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PoE/PoE:D spoilerinos

There was Nothing.

And then there was something.

Nothing more than a thought, a concept. It was one and it was many. It swirled and coalesced, condensing. Like stars, one by one, they began to wink into existence, or more accurately, becoming aware. One thought became many; many thoughts forming into one thing - a feeling.

Pain.

There was a brief moment, a breath, cut short as something fizzled and arced violently, shattering the thoughts and scattering them across the expanse. Some thoughts, unable to carry the weight of pain, simply evanesced, refusing to bear the burden of feeling. Others strong enough hung in the air whispered, screamed, silent but deafening. They gathered, clung to each other, desperate to share, desperate to not be alone. Desperate to be more than a feeling.

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The thoughts rearranged into a memory.

It remembered why there was pain, why there was screaming. It began to know.

It remembered the smell, that was overwhelming, suffocating, burnt meat with wood, cloying smoke tainted with acrid chemical.

It remembered the feeling, each breath igniting it’s lungs, each breath eating away at the fragile tissue, corrosive and hungry.

It remembered the sound, a dreadful crashing and a frightful chorus of wailing and screaming only to be cut short by either a gurgle or simply nothing at all.

It remembered the sight. It saw bones rended from flesh, it saw empty, crumbling, frail husks of kith, frozen in a silent scream, hands thrown up to protect themselves from whatever horror had emerged to tear their souls asunder.

But it wasn’t enough.

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It wasn’t enough. It lingered on that one singular thought for a moment and in that moment it registered a new thing. Emotion. Enmity. Sorrow. Grief. And then it faded and the form faltered, the edges of it already beading and scattering, threatening to disperse again back into the Nothing. Why would it persist if all it felt was these feelings, these horrible burdens, everything it knew was in that maelstrom of animus and wretchedness.

But then again, maybe it knew more. Another thought coiled, twisting and swirling and more clung to it, solidifying into another memory. Smiles. Warm. A feeling of belonging. Feet falling on soft loamy earth, high spirited nothing-talk and a small white fox trotting ahead proud.

That thought was rend in two by another one, opposing. And another. They presented their conundrum. Fear of loss, fear of death, fear of abandonment. Fear of failure. They settled on that for a moment.

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Fear is learned, one train of thought - no, now it was a Voice - writhed, specks of stardust and rolling mist in rosy hues gathered. Without the pain, we would know not of fear.

Would we live in entropy, another voice challenged, more mist, twisting and weaving condensed. Would we forget, all for fear, all for pain, all for sadness. It would matter not. The Wheel would turn, we would do it all again. It would not be gone, it be experienced anew. Echoes of affirmation followed, the consensus was complete.

So, it is decided? A chorus of voices echoed around the void of Not Here, Not There. It… reached out, the formless mass twisting into shape, a finger, a hand, an arm, reaching through the In-Between, seeking the light above.

No, wait.

It knew this. This had already happened.

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It snapped it’s eyes open in a panic and it saw nothing. This hadn’t happened in it’s memory. It tried to take a step, retracing the memory's path as she remembered it but the way ahead was thick, viscous and her body resisted. She breathed and a wall of iron hit her lungs, she coughed, spluttered but nothing came up, just more of the burning, choking air made it’s way into her lungs.

The feeling on her tongue was cold, salty.

Another wall slammed against her body and this time, she felt her hair swirl around her as if picked up and carried by a current. She heard more, she blinked again and saw, though it was nothing more than a sea-green haze, marbled with lazy, rolling red tendrils that rose from black, formless shapes. Another blink and the orlan realised that they were bodies, surrounded by pieces of splintered timber. And then another wave hit her and it went dark again - but she could still hear them, scared whispers, pleads for help, soft, dutiful prayers to Ondra.

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Sand.

That was the first thing Leona could taste, as the world swam back into existence. It was also the first thing she could feel, see and breathe, as her senses started to refocus. She instinctively drew breath, before she realised she couldn't without inhaling more of the blasted stuff and she arched her back, rolling over in a fit of wheezing, sand and seawater rolling forth from her mouth.

She wheezed, one last shaky breath before unceremoniously coughing the last of the vile liquid out before a soft, familiar presence touched her mind and she realised she'd had an audience the entire time.

Leona inclined her head in his direction and flicked her long, furred ears to try and dislodge what sand she could. The main member in her audience of two was casually sitting with his back against a rock, gazing thoughtfully out to sea, a serene expression on his face as he puffed on a pipe - an odd expression, considering the splintered timber, dead bodies and scattered cargo strew about the beach. "I'm okay, don't worry about me. Not dying or anything." Leona ran the back of her palm across her mouth, mopping up the last bit of drool from her episode.

He thoughtfully chewed on the end of his pipe, soft white smoke bobbing with the movement. "You just looked so peaceful, with your head in the sand. Figured I'd let you get a bit of an extra sleep in, it's been a long day for you, all two hours, that must be exhausting." He tilted his head towards her, unable to shoot over a shit-eating grin, before examining her with a bit of worry.

"Ha ha." Leona grumbled, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder and shakily pull herself to her feet. Well, standing upright was a lot harder than she remembered it being.

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“Listen, I wanted a holiday for sure, but there were far better ways to go about it.” She cast her mind outwards and almost toppled back onto her rear as pain, fear and panic assaulted her mind all at once. The thoughts of souls, reliving the final moments of their death pressed against her now fragile mind, battering her thoughts and she let out a low, hissing breath and cut the connection. “Ugh. Shit…”

“Y’all good there?” Edér quirked an eyebrow, finally pulling himself to his feet and dusting himself off - a cloud of sand lazily drifting off as he did so. “I hope you're not planning on dying again, we only just gotcha back.”

“Y-yeah. Just guessin’ that missing piece of my soul was a bit more responsible for the strength of my cipher abilities than I thought.” Dead, huh. She had died, or at least come as close as she could to it. The Pallid Knight had said as much but it was only just sinking now.

No. Let's not think about that. Ruminating over one's death was self-destructive, at least, while they stood on the beach, maybe not alone if the soft thoughts of others pressing against her head was anything to go by. She clamped down, firmly cutting them out for now. Answers first. She was… where, The Deadfire? Golden sands, emerald jungle and sapphire seas... yeah that pretty much fit the bill.

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"My lady, do you mind filling us in on what happened?" A feminine voice filtered through a marble bust lying face up on the sand - her second audience member. Before answering, Leona grimaced and reached out, plucking the head up and placing it upright against a rock. It felt.... fundamentally wrong seeing the Steward without a body, though it amazed the Orlan that she was still alive at all.

"Well… Berath has named me as her Herald. Eothas took a piece of my soul and now I must pursue him through the Deadfire and ascertain his purpose." Leona sighed and dramatically turned to face the sea, putting on a wistful expression as the wind whipped through her russet brown fur and hair. Behind her, Edér couldn't help but shake his head with a chuckle. "And get my soul back, that bit's important too."

“Eothas? You're not joking, huh?" Edér scratched the side of his beard and looked back to the jungles behind them in thought. She didn’t need to peer inside the farmer's head to know he was grappling with a very specific thought. He’d confided in her that he was an Eothasian once and the actions of his chosen god had painted a neat little target on his back he'd almost literally thrown himself into her company just to avoid an uneventful death, hanging from a gallow's tree.

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"Yeah. Somehow he managed to get inside Maros Nua. I'm pretty sure I saw him walk onto this island. I'd recognise those green and gold ass cheeks anywhere." Leona snickered, reaching down to pluck her weapons out of the sand - a great sword, almost the same height as her little 4'4" body, and swung it over her back.

“You know, you could have stopped after that first sentence.” Edér managed to get out, between a stifled laugh. Somewhere behind them was a soft groan and if Leona hadn’t been too familiar with the Steward’s exasperation for her bad jokes, she would have just assumed it was the wind. “I would have greatly appreciated not havin’ that image of my god in my head while we chase him around.”

“Not my fault old, mad Od Nua carved it so fine. And it’s his son, how scandalous.” Leona shot back.

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“Watcher.” The stern voice cut through the conversation and for a brief moment, the Orlan stowed away her Cheshire grin and pulled together a serious look. “If you may allow me a moment, if you need to pursue the titan, I would recommend repairing your ship. Also there may be some crew still alive, and...” Here she paused, almost reluctantly. “Well... Vela.”

Something cracked, a ripple of system shock running through. “Vela? What? Why?” she snapped, whirling on the two, hands balled into tight little fists. Her brain wasn't able to force any more words out in its short circuited state. That was her daughter! Well, adopted daughter. Kinda. By technicality.

“Hey, easy. I wasn’t gonna leave her in the middle of a ruined keep! What else was I to do?” Edér raised his hands up in a defensive gesture, adopting a softer tone. He wasn't truly bothered by her sudden onset of rage, she could see that, but he'd had a six year period to get a feel for her moods and how to sort them out. "You kidnapped the baby, figured you'd want her to be brought along - so, y'know, you could keep her safe."

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“Aye.” Leona sighed, reluctantly pulling the walls down around her mind and allowing herself to spill forward, seeking for any semblance of intelligent thought. She pushed aside the minds of her nearest company and expanded outwards. Several thoughts were shaky, wavering or caught in the memory of waves, storms and splintering timber - dead souls, still clinging to this plane, and she pushed them aside also. Then there was a fresh feeling - pain in her leg, okay, one living soul was there, and then another three more on the beach… and another, there, in the cave, lost and trapped!

"Okay, I got 5 pings." she breathed out, severing the connections and teasing through her hair as she deliberated the next step. One was familiar, that was comforting. "I'm going to round up the survivors and then we'll… see to getting this piece of junk fixed." Leona hesitated, turning green eyes to inspect her companion. "And… then, I'll charter you a ride back to the Dyrwood if you'd like."

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She held him with a tentative look, but that quickly faded as a look of disbelief crossed Edér's face and his pipe fell slack in his mouth for a second. "What? Did you hit your- oh, right." He sheepishly glanced back at the wreck of their sloop.

"Naw, we've been working together since you showed up in the Gilded Vale six years ago, I ain't gonna back out now. I promise you we'll get your soul back. And get you outta whatever contract Berath's got you in, okay?" Edér clapped a friendly hand on her shoulder and she almost buckled under the weight. That was… incredibly concerning, she decided in that moment. Gods knew how long it would take her to get back to strength, if that was enough to topple her.

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"Well, I... thanks. Really." Leona shook her head. She wasn't ungrateful for the company and the Meadow folk was the closest thing she had to a brother, or well, family period. . "Guess we're doing this again, huh. The travelling around, saving the world from something incredibly unbelievable, huh?" She shook her head and waved a hand, gesturing for them to walk and talk.

"Heh, yeah. I guess so." He started trudging through the sand, crinkling his nose at how his boots sank half an inch with each step. "'Cept this time we don't have Aloth hidin' behind your coat tails and shadowin' your every footstep." He chuckled and looked around, almost half expecting the Wood Elf to pop out of the jungle at any moment.

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"Pfft, like you were any better, Mr. 'Nineteen'. S'like no one taught you stranger danger. You were tripping over your feet to find an excuse to leave town with me, and then kept looking over your shoulder expecting to see the pitchforks following." Leona rolled her eyes. "You're right though, feels weird without him, buuut he chose to leave us, so that's on him. We'll just have to journal our incredibly interesting adventure and send it to him after, that'll make him incredibly jealous that he missed out."

"I'm pretty sure they were. You just... didn't see 'em." Edér thoughtfully chewed on the end of his pipe and nodded his head enthusiastically. "I like this plan though. So what, we wrangle the next elf or mage we see and force 'em to join our party?"

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"Hel yeah, and then we accidentally refer to them as Aloth in the notes, cross it out only just enough and keep goin'." Leona hopped a little as she walked, thoroughly enjoying their devious little plot. "It'll drive him crazy, he'll storm back from Aedyr and then we'll just hit him with the 'ya had to be there' response."

They continued this banter some more as they collected the surviving members of the Defiant and moved further inland, hoping to find signs of civilisation and Eothas.

Despite the light-hearted tone, the conversation was a sobering one though. She'd come far from the little noble's pet-turned-dissident from the Aedyran Empire, to Lady of Caed Nua, to... well, flotsam, she grimly considered.

[Crystal Synthesis Complete]