Aflia Cencin walked down the long drive to her family's estate. This was a meeting long overdue, and full of crossing intentions and emotions. On one hand, she had been all but banished from here fourteen years ago, though never formally disowned or disinherited. It left her at an odd place, an outsider in a house that was once her home.

But she wasn't moving back in. The Cencin estate was also home to Hokfiin Faalyol, 'Home of The Fire', Althiem's firing range and testing ground for all things magical and mundane with a tendency to burn and/or explode. Accordingly, it also served as the home-away-from-home for Althiem's wizards and Sorcerers in training. Aflia's father, the venerable Yorziros Elmid, Lord of Cencin, oversaw both the estate and the training grounds. It would be an interesting introduction.

The main door of the hall opened at Aflia's approach, and a tall red-scaled figure stood in the entryway. Grey smoke trailed from one flared nostril as inscrutable eyes regarded her. Aflia gave a half bow of respect, her horns and tail in full view.

"So you return. Why?" Yorziros' voice was flat, but not hard.

Aflia straightened and allowed the dawn's light to reflect from the scales at her throat. "Do you ask as my father? Or as my instructor?"

Yorziros blinked, long and slow, before answering. "Both."

"As a daughter, bearing news that you will wish Lady Cencin to look into, to confirm my own research. As a student, to complete the practical portion of my education as a Sorceress of The Dragon's Blood."

Yorziros stepped back from the doorway and swept an arm wide. "Then enter, Lady Aflia."

As soon as the door closed behind Aflia, her father swept her into a crushing embrace. "I have missed you so."

Aflia returned the hug, "easy now, my bones aren't as hard as yours father. But where is mother?"

She felt the tears fall upon her back and knew no answer would be forthcoming for some time.

Talae Telenna studied the forest trail leading up into the mountains outside of Padan, the Capital city of Althiem and the principal port of the island nation. She liked the woods, the wilds. Towns were acceptable, but cities were too big. Too full of people, which in her mind meant full of plots. Talae had had enough of plots and daggers looking for unguarded backs.

So the trail up the mountains was a trail to a haven. A dangerous one, to be sure, as was any home amid the untamed wilds. But a haven that was home to druids, a place where she could learn of this Sunlit Land, and perhaps more about herself.

About the wanderlust pulsing in her blood, the Rage lurking in the depths of her heart, the drumbeat in her soul.

Talae shouldered her pack and started up the trail.

When she reached to foothills, the trail degraded from beaten dirt to game trails. Here was where civilization ended and the Wilds began. There was no clear mark down in the Dark, only dust atop stone, passages untraveled in living memory. Talae pressed on.

As dusk fell, she could see the faint glow of a fire in a cave. Talae heard the drums echoing on the wind, and for the first time in her life, heard a beat she wanted to dance to.

Aris Cretu spat out the dirt of the sparring circle. The blademaster wanted to 'get a sample of his skills', but was clearly not holding anything back. Alright, time to stop holding back himself then. Aris grabbed a handful of earth and threw it as he came to his feet.

The blademaster cursed and spat, rubbing at his eyes.

Aris closed the distance, grabbed his greatsword by the blade, and used the cross guard to hook the blademaster's knees and pull.

The blademaster went airborne and landed heavily on his back. Rolling sideways, the blademaster went to regain his feet, but fond he had rolled his throat against the flat of Aris' greatsword. He froze, then rolled back the other way and came to his feet. "Point to you cadet. Where'd you learn that trick?"

Aris recovered his blade and fell set again. "Westmarch, when the Orcs came."

The blademaster falls to a rest position. "First time in a dueling circle then?"

Airs nods but never lets his eyes shift away from the blademaster. "What I have learned, I learned in the fighting at the front of the block, in the press of pikes."

The blademaster cleans and sheaths his blade. "Stand easy then. I've read the official reports, but to hear for a veteran of that campaign... Ale tonight at the Marksman? You bring your stories, I'll bring mine."

Aris sheathes his greatsword. "Aye sir." Things were looking up, and a night at a tavern would help his elvish studies, as well as cement the friendship of a man worth knowing.

Khuk brushed at the feathers along the edges of her wings. They itched form not flying, but with her pinions clipped, that wasn't an option. She sighed and looked out the balcony window at the waterfront and wished she could ride the thermals out in that harbor. Khuk could smell them from here...

"Little Bird? You're not brushing your wings again are you?"

Khuk sighed, "yes I am Sister Valfina. I'll be molting soon, and I can't bathe the way the rest of you can. Once that is done, I'll be able to fly again."

Valfina leaned against the doorframe in her lightweight robes. "I just can't wrap my head around this obsession of yours. Why do you want to fly so badly?"

Khuck bobbed her head. "I've spent two-thirds of my life aloft on the winds. Could you go as long without the touch of our Goddess?"

Valfina shudders, not at all feigned, "that good?"

Khuk cracked her beak, the closest she could come to smiling, "better."

Valfina's eyes glimmer. "when you finish molting, I'll take you up on that then. But for now, we have some studying to do."

Khuk laughed, flexed her wings, and set aside her brush. "Here or down stairs?"