As she prayed fervently for some time, Aster could feel her invocation begin to lull him into memory. He fought to stay grounded, but eventually the rhythm of her words bewitched him to revisit the darkest day in the history of their people, his thoughts lifting him away.

Ever since the treaty of the First Ionian War, the surrounding countries of the continent of Xedria had decreed it forbidden to cross into the Elder Lands. Too much blood had been shed throughout the various armies that had attempted to make their way into the territory to reach their enemies on the other side. In both the sky and the earth.

The ancestral land had the unfortunate disadvantage of being in the direct path to the surrounding warring countries. Its only strength lay in its beasts of unknown origin dwelling throughout it, threatening the lives of whoever crossed their path. But if the beasts didn’t claim the lives of foolish men first, then it would be the multitudes of strange and poisonous fauna.

The further anyone traveled into the forest, the more certain death became. It contained an other-worldliness that few ever attempted to delve into. Countless stories throughout the outer kingdoms spoke of failed expeditions to make the treacherous journey. It seemed that none but the Eäldorman, who had decades of experience and knowledge of the forest and its mysteries, could live within it safely. Leaving the land untouched by the major powers for a century.

At least until the disaster 14 years ago. 

Aster had been on night patrol, keeping his ears and eyes sharp for any unwanted creatures from the forest. The last thing they ever expected was an Ephesian ship to descend from the sky. Most Ephesian ships were rather noisy, their mechanical roars echoing through the air as their exhausts let off steam.

But roaring was not unusual in Xe’Hadena. He had heard the ships roar but thought nothing of it. What eventually alerted him to the danger was the sound the air made as something gargantuan succumbed to gravity, a sound like someone gasping for air, pulling the winds every which way. As Aster watched the ship break through the clouds with fire in its hull, he knew that there was little left to be done. He raced wordlessly to the edge of the city as the ship slowly sunk to the surface, then watched as the explosion of collision consumed the landscape, torching everything in its path.  

The intensity of the heat had singed all the follicles on his face. His eyes struggled to stay open as the ash and heat grew. He had been blown back a few feet with the impact and knocked out for a few seconds. When he came to, fire littered the landscape. His lungs fought for breath as he struggled to help pull fleeing people from the flames, all the while afraid that the worst was still yet to come. To Aster’s horror, his fears were confirmed as the tendrils of fire began to change color and spread at an alarming rate.

The trees outside the crash radius were now being engulfed in flame, along with the Kadu and the other native beasts, the twisted forms of the animals writhing on the floor as the flesh crusted around their bones. He remembered someone throwing a bucket of water on their beloved steed, only for them to scream in horror as the flames grew stronger, its iridescent arms enveloping anyone who came too close.

There was a name for it- Bleakfire.

Once it began, it would not stop until mixed with a negating oil, but the massive scale of destruction made it impossible to save the city. It was all Aster could do to grab as many survivors as he could and flee the flames. Their only saving grace was the Mede River running through the northern outskirts of the city, barley wide enough to keep in all the carnage.

Nayura continued to pray fervently for some time, at times slipping in the names of those they had lost.

“Ivar, Sinta, Lyko, Heiron.” Servants from the old guard.

“Obelo, Neomena, Helios.” The Elders who had chastised them as children.

“Io – Iolanthe.” He heard her breath catch.

Iolanthe had been her cousin. A willowy girl, named after the flower that once grew in multitudes throughout the city. Her smile had been as soft as their petals.

She paused momentarily, as if readying herself for another string of names. But what came next was a shock to Aster.

“Aurelianus,” she whispered.

Aster’s eyes snapped open; his awareness now fully returned. Of all the names Nayura had lamented over the years, this was the one name she had refrained from uttering. Aster had heard the old king’s given name used only twice before. Once by his father, and once when the surviving elders had erected an ancestral monument to honor their fallen lord. Even then, his master refused to acknowledge the monarch, seeming desperate to leave him in the past. But now she was pleading, begging for wisdom from a man she and many others had detested while he still lived.

Aster watched Nayura bring her forehead to the dirt. She stayed curled for a while, the robes around her folded like a cocoon around a dazzlefly. Then, finally, he heard one last desperate supplication.

“Please -Help me.”

As the words slipped out, Aster waited with bated breath for the next action from his master. Everything she had done up till now was straying further and further away from the person he knew her to be. She had set out on her pilgrimage much earlier than in previous years, and it was clear to him by now that she was hiding something more than just memories within the storm clouds. This year must have been harder on her than others past. As if to confirm his suspicion, Nayura drew a sharp breath, opened her mouth, and began to sing.

The first notes almost caused Aster to break his composure entirely. How long had it been since he had last heard her sing? Not since they were children. To Asters knowledge, she had not uttered a single note in adulthood.

Until now.

“Blood of my blood, the song of soul, sing for those that sing no more. What once was, what will be, is what my heart desires to see. Heavens, lift the veil from my sight! My journey will be through countless nights. Shadows and darkness may hide me, but light will surely guide me. Look to the moon and the stars, see the creation from within the dark. Walk in the red of the rye, and you will see it in your enemy’s eyes. Be not afraid of what is to come, lay your life down for the days not yet done. Blood of my blood, the song of my soul, show what you will show no more.”

It was a threnody from an era long past, in a language now lost to calamity, sung only to the dead. A song that would have caused the elders to turn over in their graves- if there was anything left of their bones. A song that brought tears to Aster’s eyes and opened his heart to fear.

The melody brought back memories from the first time he heard her sing. There had been a certain huskiness to her voice yet surprising range from someone who always kept themselves restrained. She would always choose the songs of the ancestors, ancient words so rarely sung due to the rumors that spoke of being corrupted by the wrath of vengeful spirits whenever they were sung.

“Blood of my blood, the song of my soul, go where I can go no more.”