Wyvern Tails and Phoenix Feathers

The Unspeakable Words, Chapter 1 - Eloise

Of all the discomfort Eloise Glass experienced since relocating to the Isle of Einalia, slogging on foot through swampland for days ranked among the worst. When she departed the Hearh with The Archmage and his apprentice, they traveled northeast through picturesque woodlands. Feathery spores fell soft onto fluffy moss-covered logs and beds of emerald fern. Yet all too quickly, the fantastic scenery made way for persistent flies and the stench of decay. Pooling muck stuck to her boots and threatened to pull them off her feet when she sunk too deep.

Camping at night was miserable. The swamp was home to insects with loud mating calls that seemed to want nothing more than to crawl all over a slumbering traveler's face. Eloise lamented Princess Annette's possession of the snail shell. With it, she and her companions could have traveled in shifts. She could have at least rested peacefully in a nice bed, even if it were very same that she nearly died in days prior.

"It is important for Annette to have a space in which to hone her abilities in private," Cirrus told her.

"As an Archmage, can you not conjure a second snail shell?" Eloise replied. She was only half-joking. She had witnessed innovation and resourcefulness in Oran's magic; she expected great things out of his teacher as well.

Cirrus finished sipping a cup of black tea and shook his head.

"The shell has been passed down to archmages for generations. Its magic is complicated. Any specifications about its creation have been lost."

"Could you perhaps, then, summon horses to speed our travel?" She pried. "I seem to recall you having a covenant with nature."

"I broke that covenant when I brought Bryn into this world," Cirrus muttered. And that was the end of it.

Cirrus was relatively humorless, Eloise observed. While she already disliked him on account of his treatment of Oran, objectively she found him tiresome. He seemed committed to maintaining a practiced persona of imperious stoicism. She found young Bryn Golsane, conversely, to be good company and an easy laugher. It was a curious dichotomy to witness in two identical men at different stages of their lives.

Their slow, but steady journey was leading them to the border town of Piara's Den in Ravenshade. In Piara's Den, Cirrus explained, they would retrieve "Documents of Declared Neutrality" for entering the free city of Three Stones. For citizens of Wyvern Rock, Ravenshade, and Iron Fen, such documents were difficult to obtain. They would need to be forged.

Entering the city of Three Stones was paramount to recovering one of the ingredients necessary for Oran Highwater's resurrection. It was the one Eloise found to be the least tangible, but Cirrus insisted upon executing the most difficult task first.

Back in the Hearh, Cirrus and the wyrd women had enumerated all five ingredients as Eloise listened, numb and angry, staring at the corpse of her fallen friend.

"This phoenix feather, as I mentioned, is spark," said Miranna. "In the ritual of resurrection, it is to be used as a quill."

"A quill requires ink," said Vulka. "Black as night, shimmering and ancient, from the glands of the great kraken who dwells deeper than man can swim. It is movement."

There were many creatures that Eloise was confident her axes could slay; a giant sea monster was not one of them. Before she could begin to think of how she might hunt one, Ponodurga interjected with the next item on the list.

"Ink must sit in a bowl. The bowl is made of clay, sturdy and alive, from the heart of a golem. It is body."

Eloise sighed. All too soon, there was a second monster to kill.