Incline 40: Valkinvar-Imdvarce Vapooliar

My armoured feet echo their noise about the hallway, only leaving me somewhat as I come outside. My most readily available hand comes up, sanding its way across the redstone walls. It slaps away, out into the open with some arcane force. A visible wind rushes down the half closed tunnel, spiralling out of control as more and more finds the open city.

My frown deepens, and another sigh breaks my lips apart. Last cycle was certainly... Was certainly an event if there ever was one. I had my vision and its strange events drove me to delve into the libraries of the Valkinvar. Then I got to see firsthand how badly the upper echelons of Valkinvar leadership have broken down. One does not think cutthroat when one hears of Valkinvar, and yet now I am finding myself thinking like that.

For all there is to worry about and concern myself with, I find myself lax. There's nothing stopping me, no roadblock or avalanche that has blocked the passages of my mind. I just don't feel like doing anything. An odd sensation to have with what is on my mind so much these cycles.

Maybe I don't feel like I need to do much else? My talk with Sister Dannatili told me of plans and efforts to conduct our war. Everything she told me has shown itself to be true, though, not in the way any of us could hope for. The Zaphadren-Valkinvar confirmed Sister Dannatili's words. Not that I had any reason to think she was lying, anyway. 

What purpose would a Valkinvar have to lie to another? We're Valkinvar, not children at school and elsewhere. This is no political hall... Though, I suppose the truth is far different for someone above my position. I might have this proof of trust from the Eurultus-Valkinvar, this medallion. But I am not her, or am I even close to her.

Word has it that I am still what I was decades ago. The last Valkinvar to ever be fully inducted. I haven't even tried to disprove such ludicrous words. I just took it as is. 

I am the last Valkinvar...?

"Not even a Valkinvar, anymore." I sigh, my fists tightening up as the Zaphadren-Valkinvar's words repeat on me so sinisterly. I lost my right the cycle the osibindah got their claws on me. A woman of the Valkinvar must be prepared to offer her virgin body to the God of War on their death. Not in a bed surrounded by loved ones, in the field, the gun-battered field.

The valley of death welcomes all those who kept their oaths. I have not. Where others will go boldly, fair and well. I will wait, I will wait beyond the jaws of death, the mouth of...

My head jerks to the side, a spiral of four colours shining in my iris'. I keep on following the light, finding myself looking upon the Zaphadren-Valkinvar as she talks in private. She waves her hand, motioning her Valkinvar-Staguiffmani away. I go back to minding my business, only to be hooked right back when her head moves. My way.

An uncomfortable stare sets in, one that only begins to quake with dread as the figure grows in size. She approaches quickly, twisting my gaze down the hall as she lands. Her metal-touched slippers tapping along the ground. I face the Zaphadren-Valkinvar, meeting her eyes quietly as her expression turns kind and welcoming.

Though, it's hard to see it as sincere. With everything I saw last cycle, I do not see how I can trust a smile like that. While she relented about the vision... She was quite adamant about it at first being fraudulent despite the details she kept a hold of.

"Valkinvar-Imdvarce Vapooliar." the Zaphadren-Valkinvar greets, coming closer with that gut-wrenching smile on her face. I straighten up, easing my facial burden into something more appropriate. I offer a quick salute, doing as I must for such a superior.

"Zaphadren-Valkinvar Gemorli." I answer, lingering around only in the event an order might come out of her lips.

"Walk with me," she orders, gesturing me closer. I follow, keeping my distance as she glances back my way.

"Might I ask for what purpose?" I do so, keeping my eyes on her for only the briefest of spells. 

"So we can talk about your vision," she explains and my brow slightly rises.

"Everything you need to know is in the tablet you kept." I tell her, not sure what else I can really say about it. I've said all there is to say and Sister Pymonsia has my trust that she put it down as word-for-word as was reasonable. There is just nothing else to it.

I was on a plateau, under a night sky that briefly was filled with stars and more. I reached the edge where the darkness was strangely pitch black in its shade. Corpses of Valkinvar appeared around me, Valkinvar-Staguiffmani dead. From myself, I became a weeping member of said Ordoar, all that survived that battle.

In the sky was him, a figure that could've only been Prince Jhrartur. But, while he looked so similar to as he does not. The only thing the vision really lacked was the airships. I guess that makes something very clear, then... The airships came about after all those Valkinvar died...

A grim idea to suddenly have. That the death of so many Valkinvar was needed to power such machines. It's ludicrous and defies our understanding of magic and death. The bodies would become clay in no time, but I can't help but now wonder...

I guess this is why she wants to talk to me about it some more, all it takes is my mind wandering into despair to suddenly think of new things.

"I know, I know. However, I believe we can do something about these visions." she explains, leading me to a stop and a new view.

"The main temple building?" I ask, our meeting seeming almost coincidental. Convenient for her words, I suppose. But I am not welcome in such a place. My heart barred me from there before my secret got out. Now that it is out, the whole world knows about why I don't belong in there.

"Yes, now... While going near the Crown of Conceptual War again might trigger a vision. Your report did mention a prior one, too. Though, I have my doubts we should be seeking further visions..." she explains, the idea not all that well-formed, even in her words. I suppose no one can blame even a Point of the Compass. This is a divinely granted vision. We have no protocol or rules about it... It just is. 

"What do you propose, then?" I ask, looking down at what really gives the Grand Temple of the Four-Winded Valkinvar its name. The very Grand Temple part of it, itself.

"When it comes to the divine, one often seeks their guidance in a holy place. Some, such as Pluuit, might expect you to wander the forests. Apahthein might be frustrating with how the God of Apathy is what he is. But, our husband-to-be, Waionr. He's not them. He's the God of War and there is no greater temple to his name than here. While a battlefield and its resulting field chapels might be more fitting, this is the best option," the Zaphadren-Valkinvar explains as my grip turns delicate.

"I am not welcome in the temple. Besides, a mass is hardly accommodating to a vision." I say, pointing out the awkwardness of me even using such a spacious building.

"I am talking to the other Points of the Compass about it. We are in talks in regards to a Thurnmourer-Jherikra wide festival of sorts. A first of its kind for such an unprecedented event," she says, leading to such a foul feeling confusion in my head and heart.

"We're in a desperate moment of the war against the heretics and you want us to... Throw a festival?" I question and her lips turn knowing, her hands coming up as an awkward huff makes it clear she's at least self-aware. 

"I know, I know. It sounds bad. But, given the vision you had, we seem to be of one mind in a rare moment these cycles," the Zaphadren-Valkinvar explains, turning towards me with a flick of her four-coloured hair. She puts her hand on my shoulder, the side closest to my medallion. Her grip tightens, an aggression to it that I am willing to keep quiet about.

"You want me to lead the festival and hope the vision comes out more completely?" I ask, not all too sure what the purpose of such an event is.

"I want to give you isolated access to the main temple complex. As I said before, putting you before the Crown of Conceptual War again might be a bad idea. Instead, I would like to see if Lord Waionr will reach out to you again in a more... Appropriate environment. A true holy place, rather than one that is circumstantially so," the Zaphadren-Valkinvar explains, an awkward uncertainty to her words. She releases me and I step back.

"Very well. I suppose we can see what comes of it." I answer, and her smile comes out in force, growing wide and curling wickedly at the ends.

"Wonderful!" she chirps, her hands clapping together as her staff masterfully stays upright with no physical support.

"How am I meant to go about it?" I question, not sure what to do in such a grand temple on my own. The Grand Temple is really that, grand. The definition cannot escape the main building of Thurnmourer-Jherikra. Nothing can.

"We will pass out the orders, the rest of the Points of the Compass and I. Everyone shall dress more appropriately for the time period. We shall give it say... What, as the typical calendar says... A week? A week seems fair to see if anything comes of your vision. It will also put everyone's minds at ease. Let them take their thoughts off of preparing for the war to come. We may be Valkinvar, but we are still people, too. Even if nothing comes of it, it is an excuse to ease the tensions of everyone. Give them a moment to share in their faith, not their frustrations." she explains, and I nod.

"That makes sense. Am I to pray for anything specific...?" I ask, not entirely sure what I would even fill out the Grand Temple with. It's a building built for the beautiful acoustics of an army of Valkinvar in prayer. A lone Feather is hardly going to make use of that.

"Prayer as you might at any other time. Let it come naturally. We shall see quite clearly at that point if there truly is anything worth in the vision, no?" she explains, her voice hurried and tone dismissive.

"I suppose...?" I answer, not entirely sure what to expect of the moment. If all of the Points of the Compass are in agreement about it or near enough, then I should trust their judgement. But, as the Zaphadren-Valkinvar has put it, it feels off. Like a placating excuse rather than anything determined.

If both of my visions came from the Crown of Conceptual War, then I should go back there. My own safety be damned in all its aspects. If there is a chance, this is relating to the war, then I need to act on it. We all do. If I am the only one getting these visions, then it is my burden alone. My burden...

To think I needed more burdens I uniquely held onto...

"When shall I begin?" I ask, seeking some idea of when to get ready. Since Sister Pymonsia relocated me and my living quarters to somewhere closer to hers, it's been a bit troublesome to remember the way. I'm not allowed near my old barracks in fear of carrying on the Sister Ogawa affair...

"At night's arrival. It will allow your mind more time to itself. The dark will keep distracting sights covered in shadow and more," the Zaphadren-Valkinvar answers, leaving without another word despite many more really being needed. I linger where I am, watching her leave with all the grace I once found myself in awe of.

My brow settles and I glance around, aimlessly.

"I guess she has a point." I mutter, thinking about how much detail I can clearly see. I know the history and the details of so much and what I don't is practically aligned so much it matters not.

Still, it's a scary thing... These visions. I am alone in them. They're coming to me in terrifying, uncertain times and I am not put at ease because of it.