Prelude
Baba Luga
Vestige
PRELUDE: ZHUDUN'S GROVE
Inawenys has never known such deep trance. As her eyes twitch and come back into focus, her head is fuzzy, her joints stiff and achy, her back damp and chilled by the dewy grass that has soaked through her clothes. How long has she been meditating here? Is this what it's like for humans, dwarves and the rest when they wake from sleep?
The grass stretches all around her, for as far is she can see. It's quite dark here, though countless stars adorn the clear sky above, and lazy fireflies careen about, buffeted by the occasional breeze. One pale blue star in particular shines brighter than the rest, like an uncut, polished aquamarine. Seen with Inawenys' darkvision, everything else here is black and gray.
Three other people, human, lie in the grass nearby, dressed in simple traveling clothes like what Inawenys herself wears. Their eyes are closed and their chests swell and sink with the slow, regular movements of sleeping humans. She knows these three—Moire, Hircus and Tegen—quite well, she feels. The details of their personalities and lives drift through her mind. But, if asked, she'd be unable to say how she met them, or recall any shared experiences. It's almost as if each is a character in a different story she's heard over and over again.
Despite the damp and chill, it's quiet here, peaceful even, though there is something strange and foreboding about that pale star, like a distant, mournful cry carried on the wind.
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