Year 765 The Storm Crawler Charge

“I agree. I…” She fiddles with the Flarishk emblem, still staring at the blackened mass. “I have not walk in my sleep in so long, I thought it would never happen again.”

Damn it. She’s a sleepwalker. There have been an odd number of occurrences when he had to intervene someone sleepwalking off the ship. Those individuals never got to stay with the crew for obvious safety reasons. Now his wife is one of those people. This brings on more considerations in her safety but right now he had to understand why she claims it hasn’t happened in a long time. “When was the last time?”

“…Exactly four moons or your four years. It happened right after my parents died but I do not think I can properly explain it to you right now. I have not accepted portions of these memories. And Braska’s claims are crazy yet- “She inspects her very fingers on her hands with a sad sniffle of her nose. “I did the craziest of things. I controlled the lava.”

Connor waits for her to finish, his initial outrage sizzling away. Her cheeks are still stained with tears, and the white of her eyes are red and puffy. She had been crying for some time. With all his will power it still isn’t enough, and it is obvious by the fact he knelt beside her. The wet grass crunching beneath him gave Rhea a sign that had her continue her explanation.

“I do not know what I am. I am not sure if I should know.” She touches the shiny mass; there is this look of yearning coloring her features. “Nor do I know why this is here. It was not here before yet something about it is giving me this feeling that I need to know.”

“What is it then?” Connor asks and it only makes his wife wince again who is usually the resilient type. A single tear streaks down her face, and she hurriedly wipes it away.

“It is similar stone to my old home. But I cannot say what it is, my papa made that home before I was born or so they claimed.” She retracts her palm from the blackened surface, facing Connor now. “I am sorry. I never wanted to leave your side. But I do not blame you if you do not believe me.”

The fact that she recognizes his concerns right now means she knew how bad this looks. After all she is extremely reckless, she got her ribs broken and even the clothes on her were burnt on the left side. Not to mention that she has done a plethora reckless things in the past. Usually, he would punish people who are constantly going against his commands. He has punished Rhea before but that was before they established this romantic relationship. The sad expression on her, the redden puffy eyes and the way she still manages to face him when most people shrivel away to avoid being reprimanded. He is very conflicted, enough that he can’t even think of the best route to take this conversation. What’s the point in going through years of battle tactics and you can’t even concur the best action here?

Connor lets out a grumble beneath his breath, deciding in that moment he will fixate on his wife’s feelings. She needs him whether it was her fault or not. After all, even he is overwhelmed by these revelations. Another thought comes to his mind, what am I going to do if she sleepwalks on the ship? Anyone with that condition is a risk to themselves, he does have them stay at the Isles for their safety. It would make the most logical sense to leave Rhea in the Isles too as much as he couldn’t fathom separating.

Focus on Rhea right now.

“I believe you.” Connor couldn’t see the other likelihood being the reality. Rhea wouldn’t outright lie to him. Maybe not relay everything but she isn’t doing that out of malice, he’s hidden and lied to her more times that he should be the one punished. Besides, he saw her control the lava. He saw her glow; he saw her become this creature of lava before. It made more sense to believe in her.

Her bottom lip quivers, and she rubs away more tears. I still caused her to cry.

Connor pulls her into this embrace that made sense to him, she presses her forehead his chest the best she could with his satchel in the way. Her tears soak a spot on his shirt, making it stick to him. Originally, he thought he wouldn’t be visibly awkward by the attempt to console but this time he is here again spiraling. He’s always responded with aggression when someone dares to mess with his crew. This takes a lot of effort, because the reason for her tears did not have a tangible form that he could physically pommel to death. He just had to hope that the next thing he does will help, he pets her back. While they embrace like this, he vigilently scans their area for anyone that might intrude. This person will be dealt with a very angry Captain of the Nightmare Maiden. No such thing happened, only Rhea’s sobs grew silent. She didn’t yet raise her head from his chest; this is when he found a voice.

“This does not have to be the time to explain everything. I can still wait.” 

There is one fact, he couldn’t bear seeing her this broken. He can control his damn impatient curiosity for much longer. In a place they can find comfort in each other without the threat of the jungle looming over them.

Rhea sinks even further into this one-armed embrace; his other hand carries his pistol. He wants to give her more than this, but he senses they are not truly alone. He doesn’t trust the shadows in the trees, he even glares towards it trusting his instincts. It is probably those seers, at least he hopes it is. He rather them than the yellow madness or that arcane mage.

She finally regains her composure, and he had to warn her. “I think they never left.”

“No. I am a threat to their chieftain.” She pushes away from him with a regrettable sigh. It’s weird to see her not storming after their stalkers but she only looks more exhausted by the mere mention of that chieftain. “We best leave.”

She rolls onto her heels not even looking back to the mass behind her. Still his wife waits for him, rubbing away the stains on her cheeks. Connor stood up, he didn’t like to be watched but Rhea knows more about her own peoples’ behavior than he could ever in the period Adenaya raised him. Adenaya...

“Your aunt, she told me she had a mage child with the chieftain.”

Rhea walks on ahead, but he could see that is an extremely sensitive topic by the tightening of her fists. “Yes…that was Braska.”

Rhea didn’t add more with the statement and Connor is thinking against asking more questions. He kept speculating about it especially when Adenaya made it clear the very same chieftain killed their mage child. Man like that is no man.

Connor and Rhea traverse through this foliage, it felt like it took her no time to find her old home when earlier he was in search for her. Perhaps in his panic he perceived everything to take too long. It didn’t matter as much to him now that he has her by his side. Rhea didn’t slow to get to her old home; she is adamant to keep her silence only to glance his way to make sure he is near. The reach the ladder in less time than he could think of the reasons for her secrecy. She went up the rope ladder first; Connor went up it with a tentative pace. This damn rope doesn’t look that secure and he’s doubled his wife size. He didn’t think of this when he thought something bad happened to Rhea, so his pause is not too warranted. The rope isn’t of material he could make out by glance alone. He would trust it again, hoping this will be last time he climbs it or he’s going to push safer alternatives.

He enters the darkness; Rhea summons on ball of flame in her hand to help light their surroundings. It is as cramped as he first entered this place, the fire pit just to his left and the cloth doorway to the bedroom in-front of him. He could’ve easily stepped on the fireplace. Rhea moves towards the wall, tracing her fingertips to the grooves on the wall.

Curious, Connor stood near her and squints at where she kept touching with her fingertips. It looks to be some strange sigil, he remembers seeing more of these at certain points of this cramped abode. He couldn’t tell what they were, just a bunch of lines forming this intricate circle. He just assumed Rhea’s parents were artistic in nature.

He is ready to ask if Rhea didn’t already mutter. “Please do not blow up.”

“What?”  Connor wouldn’t need her answer yet. She presses her palm against the circle, and he thought he saw her hand starting to glow. The lines absorb her glowing spreading on the wall in a complicated yet intricate web of glowing lines. The wall shudder and shift, the whole wall is glowing the shade of lava. Like putty, the wall opens at the center and molds a window. The light of the outside lit the whole abode. Connor could see the tree lines again.

Once the window reaches a certain size, Rhea retracts her hand from the the wall. Just like that the wall returns to this glossy black then harden, as if none of this magic even occurred.

What kind of man was Rhea’s father?