Year 765 The Storm Crawler Charge

 “Wait, explain what you just did?” Connor heard of sorcery to this magnitude, but it could never be replicated. The mages of this time are nowhere near this level of ability. It is like he just came back in time. These buildings of mana long lost in history books is now the very childhood residence of his wife. Truly, Erathea could be upside down and he would believe that more than this. Yet here he is camping in the very place.

Rhea caught on his gaping and lets out this nervous giggle while willing her fire away. “My papa had made mana glyphs on some of these walls. It fuels the stone to shape in any way you want if you are capable enough. I actually do not know how he made it work the way it does.”

No one does but her father apparently. I wish he were here to answer my many questions. Regardless of his grievance towards his deceased in-law, he got closer to inspect the glyph she points at. It no longer glowed and looks very insignificant like earlier. But now each line has a purpose, and it forms this intricate design of a funnel. Whenever Rhea exchanges her mana, it must follow these weird lines till it fuels this strange rock. This rock is no ordinary rock. It the notes his master wrote down, he called this kind of rock, “Magerock.”

“Magerock?” Rhea heard Connor’s enchanted whispering and when he looks her way confusion raises her brow.

“It’s this whole place, a stone that no one can replicate or find but mages are needed to make it.” Connor explanation had her furrow her brows now as if the information still doesn’t make sense to her. It doesn’t to him either, “It’s a special combination of different rocks and mana. If your father made this place, he would’ve had the knowledge of very ancient forms of alchemy and mana.”

“…my papa…” Rhea fell silent again, then shook her head to show her frustration. “He never told me.”

Connor can sense this is another one of the sensitive revelations. He opens his mouth to console her, but she wouldn’t let him. She turns to go back to her parents’ room. Connor could only follow her; she stood before the painting again her silver eyes glued on the hunting horn. He took advantage of her momentarily distraction and found his sword then his rifle. He would’ve loved these when they faced off those seers.

“My papa…” Rhea’s voice picks at his attention and he turns her way, she is staring at the painting with this growing frown. “Claimed he was a scholar. He taught me all the languages I know now, the very glittery Trail in the skies, and many stories. He always had a story to tell.”

What other languages? Connor didn’t ask, she is still talking while taking the hunting horn and looking over the symbols.

“I always thought his stories came from his active imagination or something. They were so strange, it was too hard to believe there could be more to him than just some silly scholar who decided to make a home out of the Junxe Jungle. Already that sounds crazy.” Rhea traces the symbols on the horn; he understands her pause is to regain her composure base on how she fought down the pursing of her lips. “The thing is that my papa was supposed to tell me the whole truth on the day Braska ambushed us. He took away more than just my family that day. I thought I would always want revenge because of what he did but…something else changed my mind. Before the orphanage, I have done things that I am not proud of out of what I thought was justice.”

Her eyes focus in on Connor, and in them he thought he saw the flames she keeps away. She didn’t look ready to explain this; he is about to tell her she could wait another day. Rhea didn’t let him.

“I have killed slavers and owners of slaves alike. I was always in the hunt for them, eventually I just thought it as normal as drinking water, but my kills never stopped the practice. And more people got hurt from it than saved. It took a very long time to accept it. I did and I found the orphanage eventually. Then you and the crew. I changed and I can finally hope for the better.” Rhea grins, taking a knife from her hip and carving something on the hunting horn. She crosses out a symbol of a creature that looks similar to the Rheno. Then adds a stylized head of a hippogryph. “This belonged to my grandfather and many chieftains before him. Braska failed to protect it. My mama would have wanted me to protect it. And I will regardless of what my parents hid from me.”

This sudden wisdom from Rhea it ignites something in him not so different than the times he fawns over his master. She displays this radiance unbothered by the world around it, it is the complete opposite to him. The darkness in him creeps in even with the radiance, reminding him why he must go after the Trail Artifacts. Nothing will stop this darkness in him from growing, not even Rhea. Connor did his best not to show his own inner turmoil by going back to the subject. “About the horn…”

Connor prying didn’t bother her and answering his curiosity quickly.

“It is a sacred horn passed down chieftain to chieftain.” Rhea traces the etching of the horn, focusing on one name. “The names are all chieftains. Xiapu was my grandfather. He was the chieftain that dons the Starpecco. My mother used to say he was fiercely protective of his daughters like a Starpecco…. till Braska got involved and had made Xiapu give up his mantle for bearing a daughter marked to produce ‘heretics’ and the other that chose my papa. Apparently, he died of a broken heart because he lost both of his daughters so quickly. At least that is what was told to my mama then to me.”

“Doesn’t that make you next in line?” Connor asks this not understanding the dynamics of the

Kraxxian clan. Adenaya rarely spoke about the clan for the simple excuse that she was too heartbroken to.

She shook her head fast, the panic truly clear in her features. “No, no. Krax do not follow lineage. Royalty is more like decided by the clan then the chieftain must take on their bond animal. They wear the animal skins, bones, feathers for as long as the chieftain lives.”

“Hm. Bond animal?” Another thing Adenaya did not educate him on. It seems she really had some similarities to Rhea when it comes to secrets.

Through a sigh she answers thankfully not as privy as her relatives. The Kraxxian culture isn’t a common topic for anyone. His master did not even know about them. “It is the first animal skins that a Krax baby is wrapped in once they are born. My grandfather was a starpecco, my mama’s was a tigrou. Adenaya was keldio. And my bond animal is a stormcrawler.”

“Stormcrawler…huh?” Weren’t those creatures she warned us about? We didn’t even see one. Connor didn’t want to upset her with her rationale by his usual teasing. She has been extremely sensitive lately. Like now as she squints at him.

“The big hulking monster that hunts only during monsoons or heavy rain. THAT thing is one of the reasons why I will never try becoming a chieftain.” Rhea laughs stepping out of the room. Connor watches her back as she vanishes behind the curtain. He is left in the room with Rhea’s parents painting. He studies her father’s painted smile with a furrow of his brow. It was like the spirit of her father judges him as he stands there. It compels him to speak, “I’m sorry. As I am now, I can’t be the right man for her happiness….”

As expected, there are no answers. He that way because there is no way her father would approve him. Especially the blood that courses through veins and what it meant. Connor leaves the room without so much a wave to the painting.