The Return

I've seen waves of pure creation crash against a beach that devours them greedily. I have loved and lost countless wonders this universe proffers before me. Yet none of these sensations compare to returning to a place my mind finds synonymous with Peace. - Emil Mes Leer (Accounts of the Planescholar Society's founding members: Emil Mes Leer)

The wreathe of flame dissipated almost as quickly as it had erupted. As it did, Evan was welcomed by familiar, but sorely missed, sensations. Night. Moonlight. A gentle, cold breeze.

Evan fought back the tears that rose to the surface as he embraced the long-forgotten feeling of night, looking up at the impossibly vast array of stars in the sky above. And the breeze, painfully cold but wonderfully so, it felt almost like a caress to enjoy the nuances of the seasons, none of which passed in Venthrey.

The grass beneath his feet was cold and wet with dew, yet it had a familiarity to it and a fondness that Venthrey's could never truly capture. He stood upon a grassy hill, overlooking what he made out to be a series of woods to the north and east, a rolling series of hills and plains to the south, and a rippling ocean gleaming with gorgeous moonlight to the west. Salt. It was such a welcome smell, though he nearly sneezed at its presence.

Simply by these features, he could not say for certain where he was, nor if there was civilization anywhere nearby. Though the moon was out, it had far too little light to show him any specifics of his surroundings, particularly not any facet of community. Of the five continents of Miren, he could eliminate only Frigna, the southernmost continent which had a perpetual winter. 

No matter where I am, he realised, it is, at the very least, on the Prime Plane. In that moment, a powerful sensation, a weight lifted from his shoulders. His legs became weak underneath him. Through all he had done in what he assumed was the last 24 hours, he lacked the strength to keep his legs standing underneath him.

I am alone, he thought as sleep weighed heavy upon his eyes, but whether I die or live, I get at least one night home. What willpower he could muster was not enough to keep him awake as his body entered what he believed was the first deep sleep in uncountable time.

It was a painful sleep, the faces of the bestial and monstrous creatures he had seen within the Parthenon snarled and leered at him. A decade of suffering at the whim of Venthrey flew through his mind, the starvation, mania of enduring endless sunlight, the years spent wracked with guilt as he lived with Rubinin. It was painful, and it was long.

Eventually, his eyes tracked open as the forgotten experience of daybreak on the horizon hit him. He was freezing, he felt his whole body shivering as his ragged clothes were soaked through with dew. He started to flail his limbs to stoke them awake and regain proper blood flow. It took several minutes and served as time to dutifully scold himself for falling asleep so carelessly.

At the very least, he had not been attacked, nor robbed. It wasn't like he had much to take anyway. He eventually stumbled to his feet, still suffering from incredible pangs of exhaustion, but managed to regain a semblance of composure and assemble his gear once more.

This then began yet another painful trek for Evan. Civilisation thrives on coastline, he recalled as he set of northward, passing through the stretch of forest in his path. He debated travelling across the plains, if I can't see it from here, nor even a road, my chances aren't great, beyond that, open plains leave little options for foraging.

This decision, it turned out, was the most prudent. The forest was filled with wild berries, fruits of various kinds Evan did not fully recognise, and countless other small pieces of food that he gorged on gluttonously. It was within a couple of hours of this relative feast by Evan's standards, that he began to hear the sounds of exertion, of wood being chopped, of the treeline shaking.

Passing through a few more swathes of large trees, Evan emerged into a scarcely cleared area, where a squat figure was hacking at the trunk of one of the large trees with a fine metal axe. The figure was squat but by no means short, even though he was a head below Evan's height. They wore light clothing which was drenched in sweat and had a head of short hair, though an incredibly voluminous beard. Resting on a tree stump a few paces away was a canteen and bundle.

Evan eyed the canteen so greedily he could not focus his attention on the figure who now turned at his presence. 

"H-hello?" The man asked hesitantly, eyeing Evan carefully, leaning backwards.

Evan tried to muster a response but realised a crucial failing. He could not think of how to respond to such a simple greeting. This was no hag he needed to mind his words around, nor a powerful monster that would kill him if he seemed too weak. This was... a mortal.

The effort in his voice he could muster came out as a croak, and then a burp as he began to feel sick from the vast amount of foraging he had done. This made the man burst into laughter.

"Saints, lad," he chuckled, "you know how to make a' impression. Thirsty, are ya'?" He gestured towards his canteen as he caught Evan's leering towards it.

Evan offered nothing more than a hopeful nod.

"Help yourself. Just help me lug this lot back home in a minute." He gestured with his axe to a pile of firewood Evan had not noticed hiding behind an adjacent tree.

Evan thirstily drank down the entire contents of the canteen. It was crisp, and clean, and purer than any water he had had in too long. Between his pants and gasps for air, and the surprising amount of water within the canteen, it took Evan several minutes to sate his thirst.

"Like!" The man called out as the tree trunk cracked and the large mass fell to the forest floor. The wood beyond the unsuspecting bark was a strange mauve colour, and a tickle arose in the back of Evan's mind.

"Violet Pine?" He asked, wiping the water from his mouth with his cloak.

"Aye? What else would it be?" The man chuckled before suddenly stopping. He lowered his axe and shot a strange look to even.

"That's an Eryan accent." He commented. Evan gave a short nod and a sheepish smile. "What's an Eryan lad doing all the way out here?"

"And by her, you mean Highland's west coast?"

"Aye." The man had a mix of a befuddled and humorous look on his face as though he could not make up his mind about whether Evan was a mystery or an idiot. It wouldn't take him long to discover he was both.

Highland, Evan realised, Challix's largest nation. He now had a firm grasp of where he was on the Prime Plane. The only issue, was that it was on the opposite side he had hoped for. 

"I could ask the same question of a dwarf-blood who can recognise an Eryan accent." Evan stood with a coy smile as the man began to blush. "Not many have such a fine beard, especially not this far from a major city." He gestured towards the thick beard the man was now stroking.

"Any issue with dwarf-bloods?" The man asked with a cocked eyebrow.

"Not one," responded Evan, downing the last of the water in the canteen, "least of all those who offer me a drink."

The man seemed to smile at the response and moved to take a pre-tied harness from his bag. Within minutes, the harness was tightly secured around the length of the trunk, and the other end he wore squarely across his chest.

Most mortals could not fathom carrying such a large trunk behind them, however, few mortals were humans with dwarf blood, and even fewer had what Evan now realised was a well-developed physique underneath the light clothing of the man. 

Evan carried the surprisingly light pile of firewood in his arms, flung the bundle onto his back, and stored the canteen within his satchel. The pace of the trek was slow. Even such a strong dwarf-blood couldn't muster an incredible pace as well as strength. However, it gave the two a welcome exchange that Evan had long fantasised about.

"You never did answer my question," the man huffed, "what's a' Eryan lad doing out here?"

"I'm not sure you'd believe me if I told you." Evan responded with a snort.

"Try me," insisted the man.

"If you insist," Evan exhaled as he processed the best way to communicate what he had experienced, "a magical Parthenon filled with monsters brought me here after I was stuck in the Second Ring for a decade." His explanation left much to be desired, even by his standard. It was not uncommon for him to imagine how he would explain his plight once he had returned home, this was far more disappointing than any version he had imagined.

The man had to stop for a moment, as he could not continue to pull the trunk within his state of uproarious laughter. He was bent over, laughing deeply and loudly that Evan was sure the local wildlife was retreating at the sound.

"Oh, lad," he managed through his tears of laughter, "you've worse luck tha' a glacier beast in the Realm." He patted Evan on the back before continuing his march, still trying to stifle his laughter.

"Wait," Evan was dumbfounded, "you believe me? Better yet, you understand me?"

"I've encountered weirder," the man explained, "though few who were unluckier. Let m' guess, Second Ring... Decade... the Battle Realm? What's it called again?"

"Venthrey," Evan answered, wide-eyed, "and yes. How did...?"

"That's the one," smiled the man, "Jasper loved the stories of the Second Ring, incorrigible habit, I told him to no en' it's nothing but trouble."

"I can't say I disagree," Evan had grown hesitant now, this man was far too understanding, "this Jasper, is he a Planescholar?"

"Oh, he would've loved that," the man seemed to be reminiscing as he spoke, his smile was wide, "he loved the idea of seeing other planes, being a great mage of the Planescholar's Society." The smile seemed to fade slightly, and Evan could recognise the forlorn eyes of the man as his walk slowed. "But no, he was just a man who liked to read."

Evan sensed that there was an appropriate response, some words of comfort which, unfortunately, eluded him in the moment. He opted, instead, for an understanding nod.

"And you?" The man asked, "Are you a Planescholar? Though, getting stuck in Venthrey isn't very Planesholar-y from what I've heard." He half-chuckled.

Evan grimaced slightly, "Not officially." He responded.

"I was travelling with them though." He added. It was not a time he enjoyed reminiscing on, in hindsight. In all the years in Venthrey, he had given little time to think about it.

"What a' experience." The man marvelled.

"Indeed." Evan absent-mindedly agreed.

The conversation quickly fell into a lull and the two mostly walked in silence. The curious man, it seemed, obliged in order to let Evan process and gain his bearings. Too many realisations and potentials swarmed in Evan's head. What do I do now? Do I go home? How do I talk to people? All of these were questions he now realised he should have asked himself before he entered the Parthenon. At the very least, he soon found an opportunity to put the questions to rest for the moment.

As the came to the edge of the raised terrain of the forest, Evan then got a glimpse of a proper, Prime Plane, settlement. It was quaint and small, no more than a couple dozen buildings or so, with less than a handful made of stone rather than wood. But it was, at the very least, familiar.

"Oh, right," the man realised, "I suppose I should welcome you, to Peatrus."

The name was entirely unfamiliar to Evan, unsurprising for a coastal town of another continent. However, another thought did occur to him.

"Thank you," he realised he owed gratitude to the man that had mostly gone unrecognised, "I'm Evan, by the way. Evan Calweather." He proffered his hand to the man who had taken to looking at the view of the settlement.

The man extended his hand in turn, clasping Evan's.

"Darian," he responded, "Darian Burke-Willis."