[Cynthine]
Shrill howls pierced the skies as the sylphid's inner winds whirled at an impossible frequency. Her inhuman fury was without peer; she would certainly see to our demise.
Provided my plan went down in flames, that is.
Gremory threw open his book and rushed through pages of magical procedure.
Lyra stomped immovable feet in front of him, hammer held in stalwart defense.
And Ansel? He was already halfway to our enemy - axes splitting through the increasing wind pressure emitted from the sylphid.
Insect-like wings buzzed with rapid fury. The massive sylphid glided to meet Ansel in a rush of moments - fingerless arms morphing again into crescent blades of solidified wind.
Axe and scythe clashed as a potent airflow blew back my hair. Ansel matched blurred blows with the hovering menace, casting Flit whenever confronted with a close shave, warping to safe angles, confounding his foe. But the sylphid eventually tired of playing cat-and-mouse. Her attention smoothly spun to Lyra and Gremory - likely assuming them less agile targets - and took off for them.
Ansel gave chase - only to be blasted back by a gale released from the sylphid's flapping wings. He tumbled away into a kicked-up cloud of dust.
Mid-flight, the sylphid transformed again: into a massive mallet of wind nearly the size of the carriage. As if wielded by an unseen giant, it rose high above the two and came down like a meteor. Lyra didn't shy away from the challenge. With a stomp and roar she threw her all into her mightiest swing - despite her weapon scarcely matching a tenth of the sylphid's scale.
Her stone slab impacted the center of the colossal green hammer. Hardly an inch shifted between them, locked in a contest to overpower the other.
"Take… your sweet time… Grem!" veins jumped along the brunette's forehead.
"You cannot rush precision," his fingers stopped on a page. "Ah, here it is! Move, Lyra. Now!"
"Trying!" she labored as wind jetted from the back of the sylphid, empowering the sylphid's strike. "…Enough, you living gasbag - you're not stronger than me! Animalistic Beast Power!"
At her intonation, Lyra's… curiously named art bolstered the very muscles that threatened to collapse. Biceps bulged, shoulders swelled, tendons thickened and tightened and arteries surged like streaks of red lightning. A deeper roar - this one thundering louder than the shrieking winds - and Lyra heaved away the sylphid.
Catching itself a ways away, the sylphid toiled to return to its original form, clearly disoriented. Granting Lyra the time to leap aside, and Gremory, a clear line-of-sight.
For a split-moment, the scholar flashed a smug smile.
"Chilling Mist!"
An icy blue mist expelled from the scholar's pursed lips, carrying countless crystals within. The art advanced slowly, but thanks to Lyra's efforts, the sylphid was busy collecting itself. By the time it would've been able to move, it couldn't. Mist devoured it whole.
The winds that constituted its body swirled slower and slower, much like its movements - becoming rigid as a steel rod. Even attempts to transform were stopped cold.
Before long, the mist dissipated. In its place: a statue of the sylphid, frozen mid-transformation into a distorted vortex.
The barbarian sauntered up to it, stroking her smiling cheek. "Another foe, felled by chief Lyra! And as luck would have it, this one's even been cast in ice. A fine trophy! But where to stick it in our ship? Should it be wall-mounted, or-"
Cuts tore through the creature's twisted form. Chunks of cleaved ice came crashing down around Lyra's bulging eyes. "No!"
Ansel's blurred body came to a sudden halt beside her. "Lyra, let us be honest with ourselves: that sylphid would make a shoddy trophy in its current state."
She gestured sorely. "It's current state is ice cubes!"
"Are you two forgetting its size?" Gremory approached them like a somber raven. "It would've been impossible to cram inside the airship."
An inquisitive look came over his eyes. "…It would've made for a much greater figurehead."
I watched them from afar. They… do realize it would melt, don't they?
Burying such thoughts, I ran out onto the trail to greet my three rescuers. "Truly, I can't thank you enough for saving me!" I told Ansel. "…And you two, as well."
"Anytime, sunshine," Lyra cracked a smile that missed three teeth. "Smacking things is the part of the job I like best, but protecting people now and then ain't so bad!"
"Although," interjected Ansel, "I'd say we're quite square. Who knows how we might've managed without your quick-thinking, Miss…"
"…Cynthine," I told him. "Cynthine Valzo."
Gremory closed his book, stowing it somewhere inside his coat. "Cynthine, hm? Well, I admit your plan worked quite well - though I'd have come to the same conclusion in time. Regardless, our work here is complete, and," he knelt, pocketing several shards of frozen wind, "these should suffice as proof for the Guild."
Guild?
Much about these three and their sudden appearance was veiled in mystery. They didn't set out to save me - Ansel was shocked to find me there. So of course, I was inclined to question.
"Ah, right," Gremory responded. "These islands are unaffiliated; of course you wouldn't know of us. We are Wayfarers. Roaming heroes, to some. Recently we've chosen to accept a venture - ah, a task promising substantial remuneration - to hunt down a feral sylphid." He pointed to the chunks of ice before us. "That thing. We've tracked this monster for days, the bloody thing absconding from island to island."
"You set out to face this monster?" I asked. "With days to prepare? And your plan was… to attack it blindly?"
Gremory deflated somewhat. "W-well, in my defense, I felt my Boulder Salvo would've proved more than enough to fell it. It typically does, you see?"
"In case that failed," my baffled gaze swept him up and down, "did you cooperate on a backup plan?"
"Erm… again," he rubbed his temple, as if massaging his bruised intellectual ego, "I deduced that the earthen art would've performed with admirable efficacy by virtue of the sylphid's inherent zephyric qualities."
"Remember," said Lyra, "we did defeat it though, and that's all that matters."
"I had faith in everyone that things would turn out swell," added Ansel, "and I was proven right, was I not?"
These three are not the sharpest, are they…?
Ansel continued. "But on that note, your knack for sussing out the best course of action - under pressure, might I add - is damned impressive. You must've already realized that we Wayfarers are more, how do you say… people of the moment. But having a forward planner with us may prove beneficial. What say you join our merry band?"
"J-join you?" I asked.
Gremory groaned. "Again, Ansel? How many will you ask to join us? This girl had one adequate plan. One. Hardly a lengthy resume."
"And that was only in the five minutes we've known her! Hear me, Grem. I have a special feeling about her."
The scholar folded his arms. "The last time you had a 'special feeling', we ended up in the moist maw of a sky octopus. Or before that, when we were chased out of that town after you stole their pixie."
"Freed their pixie," Ansel raised a correcting finger.
"Irrelevant. This 'Cynthine' likely won't want to join us anyhow. She dwells on this grouping of islands. Let's face it, very few would willingly drop their lives to be Wayf-"
"Take me!" I stole everyone's attention. "…Please!"
Until then, I hardly noticed the cauldron of emotion bubbling inside me. The entrance of the sylphid and the Wayfarers were only a temporary distraction to the fact that I stood quite literally on a life-changing crossroads. I knew what lay at the end of both paths. The Curator's palace awaited at the island's heart. Once I stepped inside, I would never leave. Yet at the other end was the island's edge. An endless plummet into the Abyss. In some ways, a preferable fate.
A miracle presented itself, however, in a third opportunity. Why walk the paths laid out for me… when I could take to the skies?
I explained to them Gremory's grave misconception. Their eyes widened in shock. Then narrowed in outrage.
Ansel grew a rare, dark scowl. "They took you away from your family? Shipped you away like property to be used? And there are others?"
Lyra wrapped tightened knuckles around the shaft of her hammer. "Wretched curs… We should crush this 'Curator' like a grape!"
"I agree…" the scholar hid a shaking fist inside his coat. "Even so far out on the Frontier, I never expected such open barbarity."
Their anger resonated with mine. No more did I cry. Tears had dried and paved the way for an inner fire.
Ansel struck one axe against the other. "Then our next move is evident: we free everyone. Tear this 'palace' to the ground. Let's head for the airship and sail into their front gates!"
"Aye-aye!" agreed the barbarian.
Gremory extended a hand. "Wait!"
"If you're going to warn me of the dangers…" Ansel glared.
"Of course not," the scholar replied. "To the Abyss with peril - innocents are pressed under the foot of tyranny. However," he turned to me, "I'm unsure if Cynthine should join us."
"What?" Ansel stopped. "Why?"
Lyra hesitated. "Grem might have a point, for once. Kittens have spilt more blood than her," she stated with one look at my face. "Girl might slow us down. Or worse."
"Precisely," Gremory noted. "I'm all for flying her off this glorified prison, but we should tend to that first, then return for the others. We can vet the idea of her joining us afterwards."
I considered the prospect. At once, I could so easily be whisked far off the island, never to return, free to forget everything that transpired. However much of me was saddened to leave my home behind, a much greater part rejoiced at liberation. Normally, I would not hesitate to accept it.
And yet that resentment I felt - that righteous anger - refused to leave me.
The Curator snatched me away from my life. He did the same to others - young men and women plucked from the surrounding islands like ripened fruit to be tasted. No one deserved to have their youth stolen from them, their autonomy revoked. Perhaps in some small way I could help them. Guide this pack of kind souls into saving them, even.
The notion found a home in my mind. Much more snugly than I could've ever anticipated.
"Lass!" a voice drew our group's attention. "See you're still breathing. Good."
Limping out of the carriage's door was the woman from before, stopping at the bundled wreckage at the front of the carriage. She gazed upon the brutal scene and cursed.
"Bloody moron…" not an ounce of pity hung in her eyes. "I'm never bein' somebody's passenger again."
In hindsight, she seemed to attribute our crash to driver incompetence, thanks to her blinding rage earlier. She dropped onto the path, wincing off her pain. An eyebrow cocked as she realized I was no longer alone. "Huh? Who're you freaks?"
"Freaks?" Lyra's eyes darted conspiratorially to Gremory's. Neither gave much care to subtlety as they reached for their weapons.
As did Ansel. "Friends of Cynthine."
I should've been convinced of their sincerity. But his proclamation still sent prickles along my skin.
The woman's frown sobered. She quickly glanced at her waist, only to find her crossbow dangling from mine. "I… I see a lot happened while I was out," she raised conceding hands. "But thing're no different than they were. That lass still belongs to the Curator."
"Belongs?" Ansel's eyes sharpened.
A second lease on haughtiness entered her eyes. "You three… I've been told about a group that remind me of you: Wayfarers."
Lyra nodded. "That's us. Scared?"
Her shoulders dropped; a smirk crept across her face. "Not no more. Word is, your sort ain't 'posed to meddle with people like us, floating all to ourselves. Curator's the highest power on these here islands. By the law of the land, anyone he picks out is his property. So scurry off and-"
She tensed. Why, of course she did.
I aimed dead at her.
"Wh-what are you up to, lass?" her arms hung halfway between surrender and aggression.
The crossbow bolt clicked into place as I walked past the others. "I'm not a Wayfarer."
Apprehension flashed over her eye-patched face. Before gears turned, and she slipped into a fit of laughter. "Puff yerself up if you like - make yerself seem big. Don't change the fact that I know you ain't pullin' that trigger."
I stopped between her and the Wayfarers. All eyes clung to my fingers. No one made a move.
Except the woman.
"Remember how we found you?" she approached, one slow step at a time. "Meek. Quiet. Walked into our carriage wiv' nary a protest. Sat in the back like a babe and cried and couldn't even look me in the eye."
A bead of sweat traveled down my cheek.
The woman came near, hand motioning for me to return her crossbow. "What's so different now, lass?"
"Now? I can shoot you."
My bolt ripped into her chest and tore her mask of a smile right off.
Feet rushed to catch her as she jerked back; hands flew to the fresh wound, unable to comprehend the foreign object sticking out of her. Eyes lost focus. And her cheek crashed down into the dirt path.
Deep breaths spilled from my lips. My stilled heart released every pent-up beat at once. But I couldn't dwell on what I had to do, for she was merely a finger on a much larger monster.
As I turned to the others, Lyra spoke to me. "C-Cynthine? Are you all right?"
"I'm well enough…" I regarded my new weapon. "Was she correct? You Wayfarers, can you not interfere with the affairs of certain islands?"
Gremory removed a thumb from his book - like the rest, clearly prepared to intervene had matters gone awry. "We were told that if we did so again," he looked aside, "we would be ejected from the Guild."
But if they can't act, that means everyone within the Curator's clutches will forever be…
"But to the Abyss with that, I say!" Ansel declared. "If they take umbrage with the saving of innocent folk, then their words carry less weight than breath itself!"
"Besides," added Lyra, "breaking rules is what we do! They'll understand."
Gremory tipped his hat. "And if not… well, I waived my opportunity for riches and recognition the day I hitched onto Ansel's airship."
The barest trace of a smile lifted my woes. "Then, we're stopping the Curator?"
"Undoubtedly!" Ansel nodded. "With that crossbow in-hand, you might need less protection that we thought. I shall bring you to our ship. And if you devise any strategies on the way, do tell."
"Preferably one wiser than crashing into their gates," said Gremory.
"Unless you wanna?" asked Lyra. "If so, I'm driving!"
"You three…" what remained of my weight fluttered away with an exhale. Gratitude could wait, however. Now was the time for action. "As it happens, I believe I've identified just the way to perform our siege. First, we should…"
I detailed the rest of my plan as we left behind that terrible scene. The sylphid might've been defeated, but with every step, I felt a greater wind at my back. It blew away the fear, blew away the despair. The airs of freedom, blown by the miraculous Wayfarers.
Yet… the winds of freedom weren't for my wings alone.
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"And after that? What came next?" Oliver balanced on the brink of salivating, having shifted in the grass innumerable times.
"Precisely what was laid out," I crossed legs on the bench. "We stormed the palace, battered the Curator's soldiers, freed his concubines… and as for the man himself? We didn't do a thing. We simply allowed those he subjected to his whims to do with him as they pleased."
"Wow… you guys really did a good turn to all those poor folks! Cynthine, you're awesome."
I smiled. "You're sweet as a plum, dear. But I'm undeserving of such praise. I was simply young, then. And I had help."
"That doesn't make you not-awesome! Though, I know I keep asking, but what happened next? You're here, so that means you left your home. Didn't you… miss it?"
Melancholy clung to his words. As if the question had been asked many times, but was only now spoken aloud.
"Yes, I did. Perhaps a forgotten fragment of me still does. But I'd housed ideas of escape for far longer than my stay in that carriage. The Curator wasn't the only cruel authority in my life. Ansel, Lyra, Gremory, and the rest of the good people I met during my voyage as a Wayfarer - those are what I truly miss."
"So don't look so sad." I leaned closer. "I believe leaving Sienna Village was the right choice for you as well."
"H-how'd you know that's what I was thinking?"
"Experience. But enough about myself - this tale was intended for your sake. I've told you of your grandfather's path: that of a Wayfarer. A charter of new lands. A hunter of lost treasures. And perhaps greatest of all, a freer of the shackled."
I continued. "You wished to know of his past. Now that you have it, how will that knowledge chart your future?"
He regarded his lap, and the blades of grass within. I'd never seen someone so excitable spend so long in silent contemplation.
But his answer came in time.
"…Giving folks who need it a helping hand, while seeing however much of the world I want? Choosing my work, instead of having it forced on me? Being a hero? While having fun?" He whistled. "Gosh, I… I can't imagine nothing better."
"I think…" he found his way into a beaming smile, "I want to be a Wayfarer…"
Great elation overcame me. Not so secretly, I hoped for this result ever since he visited my home. He always had the choice, of course. But for a free soul like him? I couldn't dream of a better fit.
"That's wonderful, Oliver! You'd prove a great-"
"-and I want you to join me."
"What!?" my shriek drew the attention of the nearby parkgoers. I cleared my throat, and elected to lower my voice. "Dear… I'm sorry, but that's impossible."
He rose and cocked his head. "Why? You did join the Wayfarers, right Miss Cynthine?"
"After we left the island, yes."
"Did you ever quit?"
"Well, no…" I toiled to calm my runaway heartbeat. "I haven't done work for them in many years, but I never had the heart to formally retire."
A gap flashed between his wide smile. "So that means you can just start again like nothing ever happened!"
Oliver…
I rose from the bench and beckoned him to follow me to the railing overseeing the edge of Belza Hill - further from the others in the park.
Once we got there, Oliver's smile threatened to fall into the Middle Layer below us. "…You're going to say you can't… aren't you?"
"…Dear, forget about the Guild and look to me," I whispered. "This form of mine, I realize it appears youthful. But I turned seventy this year. Seventy. Much too old to go gallivanting about the country. Such things should be left to the spry and hearty."
"But that's the thing," he lowered his voice too. "A permanent illusion is incredible magic. And I reckon you know a lot of other arts too - journeying with grandpa and them."
"Magic talent may remain, but not my body - is the point. My best years have long passed me." I gripped the railing with whitening knuckles. "My ears ring; my back aches. Even now, I feel the years sap away my vigor."
Oliver placed a hand beside mine. Lithe and lean and brimming with energy. "Say you're old, and weak, and live like that's a fact, and you'll make it real, I think. But then there's grandpa. He was older than you. And also the strongest person I ever met."
I agree. Much stronger than myself…
He could tell I wasn't convinced. His gaze turned ahead, taking in the vast plains surrounding Belza Hill. In his eyes was one simple desire.
To see.
"Miss Cynthine?" he finally asked, "how long have you lived here?
"In Lumerit? Ever since Ansel settled down here fourteen years ago. We… settled down together - in different places of course."
"Fourteen? So that's when grandpa came here. But I didn't mean Lumerit." He pointed downwards. I meant Belza Hill."
I hesitated. "…Fourteen years."
"That's… a long time, Miss Cynthine. Haven't you ever wanted to leave? Explore the world like you used to? Grandpa had me and Amara to take care of, but you…"
Responding was not easy. I underestimated the adolescent. Mistook his naivety for simple-mindedness. Much like how many thought of Ansel himself. And like his grandfather, he had a certain skill at cutting to the heart of matters. It would've been simple work to lie - I did so to myself for many years. Yet lying to him was different. Unthinkable.
"As much as I saw in my youth, it was only a small fraction of the vastness of this world. I never stopped wanting to learn. See. Be free, and spread that freeness to others. Instead of being shackled to one location."
"Then what made you stay here so long?"
"…Love. A great, lifelong love for Ansel. He loved me too… in the same way he loved all his friends. But I was content to remain comrades. Even as my budding fondness bloomed into deep infatuation."
I winced, a great shame finding itself at my lips. "It's pathetic. Truly. Yet secretly I wished he'd wake one day and suddenly realize his heart raced for me. I held out hope. For years and years and years. When out of the blue he was compelled to settle down in Lumerit - in Sienna Village - I followed, living in the closest town there was to his."
"Every day." My eyes began to wet. "Every day I hoped he might appear at my doorstep, saying he finally wanted to build a life together. Have a love that lived long beyond our final days."
I wiped them, and exhaled. "Then he passed."
Oliver met my gaze, far more misty-eyed than myself. "I'm… I'm sorry he never felt the same, Miss Cynthine."
"Dear…" I gave him a deep look. "You don't have to weep."
"But your wish, it never came true."
The past fourteen years flashed before my eyes. What had I gained since settling here? A stationary bed? A passion I could not express? A lonely existence? What could I have had in the time between then and now if I had adopted independence? Flown under the sails of an airship like I once cherished? Precious experiences, surely. All lost.
Yet… was it truly too late?
"Perhaps… that wish was better off ungranted." My hand tightened next to his. "Perhaps in a way, I imprisoned myself. But I must face the truth of things: will I truly languish here in a prison of my own making, until the day I perish?"
My eyes soared to the neverending sky. "That is not the end I desire."
"M-miss Cynthine?" the adolescent's tears dried up, "a-are you saying…?"
I nodded to the horizon. "I made a catastrophic mistake, fourteen years ago. That changes today. Dear, I may slow you down. But you will not be alone as a Wayfarer. These old bones have life in them yet!"
"Really!?" he nearly shot over the rails. "That's fantastic!"
Oliver mastered himself as best he could. "So, Miss Cynthine, or should I say 'boss', what do I have to do to join?"
I laughed. "Wayfarers don't have superiors. What they do have are Guild Lodges, sprinkled all across the continent - excepting a select few realms. Such as Lumerit."
"There isn't one anywhere in our country? Why?"
"A great deal of messy politics. I'll explain another time."
"Darn," he scratched his shaved temple. "Then, the only thing we can do is travel to another country, right? Visit a Lodge there?"
"Indeed. Though that's curious; here I was thought you liked traveling."
"I do, I do! I'm just surprised this is all happening. Following in grandpa's footsteps - the excitement is killing me! When do we leave?"
I stroked my chin. "We depart town today, of course."
"Yeah!" he cheered.
"But becoming Wayfarers will have to wait."
His cheers faded into the breeze. "Wait, what do you mean? What's the difference?"
"Between run-of-the-mill travelers and Wayfarers? Not a great deal, outside of the badge. Yet once we join - or in my case rejoin - the Guild, that's that. We become official. I'd like to sharpen our talents before then."
I took the measure of him. "You hold great promise, and your survival skills likely rival most Guild members. But you are still young and unhoned. Not merely in terms of combat, but in terms of an education of the world."
My gaze turned inward. "Not to mention I must get back into shape as well, regain however much of my old powers as I can gather. Thus, this is my plan: we travel Lumerit's borders - leaving aside its more dangerous corners. And on the road we improve together. Fortunately," I smiled, "we both favor the element of wind. That seems a keen starting point."
Oliver peered back at his bow, and the goofy toy handle hanging from his pocket. "I don't know if I could work at getting better as intensely as Amara does, but if the world is really as dangerous as everyone says, I need to have more than Windseeker in my quiver."
A resolute look entered his eyes. "So if you're going to teach me - then I promise I'll learn everything!"
Ansel… you truly raised quite the grandson.
"Very well, then," I smiled, tearing away from the railing. "No time like the present, as they say. There's a world out there for us inquisitive thrill-seekers. Let's not leave it unscoured."
"Right!" said my new traveling companion. "Oh, I can't wait! On the way, can you tell me more stories?"
"Hm. I could, but then the surprise will be sullied when you encounter those places yourself. As well, wouldn't you like to author your own?"
"Author my own?" he pondered.
As we made for Belza Hill's grand steps, I felt a sensation I hadn't entertained in many years: fear of the unknown. Soon I'd say goodbye to my home of the last fourteen years. What all had changed? How had I? And what could lurk in the darkest recesses in the world? The feeling was not quick to leave me.
But alongside it floated a second sensation. One I hadn't felt for even longer:
Liberation.
Yet that wasn't all. A final, critical question popped into my mind.
…What am I going to do with my cats?
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For this Interlude's nonstandard post-chapter, I thought I'd do answer another random question nobody asked: if all the main characters happened to be Wildfolk, which animal would they embody?
Skell: Axolotlfolk
Amara: Rhinofolk
Cynthine: Catfolk
Oliver: Foxfolk
Hyland: Leopardfolk
Niles: Lemurfolk
Soleil: Hyenafolk
Yamui: Crowfolk
Ansel: Raccoonfolk
Ra'Kol: …What do you think?