Samasira left the temple utterly bewildered. As she stepped outside, she felt the gaze of the imposing dwarven heads that were built into the mountain façade on her. The dwarves had shaped the Varren with their liking. Even after they left, their kings still watched over the Albweiss. The temple stood like a silent sentinel against the seasons, its ancient stone walls weathered by centuries of wind and snow, but overflowing with potent auras. Surrounding it, the rugged terrain of the mountain stretched into the distance, while far below, the world lay hidden in shadow beneath the grand mountain peaks.
Someone else was watching. Elyndar Sylvren had taken it upon himself to accompany Samasira to the temple entrance and stand guard while she sought the oracle. His presence was both reassuring and grounding, especially with all the confusion she felt right now. She was grateful for his protection and care, and she trusted the ker’s judgment, for the most part.
They exchanged a nod, then Samasira hurried off, Sylvren falling into step behind her. With freezing feet, fingers and breath, she crossed the lengthy path to the visitors’ tent, where she found two of her companions awaiting her return. All except for Abar and Kel-Khadar were asleep, their forms huddled together for warmth in a secluded corner of the tent, sheltered by a makeshift partition of cloth and fur blankets. The group had swelled to nine, after joining with three travellers on the way up. They had arrived not three hours ago, starved, battered, wounded, and desperate for rest.
Despite her own exhaustion, Samasira had insisted on seeking oracle from Faroah immediately. Sylven had followed her without hesitation, still streaked with dried blood from their last encounter with the Dorbin. The ker had not even taken the time to clean himself. Now, as they returned, he remained outside the tent, perched on the cliffside rocks, presumably beginning his furning — the ritualistic gathering of energy unique to his kind. The ker were a proud and powerful race, revered for their unique traditions and abilities. It was from their lineage that magic-wielders were born.
Samasira did not know him well, but she had developed a feeling for the shifts in his character. Sometimes he would speak to her, sharing thoughts or counsel. Other times, he would simply shadow her in silence, his presence a constant yet unobtrusive comfort. For the most part. If you got used to it. Eventually.
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