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Yhl’Kabletli had ventured to the island of Khalenwyr upon the relentless calls within his dreams, answering a divine summoning. He had thought this beckon was for him to take in the lessons of his kin and return to Aevos equipped with the path forward. He had thought he would return home. His steps were softened by lichen and moss that had reclaimed the stone streets, which had once bustled with others who looked just like him. Each crumbled building was a shrine to history, his history. Kabletli could feel it down to his marrow, it made his fur stand on end. Sure, he had been here before, but he was but a boy then, with a sparse understanding of the world. Now, he was a leader, an Aelkos, a pioneer in Kharajyr history… But was this not Kharajyr history? The greatest monument to what his people had been? Could be? Yhl’Kabletli’s steps drew to a temple to Metztli, now fallen to ruin, the heart of this carcass of a society. The flora had taken the place of what he could only imagine had been countless Kha, filling the entrance and spaces within. The altar was still there, offerings replaced by dust, decrepit. He hadn’t even noticed he had dropped to his knees before it, not until he reached forward and found the distance wouldn’t close. Deep within his soul, an innate feeling crept in. This was the message. He belongs here. Here. The call he had been hearing was not to gain information to bring back, but rather to share information to those who come. Kabs’s mind drew towards what he had left back on his home continent, the people, the community. Could they survive without him? Would they? Had he done enough for them? Was he allowed to make this choice? But he wasn’t making this decision. This was divine instruction. Slowly, his emerald eyes, who’s vision had began to grow weaker in his climbing age, rose to the dilapidated altar. Metztli was making it for him. He had to stay, he had a new duty to his people, a duty that would leave him a ghost haunting this abandoned paradise. An entity that Khalenwyr had yet to see; A guide through the ruins, to ensure the history within would be truly understood but each young Kharajyr who made their Pilgrimage. As nightfall came, and the shadow of his slumbering goddess began to climb the sky’s ladder, Kabletli settled himself into what was once a calpulli unit, the items he had packed for the journey laid out in the mossy flooring. The cool light cascaded onto him, the reflection nearly making his orange fur appear white. Kab the Faithful, that was his name, afterall. As the old Tigrasi allowed himself the privilege of taking the time to observe his surroundings, rain began to spill from the sky above and fill the air with a steady rhythm. A message, perhaps, that this would not be his end. It was the rain, afterall, that would have allowed life to begin anew after the disastrous fate Khalenywr faced all those centuries ago. One Kharajyr left alone on the island could, just maybe, become more than that. With his mind drifting, and a heave of force, Kabletli lifted himself to venture back outside. He grinned as the rain soaked through to the flesh beneath his dense fur, once soft now coarse with his age. Despite it, he wasn’t cold. The air of the island was comfortably warm, a warmth he had not felt in all his years amongst the descendant people. He wondered, then, if it was the climate, or something grander than that. “Mul’ta, Metztli. For this second chance at a life my patta almost took for me.” yhl’Kabletli said to the sky, the Kharahatla on his tongue as natural as breathing was. “I will look after your children.” His mind drifted towards the youth he was leaving behind. They had to know their Aelkos hadn’t died on the journey. [!] All the below letters are written in Kharahatla A Letter to The Sanctuary A Letter to So’Bartixci A Letter to Do’Tilipotonqui A Letter to So'Flaaowni A Letter to Xo’Siyaj OOC
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A Long Dream In the dead of the night, a young-looking elf with tousled, dirty blonde hair toils tirelessly in the Workforce Building near his residence in the Cargonia District. His cerulean eyes, mirrors of the vast ocean, scrutinize each item he handles. Faelion steals a moment for respite. His arms extend above him gracefully, a hand caressing the fatigue from his other limb, accompanied be a refreshing "Eeeeaaagh... Aaaahhhh..." A melodious contentment echoes through the walls of the Workforce Building. Amidst the tranquility, memories of Lumia's wedding surge. A mixture of exhilaration at the use of fireball and a cloud of worry spawned by Scrisa's assault on the Golden Lubba's marriage. The thought of flinging fireballs makes his heart flutter. Fireballs, of all things. Faelion's shoulders sag, a heavy sigh escaping his lips, before he resumes his work. In the silent night, atop Lurin's Workforce Building, a bright, luminous light—brighter than the noonday sun—emanates from within, leaking through the windows. A voice can be heard, "Faelion... It's time for you to wake up..." =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! The jarring sound of an alarm clock shook the room in the early morning. "Hey! Go down and eat your breakfast, young man!" Aurelia, a woman in her late 20s who bore a striking resemblance to an older, gender-bent Faelion, stood over her slumbering younger brother. She tried to rouse him with a mix of authority and care. "5 minutes..." Faelion muttered in protest against his older sister. He grabbed a nearby pillow, covering his face, attempting to reclaim the remnants of sleep. "You'll be late for your first day of class," Aurelia reminded him, forcefully snatching the pillow Faelion had used to shield his face and giving him a gentle pinch to coax her little brother to get out of bed. "Alright, alright. Ow! Stop pinching me, Sis," Faelion groaned, trying to shake off his older sister, all while feigning resistance to convince her that he was already awake. Aurelia stood up from Faelion's bed and observed the young man, crossing her arms with her right foot tapping rhythmically on the wooden floor. "You'll go back to sleep once I go down on my own." "Fiiiine." Faelion reluctantly rose from bed, finally yielding to his older sister's persistence. As Faelion ambled through the city, making his way to school, he vividly reminisced about the dreams he had. His mind replayed scenes of proud warriors going to war, incredible wizards flinging powerful spells, vast lands and frozen wastelands, forests with towering trees, encounters with demons and dragons, and witnessing unspeakable horrors. Amid these dreamt landscapes, Faelion found kindness, and, more importantly, made friends along the way. It was indeed a long dream—one he wished had never ended. Waiting for the bus to school, Faelion glanced at his watch and realized he had ample time before its arrival. He opened his new college notebook, a fresh canvas for this chapter of his life, and grabbed a pen. In the notebook, he inscribed these words: "I dreamt for miles; now reality smiles. Grateful for the journey, it was a dream that turned. Thank you." "I dreamt for miles; now reality smiles. Grateful for the journey, it was a dream that turned. Thank you." ~ FIN ~
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I just wanted to say I am leaving Lotc, If you wish to know why, you can seek out my Discord. - Jakob'#0229
