Landfall at Kael-Vora

The high skies over river Ran Fy’eir stretched pale and endless, a soft blue canvas streaked with idle clouds. The storm had not even touched these shores. The fog, the echoes of the Wailing Isles, even the memory of phantom ships faded like a fever dream, retreating alongside the last traces of adrenaline as the Erid Straits disappeared behind them.

After the oppressive, unnatural silence there was sound again. Real sound. Gulls wheeling overhead and the steady churn of waterwheels and windmills dotted along the gently sloping banks.

The Scarlet Sphynx skimmed lower toward the river’s surface, skating the wide, lazy current. Her golden sails shimmered faintly, light rippling in the shattersteel veins like water across a blade of grass. Okurac stood at the wheel, guiding her with sure hands. The rest of the crew held a kind of reverent hush, though whether it was awe, relief, or simple exhaustion, Elmira couldn’t say. Perhaps all of the above.

They had taken turns resting while they moved inland, snatching food, sleep, or private time where they could. Orwyn had emerged near midday, hollow-eyed but walking on his own. He stood brooding at the prow until Tam, being Tam, sauntered up behind him and handed him a chart with a grin.

“If you’re breathing, you’re working,” he’d said. “And I’m gettin’ some shut-eye.”

Just like that, the rhythm of ship life resumed. Not that Elmira had been on a great many ships in her life. It was one of the consequences of growing up in a floating city before becoming a realmwalker. Her means of transport had been via the Veil or the air or by beast when she felt like it. How folks like Tam and Okurac preferred it to land, she’d never understand. If she didn’t touch ground soon, she’d throw herself into the river and swim the rest of the way herself. But here, like this, coasting the river of fire, she could not help but admit it had its charms.

They passed all manner of vessels; weathered fishing skiffs, sleek ferries, imperial merchant barges laden with goods. Many bore the sigil of the Akati Empire, and every one gave the dark-stained brigantine a wide berth. A wave-skipper was a rare sight, and the Scarlet Sphynx, with her luminous sails and elegant lines, turned heads. Even rival captains paused to gawk. Many waved and smiled, gestures returned by the crew. It took Elmira a while to even realize that the tight knot of fear in her stomach was wrong. People could be friendly and nice and move on with their day. That was how life was on the continent of Oliria for the most part. It was nothing like Khorun and nothing like Sangora.

Each time she spotted the imperial sigil, Elmira’s heart lurched, and she could not help but smile. Her own rune was hidden in her pack. How she itched to wear them again, to step into her title like a cloak. But not yet. Not until she stood before the cliffs.

A familiar warmth pressed at the edge of her mind like the gentle curve of a wing brushing her thoughts. “You are quiet.”

“I feel... split,” she admitted silently. “Like I have spent too long playing roles I do not remember choosing.”

“You chose them. Even the hardest masks, you wore willingly. You endured, Elmira. And that endurance has a cost.” There was no reproach in Ayursha’s presence. Just quiet understanding. “Sangora taught you to mistrust gentleness. That does not mean gentleness is wrong.”

A gull cried overhead, streaking past the sun. Elmira straightened, brushing a lock of hair from her eyes.

“I thought I could carry everything. That it would not break me.”

“You are not broken, child.”

Tears threatened to come, but she held them back. “I broke a long time ago.” This time, it was she who broke their connection.

By the time the sun dipped toward the western edge of the sky, the mesa came into view. First a distant green smear on the horizon, then rising with every passing curve until it dominated the skyline. The cliffs of Kael-Vora rose high, streaked with moss and layered stone, the carved stairs glinting where they caught the light. Somewhere within them, behind thick stone lay the sacred tunnels of Hsi Ten. Each time she blinked, the cliffs seemed taller.

One hand on the wheel, and the other holding a half-full bottle of rum, Tam Winmore sailed his ship and its crew every inch the rakish captain that they lost in the Straits. Now he looked the part, hair washed and boots polished. Even the coat he wore a little too open had been mended. Once again the dashing smuggler stood before her, the kind that might duel you in the morning, drink with you by noon, and flirt with your sister by night. No. He had the look of someone ready to swagger into a city and steal its heart - or at least its valuables.

When Elmira raised a brow in wordless amusement, he answered with a lopsided grin.

“Wouldn’t do for the greatest buccaneer this side of the sea to limp into port lookin’ like a wet dog,” he said cheerfully. His eyes sparkled with mischief, but under the charm, she noticed the new lines etched around them, the shadows of sleepless nights and close calls. He wore them well, like all his risks.

She reached up, adjusting the strap of her bag over her shoulder. Her daggers were oiled and secured, her clothes as neat as travel would allow. But her hands wouldn’t stop sweating. For the fiftieth time, she wiped them on her tunic and tried to slow her breathing.

“You look about ready to keel,” Tam noted, holding the bottle out to her. “Thought you’d be happy.”

Gratefully she accepted the bottle and shugged a few mouthfuls before answering. “I am. It is just...”

She trailed off, searching for the words. “I wonder if I would be this nervous if the Portal had worked. If I had not come this way. If I had not met you.”

Tam arched a brow but didn’t interrupt.

“I was meant to portal to Dashia, retrieve my shuttle, and head through the Wards at Sambhala.” She passed the bottle back.

He took a thoughtful sip. “Sounds tidy. Boring. No Kraken, no phantoms, no thrilling near-death maneuvers. I’d give it a three out of ten.”

Elmira snorted despite herself. “Maybe. But it would have been easier.”

Tam leaned on the wheel, eyes still forward. “Yeah. But you’d have missed the good parts.”

Before she could reply, a sharp cry rang out from above.

“Port ahead!” Jessa bellowed from the crow’s nest.

“Easy now!” Orwyn shouted as the crew stirred. “All hands on deck!”

Elmira’s breath caught. Kael-Vora unfolded like a legend made stone before them. Its architecture both brutal and beautiful with carved towers that rose above layered, angular districts of sandstone and white marble. Despite its beauty, Elmira knew it was not a welcoming kind of place. It was not meant to be. It was a statement: you have arrived, and now you answer to us.

The first thing they saw as they turned into port was the waterfall. Rhendak’s Rise; a colossal, thundering curtain of water that cascaded from the cliffs far above, sending rainbow-laced mist spiraling into the sky. It sounded like the heartbeat of something older than nations.

Because it was.

Elmira’s eyes picked out small details. Sigils half-worn by time, banners of houses she knew as allies or rivals, the silhouette of the Shimbhala Temple, where the Orbs keep the Wards in check. The sacred ground she hadn’t stood on in years.

Towering sea walls guided the ship into a vast, multi-tiered docking ring built into the rising riverbank itself, an imperial marvel of stone, arcane channeling, and ancient craftsmanship. Gleaming pylons pulsed with quiet energy at intervals, keeping airships and watercraft alike from smashing against the stone. The sky shimmered from residual mist, tinged gold and silver in the evening light when both the sun and Luna clung to the sky.

The harbor teemed with life. Imperial cutters, merchant skyships, floating markets, and even beast-drawn barges from the inland rivers, all crowding for space. Arcane cranes loaded crates. Sailors shouted in a dozen languages. Hawkers cried. Bells rang. Monks in dark armor and robes observed it all from shadowed alcoves, silent as the dead. Eighty years ago Elmira would not have noticed them, but she had changed.

Mijinn would be proud.

“Stand by to make fast!” Okurac’s graveled bark rolled across the deck as he steered them into the assigned channel, hands steady on the helm, keeping an eye on the skiff guiding them. “Ease the mainsail! Bring her in slow!”

“Don’t scratch her now - we just flew through hell!” Rina shouted from the port side, already leaping to the rail with rope in hand.

Marlo thudded past, coiling chain like it was yarn. “Any dockmaster gives you rubbish, I’ll toss him in the drink, aye?” Orwyn just hung his head with a deep sigh before going about his tasks. But Elmira could have sworn she saw a smile fading as the stern mask fell into place.

“Gangplank ready? Jessa, don’t steal nothing ‘til we’re tied off!” Tam called, grinning.

“Wasn’t gonna!” came Jessa’s voice from somewhere up in the rigging.

Lint, clinging upside-down to a spar with soot still smudging her green cheeks, yelled, “Permission to kiss the stones when we land, Cap’n?!”

“Only if you kiss ‘em with your feet. That ain’t a handhold!” Tam shouted back, wind tossing his hair as he stepped toward the helm. His eyes flicked to Elmira once, unreadable.

Elmira stood a little straighter, one hand on her bag, the other on the pearl tucked into her sleeve on her karai’i. Her fingers itched, not from spellwork, but from the weight of everything this place meant. She took a slow breath.

The Sphynx slid in to her spot like a ribbon of flame and dark-stained oak, her solar silk sails glowing faintly as they caught the light bouncing off the waterfall. A hiss of arcane dampeners activated as they hovered just above the dock, then settled with a muted thud. The ship sank into the water and rocked back and forth.

“Hold for drift! Secure lines!”

“Furl the sails!”

And then… stillness.

The kind of stillness that comes after surviving too many things that should have killed you. Elmira looked up, toward the heights of Kael-Vora, and felt the city watching. She was home.

Nix came up from below, blinking in the evening light. “By the gods, I can smell the food stalls already,” he swore taking in a deep breath.

Jessa squinted at him. “You calling me a bad cook?”

“I’m calling the rations bad,” he said, holding up a finger to hush her. “You did what you could.”

The crew moved quickly, unloading personal belongings and what cargo remained. Ropes flew, laughter returned, and boots thudded across the deck with the same energy that had carried them through storms and worse. The gangplank dropped with a satisfying clang, echoing across the tiered docks. When they docked, there was no ceremony. Just a subtle recognition from the harbormaster, some paperwork and coin switching hands, the scurry of workers hauling the Sphynx to her final resting position, and a barely perceptible impressed nod at the sight of the hull.

“Alright,” Tam said, clapping his hands together and facing his crew as they assembled before him. “That’s the end of the run. Wasn’t easy, wasn’t clean, and sure as hell wasn’t quiet. But we made it.” He gave a small bow. “Deal was haul ass to Kael-Vora and arrive alive. You’ve earned your shore leave.  You’re free to go.”

Elmira watched them quietly, leaning against the mast for old time’s sake, pride and sorrow welling in equal measure. These were not her people, but they had become something close. Tam’s wild gamble, her desperate need to reach this place, had bonded them all through fire and fog.

Rina tossed her long braid over her shoulder and crossed her arms. “Thought we’d be dead three times over. Suppose I’ll call that a win.” Rina clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re not a terrible captain. You’re insane. But not terrible.”

“High praise from you,” Tam grinned, returning the gesture.

Marlo lingered near the gangplank, arms crossed over his broad chest, the weight of his warhammer slung casually over one shoulder. He watched the city, expression unreadable beneath the shadow of his horns.

“You staying?” Tam asked, trying to catch his eye. “Or just figuring out which tavern to hit first?”

“Both,” Marlo grunted. “Not many ships let me break things the way you do.”

Tam beamed. “Glad to have you.”

Marlo rolled his neck, the joints cracking like cannonfire. “Not stayin’ for the scenery,” he said. “But I’ll be damned if I miss whatever madness comes next. Got a taste for rippin’ things in half. This ship? She feeds it well.”

Rina smirked.  “You’ve got poetry in your soul, Bull,” she laughed, leaning back on her heels.

Marlo shrugged. “More like bloodlust in my bones.”

Tam’s grin widened. “Wouldn’t have you any other way.”

Marlo grunted in approval and moved to help coil ropes, already re-settling like a boulder that had never considered being moved. He towered over her where she stood, shadow falling across her like a passing stormcloud. For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then:

“You’re a strange one,” he said, voice low and thick. “But I trust you. Not ‘cause of the magic or the fire-talk. ‘Cause you didn’t flinch.”

Elmira met his gaze, surprised. “At what?”

“At me.” He nodded once, a slow, respectful dip of the head. “You ever need something wrecked, call me. I’ll come swingin’.”

And with that, he lumbered off, passing Nix coming the other way. Halfway past, the elf reached into his patched coat and drew out a single bronze cog, intricately carved. He turned and handed it up to Marlo, who had noticed him only because of the glint of metal. The minotaur looked down at it, confused.

“What’s this for?”

Nix just shrugged. A smile, faint but real, touched his lips. The elf didn’t say a word but he paused at the top of the gangway for a long moment, turning his head slightly, as if memorizing the shape of the Scarlet Sphynx’s before giving Tam and Orwyn a nod of thanks. Without a single announcement, he descended and vanished into the crowd. No goodbye, no fanfare. Just one more sailor in the city.

Tam gave a low chuckle. “Well, I’ll be damned. So long, strange one.”

“To be honest,” Orwyn said. “I don’t even know what he did most of the time.”

Jessa twirled a blade between her fingers and cast a quick look at the skyline. “I’ll hang back a day or two, maybe poke around the market. But if I vanish, don’t come lookin’. Means I found something shinier.”

“Fair enough,” Tam said. “You disappear, we’ll toast in your honor.”

She flashed him a grin, one fang just peeking past her lip. “Make it a good bottle. And tell Marlo not to burn the ship down while I’m gone.”

Elmira opened her mouth to speak, but Jessa caught her eye and gave her a wink; one that said thank you without saying a word. Elmira mouthed the words back and with a flick of her tail and a dancer’s step, Jessa Quickfingers turned and slipped into the crowd, already vanishing between vendors and spice carts like she’d never been there at all.

“Alright, ya soggy twits!” Lint shouted over her shoulder, leaping to the top of the gangplank like a war general, arms loaded with clinking bottles, fizzing vials, and one suspiciously large satchel that sparked at the seams. “I’m takin’ me leave before someone tells me I can’t detonate a barrel of gunpowder for academic purposes. Again.”

Rina groaned. “No one said you couldn’t, Lint. We said shouldn’t.”

“Semantics!” Lint squawked. “Also, I left a surprise in the powder room. For morale.”

Tam straightened immediately. “Lint -”

“Not that kind of surprise,” she muttered, insulted. Then, proudly; “A cake! It got buttercream and everything.”

Elmira leaned over to Tam, her voice a whisper. “You’re all gonna die.”

At the bottom of the gangplank, Lint turned one last time and gave the ship a look almost bordering on affection. “Not as flammable as I’d hoped, but sturdy where it counts.”

Tam called after her, “You leaving us for good, then?”

Lint stopped, looked back with a squint of mischief. “Nah. Just a holiday. Got a cousin in Kael-Vora owes me a test range and three barrels of starfire. I’ll be back when I run out of relatives or explosives - whichever comes first.”

And then she was gone, cackling into the crowd, trailed by the faint scent of smoke and vanilla.

“I’m gonna give her a headstart and then it’s my turn,” Rina said with a shake of her head, chuckling with the rest of them.

“Wise,” Orwyn muttered.

Rina adjusted the strap on her quiver, her gaze fixed on the cliffside city rising before them. Now, as the last of the crew made their decisions, she approached Elmira.

“Never did get that rematch,” Rina said, a faint smirk tugging at one corner of her mouth.

Elmira returned the smile. “I think we both know how that would go.”

Rina nodded, accepting the answer. She hesitated for a breath, then added, “You fought well. Not just with blades. You kept us alive.”

“That was the job.”

“Maybe. But most people don’t survive that kind of job.” Rina paused, then extended a hand, calloused and steady. “If you ever need a bow at your back again, you know where to find me.”

Elmira took her hand, squeezing it firmly. “I’ll remember.”

Without another word, Rina turned and made her way to the gangplank, stopping only to clasp Tam’s forearm. Elmira watched her go, realizing she’d miss the sharpshooter.

The gangplank thudded softly against the dock as the crew members began peeling off one by one, laughter and silent goodbyes mingling with the sounds of a bustling Kael-Vora evening. She should get off too, but it was hard to find the impulse to get moving. What was the harm in lingering a little longer?

Then Orwyn stepped forward, his eyes clearer than they’d been since the Wailing Isles, but rimmed with shadows that hadn’t quite left. “I think… I’m staying.”

Tam blinked and turned. “Staying in Kael-Vora?”

Orwyn shook his head slowly. “On the Sphynx. If you’ll have me.” He looked past Tam, out over the horizon beyond. “I don’t think I’ve reached the end of this thread. And something tells me whatever’s out there… it still remembers.”

For a moment, Tam didn’t respond. The tension behind his easy grin flickering into view for just half a beat. Then he nodded once, firm. “Of course, you’re staying. This ship is big enough for cranky minotaurs and haunted first mates. Long as you don’t go vanishing into the fog again without warning”

Orwyn huffed a laugh. “No promises.”

“Eh, we’ll work on that,” Tam said, turning toward the wheel where Okurac had been overseeing the final anchor rites. The half-orc raised a brow and gave a single shrug.

“This ship belongs in the sky,” Okurac said, reverent and low. “And I belong where she goes.”

Tam barked a laugh, throwing his arms wide. “Gods above! It’s a miracle! I kept half of my crew!”

“You’re insufferable when you’re pleased with yourself,” Orwyn muttered, rolling his eyes.

“Only when I deserve it,” Tam shot back with a wink.

Elmira watched the exchange with a small smile, a tangle of warmth and melancholy tightening in her chest. Tam approached with a swagger that wasn’t quite as carefree as usual. He’d tucked his hands into his coat pockets, steps thudding lightly on the deck as he came to stand beside her. For a moment, neither spoke.

“So,” he said finally, glancing sideways. “You’re leaving.”

“I am,” Elmira replied softly. “Time I stopped circling the gates and stepped through.”

Tam gave a curt nod, then reached into his coat and pulled something out. It was a small, black-pearled pendant on a chain. Simple, but old and worn.

“A token,” he said by way of explanation, handing it over. “Old smuggler’s charm. But this one? It’s special. You ever need me, really need me, you squeeze it. I’ll find a way.”

Elmira stared at the pearl for a long moment, then looked up at him, not hiding her amusement. “You’re giving me a charm?”

Tam grinned. “Turnabout’s fair play, love.”

Wordlessly, she reached over and pressed what she’d been fiddling with into his palm. Another pearl. Her own, pearlescent and etched with fine runes. “If ever you need me. A calling pearl.”

He turned it over, thoughtful. “Should have seen that coming,” he laughed, holding it up to the light. He pocketed it and patted the fabric to make sure it was still there.

They stood in silence a moment longer, then Elmira shifted the weight of her bag, ready to disembark when Tam suddenly called out:

“First mate, you’re in charge till I get back. If Kael-Vora asks what we were smuggling, we say ‘pride and trauma.’”

“You got it, cap’n,” Orwyn said with a mock salute before turning it toward Elmira. He let his hands fall. “Offer still stands.”

She grinned and gave him a nod. “Thank you. I will consider it.”

“Please do.”

Tam fell into step beside her as she descended the gangplank and began the walk through the bustling port. They moved through sun-drenched streets, past hawkers and children playing, through the spice-sweet air of Kael-Vora’s lower district, until the noise began to fall behind them.

Ahead, the cliff face rose up like the edge of the world, green moss and lichen clinging to ancient stone. At the waterfall’s base, half-shrouded in ivy and time, waited the carved gate to Hsi Ten. She could read the old carvings above the archway: The River Remembers All Who Return.

He whistled low, tilting his head, eyes on the white spray.

“I’m guessing this is where you vanish,” he said. “I thought it’d have more flair.”

She laughed. “It does. It is not guarded by steel, does not mean the guards are not real.”

The captain was not a native of her lands and did not know how this worked. How the Wards worked. The entrance to Hsi Ten looked modest and open, but one step too far without authorization, and you’d be thrown clear of the little garden in front of it. And you’d be marked with a scar that could not be healed. It was an ancient curse.

“It is time,” Ayursha whispered, her voice warm and kind.

Elmira reached into her bag and pulled out her sigil and joined it with her karai’i. It had been with her through every step of this journey, sleeping. Now, it stirred awake, and the sigil hummed in response, a familiar pulse of power. The air around them shifted. To his credit, Tam did not interrupt or move.

Elmira whispered the words, her voice, steady though her heart raced, rose with the rush of water, speaking the sacred words that belonged to those who carried the weight of the past and the future: the realmwalkers, the guardians of the realm, Ayursha’s tribe.

“In the name of Ayursha,” she finished. “Ey soti Ines.”

As the final syllable left her lips of her station’s credo, the earth trembled, and a soft hum reverberated through the air. The waterfall stilled for a moment as if acknowledging her presence.

Elmira's pulse thrummed against the karai'i. There was no turning back now, but she could not bear to glance back at the green-haired smuggler who had brought her this far.

Tam took a step up beside her, his boots crunching lightly on the gravel. He glanced sideways. “So,” he said, quieter now. “This is it, huh?”

She nodded but didn’t take another step. The air was wet with waterfall spray and something weightier, harder to name.

“I could ask,” he went on, voice rougher now, more careful. “Who you really are. You’ve danced close enough to it. That accent of yours, it’s akatian. Heard it now, should’ve earlier but… got distracted.”

Elmira turned toward him, and for the first time in days, there was no mask behind her eyes. Just a bone-deep weariness, a shimmer of sorrow, and the weight of the thousand years she’d been alive.

“Would you believe me,” she said, “if I told you I am the Elder of Agartha? Voice of Ayursha? That I was born in a different millennia in a different realm, far from here and before the Shadow Wars? Or that I am simply Elmira Delid, the realmwalker representative on the Council of the Empire? But for the past eighty years, I have been known as El, the Maze Hunter.”

Tam blinked. Just once. Then a lopsided grin tugged at his lips. “Honestly? After the Kraken, the ghost ship, the Wailing Isles, and Jessa’s cooking? Aye. You could tell me you were a moon goddess come down to steal mortal fire and I’d ask what you were doing slumming it with the likes of me.”

That earned a real laugh from her, soft and sharp and fleeting as wind through leaves. “Then that’s your payment,” she said.

He raised a brow, puzzled.

“The story. Of Liana. Just as I promised.”

The inhale was so sharp he actually coughed. “You knew her.”

“I knew her better than most,” she grinned and launched into three tales of the girl many believed had caused the Sundering that brought about the Modern Age. There, at the foot of Rhendak’s Rise, standing under the arch of Hsi Ten,  where the roar of the waterfall dimmed the world, Elmira spun the tale of the reckless Guardian of Fate. Of Liana Silverleaf, the girl who had defied prophecy, gods, and the end of the world just to change the shape of one life. A quiet tale, of the guardian who had stood alone at the edge of a crumbling world, who faced betrayal with grace and chose, in the end, to pass her legacy to another rather than burn it all down. A tale of hope. Of ruin. Of resilience. Her voice didn’t rise or fall with theatrics, it carried something gentler.

And Tam listened, still and quiet like it was the first time he’d ever heard a story worth holding on to. When it was done, Elmira reached into her satchel and pressed a heavy coin purse into his hands.

“I won’t need it anymore,” she said, simply. “It is light, but it is yours.”

Tam didn’t argue. He turned the purse over once, then tucked it into his coat. His smile, when it came, was softer than usual, and slower to surface.

“Take care of yourself, El. Or whatever name you’re wearing next.”

“I will try,” she said, then paused. “And you - watch the skies.”

“Always do. I’ll see ya in the eye of the storm.” He took a step back. “You should get going.”

She nodded. “Goodbye, Tam.”

“Not goodbye. Just until the next tide.”

She stepped forward and placed a hand over Tam’s heart, just for a moment, fingers light, but steady.

"The river remembers all,” she said, voice low with something like a promise.

Then, without waiting for a reply, she turned. Her coat caught the breeze, a ripple of deep red and dark brown as it lifted.  She walked toward the carved stone archway, each step drawing her closer to the shimmering ward.

Tam watched her until she reached the threshold. There, Elmira paused. She glanced back over her shoulder, a flicker of a smile touched her lips, eyes meeting his across the distance.

Then she stepped forward and was gone.