There are no foreign lands. It is the traveler only who is foreign.

-Robert Louis Stevenson

After waking drenched in sweat and with a frantically beating heart, Alyssa did not go back to sleep. She sat beside the wagon and tried to remember what she had seen in that distant dream. Her life of late felt like running down the slope of a mountain, and for the longest time and whenever she thought of stopping, there loomed the very real possibility of falling and falling badly, so the only thing to do then was not to stop, to keep running, using the momentum to not fall.

But now in this space of time, she thought of her father, of the specter- she saw Asandria standing before a tree playing with a falling leaf- and of the wyvern, the dead. She thought and she did not come to any conclusions save that she would keep running, would keep trying to survive. She thought of her mother and her endless optimism. She would have known what to do.

She realized that she no longer clearly remembered her face. Had not been able to do so for some time now. She sat in the darkness crying silently, trying not to alert the sentry.

Then as the sun slowly crested the mountain peaks she resumed her practice of the firebolt which more or less began to deserve the name.

“You are early, couldn’t sleep?” Tira came over and sat down beside her leaning on the wagon.

The half-formed firebolt evaporated into the morning mist with a subdued hiss.

“Yes, I had a disturbing dream. Not exactly bad, but I couldn’t sleep anymore.” Replied Alyssa. Ghostly, tinkling laughter hung in the mist.

“Don't let it get you down, I shudder when I think of the day before yesterday and all that death.” She closed her eyes. “I did not know them well but we traveled for about a week before it happened. I was recruited to the company in Windkeep Castle, I was at loose ends there, having lost the steading I had grown up in. Was out hunting and when I got back, I saw a giant with two struggling cows under his arms stomping north and the longhouse in ruins. Everywhere only the dead and the undead.” She looked lost.

Alyssa surprised by the outpouring from the normally cheerful Tira hesitated then placed an arm on her shoulder and squeezed once before letting go. “I am sorry for your loss.”

“It happened three months ago, I am mostly okay now. As I saw the ghouls feasting…I ran. I could not have done anything but get myself killed, but I did not think, I could have perhaps helped someone, saved someone. The priests I spoke to when I got to Windkeep, the village is named Windkeep also, creative isn't it?” She laughed a bit weakly. “They told me to channel my sorrow and anger into something constructive. And then I went and became a mercenary. That's constructive.”

“I don’t think that this deserves such negativity.” Said Alyssa. ”Some people never would have recovered after that. And when your talents lie in that direction...you can't always choose your path.” She looked contemplative.

They sat silently and basked in the first rays of the sun slowly warming the mist settling in the upper branches of the surrounding trees. The light illuminated Alyssa's pale hair.

“Breakfasts ready, come get yours.” Adrian on cooking duty again called. When she had asked why he tolerated it, he said, “at least then the food's edible; never ever try Iketts cooking.”

“Today we will, barring anything unforeseen, reach Sorringen.” Torvak said as they sat eating. “Alyssa, you were more than helpful, some of us collected a little gift for the road.” he winked and threw her a small pouch.

“Thank you!” She would normally argue that they had helped her too, but she could not be proud when she did not know how she was going to earn money in the future, and she was still on the run. “I would hire you on the spot for your healing ability alone. But I fear that you would reject me regardless- am I right?” He looked at her with a knowing grin.

She looked away, then turned back to him and nodded saying “You are right. I can't stay here. My road leads me further on.” Ghostly hair swaying Asandria nodded quietly alongside her, eyes dark spots in the flawless transparent face.

Tira looked a bit disappointed. Christina seemed thoughtful. As the meal progressed and the first people were readying everything for the departure Adrian came over and said. “I have written a letter of introduction for you. If you ever find yourself in Margrinar you can go to the professor for applied evocation and conjuration Escaldis Aldrnari. He is to be found in the Academy of the Arts in Kronenburg. I think you have what it takes." He looked a bit embarrassed coughed and continued. "Come show me how far you got with your firebolt.”

She looked surprised and touched. “Thank you, Adrian. You already did so much for me, teaching me- and of course, let me prepare.”

They went to the side of the road facing the mountain. She began to gesture and a voice whispered on the wind ‘try singing it’. She found the words, was gifted the words, in the tongue of fire as old as sunken Allisair and she sang the firebolt into existence glowing a brilliant blue-white, crackling with the contained energies of a blast furnace singing the grass and everything around. Adrian's eyes widened in surprise, Alyssa nearly lost control as she was also surprised and barely containing the power, the bolt flaring with heat, she loosed it at the earth some twenty paces before them. There was a dull thump and the earth sprayed into the sky while the grass, even dew-laden and wet as it was, burned to ash.

“What was that!?” Torvak looked surprised and came running over. “Our prodigy cast a firebolt,” Adrian said dryly. He would have pulled off the calm and collected look had his hand not grasped the side of the wagon with a force that let his knuckles turn white. “I am sorry, really sorry, I did not mean for it to do that.” Alyssa apologized.

Tira laughed and the tension slowly diminished. “Don't do that without warning us first.”

“I would make you another offer if I did not know it was going to be refused. Such a pity.” Torvak clapped her on the shoulder and went to look for the rest of the crew.

“Good thing we don’t have the horses anymore, they would have been spooked beyond recovery,” Olaf mentioned.

As she turned around to help with dismantling the rest of the camp the wind or perhaps the commotion had lifted a bit of the cloth protecting the cage on the wagon and she saw a small, fragile, slightly inhuman hand grasping with long pale fingers at the bars of rune-covered iron. The hand of a child or a small woman. The bars gave off a slight white glow and the hand was quickly retracted.

Startled Alyssa looked around but saw no one watching. Deeply troubled she thought for a bit and then went to look for Tira. “Tira? Got a moment?”

“Yes, I was just ready.” Tira grabbed her backpack. “What do you need.” She smiled.

“It might be a difficult question and I understand if you don’t want to talk about it.” While Alyssa was talking Tira grew a bit concerned hearing that.

“Do you know what's in that cage on the wagon? I saw a hand.”

“Oh.” Tira looked conflicted. “That's something I should not talk about, but rest assured it's not something you should be concerned about.” She leaned forward “It's not human, or even alive.”

Alyssa looked startled “An undead?” “Pssst.” Tira pulled her aside. “Don't talk about it, we were sworn to secrecy, but you have seen it already, so please keep quiet about it.”

While the others were getting underway Alyssa stood a way to the side and looked at the cage. A small face was visible for a short moment. It had a pointed chin beautifully formed like an arrowhead, all sharp angles, with blue-white hair, the eyes reflecting light like a cat, glowing a lambent blue-green.

And she was pretty sure, that she or It had been looking at her.

Her left hand was freezing and a strange resonance let her feel the being in the cage as if it were some cold fire radiating its energy, like standing before a glacier with eyes closed embracing the frost.