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:: The sun is low in the sky as you pass by the Chronicles :: :: of the Winds, and your mind is filled with thoughts of :: :: a hot dinner and a warm bed. Even so, the fluttering of :: :: a particular document on the board catches your eye. :: :: Thinking that the handwriting looks familiar, you lean :: :: in for a closer look... The fog was thick as I walked along the banks of Nagnang's northern river, but that's nothing new. It clings to everything - trees, buildings, and even people. If you aren't careful, you can lose yourself in it, and in Nagnang, losing yourself could be the end of you. I've made a habit of avoiding that kind of fate, though. The fog is my ally, my companion, but it does have a way of making you forget what you need to remember. It was just past dusk when I saw her - the one they call Kierendal. She emerged from the mist like she was part of it, her silhouette flickering in and out of view as the fog shifted. Tall and curvaceous, her dark hair fell like a veil over her face, hiding eyes that somehow always seem to see through you, while never actually looking at you. Her presence was unsettling, a quiet sort of danger wrapped in an air of mystery. I don't trust her. I don't trust anyone, but Kierendal? She has a way of making even the air feel tense, like it might snap at any moment. "Ashalia," she called, her voice calm, but with a discordant note that hinted at something beneath the surface. "You're a long way from home." I raised an eyebrow, scanning the fog, keeping my distance. "I'm always far from home," I said, my tone flat. "It's where I like to be." She smirked, though the expression never fully reached her eyes. "The fog is a tricky thing. It has a way of drawing in the curious, the desperate... and the foolish." "And I'm none of those things," I replied, stepping closer but keeping my hand near my dagger, just in case. You never know with people like her. "And you" You're as strange as they say. Always lurking in the fog, always sharing visions no one asked for. You're not looking for trouble, are you?" She looked at me then, her gaze piercing through the mist, as if trying to read me the same way she might read the future. "I don't look for trouble," she said, her voice low, almost a whisper. "Yet somehow it always seems to find me." She was fishing. I didn't respond right away, letting the silence hang in the air. I don't look for trouble either, I just know exactly where to find it when I need to. The key to survival isn't avoiding danger - it's knowing how to use it to your advantage. "I can't help you, Kierendal," I said, finally breaking the silence. "You're wasting your time." Her eyes flickered with something I couldn't place. "You're not like the others, Ashalia. I can see it. You don't need anyone. Then again ... we all need something. Even you." Her words hung there like overripe apples waiting to be picked, but I refused to let them get to me. I don't need anyone. I never have. I've made it this far on my own, and that's how it's going to stay. "People like you don't change, Kierendal," I said, taking a step back to distance myself from her, both physically and emotionally. "You can hide in the fog with your secrets, but you're not fooling anyone." Kierendal's smile was cold, distant. "You think I hide, do you?" She tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing in that way that makes her seem like she's always watching, always calculating. "You have no idea what I've seen, what I've done. You think you can walk away from me just because ~you~ say so?" I knew what she was trying to do - trying to provoke me, to make me question myself. But it wouldn't work. It never does. "I'm not interested in your games," I said, my voice hard. "I don't trust anyone who uses the fog as a shield. You're about as subtle as a sword in a velvet glove." I took a moment to let the words sink in. :: Continued ... | |