One war. Two Sisters. One end.
There is no running from it. Fate shall have its way as both daughters of Stormband take to the field of battle. Each with one goal - vengeance.
Approximately 130k words.
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Those who pretend to care, but do so only out of a desire to maintain their power, are the true villains of every story.
Lars Hedric, Priest of Earoni
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"And here I thought we were at the end of the journey." Having lost count of the steps already descended a while ago, Sheala bemoaned the continuing downward spiral carved into the rock. "How much further?"
The blue fairy light was playing tricks on her eyes.
"I can't say for sure," Sayra replied. "This was built before my time. But my ancestors were often big on the Norridic Cycles."
"The what of the who?"
"The Norridic Cycles," the elf said again, leading the way deeper into the mountain. "The theory that everything happens in periods, or fractions, of a ten-year period, which was determined by someone, don't ask me who, as a lucky number to be worked into all calculations."
"Are you kidding me?" Sheala's voice cracked with indignity. "You're saying there could be three thousand steps?"
"Actually, three thousand six hundred. Or more. Or less. It is about the symbology of numbers. And once you allow for portions of the Cycles to be included, it really could be any number." Sayra didn't stop as she spoke, but drew attention to the surrounding walls. "I sense magic was used to assist in this excavation. So, for example, if the mother of the elven mage who assisted in creating these steps was born on the last day of the Earonitan, then perhaps he would have seen symbolism in the fact that the First Month, comprises eleven percent of the days in the year. Then used that to guide his decisions as to how many steps to include."
"Great." Sheala sighed. "So the entire theory is gibberish then?"
"Some would certainly say so. I, myself, am not wholly sold on the concept and tend to err on the side of randomness playing a bigger role in when events occur. Rather than belief in some arbitrary number based on the yearly rotation of Geiha around the sun and someone's prejudices."
There was the slightest hint of something up ahead, noted by a light not coming from the fairies Sayra had summoned. It's brightness started faint, glowing up the stairs from around the ensuing twists below them. At first, it was nearly drowned out by the blue of the fairies. And even though the orangish glow intensified with each new step they took, none present dared to speak of its presence.
