The Wandering Isles: Session 40
The halls of the Arcanum were quiet, but the weight of the group’s journey lingered in the air. They had returned victorious, yet their minds were already turning toward what lay ahead.
Hatsu stood before a Telestone, his voice steady as he recounted everything to his father—every trial, every lesson, every loss. His words carried across the vast distance, requesting aid for Dagtorp, ensuring that the rebuilding efforts continued. He knew the fight was far from over, and though their mission was complete, there were still those who needed help.
Amaedrianna, never one to let a mystery go unsolved, turned her focus to the strange plants growing atop Weslyn Theiwyse’s grave. Their rainbow hues shimmered in the morning light, unlike anything she had seen before. There was something unnatural about them, something that needed further study.
Elsewhere, Slate worked in quiet contemplation. He documented the sample he had taken from the creature they had encountered in Hartwell, intending to bring it to the scholars of the Arcanum. But as he awoke the next morning, his hands clutched something far more sinister—the book. The one that whispered, that guided, that pulled him toward something unseen. How it had ended up in his grasp again, he couldn’t say. But it was there, and it was waiting.
Eos, for the first time in a long while, simply rested. She allowed herself the comfort of warmth, of quiet, of solitude. A hot bath, a peaceful night, a moment of stillness. But as she descended the tower stairs the next morning, she was no longer alone.
A new face stood beside her. Eldrin Drosk.
The introductions were brief, for a meeting with Remington Maleficum awaited them. They gathered in the chamber, where Remington made an offer that would change everything—a Bastion. A place of their own. A foundation from which to grow stronger, to prepare for what was coming. Hatsu, always looking ahead, extended an invitation to his homeland, Saigo no Toshi, for the start of the new year cycle.
Eos remained behind after the meeting, speaking to Remington alone. She confided in him what she had learned—she was an Umbraven. He listened, then reminded her not to focus solely on what she was, but on who she was. And then, a revelation—he had met others like her before. A possibility she had not considered, a door she had not yet thought to open.
With new determination, she sought out Delphini Urging, pressing for answers about the dreams that had haunted her. Together, they peered beyond the veil, scrying upon the man from her visions. What she saw sent a chill through her—he was boarding a ship, the sands beneath him stretching toward the horizon, a fortress rising in the distance.
Meanwhile, Amaedrianna tested the strength of their new ally. She and Eldrin faced off in a sparring match, her blinding speed against his calculated precision. She pushed him, forced him to his limits, wings unfurling as she dove at him. But he met her, spell for spell, matching her pace until the fight came to a halt. Healed and unshaken, he yielded. She extended her hand. He was one of them now.
Later, they re-joined Dash and Lysa in their newly furnished room—a space unlike any other in the Arcanum, filled with hidden compartments, shifting illusions, and remnants of a dream just out of reach. There, the conversation turned to the Bastion, to where it should stand. The frozen wastes of Vulcanus? The rugged cliffs of Urbes? The golden sands of Palperroth or Rirtez? A fortress on an island, or something carved into the mountains themselves?
With their choices ahead and their footing in the Wandering Isles finally steady, one thing was certain—this was only the beginning.
