“Okay, that’s good, I suppose?” Ashwin walked after the sage glancing around at the grounds - “Can you tell me where we are?”

“This is a shrine of Namilun,” Ossar said, not slowing his stride as he ushered Ashwin within. “When one wishes to commune with the shadows, they come here to give offerings and tie their prayers to life and ask for Namilun’s assistance. As with any god, Namilun will answer depending on His will.”

Ashwin blinked in the sudden brightness of the inner shrine. He looked around, unsure of where the light was coming from, but it felt brighter than the filtered sunlight of the forest. The walls, ceiling and floor was heavily waxed and lacquered wood that shined like polished copper. Carvings covered every inch of the walls and ceilings, scenes of forests and animals, flowers and fish, birds and insects, and humanoids both beast-like and hairless. A stone altar that reached his waist stood in the center of the room, covered in fruit, grains, and prepared foods. Man-sized wind chimes were hung above the altar, with large cords hanging from them, he assumed to ring the chimes by hand. A large woven basket full of ribbons sat in front of the altar. He could see a hallway that led off from the central room, as well as an open doorway to his left with nothing beyond its frame but darkness.

It seemed to be a well-cared-for shrine, which spoke of a devout population of whatever it was the believers of Namilun called themselves. And there seemed to be no blood stains around the altar, so hopefully their offerings were not required to be living beings. What was disconcerting to him was how at home he felt in the building - it was almost a sense of relief from an anxiety that he did not realize he was suffering from.

Almost without thought, he approached the altar and rang one of the chimes. The dull wooden tones echoed around the room, which he was pretty sure was not a normal thing for such a cozy place. Then he took a ribbon and wrapped it around his wrist.

“I’m supposed to wear this for a while,” he murmured. “And then tie it to a tree to let it rot away, to let the prayer enter the cycle of life.”

The hairs on the back of his neck rose and he shuttered. He looked hard at Ossar.

“How did I know that?”

Ossar was smiling. He shrugged, hiding his hands away in his sleeves.

“I can tell you that the stories speak of the Heralds knowing the ways of Namilun without knowing themselves, but I am unsure if that’s enough of an explanation for you.”

“Heralds? There’s more than one?”

“Well, there’s one every era, but as of now, including you, there have been six.” Ossar shook his head. “Enough of these piecemeal explanations. You are in Donthan, the central commune of the Namulinians. Our territory makes up the whole of the Orenna forest, though there are dark places where the witches of Alyuna reside. Alyuna is another goddess, though we have no argument with her or her followers. It is the mages and their god Pailon who threaten us.”

“So the witches aren’t mages?” Ashwin asked slowly. “But both witches and mages are associated with magic, right?”

Ossar chuckled. “As are the sages of Namilun. I don’t know what realm you hail from, but in this world magic is simply the name for the power drawn from the makeup of the universe - from life, from matter, from light, from shadow. It is a common thing to use, even on continents beyond Medoreno. Of which there are quite a few, to my understanding.”

“So I’m in a world filled with magic,” Ashwin said, running a finger along the ribbon. He suddenly noticed roughness around his knuckles, and rubbed on them, wondering what about them spoke to his unremembered past. “And there are multiple gods here people follow. What’s this Namilun supposed to be like? What is he a god of?”

“Would you like to ask him yourself?”

Ashwin flinched and turned to Ossar. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well, it would be a very poor prophet who could not commune with his god, don’t you think?” Ossar gestured to the darkened doorway. “That is the room of shadow. Not named imaginatively, but it is what every shrine calls it - the place where one can directly speak to Namilun if one’s needs are most fervent. Enter the room, close the curtain behind you, and talk to our lord, and he will surely give you the answers you seek.”

“It’s that easy?” Ashwin took a few steps toward the door. “It can’t be that easy. I’m almost sure it’s not supposed to be that easy to talk to a god.”

“I can’t guarantee that he’ll speak back directly,” Ossar said with a chuckle. “But I know that I myself have had interesting dreams after a talk. It’s how I was able to know where you’d be and what to expect of your appearance.”

“Interesting dreams. Okay.” He shrugged and entered the room, and immediately felt the weight of the darkness. The light of the room beyond stopped at the door frame, giving the impression that he had just walked out of a painting into nothingness.

“Uh, I can’t see anything in here.”

“Yes, that’s the point. If you feel around the edges of the door, you’ll find the curtain.”

Ashwin sighed and scrabbled around the edge of the door until his hands found cloth, and he pulled the curtain over the door.

Instantly he felt as if he were in a much larger space. The darkness was all-consuming, untouched. For the first time all day, he felt his body tingle with fear. He turned slowly and took a few steps into the nothingness. They echoed in the space, as if reverberating off the walls of some vast cavern. 

“Uh. Hello?” His voice echoed as well, and the uncanny nature of the darkness made his breathing quicken. “Uh, I’ve come to talk to Namilun. I was told he’s a god, and I’m his prophet?”

He listened for a moment, but there was no sound but his own heartbeat. Gradually his fear lessened, and his irritation began to grow again.

“Okay. Well, this was pointless,” he grumbled.

“You’re very irreverent for a prophet.”

Ashwin yelped and turned, trying his hardest to focus on anything in the darkness. “Who’s there?”

A flash of red light appeared before him, making him flinch back and blink. As his eyes gradually grew used to the light, he realized that it was coming from the form of a man who hovered in front of him, arms crossed and frowning.

“You look sharp, Ashwin,” he said, nodding as if in approval. “Not a bad name you chose for yourself, by the way. Not all the prophets go with something solid. Had one named Brorar a few eras ago. What a mess in the mouth that name was.”

“Thanks,” Ashwin replied weakly. “I assume you’re, ah…”

“Namilun. I’ve got other names - Lord of Shadows, Scarlett Man, Scourge of Light, it goes on. Please don’t call me any of those, it’s embarrassing.”

“Noted. Uh.” Ashwin ran over anything that would come to mind on how to address a god. He was absolutely sure the experience was not part of his usual circumstances. “My…lord?”

“That’ll work. Now that we’ve got the introductions out of the way, I assume you want to know what the fuck this is all about, right?” The god grinned. “I hope you’re ready for a fight, Ashwin, Herald of Namilun. ‘Cause you’re being called to a holy war.”